Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lan Jingyi is eight years old, and he’s in trouble.

This isn’t a new thing: he’s often in trouble for breaking some rule or other. It’s not even his fault most of the time. He can’t help it if he gets so lost in his own head, thinking about something Shifu said about the improper use of talismans or whatever, that he can’t answer a question when he’s called on. It’s so unfair, because he was thinking about something that Shifu thought was important a little while ago, right? He just hadn’t moved on, that’s all. Then he has to copy the sect rules for it.

At least his writing is getting better.

Other times it’s because he can’t keep his body still, no matter how hard he tries. He feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin, and everyone looks at him with a mixture of disgust and pity when he says that. Why can’t he just try, they ask. It’s like he doesn’t even care about developing his golden core properly, they say, shaking their heads. His parents would be so ashamed, were they alive. Jingyi hangs his head at that one. They probably would be. He tries so hard, and he would do better if he could, but it’s like he’s never good enough.

He doesn’t actually know what he did this time. He’s kneeling on the porch outside of Shifu’s meeting room, has been for twenty minutes now. The wood is hard beneath his knees, and he’s trying to stay still, but it’s more difficult than usual. At least no one is here to see his occasional wiggle.

A beetle crawls slowly across the wood, not far away. Jingyi watches it, wonders what its tiny feet would feel like crawling over his palm. He could probably lean over to pick it up without making any noise. He looks around: no one’s watching, so he does. The beetle is green and shiny, and its little feet tickle his skin. Its antennae wiggle, checking out this new surface it’s walking on. Jingyi wonders what the beetle is thinking, what’s happening in its tiny brain as it explores the palm of his hand. Bugs are cool, so weird and tiny, and so ugly they’re sort of cute. He forgets where he is for a moment, lost in his observations. A loud sound, like someone dropping something heavy inside the room, startles him out of his thoughts. He cups the beetle carefully in his hand and tries to listen.

The voices inside the room are both quiet and stern, in that way the elder Lans always argue. Shifu is speaking now, saying things Jingyi has heard more and more frequently of late, like “not able to control himself” and “cultivation isn’t a path for everyone.”

Jingyi’s stomach twists. He is trying, he really is. He tries so hard it’s exhausting. He wants to be a cultivator. He doesn’t know what else he could be. He has nowhere else to go, not since Popo died two years ago. He has no family left.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on the words drifting out through the closed door.

“We must remember that he’s a child,” Zewu-jun says softly. “He may be learning more slowly than the others, but he’ll get there. He just needs time.”

There’s a scoffing sound, probably from Shifu.

Jingyi knows he’s slow. He’s slower than everyone in almost every way. But he’s not stupid, despite what the others say. When they’re learning sword forms, he picks them up quicker than anyone. And he digs in more deeply than the others when he’s really fascinated by a topic, learns it so well that no one can come close to him. They’ve usually moved on, though, and no one cares that he spent days working it all out.

“Would you permit me to work with him?” another voice asks, one it takes Jingyi a moment to recognize: Hanguang-jun.

“Wangji—“

“I’ve observed him. He may be struggling to control himself in some areas, but he shows great promise in others.”

The conversation goes quieter then, made of harsh whispers that Jingyi can only catch snatches of.

“—you—just because—“

“—too much like—“

“—clouding your judgment—“

Finally the voices grow quiet again. The door opens. Jingyi doesn’t dare look up, not even when a pair of white boots stop right in front of him.

“Lan Jingyi.”

He looks up to see Hanguang-jun watching him with his usual unreadable expression. Jingyi says nothing, just waits.

“When you’ve completed your punishment, come to the Jingshi.”

“Yes, Hanguang-jun.” Jingyi bows as properly as he can in this position, then watches as Hanguang-jun walks away.

Wow, the Jingshi? No one ever gets invited to the Jingshi, not that Jingyi’s ever heard of, anyway. He doesn’t know whether to be scared or excited.

“Lan Jingyi.” Shifu’s voice sounds even more tired than usual.

Jingyi stands, dusts off his knees, and goes in to receive his punishment.

+++

Where are we going?, Jingyi does not ask. He wants to, desperately, but he knows better than to pester Hanguang-jun with questions. He keeps his mouth closed and follows, trying very hard to keep his mind open and aware, as Hanguang-jun has taught him.

His classmates all gaped in astonishment when Hanguang-jun interrupted their morning lesson and said he needed to borrow Jingyi for the day. They’ve all noticed Hanguang-jun paying more attention to him lately, have whispered about the fact that Jingyi takes tea in the Jingshi at least once a week and often stays after lessons to work with Hanguang-jun one-on-one.

Jingyi knows they’re all jealous and that he should ignore their stares and whispers. They know better than to bully him about it, but it’s almost worse that they all keep their distance. He didn’t exactly have friends before, but now he’s even more alone.

Still, he’s grateful for Hanguang-jun’s attention and help. He’s doing better in his classes lately, and he doesn’t get in trouble nearly as often. Even Shifu seems impressed.

“Have you flown by sword before?” Hanguang-jun asks when they reach the road at the base of the mountain.

Jingyi shakes his head. He’s seen the older disciples practicing, but he hasn’t had the opportunity to try. The thought alone is thrilling.

Hanguang-jun unsheathes Bichen, and Jingyi can’t help gasping. He’s never seen this sword up this close before. It gleams like it’s made of light. Hanguang-jun mounts it in a smooth movement, then holds a hand out to Jingyi. Jingyi takes it and jumps, lets Hanguang-jun catch him and position him against his body.

They’re really going to fly! He wishes his jealous classmates could see this.

“Hold on tight,” Hanguang-jun says, and the sword carries them up, up, up.

It’s exhilarating, even better than Jingyi has ever imagined. He can’t help grinning as he looks out over the landscape. They’re so high off the ground and moving so fast, but Jingyi isn’t scared. How could he be, with Hanguang-jun’s big hand on his shoulder?

They fly for a long time, long enough that Jingyi starts to get sleepy. He still doesn’t know where they’re going or why. Hanguang-jun hadn’t said a word about that, had said nothing but a perfunctory “come with me” outside the classroom door.

At long last they fly lower, down toward a road leading into a bustling village. Hanguang-jun lifts Jingyi with one arm and leaps gracefully to the ground. Bichen is resheathed before Jingyi even gets his bearings.

“We’re going to meet a friend of mine.” Hanguang-jun pauses a moment, then turns to look at Jingyi. “He’s a cultivator, though not affiliated with any sect.”

Jingyi nods, tamps down on the gasp that threatens to slip out. A rogue cultivator! Jingyi’s never met a rogue cultivator before. He’s heard plenty of stories, has even read a few of the books that the older disciples passed down to the younger ones, but the idea of meeting one in person—Jingyi can hardly believe his luck.

Hanguang-jun starts walking down the road and Jingyi follows, his mind spinning with questions.

Hanguang-jun spends more time away from Cloud Recesses than he does on the mountain. The other young disciples whisper the rumors about where he goes and what he does. Sometimes the reports of his night hunts reach their ears. Jingyi’s pretty sure the details are greatly exaggerated by the time he hears them, but they’re exciting all the same. He’s been afraid to ask in these last couple of months when he’s had some of Hanguang-jun’s attention, so this glimpse into Hanguang-Jun’s adventurous life is an opportunity Jingyi is not going to waste.

He’s practically vibrating with excitement when they stop in front of an inn on the edge of town. Hanguang-jun turns to look expectantly at him. Jingyi immediately calms himself, straightens his posture, and holds himself as much like a proper Lan disciple as he can.

Hanguang-jun nods approvingly, a small smile teasing at the corners of his lips. Jingyi feels himself flush with pride.

The inn’s tavern is quiet and rustic, with less than a dozen rough-hewn tables scattered around the space. Only a few of them are occupied at this early hour. Hanguang-jun heads toward the far corner.

As they approach, a man seated at the table stands to greet them. This must be the rogue cultivator, Jingyi thinks, looking him over. He certainly looks like one: he’s dressed in black robes with touches of red, his flowing hair tied back in a perfunctory way, rather than in the elaborate styles Jingyi is used to seeing on his elders. The man’s smile is radiant, his eyes warm and friendly—and locked on Hanguang-jun.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, and Jingyi’s eyes widen before he can stop himself. He’s never heard anyone address Hanguang-jun so intimately. Not even Zewu-jun calls him that.

Jingyi looks up to see Hanguang-jun’s face open up into the closest approximation of a smile Jingyi has ever seen. He’s so stunned by it that it’s a moment before he realizes the rogue cultivator isn’t here alone.

Standing just behind him is a boy about Jingyi’s age. He’s dressed in simple robes of brown and red with his hair pulled back into a high ponytail. His eyes are wide at the sight of Jingyi, like he doesn’t see other children very often. Jingyi can’t help staring back at him. Hanguang-jun hadn’t said anything about a boy.

“Hanguang-jun,” the boy says, looking away from Jingyi. He steps forward and—to Jingyi’s astonishment—wraps his arms around Hanguang-jun’s waist and buries his face against his stomach. Even more unexpected is that Hanguang-jun hugs him back.

Jingyi can’t remember being hugged like that by anyone other than his grandmother, and he’d only seen her a couple of times a year. Hardly anyone has touched him in an affectionate way since she died—it’s just not done. The idea of Hanguang-jun hugging anyone, especially a child, would have been completely preposterous to Jingyi just a few minutes ago.

The boy looks up at Hanguang-jun, smiling warmly. Hanguang-jun cups a hand against his cheek and looks back at him so fondly that Jingyi feels a sharp pang of jealousy. He’s become used to the idea of being Hanguang-jun’s favorite in the last couple of months, and the idea that maybe he isn’t, that maybe this boy means more to him—it’s a little hard to accept.

“And who is this?” The rogue cultivator asks, turning his smile to Jingyi.

Hanguang-jun turns to look at Jingyi too, eyebrows raised slightly.

Jingyi bows as properly as he can. “Qianbei, this one is called Lan Jingyi.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jingyi.” The man gestures to the boy still wrapped around Hanguang-jun. “This is my son. You can call him A-Yuan.”

Jingyi nods and bows to A-Yuan, who looks flustered for a moment before stepping away from Hanguang-jun and bowing back. The two of them stare at each other.

A rogue cultivator’s son! Who knows Hanguang-jun! Jingyi’s mind is racing with questions he has no idea if he’ll get a chance to ask.

“Baba—“ A-Yuan says, turning to look at his father.

“Yes, of course,” the man says, reaching out to pat his cheek. “Don’t go too far, and check in every now and then. Hanguang-jun and I have much to discuss.”

A-Yuan smiles, then turns an expectant face to Hanguang-jun. Hanguang-jun slips a hand into his qiankun bag, then gives each of them money. Jingyi stares up at him in astonishment. He gets a small allowance like all the disciples do, but no one has ever just handed him money like this—not that he can recall.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. You spoil him!” The rogue cultivator sighs and gives his son a stern look. “Don’t spend it all on sweets.”

“I won’t,” A-Yuan says, beaming at him. He turns to Jingyi and holds out a hand. “C’mon!”

Jingyi stares at his hand blankly. A-Yuan frowns at him, then takes Jingyi’s hand and pulls him across the room and out the door. The rogue cultivator’s laugh spills out behind them like water.

Jingyi squints in the bright sunlight. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere we want,” A-Yuan replies. He’s still holding Jingyi’s hand. “This way.” He tugs Jingyi down the main road, to where Jingyi can see vendors setting up their stalls for the day.

They stop first at a vendor selling roasted peanuts. A-Yuan buys a portion and offers some to Jingyi.

“It’s Jingyi, right?”

Jingyi nods, chewing his peanuts. They taste a little different than the ones in Caiyi, but they’re good.

“Are you from Cloud Recesses? You dress like Hanguang-jun.” He’s looking at Jingyi’s forehead ribbon. Jingyi nods. A-Yuan hesitates for a moment, then asks, “Is Hanguang-jun your father?”

Jingyi huffs a laugh. “No! Hanguang-jun isn’t anyone’s father!”

A-Yuan’s face does something strange at that, almost like he wants to argue.

“I’ve lived in Cloud Recesses for as long as I can remember. Hanguang-jun definitely doesn’t have a wife or kids or anything. I’d know about it if he did.”

A-Yuan looks away, down the street to where there are more vendors plying their wares. “Do your parents live there too?”

“My parents are dead.” Jingyi reaches for more peanuts. “They died in the war when I was a baby. Killed by the Wens.”

“Oh,” A-Yuan says. He looks down into the peanut bag, his expression serious. “My parents died in the war too.”

Jingyi blinks at him. “But your father—”

“My first parents died,” A-Yuan says. “I don’t remember them at all. But then I got new parents.”

“You got new parents?” Jingyi’s mind is momentarily blown. He didn’t know that was possible. “Wow, you’re so lucky!”

A-Yuan brightens at that. “Yeah, I guess I am. Are you studying to be a cultivator with Hanguang-jun?”

Jingyi stands up a little straighter then. “Yes. I mean, I mostly study with the other disciples. But Hanguang-jun helps me a lot.”

“He’s helped me too. He and Baba are teaching me.”

“What sect do you study with?”

A-Yuan opens his mouth and closes it again. “I don’t belong to a sect. It’s just Baba, mostly.”

Jingyi shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense. You have to belong to a sect to be a cultivator. It’s the only way to learn it all.”

A-Yuan’s face falls and Jingyi’s insides freeze. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he really hadn’t. He shoots off at the mouth sometimes and says things that hurt others’ feelings. He doesn’t mean to; he can’t help it. Everyone always says his mouth is quicker than his brain, and they laugh at him.

But now A-Yuan looks sad, and it’s Jingyi’s fault.

“I mean,” Jingyi says, reaching for his arm, “that’s how most people do it. But your father is a rogue cultivator, so he must know how to teach you. And if Hanguang-jun teaches you too, you’re so lucky. I’m the only one at Cloud Recesses that he teaches, and everyone is so jealous of me. They’d be jealous of you too.”

A-Yuan’s expression clears a little. “Sometimes I go to study at the Jiang sect, but just for a few days here and there. I don’t like to be gone from home so much.”

“Oh!” Jingyi’s definitely heard of the Jiang sect before. Last summer some cultivation students came from there to Cloud Recesses. They were older and Jingyi didn’t get to talk to them, but he remembers watching them practice sword forms. “You’re lucky to have so many teachers.”

A-Yuan smiles, his head a little higher now. “Hanguang-jun asked me if I wanted to come to Cloud Recesses last year, but I didn’t want to.”

Jingyi gasps. “Oh, I wish you would come! We could study together and play together and be best friends!” He winces immediately at that—why would he say something so stupid? A-Yuan probably wouldn’t want to be his friend. No one does, really.

“We could be best friends anyway,” A-Yuan says, smiling a little shyly now. “There aren’t any kids my age at—where I live. There are a few babies, but it’s just me otherwise.”

Jingyi doesn’t know what that would be like. He’s lived with a group of kids as long as he can remember. “Don’t you get lonely?”

“No, not really. I’ve got Baba, and so many aunts and uncles. There’s always someone who’ll take time to play with me, if I ask. Sometimes I play with kids in town, when someone takes me shopping there.”

“But you don’t have any friends?”

A-Yuan shrugs. “I guess not. Not really.”

“Me either,” Jingyi says, breathlessly. “The other kids don’t like me.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a lot. That’s what they say.”

A-Yuan takes his hand again. “I’ll be your friend.”

Jingyi feels a twinge in his chest, something that’s almost like excitement, but more, better. “I’ll be your friend too.”

“Want some sweets?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon!” A-Yuan pulls him by the hand farther down the road.

They check in with the adults a few times, are made to sit and eat lunch at one point, but spend most of the day wandering around the town and talking. Jingyi can’t remember the last time he had this much fun. Fun isn’t really something he gets to have often, in any form. He doesn’t want this day to end.

It does end, though. The sun is low in the sky when they return to find A-Yuan’s father and Hanguang-jun waiting for them outside the inn. Jingyi and A-Yuan look at each other, matching forlorn expressions on their faces.

“I know,” the rogue cultivator says with a soft smile. He ruffles A-Yuan’s hair affectionately. “Come over here and we’ll say our goodbyes.”

They walk around to the side of the inn, into an alley. The rogue cultivator takes Hanguang-jun’s hand, then pulls a talisman from his sleeve with the other. He whirls it overhead with a flourish.

Jingyi and A-Yuan both turn away, looking out to the street.

“I don’t want to go home,” Jingyi says, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot.

“Me either.” A-Yuan sighs. “Maybe Hanguang-jun will bring you next time he visits?”

“How often does he visit?”

“We see him about once a month. Sometimes he comes to the—to where we live, and sometimes we meet him somewhere. He and Baba night hunt together a lot, so those times I don’t get to come along.”

Jingyi files this information away for future reference. “If I’m extra good, maybe he’ll bring me again. In the meantime, we could write to each other?”

“Yes,” A-Yuan says, brightening. “I’ll write you as soon as we get home.”

They stare at each other for a moment. The alley is quiet now, as if they’re all alone. Jingyi doesn’t know where the adults went. A-Yuan looks at him for a long moment, then pulls Jingyi into a tight hug.

Jingyi goes completely still for several seconds before sliding his arms around A-Yuan to return it. He feels small in Jingyi’s arms, smaller than he looks, but he’s so warm and solid. He squeezes Jingyi tightly and tucks his chin over Jingyi’s shoulder. Jingyi doesn’t want to let go, ever. He wants to remember what this feels like.

There’s a soft sound behind them, and a chuckle.

“It’s time,” Hanguang-jun says, suddenly standing right at Jingyi’s shoulder.

Jingyi nods and reluctantly pulls away. A-Yuan hugs Hanguang-jun tightly then, pressing his face into his robes.

“Thank you for bringing Jingyi,” he says softly. “Can he come visit again? Please?”

“Please?” Jingyi repeats, stepping forward to stand next to A-Yuan. They both look up at him with big eyes.

Hanguang-jun looks momentarily stunned.

“How could we say no to these faces?” the rogue cultivator says, grinning. “Lan Zhan, you’re much too easy.”

Hanguang-jun turns to him, his expression fond. “We’ll see.”

A-Yuan hugs Jingyi one more time, then steps back to stand next to his father. His father is smiling at Hanguang-jun in a way that makes Jingyi think he doesn’t want the day to end either. Hanguang-jun nods once at him, then turns away. Jingyi waves at A-Yuan before he follows.

They’re both quiet as they walk down the road, heading toward the forest at the edge of town. Jingyi looks up at Hanguang-jun’s face. He looks lost in thought, maybe even a little sad.

As long as Jingyi has known Hanguang-jun, he’s been alone. Until today, Jingyi would have said he doesn’t have any friends, that he prefers his own company. Now Jingyi knows that’s not completely true. The rogue cultivator—whose name Jingyi realizes he doesn’t even know—is clearly Hanguang-jun’s best friend. It must be hard not to get to see each other very often. It must make Hanguang-jun feel so sad.

Jingyi reaches up and slides his hand into Hanguang-Jun’s. Hanguang-jun looks surprised for a moment, then squeezes Jingyi’s fingers. He doesn’t let go until they’re past the edge of town and ready to fly.

+++

Chapter Text

Jingyi is ten years old, and he’s frankly a little shocked.

“Baba, we won’t get in the way,” A-Yuan says, barely able to contain his excitement.

His father shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous. Hanguang-jun and I will go and you two will stay here.”

“You said next time I could come. You said—”

“A-Yuan.”

A-Yuan stops speaking at the sharp look on his father’s face. He ducks his head and clenches his fists against his thighs under the table.

Jingyi stares at him in open astonishment. Children in the Lan sect never argue with their elders. It’s unthinkable. Once an adult has made a decision, it’s never questioned. Jingyi glances at Hanguang-jun to see if he’s as shocked by A-Yuan’s defiance as Jingyi is. Hanguang-jun looks thoughtful, though.

“Neither of you has a weapon, which would only make you a liability in this situation,” he says. “Despite your confidence in your abilities, you both have much to learn. The time will come when you will accompany us, but not today.”

“Yes, Hanguang-jun,” Jingyi says, anxious to demonstrate his obedience.

A-Yuan still looks like he wants to argue, but he nods. “Yes, Hanguang-jun.”

A-Yuan’s father’s expression is one of amusement. “My little radish, growing up so fast. Be patient. I’ve no doubt you’ll slaughter your share of monsters before your first shave.”

“Baba,” A-Yuan groans.

Jingyi stifles a giggle.

“Lan Zhan, it looks as if our afternoon discussion has turned into something more. I suppose we should inquire about rooms for the night?”

A-Yuan gasps at that. “We’re staying overnight?” He nudges Jingyi under the table.

“Mn,” Hanguang-jun says in reply. “I’ll speak with the innkeeper.” He stands and heads across the room.

Jingyi turns to A-Yuan. “I’ve never stayed in an inn before.”

“We’ll have so much fun!” A-Yuan says. “We can stay up all night.”

“Aiya, children. We’re not likely to be gone that long.”

“That’s what you said last time,” A-Yuan retorts, “and you were gone for three days.”

“The entire village threw a banquet in our honor. We couldn’t just leave. Besides, this is a minor disturbance, nothing Hanguang-jun and I can’t dispatch quickly.”

For a moment, Jingyi thinks A-Yuan will argue with him again about them coming along, but he doesn’t. He gives his father a shrewd look. “Jingyi and I will stay in a room together, right? Because you and Hanguang-jun—”

“Yes, you will,” his father says, cutting him off with a flash of mild annoyance. “A-Yuan, not so loud. The entire tavern doesn’t need to know our business.”

“Sorry, Baba.” A-Yuan looks genuinely contrite this time. “We’ll be good, I promise. You won’t even have to check in on us when you return.”

“Hmmm.” His father looks skeptical. “Who taught you to look so innocent when you say such things?”

A-Yuan smiles sweetly. “You did.”

“Wei Ying.” Hanguang-jun is standing by the table again. He tilts his head toward the stairway at the back of the tavern, leading to the rooms on the second floor.

Jingyi is amazed by all of it. A sleepover with his best friend! In their letters to each other, A-Yuan had wished repeatedly that Jingyi could come and visit him at his home, describing all the fun things they could do together. Until now, their handful of visits have been for just an afternoon, but now, a whole night! Jingyi can’t imagine he’ll want to sleep at all.

Their room is small, but adequate. There’s one bed that will fit them both and a small table. The innkeeper pats them on the head and says he will bring up some games for them to play. He assures the adults that he’ll keep an eye on them.

A-Yuan’s father talks them both through the rules of staying here alone. They aren’t to leave the room until the adults return. They aren’t to cause any disturbances. They should be quiet and respectful. The innkeeper will bring them dinner in a few hours, but they are to open the door for no one else. They both nod and repeat it all back until he’s satisfied. A-Yuan is especially quiet and attentive during all of it, as filial and obedient as Jingyi has ever seen him behave. Jingyi isn’t sure he completely believes the act. A-Yuan’s father doesn’t seem to either.

“Take care of each other,” he says, looking at Jingyi while he says it. “You’re both responsible for each other’s safety until we return.”

“Yes, Wei qianbei,” Jingyi says, and bows to him.

A-Yuan’s father looks over at Hanguang-jun with raised eyebrows. “You Lans. Such formality.”

Jingyi’s face heats, but when he looks up, Hanguang-jun’s expression is one of approval.

They haven’t been gone ten minutes before A-Yuan begins scheming.

“As long as we’re back before dinner, no one will know we’ve even gone,” he says, pacing the floor.

“No,” Jingyi says, shaking his head. “We aren’t supposed to leave.”

A-Yuan stops pacing and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.”

“This is the first time they’ve left us alone. We have to show them we can be trusted. If we break the rules and get caught—”

“We won’t get caught!”

“If we get caught, we won’t get to do this again. Hanguang-jun may never let me come with him again. And we definitely won’t get to go along on a night hunt anytime soon.”

“You’re just scared.”

“Yes, I am! I don’t want to get in trouble.” Jingyi’s genuinely terrified that A-Yuan won’t listen, that it will all be a horrible mess, and that everything he’s worked so hard for in the last two years will be taken away. Worst of all, that Hanguang-jun will be disappointed in him. Jingyi doesn’t have anyone else in his corner. He has everything to lose. “Let’s just do what we were told, A-Yuan, please.”

A-Yuan frowns. “I guess getting in trouble is a much bigger deal for you than it is for me. It would be awful if we couldn’t see each other anymore.”

“Yes, it would.” Jingyi looks at him with pleading eyes. He’ll get on his knees if he has to. If that doesn’t work, he’ll tackle A-Yuan to the floor and sit on him until the adults get back. He’s gotten very good at martial arts in the last year. He’s pretty sure he could do it.

“Fine,” A-Yuan says with a dramatic sigh. “At least we’ll be together, right?”

“Yes!” Jingyi bounces in place, relief turning into adrenaline. “We’ll have so much fun! I’ve never had a real sleepover before.”

“Don’t you live in a dormitory?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“I’ve had a sleepover. My cousin came to visit last spring and he stayed with me.”

“Didn’t you sneak out and get in trouble?” Jingyi asks, remembering the letter A-Yuan had written about it.

“Ohhh, now I get it. Baba doesn’t trust me, but he trusts you.” A-Yuan slumps onto the bed. “That’s why they left us here alone, because they knew you would be the responsible one.”

Jingyi doubts he means it as a compliment, but Jingyi’s going to take it as one anyway. “If my shifu heard that, he’d probably fall over dead of a heart attack. He certainly doesn’t think I’m responsible.”

A-Yuan grins. “I’ve heard stories about your shifu. He didn’t like Baba much either.”

Jingyi gasps. “Your father studied in Cloud Recesses?”

A-Yuan’s face goes blank for a moment, something Jingyi has learned means he’s worried he said too much. As close as he and A-Yuan are, there are many things Jingyi doesn’t know about him and his life. Jingyi’s not offended by it—he knows it’s complicated.

After their very first visit, Hanguang-jun had stopped Jingyi just outside the gates of Cloud Recesses and told him he should not talk to the other disciples about where they’d been and who they’d seen. I’m not asking you to lie, he’d said, but to simply say nothing, to protect our friends. Jingyi hadn’t questioned it at the time. He’d deflected the curious comments and inquiries of his classmates by saying it was sect business he couldn’t speak about. (He’d enjoyed that part quite a lot, to be perfectly honest.)

Jingyi knows that A-Yuan has grown up with a great deal of secrecy. He figures there must be a good reason for it.

“He probably came one summer,” Jingyi says in an attempt to let him off the hook. “Cultivators come from so many sects to study with Shifu.”

A-Yuan nods. “I think so, yeah. Can you imagine how much trouble Baba could have gotten into there?”

“Is that when he met Hanguang-jun?“

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Your father must’ve made him crazy.” Jingyi says with a grin. “It’s kind of amazing that they’re friends.”

A-Yuan gets a funny look on his face for a moment, but then it’s gone, replaced by a sly smile. “I guess it is. So what do you want to do first?”

+++

“Hey,” a soft voice says.

Jingyi opens his eyes. A-Yuan’s father is leaning over the bed, smiling down at the two of them. He strokes a hand over A-Yuan’s head.

“Baba,” A-Yuan says, half-asleep.

“I thought you were going to stay up all night.” He chuckles. “I just wanted to let you know we’re back. Everything is fine.”

“Where’s Hanguang-jun?” Jingyi asks, pushing himself to sitting.

“He’s in the other room. No, don’t get up. It’s very late.” A-Yuan’s father tucks the blanket around them both. “You can sleep in tomorrow. No need to wake up at mao shi.”

Jingyi huffs at that. “M’not sure I can help it.”

“You can go out in the morning if you want. Just don’t go far. If you need something from us, knock on the door of our room and wait for us to open it.”

“I know,” A-Yuan says. “And no bothering you unless someone is bleeding a lot.”

“Good boy.” He stands. “Go back to sleep.”

Jingyi drifts, almost falls asleep again before A-Yuan pokes at him.

“Jingyi.”

Jingyi groans and throws an arm across him. “Sleeeeep.”

“I can’t.”

“Try.” Jingyi snuggles him aggressively, and throws a leg over him for good measure.

“This is like sleeping with an octopus.” A-Yuan wiggles, but doesn’t seem to be trying to dislodge Jingyi.

“What’s an octopus?” Jingyi asks through a yawn.

“How do you not know what an octopus is?”

Jingyi puts a hand over his mouth. “Please be quiet.” A-Yuan licks his hand, and Jingyi snorts. “Joke’s on you. I’m really hard to gross out.”

A-Yuan pushes his hand away with a groan. “Fine. I’ll try to sleep.”

“Thank you.” Jingyi tucks his head into A-Yuan’s shoulder and yawns. A-Yuan relaxes against him. It’s warm and cozy, and Jingyi tries really hard to memorize this feeling. He hasn’t slept curled up with another person like this since he was small, and he’d forgotten how much he likes it.

There’s sunlight streaming in the next time he opens his eyes. It’s later than he usually wakes, but still early in the morning. Next to him, A-Yuan is still asleep.

“A-Yuan,” he says, jostling him a little. A-Yuan doesn’t respond. Jingyi shakes him again, harder this time. “A-Yuan, wake up.”

A-Yuan groans. “I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“It’s morning now. Time to get up.”

A-Yuan rolls over onto his stomach. “No.”

Jingyi sighs. “We can go exploring, remember? They said we could in the morning.”

There’s a pause. “Okay, fine. Just give me a chance to wake up.”

Ten minutes later, they’re downstairs eating breakfast. The innkeeper had caught them on the way out the door and insisted they eat first. He also seems to want them to let their grownups know where they’re going.

A-Yuan shakes his head emphatically. “I’ll get in so much trouble if I bother them now.” The innkeeper shrugs and walks away.

Jingyi frowns. “Are you sure Hanguang-jun isn’t up already?”

“Baba always makes him sleep in.”

“How does he do that?” Jingyi wakes up at mao shi every morning, even when it’s dark out. Everyone at Cloud Recesses does. How did A-Yuan’s father manage to convince Hanguang-jun to stay in bed so long?

“I don’t know. They got back late, right? Maybe they were extra tired.” He drains the cup of tea in front of him. “Ready?”

They explore and spend the rest of the money they’d been given the day before on sweets, then head back to the inn to find their grownups sitting at a table in the tavern. They both look well-rested and they’re sitting very close together. Jingyi’s not sure he’s ever seen that particular expression of contentment on Hanguang-jun’s face.

A-Yuan hops over to them and drapes himself across Hanguang-jun’s back. His father laughs, surprised, and fusses at him, but Hanguang-jun reaches up and pats A-Yuan’s head.

Jingyi stands back, once again floored by the casual display of affection. It’s like Hanguang-jun is a different person when he’s with them. Even if Jingyi were allowed to tell the others about what they did on these trips, he doubts anyone would believe him.

A-Yuan’s father looks up and smiles. “Jingyi, get over here.” He gestures for Jingyi to sit next to him.

Jingyi allows himself to be pulled into their orbit, though it still feels weird. It’s almost like the three of them are a family—a real one, not the ones he’s known in his cloistered life in Cloud Recesses. He’s jealous, but also happy that he’s the one who gets to see this.

A-Yuan releases Hanguang-jun and sits properly at the table. He looks back and forth between his father and Hanguang-jun, and smiles.

+++

Chapter Text

Jingyi is twelve years old, and he’s nervous.

He sits across the table from Hanguang-jun, thinking very hard about how to answer the question he was just asked. Hanguang-jun’s expression is placid, unreadable. He sits and waits.

“What have I heard about the Yiling Patriarch?” Jingyi repeats, and takes a deep breath. “Well. He’s a powerful cultivator who uses resentful energy. He’s thought to be evil and dangerous. He was once a disciple of the Jiang sect. He was instrumental in the defeat of Wen Ruohan a decade ago. After the war, the remaining powerful sects tried to force him to hand over the Stygian Tiger Seal, supposedly the source of his power, and he fled to the Burial Mounds near Yiling, where he has isolated himself ever since. The Burial Mounds are guarded by powerful wards and fierce corpses, and no attackers have been able to penetrate the defenses.”

He pauses and looks up to see if he’s on the right track, but Hanguang-jun’s face is blank.

Jingyi looks down again and continues. “He invented many talismans and spiritual tools, even some of the ones we use here. He can supposedly raise armies of corpses to do his bidding. He has taken no disciples as far as anyone knows.” Jingyi pauses, thinking through the list. “Oh, and apparently his evil deeds twisted his once-handsome face into that of a monster, and he eats children who wander too close to his lair. There’s also something about drinking the blood of virgins, but I don’t really understand what that’s about.”

Hanguang-jun’s expression twists into something almost like amusement. “And how much of that do you believe to be true?”

“Some of it, I guess? Most of it’s rubbish, probably. People love to tell stories. The scarier, the better.” Jingyi shrugs. “And if I were the Yiling Patriarch, I’d encourage them.”

“Would you? Why?”

“Because that would make it easier to live a more normal life. If people expect him to look really scary, they won’t recognize him when he leaves the Burial Mounds. If they think he’s a recluse who protects himself with hordes of corpses and eats children, they’ll be too afraid to go near his home. Even a powerful sect would be likely to leave him alone. He could come and go as he pleases and no one would be the wiser.”

“An interesting theory.” Hanguang-jun takes a sip of tea. “So what do you believe?”

Jingyi presses his lips together. “I think the real Wei Wuxian is probably just a person who is trying to live his life. He has people he loves and wants to protect.” He does not look up at Hanguang-jun.

“Go on.”

Jingyi picks up his own tea and stares into the cup. “I think he treasures your friendship very much.”

Hanguang-jun’s lips are curved into a slight smile when Jingyi manages to look up again. “As I treasure his.”

Jingyi smiles and looks down again. He’d figured it out a long time ago, and it’s actually a relief to have it out in the open between them. “I haven’t told anyone. I don’t know if A-Yuan realizes I know.”

“Thank you for protecting them.”

“Hanguang-jun.” Jingyi hesitates. “You could have chosen anyone to share this secret with. Why me?” Jingyi is grateful to him, but he knows he’s hardly the best disciple the Lan sect has to offer.

“You remind me of him in some ways.” Hanguang-jun says. “Your mind works differently, and others didn’t understand that about you when you were younger.”

“They still don’t.” Not that Jingyi’s bitter about that.

“You were more alone, though. Wei Ying had a family and friends, and—” He hesitates.

“And I didn’t.”

Hanguang-jun had stepped in when Jingyi had most needed someone on his side, to believe he could succeed. Someone to help him navigate his strict Lan education and to advocate for him when he couldn’t do it for himself. He still struggles—he’s never going to be good at sitting and listening to a lecture for hours on end—but he excels in other areas, and he now knows that’s okay. He doesn’t have to be a model student to be a great cultivator.

“I hoped you and A-Yuan would be friends. He has also had a lonely childhood. You seemed a good match for each other.”

Jingyi smiles at that. “He’s my best friend.”

Hanguang-jun looks up at him. “Would you like to go visit him?”

“At the Burial Mounds?”

He nods. “It’s a long way from here, and we would be gone for nearly a month.”

“Yes! I want to go.” Jingyi tires to keep his composure, to push down the sudden a spike of excitement he feels. The Burial Mounds! A-Yuan has talked about his home in vague terms, and Jingyi had tried to imagine it, but he hadn’t expected he’d be able to go there anytime soon.

“I will speak to Shufu and assure him that your education will proceed as expected during the time we’re gone.”

“A-Yuan and I could train together. You and Wei-qianbei could teach us.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Hanguang-jun says with a wry smile.

Jingyi smiles back at him, his head held a bit higher than is proper, but he knows Hanguang-jun will forgive him this. “I know exactly what I’m wishing for.”

+++

A-Yuan meets them at the base of the Burial Mounds, along with his uncle Wen Ning—the legendary Ghost General himself! Jingyi is glad Hanguang-jun had prepared him for this particular meeting, otherwise Jingyi would have been terrified at the sight of him. They pass through the wards and head up a narrow path through the trees.

A-Yuan chatters happily at them as they walk, occasionally even walking backwards while gesturing towards something or other. Jingyi tries very hard not to gape as he looks around. He can feel the occasional swirl of resentful energy, enough to set his teeth on edge, but the higher they climb, the less common it is. The forest thins and they pass small gardens perched on the hillside. A few people are working amongst the plants, and they stop to watch the group pass by.

This was another surprise for Jingyi: until yesterday, he hadn’t heard the story of how Wei Wuxian had rescued innocent people from a Jin prison camp and fled here with them. He hadn’t known that those people were Wens, persecuted for their family name alone. He hadn’t known Hanguang-jun had been there too, or that Wen Yuan, a toddler at the time, had been saved that day.

Jingyi had been angry at that, so angry he’d had to excuse himself from their campfire and walk around, venting his emotions into the undergrowth around him. Who puts grandmothers and babies into prisoner of war camps and leaves them to die? Who slaughters and enslaves innocent people, then ensures the cultivation world makes a villain of their rescuer?

There is an awful lot of recent history he wasn’t taught, it turns out.

At the top of the path is a small village, lively with people. The buildings are worn and rough-shod in places, but everything seems well-maintained. A few small children run up and tug at A-Yuan’s hands. They’re dressed in rough fabric and they have dirt streaked on their faces and clothes. They look happy and well-fed, though, more so than children Jingyi has seen in many other places. They stare curiously at Jingyi and Hanguang-jun, and Jingyi suddenly feels very out of place in his pristine Lan sect robes.

At the edge of the village, an ornate facade is carved into a towering rocky cliff, which A-Yuan explains is the entrance to a large cave complex. As they approach, Wei Wuxian emerges from the cave, wiping his hands off on a cloth. He smiles widely at the sight of them. After proper greetings, Wei Wuxian directs A-Yuan to show Jingyi to the guest quarters.

“C’mon,” A-Yuan says, tugging on his sleeve. “Let’s get you settled in.”

The guest quarters turn out to be a tiny hut near the edge of the village, not far from the entrance of the cave. There are two beds—wooden platforms with straw mats, each with a woven blanket folded neatly at the foot—and not much space for anything else. Jingyi swallows down his surprise at the sparseness of the room: he’s lived with so much opulence in his life that it’s easy to forget how other people live.

“Is this where Hanguang-jun and I will sleep?”

“No, I’m staying in here with you,” A-Yuan says, sitting on one of the beds. “I usually sleep in the cave too, but when Hanguang-jun visits I stay out here.”

“Hanguang-jun is sleeping in your bed?”

A-Yuan laughs. “No, he’s sleeping with Baba.”

Jingyi blinks. “Then… no one’s sleeping in your bed?”

“Nope.” A-Yuan leans back on his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. I could barely sleep last night, I was so excited.”

“Me too. Except I’ve been like that for days.” Jingyi pulls his belongings from his qiankun pouch and sets everything out on the bed.

A-Yuan gasps. “Oh, wow! Show me your sword.”

Jingyi grins and hands it over to him. A-Yuan examines the ornate hilt, then pulls it out of the scabbard and holds it up in front of him. He whistles appreciatively.

“Gorgeous. Did you fly here, then?”

“Some of the way. I’m not very good at it yet, though.” It takes so much spiritual energy to fly, and Jingyi gets exhausted quickly. “What about yours?”

A-Yuan had it at his side when they’d met at the base of the Burial Mounds, and Jingyi has been dying to get a closer look ever since.

It’s not as fancy as Jingyi’s—much more practical in design, but the weight of it in his hand feels more substantial than it looks. The characters for its name are engraved near the top of the blade: Zhengnian. Jingyi knows that Hanguang-jun offered to give A-Yuan a sword from the Lan Sect’s swordsmith in Caiyi, but that Wei Wuxian had refused the offer, saying he had already commissioned a sword from a maker in Yunmeng.

“It really suits you,” Jingyi says, looking up at him. He sits up very straight and holds the sword out to him with a formal salute. “Wei Sizhui.”

A-Yuan ducks his head. “It sounds weird when you call me that.”

“Does everyone here call you Wen Yuan, then?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s my family, you know? But Baba wants me to be careful outside. Wen is still not a name people think highly of.”

“Is Wei that much better?” Oof. Jingyi wishes he could take the words back as soon as he says them, but A-Yuan just shrugs.

“Weirdly, it is? Hanguang-jun told me I could call myself Lan if I wanted. But I thought that would just make people ask more questions.” He draws a finger over his forehead where a ribbon would be.

“So it’s Wen Yuan and Wei Sizhui.” Jingyi tilts his head. “Non-traditional. I like it.”

“Non-traditional is kind of the motto around here.” A-Yuan smiles. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

A-Yuan takes him all around the village, introducing him to everyone. He meets Popo and so many uncles, and he gets introduced to the handful of small children he’d seen earlier. They’re all orphans, it turns out, rescued from the streets of Yiling.

“I help teach them,” A-Yuan says as he lifts a small boy of no more than three to his hip. “Right, A-Xin?”

The child stares at Jingyi with wide eyes. A-Yuan taps him on the nose and sets him down again.

“The older ones are learning some basic martial arts. I’ve tried to get them meditating, but it’s been slow going. You can help, if you want.”

“I’d love to.” Jingyi’s spent some time working with the youngest disciples in the Cloud Recesses in the last year, and surprised everyone by being good at it.

A-Yuan takes him around to the stream on the other side of the mountain, past the fields above the village, where a handful of wary-looking sheep are grazing, then back down to a very out-of-place lotus pond.

“They had to keep me out of it for the first couple of years. Apparently I wouldn’t stop pulling the plants up.”

Jingyi tries to imagine a tiny A-Yuan walking around in the muck, gleefully yanking up sprouts. He can’t, somehow.

They stop in front of the entrance of the Demon Subdue Cave. The door is closed, and A-Yuan makes no move to go near it.

“That’s where Baba and I sleep, and where Baba works on his inventions. Oh, and there’s a pool inside filled with blood.”

“Blood?” Jingyi gives him a horrified look.

“Baba says it was like that when he first came here, but I think he’s lying. I’ll show you later.” He leans in close and lowers his voice. “You don’t want to go in there right now.”

Jingyi looks at the closed door. “Is he doing something dangerous?”

“No.” A-Yuan gives him an odd look. “He and Hanguang-jun—I mean. They close the door when they want to be alone.”

“Alone,” Jingyi repeats.

“You know. Alone.”

Jingyi is missing something here. “What do you mean?”

A-Yuan stares back at him as if he’s trying to figure out if Jingyi is joking. “You really don’t know?”

Jingyi shakes his head.

“Huh. Okay.” A-Yuan looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is in hearing distance, then leans in close. “Do you know what sex is?”

“Yeah, but—” The words click into place in his head. Jingyi feels his entire face heat up. “Wait. Really?”

A-Yuan looks up at the door. “I mean, that’s probably what they’re doing. They always lock themselves away when Hanguang-jun first gets here. It’ll be a while.” He shrugs, then turns to Jingyi. “Hey, you want to see my hideout?”

A-Yuan’s hideout is down the mountain a ways, next to a spot where the stream widens and slows. There’s a thick knotted rope hanging from a high tree branch, and climbing up it reveals a crude platform built across a few sturdy branches of the tree. There’s enough room for both of them to sit comfortably, legs dangling over the side.

A-Yuan chatters at him about how one of his uncles helped him build it, how this is a great fishing spot, and that it’s a place he comes to when he wants to be alone.

Jingyi tries to listen, but his mind is still spinning. Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian are—together? Like that? So many pieces start to connect in his head, moments he now realizes he’d misinterpreted over the years. He’d just thought they were friends. Close friends.

Who gaze adoringly at each other and call each other by names no one else does. Who sleep in the same bed, and always close the door and put up silencing talismans.

Wow.

“Hello? Xiao Yi?” A-Yuan is waving a hand in front of Jingyi’s face.

“Sorry.” Jingyi flushes. “I’m just a little freaked out about your father and Hanguang-jun.”

“Freaked out how?” A-Yuan’s expression is suddenly stilted.

“No, not—I just can’t believe I didn’t know. I feel kind of stupid.”

“I mean, it is supposed to be a secret. Not just them, but also that we’re all here and that Baba isn’t actually a reclusive evil sorcerer with armies of corpses at his command.”

Jingyi nods. This much he knows already. “So how long have they been—uh.”

“Fucking?” A-Yuan says with a sly grin.

Jingyi gasps: he’s never heard A-Yuan speak like that. “Yeah, that.”

“They’ve been together for as long as I can remember. Since before me, maybe.”

Yet another connection forges in Jingyi’s mind. “Hanguang-jun—he’s your other parent, isn’t he?” A-Yuan always spoke of his parents as if there were two, but he’d never mentioned a mother. Jingyi had wondered if something had happened to her, but there’d never been a mother at all.

A-Yuan smiles softly. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always thought of him that way.”

“But you call him Hanguang-jun.”

“I can’t exactly go around calling him Die, can I?”

“And they—they’re—” Jingyi presses his hands over his burning face. “All those times when we stayed at inns overnight, they were—”

“Doing it, probably.”

“So how does that even work with two men?” Jingyi has been taught the basics of sex, how reproduction works. The parts don’t quite match up in his head.

A-Yuan turns an incredulous face to him. “You don’t know?”

Jingyi flushes all over again. “I know some things. But it’s not like they teach us that at Cloud Recesses. It’s all about how babies are made and you shouldn’t even think about it unless you’re properly married.” He frowns. “Wait, how do you know?”

A-Yuan’s ears tinge pink. “Ah. So… Baba has some books with, uh, pictures and stuff. I was snooping around once and found them.”

“He has books with—” Jingyi can’t even finish the sentence. He’s seen a book like that once, something the other disciples were giggling over, but it definitely didn’t have any pictures of two men doing… that. “And you looked at them?”

“Of course.” A-Yuan gives him an odd look, like he can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t want to look at something like that. “But he must’ve found out about it, because when I went to look for them again later, they were gone.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Jingyi stares out at the slowly flowing water, thoughts turning over and over in his head. He’s not sure he wants to know the details, but he figures this is his best chance to ask. “So… how does it work, exactly?”

A-Yuan hesitates. “Okay, so—do you know about how people use their hands and mouths for sex?”

Jingyi grimaces, thinking of one particular image from the book he’d seen. Hands he can understand, but mouths—there?—that part he does not get at all.

“It works the same if they’re both men, or both women.”

“So it’s different from how a man and a woman do it to make a baby, then?”

“Oh, they do that too.”

Jingyi opens his mouth and closes it again. “How? Neither of them has a—”

“They stick it in each other’s ass,” A-Yuan says.

Jingyi turns to gape at him. “That’s—you’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“It’s true! Why would I make up something like that?”

“Probably because you’re a pervert!”

“Shut up!” A-Yuan swats at his shoulder. “I saw it in the book. There was a picture of one guy on his back and the other shoving it right in his asshole.”

“That’s disgusting!” Jingyi winces—he can’t not think about it now. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

“Probably. But maybe it’s supposed to? It hurts sometimes for girls, doesn’t it?”

“Does it?” Jingyi pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them. “Why do people do it if it hurts?”

“I don’t know.” A-Yuan frowns.

“You don’t think—do they do it like that?”

A-Yuan’s nose wrinkles. “I try not to think about it.”

“Yeah, that’s—yeah.”

Jingyi is never having sex, ever. Just wow, no. He’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to look at Hanguang-jun or Wei Wuxian anytime soon without bursting into flames of embarrassment on the spot.

Hanguang-jun, though—Jingyi can’t reconcile any of this with his mental image of him. Ever since he first learned what grown-ups do together in private, he’s been certain that none of the esteemed Lan cultivators did that stuff. None of them were married, for one thing. He’d never heard of Zewu-jun or Shifu courting anyone. He’d thought maybe cultivators were above such base physical acts.

Shifu keeps to himself when he’s not teaching, and the only people Jingyi’s ever seen Zewu-jun spending time with are other sect leaders, like Nie Zongzhu and Sandu Shengshou and—

Nope. No. Jingyi firmly cuts off that line of thought.

A-Yuan turns to lean back against the trunk of the tree. “You said in your last letter that Hanguang-jun was going to take you on a night hunt.”

“Yeah,” Jingyi says, grateful for the change of subject. He launches into an only slightly embellished story of his very first night hunt a few weeks before. A-Yuan listens and asks questions, and is polite enough not to poke at the obvious holes in the story. “What about you?”

A-Yuan tells him about an entire family of ghosts in a nearby village that he’d helped Wei Wuxian subdue. He hops down to the ground with his sword in hand to demonstrate a particularly tricky move he’d seen his father use. Jingyi hops down too, and it soon turns into a friendly sparring session.

They’re well-matched, and it’s exhilarating to get to play like this. It’s always been like this with A-Yuan, though—Jingyi feels free with him in a way he rarely does at home.

He laughs and holds his sword out in front of him. “Maybe we can get them to take us on a night hunt together sometime.”

“I keep asking,” A-Yuan says, and advances on him again. His sword technique is a mix of different styles, some of it familiar to Jingyi and some of it not. It’s a challenge to defend against, and he loves it.

“Me too. I don’t want to be annoying about it, but—”

There’s suddenly a shiver of something against his skin. Jingyi freezes in place, and it’s a moment before he realizes that he’s engulfed in a strong wave of resentful energy. He whirls around, holding his sword out in front of him, but there’s nothing there.

“Shit,” A-Yuan hisses, and scrambles to his side. “Quick, give me your hand.”

Jingyi feels like he’s underwater. There’s pressure in his head now and everything’s going a little foggy. He tries to extend his hand, but the movement is liquid-slow. His ears are ringing.

A-Yuan nicks his own finger with the tip of his sword, then grabs Jingyi’s hand. Before Jingyi has processed what’s happening, he feels a sharp flash of pain. He looks down to see that A-Yuan has sliced into the palm of Jingyi’s hand with his sword.

“Ow!” he says, the pain bringing his mind back into focus. “What the hell?”

A-Yuan dips his own bloody finger against the cut on Jingyi’s hand, then draws a talisman in the air in front of them. The strokes glow red and hang there as if on an invisible canvas, then explode into a shower of sparks. Jingyi flinches, but A-Yuan holds him there with a hand clenched around his wrist. The sparks shower down onto Jingyi, tingling slightly where they touch his skin, then fade away. The resentful energy withdraws almost immediately.

Jingyi blinks, breathes. Sounds come back into his ears again, the gurgling of the stream and the wind sifting through the trees.

A-Yuan exhales slowly, as if he’d been holding his breath. “That should do it.”

Jingyi tugs his hand out of A-Yuan’s grip. “What the hell was that?”

A-Yuan is still looking around, eyes narrowed. “We’re close to the perimeter here. It’s guarded by some pretty nasty spirits Baba has collected over the years. I should’ve done a protection spell on you before we even came down.” He rubs at the back of his neck, sheepish. “Do me a favor and don’t mention that it almost got you? I’ll get in so much trouble.”

“Almost got me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have let it get far. It probably wouldn’t have hurt you. Much.” He winces at Jingyi’s shocked expression. “I’m sorry! But it’s all good now, right?”

Jingyi chooses to ignore that he was just attacked by something very nasty and instead focuses on the much more important fact that this is a kind of talisman he’s never even heard of before. “How did you learn how to do that?”

“Baba taught me. We have to protect everyone who comes to visit.” A-Yuan puffs up a bit. “That talisman was really powerful, by the way. You should be able to pass through the wards at the base of the mountain now, no problem.”

“Like a key? Wow.” Jingyi looks down as the cut on his palm. It’s still seeping blood, and stings when he flexes his fingers. It’s on his right hand too, which means it’s going to hurt to wield his sword for a few days. “Did you have to cut so deep?”

“Sorry, I think I got overexcited. Here.” A-Yuan takes Jingyi’s injured hand in his, and pulls it up to his face. He purses his lips and blows across the wound, gently. Jingyi gasps at the sensation: it’s tingly and soothing, and the cut closes up before his eyes. There’s still a fine line left on his skin after, but it’s otherwise healed. A-Yuan inspects his hand, then nods and releases him. “Better?”

Jingyi has had a lot of injuries attended to by sect healers over the years, but he’s never seen anything like this. He looks up at A-Yuan, astonished. “What else do you know how to do?”

A-Yuan looks strangely embarrassed. “Is it that weird?”

“No, not weird. Amazing.” Jingyi shakes his head. “I don’t know any healing magic.”

“I could try to teach you that one, if you want,” A-Yuan says. “It’s… not one of Baba’s.” He looks down at the silvery scar that remains on Jingyi’s palm.

It’s Wen magic, he doesn’t say. Jingyi hears it all the same, though, and feels a pang of regret for him.

They sit at the edge of the stream and talk for a long time, comparing their training and telling stories about the adventures they’ve had. At last the sun is beginning to dip low in the sky. It won’t be dark for a while yet, but it is getting late in the day.

“We should go back up before they come looking for us,” A-Yuan says. “Baba and Hanguang-jun are probably done by now.”

Jingyi groans. “Ugh, why did you remind me?”

“They’ll be in a good mood, at least.”

“Please stop.”

“Seriously, if you want to ask Hanguang-jun for anything, the best time to do it is right after they’ve—”

Jingyi puts his hand over A-Yuan’s mouth and glares at him. “Do not finish that sentence.”

A-Yuan’s eyes twinkle, and Jingyi pulls his hand away before he can lick it. A-Yuan grins. “I thought you didn’t think that was gross.”

“I’ve spent way too much time thinking about bodily fluids today, and I am not in the mood.”

A-Yuan laughs. “Wow, okay.”

Jingyi huffs and heads back up the path.

“Are you all right?” A-Yuan asks after they’ve walked in silence for several minutes.

“I will be. I just—that was a lot of new information.” He sighs. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

“Everyone here knows about them. I guess I thought you did too.”

“I really did not,” Jingyi says, shaking his head. “Damn.”

A-Yuan snickers. “Shit.”

“Fuck.”

They bump their shoulders together, grinning at each other.

“I can probably show you around the cave now, if you want.”

Jingyi grimaces. “Maybe tomorrow.” He really wants to think about something else for a while.

+++

Chapter Text

Jingyi is fourteen years old, and he’s focused.

He crouches behind a tree at the edge of the clearing where they’ve set a large net, and waits. On the far side of the clearing, Wei Wuxian plays his dizi, luring their quarry ever closer. He’s a sight to behold: smoke black as night swirls around him, tendrils licking up like flame, absorbing light so completely it’s almost like there’s a void in Jingyi’s field of vision. The music he plays is haunting, ethereal. The first time Jingyi heard it, it sent shivers through him, filled him with an anxiety he had to work to shake off.

Now he centers himself like Hanguang-jun taught him to do, and reaches out with a tendril of spiritual energy. Not far away, A-Yuan is waiting too, equally focused. Jingyi can sense his presence almost like a spark at the edge of his consciousness. Hanguang-jun is somewhere behind Wei Wuxian, ready to strike.

There’s a low rumbling, something Jingyi feels more than hears. He tilts his head, tries to locate the direction it’s coming from. He tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword as the rumble rolls through him again, closer now. He doesn’t move—he’s still not sure where it is—but its presence fills his senses. He can almost smell it: fear and dread and pain and death. He closes his eyes, inhales, exhales, centers his focus again.

It’s another minute before the source of the sound comes into view. It’s strangely difficult to perceive; light seems to bounce off it at multiple angles, making it appear amorphous and glittering as it moves. Jingyi can’t tell how it’s moving, whether on legs or on its belly or something else altogether. It heads ever closer to Wei Wuxian, who steps back slowly, drawing it right to where it needs to be.

For a moment, it looks as if the plan is going to go off without a hitch. The creature is slithering forward in Wei Wuxian’s thrall, almost in position when there’s a sharp cry from above. It’s an eagle by the sound of it, calling out a warning at the sight of the creature. It’s a small disturbance, but it’s enough to draw the creature’s attention for a moment, and that is enough to break the spell.

Wei Wuxian hisses in frustration and redoubles his efforts, but the creature advances on him now, moving past the trap point before it can be properly sprung. Plan B it is, then.

Everyone springs into action, leaping from their hiding places with their swords held high. Wei Wuxian is surrounded by a swirl of darkness now, his eyes glowing red in the dim light of the forest. Tendrils of black smoke reach toward the creature, making it hiss and snarl. It bites at them with sharp yellow teeth, long and jagged, its breath putrid.

Great, Jingyi thinks, trying once again to embed his sword into its hide. It’s still difficult to see exactly where it is, as if light is distorted all around it. His sword makes contact, but never exactly where he intends, so the momentum of his swing is off over and over. It’s really damn hard to kill something you can’t quite see.

In the corner of his vision, he sees Hanguang-jun hovering in the air above it all, Wangji before him. Jingyi retreats to a safe distance just as the first chord strikes. The creature yelps and stumbles at the first, and again at the second. When it sinks to its—knees, maybe?—Jingyi leaps forward again, slicing where he thinks the head might be. A-Yuan is mirroring him on the other side. It takes far too long, death by a hundred small cuts while they keep leaping aside to avoid gnashing teeth. Finally Hanguang-jun lands on the creature’s back and sinks Bichen into the base of its skull. Or, where a skull would be if it had one. Jingyi still isn’t sure.

The creature groans almost pitifully, then shudders. It slowly resolves into a beast they can see, now that it’s not bending resentful energy around its form. It appears almost like a large bear, but squatter and wider. Its dark scaly hide oozes unpleasantly, and the smell—Jingyi coughs once, then backs away.

“Wei Ying!” Hanguang-jun leaps off the creature and sprints out of Jingyi’s view.

When he rounds the carcass, he sees Wei Wuxian on the ground, seemingly lifeless in A-Yuan’s arms. Hanguang-jun’s face is pale, almost panicked, but A-Yuan is calm. He places his hands on Wei Wuxian’s abdomen and closes his eyes.

“Hanguang-jun?” Jingyi says softly, but Hanguang-jun’s gaze is locked on the pair of them. His hands clench and unclench, as if he’s uncertain what to do. Jingyi has never seen him this afraid before—the man is preternaturally calm under the most treacherous of conditions. This is hardly their dangerous first night hunt as a group, but then, Wei Wuxian has never collapsed before.

A-Yuan doesn’t seem to be feeding Wei Wuxian qi as Jingyi would have expected. Instead, he seems to be drawing something out: black smoke licks up out of Wei Wuxian’s body like flames, rising up and out, but not dissipating. The two of them look as if they’re being immolated by it.

Jingyi feels a frisson of fear at that—A-Yuan has a lot of skill as a healer for someone his age, but this looks to be far beyond his ability. Jingyi looks up at Hanguang-jun again. Surely they should help? Maybe not Jingyi, who has no idea how one might combat such a thing, but Hanguang-jun must know, right? Hanguang-jun seems frozen to the spot, though.

There’s a groaning sound behind them. Jingyi whirls, sword raised, but it’s just the corpse of the creature settling. An acrid scent follows that, and Jingyi winces: apparently its bowels have released. Definitely dead.

When he turns back, A-Yuan is glowing slightly. His face is twisted in concentration, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. His hair has come loose from the ponytail he typically wears and it blows back behind him now, making him look wild, mad.

Just as Jingyi is on the verge of grabbing Hanguang-jun’s arm and shaking some sense into him, something breaks. The smoke dissipates abruptly, vanishing into the air. A-Yuan exhales and removes his hands. He opens his eyes, then looks up at Hanguang-jun.

“That is why,” he says, his chin high, his expression defiant.

“A-Yuan—” Hanguang-jun begins, but Wei Wuxian gasps then and sits up straight, eyes open wide.

“Did it work?” he asks, panting. “Did we get it?”

“Yes,” A-Yuan says, squeezing his shoulders from behind. He looks drained, exhausted.

Wei Wuxian seems to realize he’s on the ground. He pats himself down, as if looking for injuries, then turns to look back at A-Yuan. “Did I—?”

“Yes.” A-Yuan says, his voice strained. “But you’re fine now.”

Hanguang-jun makes a small sound of frustration and crosses his arms over his chest. “Foolish,” he says. “Irresponsible.”

“But still alive,” Wei Wuxian replies, looking up at him with a wry smile.

“This time.” Hanguang-jun closes his eyes briefly, and seems to collect himself. “Jingyi, go alert the villagers that the creature is dead.”

Jingyi salutes him. “Yes, Hanguang-jun.” He turns and jogs away, and tries not to listen to the sounds of a quiet argument behind him.

There had been tension between Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun all day, ever since this plan was first made. Hanguang-jun is always wary of Wei Wuxian’s methods of cultivation, but in this case, he’d been adamant that the situation could easily get out of hand. He’d been right on that count—Wei Wuxian collapsing was something Jingyi hadn’t known could happen. And whatever it was A-Yuan had done, it was unlike any sort of healing cultivation Jingyi had seen before.

He thinks of the small night hunts he goes on with Hanguang-jun and the other Lan disciples. They’re more like textbook exercises in comparison: annoying ghosts, mischievous spirits, that sort of thing. Nothing as dangerous as this.

He’ll probably freak out about it later, but right now he’s still running on pure adrenaline.

He meets the villagers on the path in less than ten minutes—apparently they had not stayed by the road as instructed.

He pauses to greet them properly, then lets the village elders know the creature is dead.

“Take us there,” a man with a gray beard replies.

The group of men with him are carrying a variety of tools, each more ominous-looking than the last. Jingyi does not comment on that as he turns and leads them back toward the clearing.

Wei Wuxian is on his feet when they arrive, looking the most energetic of all of them. Hanguang-jun’s expression is stony, and A-Yuan looks exhausted. Jingyi goes to his side as Hanguang-jun steps forward to speak with the village elders.

“You all right?” he whispers.

A-Yuan nods, his smile tight and flat.

“We’ll talk about it later, then,” Jingyi says, and squeezes his elbow.

The villagers have already begun hacking up the large corpse as the four of them turn to leave. Hanguang-jun graciously declines their offer to stay for the ceremony.

“What ceremony?” Jingyi asks as they make their way out of the clearing.

“They’ll dismember the creature and burn the parts, then scatter the ashes.”

“It killed and ate so many of the villagers,” A-Yuan says. “Will this ceremony help their spirits rest?”

“It might,” Wei Wuxian says. “Time will tell.”

They’d camped the night before, but now Hanguang-jun insists on finding an inn for them to spend the night in. Jingyi is relieved: he needs a hot meal and a bed—he definitely doesn’t want to sleep in the woods after the day he’s had.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says with a purr, “you spoil us.”

“You need a proper rest,” Hanguang-jun replies, his tone icy.

Wei Wuxian loops an arm through Hanguang-jun’s and leers at him. “You’ll make sure I spend plenty of time on my back, won’t you?”

Hanguang-jun makes a sound as if he’s choking on thin air.

“Ba,” A-Yuan groans. He looks over at Jingyi with a pained expression.

Jingyi shakes his head in an attempt to commiserate, but he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth twist up. Under the circumstances, Wei Wuxian’s filthy sense of humor is impressive.

They’re quiet as they make their way back to the road. They walk for a long time, finally coming upon a bustling town at the edge of a picturesque lake. The afternoon sun is low in the sky, maybe a shi of daylight left. They walk until they find an inn at the center of town. Hanguang-jun goes in to speak with the innkeeper.

“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian says, stepping in close to him. He towers over A-Yuan this close, could probably still rest his chin on the top of A-Yuan’s head. “You did well today.”

A-Yuan’s face twists. “He’s right, you know. You put yourself in serious danger, and for what?”

Jingyi has heard A-Yuan challenge his father like this many times, but it still catches him by surprise.

Wei Wuxian huffs. “It could have killed us all. If I hadn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” A-Yuan says. “Do you know how close you came? I almost didn’t get you back this time.” His voice wavers on the last few words.

He starts to turn away, but Wei Wuxian pulls him into a hug. “You did, though. I’m fine, I promise.”

A-Yuan buries his face in Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “It was scary. You don’t understand.”

“I do, more than you know.” Wei Wuxian’s voice is suddenly taut. He presses his nose into A-Yuan’s hair. “Oh, my little radish. I won’t let it happen again.”

“That’s what you always say.” A-Yuan sniffles against his shoulder, then pushes him back. “Hanguang-jun is so angry. Please don’t fight with him, just say you’re sorry.”

“Sometimes fighting with him is fun, though.” Wei Wuxian’s lower lip sticks out in a slight pout. “Making up is even better.”

“Can you not?” A-Yuan groans. “Just this once, could you not be so completely shameless in front of me?”

“No, I really can’t.” Wei Wuxian reaches out and grabs him by the arm, pulls him in again. “You’ll understand one day.” He ruffles A-Yuan’s hair, and A-Yuan squawks indignantly.

“Stop! I only just got it tied the right way!” He shakes his head. “You’re so embarrassing. Why are you like this?”

“Embarrassing, me?” Wei Wuxian feigns shock. He turns to Jingyi. “Jingyi, am I embarrassing?”

Jingyi wants no part of this conversation. Refusing to answer a direct question from a senior would be punishable with handstands in Cloud Recesses, but the rules are different with Wei Wuxian.

He gestures toward the entrance to the inn, saying, “I’ll go see if Hanguang-jun needs assistance.” Wei Wuxian’s laughter trails behind him.

Hanguang-jun is speaking with the innkeeper, so Jingyi waits a polite distance away. Hanguang-jun looks tired, more so than Jingyi has seen him of late. He nods at the innkeeper, then turns to look at Jingyi. Jingyi steps forward and bows formally to him, more for the comfort of the gesture than actual propriety.

“The innkeeper is preparing rooms for us, but it will take some time.” Hanguang-jun opens the pouch in his hand and counts out some money. “You and A-Yuan should return by sundown. Wei Ying and I have some things to discuss.” The in private is heavily implied. He holds the money out, and Jingyi takes it with a nod.

He walks back into the sunlight to see Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan smiling at each other, which is a relief.

“Wei-qianbei,” he says with another small salute. He’s gonna be proper and polite no matter what today, because someone has to be. “Hanguang-jun is waiting for you inside.”

A-Yuan smirks and looks away.

Wei Wuxian grimaces. “Have fun, kids.” He pats Jingyi on the shoulder as he heads toward the entrance of the inn.

They both watch him disappear through the doorway. Jingyi turns to A-Yuan and shows him the money.

“We have to be back by sundown.”

A-Yuan raises his eyebrows. “That’s more money than usual.”

“I think it means stay away until sundown.” Jingyi tilts his head in the direction of the main market area, and A-Yuan nods.

A-Yuan is quiet as they walk, seemingly lost in thought. Jingyi wants to ask him about it, but he’s not sure where to start. A lot happened today.

“Hungry?” Jingyi asks, gesturing toward a stall selling a variety of stuffed buns.

A-Yuan’s attention has been caught by a vendor a few stalls down, though. “Money,” he says, and Jingyi hands over half of it. He then watches A-Yuan walk right up to a liquor vendor and buy a bottle.

Jingyi knows he’s gaping at him when he walks back over, bottle in hand. He’s never seen any of the Lan disciples his age do that. There’s no way any of them would dare buy alcohol in Caiyi. The gossip that would result—it’s unthinkable.

“Get some food if you want.” A-Yuan looks back at him defiantly, as if daring him to say something.

We’re a long way from Caiyi, Jingyi thinks. He straightens his shoulders, walks over to the bun vendor, and buys a few for each of them.

They walk in silence down toward the shore of the lake. Several small groups of people sit near the edge of the water, talking, eating, and drinking. By the pier, fishermen are preparing for the next day’s work, mending nets and repairing their boats. The sun is low in the sky, a few sticks of incense away from dipping behind the mountains in the distance.

They climb up onto some large rocks and look out over the view. A-Yuan uncorks the liquor bottle and takes a swig. Almost immediately, he makes a face and coughs.

Jingyi can’t stop himself from snickering. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s awful.” A-Yuan shakes his head. “The stuff Ba usually drinks is a lot better than this.” He takes another sip, winces, and hands the bottle to Jingyi.

Jingyi’s never had a drink of alcohol in his life. Not because he’s opposed to the idea—he’s seen people drinking in taverns in Caiyi, and he’s seen Wei Wuxian tipsy on many occasions. But living in Cloud Recesses means he’s never had the opportunity to try it. And an opportunity probably won’t come around again anytime soon, so. He lifts the jug to his lips.

Horrible is the first thought that crosses his mind. It’s sharp-tasting and it burns going down, making his throat seize up as he tries to swallow. It’s even worse than he’d expected, and honestly? He’s more than a little disappointed that it’s so unpleasant. How do people drink this all the time? He shudders and hands the bottle back to A-Yuan.

A-Yuan seems determined to gut it down, and does so at an alarming rate. Jingyi snags the bottle back from him a few times, but can only manage a few small sips.

He hands A-Yuan a stuffed bun. “You should probably eat before you drink much more of that.”

A-Yuan takes the bun and looks out over the water. “Are you going to ask? I know you want to.”

“I figured you’d talk when you were ready.” He gestures toward the bottle. “Or when you had enough of that, whichever happened first.”

A-Yuan chuckles. “Thanks for not judging me.”

“Judge you for what? I drank it too.”

“What would Hanguang-jun say?”

“He wouldn’t say anything. He’d just look at me like—” He does his best impression of Hanguang-jun’s stony-angry expression. “And then he’d think up an appropriate punishment.” He’d also be very disappointed in Jingyi, which is a sobering thought.

“Is everyone at Cloud Recesses really that strict?”

Jingyi frowns. “It’s orderly, disciplined. Quiet. There are a lot of rules, but they’re all for a reason.”

“Do you actually like it? Living with so many rules?”

“I don’t know what it’s like not to.“ He shrugs. “But… it’s comforting to know what’s expected of me, what my role is and what to expect from others. Maybe that wouldn’t work for everyone, but it helps me feel… like I belong, I guess?”

A-Yuan hesitates a moment before speaking again. “Hanguang-jun wants me to go, to spend a year studying there.”

Jingyi’s breath catches in his throat: his first, selfish impulse is to demand that A-Yuan agree, that he come as soon as possible. The idea of having his best friend by his side every day sounds like a dream. He looks up to see A-Yuan watching his face, and he smooths out his expression. “Do you think you will?”

“I can’t be gone from home for that long.” A-Yuan picks up the liquor bottle, traces his finger around the mouth of it. “You saw what happened today. Ba needs me. The village needs me. I have responsibilities.”

Jingyi presses his lips together. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“No, lie to me,” A-Yuan says, smirking. “Oh, wait—you’re not allowed.”

Jingyi snorts. “If you think I’ve never lied, you’re wrong.”

A-Yuan grins and takes another sip from the bottle. He’s not grimacing as much now.

“I think you’d have a hard time adjusting. You’ve lived a very different life than the rest of the Lan disciples. You’re used to having a lot of freedom, and the responsibility of taking care of your family, and it wouldn’t be like that.” Jingyi reaches over and pokes him in the side. “Not to mention that you’d have to learn not to talk back to your elders. Ever.”

A-Yuan rolls his eyes. “I don’t talk back. I just tell them what I think.”

“They’d beat you just the same.”

A-Yuan winces, but it soon shifts into a thoughtful expression. The late afternoon sunlight makes his face glow, highlighting his features. He’s beautiful like this: sitting by a scenic lake after an exciting night hunt, drinking liquor from a bottle, hair flowing out behind him. Everything about him is fascinating. It’s not like Jingyi hasn’t noticed it before, but something about him now, in this moment, takes Jingyi’s breath away.

“You would probably be unhappy there,” Jingyi says at last, still fixated on the shape of his profile in the light. “As much as I’d like to see you every day, I wouldn’t want that for you.”

A-Yuan turns to look at him, surprised. He’s framed by glowing light in his hair, looking almost ethereal. A slow smile spreads over his face. “You know,” he says, leaning back on his hands, “no one else has even mentioned that. My happiness.”

“They want what’s best for you,” Jingyi says. “Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun both have had difficult lives. Maybe being happy isn’t something they ever got to consider important.”

“Not many people do.” A-Yuan takes another drink. “Do you think we’re happy living in the Burial Mounds? Scraping out a living on a mountain made of corpses, constantly fighting off resentful energy? Always afraid that some powerful sect will come for us, kill us all off for the ‘good of the cultivation world’?”

Jingyi takes the bottle out of his hands and makes himself take a very long drink. It burns all the way down, and he thinks, good. He hands it back, struggling not to cough. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, I promise.”

“You’re not an asshole. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known.” A-Yuan finishes the bottle and frowns. “That went quick. Should we get another one?”

“Probably not,” Jingyi says. “How much money do we have left?”

A-Yuan counts it out. “Just enough. I’ll be right back.” He stands and heads back towards the cluster of vendors on the street.

Jingyi watches him as he goes, lets himself look as much as he wants. A-Yuan has grown since they saw each other last. Jingyi has too, is still a bit taller than him, but A-Yuan seems like he’s due for a growth spurt. His shoulders are broad in his worn robes, stretching the fabric in a way that is fascinating to look at. His features have sharpened, Jingyi had noticed in his earlier moments of watching him, his cheeks no longer round and baby-soft. There’s a shadow of stubble on his upper lip that wasn’t there a couple of days ago. Jingyi touches his own face, feels the scratch of stubble there. He wonders how different he looks to A-Yuan after three months apart. If A-Yuan even notices these things.

A-Yuan returns with a new, larger jug, and Jingyi silently vows to drink his share this time.

“So what happened today?” Jingyi asks a bit later, fueled by liquid courage. “With your father?”

“He overdoes it sometimes. He’s learned a lot about how to control the resentful energy, but—” He pauses, takes a drink, and hands the jug over. “It consumes him, if he lets too much of it in. He can’t purge it fast enough on his own. My aunt’s theory is that if he keeps doing it, it will eventually kill him.”

Jingyi hisses through his teeth at that. “Kill him?”

A-Yuan nods. “She worked on a technique to help him purge it, and then she taught me. It turned out I was especially good at it. And after she left, there was only me to do it.”

“And he won’t stop cultivating with resentful energy?”

“It’s the only real power he has.” He frowns then, pauses, shakes his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, Hanguang-jun has been arguing with him about it for years.”

The only real power he has. Jingyi doesn’t know what that means, but his brain is fuzzy enough now that he lets the thought go. He takes a long drink, then wipes a hand over the back of his mouth. “So as long as he keeps doing it, he needs you.”

“Exactly. What’s best for me, for my education—it doesn’t matter. I can’t go.” A-Yuan tilts his head up to the sky. The line of his throat is long.

“And Hanguang-jun doesn’t like that answer, huh?”

“Nope. If either of them ordered me to go, I still wouldn’t.”

“Really?” Jingyi props his chin in his hand. His posture is very un-Lan-like right now, but no one is watching. “Doesn’t it bother you, being so unfilial?”

A-Yuan snorts with laughter. “Unfilial to the Yiling Patriarch?”

“You know what I mean. He’s your father.”

“He raised me. He took care of me. I call him my father, but…” A-Yuan sighs and presses his hands over his face. It’s a moment before Jingyi processes the soft sounds he hears.

“Oh, hey.” Jingyi scoots closer and pats his shoulder. “S’okay. Don’t cry.”

“M’not crying.” A-Yuan sniffles, then drops his hands and leans against Jingyi’s shoulder. “You’re an orphan too. Why do you feel so much allegiance to the Lan sect?”

Jingyi gives him a puzzled look. “My parents were Lan disciples. You know that.”

“Yeah, and they died fighting for the Lan sect. So why are you so filial?”

“This is what they wanted for me. My grandmother said so.”

“Exactly,” A-Yuan says, as this proves his point.

Jingyi waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, Jingyi prompts, “And?”

“My parents weren’t cultivators, not like this.” He gestures between them. “They were healers, and they farmed. They lived a peaceful life, just helping others. And they were slaughtered.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. “Everyone I have left in the world lives in the Burial Mounds, and they need Wei Wuxian and his demonic cultivation to keep them safe. And I can help keep him safe, which is the least I owe him for saving us all and taking care of me.” He swallows, his voice a little wobbly on the last bit. “So that’s my filial duty.”

Jingyi knows he should look away, but he can’t help himself: A-Yuan’s eyes are watery, and Jingyi’s a sympathetic crier, so he gets watery too. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes.

“Are you seriously crying over my story?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because that was beautiful. Your parents would be so proud.” He turns his face into A-Yuan’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” A-Yuan says, and puts a hand over his eyes. “You’re making me cry now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jingyi says, only barely stifling a sob. “I just—I’ve barely done anything to make my parents proud.”

“Yes, you have. Don’t say that.” A-Yuan wraps an arm around him. They sit there sniffling together for several minutes.

“Why are we like this? Is this what happens when you drink too much?”

“In my family, yeah.” A-Yuan tips his head against Jingyi’s.

Jingyi sighs, looks out over the purple-orange sky. “S’almost dark. We’re supposed to be back.”

They both push themselves off the rock and onto their feet.

“Shit,” A-Yuan says, grabbing onto the side of the rock. “I think I’m drunk.”

Jingyi feels wobbly himself, and he didn’t drink as much as A-Yuan did. He takes a step forward and the world tilts. He leans heavily on A-Yuan’s shoulder, nearly knocking them both over. They steady themselves and look at each other, eyes wide.

“We’re fucked,” A-Yuan says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “They’re gonna be so mad.”

Jingyi groans. He can’t imagine facing Hanguang-jun like this. He’s going to be copying sect rules for a solid month. No, more likely is that he’ll get a solid beating for this. He winces just thinking of it.

“Let’s walk around,” A-Yuan says. “It might help.”

Late-and-tipsy is better than now-and-shitfaced. Probably. Jingyi’s in no hurry to face Hanguang-jun’s wrath.

They walk back up the hill towards the main street, leaning heavily on each other. It doesn’t seem to get better; in fact, it gets worse.

“M’so tired,” Jingyi says. “Can we sit down? Just for a minute?”

“Yeah,” A-Yuan says, then straightens up again almost immediately. “No! We’re already so late. They’re gonna worry, and they’ll just get more mad.”

“Okay,” Jingyi says, “okay, okay. We’ve got this. We’ll just. Act totally normal.”

“Yeah. S’gonna be fine.”

They weave their way toward the entrance of the inn. A-Yuan stumbles over nothing, and they both tumble to the ground.

“Ow, shit.” Jingyi is face-down in the dirt, and pretty sure he’s bleeding somewhere.

“Here, c’mon.” A-Yuan pulls him to his feet.

Jingyi dusts himself off. Fucking white robes. Who the hell thought that was a good idea? At least A-Yuan’s robes hide dirt.

“Let’s do this,” Jingyi says.

They stop just outside the inn’s large door and look at each other. The noise of dozens of conversations flows out over them, momentarily distracting Jingyi from the task at hand. It’s so loud. Is it always so loud in these places? Do they really have to go in?

“Let’s go,” A-Yuan says, and grabs Jingyi’s hand. “Just be normal.”

“Yeah.” Jingyi intertwines their fingers. “It’s gonna be fine.”

They walk through the doorway. Jingyi has to concentrate very hard on the walking. Putting one foot in front of the other. Holding A-Yuan’s hand tightly. Totally normal. Steady.

The inn’s tavern is busy, with nearly every table full. They stop a few steps in and look around. It’s all a little blurry.

“Do you see them?” Jingyi asks.

“No. Just keep walking.”

They move forward again. Looking around and walking at the same time is not happening. Jingyi cannot do both. He focuses on the walking.

“There you are,” a man says, suddenly appearing in front of them. “Hanguang-jun and his… uh, friend went upstairs already. He asked me to show you to your room and bring you dinner.”

They both stare blankly at him. Jingyi sways a little. A-Yuan squeezes his hand so tight it hurts. The man stares back, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Thank you, Laoban,” Jingyi says. He attempts to bow, but A-Yuan keeps a firm hold in his hand, so it’s an awkward half-thing.

“Thank you,” A-Yuan repeats, still staring at him with something like awe on his face. “We’re fine.”

The man shakes his head at them, but he looks more amused than anything. Maybe. Jingyi’s not really sure.

They follow him up the stairs, which is a feat. The world is swaying a little bit too much by the time Jingyi reaches the top, and his stomach along with it.

The man leads them to a room at the very end of the hall, briefly points out where everything is, then leaves them with a promise to have food sent up shortly.

The door closes, and they turn to look at each other.

“Can you believe—” Jingyi says, just as A-Yuan says, “We are so damn lucky.” They burst into giggles.

“Noooo, shhhh, they’ll hear!” A-Yuan says in a very loud whisper.

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Jingyi loud-whispers back.

They stare at each other. They burst into giggles again.

“I can’t stand up,” Jingyi says, loud enough that A-Yuan shushes him again. “Shit.”

“Here, just—” A-Yuan drags him toward the bed.

“Wow,” Jingyi says as he sits. They’re not in trouble. They didn’t get caught. Hanguang-jun will never have to know.

“We’re so good at this,” A-Yuan says, a touch of wonder in his voice. “That guy didn’t even notice.”

“Nope.” Jingyi pulls off his boots and wiggles his toes.

“I thought we were dead.” A-Yuan sits on the bed next to Jingyi, then lists to the side, leaning heavily against him. “So fucking dead.”

Jingyi leans against him in turn, suddenly needing an anchor. “When I close my eyes it feels like the room is spinning.”

“Yeah, I—” A-Yuan makes a pained sound and sits up again. “Okay, whoa. Eyes open.”

There’s a knock on the door, and they both look at each other.

“What if it’s Ba, come to check on us?” A-Yuan’s eyes are wide. “You open it.”

“Why me? I’m the one who’ll get punished for this. You’ll just do the puppy eyes thing and he’ll laugh it off. Oh, my cute little radish is drunk, so sweet!”

A-Yuan turns to look at him, puppy eyes in full effect.

“Stop,” Jingyi whines, shoving his shoulder so hard he falls off the bed. “It doesn’t work on me.”

“Yes, it does.” A-Yuan pushes himself onto his knees, then braces his arms across Jingyi’s thighs and looks up at him again with big, sad brown eyes.

“Ah, fuck, it totally does.” Jingyi pets his head like a dog. “How are you so cute?”

A-Yuan bursts into giggles at that. Jingyi shushes him again.

There’s a louder, more insistent knock. “Gongzi,” someone calls. It’s not a familiar voice. “Your food is here.”

They both scramble to the door. There’s a young woman on the other side holding a tray laden with dishes. She ducks her head slightly, then enters with the tray. She sets out two large bowls of congee, a teapot, and a few other small bowls.

They both look at the food, then back up at her, confused.

“Trust me and eat it all,” she says, looking as if she’s trying very hard not to smile. “You’ll feel better in the morning if you do.”

They thank her, probably a bit too profusely judging by her barely restrained laughter, then she closes the door behind her.

The tea smells strong when Jingyi pours it, but it’s far less astringent than the tea he usually drinks at home. A-Yuan sits across from him and they eat in silence. Jingyi’s used to that, of course, but it’s unusual for A-Yuan to eat without speaking between bites.

“You’re quiet,” Jingyi says at last.

A-Yuan hesitates, scrunching up his face, then looks up at Jingyi. “What if Ba finally went too far? What if Hanguang-jun is so angry he can’t let it go? What if they…” He trails off and his face crumples.

“They’re probably in bed right now,” Jingyi offers. “Every time they fight, they just fuck it out of their systems.”

“Don’t remind me.” A-Yuan groans and presses a hand over his face. “I’m serious. What if they split up, for real?”

Jingyi swallows down a pulse of distress at the thought. It doesn’t seem possible. They wouldn’t really split up, would they? He shakes his head. “Impossible.”

“Ba needs Hanguang-jun. He can’t—I don’t know what would happen if they—I can’t do it by myself.” He hesitates, seems to need a moment to rein in his emotions.

Jingyi waits, looks down at his food to give him some space. He knows A-Yuan is dealing with a lot, but he’s also, suddenly, selfishly worried for himself. If Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian split up, he might never see A-Yuan again. He takes a breath, tries not to panic. There’s no point in freaking out now, when they don’t even know what’s happening. He can’t stop it, though. His emotions threaten to overwhelm him for the third time in a few hours. He didn’t know alcohol would do this. It’s fucking weird.

“You won’t have to.” Jingyi reaches across the table and squeezes A-Yuan’s hand. “If they do split up, we’ll get them back together. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

A-Yuan’s eyes are a little watery, but he nods. He squeezes Jingyi’s hand.

“It’ll be fine,” Jingyi says, more to reassure himself than anything else. “I promise.”

“Okay.” A-Yuan lets go of his hand and pulls his knees up to his chest. He looks so young suddenly. Jingyi wants to hug him, to wrap A-Yuan up in his arms so tight he can’t feel anything else. He could do it, just go sit next to him and hug him.

Before he can make a move, there’s another knock at the door. It’s the woman again, this time carrying a basin of hot water for them to wash up with. She smiles to herself the whole time, as if she’s thinking about something funny.

Jingyi eyes the water basin, thinking of how gross he feels. He’s not used to going this long without a proper bath. A-Yuan still looks lost in thought, so Jingyi pats him on the shoulder and carries the water basin behind the room’s privacy screen.

It’s not a bath, but it’s better than nothing, and Jingyi feels a lot better once he’s cleaned up and settled in bed. His head is clearer now, but sleepiness has taken its place. He’s almost drifted off by the time A-Yuan bundles in beside him. Both of them smell a lot better now.

“You asleep?” A-Yuan asks softly. When Jingyi hums in reply, he turns onto his side and presses his forehead against Jingyi’s shoulder. “Sorry if I made an ass of myself tonight.”

“No more than I did,” Jingyi says, reaching over to pat the side of A-Yuan’s head.

“I’ve never gotten this drunk before. It’s weird.”

“I’ve never gotten drunk at all.”

“Wow, really? Huh.”

“At least we got to do it together.”

“Yeah.” A-Yuan finds his hand in the dark and squeezes it.

He leaves his hand there, fingers against Jingyi’s. Jingyi hears him yawn, listens as his breathing evens out. He loses himself in swirling thoughts, memories of the events of the day, and drifts.

When he wakes up at mao shi, he’s thirsty, but otherwise none the worse for wear. A-Yuan is still out cold, so Jingyi gets up long enough to use the chamberpot, then drink cooled tea from the night before. He climbs back into bed and tries to go back to sleep.

He can’t, though; once he’s got up and going, it’s too much to settle himself back down again. He finally gives up and turns onto his side to watch A-Yuan sleep. His face is relaxed, his mouth slightly open. His hair is coming loose from the bun he’d tied it up into, loose tendrils falling all over the pillow. He looks beautiful in the morning light. Jingyi blinks at that thought, at that word. He can’t think of a better one, though.

At last A-Yuan shifts, grumbles, squints his eyes against the brightness of the light streaming in through the room’s single window.

“How do you feel?” Jingyi asks when he finally pries his eyes open.

A-Yuan yawns, scrubs his hands over his face. “Okay, I think. Aren’t you supposed to feel awful?”

“Maybe the congee worked.”

“Maybe. Did we spend all of our money last night?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a little more.” Jingyi raises his eyebrows. “If you’ll get up, we might have time to go buy something sweet.”

“Xiao Yi, you’re my favorite,” A-Yuan says, and pulls Jingyi down into a hug. Jingyi laughs and squirms against his chest until A-Yuan finally pushes him away. “Let me up. I gotta piss.”

To their surprise, Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian are sitting at a table when they head downstairs. Jingyi and A-Yuan exchange a concerned look. The two of them never get up early when they spend a night together like this. It’s usually a couple of hours more before the boys expect to see them. It doesn’t seem like a good sign.

“Hanguang-jun,” Jingyi says, bowing in greeting. “Wei-qianbei.”

“Good morning,” Wei Wuxian says, then turns to A-Yuan. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” A-Yuan replies. His expression is tense as he looks back and forth between them. “Is everything okay?”

Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian look at each other, and something quiet passes between them. They look tired, but not angry.

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian says. He reaches for Hangaung-jun’s hand and squeezes it, as if to show the boys it’s all fine. “I know the plan was to go home today, but we were just talking about continuing on to a village down the road. We’ve heard there’s a small disturbance there, something that the two of you could probably handle on your own.” He looks up at them, eyebrows raised.

It takes all of Jingyi’s carefully cultivated control to stay calm and simply nod his assent.

“Yes!” A-Yuan says, not bothering to contain his excitement. He turns to Jingyi, grinning. Jingyi grins back, unable to stop himself.

“Then sit and eat, and we’ll discuss the details as we know them.”

Jingyi bumps his knee against A-Yuan’s under the table, as close as he can come to saying, See? I told you it would be fine. A-Yuan bumps back, then presses their knees together like touching Jingyi is a lifeline.

An hour later, they’re walking down a well-maintained road on their way to the village they’d discussed. Jingyi and A-Yuan walk side-by-side, talking together easily, making plans for dispatching the ghost that apparently haunts a well near the center of the town. Several paces ahead of them, Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian also walk side by side. Every now and then Wei Wuxian reaches for Hanguang-jun, takes his arm or his hand, and they walk like that for a while, touching each other. Hanguang-jun doesn’t say much in response to Wei Wuxian’s constant chatter, but then, he rarely does.

“Looks like everything’s fine,” Jingyi whispers.

A-Yuan frowns. “We’ll see.”

Jingyi leans in close. “At least we didn’t get in trouble.”

A-Yuan bumps his shoulder at that, and smiles. Something about his smile makes Jingyi’s insides flutter.

He knows he’s lucky to have such a good friend. Even though they don’t get to see each other often, they make the most of the time they do get to spend together. Someday they’ll be old enough to go night hunting on their own, just the two of them, Jingyi can’t wait.

+++

Chapter Text

Jingyi is sixteen years old, and he’s excited.

He can’t show it, though. He’s the most senior Lan disciple here, so he has to be the perfect model of discipline and control, a leader and role model for the others—an example of the kind of young cultivators the Lan sect produces. Disciples from other sects will be watching him constantly, waiting for him to fuck this up. For an entire month.

So he’s excited, but he’s also terrified.

Hanguang-jun had flown with them to the edge of Yunmeng, then had left Jingyi in charge and gone on his way. To where, he hadn’t said, but Jingyi assumes he’s heading straight to the Burial Mounds.

Jingyi watches him disappear over the trees, then turns to the group of four Lan disciples. They look at him expectantly, waiting for instructions. It’s still bizarre that the same kids who made fun of him when he was little now look to him with respect.

“Let’s go,” he says, and starts walking towards the main part of town. He doesn’t look back to see if they follow—he doesn’t have to.

Yunmeng is a lively place, still enveloped in the warmth of summer—unlike Gusu, where the mornings and evenings are chilly this far into autumn. The streets are full of people laughing and smiling and going about their business. Children play in the streets with toy swords, stopping to stare open-mouthed at them as they pass. Jingyi winks at one small boy, who gasps and claps a hand over his own mouth in response. They pass stalls selling foods that smell rich and spicy, others selling kitchen goods, knick-knacks, hand-made jewelry, and the like.

Jingyi knows the disciples behind him are struggling not to gape at it all. Most of them have barely been out of Gusu, and he’s sure they would love to stop and stare. They’re embarrassingly late as it is, though. The trip here had been rougher than expected—the twins’ endurance for flying had not been good, and they’d moved more slowly than Hanguang-jun had preferred, arriving a full day later than planned. That was the reason he’d left them at the edge of town, Jingyi privately thought. Wei Wuxian was waiting, after all.

So if Jingyi is a little extra strict with his charges, they definitely deserve it.

The entrance to Lotus Pier is on the far side of the town, down the road that runs along the edge of the lake. Jingyi’s never been here before, but A-Yuan has described it to him in enough detail that it looks familiar.

They present themselves at the gate and are led through the expansive grounds, down walkways over lotus ponds, then through a large courtyard. At the far end is the main banquet hall.

They stop at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the entrance, each of them taking a moment to adjust their clothing and smooth their hair into place. Jingyi nods at the Jiang disciple at the door, who ushers them inside and announces their arrival as representatives of the Lan sect.

They appear to be the last sect to arrive. There are tables set along both sides of the large hall, where junior disciples from several sects are seated, watching them as they walk down the central aisle toward the dais at the far side. Sandu Shengshou is seated behind a table there, with a woman Jingyi assumes is Jiang-furen at his side.

Jingyi stops before the dais and bows deeply. The other disciples follow his lead, bowing as well. Sandu Shengshou nods in acknowledgment.

Jingyi turns to look at Jia Wanmiao, the second-most senior Lan disciple here. She nods and pulls a small wooden box from her sleeve. She hands it over, and Jingyi steps forward to present it to Sandu Shengshou. A servant comes forward to take it and hand it over. Sandu Shengshou opens the box, nods appreciatively, then sets it aside.

His gaze weighs heavily on Jingyi for a long moment before he nods to the disciple who brought them in.

“If you wish,” the disciple tells them, “you may greet the representatives from other sects before you take your seats.”

Jingyi nods, signaling to the others to fall in behind him. They turn first to the largest group there, the junior disciples from the Jiang sect. There are ten of them, all looking at the new arrivals with a great deal of curiosity. Jingyi bows and introduces himself, and the rest of his group follows his example. From there, they cross to the other side of the dais, where there is a group of five disciples from the Jin sect. The one who steps up to greet them first appears to be the youngest of the bunch—the sect heir, Jingyi assumes, from the way the others defer to him, despite his age.

They circle around the room, meeting junior disciples from the Yu, Ouyang, and Ezhou sects. Jingyi tries not to make it obvious that he’s scanning the room for one very obviously missing face, but by the time they reach their own set of tables, it’s clear that A-Yuan isn’t here. Jingyi swallows down the sudden anxiety that rises in his throat. A-Yuan is supposed to be here. They’ve been looking forward to this junior discussion conference for nearly a year. They’ve written each other about it and talked about it endlessly the last few times they’ve seen each other. The prospect of an entire month spent together was something they’ve both been so excited about.

“Shixiong,” Jia Wanmiao whispers from her seat next to him. “Is everything all right?”

He turns a surprised face to her. “Sorry?”

“You look worried.”

Jingyi tries to smooth out his expression. “I just feel bad that we were so late. They seem to have been waiting for us to arrive.”

She narrows her eyes at him, like she knows it’s not the complete truth. A servant brings them tea and wet cloths to refresh themselves from their journey before she can call him on it.

At the front of the room, Sandu Shengshou stands, preparing to begin the discussion conference.

Jingyi’s disappointment roils in his stomach. He wants to curl up into a ball and lie on the floor behind this table, but he can’t. He has to be poised and unaffected, even though the idea of not seeing his best friend is causing him physical pain.

“Welcome, disciples, to the first junior discussion conference held at Lotus Pier. The Jiang sect welcomes you and hopes that—”

The door at the entrance of the hall opens, and an embarrassed-looking Jiang disciple rushes to the front. He bows low, then speaks softly to Sandu Shengshou. After a moment, Sandu Shengshou nods, looking as if he’s mildly irritated. He turns to Jiang-furen, who looks amused. The disciple hurries back to the entrance, then opens the doors.

The figure that sweeps down the central aisle of the hall captures everyone’s attention immediately. He’s dressed in robes of gray so dark they’re almost black, trimmed in red. His hair flows behind him as he moves and his robes swirl like smoke. He looks so much like his father that it takes Jingyi’s breath away.

A-Yuan strides to the front of the hall and bows before Sandu Shengshu, radiating confidence. He doesn’t seem to be even the slightest bit embarrassed about the lateness of his arrival. Disciples from all the gathered sects whisper in his wake, their expressions a mix of astonishment and curiosity. The Jiang disciples at the front of the hall grin widely, giddy in their excitement. Sandu Shengshou looks fond, yet exasperated.

A-Yuan bows deeply. “Sandu Shengshou, please forgive this one’s rudeness, for he was unavoidably detained. No disrespect is intended.”

Sandu Shengshou sighs. “You may take your seat, Wei-gonzi.”

A-Yuan stands and grins at him, then crosses to where the Jiang sect disciples are sitting. There seems to be a bit of a scuffle over where he will sit, which is ultimately won by a round-faced disciple who elbows others out of the way to grasp A-Yuan by the elbow and lead him to sit at his table. A-Yuan laughs and sits, mouthing greetings to the others. The group quiets down after a stern look from their sect leader, who continues his welcome speech.

Jingyi ought to be listening, but he can’t focus on anything other than A-Yuan. A-Yuan hasn’t looked Jingyi’s way, hasn’t even acknowledged his presence. He’s sitting in the middle of the Jiang disciples, who are now all listening attentively to their sect leader, but whose enthusiasm for his arrival is still visible in their body language.

Sandu Shengshou keeps the welcome mercifully short, then signals for the servants to begin bringing the meal. The disciples around A-Yuan burst into excited conversation once again, crowding around him and chattering at him animatedly.

So, okay: Jingyi knows that A-Yuan comes to train with the Jiang sect frequently, but this enthusiastic welcome is far more than Jingyi would have expected. A-Yuan had never mentioned being close with the disciples here. He’s never said anything that would indicate this level of affection with the sect. The disciple who managed to get A-Yuan to sit next to him throws a possessive arm around him and says something that makes the others cheer. A-Yuan laughs and ducks his head, embarrassed but also delighted.

Jingyi’s stomach sinks like a rock in his belly. He forces himself to look away. He picks up the cooling cup of tea in front of him and takes a measured sip. He doesn’t know what to make of this. As far as he’d known before now, A-Yuan doesn’t have any friends. Jingyi had thought the two of them were alike in that way. Jingyi isn’t close with any of the Lan disciples, not even the ones he’s leading here. They’re classmates, but hardly more than that. He can’t imagine any of them reacting to his arrival the way the Jiang disciples responded to A-Yuan.

Movement at the front of the hall catches his eye: the youngest of the Jin disciples—Jin Rulan, he recalls—has crossed over to the Jiang sect and is also talking to A-Yuan. A-Yuan smiles and gets to his feet, then envelops the boy in a warm hug. Jingyi is astonished for a moment before he realizes this must be A-Yuan’s cousin. He’s only heard him called A-Ling before.

Jin Rulan pulls A-Yuan over to the Jin sect’s table and introduces him to the disciples there. A-Yuan bows to them, smiling, and they all stare back at him with more than a touch of awe. Jiang-furen leaves her seat on the dais and comes down to greet him as well. She hugs him too, then holds him at arms’ length with her hands on his shoulders, and looks him over. She pats his cheek with one palm and speaks with him for a few minutes before releasing him again.

“Who is he?” he hears one of the Lan disciples whisper behind him. They’re not the only ones whispering; disciples from the other sects are watching A-Yuan’s movements with a great deal of curiosity.

A-Yuan makes his way around the hall slowly, introducing himself to the members of each sect. He’ll reach the Lans’ table last, Jingyi realizes. A-Yuan still hasn’t looked over at him, so the closer he draws, the more nervous Jingyi becomes. He has no idea what will happen when A-Yuan is finally in front of him.

A-Yuan stops to speak with the disciples from the Yu sect, then the Ezhou sect. He crosses the room to speak with the Ouyang sect disciples, and then, finally, makes his way to the Lan sect. He bows and introduces himself to each disciple, who introduce themselves in turn. And then he’s standing before Jingyi, his expression perfectly blank, like he’s never seen Jingyi before in his life.

He raises his arms and bows. “Lan-gonzi, an honor. I am Wei Sizhui, guest of the Jiang sect for this conference.” He looks at Jingyi expectantly.

Jingyi has no idea what’s going on. They hadn’t discussed anything like this. Are they really going to pretend not to know each other for this entire conference? Jingyi feels like he might vomit.

He swallows hard, tries to keep his expression neutral, then returns the salute. He looks up at A-Yuan before speaking, trying very hard to communicate Really? with his eyes. A-Yuan’s expression does not change. Jingyi sighs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wei-gonzi. I am Lan Jingyi.” His tone is flat and formal, and he’s sure his disappointment bleeds through. He’s a shit actor, always has been.

A-Yuan stares back at him for one long moment, then his face erupts in a grin. Jingyi stares back at him, and A-Yuan bursts out laughing.

“Xiao Yi, you should see your face!”

Jingyi gapes at him for another second, then steps forward and gives his shoulder a shove. “Asshole!”

He hears the gasps of all the disciples within earshot, but he ignores them. Relief and anger wash over him all at once.

“Sorry, sorry!” A-Yuan pulls him into a hug, still laughing. “You totally fell for it, though.”

Jingyi hugs him back, unable to help himself. “What the hell?”

A-Yuan presses his mouth close to Jingyi’s ear and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I’m so fucking glad to see you. I missed you.”

“I will kick your ass if you ever pull that again,” Jingyi says, then adds, “I missed you too.” He steps back, hands on A-Yuan’s shoulders. He’s still pissed, but he’ll get over it. A-Yuan’s bright smile is infectious, and Jingyi ultimately can’t stop himself from returning it.

The servants bring the first course to the tables, and they both realize they’re holding up the meal.

“We’ll talk later,” A-Yuan says, and gives his arms a squeeze before heading back to the Jiang sect’s tables.

The Jiang disciples are all staring at Jingyi now, clearly wondering who he is and how he knows A-Yuan. The disciple who’d shared his table with A-Yuan seems especially perturbed. A few gather around A-Yuan when he sits, whispering and glancing in Jingyi’s direction.

Jingyi ignores them, turning to look at the food laid out on their table. It’s a moment before he realizes the Lan disciples are all staring at him too.

“What?” he asks, suddenly exasperated.

“You know him?” the twins say in unison.

“Wei Sizhui,” Jia Wanmiao says, looking thoughtful. “Is he related to Wei Wuxian?”

“The Yiling Patriarch?” Shao Yunyu looks shocked at the very idea. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Shixiong, you seem to know him well,” Lan Hongya says, her eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” her brother Lan Zhiyi adds, his eyes alight now too. “How do you know him?”

“Probably from all those trips he’s gone on with Hanguang-jun,” Shao Yunyu says.

Lan Zhiyi gasps. “Wait, does that mean Hanguang-jun actually knows the Yiling Patriarch? I thought that was just a rumor.”

Jingyi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It’s rare that he feels overwhelmed these days—he’s usually able to meditate and stay away from situations that create anxiety, but there’s nothing for it now. He just needs a few minutes of quiet, or else he’ll explode.

“No speaking during meals,” Jia Wanmiao says sternly, and the others immediately go quiet. “And stop gossiping. It’s none of our business, is it?”

Jingyi exhales, lets himself calm down again. He gives Jia Wanmiao a grateful look.

The room buzzes around them as the other disciples dig into the meal. The food is richer than what they eat at Cloud Recesses, and with an amount of spice that Jingyi’s had many times before. The other Lan disciples seem to be struggling, though.

Lan Zhiyi coughs, and whispers something to his sister. When Jingyi turns to look at them, they both look down at their food again, chagrined.

Jingyi sighs. This really isn’t how he wants to spend the next month. “We’re guests here,” he says softly, not looking up from his meal. “It would be rude not to follow the lead of our hosts in etiquette.”

“Isn’t it rude for them to serve us such spicy food?” Lan Zhiyi retorts, his voice pitched low.

Jingyi turns to him and smirks. “If you can’t handle it, I’m sure we can ask for something more bland.”

“I can handle it,” Lan Zhiyi retorts with a sniffle.

“I like it,” Jia Wanmiao says, a haughty tone to her voice. “It reminds me of my Popo’s cooking.”

“We’re going to be here for a while,” Jingyi says. “We were each chosen to represent the Lan sect at this conference, and we’re going to do that.” He looks at each of them in turn as he speaks. “But many things will be different from what we’re used to. The sect rules don’t always apply. You’ll have to use your own judgment.”

“We haven’t had as much experience as you,” Shao Yunyu says, his tone a bit pointed.

“But we can learn,” Jia Wanmiao says, her tone just as sharp. Shao Yunyu nods and looks away, clearly embarrassed now.

“Good,” Jingyi says after a long moment. He turns back to his food.

The other disciples talk quietly as they eat, seemingly enjoying the novelty of it. Jingyi’s gaze keeps drifting over to the Jiang disciples, to where A-Yuan is the center of attention, apparently telling a story.

“So,” Jia Wanmiao says softly, leaning in a little closer. “You know Wei Sizhui.” It’s not a question, but it’s inflected to imply she expects an answer.

“Yes.” Jingyi pauses. After years of deflecting, he’s never thought through how to explain it. “We’ve been friends for years.”

“I’m glad. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t think you had any friends.”

Jingyi snorts. “You’re not wrong.”

She gives him a pitying look, and he pretends he didn’t see it.

The other Lan disciples warm up quickly to the idea of talking during the meal, but Jingyi stays quiet. He’s still feeling unbalanced, and he hates it. He can handle a bit of uncertainty, but when things don’t go the way he expects, it takes him a while to settle down again.

A-Yuan knows that, is the thing. Or at least, Jingyi thought he did. His stomach twists again. He pushes his plate away, appetite gone.

He tries not to keep looking over at the Jiang disciples, but he can’t help it. He feels pathetic, sitting here and waiting for A-Yuan to pay attention to him. Why hadn’t he ever mentioned he was so friendly with the disciples here?

Jia Wanmiao chatters at him, asking him questions about the Jiang sect that he can’t really answer. He appreciates the effort, though. She could just ignore him like she usually does, but for some reason, she’s taken pity on him.

“You could just go over and talk to him, you know.”

Jingyi frowns, embarrassed that he’s being so obvious. “Everyone else is staying with their sects. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Or you could sit there and pout.” She raises her eyebrows.

“I’m not pouting.”

“You are, actually.”

Before Jingyi can reply, a Jiang disciple approaches their table and bows. There’s a round of proper greetings, then he informs them he’ll be showing them to their guest quarters when they’re ready.

Jingyi sighs as the group rises to go. He glances over at the tables near the front on the way out, but A-Yuan doesn’t even notice he’s leaving.

Fine, Jingyi thinks viciously as they head out of the hall.

The sun has set in the meanwhile; the sky is flush with purples and oranges. The disciple points out various important buildings as they wind through the compound. Many of the walkways are over water, making the place feel tranquil in a way that’s different from any place Jingyi’s ever been. Despite his irritation at the circumstances, he has to admit that Lotus Pier is truly lovely.

The disciple pauses to point out a large building on the other side of a lotus pond from where they’re standing. “That’s the main dormitory for the junior disciples. You should come over after you get settled in. There’s going to be an informal welcome party.” He grins at them.

The other disciples giggle and whisper as they continue on. The rock that had settled in Jingyi’s stomach lifts a bit. Maybe he’ll get to see A-Yuan tonight after all. Maybe he can lure him away from his admirers long enough to have a conversation.

The guest house they’re shown to is divided, with a room for the girls on one side and the boys on the other. They pull their belongings from qiankun pouches and claim beds. Lan Zhiyi and Shao Yunyu chatter excitedly about the weeks ahead, but Jingyi has nothing to say. His emotions are a mess, and now he’s actually thinking of pretending to be too ill to go to the Jiang dormitory later. He wants to curl up in this comfortable-looking bed and go to sleep. Maybe it will all be better in the morning.

What had seemed like the most exciting event of the year just hours ago now is an ordeal to dread. Jingyi would cry if he were alone. The only person he feels like he could talk to about it is the one person he can’t seem to talk to right now. It’s awful. Why is his life so terrible? Why is he like this?

He flops face-forward onto the bed and groans.

“Shixiong?” Lan Zhiyi asks.

He hums noncommittally in reply.

“The girls said they’d knock on the door when they’re ready. And we, uh—” There’s a brief pause while the two whisper at each other. “We’d like to go, if—I mean, it’s probably going to go past hai shi, but you said that since we’re here, we should respect the rules of our hosts, right?”

Jingyi looks up at them and frowns. They both stare back, their expressions apprehensive.

Ohhhh. They think he disapproves of staying out past proper Lan bedtime. That he’d actually forbid them from going.

Wow.

He pushes himself to sitting. “Of course we should, yeah. Did the Jiang disciple mention a curfew?”

The boys shake their heads. Jingyi shrugs. “Well, if it’s important, they’ll probably tell us.”

“So… we’re going?” Shao Yunyu asks.

Damn, they really have the wrong idea about him. Jingyi sighs. “Yes, we’re going.”

The boys smile, both clearly relieved.

By the time the girls knock on the door, Jingyi’s almost gotten himself calm again. The closer they get to their destination, though, the more loudly his doubts start to whisper. His stomach lurches when they walk up to the entrance of the dormitory. They can hear chatter coming from inside—it sounds like most of the guest disciples are already there. It’s not even remotely quiet. Jingyi glances around at the otherwise serene compound. Sandu Shengshou must be a very tolerant sect leader.

It seems unlikely anyone will hear a knock, so they push open the door and step inside to a scene that would be unthinkable in Cloud Recesses. The noise hits them first, like a wave; chatter and laughter coming from every corner. Disciples from multiple sects are piled on the rows of beds, while others form small groups along the walls. There are jars of alcohol everywhere and the party is clearly in full swing. The Lan disciples seem to be the last to arrive.

Jia Wanmiao takes Lan Hongya’s arm and pulls her toward a group of female disciples gathered on the far side of the room. Next to Jingyi, Lan Zhiyi and Shao Yunyu seem mesmerized by all the noise and excitement.

Jingyi looks around the room again, and finally spots A-Yuan with a group from the Jiang sect. They’re all piled on one of the dorm beds, passing around bottles of liquor. A-Yuan is perched on the lap of the round-faced boy from earlier.

There’s a sudden, prickling heat at the base of Jingyi’s skull. He takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders, and crosses over to the group. He hears Shao Yunyu and Lan Zhiyi scramble to follow him, apparently not yet ready to go off on their own.

The Jiang disciples look up as he approaches. Someone elbows A-Yuan and he looks up too. The moment his eyes meet Jingyi’s, he grins and leaps to his feet. His smile is wide and relieved, and Jingyi feels a strange pull at that. Had A-Yuan been worried that they wouldn’t see each other tonight?

A-Yuan has a bottle and a cup in his hand. He pours a drink, then holds it out to Jingyi like an apology.

Jingyi smirks a little at that. A-Yuan owes him more than a drink after giving him the cold shoulder all evening. A-Yuan’s expression falls a little, like he’s really worried now. Jingyi kind of wants to let him squirm.

“Hey Sizhui, don’t you know?” one of the Jiang disciples calls, his tone teasing. “Lans don’t drink.”

Jingyi schools his features into his best impression of Hanguang-jun and looks over at the one who spoke. He looks familiar—Jingyi thinks he recognizes him from the group that came to study in Gusu last summer. He hadn’t spent much time with the visiting students, though; he’d spent much of summer shadowing Hanguang-jun on sect business.

He gazes coolly at the Jiang disciple, then back to A-Yuan, who is staring at Jingyi with more than a little trepidation now. Jingyi takes the cup, letting his fingers brush against A-Yuan’s as he does.

“Alcohol is forbidden in Cloud Recesses,” he says, still staring right at A-Yuan. He lets one corner of his mouth turn up into a tiny smile, sees the recognition of it in A-Yuan’s eyes. “But we’re not in Cloud Recesses right now, are we?” He raises the cup to his lips and knocks it back in one go.

The Jiang disciples laugh in delight, attracting the attention of everyone else in the room. A-Yuan grins as he holds out the bottle and refills the cup. Jingyi drinks that down too, the burn a strange relief from the tension in his throat. He glances around the room, taking in the number of people who are watching him right now, their expressions varying from curiously surprised to thoroughly entertained. Next to him, Shao Yunyu and Lan Zhiyi are staring at him with wide eyes. It’s kind of a lot to suddenly be the center of everyone’s attention.

A-Yuan steps forward and takes Jingyi’s arm. “Wanna get drunk?”

“Yes, please.” Jingyi lets himself be tugged over to the bed.

“Move over,” A-Yuan says to the round-faced boy whose lap he’d recently been sitting on.

The boy frowns. “There’s no space for anyone else. And besides, it’s my bed.”

“Fine,” A-Yuan says, his tone easy, like he doesn’t care. He picks up another bottle of liquor from the arrangement on a table next to the bed. “We can sit on the floor, right?”

He turns and looks at Jingyi, eyebrows raised in question, and for a moment everything else melts away. Jingyi suddenly wants nothing more than to take his hand and pull him away, out the door and off to somewhere quiet where the two of them can just talk, at last. Jingyi feels desperate to reconnect with A-Yuan right now, to feel like everything is okay between them again. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone else.

A-Yuan is looking back at him in a way that makes Jingyi think he’s feeling the same. “C’mon,” he says, and wraps fingers around Jingyi’s arm, takes him over to a slightly quieter spot.

They settle on the floor together, knees touching. A-Yuan hands the bottle to Jingyi. Jingyi pries off the seal, takes a drink, and passes it back.

“I thought you were mad at me,” A-Yuan says. “I’m sorry about the way I acted when I came in. It was stupid.”

“I was mad at you. But I’m over it.”

“I was kind of freaked out after. And then all these guys were just— Anyway, I looked up and you were gone, and I thought—”

“It’s okay,” Jingyi says, reaching for his hand. He squeezes it. He’s so relieved to know it was just a stupid misunderstanding. “We’re good now. Forget it.”

A-Yuan exhales and visibly relaxes. “I have so much to tell you. And a few things to show you. But first, tell me about you. How was the journey here?”

They fall right back into conversation just as they always do. A-Yuan listens, genuinely interested even when Jingyi goes off topic or into too much detail. He always does.

A while later, A-Yuan gets up to get them another bottle. He gets caught up in conversation with the boy from before—Peng Wangshu, Jingyi now knows. A-Yuan had named off all the Jiang disciples for him, and that was the only name that had stuck. Peng Wangshu looks to be about the same age as them, with a sweet face and eyes that are currently fixed on A-Yuan in unabashed admiration. Every time A-Yuan seems to be about to turn away, Peng Wangshu says something else to keep his attention.

A-Yuan can be nice to a fault, Jingyi knows, and genuinely likes talking with people. He’s always been the one who’s done the talking when they’re somewhere together, whether it’s asking villagers questions about the spiritual anomaly they’re about to investigate or bartering over the price of sweets in a market. Jingyi has always been uncomfortable talking to strangers, and he’s been happy to let A-Yuan speak for him on those occasions.

Peng Wangshu gestures for A-Yuan to sit in the empty space next to him. Before Jingyi can even begin getting riled up about that, A-Yuan says something more and turns away, leaving Peng Wangshu looking disappointed. Jingyi feels more than a little smug as A-Yuan walks back over, a swirl of dark robes and hair, a soft smile lighting up his face. Jingyi’s gaze flicks back over to Peng Wangshu, who is now staring at Jingyi with a very distinct frown. He flushes and looks away the moment he’s caught.

A-Yuan settles down next to Jingyi again, and Jingyi can’t help sliding an arm around him possessively. A-Yuan leans into it, and Jingyi smirks, just a little.

For a while after that, Jingyi floats in a haze of alcohol, consumed by the joy of being with his best friend. Excitement for the weeks ahead starts to fill his chest again. It’s going to be amazing, even better than they’d dreamed. A-Yuan talks about his extended family and how happy they are now, what a relief it is for everyone but especially Ba, something something. Jingyi nods and listens to the timbre of A-Yuan’s voice more than the words themselves. He’s missed this, so much.

The party ends eventually: an older Jiang disciple sticks his head through the door and shouts at them. “You’re all expected on the field at si shi, so I’d get to sleep if I were you!”

There’s grumbling, but everyone begins to clear out all the same.

To Jingyi’s surprise, A-Yuan leaves the Jiang dormitory with the Lan disciples. Jin Rulan joins them as they head out the door.

“Biao-ge,” he says, leaning heavily into A-Yuan’s side. “There you are.” His words are definitely slurred.

A-Yuan frowns. “How much did you drink?”

“No more than usual,” Jin Rulan retorts.

“Which is more than you should. A-Ling, you’re too young to carry on like this.”

Jin Rulan rolls his eyes. “Like you weren’t doing the same thing when you were my age.”

Jingyi snorts. He knows very well that A-Yuan was doing exactly that, because he was doing it with him. Jin Rulan grins over at him conspiratorially.

“No one has high expectations for me, though,” A-Yuan says. “Not like you.”

“I’m the eldest son of a wealthy clan,” Jin Rulan retorts. “This is exactly what people expect of me.”

A-Yuan shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue.

They’re nearly back at the guest house before Jingyi asks, “So where are you staying?”

“In the family guest house,” A-Yuan says, sliding an arm around his cousin to support him. “It’s where I usually stay when I visit.”

“Me too,” Jin Rulan says, then looks at Jingyi again. “Ohhhhh—you’re Lan Jingyi, right? Yuan-ge’s—”

“Yep, that’s him,” A-Yuan says, elbowing Jin Rulan hard in the side. “Tomorrow’s an important day and we don’t want to piss off Shufu.”

“I know, I know,” Jin Rulan groans.

“Important day?” Jingyi asks.

A-Yuan sighs. “Just be ready to show off your martial arts skills. This is you, right?”

They’re standing in front of their assigned guest hose, Jingyi realizes with a start. Shao Yunyu and Lan Zhiyi wave goodnight and head in, both of them clearly swaying as they walk. Jingyi lingers, not ready to let go just yet.

The thing is, every time he’s been with A-Yuan overnight, they’ve stayed together. Usually in beds a short distance apart, whispering to each other in the dark until they fall asleep, and sometimes even tucked into the same bed. He’s not used to the idea of not sleeping near A-Yuan.

“Good night,” A-Yuan says. He sounds as reluctant as Jingyi feels. If it weren’t for Jin Rulan tugging on A-Yuan’s arm, Jingyi thinks they might stay out here a while, talking quietly.

“Come on,” Jin Rulan whines. “You’ll see each other tomorrow. And besides—”

A-Yuan clamps a hand over Jin Rulan’s mouth. “Don’t,” he hisses. He turns to Jingyi. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Yeah, good night.” Jingyi watches them both continue on down the walkway toward the family compound.

Lan Zhiyi and Shao Yunyu are both getting ready for bed when he comes back in. They whisper at each other while Jingyi starts his own preparations, long enough that he finally turns and looks at them.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Shao Yunyu says, looking sheepish.

“Yeah, nothing,” Lan Zhiyi says. “But like—when did you get so cool?”

“Cool,” Jingyi repeats, blinking at them. “What?”

“I mean, you’re like Hanguang-jun’s apprentice, so everyone thinks you’re like him. But you’re really not.”

“Which one of us are you trying to insult here?”

The boys exchange a glance, apparently realizing there’s no good way to answer that.

“So how do you know Wei Sizhui?” Shao Yunyu asks after a moment.

“I met him in my travels with Hanguang-jun. You know that.”

“Is he really Wei Wuxian’s son?” Lan Zhiyi asks, his words slurring noticeably.

“Have you met Wei Wuxian?” Shao Yunyu asks, stepping in closer. “Is he as scary as they say?”

Lan Zhiyi moves in closer too. “Is it true that Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun are secretly cultivation partners?”

“I heard that too, but I heard it was more like—” Shao Yunyu makes a rude gesture.

“Enough!” Jingyi says. Both boys flinch back from his voice, and Jingyi sighs. He isn’t supposed to yell, he knows. Hanguang-jun has talked to him about that. And besides, these two are clearly drunk. They’ll be very embarrassed about this whole conversation in the morning. “Just… go to sleep.”

They’ll get their questions answered sooner or later—that’s out of Jingyi’s hands. He’d much rather think about the apparent importance of tomorrow and A-Yuan’s soft smile as he walked away.

+++

He hears the others stirring before dawn. They haven’t learned how to sleep past mao shi yet, but Jingyi has, so he goes back to sleep.

At some point, breakfast is delivered, and Jingyi realizes he’s going to miss his chance to eat if he doesn’t get up. Sunlight is streaming through the windows by then, though. Lan Zhiyi and Shao Yunyu sit across the small table from Jingyi, bleary-eyed.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asks them through a mouthful of congee.

They both groan in unison. Jingyi swallows the urge to laugh. Late nights and alcohol are not something Lan disciples generally have much experience with. They’ll figure out how to balance it all eventually.

They’re on the training field at si shi with everyone else. Many of the disciples look a little worse for wear. Jingyi’s genuinely surprised not to be among them, but then, he knows his limits with alcohol better now than he used to.

Sandu Shengshou supervises while a group of older disciples put them through a tough set of exercise drills. The more the disciples seem to struggle, the tougher it gets. Jingyi wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the Jiang seniors were doing it on purpose, to teach everyone with a hangover a lesson.

After the initial drills, Sandu Shengshou splits them into four groups and tells them to spar in pairs.

Jingyi bounces on his feet, energized and ready for his first opponent. He’s in his element now—his skills with a sword are strong, maybe even the best among all the Lan disciples his age. He moved beyond the group classes a year ago and has been instructing younger disciples ever since.

He dispatches his first opponent so quickly that it’s genuinely disappointing. He waves off the stunned boy and pairs up with another, with much the same result. It’s not long before he’s defeated every disciple in his group. He switches into teaching mode then and watches them spar with each other, giving advice and instruction, and occasionally even stepping in and adjusting someone’s stance. He’s aware that the older Jiang disciples are observing him closely, whether in approval or not, he can’t be sure.

He gets his answer soon enough: Sandu Shengshou calls them all back together and announces that a few select disciples will do a special demonstration. “Wei Sizhui,” he says, and A-Yuan steps forward and bows to him. “And Lan Jingyi,” Sandu Shengshou adds.

Jingyi steps forward and bows as well, not entirely sure what’s happening. He glances at A-Yuan, who looks equally baffled.

Sandu Shengshou spends a few minutes talking about forms and the importance of reading your opponent’s movements, of building on to the traditional forms taught in one’s sect. He turns back to A-Yuan and Jingyi. “Show them,” he says simply, with a small raise of his eyebrows.

Jingyi and A-Yuan salute him, then turn to each other and repeat the formality. Jingyi has to struggle not to grin: he and A-Yuan spar all the time, have done ever since they first got their swords. It’s something they’ve always just done for fun, so the idea of doing it in front of everyone else as a serious example is sort of wild.

Jingyi draws his sword and A-Yuan mirrors him, and they begin. They’re very well-matched, is the thing. Neither of them has managed to defeat the other for quite a while; they usually go until they’re both exhausted, then call a draw. Jingyi can see the fire in A-Yuan’s eyes now, though: A-Yuan wants to win. Jingyi smirks right back at him. Yeah, that’s not gonna happen today.

Jingyi strikes first and sees the glimmer of excitement in A-Yuan’s eyes as he raises his sword to defend against it. Jingyi knows what he’ll do next, and is halfway there just as A-Yuan strikes. Their movements are quick and fluid as that connection blooms between them. Jingyi can’t explain it, isn’t even sure exactly how it happens, but every time they do this, they can predict each other’s movements without even really looking. Their styles have evolved and merged a bit over the years too, so that neither of them really fights in any particular tradition—it’s more like they’ve created their own.

The last time they were in the Burial Mounds together, they’d sparred and attracted a crowd of onlookers cheering and gasping and ahhhh-ing at every move. It’s much like that now, the other disciples shouting in admiration each time they read each other perfectly, each time one of them adjusts their trajectory mid-motion to try to catch the other off-guard, and finds their sword blocked all the same. They take the fight all over the field, forcing disciples to leap out the way to avoid being drawn in. They finally take it to the roofs of the buildings on the perimeter, to the cheers of the group.

“Enough!” Sandu Shengshou shouts at some point.

Jingyi has lost all sense of time, has no idea how long they’ve been going. He drops back down to the ground and catches his breath, leaning over with his hands on his knees. A-Yuan does the same, grinning at him.

“That was amazing,” Jingyi says, his voice pitched just for A-Yuan’s ears.

“You’re amazing,” A-Yuan replies, and before Jingyi can sputter out a response, the disciples have crowded around them, cheering and chattering in admiration.

Sandu Shengshou makes his way through the crowd and collects their attention again. He talks through all the important things the others should have noticed. His words are matter-of-fact, analytical, but Jingyi can still hear a touch of pride for his nephew in his tone.

From there they move on to archery. This is not Jingyi’s strength by any stretch, but he’s just cemented his reputation enough that it doesn’t matter. They start by shooting at targets in teams, with a few people getting eliminated every round. Jingyi goes out in the second round, which is about as well as he’d expected to do.

Jia Wanmiao is the best archer of the Lan group, and she makes it all the way to the last round. A-Yuan is fairly good as well, having spent a lot of his youth being taught by his father and his uncle Wen Ning. Jin Rulan is clearly the best, though, unerringly hitting the center of the target every time he shoots. Sandu Shengshou has him demonstrate some very tricky shots at the end, to everyone’s amazement. Jin Rulan seems to try very hard to contain his pride at having been singled out, but he still glows for a while afterward.

From there they move on to hand-to-hand combat, another area Jingyi is strong in. He makes a good showing, only losing once to a disciple from the Ouyang sect. It’s a fantastic morning, and he feels competent and accomplished by the time they all break for a midday meal. The other disciples all seem to look at him differently as they file into the dining hall, regarding him with a sort of reverence he’s not used to.

Jingyi was always the one who was annoying, who couldn’t sit still, who was slow to learn things and awkward in social situations, and on and on. This new attention feels strange, but he should probably enjoy the adulation while it lasts. Once everyone gets to know him, it’ll all go back to normal.

Even the other Lan disciples pay more attention to him than usual during the meal, asking him questions and talking to him as if they’re actually interested in what he has to say. They seem to be proud of him, and that’s—that’s just weird.

After the meal they return to the main hall to see that the tables have been organized in rows. Jingyi’s stomach twists a bit: this is where he’s going to struggle. He’s not a great student, has never been good at sitting and listening to his elders speak. He got through many of his classes by meditating, in the end, then copying someone else’s notes later. Shifu eventually gave up on asking him questions in front of the others, apparently realizing it was a lost cause. Jingyi excelled in other areas, though, and it was eventually accepted that he was not going to be a great scholar.

He’s going to have to ask Jia Wanmiao for help. He sighs, preparing himself for a long, boring afternoon.

Before they can take their seats, though, Sandu Shengshou calls them all to come to the front of the room.

“A goal of this conference is to promote inter-sect relations,” he begins, looking around the room at their curious faces. “Each of you will be placed into a group with members from different sects. You’ll work in this group for the entirety of this discussion conference.” He pauses here and glares until the sudden burst of surprised whispering dies down. “Each group will be its own small sect while you’re here. You will work together to ensure everyone’s growth and success. You will eat meals together, practice martial arts together, and even live together.” There’s a gasp at this. “I’ve chosen these groups based on your performance this morning on the field. When I call your names, come forward.”

Jingyi’s heart races as the first set of names is called. He knows the odds of being grouped with A-Yuan aren’t high. They both proved their strengths today. Wouldn’t Sandu Shengshou want to split them up so they can better teach the others?

The first group consists of five girls from different sects. Jia Wanmiao is among them, flushed with excitement as she and her group are shown to their set of tables. Another group is called—Peng Wangshu is in this one, along with Shao Yunyu and three other boys from different sects. Jingyi is spitefully relieved that Peng Wangshu isn’t in a group with A-Yuan. The very idea of it makes something churn in his chest.

“Jin Rulan,” Sandu Shengshou says, followed by, “Wei Sizhui.”

Jingyi holds his breath. Here it is. He’s probably not going to be put in this group, and he’s already processing his disappointment. Another name is called, and Jingyi doesn’t even hear anything other than that it isn’t his own. There’s a long pause then, every second of which feels longer. Jingyi’s disappointment roils in his gut. He’s going to cry, and it’s going to be embarrassing. Everything was going so well, but now, now—

“Lan Jingyi.”

Jingyi gasps. Someone behind him—probably Lan Zhiyi—gives him a little push and he walks forward, over to where A-Yuan is beaming. He can hear other disciples whispering furiously around them, but he doesn’t care. It hits him all at once: he’s going to get to be with A-Yuan for the rest of the conference. They get to be together all the time. It’s more than he could have hoped for.

“—not fair,” someone mutters nearby.

“You have an objection?” Sandu Shengshou’s voice cuts through the muttering of the disciples, like it contains raw power. Everyone nearby shivers as it washes over them.

The disciple who spoke—from the Ezhou sect, by the robes—has gone pale now. He shakes his head and looks down at the floor. “No, Sandu Shengshou. This one apologizes for his thoughtless remark.”

Sandu Shengshou regards him coolly for a moment. “The observant among you will have realized that these groups were chosen according to your level of ability. I expect each group’s members to challenge each other to be better.” He gestures for Jingyi’s group to take their seats, then continues calling up names.

Jingyi is nearly vibrating as they sit at their table. None of them dares to speak, but A-Yuan’s hand finds Jingyi’s under the table and squeezes it tightly. Jingyi looks up at him once he’s managed to calm the pounding of his heart. A-Yuan looks happy, but also somehow, not surprised?

“You should have told him not to worry,” Jin Rulan says once all the groups have been formed and they’ve been assigned the task of getting to know each other.

“We weren’t supposed to know what was going to happen,” A-Yuan says, keeping his voice lowered to a whisper. “It wouldn’t have been fair.”

“You knew?” Jingyi asks, glancing back and forth between them.

Jin Rulan’s smile is smug. “I overheard Jiujiu telling my mom this was his plan. So of course, I confronted him about it and told him I wanted to be in the same group as Yuan-ge. After all, I’m one of the youngest here and I need my older cousin to guide me.”

“He cried, actually,” A-Yuan says. “And threatened not to come if we weren’t in a group together.”

“I only cried a little. For effect.”

“He cried a lot,” A-Yuan tells Jingyi. “Like a five-year-old.”

“Shut up. It worked, didn’t it? And then Yuan-ge said he really wanted to be in a group with you, and we both started in on how the two of you are probably destined to be cultivation partners anyway, so it would make sense for you to be together.”

“Ah.” Jingyi’s ears feel like they’re on fire. Next to him, A-Yuan squirms a little.

“And here we are.” Jin Rulan grins at them, triumphant. “I’m a genius.”

“So… what about me, then?” They turn to look at the fourth boy in their group. He’s dressed in the robes of the Ouyang sect and he looks very confused right now.

Jin Rulan frowns. “Who are you?”

“A-Ling!” A-Yuan gives his shoulder a shove. “Don’t be rude. This is Ouyang Zizhen, the eldest son of the leader of the Ouyang sect. He was also one of the best at hand-to-hand combat this morning, which you would’ve known if you’d been paying attention.”

Jingyi had forgotten his name too, but he’s not going to admit that. “Yeah, Ouyang-xiong was the only one who beat me.”

Ouyang Zizhen smiles and ducks his head a little.

“Ohhhh,” Jin Rulan says, turning to give him a onceover. “We’re both sect heirs. That makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Jingyi asks.

Jin Rulan sits up straighter, managing to look even more haughty than usual. “We’re clearly the top group. Each of us was one of the best at martial arts this morning, for one thing. We’ve got two future sect leaders, and you two”—he gestures at A-Yuan and Jingyi—”are clearly going to be important allies for any sect, regardless of your affiliations.”

Jingyi blinks at him. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that Jiujiu sees the four of us as people who are going to be very important in the future. He obviously wants us to get to know each other well and learn to work together.”

“Wow,” Ouyang Zizhen says, apparently having bought every word of that.

A-Yuan turns to Jingyi and rolls his eyes. Jingyi smirks.

It doesn’t matter why they’re together. The point is that they’re here, and Jingyi is going to enjoy every moment of it.

+++

Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen join A-Yuan and Jin Ling (as he insists they call him now) in the family guest house. It’s in an area of Lotus Pier that would have been inappropriate for Jingyi to enter before, since he’s not a member of the family. It feels much like the first time Hanguang-jun invited him to the Jingshi in Cloud Recesses.

The guest house is simple, elegant, and a good size for the four of them. It appears to be set up so that it can be easily divided into two separate spaces if needed. A-Yuan immediately pulls Jingyi over to a pair of beds on one side of the room, saying, “This is us.”

The two beds are close together, close enough that they’ll be able to talk to each other easily. The beds on the other side of the room are spaced much farther apart, he can’t help noticing. A-Yuan clearly thought about this well in advance.

Jingyi raises his eyebrows. A-Yuan smiles sweetly in response.

“You could have said something. I was freaking out while he was calling out names.”

“I wasn’t completely sure. I didn’t want to say something, then have it not happen.”

That’s… a good point. The disappointment would have been a lot for Jingyi to handle, and A-Yuan knows that.

“He would’ve just moved the beds back,” Jin Ling says. A-Yuan turns toward him and makes a face Jingyi can’t see, but that makes Jin Ling snicker.

Ouyang Zizhen shakes his head in apparent amusement. He seems to be taking this all in stride so far.

Their evening meal is delivered to them in their room. They move outside to the guest house’s porch after, looking out over a peaceful lotus pond in the waning light. Their conversation is fun and easy, and Jingyi already wants to stay here forever. With these people, in this place, just like this. He looks over at A-Yuan: he’s beautiful like this, his face lit up by moonlight. He’s ethereal in a way Jingyi can’t quite explain. A-Yuan looks over at him then, and Jingyi’s stomach does a weird flip when their gazes meet. A-Yuan smiles that soft, secret smile only Jingyi ever sees.

The earlier joking about them being cultivation partners has started Jingyi thinking. Cloud Recesses is his home, but he’s never felt like he completely belongs there. He’s grateful to Hanguang-jun and the Lan elders for the opportunities they’ve given him, and he would gladly serve his sect for the rest of his life.

But still, it’s appealing, this idea that there might be another future for him, one where he isn’t necessarily tied to the Lan sect, but could make his own way with A-Yuan. It had been a distant sort of fantasy before, but what if it could really happen? The idea of it is too joyful, too scary, too full of feeling, so he pushes it down again. Still, maybe these next few weeks will give him a taste of what it would be like to live that life.

A-Yuan tilts his head, a question: What are you thinking so hard about? Jingyi shakes his head in answer: Nothing important. He smiles and looks up at the moon again.

Not having to say good night is the best.

+++

Chapter Text

The next week proceeds unlike Jingyi’s wildest expectations. He’s observed discussion conferences before, and they’d always looked like boring, political affairs. This one is completely different.

They spend their mornings training in martial arts, but with a focus on learning techniques from other sects and blending them with their own. They sometimes divide into small groups, and at other times work as a whole group. Sometimes Jingyi is asked to teach, particularly when swordwork is the focus, and other times he’s very much a student, struggling with new techniques and perspectives. The mornings leave them all physically exhausted, but also energized in new ways.

The afternoons are not filled with lectures, as Jingyi had feared. Instead, Sandu Shengshou briefly introduces questions and issues currently being faced by sects in the surrounding regions, then directs them to work together to find solutions. They discuss ideas, do research in Lotus Pier’s library, share their proposals with other groups, then discuss and refine them. It takes days for them to reach a consensus on the first problem posed, but it goes more quickly as they all come to understand the process. They learn how to listen, how to compromise, and how to critique each other’s ideas. It’s unlike anything Jingyi has experienced before.

A-Yuan emerges as their group’s leader, with his thoughtfulness and ability to break tasks into segments for each person to take on. Jingyi finds himself passionately arguing for his ideas in ways he never had the confidence to before. He also learns that he actually likes researching topics he’s interested in. More than once, he loses track of time in the library while reading through scrolls and has to be fetched for dinner. Jin Ling, whom Jingyi had expected to be the most opinionated one, turns out to be skillful at synthesizing their ideas and research notes into coherent, well-written positions. Ouyang Zizhen is a gifted orator, to their great surprise, and speaks for their group when ideas are being debated. He has the ability to remember details and build consensus in ways that make Jingyi think he’s destined to be a great sect leader.

So okay, maybe Jin Ling had a point at the beginning, when he’d said this group had a lot of potential.

+++

“Sandu Shengshou has been unexpectedly called away on important business,” the head Jiang disciple says from the front of the dining hall. “You may spend the rest of the day as you please.”

The room erupts in excited chatter. The conference has been going for more than a week and this is their first chance to have free time.

“We should go swimming,” Jin Ling says, with the air of one used to having others agree with him. “The lake isn’t that cold yet.”

Ouyang Zizhen nods distractedly—he’s watching a group of girls at the next table.

Jingyi isn’t all that interested in swimming. He looks over at A-Yuan, who’s looking back with an expression that’s both hopeful and a little anxious.

A-Yuan leans in close enough to whisper, “If you want, there’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“Okay,” Jingyi says. He was going to do whatever A-Yuan wanted to do, honestly.

They slip away once everyone else scatters and head out of the main gates of Lotus Pier toward the central marketplace of Yunmeng. A-Yuan hasn’t said where they’re going, and Jingyi hasn’t asked. A-Yuan clearly means it to be some sort of surprise; he’s almost buzzing as they walk along, excited but trying to contain it.

When they reach the market, A-Yuan takes them over to the row of stalls where sweets are sold. When he spots the stall he’s looking for, he tugs Jingyi’s sleeve and heads right over.

The seller is a young woman—a girl, really—with a selection of sweet buns. Her face lights up when she sees A-Yuan.

“Wei-gonzi,” she says with put-upon pout. “You haven’t come to see me in ages.”

A-Yuan laughs. “Forgive me, Guniang. They’ve kept us very busy.”

“You could have come anyway.” Her pout edges back into a smile and she leans across the counter. Her eyelids flutter strangely. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“I could never.”

They pretend-argue a bit more, but Jingyi hears none of it over the buzzing in his brain.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen girls flirt with A-Yuan before. It’s been happening for years—A-Yuan is very good-looking, and girls seem drawn to him. He usually just smiles politely and pretends he doesn’t notice them trying to get his attention.

That is… not what A-Yuan is doing right now, though. Jingyi isn’t the best at picking up on social cues, but even he would characterize A-Yuan’s behavior toward the girl as flirting back. A-Yuan leans in now, smiling, pulls back and laughs, then leans in again. He points at baskets of sweet buns, asking her about them, making an offer that’s ridiculously low. This is followed by her pretending to be offended. It’s a game, and definitely one they’ve played before.

Jingyi’s been flirted with a few times, but his response is usually to stammer awkwardly in response, then flee as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t even know how to do… this.

He doesn’t like this.

A-Yuan says something so quietly that Jingyi can’t make it out. The girl bursts into giggles, then gives him a sly look. Jingyi has no idea what she’s about to say next, but he knows he doesn’t want to hear it.

He steps forward, practically putting himself between them. “How much for one of everything?” Both the girl and A-Yuan turn to look at him, surprised.

“Oh,” she says, and names her price.

“Fine,” Jingyi replies, and pulls out his money pouch to pay her. She hands over the buns, still looking a little stunned. Jingyi hands them all promptly to A-Yuan. “There. Are we done?”

A-Yuan stares at him in surprise for a moment. “Uh… yeah.” He turns to shrug at the girl, who looks baffled, though also happy to have been paid well.

“Come visit me again, Wei-gonzi.” She gives Jingyi a long look. “And bring your rich friend with you.”

A-Yuan glances at Jingyi, then back at her. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”

Jingyi does not say, “Definitely not.” Instead, he keeps his lips admirably sealed and turns to walk on. He hears A-Yuan scramble after him a moment later. A-Yuan tries to walk beside him, but the crowd is dense enough that he keeps having to duck behind Jingyi to avoid colliding with people.

“Hey,” A-Yuan says, then again, “Jingyi!”

Jingyi turns to look at him, and tries very hard to keep his expression blank.

“We’re going the wrong way.”

“Ah.” Jingyi feels his face heat. “Yeah, I should follow you.”

A-Yuan leads them back across the market and toward Lotus Pier again. Jingyi’s still reeling from the whole scene. He’s also now wondering if that was what A-Yuan had wanted to show him—that a girl from the market likes him?

And maybe that he likes her too. Jingyi’s stomach sinks at the thought. If A-Yuan likes a girl then that means he might get married someday, and that would ruin Jingyi’s plan for them to be cultivation partners who travel the world together.

He’s not sure when it stopped being a dream and started being a plan.

Jingyi has another awful realization: what if that was never what A-Yuan wanted? What if A-Yuan dreams of getting married and having children and settling down in a village somewhere and occasionally night hunting to protect his community? What if he asks the market girl to marry him and they go to live in the Burial Mounds with Wei Wuxian? What if—

“Xiao Yi?”

Jingyi realizes A-Yuan has stopped walking. Also that they’ve walked past the entrance of Lotus Pier entirely and are heading into the forest. He glances around, startled, then looks over at A-Yuan.

A-Yuan’s expression is tense. He’s still got an armful of sweet buns clutched to his chest. “Are you mad at me?”

Jingyi hesitates. He is, sort of, but he knows it’s stupid. He just needs time to let it go, that’s all. He’ll get over it.

“You are mad at me,” A-Yuan says, his expression falling.

“No, not—I just.” Jingyi sighs. “Do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“The whole thing.” He waves his hands around nonsensically. “With the girl in the market.”

A-Yuan looks genuinely baffled. “The bargaining thing?”

“Oh, is that what it was?”

“Y—yes?”

Jingyi snorts. “Do you always flirt with the market girls to get a better deal, or just with that girl?”

“Flirt with—what?”

Jingyi laughs in astonishment. “Are you denying it? You two were flirting so shamelessly, the aunties around us started pointing and whispering.”

“I wasn’t flirting. That’s just how she is.”

“Really.” Jingyi crosses his arms over his chest. He’s getting far too worked up over this, and he hates it.

“I’ve known her forever. She’s worked at that stall since she was a kid. We’ve always just—I don’t know.” He sounds genuinely flummoxed.

Jingyi huffs. “Well… it gives the wrong impression. Cultivators shouldn’t go around flirting with girls in the market and making them think—” He should shut up now and let it go. He knows he should.

“Is that a Lan precept? No flirting with girls in markets?”

“So you were flirting with her?”

“Oh, for—I was bartering with her!”

“And smiling and looking like”—he gestures at A-Yuan’s face—“that.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing! You know how good-looking you are, and you’re using it inappropriately. That girl probably thinks you’re interested in her.”

A-Yuan closes his eyes, looking like he’s trying to dredge up patience from the depths of his golden core. “So… you’re mad at me because you think I was flirting with a girl in the market?”

“I’m not mad,” Jingyi groans, even though he’s aware he sounds like he’s very mad. He can’t seem to shake his annoyance over this. “I guess I’ve just never seen you act like that. It was weird.”

“Weird is you paying full price. More than full price, actually.”

Jingyi rolls his eyes. “Why go to all that trouble? Why not just pay her and get on with it?”

A-Yuan huffs. “Have you ever actually had to buy things when you had very little money and hungry people waiting for you at home?”

Fuck. Jingyi feels like an asshole now. He shakes his head.

“I don’t have much money,” A-Yuan says. “You know that.”

“Then I’ll pay.” Jingyi says it without really thinking, but he means it. “If you want something, just tell me.”

A-Yuan blinks. “Xiao Yi, I don’t—”

“Hanguang-jun gave me extra money,” Jingyi adds, “so he probably meant for half of it to be spent by you.”

A-Yuan looks away, his expression hard to read as he carefully tucks the buns into his sleeve. “All right,” he says at last. “But I wasn’t trying to flirt with her. I don’t like her that way.”

“Good,” Jingyi says, and immediately grimaces: why can’t he just keep his mouth shut?

When he looks up again, A-Yuan is watching him closely.

Jingyi looks away, suddenly feeling awkward. He’s not used to this, to not knowing where he stands with A-Yuan. It’s always been just the two of them when they were together. They never paid attention to anyone else. But things have been shifting between them recently, and Jingyi doesn’t know what to do about that.

“C’mon,” A-Yuan says, turning toward the road again.

They walk in silence for a bit.

“So… you think I’m so good-looking I can use it to my advantage?” A-Yuan’s tone is light, teasing.

Jingyi groans. “You know what you look like.”

“Sure, but you think so?” He bumps Jingyi’s shoulder playfully.

“I didn’t—I mean—yes, but I don’t think you’d really do that intentionally. I know you’re not—like that.”

“Okay. I’m glad you think so.” There’s a touch of smugness in A-Yuan’s tone.

Jingyi really wishes he’d never brought the subject up. “So where are we going, anyway?”

A-Yuan stops, and looks up and down the road, then scans the edge closely. “Here.” He gestures toward the forest.

“Where?”

A-Yuan takes Jingyi’s elbow and tugs, pulling them both off the road and… onto a footpath. Jingyi stares around him in astonishment. It wasn’t there before, but now it winds through the trees ahead of them.

Jingyi turns to look back at the road. “Some kind of talisman?”

“Yeah, one of Ba’s. It’s clever, isn’t it? You have to know the path is here, then you have to step through at the right place.”

The path isn’t wide enough for the two of them, so Jingyi follows A-Yuan as they walk deeper into the forest. After a while, they come upon a clearing. A-Yuan stops, looks back over his shoulder at Jingyi, then takes several large steps forward. He turns back and gives Jingyi a speculative look.

Jingyi frowns, then walks forward to meet him. He feels the ward the moment it touches his skin: it’s warm, even welcoming. It feels familiar as he steps through it.

In front of him now is a small village. Houses are built along the perimeter of a large spread of agricultural fields. People working in the fields pause and wave at the two of them as they head toward a cluster of houses on the far side.

“I knew it would still work,” A-Yuan says, his expression almost triumphant.

“What would still work?”

“The protection spell I cast on you years ago. That day by the hideout in the Burial Mounds. Remember?”

Jingyi looks out to the village again, and realizes he recognizes these people. He turns to A-Yuan. “Your family? But what are they doing here?”

“This is where they live now,” A-Yuan says, smiling as he looks around. “They live under the protection of the Jiang sect. It was part of the marriage agreement.”

Jingyi recalls A-Yuan talking about the unusually long marriage negotiations between Wen Qing and Sandu Shengshou, but he hadn’t really paid attention to the details.

The village and the fields look well-established. Talismans hang from strings over rows of crops, probably helping the process along greatly. Still, it’s been a year and a half since Jingyi last visited the Burial Mounds, and he’d had no idea.

“So it’s a secret, then?”

“More or less. Shufu had the village built, and we moved everyone almost a year ago. Slowly, at night—it was very exciting. Hanguang-jun helped.”

“Oh, right.” There had been a time about a year ago when Hanguang-jun had quietly left for a couple of weeks. Jingyi had wondered at the time where he’d gone, but no one had seemed to know. Jingyi frowns at the memory: he could’ve helped, couldn’t he?

They reach the cluster of houses at last and are set upon by an excited group of children. Jingyi remembers them all, though they’ve grown quite a bit since he last saw them. A few of the smaller ones insist on being picked up and carried, at least until A-Yuan begins pulling the sweet buns from his sleeves and distributing them.

“So is this where you live now?” Jingyi asks once the buns have been eaten and the children sent back to their schoolwork.

A-Yuan shakes his head. “Ba doesn’t want to leave the Burial Mounds, and he can’t stay there alone. It’s just him and me most of the time.”

“Why doesn’t he want to leave?” Jingyi’s been there enough times to understand why no one would really want to stay if they didn’t have to.

A-Yuan sighs. “Shufu wants him to live at Lotus Pier, but Hanguang-jun wants him to go to Cloud Recesses and— Well, Ba is stubborn and doesn’t want to disappoint either of them. He says his presence at either place would sully their reputation, so he will stay on his stupid mountain in exile.” A-Yuan rolls his eyes at this. “It’s been 13 years since the war. People have moved on.”

“What do you think he should do?”

“Honestly? I think he should marry Hanguang-jun and they should split their time between the two sects. Problem solved.”

“Could they do that? Get married?”

“Sure.” A-Yuan says it like it’s no big deal, but Jingyi doesn’t know any married couples that are two men. “That’s what Hanguang-jun says, anyway.”

Jingyi’s mind spins. Until this moment, he’s never even thought of that possibility.

“C’mon,” A-Yuan says, and leads him to a small house.

It’s quiet inside and a little dusty. It’s not much: a couple of beds, a table, a straw mat on the floor, and a desk with a chair.

“This is our house. Well, it’s where Ba and I sleep when we come here.” He crosses to sit on one of the beds.

Jingyi follows and sits next to him, feeling strange and unsettled. This is so much new information to take in at once. “Where would you go, if your father left the Burial Mounds?”

“With him, probably. But if he and Hanguang-jun get married—” He trails off, looks down at his hands. “If he didn’t need me all the time, I’d probably go to the Jiang sect. I spend a lot of time training there already.” He shrugs. “I suppose I could stay here in the village, maybe cultivate on my own, but—”

“We could be cultivation partners, for real,” Jingyi says, his voice soft. “Even if we were based in different sects.”

A-Yuan has gone very still and quiet next to Jingyi.

“We’ll be adults soon, and we could work together, night hunt together, travel whenever we wanted.” He looks up to see A-Yuan watching him with a soft, sweet expression. “I mean, if you want.”

“Really?” A-Yuan says, his voice so soft Jingyi almost doesn’t hear it. “You’d want that?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re a Lan. And I’m—”

“My zhiji.” Jingyi reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind A-Yuan’s ear. That ear goes pink at his touch.

They stare at each other for a long moment. Jingyi feels a strange urge to reach for A-Yuan, to wrap his arms around him and pull him tightly against his chest, to press their foreheads together, to be close somehow, closer than they are now. A-Yuan sways toward him a little, like he feels it too.

There’s a sudden knock on the door, startling them both. It opens to reveal Wen Ning. He blinks at the two of them, then looks away, as if embarrassed.

Jingyi leaps to his feet and bows properly, saying, “Wen qianbei.”

Wen Ning looks even more embarrassed at having been addressed properly. “Lan-gonzi, A-Yuan. The children said you were here. I thought I’d invite you to have tea. I’m sorry if I… interrupted…” His gaze darts back and forth between them.

A-Yuan takes three steps forward and hugs him, grinning. “Tea would be fantastic. Thank you.”

They follow him to a small pavilion where the older villagers are gathered. Many are mending and sewing, while others grind millet. Popo is knitting what seems to be a garment of some sort. She beams at them and beckons them closer. Jingyi and A-Yuan greet her, let her fawn over them, then greet the others too. Once everyone has pinched their cheeks and made declarations about how handsome they both are, they sit at a small table while Wen Ning prepares a pot of tea.

A-Yuan looks happy here, relaxed and radiant in a way Jingyi can’t help staring at. A-Yuan catches his gaze and smiles, and it’s that wry, cute smile that only Jingyi gets to see. Well, he’s a little less sure of that now than he was a few weeks ago, but still.

They head back when the sun begins to sink low in the sky. They’re both quiet for most of the walk. Jingyi is lost in thought, still mulling over everything he learned today.

“Don’t tell anyone about the village,” A-Yuan says as the walls of Lotus Pier come into view in the distance. “Not even A-Ling knows.”

“I promise,” Jingyi says, suddenly overwhelmed with the idea that he’s been trusted with this—him and no one else. He takes A-Yuan’s hand in his and squeezes it.

A-Yuan smiles and squeezes back, and doesn’t let go until they reach the edge of Lotus Pier.

+++

“No, hold it like—” Jingyi frowns and steps forward. He rearranges the positions of Yu Fangxin’s fingers on the hilt of her sword. “Try again.”

She swings the sword up, then down at an angle, slicing audibly through the air this time. She looks up at Jingyi with an expression of surprise. “Oh!”

“Better, right?”

She nods, ducking her head a little. “Thank you, Lan-xiong. I’ll practice hard, I promise.” She looks up at him again, her expression hopeful. “Um—I was wondering—”

“My turn,” Jin Yuexin says, stepping forward to put herself between them. Yu Fangxin huffs in annoyance, but steps aside. Jin Yuexin smirks at her, then turns a wide smile to Jingyi. “Please, Lan-xiong, watch my form and tell me what I need to do to improve.”

Jingyi keeps his expression neutral, but he’s really ready for this session to be over. He glances across the courtyard to where A-Yuan is currently working with Peng Wangshu. Jingyi privately thinks Peng Wangshu should focus on improving his hand-to-hand combat skills—he’s already fairly good with a sword—but he seeks out A-Yuan every time they do these open martial arts sessions.

“Lan-xiong, you’re not watching!”

As do these two girls. Sometimes there’s a third girl with them, but she’s apparently decided to work on archery today. Jin Ling is taking a lot more interest in her form than Jingyi had, so it’s probably for the best.

Jingyi turns back with a tight smile, and tries to find some advice to give that he hasn’t already given several times. He’s starting to suspect they’re not actually trying very hard.

At last a bell rings to signal the end of the session. Jingyi gives the girls a quick bow and turns away.

“Lan-xiong, wait!”

He sighs and turns back, smoothing out his expression. “Yes?”

Yu Fangxin looks strangely nervous. “I was wondering—”

“We,” Jin Yuexin interjects, elbowing her.

“Yes, we were wondering if you would like to sit with us during the mid-day meal?”

“We have some questions to ask you,” Jin Yuexin adds, smiling sweetly. “You’re so skilled, and we’re sure we can learn a lot from you.”

They both look at him with hopeful expressions.

Jingyi does not want to sit with them, at a meal or otherwise. He wants to get away from them as quickly as possible, in fact. He tries to think of a way to say that without being rude.

“I can’t,” he says, and looks over his shoulder. A-Yuan is still trying to shake Peng Wangshu, who seems determined to keep talking to him. “My group isn’t prepared for the afternoon discussion, and we have to use that time to work on it.” It’s a lie, but he’s not at Cloud Recesses, so it doesn’t count.

“Just for a little while,” Jin Yuexin says, stepping closer to him. “We know you’re busy.” She tilts her head and smiles in a way that must usually get her what she wants. “Please, Lan-xiong?”

“Um—” Jingyi takes a step back. Why does she have to stand so close?

“Hey,” he hears, and A-Yuan’s hand touches the center of Jingyi’s back. Jingyi’s shoulders relax almost immediately.

“Wei-gonzi,” both girls say, and bow in greeting. A-Yuan returns it.

“You could join us too, if you like,” Jin Yuexin says.

“For the meal,” Yu Fangxin adds. She tries to smile as sweetly as Jin Yuexin, but it looks forced on her face. “We invited Lan-gonzi to join us.”

“I already told them we have work to do,” Jingyi says.

“So we do.” A-Yuan smiles coolly at the girls. It’s the sort of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint.”

The girls exchange a glance, then take a step backward.

“Of course.” Yu Fangxin tugs at Jin Yuexin’s sleeve. “Thank you for your help, Lan-xiong.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jin Yuexin says, returning A-Yuan’s cool smile.

Jingyi is definitely missing something here. It’s fine though, because the girls walk away, whispering to each other, and he doesn’t have to make small talk with them anymore. A-Yuan’s hand is still on his back, and he leans into the touch.

“That was weird,” Jingyi says.

“C’mon,” A-Yuan replies, and steers him toward the dining hall.

“I don’t understand why it’s always them,” Jingyi tells the others over their meal. “They both need to be working on other skills, but every time, they come right over to me. They never even get any better. It’s like they don’t actually want to improve.”

“Oh, come on, it’s obvious,” Jin Ling says with a snort. “They like you.”

“Lots of people like me, but they don’t act like that.”

“No, idiot.” Jin Ling leans across the table. “They like you.”

“They—oh.” Jingyi feels heat flood his face. “Really? But—why would they like me? They don’t even know me.”

“For the same reason he”—Jin Ling tilts his head toward Zizhen—“keeps asking Jia Wanmiao to help him with archery and uses bad form on purpose so she’ll have to put her arms around him to fix it.”

Zizhen nearly chokes on his tea. “I don’t—I—that’s not—”

“And why Peng Wangshu keeps asking Yuan-ge to show him how to handle a sword.” Jin Ling raises his eyebrows at A-Yuan, whose ears go a startling shade of red.

Jingyi is momentarily thrown by that one. Peng Wangshu likes A-Yuan? Like that? Jingyi’s had a weird feeling every time he’s seen the two of them together, but he’d never been able to place why he found Peng Wangshu so annoying.

Wait, does A-Yuan know? Does he like Peng Wangshu too, or has he just been nice about it? A strange sort of panic rises in Jingyi’s throat.

“Of course girls are going to like you,” Jin Ling continues. “You’re a strong cultivator from a prominent sect. You’re Hanguang-jun’s chosen apprentice. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re really good-looking.”

“Wait—what?” Jingyi wrenches his thoughts away from Peng Wangshu’s now-obvious pursuit of A-Yuan. “No I’m not.”

They all look surprised.

“Yes you are,” Jin Ling says, with the tone that clearly communicates duh. “Everyone thinks so. Yuan-ge definitely thinks so.”

He smirks at A-Yuan, who makes a small, strangled sound and looks even more embarrassed.

“I don’t—” Jingyi presses his lips together to shut himself up for a moment. He breathes. “The point is that it’s all inappropriate. This is a discussion conference, not a—a matchmaking event.”

“Where have you been for the last few weeks?” Jin Ling looks incredulous. “Everyone’s trying to pair off with someone. The girls have the advantage because there’s fewer of them.”

“It’s so unfair,” Zizhen says. “You had two girls chasing you for the last week and you didn’t even notice.”

Jingyi groans and presses his hands over his face. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

He’s been so wrapped up in spending time with A-Yuan that it hadn’t occurred to him that the girls might be interested in him beyond what he could teach them. For most of his life he’s been underestimated and overlooked by his peers. The idea that he’s the center of their attention now, and for that reason, is unsettling.

Jin Ling shrugs. “Eh, just tell them you’re not interested and they’ll move on to someone else.”

Jingyi looks over at A-Yuan, who seems to have recovered from his earlier embarrassment. He thinks back to A-Yuan’s reaction to the girls earlier, to the way he’d all but chased them away when he saw how uncomfortable Jingyi was. Jingyi bumps his knee in thanks under the table. A-Yuan presses back.

“Still, it’s probably getting out of hand,” Jin Ling continues, poking at the food in the bowl in front of him. “Jiujiu’s going to have to do something before anything scandalous happens.”

“I hope he doesn’t try to separate us.” Zizhen frowns. “I don’t know about you, but my father is already trying to find me a wife. If I don’t go home with the names of some girls to give him, he’ll have me engaged to someone I’ve never met.”

“But you’re only 16,” Jingyi says, shocked.

“That’s nothing,” Jin Ling says. “My parents were betrothed when they were babies. I guess it was really dramatic. Ma says she doesn’t want that for me, that she wants me to marry who I want and that there’s no hurry.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got siblings. I’m an only child and my father wants heirs.” Zizhen pushes his bowl away as if his appetite is gone. He looks across the table at Jingyi and A-Yuan. “You two are lucky you’re not in line to lead a sect. You can marry whoever you want.”

A-Yuan leans against Jingyi’s shoulder. “Who says we’d want to marry anyone? We’re gonna be cultivation partners and travel together.” He smiles at Jingyi, and Jingyi feels a shiver deep down in his belly.

“I want to marry a cultivator,” Zizhen says, his voice going dreamy now. “Someone who can fight alongside me and who’s a great archer, like better than me so we balance each other out.”

“Don’t you want a girl who knows how to handle a sword?” Jin Ling says, grinning.

“A-Ling!” A-Yuan says, feigning shock through his laughter. “When did you get such a dirty mind?”

“Ages ago. If you paid attention to anyone other than Jingyi, you’d have noticed.”

A-Yuan’s ears go red again. Jingyi ducks his head to hide his smile. Take that, Peng Wangshu.

“I think I could help her figure that part out,” Zizhen says, elbowing Jin Ling. They dissolve into giggles.

Jingyi starts to laugh with them, then remembers who Zizhen was flirting with earlier. “Hey, watch it. That’s my shimei you’re talking about.” He tries to look menacing. They ignore him.

The jokes only get dirtier from there. Jingyi hopes no one near them is listening very hard.

+++

Sandu Shengshou does change up how the mornings are structured, so Jingyi doesn’t have to face any more giggling girls directly. He starts noticing all the appreciative looks he gets, though. He hadn’t paid attention before, but it’s obvious now. When he passes by, people look at him in ways that are definitely appraising and frequently unnerving. Sometimes the girls whisper to the person next to them and giggle. It’s enough to make him paranoid.

He’s just never really thought much about the way he looks? He’s always been awkward and gangly. No one ever told him he was cute as a kid—no one who wasn’t obligated to, anyway—so the idea that, now that he’s grown into his features, he’s suddenly considered attractive is just weird. It feels artificial, put-upon. None of these people would like him if they really knew him. No one ever does.

Except for A-Yuan, of course. And Jin Ling and Zizhen—his friends. This is the first time in his life that he’s had a real group of friends, people he can rely on to be there and to like and support him. All the time, too, not just every once in a while. It’s amazing, and he’s already dreading this time coming to an end. He’s been trying not to think about it, but the end is coming all the same.

Everyone adjusts to the new morning schedule with a minimum of complaining. The afternoon sessions change too: guest cultivators are invited to spend a few days teaching the students a special skill or martial art they specialize in. There are some long lectures that Jingyi struggles through, but A-Yuan is there to poke him when he gets visibly distracted and to fill him in on what he missed after the fact.

A-Yuan is good at this part: he’s an attentive student, soaks up everything quickly, and is able to apply new ideas almost immediately. Their entire group sticks close to him, watching him try out new techniques and then asking for his guidance. A-Yuan is in his element teaching others, and he’s usually in high demand when the students are turned loose to practice. Jingyi’s glad to have some of the recent attention off of himself, but even better is watching the way A-Yuan glows with excitement when he helps others.

Sometimes Jingyi gets lost in watching him, in the flow of his movements and the attention he pays to detail. Jin Ling has to elbow him hard in the side a few times when he really gets distracted. He and Zizhen both seem to find Jingyi’s drifting attention amusing. As long as they don’t find it annoying, Jingyi doesn’t mind.

The days pass even faster with everything new they’re learning. It’s amazing and exhausting, but they’re rapidly approaching the end of the conference. Autumn has finally settled into Yunmeng with markedly cooler weather, bringing chilly mornings and nights that require an extra blanket.

Even that isn’t enough on one night when the temperature dips low enough that the basin of washing water in their room starts to freeze. Jingyi shivers under his own blankets until he’s certain the others are asleep, then gives in to the temptation to climb into A-Yuan’s bed.

“Hey,” he says, then slides under the covers to curl around him and soak up his warmth like they did when they were little. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” A-Yuan says, sleepy, and pulls Jingyi’s arm over his chest.

Jingyi presses his nose into A-Yuan’s hair and inhales, and sleeps better than he has in weeks. They sleep together every night after that. Jin Ling and Zizhen give them strange looks the first few mornings, but don’t say anything. Maybe it’s weird, but Jingyi and A-Yuan have always been like this. They’re best friends, soulmates even, and Jingyi is determined to enjoy every moment he can.

***

A few days later, they spend a chilly morning practicing sword forms in the main courtyard. The sun finally rises high enough to bring warmth to the space, and everyone’s energy picks up in response. All around the courtyard, senior Jiang disciples are leading groups through a series of exercises. They’re organized by ability level, but even so they’re having a hard time challenging Jingyi and A-Yuan.

“What if I do it all upside-down?” Jingyi suggests, laughing.

Everyone looks at him strangely as he strips off his outer robes, puts the ends of his forehead ribbon between his teeth, and moves into a handstand. When he balances his weight on one hand and holds a sword in the other, they all burst into delighted laughter. He spars with each person in the group, and does surprisingly well. They all go a bit easy on him, but the senior Jiang disciple looks excited after, clearly dreaming up some new training regimens.

“Now we’re all going to have to learn how to do handstands,” Jin Ling says with a groan.

Jingyi grins at him and refastens his outer robe. “It’ll be good for you. All that upper body strength would make you an even better archer, you know.”

There’s a hand around his bicep then, squeezing lightly. He turns to see A-Yuan looking a bit dazed.

“What?”

A-Yuan drops his hand quickly, his expression suddenly sheepish. “Nothing. I just didn’t know you were that strong.”

Before Jingyi can think of a reply to that, there’s a commotion on the other side of the courtyard.

A-Yuan’s face lights up. He dashes over to the entrance to the courtyard, where Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun are standing, flanked by Sandu Shengshou and Jiang furen. If A-Yuan knew they were coming, he certainly hadn’t said a word to Jingyi about it.

“Da-jiu!” Jin Ling says, and heads over to greet them too.

All eyes in the courtyard are on the newcomers now. Jingyi follows the others to greet them, and catches whispers of Yiling Laozu and it’s really him along the way.

A-Yuan throws his arms around his father with a delighted laugh. They have a quick conversation, which Jingyi only catches the end of before A-Yuan turns and hugs Hanguang-jun as well.

There is a gasp to Jingyi’s left: the other Lan disciples, who’ve come over to formally greet their senior, are all gaping at the sight of Hanguang-jun hugging someone. Jingyi imagines it was shocking to him once too, though he barely remembers it.

Jin Ling steps up to hug Wei Wuxian, laughing against his uncle’s shoulder, and then it’s Jingyi’s turn. Wei Wuxian hugs exactly like A-Yuan does, pulling Jingyi in tight against his chest. He steps back after and holds Jingyi at arm’s length, looking him over.

“My second-favorite Lan! You’ve grown again, haven’t you? Aiyo, poor A-Yuan will never catch up now.”

Jingyi ducks his head. “Wei-qianbei, it’s good to see you.”

Wei Wuxian pinches his cheek like he did when Jingyi was little. “Have you been taking good care of my little radish for me?”

Jingyi feels his ears heat at that, and Wei Wuxian laughs.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The Jiang disciples surround them suddenly, anxious for their turn to greet Wei Wuxian, so Jingyi steps to the side and turns to Hanguang-jun. Jingyi’s standing way too close to bow properly, but just as he goes to step back, Hanguang-jun reaches out and put a big hand on his shoulder. He gives Jingyi’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze and—Jingyi will revisit this moment in his mind many times in the future—he smiles at Jingyi. Or, it’s as much of a smile as Jingyi has ever seen on his face and directed at him.

Jingyi flushes with a mix of pride and surprise. Hanguang-jun has always been kind to him, but never particularly affectionate. Not that any of the Lans are, but Jingyi still doesn’t know how to react other than to bow his head and say, “Hanguang-jun,” with as much reverence as he can muster.

A-Yuan draws Jingyi aside so that the other, slightly gobsmacked Lan disciples can bow and formally greet Hanguang-jun. They all stare at Jingyi with wonder, as if they don’t know how to make sense of what they’ve just seen.

Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian keep giving each other small smiles, their eyes bright when they look at each other.

“They both look happy,” Jingyi whispers to A-Yuan. “Like, really happy.”

“They do.” A-Yuan sighs and loops an arm through Jingyi’s. “I think that’s a good sign.”

“Sign of what?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Wei Wuxian, it turns out, is their guest instructor for the next couple of days. That announcement is met with a wide variety of reactions from the gathered disciples, who immediately begin to speculate about what it might mean.

His appearance alongside Hanguang-jun and Sandu Shengshou was not an accident, A-Yuan tells them over their mid-day meal. Sandu Shengshou in particular has been working to rehabilitate Wei Wuxian’s image over the last few years in hopes of convincing him to rejoin the Jiang sect. Having him make an appearance at this discussion conference was a way to show his acceptance by several major sects. Even A-Yuan dramatic entrance at the start of the conference was part of the plan.

“Now he just has to win over the disciples from the other sects,” Jin Ling says, “and word will spread.”

“So would that mean you’d officially join the Jiang sect too?” Jingyi asks.

“Who knows?” A-Yuan sighs heavily. “Hanguang-jun wouldn’t be very happy if we did. He still wants Ba to marry him and live in Cloud Recesses, and he’d probably expect me to come too.”

Jingyi tries very hard not to let his hope for that outcome show on his face.

“Wait, married?” Zizhen says, his voice lowered to a harsh whisper. He looks at the other three of them and seems to realize he was the only one who didn’t know this. “So Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian are—a couple? Like that?”

“Yes.” Jin Ling pats his hand comfortingly.

Zizhen’s eyes go sparkly at this. “They’re having a secret love affair?”

“They’ve been together for as long as I can remember,” A-Yuan says.

“My mother says they first met when they were 15, in Cloud Recesses.” Jin Ling puffs up a bit—he always enjoys knowing something someone else doesn’t. “And they didn’t get along at first. Da-jiu drove Hanguang-jun crazy breaking all kinds of rules. But by the end of the summer, Hanguang-jun was totally in love with him.”

“And they’ve been together ever since?” Zizhen rests his chin on his hand. His expression has gone a bit dreamy.

“No, not until after the war,” A-Yuan says. “After Ba had brought my family to the Burial Mounds, where we were hiding from the Jins—

Jin Ling huffs in protest. “That was my horrible grandfather. My dad was completely against it, for the record.”

A-Yuan ignores him, pointedly. “One day Ba took me to Yiling and we ran into Hanguang-jun there. Apparently I latched onto him in the market and wouldn’t let go. I was 3, maybe? And so he came back to the Burial Mounds with us and stayed for a month. I think that’s when they actually got together. Of course, the whole cultivation world was trying to kill Ba at the time, so Hanguang-jun eventually had to go back and show everyone he hadn’t been captured by the evil Yiling Laozu. But they met whenever they could after that.”

“And they kept it a secret, because it was a forbidden romance.” Zizhen sighs. “The most reviled cultivator in the world and one of the most revered, secretly in love! People would go crazy for that kind of story. Wait, is it still a secret?”

“They don’t seem to be hiding it right now,” A-Yuan says. “They kept it a secret for so long, though. I think Jingyi was the first person outside of the Burial Mounds who knew.”

Jingyi flushes with pride at this. He’d kept the secret Hanguang-jun asked him to keep, until now.

“Then Ba told his shidi and shijie, and gradually more people knew. After this, I think everyone will know.” A-Yuan pauses. “I guess I’m glad, but it’s hard not to be worried.”

“So that’s why Sandu Shengshou invited him here,” Zizhen says, looking thoughtful. “Everyone will see that he’s not the evil dark cultivator they thought he was. Or at least, everyone here will be able to tell that to others.”

“That’s the idea,” Jin Ling says. He turns to Jingyi and frowns. “I can’t believe you knew before I did.”

Jingyi shrugs. “You were probably too little to understand at the time.”

Jin Ling looks genuinely offended.

“But what will he teach us?” Zizhen asks, his expression wary. “You know what everyone’s saying, right?”

“That he’ll show everyone how to use resentful energy to raise an army of the dead?” A-Yuan says, waving his fingers dramatically. “He won’t even teach me that. He says it’s a secret that dies with him, that he’s seen how easily it can be misused by those with bad intentions.”

“He’s never taught you any of it?” Zizhen looks skeptical.

A-Yuan’s expression shifts to something ever-so-slightly closed off. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there, but he made me swear I’d never do what he does.” He glances over at Jingyi. “I’ve seen what it does to him enough that I don’t want to.”

Jingyi nods in support, though he knows the truth is actually a lot more complicated than that. There had been whispers from some of the disciples from the smaller sects, when they first learned who A-Yuan was. He’d been a subject of great scrutiny for the first week or so, though he’d just ignored it all and shown himself to be a model cultivator. That, combined with the way the Jiang disciples went out of their way to praise and defend him, eventually put a stop to the gossip.

What Wei Wuxian is there to teach them, it turns out, is how to invent their own talismans.

He begins with an engaging and frankly hilarious demonstration of a series of talismans that range from useful to annoying, using them all on volunteers from the Jiang sect. There are talismans that instantly pin a person to the nearest surface (the floor, the wall, a table, and once, hilariously, the ceiling), talismans that attract every insect in the vicinity (this one is demonstrated outside, of course), and even one talisman that causes a volunteer to become instantly soaking wet. Most of them are harmless, but he talks through the ways one can slightly alter talismans to strengthen or redirect their effects. He goes over the basics of the theory, then sets the students loose to start inventing from a set of standard talismans he hands out.

“Nothing harmful today,” he warns them. “Test it on an inanimate object first. You’re going for pranks here, nothing more.”

There is some struggling at first as many have to test several versions before something works, but within the hour the room is filled with laughter and shouts of surprise.

Jingyi works on a confusion talisman, something he imagines will completely misdirect the attention of an enemy and give several minutes of advantage to whoever uses it. He convinces A-Yuan to be his subject—A-Yuan is difficult to distract as a rule, so if it works on him, Jingyi will feel fairly confident. A-Yuan’s working on his own talisman to hide things in plain sight. They’re both starting from the same basic distraction talisman, so they end up working together closely.

Jingyi’s nearly ready to test the next version when there’s suddenly a rustle of paper above him as someone activates a talisman right over his head. A moment later, paper flowers are raining down on him, two and three at a time. The moment they hit him they disappear, then new ones fall from above. He looks around and spots Yu Fangxin and Jin Yuexin standing not far away, grinning at him. Yu Fangxin gives him a little wave and a wink. He gives them both an annoyed look in return and tries to swat the flowers away, but the little paper blooms evade every attempt to shake them.

Other disciples are looking over and giggling now as flowers rain down on his head. The meaning of it isn’t lost on Jingyi. He hasn’t talked to either of the girls in days. He’d thought that maybe ignoring them would get the message across, but apparently not. He sighs and turns back to his own work, determined to ignore the flowers until they go away.

Next to him, A-Yuan huffs in frustration, then waves a hand. The wave of energy Jingyi feels coming from him is intense, even angry. He looks up in time to see a dark expression on A-Yuan’s face, just as he snaps his fingers. The flowers raining down burst into flames, burning up in a flash. The ashes fall down around Jingyi, and then it stops. There’s a wave of hushed whispers around them as A-Yuan glares over at the girls, who both look startled. Jingyi looks back at A-Yuan’s face, at the set of his jaw, at the slightest, barely-there flicker of red in his eyes, and feels something stir deep in his body.

Oh. Wow.

The clarity that washes over him is overwhelming, an intense swirl of thoughts and emotions, all of it suddenly making perfect sense. The twinge in his belly when A-Yuan does something powerful, the way tingles travel up Jingyi’s spine when A-Yuan is protective—no, possessive—isn’t just excitement at a friend’s support. The deep affection Jingyi feels when he sees A-Yuan, whether he’s smiling or scowling or worried or sad, isn’t just fondness for a friend.

He recognizes the feeling now. A-Yuan using powerful magic has always been fascinating for him, but recently its effects have become more… physical. It turns him on.

He’s not sure what to do with that feeling, now that he’s named it. Is it appropriate? Is it something he should feel guilty about? Should he let himself think about how much he wants to pull A-Yuan against him right now, while he looks so fierce, and—kiss him? He can’t stop himself from imagining it, and then his mind fills with other images too, ones he’s seen in dreams but hasn’t let himself dwell on while awake. He clamps down on that as quickly as he can—not here, not now. He’s already probably embarrassed himself enough.

He forces his attention back to the moment, not sure how long he’s been sitting here having a minor crisis. A-Yuan is staring at him with trepidation. Jingyi has no idea what his face is doing right now. Does he look upset? Confused? Terrified? He has no idea. He tries to make his face look as blank as possible.

It does not have the intended effect. A-Yuan looks away, clearly troubled, and Jingyi feels an impulse of panic that he’s screwed this up somehow. Jingyi can’t bear the thought of that, not when all of this is coursing through him like a revelation.

He likes A-Yuan. He likes likes him, and probably has for a long time. He has no idea how A-Yuan feels about him in return.

“Sorry,” A-Yuan says softly, staring down at the table.

Jingyi leans in close, puts a hand on A-Yuan’s shoulder. “Don’t be. Thank you.”

A-Yuan turns toward him, surprised, and they’re so close together, so damn close Jingyi can feel A-Yuan’s breath against his lips. It’s overwhelming all over again. He could just lean in, press their mouths together. It would be so easy.

“Okay,” A-Yuan says, his voice soft, his eyes dark and wide.

They stare at each other.

Across the table, Jin Ling clears his throat and Jingyi blinks, pulls away. He’d forgotten they weren’t alone, that probably the whole room is staring at them right now. Fuck, he couldn’t be any more obvious if he tried.

He can’t even look at A-Yuan right now; it’s too much. The reality of the situation is only just edging in. He likes his best friend. He wants his best friend. He has no idea what to do about that.

“Who wants to test mine?” Jin Ling says brightly. “Yuan-ge, you look like you could use this.” He sticks a talisman to A-Yuan’s back and A-Yuan yelps almost immediately.

“What the fuck?” he hisses, and reaches around to pull it off. “That was cold!”

“Still too cold?” Jin Ling takes it back from him. “Hmmm. Maybe if I made this mark a little shorter, it would be perfect.”

“What’s it do?” Zizhen asks.

“Cools you down when you’re too hot,” Jin Ling says, his tone overly innocent. Zizhen snickers.

A-Yuan groans and rests his forehead on the table. Jingyi reaches out, intending to rub a soothing hand on his back, but stops himself. He touches A-Yuan like this all the time, but now he knows what it means, that his intentions aren’t just friendly. It doesn’t feel right to take advantage of A-Yuan’s easy acceptance of physical affection. As much as it pains him to do it, he makes himself scoot a little farther down the bench, putting some space between them, and turns back to his talisman. Next to him, A-Yuan sighs.

For the rest of the day, Jingyi second-guesses every interaction with A-Yuan. He hadn’t realized how frequently they touch each other, how often they stand or sit close together, or all the little things they do for each other without even thinking about it.

Jingyi is definitely thinking about it now.

He manages to make it through the rest of the day without flinching at every small touch, but his sudden self-consciousness definitely affects things between them. A-Yuan keeps giving him looks of concern, ones Jingyi can only respond to with even more awkwardness, which then worries A-Yuan even more. Jingyi knows it’s his fault, that’s it’s his own problem, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. They’re busy until it’s time for bed, and he doesn’t have a chance to talk to A-Yuan privately. He doesn’t even know what he would say.

What if A-Yuan isn’t interested in him like that? Why would he be? He’ll probably just let Jingyi down gently, and they’ll find their way back to being best friends. Jingyi’s not sure he can handle that just yet. He’d been dreading the end of this discussion conference, but now it’s starting to seem like it might be a good thing. Maybe they’ll need a break from each other, some time to figure out how to move forward.

No, Jingyi can’t tell him yet. He’s going to have to ignore it, pretend everything is fine just a little longer. They can have a few more days of fun, and before the end, Jingyi will tell him and A-Yuan will let him down gently, and Jingyi will have time to get over it before they see each other again in a month or so.

A-Yuan is sitting on the bed in just his inner garments when Jingyi comes in to get ready for bed. Across the room, Jin Ling gives them both a long look before shaking his head and turning away. A-Yuan sits quietly, watching Jingyi take off his outer robes, and shit—how can Jingyi sleep next to him now, knowing this? It feels like he’s taking advantage. He’s going to have to come up with a reason to sleep in his own bed for the first time in a week. His mind spins the whole time he’s undressing.

“Xiao Yi?”

Jingyi turns to see A-Yuan biting his lip. He looks nervous and hopeful, all at once.

“Hmm?”

“Hurry up. I’m getting cold.” He slides under the blanket and scoots over, leaving room for Jingyi.

Jingyi is a weak, weak boy and a terrible person with absolutely no self-control. His forehead ribbon might as well be a decoration at this point.

Fuck it.

He nods and climbs into bed next to him, and tries to push away all thoughts of what a horrible person he is. He turns his back to A-Yuan. A-Yuan wraps himself around Jingyi, one arm across his chest, and just like that, Jingyi is half-hard. He closes his eyes and tries to will that physical reaction away. He’s sure he’s heard some of the other disciples talking about meditation techniques for getting rid of inappropriate erections. He just can’t remember any of them.

He’s never needed it before. He’d honestly thought he didn’t work that way. He’d never looked at a girl or at pornography and felt anything like what the other boys said they did. He’d considered that maybe he liked boys, but not really? The only person he’d ever liked much at all was A-Yuan.

He’s dwelt all evening on the fact that this feeling isn’t new. He’s felt this way around A-Yuan before; he just didn’t recognize it. Besides, he’s 16, so he gets erections for weird reasons all the time. A-Yuan’s presence hadn’t really been a factor, as far as he could tell.

Or… well, maybe it had been a factor after all. It’s something he’ll have plenty of time to think about in a few days, when he’s back home in Cloud Recesses and nursing a broken heart.

“Good night,” A-Yuan whispers, his lips are close to Jingyi’s ear, and that’s all it takes for Jingyi’s body to betray him completely. He’s sure he’s gone noticeably stiff (ha) in A-Yuan’s arms, but there’s not much he can do other than lie there and accept his fate.

He goes to sleep, eventually.

+++

They spend another two days working on talismans with Wei Wuxian, finally working their way up to more serious, even dangerous ones, like spirit-attraction lures. Most sects use some form of these sorts of talismans now—it was one part of Wei Wuxian’s work that was widely accepted as an advance in cultivation. Hearing the theory behind their development from the man who first created them, though, is something else altogether. Jingyi does not have a difficult time paying attention in a lecture for once in his life.

Late in the afternoon of the third day, Hanguang-jun joins Wei Wuxian for a demonstration of paired musical cultivation technique. Many of the students gasp in shock at the sight of Wei Wuxian lifting Chenqing to his lips—they’ve all heard the stories, though many of the ones they’ve heard were greatly exaggerated. When Hanguang-jun joins him on the qin, though, everyone is captivated by the sound of the duet. They start with a few traditional songs to enhance peaceful meditation, so successfully that a few students nod off before they’re done. From there, Wei Wuxian explains some of the theory they’ve worked out together, of the ways these two powerful spiritual instruments affect and enhance each other.

Jingyi has never been particularly good at playing an instrument, but this demonstration makes him want to learn. He knows that A-Yuan plays both instruments a little bit, that he has a natural affinity for it, but Jingyi’s always been hopeless at that particular art.

There’s a break for the evening meal, and once darkness falls, they all follow Hanguang-jun out into the forest for a demonstration of Inquiry. Jingyi’s seen it many times before—it’s a standard Lan technique. He understands the note language, even if he’s not good at playing it. For most of the other students, though, it’s a revelation to watch Hanguang-jun communicate with a spirit. Wei Wuxian had gone ahead of the group and rounded up a ghost for him: a relatively boring and innocuous one, but who needs help being put to rest all the same.

Everyone chatters excitedly on the way back, and Jingyi can hear how differently they all speak about Wei Wuxian than they did just a few days ago. He was a faceless monster in so many of their childhoods, a demon who would devour you as soon as look at you. Jingyi had heard some of those stories too, though they were banned as frivolous gossip in the Cloud Recesses. From what he hears around him, everyone now thinks of him as a rogue cultivator who has been greatly and unfairly misunderstood. Jingyi hopes it stays that way, even if it’s not completely the truth.

A-Yuan’s relief at the success of the entire venture is clear. Jingyi knows how important it is for him that people recognize and respect his father’s abilities. Jingyi has watched them live in the shadows of the cultivation world all these years, and he knows firsthand how difficult it’s been.

Things between the two of them have been—well, interesting. After they woke up together the morning after Jingyi’s revelation, A-Yuan had smiled sweetly at him, then tackled him down to the mattress hard enough to push the air out of Jingyi’s lungs. He’d laughed and tucked his forehead under Jingyi’s chin, and settled in like he was going back to sleep. Jingyi had attempted to push him off, grumbling, but gave up and wrapped his arms around A-Yuan instead. And it was nice, so nice. He’d tried very hard not to think about how much A-Yuan would hate him later, knowing he’d just taken advantage.

Jin Ling had wandered over at some point, yawning, then abruptly turned and left the room at the sight of them. He’d given them odd looks for the rest of the day.

A-Yuan seemed to think everything was back to normal between them after that. Jingyi felt guilty, but that guilt was remarkably easy to ignore when A-Yuan was smiling at him and leaning against his shoulder, or whispering a private joke in his ear.

They didn’t have much time left. Jingyi would probably regret it later, but that’s a problem for future-Jingyi. Right-now-Jingyi is going to enjoy it.

Chapter Text

“I’m so excited for this,” Zizhen says as soon as they land in the clearing. He turns to look at Jingyi, now touching down lightly next to him. “We’ve been cooped up in Lotus Pier too long.”

Jingyi nods his agreement. It had felt good to fly over the treetops, leaving the lakes behind. To do something different.

On the other side of Zizhen, Jin Ling sheaths his sword and smirks. “We’re going to kick so much ass.”

Zizhen grins at him. “Maybe we’ll leave some prey for the others.”

“Or maybe we’ll learn a lesson about humility,” A-Yuan says, pointedly.

Jin Ling rolls his eyes. “It’s not like it isn’t true.”

“Not the point.”

Everyone has been looking forward to the night hunt at the end of the discussion conference. Sandu Shengshou had talked about it frequently during the last few weeks, describing it as an opportunity to apply all the new skills they’d learned. It’s also the final chance to work in their cross-sect teams—when they meet at night hunts and conferences in the future, it will be as competitors.

Sandu Shengshou himself had led them all to the Jiang sect’s hunting grounds a short sword flight away. Servants from Lotus Pier had come the day before to prepare the site: a large tent had been erected on the far side of the clearing for the observers, and long tables were set up around the perimeter. Later they’d be laden with snacks and trays of tea, for when the hunt is done.

Everyone gathers as the rules are explained: different types of prey earn teams 1, 2, or 3 points, and the first team to 20 points wins. This is a capture and release hunt, with no killing or harming unless necessary. Teams are to bring their captures to one of the many checkpoints in the grounds to show to one of the senior disciples, who will verify their point totals.

“Jiujiu’s spent years stocking the grounds here,” Jin Ling tells them as they start up the path for the hunt. “He’ll be pissed if too many of the rare creatures are killed.”

“You’d think they’d learn how not to get caught after a while,” Zizhen says.

“They do and they have,” A-Yuan replies. “That’s part of the challenge of it, actually.”

“We’re so gonna kick ass,” Jin Ling says, grinning.

They do, as it turns out, kick ass. The four of them are a formidable team, each person contributing a particular set of strengths that complements the rest of the group perfectly. Jingyi and A-Yuan have hunted together many times in the past, and work together now without verbal communication. Jingyi just always knows where A-Yuan will be and what he’s going to do. Jin Ling is smart and very observant, and he’s able to keep up with them both. Zizhen hangs back and looks at the big picture, ready to back someone up or switch up the plan on a moment’s notice.

They hit 20 points before wu shi. It’s almost disappointing.

They find a checkpoint and turn their prey over to the startled senior disciple who’d clearly been planning to spend most of his day lounging at his station. He verifies their point total and sends a message off to Sandu Shengshou, who’s personally overseeing the contest.

They start making their way back to the clearing at the base of the hill, exhilarated but also a little sad that the fun is over.

“That corpse had definitely seen a thing or two,” Jingyi says, grimacing. “I almost felt bad for it.”

“Yeah, it seemed to regret stepping into our path, didn’t it?” Zizhen shakes his head. “But the spectral bird—how did you do that?”

Jingyi looks over at A-Yuan, eyebrows raised. A-Yuan had whistled something at it, something between a melody and a birdsong, and the creature had flown right to them, landing placidly on the ground. Jingyi had thrown a net over it, and that was that.

A-Yuan looks a little sheepish. “I just thought I’d try it. I didn’t expect it to work.”

“You’d better make up a good story to tell everyone,” Jin Ling says. “You don’t want Da-jiu to find out.”

“No,” A-Yuan replies, his expression grim.

Zizhen looks back and forth between the two of them. “What does that mean?”

A-Yuan stops walking, then looks around to make sure they’re alone. “I’m not supposed to use resentful energy without Ba around to supervise.”

Zizhen’s mouth drops open. “You really—but isn’t that dangerous?”

“Yes,” Jingyi and Jin Ling say in unison. They exchange a knowing glance: they’ve never talked about this with each other, but they clearly both have experience with the topic.

“Ba taught me the basics of how to invite the energy and manipulate it, and Hanguang-jun taught me how to purge it using my core.”

“Hanguang-jun approves?” Zizhen gapes at him in disbelief.

A-Yuan winces. “I wouldn’t say that. It was more that they found out I was experimenting with it and decided to teach me how to do it safely, rather than forbid me from it.”

That part still blows Jingyi’s mind. He can’t imagine any Lan elder—especially Hanguang-jun—responding to such obvious rule-breaking by helping the person learn how do it better. He’s pretty sure that’s not what would happen if he got caught doing something forbidden.

“Wait, does that mean you—”

Zizhen’s question is cut off by a scream from nearby. There is some shouting after that, the sounds of a scuffle, and more cries of pain. They all glance at each other, then run in the direction of the noise. Down the path a bit and through a thicket is one of the other teams. Most of them are struggling to contain a monstrous tree. The branches lash out at them and break through all their attempts to subdue it. Worse, it’s not attached to the ground—its roots crawl across the forest floor like dozens of snakes, pulling the massive trunk ever closer to them.

A-Yuan gasps and dashes over to where someone is writhing on the ground, clutching a bloody arm.

Jingyi turns to Zizhen. “Go get help.” Zizhen nods and dashes away.

Jin Ling and Jingyi exchange a quick glance, then join in the fight against the tree monster.

“It’s too strong for our nets!” one of the disciples shouts.

It also appears to be impervious to their weapons. Swords hacking at its branches aren’t making much of a dent.

“Then we’ll set an array,” Jingyi says. He often comes into his strength in moments like this, eerily calm while others are freaking out around him. It’s suddenly easy to focus on what must be done. He closes his eyes and centers himself, then begins to build the array.

It’s done within a minute, to the astonishment of the gathered disciples. When Jingyi opens his eyes, the tree is frozen in place, pinned by the glowing array spinning slowly around it. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to hold it, but it’s solid for now.

There are soft whimpering sounds behind him, ones he hadn’t heard before. A-Yuan is kneeling by the injured disciple on the ground, whispering to him. His hands are on the boy’s shoulder, glowing slightly as he transfers qi.

“Shu-xiong!” one of the disciples says, crossing to get a better look.

It’s Peng Wangshu, Jingyi realizes. His arm seems to be dislocated, though how badly Jingyi can’t tell.

A-Yuan says something to him, something soft and soothing, then looks up at the disciple kneeling by Peng Wangshu’s head. That boy nods and puts his hands on Peng Wangshu’s shoulders.

Jingyi looks away, tries to focus on the array, but he can’t shut out the scream as Peng Wangshu’s shoulder is snapped back into place. There’s more whimpering and talking after that, but Jingyi shuts it out, focuses on the array.

“Lan-xiong needs help,” he hears, and then the others are joining in, directing their swords at the center of the array, adding their own spiritual energy to stabilize it.

There are footsteps behind them soon after, then Sandu Shengshou is there, hand on Jingyi’s shoulder.

“I’ve got it,” he says, and pushes Jingyi behind him. Zidian glows and lashes out from his wrist, wrapping around the trunk of the tree. He looks back at Jingyi. “You can let go now.”

Jingyi signals to the other disciples to back off, then releases his hold on the array. Sandu Shengshou stands there and glares at the tree monster. Apparently that’s enough: the tree groans dramatically and slumps, its branches falling to the ground with a series of muffled thumps. It seems to know what happens next, and is not enthusiastic about it.

“A-Ling,” Sandu Shengshou says.

Jingyi glances over at Jin Ling, who is watching his uncle with awe.

“Go get your Da-jiu.” He doesn’t look away from the tree.

“Yes, Jiujiu,” Jin Ling says. He hops on his sword and sails up and over the trees.

Jingyi hears new voices behind him: Jiang furen is there, along with two senior disciples. Jiang furen kneels next to Peng Wangshu and examines his arm, touching him carefully. A-Yuan watches the movements of her hands, clearly hanging on every word she says.

When his arm is secured, the two senior disciples lift Peng Wangshu and take him down the path. Jiang furen turns to A-Yuan with a serious expression. “You should have waited for me before popping his shoulder back into place.”

“I’ve done it before—you know I have.”

“Not the point. Next time, you wait for me.” She reaches for his wrist, presses her fingers against his skin. She frowns at him.

“I overdid it,” A-Yuan says, grudgingly. “I wanted to help him, and I didn’t know how long it would be before you arrived.”

“You overestimate your own capabilities,” she says, her voice tight. “We’re going to talk about this later.” She gives him a stern look, then walks away. A-Yuan crumples slightly as she goes. Jingyi’s seen him get scolded before, but he’s never seen A-Yuan look quite so dejected after.

Just as Jiang furen disappears around the bend, Wei Wuxian comes into view. He glances over at A-Yuan and his eyes widen.

“It’s not my blood,” A-Yuan says, holding up his hands. He sinks into a crouch, looking exhausted.

Wei Wuxian still looks worried, but he nods and goes to stand next to Sandu Shengshou. He tilts his head up at the tree monster. “Like last time?”

Sandu Shengshou nods. “Yeah, that worked fine.”

Wei Wuxian brings his flute to his lips and plays a haunting tune. The tree perks up a little, then begins stretching its limbs up toward the sky. The trunk straightens, and the tree slowly returns to its original form.

Sandu Shengshou releases Zidian. Wei Wuxian keeps playing, moving into Rest as the tree settles into place. Within a few minutes, it’s done.

“Wow,” Jingyi says. They made it look easy. Jingyi has so much to learn.

He turns to where A-Yuan sits on the ground and holds out a hand. A-Yuan takes it, lets himself be pulled to his feet, then almost immediately lists into Jingyi’s shoulder.

“Whoa,” Jingyi says, and slides an arm around him to support him. “You okay?”

“I will be.” A-Yuan looks oddly pale. “I just need a minute.”

Jingyi reaches for his wrist. He can feel the reduced flow of qi there, and he looks up at A-Yuan again. “What did you do?”

“I’m an idiot, I know.” A-Yuan sighs. “I know you want to scold me for it. Get in line.” He leans his head against Jingyi’s shoulder.

“I’m not going to scold you.” Jingyi reaches down and slides his other arm under A-Yuan’s knees, and lifts him off the ground. “But I’ll carry you down.”

A-Yuan gapes at him. “Xiao Yi!” he hisses. His face is darkening with embarrassment. “Put me down!”

“You can barely stand.”

“Well you—you just held that array all by yourself! You should conserve your strength.” A-Yuan wiggles a little.

Jingyi tightens his hold. “I have plenty of strength for this.”

“I’m too heavy!”

Jingyi smirks and bounces A-Yuan in his arms. “You’re really not.”

A-Yuan looks offended at that. He glares at Jingyi for a moment, then switches tactics completely, shifting into a pout. “It’s so embarrassing. Please, Xiao Yi, put me down.”

There’s a huff of laughter behind them. Sandu Shengshou says something Jingyi can’t make out, followed by a “Shut up” from Wei Wuxian.

Jingyi is—contrary to all previous experience—fully capable of resisting A-Yuan’s pouty face, but he’s also aware that people are watching them.

“Xiao Yi,” A-Yuan says again, whining now.

“If being in my arms is that terrible, fine.” Jingyi is frustrated that A-Yuan won’t let him take care of him, but it’s not worth making a scene over. He sets A-Yuan down, a little harder than he means to, and starts walking.

Behind him, Sandu Shengshou says something indistinct. Wei Wuxian gasps and, from the sound of it, slaps Sandu Shengshou hard on the shoulder. There’s the sound of a scuffle then, as if the two of them are mere schoolboys instead of feared and respected cultivation masters.

Jingyi hears A-Yuan hurrying to catch up with him, and immediately feels bad that he acted so childishly. He slows to let A-Yuan catch up, then walks beside him, matching his pace. He glances over to see A-Yuan looking like he’s still struggling, but pushing through it.

Jingyi should apologize, probably. He’s being stupid and petty. He takes a breath.

“It wasn’t,” A-Yuan says quietly.

“Huh?”

“Terrible.” A-Yuan gives him a quick glance, then looks forward again.

Jingyi blinks, then his words from earlier fill his mind again. Oh—not terrible. His thoughts spin through all the things A-Yuan could have meant by that, each more wishful than the last. He doesn’t know what to say in response, so he says nothing. A-Yuan fidgets beside him, seeming as if he wants to say something more. He doesn’t, though, and they both walk on in awkward silence.

They’re almost back to the clearing when A-Yuan stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Xiao Yi, I—”

Jingyi turns to look at him. He looks a tiny bit better now, not as pale, though still clearly drained. Jingyi reaches out and grasps him by the arms, as if he might tumble over at any moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” A-Yuan opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything more. He’s a bit shorter than Jingyi, just enough that he has to look up at him when they’re standing this close. His eyes are big and brown, his lips just slightly parted, and his expression is soft. His hands settle on Jingyi’s waist.

They’re holding each other, Jingyi realizes. Standing here just off the path, with people not far away. Anyone could come around the corner and see.

Jingyi could kiss him. He could lean in and press his mouth against A-Yuan’s. The idea of it is startling—he’s imagined it before, sure, but actually doing it?

The corners of A-Yuan’s lips turn up very slightly. His gaze drops to Jingyi’s mouth.

There are voices then, coming down the path right behind them. They spring apart.

Another team walks past, chattering excitedly. They nod at Jingyi and A-Yuan as they pass.

A-Yuan looks back at Jingyi, his expression carefully neutral once again. He tilts his head toward the path, meaning we should go back. Jingyi nods. His heart is beating wildly in his chest.

Did that really just happen? Were they really standing there looking into each other’s eyes? Did they almost kiss? Did they both want to?

They’re almost back to the clearing, where they’ll be surrounded by people, with no chance to talk privately for who knows how long. Jingyi wants to grab A-Yuan by the arm and pull him behind a tree and find out the answers.

There is another group behind them now, though, so he keeps walking. The moment they get to the clearing, they’re swarmed by disciples who’ve already heard the story of what happened with the monster tree and Peng Wangshu’s injury. Jin Ling and Zizhen shoulder their way through the crowd, both looking obscenely proud of their teammates.

“Come on, let them breathe,” Zizhen says, and slings an arm around A-Yuan’s shoulder to pull him away. Jingyi frowns, but swallows it down. He has no right to feel possessive of A-Yuan, especially not with a friend.

They make their way over to a low table where Jin Ling and Zizhen have already claimed space. Just as they’re about to sit, Jiang furen appears, hands on her hips. Her expression is stern, almost a glare.

“A-Yuan,” she says, hands on her hips.

He ducks his head obediently and follows her. The rest of the group watches as they disappear into a tent on the edge of the clearing.

“He’s in trouble,” Jin Ling says. “What happened?”

Jingyi shakes his head. It’s not his place to tell. He pours himself a cup of tea instead.

A small group of disciples comes over to ask questions then, and Jingyi sits back and lets Jin Ling and Zizhen tell the story for him.

More teams come back, some limping and disappointed, others grinning and exuberant. Zizhen heads over to talk to Jia Wanmiao when her group returns. They’re grinning at each other, gesturing wildly as they describe great shots. Jia Wanmiao laughs at something Zizhen says, then looks at him with an expression that even Jingyi can tell is smitten. Zizhen stares back at her, looking like someone hit him over the head. Jingyi watches them, trying to decide if he needs to intervene. Zizhen’s his friend, but Jia Wanmiao is his shimei, and he’s supposed to look out for her.

Jia Wanmiao leans in to whisper something to Zizhen, whose ears turn bright red, and Jingyi groans. He’s going to have to go over there. He really doesn’t want to. He glances over to the large tent, where Hanguang-jun is sitting. Wei Wuxian is draped against his side, chattering away and casually twirling one end of Hanguang-jun’s forehead ribbon around his finger. Hanguang-jun is watching the conversation between Zizhen and Jia Wanmiao too, with a cool expression.

Jingyi smirks at that. Zizhen is going to have to step up and do more to impress Hanguang-jun in the very near future.

“They’re so shameless,” Jin Ling says, settling next to Jingyi. For a moment, Jingyi thinks he’s talking about Zizhen and Jia Wanmiao, but he’s actually looking over at Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian. “It’s like they don’t care if people know they’re fucking.”

“Maybe they don’t,” Jingyi says. There was a time when he would’ve thought it scandalous too, but now he’s starting to respect them for it.

“They’re not even married,” Jin Ling retorts.

“Do you really think anyone is going to care about that?” Jingyi asks. “Won’t they be more concerned about all the demonic cultivation?”

“Ehhh.” Jin Ling waves a hand. “That’s ancient history. People will be much more interested in a sex scandal between those two.”

Jingyi considers that for a moment. “You know, you’re probably right.” Hell, that may be part of their plan, for all Jingyi knows.

It’s a while before A-Yuan comes back. He looks better as he sits next to Jingyi, but Jingyi reaches for his hand anyway and presses two fingers against the meridian in his wrist. The energy flowing there is stronger now, if not back to what it was before.

Jingyi transfers qi into him in a small stream, mostly to make himself feel better. A-Yuan tolerates it for a minute, then pulls his wrist away with a small smile.

“Thoroughly scolded?” Jingyi asks.

A-Yuan nods. “Ba came back and let me have it too. I know it was stupid, I just—” He shrugs.

“You wanted to help.” Jingyi pours him a cup of tea.

“But not at the expense of my safety.” He sounds like he’s repeating words he’s heard many times.

“I’ll protect you if it happens again,” Jingyi says, raising his eyebrows. “If you’ll let me.”

“I’ll try.” A-Yuan shrugs, and drinks the tea Jingyi hands him.

“There, that wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

A-Yuan almost chokes on the tea through a laugh. “Not terrible at all.”

That’s their last chance to talk privately. They’re surrounded by other disciples for the rest of the afternoon, all chattering excitedly and asking questions about their captures.

When the last team returns, they fly back to Lotus Pier as a group. Jiang furen makes a final appearance, checking over A-Yuan one more time. She tells Jingyi to stay close to him on the flight back, just in case.

Jingyi bows to her and promises he’ll stay as close as A-Yuan will let him. A-Yuan rolls his eyes, but he smiles at Jingyi.

The flight back goes fine, despite Jiang furen’s reservations. Jingyi flies close to A-Yuan anyway, more to be annoying than helpful. A-Yuan gives him a friendly shove when they land again just inside the walls of Lotus Pier. Jingyi shoves back, and that starts a teasing fight that Jin Ling and Zizhen join, followed by the four of them racing back to their quarters as other disciples cheer them on.

They clean up and change into their nicest robes for the evening’s banquet. A-Yuan strips down to just his trousers, and stays that way for longer than is appropriate. Jingyi can’t help sneaking looks over at him, at the shape of him and all that exposed skin with hints of strength underneath. A-Yuan looks up then and catches Jingyi staring at him. His mouth twists into a smirk, and Jingyi looks away. It’s not like they haven’t seen each other in various stages of undress over the years, but it feels especially charged now.

Jingyi can’t help it, though. He’s drawn to A-Yuan in every way, so much that it’s making him feel crazy. He can barely think about anything else. He has no idea how he’s going to get through an entire evening of speeches and toasts, with A-Yuan right there and looking like that, like he’s just daring Jingyi to push him up against the nearest wall and kiss him.

Jingyi has to close his eyes and take some deep, centering breaths.

He keeps looking for a chance to talk to A-Yuan privately, but there isn’t one. He doesn’t even know what he would say. He just knows they need to talk, to get whatever this thing is between them out in the open. A-Yuan is tense too, almost jumpy as they walk down the path to the main banquet hall side by side. Jingyi wants to take his hand, but he doesn’t dare. Even brushing up against A-Yuan would be too much right now. He might combust on the spot.

The banquet feels even longer than Jingyi expected. There are speeches and more speeches—many of the leaders of the smaller sects have come to praise Sandu Shengshou’s wisdom in organizing a discussion conference for their junior disciples. Everyone had performed well at the night hunt, and the buzz of excitement in the air is still palpable.

Jingyi’s lightheaded from the sheer number of toasts made, and is grateful when the food finally appears. Eating helps, as does the solid presence of A-Yuan next to him. Their knees are touching under the table, and every now and then one of them presses into the other. It’s grounding, if also distracting to the point of frustration.

When the food is taken away, Jingyi thinks it might be over, but it’s not, and they settle in for even more speeches from the senior Jiang disciples, who’ve been supervising much of their training over the last several weeks. Jingyi finally can’t maintain proper Lan posture any more and leans back on his hands. No one around him will care anyway. He stretches his shoulders as subtly as he can and wiggles his fingers.

His hand touches something warm—A-Yuan is leaning back on his hands too, mirroring Jingyi’s posture. Jingyi can’t resist brushing the tip of his little finger against the back of A-Yuan’s hand. Next to him, A-Yuan sucks in a quiet breath. Jingyi traces his finger down the length of A-Yuan’s little finger, feather-light, teasing. He doesn’t dare look over at A-Yuan, but he can hear how his breathing has changed.

A-Yuan stays still at first, his breath catching as Jingyi’s finger traces back up between two fingers. Jingyi carefully strokes up, then back down again, tracing over and between A-Yuan’s fingers, lingering at the seam between, circling over each knuckle. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, but A-Yuan stays stock-still, his breathing the only sign he’s affected. Jingyi feels powerful, daring—but not daring enough to look at A-Yuan’s face. His own face is hot as it is, and he’s frankly more than a little turned on right now. The less anyone looks his way, the better.

At last, A-Yuan turns his hand so that he can intertwine his fingers with Jingyi’s. Jingyi can’t stop the smile that spreads over his face then. He squeezes A-Yuan’s hand, and A-Yuan squeezes back. Jingyi’s heart is full in his chest, so full he feels like he might burst with it. A-Yuan’s thumb strokes softly against the back of Jingyi’s hand, and Jingyi sighs, amazed that something so simple feels so good.

They let go of each other’s hands when people start gathering around to talk to them. The adults begin heading out to their guest rooms and inns in town, leaving the disciples to continue their celebrations.

It’s the last night they’ll all be together, so everyone is anxious to talk to everyone else, to give compliments and teasing challenges, to promise to write and visit. There’s more wine being poured, but Jingyi stops drinking. He wants his head clear, wants to remember this night.

He finally works up the nerve to look over at A-Yuan, and finds A-Yuan looking back. Jingyi’s going to ask him to go for a walk later, so they can finally talk about all of this. But for now, they’re warm and comfortable, and it’s so good to be in the middle of the crowd.

In a few days, Jingyi will be back at Cloud Recesses, where everything is still and quiet. The excited chatter of all these people is something he’s going to miss. He looks around the banquet hall and tries to absorb the feeling, to memorize it. He may not ever get to experience something like this again, he realizes with a start. And even if he does, it will never be the same.

He arrived here not expecting to be particularly successful, or even to make any friends. He’s leaving as one of the most accomplished and respected young cultivators here, and with more friends than he ever expected to have. He glances over at Zizhen and Jin Ling. The four of them make such a good team. He wonders when he’ll see them again.

“Hey,” Jin Ling says, leaning across the table to poke at Jingyi. “Why do you look so sad?”

Jingyi shrugs. “I’m gonna miss this. All of you.”

“Aw.” Jin Ling grins. “We should plan to meet up soon, just the four of us.”

“Yeah!” Zizhen says. “We could go on a night hunt together, or just hang out somewhere.”

Easier said than done, Jingyi thinks. When he gets home, he’ll have duties to resume and may not have the opportunity to travel for a while. He’s not the son of a sect leader, after all. He may be on his way to being a well-respected senior disciple, but he’s not there yet. He’s got some work to do if he’s going to prove himself to the Lan elders.

Everyone at the table looks up suddenly. Jingyi turns to see Peng Wangshu standing there, staring at A-Yuan. His arm is wrapped in bandages and strapped to his torso to keep him from moving it. His expression is a strange mix of worry and hope.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks A-Yuan. He glances around the group of boys staring up at him and adds, “in private?”

A-Yuan’s expression is perfectly polite, which means he absolutely does not want to go anywhere right now and is trying to work out how to say no without being rude. He finally presses his lips into a flat smile and nods. He pats Jingyi on the shoulder and says, “I’ll be right back.”

Jingyi watches as A-Yuan follows Peng Wangshu across the hall and out the door, into the night.

Jingyi frowns at that. He’d thought Peng Wangshu wanted to thank A-Yuan for helping him, but why would they need to leave the building for that? What would Peng Wangshu want to tell him that he couldn’t say in the corner of the room?

Jingyi stews on it a few moments more, then gets up to follow them.

The moon is bright overhead, reflecting on the water flowing throughout the compound. It’s unseasonably warm tonight, even a bit balmy—a perfect evening for a romantic stroll. Jingyi clenches his jaw at that thought.

After a few wrong turns, he finally spots them standing a distance away in the middle of the maze of walkways in this part of Lotus Pier. They’re standing too close for Jingyi’s liking, but he makes himself stay back, far enough away not to be eavesdropping. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s not his business.

He keeps telling himself that, anyway.

He can hear their voices, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Peng Wangshu talks for a while, and A-Yuan seems to be listening carefully. Then A-Yuan says something that makes Peng Wangshu nod and take a step back. His entire posture changes, as if he’s sinking into himself. A-Yuan’s voice is gentle as it carries over the water. Whatever he’s saying, he’s being very kind. They talk a moment more, then Peng Wangshu turns and leaves. A-Yuan watches him go, and even from here, Jingyi can see that he looks sad.

Peng Wangshu walks toward where Jingyi is standing, and there’s no way to avoid him. Peng Wangshu pulls up slightly when he sees Jingyi standing there. Jingyi smiles tightly, and Peng Wangshu gives him an awkward nod as he passes. Jingyi feels guilty for snooping, but he’s been caught and there’s nothing to be done about it now. He looks over to where A-Yuan is standing and watching them both.

Jingyi walks over to him, a strangely long distance along the winding pathway. He finally stands in front of A-Yuan, alone at last.

“What was that about?” Jingyi asks.

A-Yuan sighs and leans back against the railing. “You already know what it was about.”

Jingyi can guess, sure, but he doesn’t want to make assumptions. “If I knew, I wouldn’t ask. Unless you’d rather not say. I mean, it’s not my business.”

A-Yuan grimaces. “He confessed his feelings for me. And he said he knew I didn’t feel that way about him, but he wanted to ask for a chance, to show me that he could be a good boyfriend.” A-Yuan shakes his head at this. “He said he would do everything he could to prove himself to me and—”

“He wanted to court you?” Jingyi clenches his jaw. He didn’t even get to ask first! Peng Wangshu beat him to it. At least A-Yuan had said no—hadn’t he?

“You said no, right?”

“Of course! I told him—” A-Yuan bites his lip and looks away. “Uh, that my heart already belongs to someone else.”

Jingyi can barely breathe for a moment. “Does it?”

A-Yuan looks up at him, his voice barely a whisper. “You know it does.”

Jingyi moves closer and takes A-Yuan’s hands in his. “Good.”

They stare at each other for a moment. Jingyi’s head spins: this doesn’t feel real, somehow. Is he dreaming? Is A-Yuan really saying what Jingyi thinks he’s saying?

“You mean me, right?” Jingyi asks.

“Of course I mean you, you idiot!” A-Yuan’s smile is exasperated. “Who else could it be?”

Jingyi smiles and feels a wave of relief on top of all the other emotions swirling inside him. “Just checking. And, same. I feel the same.”

“You’d better.” A-Yuan lifts an eyebrow in that way Jingyi has never quite managed to mimic. “I don’t want anyone else.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone but you.” Jingyi feels his face heat at the sentiment, but he means it. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, I think. I just didn’t realize it.”

“Well, Lan Jingyi, you’ve got me.” A-Yuan pulls Jingyi closer, so close that their noses nearly brush. “So what are you going to do with me?”

Jingyi shivers at the sensation of warm breath against his lips. He feels light-headed again, giddy with possibility and anticipation. “I’ve got some ideas. For example—” He leans in to kiss A-Yuan, but there’s a burst of sound nearby and they both jump apart. In the distance, they see a group of students walking along the path. Even when they’re alone, there still isn’t any privacy.

“Come with me,” A-Yuan says, and takes Jingyi’s hand.

He leads Jingyi through the compound, down towards the lake. It gets quieter as they move away from the main areas of Lotus Pier, and a little colder too. A-Yuan leads Jingyi down a walkway over the water toward what seems to be a small boathouse on the lake. He peers around the corner to make sure it’s empty, then tugs Jingyi inside.

It’s dark except for the moonlight reflecting off the water. Jingyi’s eyes adjust after a moment: there are stacks of small boats on one side of the structure, along with a workbench for repairs. One side of the boathouse is open to the water; small waves lap rhythmically against the boards. There’s a boat overturned in the middle of the small space. A-Yuan pulls Jingyi to sit on it with him.

For a moment, they both stare out at the lake. Jingyi’s stomach is in knots. This is a good place to kiss someone. That’s why A-Yuan brought them here, right? Jingyi’s never kissed anyone before, though. What if he’s terrible at it? What if A-Yuan doesn’t like it?

“So,” A-Yuan says, and slides a little closer. “Do you want to talk some more?”

Jingyi turns to look at him. They probably should talk more, but all Jingyi can think about right now is kissing him.

A-Yuan bites his lip again, and it’s so adorable Jingyi might die. “Or we could talk later.”

A-Yuan leans forward and Jingyi leans in to meet him, whispering, “Yes.”

A-Yuan’s lips are warm and dry, but softer than Jingyi expected. Their mouths move together slowly, and it’s soft and sweet. Jingyi’s eyes are tightly closed, but his other senses are on fire: A-Yuan smells warm, like clean laundry, and his lips taste a bit of the last sip of wine he’d had. He’s warm too, so warm Jingyi wants to pull him in closer, press up against him.

He pulls back a bit, enough to sort out the jumble in his mind, and touches their foreheads together. He makes sure to press his forehead ribbon against A-Yuan’s skin, and wonders if he’ll notice.

“Why didn’t we do that before?” A-Yuan says, his voice soft. “We could have been kissing this whole time. And tomorrow we go home.”

Jingyi is resolutely not thinking about saying goodbye tomorrow. “We’ve got all the time in the world after that.”

A-Yuan pulls back enough to look at him. “Is that what you want? For us to be—” He gestures between them.

“I already said I wanted you to be my cultivation partner. I meant it.”

“That’s what I want too. But also…” He hesitates.

“That too,” Jingyi says. “I want everything with you.”

They stare at each other again, both of them feeling the weight of the moment. Jingyi’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

He slides a hand up to cradle A-Yuan’s face, one thumb pressed gently against his cheek. A-Yuan mirrors him, then slides his hand higher. He slowly brushes his fingers over the grain of the ribbon on Jingyi’s forehead. It feels like he’s staking a claim. Jingyi imagines himself tying that ribbon around A-Yuan’s wrist, and feels a twinge of something deep in his belly.

“I’m yours,” Jingyi says softly. “Anything you want.”

“Yes,” A-Yuan says, and kisses him again.

They kiss more enthusiastically now, more desperately, like they’re making up for lost time. Jingyi’s nearly overwhelmed by it, by how wet and warm A-Yuan’s mouth is, how the slide of their tongues together is unbearably erotic, and how they suddenly can’t get close enough. He’d wondered how it would feel, kissing A-Yuan like this. His imagination had never even come close.

A-Yuan pulls away for a moment and Jingyi can’t resist kissing his cheek instead, then his jaw, then the soft skin on his neck. A-Yuan gasps at that and tilts his head back. Jingyi wants more of him, wishes he could taste the skin on his chest, on his stomach. There are lots of other places he’d like to put his mouth, and the thought of that swirls low in his belly.

A-Yuan makes a soft sound and kisses his mouth again. He’s nearly in Jingyi’s lap, pressed so close against him. A-Yuan’s arms are around his shoulders and his mouth is on Jingyi’s neck, and it’s amazing.

They kiss and kiss, and lose track of time completely. Jingyi’s pretty sure his lips will be sore form this tomorrow, but he doesn’t care. He could stay like this forever. They could—

There’s a gasp, followed by a giggle, and it’s not from either of them.

A-Yuan scrambles backward in surprise, falling onto his ass on the floor. Jingyi turns to look at the entrance to the boathouse, where two people are standing.

“See?” Jin Ling elbows a gaping Zizhen. “I told you they probably went to find a place to make out.”

Zizhen stares at them both with a mix of surprise and embarrassment, and says nothing.

“This is one of the better known make-out spots in all of Lotus Pier, actually.” Jin Ling looks around the boathouse, not at all shocked at having walked in on Jingyi and A-Yuan wrapped around each other.

“How do you know where the best make-out spots are?” A-Yuan says, standing and dusting himself off. It’s not much of a deflection from their current state: his ears are so red that Jingyi can see it in the dim light, and his mouth is red too, and wet. It’s so obvious what they’ve been doing.

“How do you?” Jin Ling retorts. “Anyway, sorry to interrupt, but Jiujiu got mad at us all for making too much noise and ordered everyone to their quarters immediately.”

It must have been bad if Sandu Shengshou finally put an end to the party. He’s been remarkably tolerant until now.

“We didn’t know where you were,” Zizhen says, distinctly not-looking at them.

“We figured you’d rather not get in trouble if someone caught you out past curfew,” Jin Ling adds.

“Ah. Thanks.” Jingyi lets A-Yuan pull him to his feet. He’s not sure whether he should feel embarrassed about all of this or not.

“Sorry, though,” Jin Ling says. “I know it’s your last night and all.”

Jingyi shrugs, but yeah—this is it, isn’t it? He looks at A-Yuan, whose expression mirrors his own. Despite his earlier comment that they have all the time in the world, they don’t have any in the immediate future, and the reality of that is settling in.

Zizhen groans and leans back against the doorway, letting his head thunk against the wood there.

“What are you so freaked out about?” Jin Ling asks him.

“I missed my chance to talk to Miaomiao. I was going to tell her I like her. And now it’s too late.”

“If she lets you call her that, I think she already knows,” Jingyi says.

Zizhen looks directly at him for the first time since he arrived. “Really?”

“I don’t even call her that.”

“Oh.” Zizhen’s expression goes a bit dazed.

“You definitely missed your chance to kiss her,” Jin Ling says, smirking a little.

“Shut up,” Jingyi and Zizhen say in unison, then turn to look at each other. Jingyi tries to glare at him. Zizhen just raises his eyebrows in response, and yeah—Jingyi doesn’t have any moral high ground, considering what they just walked in on.

A-Yuan sighs. “Let’s get going before we get in trouble for real.”

The four of them walk back to their guest house as quietly as possible. No one else is around, though, and they make it back without incident.

They all change into their bedclothes while Zizhen and Jin Ling relate the story of how Sandu Shengshou had nearly turned purple with rage before he ordered them all to bed. There is apparently an early gathering in the morning, which everyone seems to regard as a punishment for embarrassing him with their bad behavior while other sect leaders were on the grounds.

They douse the lanterns, plunging the room into darkness at last. It’s chilly now too, the unseasonable heat of the day having long faded with the sun. Jingyi takes a calming breath as he slides into the bed with A-Yuan. His stomach twists again, both with anticipation of what they might do and with the realization that this is their last night together. He’s been pushing it away, out of his mind, but it’s here now. This is the end.

A-Yuan pulls him close and kisses him. It’s a soft, gentle kiss at first, but Jingyi can’t help licking at the seam of his lips and deepening it almost immediately.

From across the room, Jin Ling groans. “I swear, if you two fuck in here tonight, I will tell Da-jiu.”

“We’re not—we—shut up!” A-Yuan buries his face in Jingyi’s neck.

“Then stop being gross,” Jin Ling retorts.

A-Yuan makes a small sound of frustration. Jingyi’s kind of mortified that Jin Ling would think they’d do that. They hadn’t even kissed until tonight. Not that Jingyi’s opposed to the idea. And now he’s thinking about it, about what it would be like to do those kinds of things with A-Yuan. Would A-Yuan want to?

He presses his lips against A-Yuan’s forehead. A-Yuan tilts his head up and kisses him again, softly, then snuggles back down against Jingyi’s chest. They still haven’t talked about what this means for their immediate futures. They need to, but Jingyi’s not going to do it in a room where the others can hear them.

A-Yuan is warm in Jingyi’s arms, and cuddly too. His hair tickles Jingyi’s neck, and Jingyi reaches up to smooth it out of the way. A-Yuan sighs softly, then tangles their feet together. A-Yuan’s feet are cold, but Jingyi doesn’t mind. He pets A-Yuan’s hair, then settles his hand on A-Yuan’s back, feeling the rhythm of his breathing as it begins to slow down.

He doesn’t want to go to sleep yet. He wants to lie here and soak it in, to absorb every detail for when he’s lying alone in his small, cold bed in the dormitory at Cloud Recesses. He wants to appreciate this while he has it. Jingyi closes his eyes, and yawns.

He wakes with the first light of dawn. That would’ve been late for him not long ago, but it’s the earliest he’s awakened in weeks. He’s going to be back in Cloud Recesses soon, though—his sleep schedule will have to adjust.

A-Yuan’s back is to him, so Jingyi shifts onto his side and curls around him. A-Yuan presses back against him, then seems to go back to sleep. Jingyi closes his eyes and breathes in the warm scent of him, tries to commit it to memory.

He’s slept with A-Yuan every night for the last couple of weeks. How will he sleep alone again, without A-Yuan’s warmth there? He has no idea how long it will be before he can have this again, but even then it will only be for a night or two at a time.

He should have appreciated this more, soaked in every moment.

He drifts back to sleep, only to be awakened by someone knocking loudly on the door a short while later. Across the room, he hears the others groan. A-Yuan rolls onto his back and yawns. So much for enjoying the moment.

There’s a large meal waiting for them when they make their way back to the banquet hall. After the meal, Sandu Shengshou tells them the last activity of the conference will be a martial arts demonstration for the gathered sect leaders and seniors. Groups will enter one member in each competition, and the group with the most wins will receive a reward.

Jin Ling leans into A-Yuan’s side, already grinning. “We’ve got this.”

They do, to no one’s surprise. Each of them wins their event decidedly, to the obvious pride of their sects. Jin Ling’s parents have arrived this morning, and both of them are beaming as they sit on the dais along with Sandu Shengshou, Jiang furen, Hanguang-jun, and Wei Wuxian.

Their reward is an invitation to return the following year as senior disciples and help teach the juniors at the second running of the conference. They bow and thank Sandu Shengshou for the honor, then return to their place in the larger group. A-Yuan bumps Jingyi’s shoulder and grins at him. Jingyi knows exactly what he’s thinking: they’re going to get to do this again, together. It’s something to look forward to.

There are a few more speeches, and then Sandu Shengshou formally announces the end of the discussion conference. All around them, the other disciples chatter, hug each other, and begin their goodbyes.

“It’s going to be quiet here when everyone leaves,” Jin Ling says, looking around.

“Are you staying here?” Zizhen asks.

“Yeah, my parents want to visit for a while.” He turns to A-Yuan. “You’re staying too, right?”

A-Yuan nods. “Ba wouldn’t miss the great Jiang sibling reunion.”

Jingyi feels a twinge of hope at that. Perhaps Hanguang-jun won’t make them leave today. Maybe he’ll want to stay and visit with the Jins as well. Maybe they’ll have a little more time.

“I think my dad will want to leave straight away,” Zizhen says with a sigh. “I really don’t want to go home.”

“Then we need to plan when we’ll all see each other again,” Jin Ling says.

He and Zizhen start brainstorming ideas.

Jingyi turns back to A-Yuan, then sees Hanguang-jun heading towards them. Jingyi’s stomach drops to approximately his knees. He smooths out his expression and turns to bow as Hanguang-jun stops next to them.

“Gather your belongings,” Hanguang-jun says. “We’ll leave shortly.”

“Already?” A-Yuan says, not even bothering to hide his distress. “But—” He cuts himself off at a stern look from Hanguang-jun. He bows too, as much to hide his face as an apology for his outburst.

“Yes, Hanguang-jun,” Jingyi says, and walks away. He’d thought they’d maybe have a few more hours, had been dreaming up a way to get A-Yuan alone one more time, but this is really it. It’s over. They’re leaving. He presses a hand against his belly, trying to calm the emotions roiling inside him.

His feet carry him to the guest house out of habit alone, and he finds himself at the door without really remembering how he got there. Once inside, it doesn’t take long for him to gather his meager belongings. He looks around the room, trying to take it in one more time. Knowing he’ll be back here should make him feel better, but it doesn’t—that’s a whole year away.

The door opens and A-Yuan rushes in. He throws his arms around Jingyi. “I don’t want you to go,” he says, voice full of emotion.

Jingyi hugs him back, buries his face in A-Yuan’s hair. “I don’t want to go.”

“I really thought he’d stay. I didn’t think this would be goodbye.” A-Yuan looks up at him, teary-eyed.

They stare at each other for a moment. Jingyi wipes a tear from his cheek with his thumb, then tucks a strand of hair behind A-Yuan’s ear. The idea of not seeing him every day, of not waking up beside him, or being able to talk to him anytime, or kiss him—Jingyi can hardly bear it. He breathes out, shaky, trying very hard not to cry.

A-Yuan leans in and kisses him, softly at first, then almost desperately. Jingyi loses himself in it for a few moments before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you,” A-Yuan says softly. “I do, I—”

“I love you too,” Jingyi says, and he means it. “Write me?”

“Every day. You’re gonna get so many letters from me, full of romantic bullshit so ridiculous you’ll be embarrassed even to read them.”

“Okay,” Jingyi says, and kisses him again. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“I’ll work on Ba. He can’t resist me when I’m super pouty. It won’t be long.”

“It already feels like forever.” Jingyi closes his eyes. “I can’t say goodbye to you. It’s too awful.”

“Then don’t say it.” A-Yuan kisses him again, a soft press of lips.

Jingyi takes a deep breath, then steps back. “I won’t.” He holds out a hand, and A-Yuan takes it.

They walk back to the main courtyard hand-in-hand, not caring who sees. Everyone probably knows, anyway—even Jin Ling figured it out before they did.

Wei Wuxian is standing next to Hanguang-jun and clearly pouting. The other Lan disciples are standing nearby, each of them looking more forlorn than the next. Jia Wanmiao and Zizhen are standing close together and speaking quietly. Jia Wanmiao wipes a tear away and nods at something Zizhen says.

Jin Ling throws himself at Jingyi with a sob, and Jingyi finally lets go of A-Yuan to hug him. “I’ll take care of him for you,” Jin Ling whispers, then lets him go.

Zizhen is next, giving Jingyi a brief, tight hug before stepping back. His father stands not far away, watching the scene with watery eyes.

A-Yuan has stepped forward to hug Hanguang-jun, so Jingyi turns to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian tilts his head and gives Jingyi a commiserating look, and that’s all it takes for Jingyi’s tears to start up again.

“I know,” Wei Wuxian says, pulling him in tightly. “It’s horrible.”

Jingyi nods and hopes he’s not getting Wei Wuxian’s robes snotty.

Sandu Shengshou has made his way over by the time Wei Wuxian releases him, and Jingyi gives him a proper bow. Sandu Shengshou makes a huffing sound and pulls Jingyi into a hug too. Jingyi laughs in surprise. This is the most number of hugs Jingyi can remember ever getting at once in his life, so it’s a little overwhelming.

When he steps back again, there’s only one person left. He and A-Yuan stare at each other, both of them trying hard not to cry. Jingyi opens his arms and A-Yuan steps in. They stay wrapped around each other as long as they dare. They’re both sniffling and streaky faced when they step back.

Hanguang-jun leads the group down to the dock in front of Lotus Pier’s main gate, where a boat waits for them. A-Yuan catches Jingyi’s hand just before he goes to get on, giving his fingers one last squeeze. The others sit at the front of the boat, huddling together miserably, but Jingyi can’t. He stands at the back and watches as they push away from the dock, watches as the water stretches out between him and A-Yuan.

The sudden stab of grief he feels nearly sends him to his knees. If he were alone, he’d dissolve into sobs, but he can’t, so he just keeps breathing, keeps watching. Everything in his body is screaming at him to stop, to go back.

He’s not going to see A-Yuan for weeks, maybe longer. He won’t hear his voice or see his smile. He can’t just tell him about his day or complain about something that annoyed him, or lean against him when they have a quiet moment. He won’t sleep curled around him tonight, and tomorrow they’ll be so far apart he can’t even bear to think about it.

Even now, he almost can’t see him anymore. A-Yuan’s figure on the dock is small in the distance. Jin Ling is leaning against him, and Wei Wuxian is standing on his other side.

The boat makes its way around a bend, and then they’re gone. Jingyi closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath.

“We’ll see them again soon,” Hanguang-jun says next to him, his voice soft. Jingyi opens his eyes. He hadn’t realized Hanguang-jun was there.

“How do you bear it?” Jingyi asks after a moment, still staring out at the water. “All these years, so many goodbyes.”

Hanguang-jun doesn’t reply, and Jingyi winces, realizing how much he’s overstepped. He turns and bows. “Hanguang-jun, this one apologizes for—”

“No need,” Hanguang-jun says. Jingyi looks up to see Hanguang-jun’s expression is tight. “I have no choice but to bear it, so I do.” He places a hand on Jingyi’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze, then turns and walks to the front of the boat.

Jingyi watches him for a moment, then sits on one of the benches at the back of the boat. The others are staring at him, but he doesn’t care. They’re all sad and missing their friends too, so no one can judge him.

Jia Wanmiao stands and crosses to sit with him. She’s quiet for a moment, then holds out a hand to him. He takes it, and they lean against each other. She lets her tears fall, and he does too, and it helps.

A short while later, he sits up straight and wipes his face. He knows he’s going to feel awful for a while, maybe even days, but if Hanguang-jun can live with it, Jingyi can too. He takes a deep breath and turns to Jia Wanmiao.

She nods, wipes her face clean with a sleeve, and shifts back into the visage of the perfect Lan disciple. She gives Jingyi a small smile. Jingyi turns to look at the other disciples and they all follow his example, straightening up before his eyes.

Jingyi looks up to the front of the boat to see Hanguang-jun watching him. He nods approvingly.

The boat sails on.

+++

Chapter Text

Jingyi is eighteen years old, and he’s trying—and failing—to be patient.

“Again,” he says, and the group of young Lan disciples gets back into position. They’re just over a handful of years younger than him, but they’re such children sometimes. He was never that undisciplined, was he? Hanguang-jun would not have allowed it.

“We’ll practice the basic forms until every single one of you has it right,” he tells them. He lets them wait for a long, silent moment, then calls out, “One.” They all raise their swords into the first position in unison. “Two.” They slice down through the air into the second position, almost perfectly. “Three.” The swords swing up over their heads, a little less perfect now, but he can tell how hard they’re trying. “Four.”

Once again, it falls apart here. A few of them actually swing their swords down in the wrong direction, barely missing the disciple next to them. Jingyi closes his eyes and takes a calming breath.

“I know you’re all adjusting to the difference it makes to wield a spiritual weapon, but these are forms you’ve known for more than a year. You should not be making these mistakes.” He stops in front of Shao Rongzhi, who looks like he’s about to cry, and nods for the boy to follow him. Shao Rongzhi swallows hard and steps out of the line. “Lan Tianjian, lead them through the sequence.”

Lan Tianjian is one of the older disciples at 13, and is the one Jingyi turns to more and more to take over when he needs to pull students aside. He nods and steps forward.

Jingyi leads Shao Rongzhi over to the back, where none of the others will be able to watch. “Show me your third form.” The boy does, and Jingyi pauses to adjust his grip on the hilt. “Not so tight, okay? Your sword should feel like an extension of you. Now, four.”

The boy screws up his face in concentration and swings the sword down in an arc. Jingyi tilts his head. “Do you favor your left hand or your right?”

Shao Rongzhi ducks his head and says, “The left.”

Jingyi hums in acknowledgment. “This movement doesn’t suit you. Reverse it.” The boys blinks up at him, confused. Jingyi stands in front of him, facing him. “Mirror me. One.”

Shao Rongzhi follows him, reversing all of the forms. His movements are stiff, his arms unused to going in this direction, but he also seems more relaxed.

“Does that feel better?” Jingyi asks.

The boy nods, but still looks troubled.

“Then that’s what I want you to work on.”

“But shixiong… shouldn’t I do it like the others? It will look strange if I’m doing it differently.”

Jingyi smiles. “How often do you think cultivators stand around and practice attacks in formation like this? The entire point of this exercise is to practice moving from one form to another so that the movements are easy when you really need to do them. Both you and your sword are fighting doing it on the right. So do it on the left until you’ve really got it. Then work on doing it both ways, and you’ll be even stronger for it.”

Shao Rongzhi nods, his expression a bit more hopeful. Jingyi resists the urge to pat him on the head.

There’s a sudden burst of whispering from the rest of the group. Jingyi turns to see them all looking over to the side of the practice field. A few of them turn back to Jingyi and grin.

He looks over to see what—or rather, who—has caught their attention. He gasps before he can stop himself, which causes the young disciples to giggle and whisper even more. He ought to scold them, but with A-Yuan standing there, a vision in dark robes trimmed with the purple of the Jiang sect, all he can do is stare in disbelief.

Jingyi is across the field and wrapping him up in a hug before he quite knows how he got there. It’s been more than a month since they last saw each other, but it might as well have been a year for the depth of longing Jingyi’s felt. Seeing him stand here now, warm and solid and real—it’s like something out of a dream.

“What are you doing here?” Jingyi asks, forcing himself to step back, to put a bit of space between them.

“It was a last-minute thing,” A-Yuan says, grinning. “Ba and Hanguang-jun—well, I should explain later.” He glances over Jingyi’s shoulder to where the group of young disciples is watching and hanging on every word.

Jingyi turns to them and waves a hand. “Keep practicing on your own. Class dismissed.” He takes A-Yuan by the hand and tugs him in the opposite direction. He hears the whispers behind them start up again, but he ignores it. He’ll reprimand them all later.

A-Yuan laughs as he’s tugged along. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.” Jingyi glances back over his shoulder to make sure none of the shidis have followed them, then pulls A-Yuan off the path and into the woods. He takes them behind a large tree, then pushes A-Yuan up against it and kisses him.

A-Yuan laughs against his mouth, then slides arms around him and pulls him in close. Jingyi’s heart is pounding in his chest. A-Yuan is here, in Cloud Recesses—he can hardly believe it! A-Yuan’s mouth opens under his and it’s just like the kisses in Jingyi’s dreams, the ones that leave him aching when he awakes in his cold bunk alone. He loses himself in the feeling of it now, loses track of time until they’re both breathless and panting.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Jingyi says when he finally pulls away. He presses his forehead against A-Yuan’s, then brushes their noses together. “I thought I’d have to wait until the night hunt.”

They’d been planning to meet up with Jin Ling and Zizhen in a couple of weeks. Jingyi has been counting down the days.

“If you’re gonna welcome me like that, I should surprise you more often.” A-Yuan sighs happily and tightens his arms around Jingyi’s waist. “Reminds me of all those night hunts when we had to sneak around, trying to make out behind trees without getting caught.”

“Yeah?” Jingyi smiles and kisses him again, lets himself melt into the memory of those days.

In that first year after the discussion conference at Lotus Pier, they’d met up for a few night hunts with Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun. Just being near each other again had been an exercise in patience and restraint. They’d taken every opportunity to sneak off together, but with only a few minutes of private time here and there, they were both continually frustrated.

On the fifth such trip, Wei Wuxian had suggested the two of them go catch fish in a nearby river. He’d been leering at Hanguang-jun while he said it, which meant he was expecting the boys to stay away for a while. It had been their first real chance to be alone together, and they’d definitely taken advantage of it.

*

“We’re hungry, boys,” Wei Wuxian said, still not looking at them. “Be good and catch us a lot of fish. Hanguang-jun and I will get a fire going.”

Jingyi and A-Yuan exchanged a sly look at that. Yeah, Jingyi imagined they would. Hanguang-jun didn’t even eat fish, but Jingyi was not about to point that out. Not with an opportunity like this.

They both tried to look as innocent as possible as they gathered their supplies and set off toward the river. The moment they were down the path and out of sight, though, they grinned at each other and took off running as fast as they could. When they reached the river’s edge, A-Yuan pulled Jingyi over to a large flat rock and pushed him to sit on it. Before Jingyi could say a word, A-Yuan climbed over his lap and straddled him.

“Wow, lucky this rock is here,” he said with a mischievous grin. “You won’t even have to get your robes dirty.”

“We’ll see about that.” Jingyi kissed that grin, then pulled A-Yuan down on top of him. It had been a long time since they’d had more than a few stolen moments, and Jingyi planned to take full advantage.

It was different like this, with A-Yuan’s weight over him, pressing him into the rock. A-Yuan kissed him with a fierceness that took Jingyi’s breath away, his hands cradling the sides of Jingyi’s face. Jingyi’s hands went everywhere he could reach, moving back and forth between A-Yuan’s shoulders and his ass, trying to get even closer. He worked one thigh between A-Yuan’s legs and arched up, finally managing to get friction against his own aching erection. A-Yuan moaned into his mouth and ground down against his thigh, and oh, yeah—they were finally going to do this.

They’d written each other so many letters over the last half a year, sweet, romantic things at first, flowery words about how much they missed each other. A few letters in, A-Yuan had confessed that he touched himself while thinking about that night in the boat house at Lotus Pier. Jingyi had read that letter twenty times, usually with a hand inside his robes. When he finally worked up the nerve to write back, he put his own fantasies on the paper, and that had started an exchange of letters so dirty that Jingyi blushed at the thought of them even now.

Now they finally had a chance to act out one of those fantasies. Jingyi wasn’t sure where even to begin.

He reached between them to adjust his cock to a more comfortable position, and at the same moment, A-Yuan rocked down into him. Jingyi’s hand was suddenly trapped between both of their erections. A-Yuan froze above him, panting into Jingyi’s mouth.

Neither of them moved for several breaths of time, just stayed there in that in-between space of touching and also not. Jingyi could pull his hand away and they could just rub off on each other through their clothes. Or he could—

Jingyi turned his hand over, slowly, and pressed his palm up against the bulge he felt there. A-Yuan whined and pressed down into Jingyi’s hand, the heat of him obvious even through the layers of fabric.

Okay, then. They were doing this.

It was honestly surreal. Jingyi knew, theoretically, that A-Yuan had a penis, one that worked the same way Jingyi’s did. He’d spent plenty of time fantasizing about what it would be like to touch it, and how A-Yuan would react, but now—wow. Jingyi held his breath as he squeezed his fingers around the shaft A-Yuan’s cock. A-Yuan hissed through his teeth, then ducked his head and hid his burning face against Jingyi’s neck.

It was so, so close to what Jingyi wanted. He tilted his head, mouth against A-Yuan’s ear and whispered, “Can I touch you for real?”

A-Yuan nodded, apparently too overwhelmed to speak.

Jingyi tugged at A-Yuan’s robes, working his hand under the layers until he finally found warm skin. He slid his hand down under the fabric of A-Yuan’s pants and finally wrapped his fingers around his hard cock.

A-Yuan whimpered at the touch and arched his hips back, making space between them. Jingyi stroked up, feeling the foreskin slide under his fingers. The tip was slick, and he tried to spread that around, like he did when he touched himself. A-Yuan’s cock felt different than his own, a little thicker, maybe, and so, so hot in his hand.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered as he stroked slowly. “I want it to feel good.”

“It does, it does,” A-Yuan said, his voice shaky, his face still pressed into Jingyi’s neck. “Like—like that, yeah, ahh—”

Jingyi stroked faster, twisting his fingers at the tip like he did when he was alone. A-Yuan’s body was tense, like he was on the edge of it. His fingers gripped Jingyi’s shoulders hard enough that Jingyi thought he might leave bruises. His breath came in shuddering gasps, hot and damp against Jingyi’s skin. He made a keening sound and pushed his hips forward into Jingyi’s hand, warm and suddenly wet, and then slumped against Jingyi, still breathing hard.

Jingyi gasped. “Oh, you—Did you just—”

A-Yuan hummed in reply, then reached down to tug at Jingyi’s wrist. “Sorry, sensitive.”

Jingyi extracted his hand carefully, trying not to wipe the mess on A-Yuan’s robes as he did. He held his hand up behind A-Yuan’s head and looked at his fingers, streaked with semen. He did that. Wow.

“Um,” A-Yuan said, and slid off to the side. His face was flushed when he looked down at Jingyi. His hair was coming loose from the high ponytail. His robes were a tangled riot where Jingyi had worked them apart.

“You’re a mess,” Jingyi said, grinning at him.

“That’s your fault,” A-Yuan replied, looking sheepish.

“Yeah, it is.” Jingyi reached out to the side to wipe his hand off on the rock before pulling A-Yuan against him again.

“So, can—can I do you?” A-Yuan looked embarrassed, which made no sense considering some of the things he’d written in his last few letters.

“Yes, please.” Jingyi unfastened the first two layers of his robes as fast as he could and looked up at A-Yuan.

A-Yuan’s expression was open, even hungry. He leaned over Jingyi and worked his hand into Jingyi’s robes.

The first touch of A-Yuan’s fingers against the sensitive skin of his cock was strange, but good. No one had ever touched Jingyi like that, and frankly, his imagination hadn’t done it justice. A-Yuan’s hand was rougher than his own, and his fingers felt different. His touch was exploratory, not singularly focused on getting Jingyi off. And of course, he didn’t know what Jingyi liked, so he was probably touching Jingyi the way he touched himself. The thought of that made Jingyi even harder.

It was odd to not be in control of it, to just experience it and chase the pleasure as it came. A-Yuan seemed to want to take his time, which was both amazing and infuriating. Jingyi finally arched up against his hand and said, “Faster, c’mon,” and A-Yuan complied, lower lip caught between his teeth. “Like that, like—yeah, yeah—” and Jingyi was suddenly close, sparks at the edge of his vision, the swell of his orgasm building, tipping over. He made more noise than he normally would when he came. He couldn’t help it, somehow.

A-Yuan was staring down at him when he opened his eyes. Jingyi suddenly understood why A-Yuan had been so shy right after. He felt weirdly vulnerable like this, with A-Yuan’s sticky hand still inside his pants, and knowing he’d probably just made a really strange face.

“Sorry,” Jingyi said, and pressed his hands over his face. His hands smelled like A-Yuan’s cock, fuck. He took a deep breath, just letting that idea settle into his brain.

“For what?” A-Yuan asked. “That was so hot.” He pulled his hand free and tugged Jingyi’s robes back into place.

“Did you just wipe your hand off in my robes?”

A-Yuan immediately looked guilty. “Um. Yes?”

“I have to wear these clothes for two more days!”

“And every time you see that stain, you’re gonna think about how it got there.” A-Yuan leaned down and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss.

“You asshole,” Jingyi said against his lips, then rolled him over, pressing him down into the rock. “You wait, I’m getting you back for that.”

“Promise?”

Jingyi had replayed that afternoon in his mind many times in the months that followed. They’d managed to catch a few fish in between a few more handjob sessions, mostly out of sheer luck. Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian hadn’t questioned their story that the fish weren’t really biting, but then, they were too interested in staring longingly at each other to notice what Jingyi and A-Yuan were up to.

*

“What are you thinking so hard about?” A-Yuan slides his arms around Jingyi’s shoulders, bringing his focus back to the present.

“That afternoon by the river, when we were supposed to be fishing.”

“Oh, right.” A-Yuan grins. “That was a good day.”

Jingyi kisses his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his cheek. He wants to put his mouth everywhere, god.

A-Yuan makes a soft sound of pleasure as Jingyi’s tongue traces the shell of his ear. “Sorry for interrupting your lesson earlier, but I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You can interrupt me anytime.”

“So you can drag me off to ravage me behind a tree? What will your shidis think?”

“They can think what they want as long as they keep it to themselves.” Jingyi leans in to nuzzle A-Yuan’s throat. “I’m probably going to have to make them all copy out the sect rules later.”

A-Yuan’s hands slide down from Jingyi’s waist to his ass. “Wanna give them something to gossip about?”

Jingyi wrinkles his nose. “I think I can find us a better place than up against a tree.”

A-Yuan’s smile edges into a smirk. “Remember what I wrote in my last letter?”

Jingyi does. He’d committed that particular suggestion to memory. He whines and buries his face in A-Yuan’s neck. “I missed you so much.”

One of A-Yuan’s hands slides up under Jingyi’s hair to stroke the back of his neck. “Me too. And as much as I want to stay right here and kiss you some more, we should go make an appearance.”

They hold hands until they’re back on the main path, where such a display would be improper. A-Yuan fills him in on the details of their visit as they walk.

“The wedding negotiations are a mess. Shufu won’t give an inch, so Ba is hoping to convince Zewu-jun to let him host the ceremony at Lotus Pier.”

“After all this time, why don’t they just elope?” Jingyi shakes his head.

“Because both of their brothers would murder them if they did.” A-Yuan sighs. “Shufu wants it to be clear that Ba is not marrying out of the Jiang sect, and obviously Hanguang-jun isn’t marrying out of the Lan sect. It’s an unusual situation and no one can agree.”

“So does that mean you’ll be here for a while?”

A-Yuan catches his hand for a brief moment and squeezes it. “Maybe more than a while. I’ve been talking to Hanguang-jun about studying qin with him for the winter.”

Jingyi’s heart is suddenly in his throat. He stops and tugs A-Yuan’s hand, pulling him closer. “Really?” The idea of it, of A-Yuan being here for that long, of Jingyi getting to see him every day—he can hardly believe it.

A-Yuan nods, beaming. “I’m going to have to get used to living with all these rules, but it’ll be worth it.”

Jingyi wants to hug him, to kiss him again, but he’s going to have to play this very safe if A-Yuan will be staying. Of course, if he sees A-Yuan every day, maybe he won’t be so desperate to devour him on the spot every time he sees him. Maybe.

“We’ll have to get good at sneaking around.” He gives in to the temptation to tuck an errant strand of hair behind A-Yuan’s ear. A-Yuan leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

“C’mon,” A-Yuan says, pulling him back toward the main area of the compound. “Hanguang-jun did actually send me to fetch you.”

Jingyi smiles at the thought of that, of Hanguang-jun intentionally giving them an opportunity to greet each other privately, away from the judgment and eyes of the rest of the sect.

They make their way to the main meeting hall of Cloud Recesses, where Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun are seated along with Zewu-jun and a few of the sect elders.

Jingyi and A-Yuan bow properly before kneeling near the back of the room. The conversation is stilted and difficult to follow, and Jingyi promptly zones out. If anything important is said, A-Yuan will fill him in, anyway.

He thinks instead about how they might manage to spend some time together. A-Yuan has come to visit Cloud Recesses twice before, and both times he’d stayed in the dormitory with the other disciples. That meant they’d had to sneak off at odd times to get some privacy. They hadn’t got caught by any of the other disciples, but Jingyi was on the receiving end of enough knowing looks to know they weren’t as discreet as they could have been. Maybe they can arrange to go off on a night hunt together every now and then, something that will allow them an occasional overnight stay at an inn.

The first time they’d been able to spend a night alone together was at an inn, so Jingyi is in favor, for sure.

*

The summer after that afternoon by the river, Hanguang-jun and Jingyi had met up with Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan in a town to the north. They were there to investigate a series of hauntings in a nearby village. It had been a long travel day, so Hanguang-jun suggested they get rooms in one of the town’s nicer inns and head to the village in the morning.

A-Yuan and Jingyi exchanged a quick, excited glance. They’d hugged each other briefly when they first saw each other, but that was all they’d allowed themselves. They’d both hoped for a chance to sneak off together later, but this? A whole night together, alone? Jingyi hadn’t dared hope for so much.

He didn’t want to do anything to screw up the opportunity, so he smoothed out his expression and straightened his posture, trying to keep his excitement in check. He turned a very placid face back to nod at Hanguang-jun. Hanguang-jun was looking at Wei Wuxian, though, who was smiling back at him in a way that left very little of what he was thinking to the imagination.

Jingyi turned back to A-Yuan, who rolled his eyes. Jingyi only barely stopped himself from laughing out loud.

The four of them ate at a table near the back of the inn’s main floor. Their conversation flowed easily from details of the haunting they would investigate tomorrow to news from their respective sects. Wei Wuxian had finally agreed to move back to Lotus Pier now that the Wens had been fully relocated. A-Yuan had joined him there too, and Sandu Shengshou was apparently very smug about it. Jingyi knew from A-Yuan’s last letter that he was pleased to be there and to see his father so happily reunited with his brother at long last.

Jingyi had questions, of course. He was more than a little jealous that Peng Wangshu got to spend more time with A-Yuan than he did, but that was a topic for later.

The innkeeper came over to let Hanguang-jun know their rooms were ready. “You’re lucky,” the innkeeper told them. “Those were the last two rooms. There’s a festival tonight and many people come to this town to enjoy it.”

A-Yuan nudged Jingyi’s knee with his own: they both knew what was coming next.

“A festival,” Wei Wuxian said, looking over at A-Yuan and Jingyi. “I imagine you two will have a lot of fun.”

“Are you coming too?” A-Yuan asked with a great deal of put-upon innocence.

Wei Wuxian grinned and turned to Hanguang-jun. “Oh, I’m sure I will.”

Jingyi choked on the sip of tea he’d just taken. Next to him, A-Yuan swore softly.

Hanguang-jun didn’t seem bothered by this comment in the least. Jingyi had long since learned he was immune to embarrassment when it came to Wei Wuxian’s lascivious sense of humor. Hanguang-jun handed Jingyi and A-Yuan money, never taking his eyes off of Wei Wuxian.

“I guess we’ll go see what this festival has to offer.” A-Yuan said, standing. He bowed politely to Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Jingyi followed him out onto the street. The sun had just set and the main road through the center of the town was lit with lanterns. There were people everywhere, shopping, eating, drinking, and greeting each other. It was a lively scene, one Jingyi would have been thrilled to explore under other circumstances.

“One round should do it,” A-Yuan said, nodding toward the festivities.

“I hope so,” Jingyi replied. He leaned in close enough to whisper, “Or I could drag you off behind that building.”

“I have higher expectations for tonight.” A-Yuan smirked at him, then tugged at Jingyi’s sleeve. “C’mon.”

They walked down the street, looking at the market stalls and ignoring the curious looks the locals gave them. Jingyi was used to being stared at when he walked with Hanguang-jun—cultivators stood out in a crowd like this—but he was still getting used to being on the receiving end of those startled and admiring glances on his own.

They stopped at a stall selling local liquor and were given enough free samples to try that they hardly needed to make a purchase. They bought a few bottles in the end, tucking them away for later, and continued on.

At the end of the street they turned and started making their way back to the inn. Jingyi had to resist the impulse to walk faster. Just knowing that once they got there, they could finally be alone for an entire night—Jingyi felt a shiver deep in his belly at the very idea.

He turned to A-Yuan and they exchanged a quick, heated glance, like they were both thinking the same thing. That was enough send a frisson of want down Jingyi’s spine. They’d barely touched, and he was already about to crawl out of his skin from anticipation. He was going to wind up with a very inconvenient erection at this rate. He took a deep, calming breath and forced himself to look away.

A-Yuan chose that very moment to brush his shoulder against Jingyi’s, then stroked one finger across the back of Jingyi’s hand. Jingyi felt it in his toes.

He made a strangled sound.

“What?” A-Yuan asked, his tone innocent. “Is something wrong?”

Fuck. “I want you so badly right now,” Jingyi whispered. He couldn’t even look at A-Yuan, kept his gaze focused on the strings of lanterns along the street.

“Hmm, really?” Even through his whisper, Jingyi could hear the tease in his tone. “What do you want to do to me?”

What didn’t he want? Oh, this was a bad idea. They should wait until they were behind closed doors. Jingyi made the mistake of looking at A-Yuan then, of seeing the teasing smile on his lips. A-Yuan stared right at him and wet his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Right there, in the middle of the street, with people all around.

Fine. Two could play at this game. Jingyi leaned closer and cupped a hand around A-Yuan’s ear, just for a bit more privacy. “First I want your cock in my mouth.”

A-Yuan made a soft sound and put a hand over his mouth. His ears had been pink before, but now even his cheeks joined in the flush. He took a calming breath, straightened his robes and seemed to be struggling to keep his focus on the street before them. “Okay. Right. Why don’t we—” He gestured in the direction of the inn.

“Yeah,” Jingyi said, suddenly very glad for the drape of his robes.

Both of them walked a little faster now, doing their best to avoid catching the eyes of the merchants hawking their wares.

Jingyi’s anticipation mounted the closer they got to the door of the inn. He was desperate to hold A-Yuan, to kiss him, to get his hands on him. To peel off the layers he was wearing and finally get to see what was underneath. Not that he’d never seen A-Yuan naked, but he hadn’t since they’d started this, and it was all he could think about right now. Arousal had been a constant thrum under his skin since the moment they’d arrived, and if he couldn’t touch A-Yuan soon, he thought he might burst.

“Let me look,” A-Yuan said. He peered through the doorway, his fingers trailing down the length of Jingyi’s arm.

Jingyi whimpered—that touch alone sent shivers through him, like his nerves were on fire.

A-Yuan turned back to Jingyi. “I don’t see them.”

They wound their way through the inn’s main room and toward the stairs at the back. The tables were full, but there was no sign of Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun. Jingyi was pretty sure they’d headed upstairs right after he and A-Yuan had left. He understood the feeling, to be honest.

A-Yuan spotted the innkeeper and crossed over to him. “Laoban,” he said, and bowed as polite and proper as if he’d grown up in Cloud Recesses, then inquired about their room.

“Surely young masters such as yourselves will want to enjoy the festival tonight?” the innkeeper said, looking back and forth between them. He gave them a conspiratorial grin. “There are many lovely young ladies in this town. Might I suggest—”

“Oh!” A-Yuan said, and doubled over, clutching at his stomach. “Apologies, but this one isn’t feeling well. My friend offered to bring me back and let me rest a while.”

“Should I call a doctor?” The innkeeper asked, looking very concerned now. “My jiefu's neighbor's cousin is a very esteemed healer, and—”

“No, no thank you.” A-Yuan straightened up enough to lean his head on Jingyi’s shoulder. “I just need to rest.” He was very convincing. Jingyi had seen him do this kind of thing before, but never quite so well.

“Our room?” Jingyi asked. He looped an arm around A-Yuan.

“Yes, of course,” the innkeeper replied. “This way.” He led them upstairs and opened the door of the room for them. “Should I send up some tea?”

“I just need to rest,” A-Yuan said, a bit too dramatically.

“He’ll be fine,” Jingyi told the innkeeper as he helped A-Yuan through the door.

The innkeeper still looked worried, but he nodded as they slid the door closed.

“I cannot believe you—” Jingyi said, but was cut off by A-Yuan’s mouth against his. His arms were full of A-Yuan and A-Yuan’s tongue was in his mouth and A-Yuan’s hands were on his ass, and Jingyi completely forgot what he was going to say.

A-Yuan walked Jingyi backwards until they tumbled down onto the bed together. Jingyi took full advantage of the position, pulling A-Yuan down on top of him. That weight pressing him into the bed was glorious, even better than he’d been fantasizing about. A-Yuan’s hands were everywhere, somehow, caressing his neck then his chest and then pressing against his rapidly hardening cock. Jingyi arched up into his hand, then whined as A-Yuan pressed a knee between Jingyi’s thighs and gave him something to rut against. This was the way they usually did it: clothes on, quick and rough, before they got caught. It was good, but it wasn’t quite what Jingyi had in mind tonight.

“Wait,” Jingyi said, turning his head out of the kiss.

A-Yuan made a quizzical sound and looked down at him. His mouth was red and wet, and his eyes dark. He looked as dazed as Jingyi felt.

“I really wanted to do this naked.” Jingyi pushed lightly against his shoulders. “Before we just rub off on each other like usual.”

“Oh, right.” A-Yuan rolled to the side and Jingyi stood, reaching for the ties on his outer robes.

A-Yuan watched for a moment before standing and peeling out of his own layers too. Jingyi tried to take his time, or at least go slowly enough that he could properly fold and arrange his clothes for tomorrow. He was down to his inner robe and pants when A-Yuan stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait, can you—I mean, I kind of want to take something off you.” He ducked his head the moment the words came out of his mouth.

“Yes,” Jingyi said, stepping closer to him with a sly grin. “And when you’ve got me naked, what do you want to do with me?”

“Aaahhh.” A-Yuan’s ears were very red. “I don’t know.”

“Are you seriously embarrassed right now?” Jingyi tilted his face up with a finger under his chin. “After all the letters you wrote, full of all the dirty things you wanted to do?”

A-Yuan groaned and pressed his face into Jingyi’s neck. “It feels different being here, with you. It was easy to write that stuff down, but saying it—”

Jingyi wrapped his arms around A-Yuan’s shoulders. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to, I promise.” A-Yuan shifted his hips against Jingyi’s thigh. “Can’t you tell?”

Jingyi could indeed tell. “All right,” he said, and kissed the exposed skin on A-Yuan’s neck. He pushed back the fabric of A-Yuan’s inner robe, exposing his shoulders, then kissed there too. He slid the robe off of him and let it pool on the floor, then reached down to untie the pants. Those dropped to the floor, and A-Yuan kicked them aside.

Jingyi took a step back then, enough to get a good view of A-Yuan in the dim light. He was shorter than Jingyi, but broader in the shoulders. He’d filled out since they were kids—living in Lotus Pier was clearly doing him a lot of good.

Jingyi let his gaze drop lower, down to where A-Yuan’s cock was hard and jutting out from his body. Jingyi’d had it in his hand before, but hadn’t actually seen it up close.

He didn’t even stop to think before going to his knees.

“Oh, you—” A-Yuan said, then gasped as Jingyi pressed his forehead against A-Yuan’s belly.

“I said I wanted to suck you,” Jingyi said, and looked up at him. “Please?”

A-Yuan nodded, a little shaky.

Jingyi squinted up at him. “Don’t look so shocked. You’re the one who sent that story.” It had been copied diligently from a book of pornography, and the details had been very specific when it came to this act. Jingyi had jerked off to that for weeks.

“I know, I just—” A-Yuan groaned, pressing his hands over his face. “How are you so calm about this? I’m freaking out.”

“I just really want to do it.” Jingyi leaned in to kiss the soft skin of A-Yuan’s belly. “I’ve thought about it so much. I want to know what you taste like.” He shifted lower, letting his cheek brush against A-Yuan’s cock. The skin there was soft and blood-hot, and Jingyi’s mouth watered. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” A-Yuan whispered. One hand slid around to the back of Jingyi’s head, tugging slightly at the forehead ribbon. “But first, can I?”

“Take it off me.” Jingyi sat back on his heels. It wasn’t the first time A-Yuan had touched it, but it was the first time for this.

A-Yuan fumbled with the knot, then pulled the ribbon free. He held it between his fingers for a moment, feeling the soft weave of it, before handing it to Jingyi.

“Keep it for me,” Jingyi said, and wrapped it around A-Yuan’s wrist. He tied a knot that he knew A-Yuan wouldn’t be able to undo without help—partly to make sure it didn’t come off accidentally, but mostly to satisfy a bizarre urge to mark A-Yuan as his.

The gesture seemed to have calmed A-Yuan’s nerves. He slid his hand back around Jingyi’s head, then wrapped his fingers around Jingyi’s ponytail. He smiled and pulled Jingyi’s head toward him. Jingyi opened his mouth and let A-Yuan feed him his cock.

It was a weird feeling at first—his mouth was fuller than he’d expected, his jaw stretched open—but also a good feeling. He was surrounded by the smell of him, the taste of him, and it was incredibly hot. He wriggled his tongue against the underside of A-Yuan’s cock, and A-Yuan gasped. Jingyi sucked, pulling back slowly until the head was sitting just inside his lips, and the gasp became a moan.

“Oh, that—Xiao Yi, you—”

Keeping his teeth out of the way took some practice, as did coordinating the movement with his breathing. He paused when his jaw started to really ache, and A-Yuan took the opportunity to get them both back to the bed. He also made Jingyi strip for him, which Jingyi did with as much fanfare as he could manage.

“Why are you like this?” A-Yuan said, laughing.

“You love it.” Jingyi climbed onto the bed and leaned down over him. He licked across the head of A-Yuan’s cock without breaking eye contact.

A-Yuan made a strangled sound and put his hands over his face. Jingyi took that as his signal to continue.

He liked it better like this: he could control the movement more and focus on what A-Yuan seemed to like. He’d imagined this act would just be a lot of head bobbing with suction, like in the story, but A-Yuan’s breathing hitched when Jingyi used his tongue, so he tried to find ways to keep doing that. A-Yuan’s cock was a slick mess of spit now, and that made it easy to stroke him with one hand while sucking at the head, a combination that made A-Yuan’s hands clench at the bedding around him.

He didn’t have to warn Jingyi when he came—it was clear in the way his body tightened and his back arched. Jingyi hadn’t really thought about how this would finish, so he didn’t back off, letting A-Yuan come in his mouth. That was another weird experience, but he made himself swallow it all down before he could think too hard about it.

He kissed the inside of A-Yuan’s thigh, then his knee. A-Yuan was boneless on the bed at the moment, one arm thrown over his eyes. His breathing had calmed, but he was covered with a sheen of sweat now. Jingyi slid a hand up his chest, just to feel it.

“Xiao Yi,” A-Yuan said, and reached for him. Jingyi let himself be settled alongside him, head pillowed on his shoulder. “Give me a moment.”

“All the moments you need.” Jingyi kissed his temple, then his cheek. A-Yuan turned his head and kissed his mouth, darting his tongue between Jingyi’s lips. He pulled back a moment later, eyes narrowed.

“Is that what it tastes like?”

“Mn. You should find out for yourself.” Jingyi raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Come here.” A-Yuan rolled him over onto his back, then kissed his way down Jingyi’s chest. The closer he got to Jingyi’s cock, the slower he went, until Jingyi whined in protest.

“Something you need?” A-Yuan asked, mouthing at Jingyi’s hip now.

“You’re so mean.”

“Poor baby.” Jingyi felt him grin against his skin. A-Yuan wrapped his hand around the shaft of Jingyi’s cock and gave it a stroke. It wasn’t quite what he wanted, but it was still good.

A-Yuan teased him a bit more, then finally took Jingyi’s cock in his mouth. It was soft and wet and hot, and even better than Jingyi had imagined. He wanted this to last a long time, but he also wanted to come right now. He’d been turned on for what seemed like hours, and anticipating this for weeks.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes, in the end. A-Yuan didn’t pull off when Jingyi came, though he made a face afterward like he regretted that choice. Jingyi laughed at him and told him to just swallow and get it over with.

“I wish we’d said yes to the tea now.” A-Yuan settled between Jingyi’s thighs again and planted a few soft kisses on his now-soft cock. Jingyi gritted his teeth—it was just on the edge of too much, though A-Yuan was gentle. He pushed Jingyi’s thighs apart and just looked. It was weird and a tiny bit uncomfortable, but Jingyi didn’t protest. No one had ever gotten this close a look at this particular area of his body. He felt A-Yuan’s fingers against his balls, touching lightly, then moving behind them to trace around his asshole.

“What are you—”

“Just playing,” A-Yuan said and pulled his fingers away. He kissed Jingyi’s cock again, soft and dry, then took it gently back into his mouth.

Jingyi exhaled, hummed softly. He wasn’t sure he would be able to get hard again that fast, but if A-Yuan wanted to keep his mouth there until it happened, Jingyi was fine with that. A-Yuan’s mouth was wet and warm, and he was sucking lightly, just enough that Jingyi could feel it.

A few minutes later, he was half hard again. “Don’t stop,” he told A-Yuan, breathless now. “Keep doing that, just like that.”

A few hours later, they lay curled around each other, still naked under the light blanket. Jingyi had come three times, and he was pretty sure he could go again if A-Yuan wanted to. He was also tired though, and sleeping next to A-Yuan was something he hadn’t been able to do properly since the conference at Lotus Pier. And never like this: naked, limbs intertwined, hands roaming on each other’s skin.

Jingyi reached for A-Yuan’s hand and found his wrist instead, the one with Jingyi’s ribbon wrapped around it. He traced the lines of the ribbon with his fingertips.

“Was it what you expected?”

A-Yuan hummed softly. “Even better.”

“Even though we didn’t—” Jingyi hesitated. “Do you want to do that?”

“Maybe sometime. But what we did was amazing.”

“Mmm, it was. Especially that thing you did with your tongue on my—”

A-Yuan put a hand over his mouth. “Xiao Yi!”

Jingyi pushed it away. “How is it embarrassing if I say it? You did it!”

“I don’t know, it just is!”

Jingyi shook his head. “Fine, I won’t say it as long as you do it again.”

“Okay.” A-Yuan pressed his face into Jingyi’s neck.

“Soon?”

A-Yuan whimpered, and Jingyi laughed.

“I can do it to you, if you want.”

“Okay.” A-Yuan mumbled into his neck.

“Wanna sleep for a while?”

“Mmn. I want to do it again though.”

“Wake me up.” Jingyi kissed his forehead and snuggled down against him. It was just cool enough in the room now that it felt good to be skin-to-skin like this, rather than sticky. Though they were a little sticky too. Maybe more than a little.

Dawn was just peeking through the windows when Jingyi next opened his eyes. Mao shi—he always woke up on time. He didn’t have to get up now, though. He doubted Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian would be rising this early.

Next to him, A-Yuan was sound asleep. His eyelashes were dark against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. His hair had come loose from its usual high ponytail and fanned over the pillow behind him.

Jingyi couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing his forehead, then the tip of his nose. A-Yuan didn’t stir, so Jingyi snuggled back in again.

The room was brighter when he next awoke. A-Yuan was climbing over him to get out of bed. Jingyi whined and pulled him back down again.

“Gotta pee,” A-Yuan said. “I’ll be right back.”

Jingyi turned onto his side to watch him walk across the room, still naked from the night before. A-Yuan pissed into the chamberpot, then stretched his arms over his head. The muscles in his back and his ass flexed as he did, and Jingyi felt a familiar jolt of arousal deep in his belly.

He got up and crossed to use the chamberpot too, pausing to give A-Yuan a quick kiss along the way. When he got back to the bed, A-Yuan was lying there with his thighs splayed, already half-hard. He smiled up at Jingyi.

“Good morning,” Jingyi said, and settled on top of him.

Both their mouths were sour-tasting first thing in the morning, but neither of them cared. They made out for a while, kissing deeply, hands moving over each other. When Jingyi shifted his hips and pressed his cock against the crease of A-Yuan’s hip, A-Yuan arched up against him, groaning. They rocked against each other like that for a while, sweet and lazy.

Finally A-Yuan reached between their bodies to stroke them both together. It was slow until it wasn’t, both of them suddenly desperate for it. A-Yuan focused his strokes on Jingyi’s cock, sliding the foreskin up and over the head roughly until Jingyi spilled all over his fist.

Jingyi panted against A-Yuan’s neck for a minute, then shifted down to take A-Yuan’s cock into his mouth. A-Yuan gasped and thrust up, and oh—that was hot, even more than Jingyi would have expected. He reached for A-Yuan’s hand and put it on the back of his head, hoping A-Yuan would take the hint. A-Yuan pushed up into his mouth again, experimentally, and Jingyi made a soft sound of satisfaction.

“Oh,” A-Yuan said, and did it again. “Xiao Yi, you—”

Neither of them said much after that. It was weird to let A-Yuan be in control of it like this, but also good in a way Jingyi couldn’t really articulate. He listened to A-Yuan’s breathing, to his little gasps, felt the soft-hardness of him against his tongue, and let his mind go blissfully blank. A-Yuan was quiet when he came, but intensely so, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut, like he was trying very hard not to make a sound.

Jingyi snuggled up against his shoulder after, listening to his heartbeat slow down again.

A-Yuan kissed his forehead. “You’re so good at that.”

“I had a lot of time to think about it.” Jingyi smiled against the warm skin under his lips, then opened his mouth to gently bite. He licked at the spot he bit, relishing the slightly-salty taste of A-Yuan’s skin. “Nnngghh. Is it weird that I kind of want to eat you?”

A-Yuan snickered. “You can put any part of me you want in your mouth. I’m here to be consumed.”

“All my dirty fantasies are gonna come true, then.”

A-Yuan slid his fingers into Jingyi’s hair. “Want to—”

There was a knock at the door of their room.

They looked at each other, the same question on their faces: who would be knocking on their door at this hour?

“The innkeeper?” Jingyi asked, “coming to check on you?”

“Huh. Probably.” A-Yuan nudged Jingyi with one shoulder. “You go.”

“Why me?”

“Because I’m supposed to be sick.” He faked a cough, and Jingyi gave him an unimpressed look. “Besides, you’re closer to the door.”

Another knock.

A-Yuan pouted. It was very effective on Jingyi, and A-Yuan knew it.

“Fine,” Jingyi said with a sigh, and rolled off the bed. He plucked his inner robe from the floor and wrapped it around himself.

He slid the door open just enough to peer through it. On the other side, looking slightly rumpled himself, was Wei Wuxian.

“Wei-qianbei!” Jingyi panicked and jerked the door open further. At Wei Wuxian’s look of surprise, he forced a smile onto his face and tried again with a serene, “Ah, good morning.” He bowed awkwardly, holding the robe closed with one hand. He was suddenly aware of how very undressed he was.

“Good morning,” Wei Wuxian replied, clearly perplexed by this odd behavior. “The innkeeper said A-Yuan was ill last night. I just came by to check on him.”

Behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath as A-Yuan scrambled to get up and dressed.

“Ahhhh.” Jingyi had no idea what to say to that. He was incapable of lying to someone senior, especially to someone he respected so much.

Wei Wuxian seemed to interpret his silence to mean something was wrong. His expression shifted to one of genuine worry. “Is he all right? A-Yuan?”

“Good morning, Ba!” A-Yuan said, smiling sweetly as he appeared over Jingyi’s shoulder. He slid the door open enough to step forward and stand next to him. “I’m fine, no reason to worry.”

Wei Wuxian stared at both of them, his expression suddenly, starkly unreadable. His gaze flitted over both their faces, hesitated at A-Yuan’s hand on the door, then shifted to the ceiling. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again before he managed a strangled-sounding, “Ah. Um.”

Jingyi had never in his life seen Wei Wuxian at a loss for words. He turned to A-Yuan, and—oh.

A-Yuan was wearing Jingyi’s inner robe. In Jingyi’s haste to answer the door, he’d apparently put on A-Yuan’s instead. It was clear that this was the only thing either of them was wearing. Their hair was a general mess and A-Yuan had a clear mark from Jingyi’s mouth low on his throat. On top of all that, Jingyi’s forehead ribbon peeked out from A-Yuan’s sleeve where he braced his hand on the door.

It could not be more obvious what they’d just been doing.

“Well,” Wei Wuxian said, seemingly unable to look at either of them. He took a step back. “You’re not sick at all. You—you’re—oh, wow.” He forced a laugh, his eyes looking a little wild. He closed them and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, they were firmly fixed on the wall right next to the open door. A very fake smile spread over his face. “So. Breakfast. Get dressed and—come downstairs.”

“Baba,” A-Yuan said, his tone pleading.

Wei Wuxian held up a hand. “Just—we’ll talk over breakfast. You—” He pressed his lips together and forced himself to look up at A-Yuan. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Wei Wuxian sighed and said, “Breakfast. Now.” He turned and walked away.

Jingyi watched until he disappeared into another room down the hall.

“Shit,” A-Yuan whispered.

Jingyi slid the door closed and turned to look at him. His face looked stunned, almost pale with terror. “Hey,” Jingyi said, reaching for him.

A-Yuan took a step back, away from Jingyi, and wrapped his arms around himself. “He was so upset just now.” He looked up at Jingyi. “They know we—that we’re—what if they forbid us from seeing each other again?”

Jingyi’s stomach sank. The idea of not seeing A-Yuan again, of being forbidden to be near him, was too horrible to imagine. Surely Hanguang-jun wouldn’t be so cruel? More likely was that they wouldn’t be allowed to be alone together anymore, which was terrible too, but they could live with it.

They had been foolish, thinking they could keep sneaking around. Jingyi knew, of course, that sexual relationships outside of marriage were forbidden in the Lan sect. The fact that Hanguang-jun didn’t follow that rule himself had given Jingyi a false sense of security, that maybe it was like the rules around drinking alcohol—most disciples broke that one when outside of Cloud Recesses.

Ironically, Jingyi had always been the one to make sure he and A-Yuan followed the rules. His moral compass was the one that had guided them both all these years, but when it came to this, he’d ignored it completely. He was going to be punished severely, and he deserved it.

A-Yuan’s expression had shifted to full-on panic now. “Xiao Yi, I don’t—I can’t—”

Jingyi stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. “I know. I—” He hesitated, took a deep breath. “Look, we’re basically adults. They can’t keep us from ever seeing each other again. Even if we have to wait, even if we can’t see each other again soon, we can still—” A-Yuan’s eyes were wet now, like he was on the verge of tears. “Hey. I love you. Okay? They can’t forbid us from loving each other.”

A-Yuan nodded and kissed him. It was a salty kiss, full of emotion. Jingyi held him tightly and kissed him back with all of his heart.

“I love you,” A-Yuan whispered when they parted. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” Jingyi tipped his forehead against A-Yuan’s. “If he was that angry, he would’ve demanded you leave the room with him right then.”

“He just hadn’t had enough time to think about it. And Hanguang-jun—what will he say?”

“I don’t know.”

They stayed like that, breathing together for as long as they dared.

When they finally made their way downstairs, Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian were already eating breakfast. Jingyi paused at the table to bow and greet them both properly. After a moment’s hesitation, A-Yuan did the same. Wei Wuxian raised his eyebrows at Hanguang-jun, whose lips twitched slightly in response.

Jingyi wasn’t going to even try to interpret that. He sat at the table and tried to look as polite and unassuming as possible. A-Yuan sat too, making sure to put a respectable distance between them. Jingyi hated this already.

Wei Wuxian looked at them both for a moment, then reached into his sleeve and pulled out a talisman. He flourished it over their heads, and Jingyi felt a bubble of silence settle around their table. He swallowed—apparently Wei Wuxian didn’t want anyone to overhear the scolding that was about to happen.

“So,” Wei Wuxian said after a long, tense pause. “How long has this”—he waved a hand between the two of them—”been going on?”

Jingyi kept his head bowed, unable even to look up at him.

“Since Lotus Pier,” A-Yuan said softly.

“Of course.” Wei Wuxian sighed, and Jingyi couldn’t tell whether it was from disappointment or something else. “I can’t believe you knew, Lan Zhan, and you didn’t tell me!”

Jingyi heard A-Yuan’s inhale at that.

There was the soft clink of a tea cup being set on the table. “I assumed they would tell us when they were ready.”

“How, though? How did you see this when I didn’t?”

“Wei Ying is often not very observant.” There was a hint of a teasing tone in Hanguang-jun’s voice. “They pine for each other when apart, and stare longingly at each other when together, and sneak off to be alone at every opportunity. It was obvious.”

Jingyi was certain his ears were very red now. They’d thought they were being discreet all those times, but apparently not much had escaped Hanguang-jun’s notice.

“Not to me! I mean, I knew they were close, but I didn’t know they were—” Wei Wuxian gestured vaguely at the two of them, clearly only barely restraining himself from saying fucking. If he had done, Jingyi would’ve crawled under the table. Wei Wuxian sighed. “Well, you two, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

Jingyi and A-Yuan exchanged a glance. They hadn’t discussed what to say. They hadn’t assumed they’d be given an opportunity to speak.

Jingyi took a deep breath, then stood and bowed deeply. “This one apologizes for his inappropriate behavior, and will accept whatever punishment is—”

“Aiya, you misunderstand,” Wei Wuxian said. “Jingyi, sit down.”

Jingyi looked at Hanguang-jun, who nodded at him. Jingyi sat again, completely flustered. He had no idea what they wanted to hear.

Wei Wuxian leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Answer this: are you just fooling around, or are you serious about each other?”

Jingyi glanced over at A-Yuan, startled.

“Very serious,” A-Yuan replied. “Ba, please.”

“You’ve made each other promises, haven’t you?” Wei Wuxian’s gaze flicked up to Jingyi’s forehead ribbon, now back in its customary place.

A-Yuan’s fingers twitched, like he was restraining himself from reaching for Jingyi’s hand. “Yes.”

Jingyi nodded, still too afraid to speak.

Wei Wuxian turned to Hanguang-jun. “Well?”

Hanguang-jun looked thoughtful. “This could solve the problem of the letters.”

The letters? Jingyi felt a twist of panic in his chest. Had someone intercepted their letters? Those were private, very private, and if anyone else had read them—

“What letters?” A-Yuan asked. His fists clenched against his thighs.

“Xiongzhang has received several letters of interest in Jingyi,” Hanguang-jun replied.

There was a pause. “Interest?” Jingyi repeated.

“It seems you made a great impression on many young women at the discussion conference at Lotus Pier. Several sects have sent letters offering female disciples—and in one case, a sect leader’s daughter—as marriage prospects.”

“Marriage?” A-Yuan looked horrified.

“For me?” Jingyi felt dizzy. It had never occurred to him that anyone would be interested in him like that. He didn’t want to marry a girl he barely knew! He couldn’t bear even the thought of it. He looked up at Hanguang-jun, unable to keep the terror out of his expression.

Hanguang-jun held up a hand. “The Lan sect does not use marriage for political purposes, nor does it force marriage on its own cultivators against their will. Xiongzhang has yet to respond to any of the letters, and fully intends to decline their offers when he does.”

Jingyi exhaled, nodding. The panic in his chest started to subside.

“Okay,” A-Yuan said. “Good.”

“Jiang Cheng has received a few letters for you too,” Wei Wuxian said with a wry smile. “Why they wouldn’t ask me, I have no idea.” At A-Yuan’s astonished face he continued, “I know, it’s improper! I’m your father, after all. Anyway, Jiang Cheng burned them all and didn’t bother replying. He said he wouldn’t even insult you by mentioning them, since you—” His eyes widened. “Wait, does he know too? Am I the only one who didn’t?” He leaned back, pouting. “Honestly, my own son, in love and hiding it from me! I’m hurt, A-Yuan.”

A-Yuan’s mouth opened and closed again, as if he had no idea how to respond to any of that.

Wei Wuxian turned back to Hanguang-jun. “So, Lan Zhan, what is your solution to this problem of sect leaders wanting to marry these boys off?”

“Perhaps it would help if they were betrothed.” Hanguang-jun paused to pour tea for Wei Wuxian.

“Of course!” Wei Wuxian’s face lit up. “Then they would both be unavailable. It’s an easy, acceptable explanation, and everyone’s happy.”

“I will ask Xiongzhang when we return,” Hanguang-jun said. “I’m certain he will approve.”

“Jiang Cheng will too. Ah, he’s going to be so smug about this.” Wei Wuxian shook his head, then raised his eyebrows at A-Yuan. “Well, is this acceptable to the two of you?”

Jingyi was unable to speak, unable even to believe what he’d just heard. Betrothed?

“Betrothed to—to whom?” A-Yuan asked. His tone was tentative, hopeful.

Wei Wuxian laughed. “To each other, of course! Why would you be promised to someone you’re not already sleeping with?”

Jingyi flushed at that, but A-Yuan leaned forward, hands on the table. “Do you mean it?” he asked, his voice full of emotion. “We—that we’re—we can—”

“You’ve already made promises to each other, clearly. I know how sacred the Lan ribbon is.” He winked at Jingyi, who felt the weight of Hanguang-jun’s gaze on him. “We just need to make it official.”

A-Yuan gasped, then was around the table in a flash, burying his face in Wei Wuxian’s neck.

Wei Wuxian wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “My little radish. All grown up.”

A-Yuan pulled away, bright-eyed. “Ba, thank you. And Hanguang-jun—” A-Yuan leaned over Wei Wuxian’s lap to throw his arms around Hanguang-jun. Hanguang-jun looked amused, even a little touched.

Jingyi hung back, emotions brimming in his chest. He’d come down the stairs certain he was going to lose A-Yuan, and to have this offered to them instead—he didn’t completely believe it was real.

A-Yuan settled next to him again, sitting close enough this time that their knees pressed together. He took Jingyi’s hand in his, smiling widely.

They weren’t going to be punished. They weren’t going to be forbidden to see each other. They were promised to each other now, for real. It was astonishing, but it was happening. A-Yuan squeezed his hand, and Jingyi turned to smile at him. He wished he could hug him, but they’d already been given so much this morning. He didn’t want to push his luck by making even more of a scene.

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said with a sigh. “Our baby’s all grown up.”

“Mn.” Hanguang-jun’s expression was as outwardly controlled as ever, but Jingyi could see the happiness just underneath it.

Despite the fact that Jingyi had broken half a dozen Lan sect rules in the last handful of shi, Hanguang-jun was, inexplicably, happy for him and A-Yuan. Jingyi couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

“We should stay here again tonight,” Wei Wuxian said. “If the night hunt goes well, maybe we can find another case nearby to solve, and stay a few days.” He reached for Hanguang-jun’s hand and gave him a syrupy-sweet smile. “I’m sure these two would appreciate not having to sneak off into the forest to be together for a few more nights. And I wouldn’t complain either.”

Hanguang-jun brought Wei Wuxian’s hand to his lips and kissed the palm. “Whatever Wei Ying wishes.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile shifted, and the two of them communicated something without speaking. It felt intimate to watch, so much that Jingyi had to look away. He looked at A-Yuan instead, who wore a calculating expression.

“Does that mean,” A-Yuan began, then paused a moment, waiting until Wei Wuxian turned to look at him. “That we—Jingyi and I—can stay together?”

That we can share a room and a bed, he meant. Jingyi winced a little, nervous that A-Yuan was asking this question so directly.

“Just because I was surprised doesn’t mean I disapprove. I’d be a hypocrite if I did.” Wei Wuxian plucked a bun from one of the trays on the table and took a bite. “Besides, what’s the harm? It’s not as if either of you can get pregnant.”

“Ba!”

“Heaven knows Lan Zhan and I have tried over the years.”

A-Yuan groaned, scandalized. This was only the beginning of the bawdy teasing they’d receive from here on out, Jingyi realized.

“Discretion is advised,” Hanguang-jun said, giving both of them a stern look.

“Definitely,” Wei Wuxian said, looking thoughtful. “We can make it known that they are betrothed without saying that they are betrothed to each other.” He turned to Jingyi and A-Yuan. “It would be best if we keep that bit a secret. Otherwise it would be difficult for you to be together unchaperoned in certain circumstances.”

Jingyi glanced at Hanguang-jun. As much as he wanted the freedom to spend time alone with A-Yuan, he knew this plan was fairly morally ambiguous.

Hanguang-jun nodded, though. “I agree. For now, only your brother and mine need to know.”

“Then it’s settled.” Wei Wuxian gave them both a calculating look. “Now, do you have any questions? Need any advice? I think I can lend you some very instructive books, if you—”

“Ba, no!” A-Yuan cried, and pressed his hands over his face. His ears were bright red.

Wei Wuxian smirked in response, which Jingyi took to mean that they were in for some merciless teasing in the very near future. It was worth it, though.

*

Jingyi smiles now at the memory of it—Wei Wuxian’s bawdy sense of humor is something he’s come to appreciate over the years. Next to him, A-Yuan clears his throat and stands. Jingyi realizes he’s missed the entire last 15 minutes of the Lan elders’ discussion while lost in memories. Oops.

A-Yuan raises an eyebrow at him and Jingyi shrugs slightly. A-Yuan shakes his head, but his expression is more fond than annoyed.

“Zewu-jun has arranged a guest house for me and Ba,” he tells Jingyi quietly.

“A guest house?” Jingyi gapes at him. Every time the two of them have visited Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian has stayed in the Jingshi with Hanguang-jun and A-Yuan has stayed in the senior disciples’ dormitory.

“Maybe it’s a sign that the marriage negotiations are moving forward. I mean, if they’re insisting on propriety…”

Jingyi stifles a snort. That ship sailed a long time ago.

It makes a certain amount of sense, though Jingyi doubts either Wei Wuxian or Hanguang-jun will be very happy about it. He also doesn’t know what that means for himself and A-Yuan. They’ve had to sneak around on previous visits to be alone together, but if Zewu-jun insists on propriety for Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun, it will definitely make things harder for Jingyi and A-Yuan.

They frown at each other, both thinking the same thing.

The bells chime the time, and Jingyi realizes with a sudden start that he’s late for class—a class that he’s teaching. He apologizes and excuses himself, promising to catch up with A-Yuan later, and walks as quickly as is proper across the grounds to a small practice field.

A group of children are there, waiting as patiently as 6-year-olds can. Standing nearby is Miaomiao, Jingyi’s teaching partner for this particular class. She’s not alone today—Shao Yunyu is standing next to her, listening as she explains something.

“Shixiong,” the children say, and bow as Jingyi walks toward them. He acknowledges them with a nod, then turns to Miaomiao and Yunyu with a questioning look.

“Yi-xiong,” they say in greeting, then Miaomiao gestures him over to the edge of the field.

“I hear Wei Sizhui and Wei Wuxian arrived not long ago,” she says.

Jingyi shouldn’t be surprised that word traveled that quickly. Of course, Yunyu’s younger brother was there when A-Yuan arrived, which might explain Yunyu’s presence here.

“I was thinking,” she continues, stepping closer to him and lowering her voice, “that Yunyu-xiong can help me today, in case you want to spend some time with him.”

“Spend some time?” Jingyi asks.

She arches an eyebrow. “Maybe give him a proper welcome?”

Behind her shoulder, Yunyu pokes his tongue into his cheek obscenely.

Jingyi glares at him. “There are children, right over there!”

“What?” Yunyu asks, his expression innocent. “I had something in my teeth.”

“Don’t be crass,” Miaomiao says, then turns back to Jingyi. “Seriously, though, we’ve got this. You should go. You haven’t seen him in ages.”

Jingyi should say no. He really should. “It’s just an hour. It’ll be fine.”

“A whole hour where no one expects you to be anywhere in particular.” Miaomiao’s lips twist into a smirk. “No one would miss you if you disappeared for a bit.”

Jingyi doesn’t know how to respond to that in a way that isn’t completely incriminating.

Yunyu sighs. “If the person I was secretly betrothed to came to visit and my shidi and shimei offered to cover for me so I could go give them a good—”

His eyes go wide when he realizes his lips are suddenly sealed shut.

Miaomiao turns to Jingyi with a gasp. “You know how to do that?”

Jingyi doesn’t dignify that with a response. Hanguang-jun made him promise to use it sparingly, and not to teach anyone else. “What’s the point of a secret betrothal if everyone knows?”

“Not everyone knows,” Miaomiao says, smirking at Yunyu as he struggles. “Just your friends. And well, probably most of the junior disciples, because they’re at that age where anything related to romance is fascinating.”

“We weren’t allowed to gossip like that.” Jingyi waves a hand and Yunyu is released from the silencing spell. Yunyu exhales through his mouth, clearly relieved. “We would have had to copy sect rules.”

“Upside-down, too.” Miaomiao shakes her head. “These kids, I swear. Anyway, I owe you for covering for me and Zizhen at Lotus Pier last summer, so you should take this and go.”

Yunyu’s mouth falls open at that, but he says nothing, clearly afraid of getting silenced again.

Miaomiao had been invited to spend a week at the second annual junior discussion conference as a guest archery teacher. Jin Ling and Zizhen were fairly gracious about giving Jingyi and A-Yuan private time in their shared guest house when they wanted it, and Zizhen cashed in on that the week Miaomiao came to visit. Jingyi had felt conflicted about it at the time, and had threatened Zizhen with bodily harm if Miaomiao got pregnant as a result. He’d quietly begged Miaomiao to be careful, and—once she’d recovered from her shock—she’d told him they hadn’t even kissed yet, then quietly asked him for advice on that. Jingyi’s pretty sure they figured it out on their own, maybe along with a few other things. Zizhen had refused to tell any of them anything about it, no matter how much Jin Ling tried to press him for details.

Zizhen and Jin Ling would arrive at Cloud Recesses in a couple of weeks or so for a planned night hunt with Jingyi and A-Yuan, and Jingyi fully expects the two of them to ask for help sneaking around then too. As will Jin Ling, probably—he’d made out with a shocking number of disciples over the course of the conference, a couple of them from the Lan sect.

Jingyi’s getting a headache just thinking about it.

Across the field, the children are starting to get antsy for their lesson to begin. Jingyi looks over at them with a stern expression, and they all quiet down.

“Are you going or not?” Miaomiao asks.

“Going,” Jingyi says, and bows his thanks to both of them. He crosses to the children and admonishes them to behave and listen to Yunyu as they would to him (Jingyi kind of secretly hopes they won’t), then heads back toward the main area of the compound.

He’s not sure which guest house Zewu-jun set aside for Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan, but they’re all located at the end of the same path on the other side of Cloud Recesses. He makes his way there as inconspicuously as he can. He doubts anyone would know his schedule enough to question where he’s going, but best not to draw attention just in case.

He rounds a bend on the quiet path, and sees Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian walking toward him. He pauses to bow his greetings.

“Looking for A-Yuan?” Wei Wuxian asks, his smile knowing.

Jingyi nods and tries to look as innocent as possible.

“He’s in the little guest house, the one down on the left. I think he was planning to take a bath.”

Jingyi does his best not to react to that information. “I hope you’ll be comfortable there, Wei qianbei.”

“Me? Oh, I’m not staying there.” He bumps his shoulder against Hanguang-jun’s. “While I appreciate the offer of a private space, I’m staying in the Jingshi with Lan Zhan, like always.”

One corner of Hanguang-jun’s mouth turns up at this, the expression as close to a smirk as he gets.

“Oh,” is all Jingyi can think of to say.

“I do not believe Xiongzhang truly expects you to stay anywhere else,” Hanguang-jun says. He looks at Jingyi. “However, A-Yuan will stay there instead of in the dormitory. It will provide him a quiet space to meditate and practice music.” He pauses and straightens his sleeves. “He’ll be all alone there, so I’m sure he would appreciate your company.”

His company? Jingyi can only blink in response.

“Be discreet,” Hanguang-jun says, his expression somehow both stern and fond.

“I—yes, of course.” Jingyi can feel his face heating at the implication. Are they actually being given permission to sleep together here in Cloud Recesses? Not that they wouldn’t have found a way anyway, but this is certainly beyond what Jingyi expected.

Wei Wuxian smirks. “At least this way you won’t be sneaking around the forest together and almost causing a scandal.”

Jingyi ducks his head at that. They’d been caught once in a compromising position in the forest, it’s true, but it was Wei Wuxian himself who’d caught them. And scolded them thoroughly. And then given them advice on better places to have quick, illicit sex.

“Yes, Wei qianbei.”

Wei Wuxian steps forward and puts a hand on Jingyi’s cheek, his smile fond. “Oh, you two. You’re so adorable. Have fun!” He turns to Hanguang-jun, his expression going sly. “I think I might have a bath as well. If you don’t mind?”

Hanguang-jun nods, and his gaze follows Wei Wuxian as he heads up the path.

“Hanguang-jun,” Jingyi says, then pauses and bows deeply. “This one is grateful that Hanguang-jun has entrusted him with the affection of his son. What he sees in this lowly disciple is unclear, but—”

“Lan Jingyi,” Hanguang-jun says, and pauses, waits for Jingyi to look up at him again. He steps forward and puts a large hand on Jingyi’s shoulder. “I chose you for him, years ago. I trusted my own judgment then, and I still do now.” He smiles then, one of those rare warm smiles that makes Jingyi feel fuzzy all over.

Jingyi nods, unable to say anything more. Hanguang-jun squeezes his shoulder and walks away.

Jingyi stands there and watches him disappear around the bend before dashing down the path to the guest house.

It’s one of the smaller ones at Cloud Recesses, usually a space for one person of low rank. Hanguang-jun’s comment that Zewu-jun didn’t expect Wei Wuxian to actually stay there makes sense. Surely Zewu-jun would know that Jingyi and A-Yuan would take advantage of the opportunity for some privacy? Jingyi isn’t going to think too much on that; he’s just grateful for it.

He steps up onto the house’s small front porch, then hesitates at the door and knocks. There’s no response, so he slides the door open carefully and peeks inside. He can’t remember if he’s been in this particular house before. It’s cozy inside, with a bedroom on one side, a sitting area on the other, and a bathing area at the back, separated by a privacy screen. There’s a second door on the opposite side that he assumes leads out to a small meditation garden, like in the other guest houses.

“A-Yuan?”

There’s a soft splash from behind the screen. “Xiao Yi? I’m in the bath.”

Jingyi walks over and peers around the screen. A-Yuan tilts his head back over the edge of the tub to grin at him upside-down.

“You naked?” Jingyi raises his eyebrows.

“That is generally how I bathe, yes. Wanna join me?”

Jingyi is tempted, but the bathtub is rather small. He kneels by the edge and dips one hand in the water. “Anything in particular you need help cleaning?”

A-Yuan pretends to look thoughtful for a moment, then shifts up onto his knees. “Wash my back?” He looks over his shoulder at Jingyi, a sly expression on his face.

Oh, he is beautiful. Jingyi’s mouth is dry at the thought of getting his hands on all that wet skin. He stands and strips off his outer layers, letting them fall haphazardly to the floor. After a moment’s thought, he takes off everything but his pants—why get anything unnecessarily wet?—and settles on his knees again.

A-Yuan makes a happy sound at the first touch of Jingyi’s hands to his back. Jingyi soaps him up slowly, digging his fingers into the tight muscle here and there. After he rinses off the soap, he lets his hands slide lower, down to A-Yuan’s ass under the water.

“Yeah, you should wash that too,” A-Yuan says, his voice breathy already.

Jingyi slips a hand around to find his cock is already hard. He gives it a quick stroke, then takes his time fingering A-Yuan under the water. It feels especially dirty like this somehow, like he’s taking advantage. Not that A-Yuan minds. He’s making little sounds of pleasure and rocking his hips back against Jingyi’s hand.

“You should take me to bed.”

“Yeah?” Jingyi steps back and A-Yuan stands, dripping. His cock juts out from his body. Jingyi wants it in his mouth. “You’re gonna get everything wet.”

“That’s kind of the idea.” A-Yuan climbs out of the tub and wraps his arms around Jingyi, smiling up at him.

Taking off his clothes before had been a very good idea. Jingyi leans in to kiss him. A-Yuan pushes Jingyi’s pants off and gets a hand on his cock, and Jingyi groans around the tongue in his mouth. “Bed? Or I could just bend you over the bathtub—”

“Bed, definitely.” A-Yuan pulls him by the hand and leads him across the room. He pushes Jingyi down on the bed. “Remember what I said I wanted to do?”

Jingyi nods. Ever since that letter, it’s an image that has become a staple when he jerks off.

“Stay right there.” A-Yuan digs through his belongings and comes back with a familiar jar. He settles on Jingyi’s thighs and opens it, pours some in his palm. He makes quick work of it, fingering some oil into himself before slathering more on Jingyi’s cock. He leans forward to kiss Jingyi, then reaches back and lowers himself onto Jingyi’s cock.

They’ve only recently started doing this, what Jingyi privately thinks of as “butt stuff.” They’d both been nervous about it and had finally worked up the nerve to try it at an inn on a night hunt. They’d been careful to silence the room and had gone slowly, with Jingyi pushing into A-Yuan from behind. It had been good from the first time, even better than either of them expected. Jingyi already likes it better like this, though. He can see A-Yuan’s face, for one thing, but the idea is that A-Yuan is going to fuck himself on Jingyi’s cock is hot.

A-Yuan feels impossibly tight until his body relaxes, and Jingyi reels a little at the heat of him. He’s always amazed that A-Yuan wants to do this, that he’s willing to let Jingyi penetrate him in such an intimate way. Jingyi hasn’t tried it himself yet, but he wants to.

A-Yuan is fully seated now, his ass against Jingyi’s thighs. He opens his eyes and looks down at Jingyi.

“How does it feel?” Jingyi asks. He rubs his thumbs along A-Yuan’s thighs.

“Good. Weird to be in control of it.” A-Yuan raises his hips a little, enough to let Jingyi’s cock slide out a bit, then presses back down. Jingyi sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, you like that?”

“You’re fucking me, of course I like it.”

“Technically, I think I’m fucking myself,” A-Yuan says, then moves again. “I’m just using your cock to do it.”

“Use it all you want.”

It takes a bit of experimenting to find a rhythm that works. A-Yuan’s thighs are definitely getting a workout, enough that he’s glistening with sweat a few minutes in. His face is amazing to watch—the tension, the pleasure when he gets the angle just right, the way his mouth goes slack when it starts to feel really good.

“Want me to touch you?” Jingyi asks.

“Mn, but slow.”

Jingyi does, teasing with his fingers more than anything. A-Yuan’s going slow enough that Jingyi’s not in danger of coming just yet, but it’s going to get there.

“You look so hot like this. You really like it.”

“I do, but my thighs are killing me.” A-Yuan settles down, Jingyi all the way inside him. “Can you sit up and maybe move back?”

They arrange themselves so that A-Yuan is more in Jingyi’s lap, arms around his shoulders, and make out like that for a while. The urge to move finally gets the best of Jingyi, and he presses up into A-Yuan with small movements, just enough to ease the tension.

“I think you wanna rail me,” A-Yuan says into his mouth. “Just pound into me until I can’t remember my own name.”

“Yes,” Jingyi says, then pushes forward until he’s got A-Yuan on his back. “Like this?”

“Do it, do it,” A-Yuan says, and those are the last intelligible sounds either of them make for a while.

It’s rough and fast, the sound of their bodies moving together obscene, and Jingyi loses himself in it. He comes with A-Yuan making little choked off sounds beneath him, pressing in as deep as he can, nearly folding A-Yuan in half. As soon as he comes down from it, he pulls out and slides down to take A-Yuan’s cock in his mouth. He slides two fingers into his ass and fucks him like that, and sucks him in the way he’s learned will get A-Yuan off fast. A-Yuan’s hips come off the bed when he comes, pressing farther into Jingyi’s throat than is comfortable, but it’s fine. Jingyi likes it when he’s like this, slightly out of control.

He rests his head on A-Yuan’s stomach after, listening to the sound of his breathing as it slows back down.

“Xiao Yi, god.”

Jingyi sighs happily. “Yeah.”

They stay like that until A-Yuan finally can’t stand the mess anymore and gets up to clean off. They settle back in bed afterward, naked and wrapped around each other.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” A-Yuan asks.

“Not until dinner.”

“I thought you had to teach that class.”

Jingyi smiles and tells the story of Miaomiao’s conspiring with Yunyu.

“I knew I liked her.” A-Yuan plays with the end of Jingyi’s forehead ribbon. “Ba says Zizhen’s father has been really sucking up to Zewu-jun.”

“The Lan sect doesn’t like losing its cultivators to marriage.”

“Which is why we’re here, actually.”

Jingyi combs his fingers through A-Yuan’s damp hair. “Are they finally close to an agreement?”

“I hope so. They won’t settle for anything less than neither of them marrying in or out. They want to split their loyalty and time between both sects.”

“I’m surprised they’re pushing so hard for that. Your father has only been back with the Jiang sect for a few years.”

“Well, my father is loyal to a fault. And Lotus Pier is his home. He’s so happy there, especially when Jin furen comes to visit.” He tilts his head up and kisses Jingyi softly. “But also, I think they’re also thinking about us.”

“Us? How?”

“So we can have the same deal when we get married. Once the precedent is there—”

Jingyi cuts him off with a kiss. Every time he thinks about marrying A-Yuan, he’s almost overwhelmed. How did he get so lucky?

“How did I get so lucky?” he whispers against A-Yuan’s mouth.

A-Yuan doesn’t reply, just kisses him some more, and Jingyi stops thinking altogether.

+++

Chapter Text

Jingyi is twenty years old, and he’s happy.

The first of two wedding ceremonies is done, and Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian are off to their wedding chamber. They’d looked blissfully happy as they left, and also completely ready to tear each other’s clothes off. Jingyi is basically immune to them at this point, but it was kind of funny to see uncomfortable expressions on the faces of so many wedding guests.

The banquet was quite excessive by Lan sect standards—even the rule forbidding alcohol was lifted for the duration of the celebrations in deference to the occasion, the wide range of guests, and one of the grooms. It’s truly bizarre to drink Emperor’s Smile in the main pavilion of Cloud Recesses. It’s gone to Jingyi’s head already, a glorious sort of buzz. Next to him, A-Yuan is practically glowing with happiness. He’s been here for a couple of weeks, and Jingyi is growing used to having him around. In a week or so, they’ll head to Lotus Pier to help prepare for the wedding celebrations there. Jingyi is looking forward to it.

Jingyi loves Cloud Recesses, and this place will always be his home, but Lotus Pier holds a very special place in his heart. He knows that one day, he’ll spend half his time there as A-Yuan’s husband. Apparently A-Yuan’s uncle Wen Ning has already built the two of them a house in the village, for when they come to visit.

“He knows it’s literally within walking distance of Lotus Pier, doesn’t he?” Jingyi had said when A-Yuan told him. “We can go visit whenever we want.”

“He wants us to feel at home in the village,” A-Yuan had replied. “He especially wants you to feel at home. They all ask about you.”

Jingyi smiles at the memory, at the warmth he’s felt at their inclusion each time he’s visited. “We’ll have to go visit them as soon as we can.”

“Hmmm?” A-Yuan, sitting next to him, looks confused.

Oops. Jingyi had gotten lost in a memory again. He and A-Yuan share a brain so often that he forgets to give him context sometimes. “Your family, in the village. They must be excited for the wedding.”

“Oh, you have no idea. The plans they’ve made—Ba begged them not to make a big deal of it, but you know how they feel about him.”

Jingyi does.

Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen come over then, kneeling next to their table.

“I bought a stupid amount of Emperor’s Smile in town,” Jin Ling says quietly, “before I knew they were going to relax the rules tonight. Somebody needs to help me drink it all.” He raises his eyebrows. “I can bring it to your guest house.”

“We’re in,” A-Yuan says.

Jin Ling is technically staying in a guest house with his parents and siblings, but he’s invoked his privilege as the eldest son and heir—and, he’s noted, as a “grown-ass adult”—to stay with a few friends while he’s been here. Jingyi suspects he also took advantage of the opportunity to fool around with those friends, including Zizhen. Apparently with Miaomiao’s permission. Jingyi hasn’t figured that one out yet.

The four of them manage to make a large dent in Jin Ling’s stock of Emperor’s Smile. They play drinking games and tell each other ridiculous stories, then finally collapse in a heap together on A-Yuan’s bed. It’s a lot like their time in Lotus Pier every summer, where the four of them basically run the junior discussion conference these days. Their four sects like to boast about their teamwork and accomplishments, and hold them up as the best examples of the next generation of cultivators. This means they have to behave with perfect discipline in public—and blow off steam together only in private.

They fall asleep like they often do on nights like this, all piled together, limbs intertwined. Jingyi and A-Yuan make out a little once the others have passed out, but they’re both too drunk and exhausted for anything more. Not that they haven’t ever done more with Jin Ling and Zizhen in the bed next to them, Jingyi is slightly ashamed to admit. On a few memorable occasions. If those two were aware of it, they’ve at least done Jingyi and A-Yuan the favor of never mentioning it. Everyone was very drunk when that happened, is the point, and Jingyi is happy to pretend it all went undetected. He’s not an exhibitionist, as a rule.

Jingyi awakens early, as he always does. He’s sandwiched between A-Yuan and Jin Ling, though Jin Ling is half sleeping on top of Zizhen. Jingyi’s got to piss, so he extricates himself from the tangle and tiptoes to the back of the house where the chamberpot is kept.

He’s fully awake then, so he doesn’t go back to bed. He heads out the back door into the house’s small meditation garden. It’s a beautiful spring morning: the air crisp before the sun rises, the sky only just brightening to the east. Jingyi stretches, goes through his morning exercises, then settles to meditate.

When he opens his eyes again, the sun is peeking through the trees and A-Yuan is sitting across from him, deep in meditation as well. Jingyi watches him, drinking in the sight of him. A-Yuan’s hair is down, which makes him look older, somehow. Jingyi remembers them being small children together, remembers the roundness of A-Yuan’s cheeks then, the way his voice was high-pitched. He’s still small—Jingyi had hit a late growth spurt and towers over him now. A-Yuan pretends to hate it.

Jingyi closes his eyes again and breathes, listens, waits.

“Good morning,” A-Yuan says some time later.

“You’re up early.”

“You weren’t in bed, so there was no reason to stay.”

Warmth floods Jingyi’s body. “Are Zhen-ge and A-Ling still asleep?”

“Yes, and they looked very cozy.”

They seemed unusually cozy last night too. Jingyi had watched them off an on, wondering. “Do you think they really—I mean?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Huh.” Jingyi frowns. “Does it bother you that your cousin just… fools around with so many people like that?”

A-Yuan shrugs. “He says he’s upfront with everyone. They know he’s not interested in courting them, that it’s just for fun. If he was being an asshole about it, I think I would’ve heard something by now. You know he visits Lotus Pier a lot, and everyone there loves him.” He pauses, looks thoughtful. “It seems like it’s mostly boys who just want to try it with someone and he’s—you know. Willing.”

Jingyi can’t imagine kissing someone who isn’t A-Yuan. It’s unthinkable.

“He did have to let Wangshu-xiong down gently a few months back, though.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“I tried to warn A-Ling that he was gonna break a heart with that one, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“Poor Lao Peng.” Jingyi’s come to appreciate and respect him in the last few years. He’s a good guy, though he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I think he decided to cool things off with the disciples at Lotus Pier after that.”

“Good call,” Jingyi says.

“Which is why he’s been making the rounds here.” A-Yuan’s tone shifts into sarcasm.

Jingyi snorts. He’s honestly not sure why so many people seem to be lined up to make out with Jin Ling. He’s good-looking, sure, and he’s wealthy, powerful, a great cultivator, and so on, but he can also be so annoying Jingyi often wants to punch him in the face. Which he has never done, for the record. He has, however, used the Lan silencing spell on him a couple of times. Oh, that was glorious.

“Speaking of kissing people,” A-Yuan says, and leans forward with an expectant look on his face. “Where’s my good morning?”

Jingyi leans in and kisses him, soft and sweet. A-Yuan’s lips move gently against his, but neither of them push to deepen it. A-Yuan sighs happily, then sits back again. “Want to meditate together?”

Jingyi nods and scoots in close enough that their knees touch. They grasp each other’s wrists, fingertips pressing against each other’s meridians, and settle into the rhythm of each other’s bodies. Jingyi likes this, the intimacy of it, the way their breathing and heartbeats sync. He feels A-Yuan at the edge of his consciousness, lets himself bask in the contentment of being this close, almost intertwined.

A-Yuan had warded him with his own blood, years ago, and that bit of magic still sits in Jingyi’s skin. It flares to life when they share qi like this, enhancing their connection. It’s something Jingyi wants to ask Hanguang-jun about someday, but for now, it feels like a secret, a connection to A-Yuan he carries with him everywhere. He’s used it to find A-Yuan more than once, in the darkness and chaos of night hunts gone wrong. They’ve also learned to use it during sex, which—yeah, that’s the main reason Jingyi is not planning to bring it up with Hanguang-jun anytime soon. That could result in questions he’s way too embarrassed to answer.

“Xiao Yi?” he hears sometime later. He opens his eyes, draws back reluctantly. A-Yuan smiles at him. “I think breakfast is here.”

They both turn to look at the open doorway. There’s definitely movement inside.

Jingyi squeezes A-Yuan’s hands one more time, and stands. A-Yuan reaches up, silently asking Jingyi to pull him to his feet. The connection between them is fading now. Jingyi wants to cling to it, to blow gently on that spark just a bit more.

A-Yuan squeezes his hand. “Later.”

“Later,” Jingyi agrees.

They’re still holding hands when they walk inside, not ready to let go of each other yet. Jin Ling and Zizhen are seated at the room’s small table, which is currently covered with a variety of dishes. That’s way more food than they’ve been sent over the last few days. Someone knows they had extra guests sleeping over last night.

Jingyi and A-Yuan exchange a look. Jingyi firmly believes that the sect’s head of housekeeping could be much better utilized, considering the effectiveness and reach of the spy network they seem to manage. Very little escapes their notice.

“I was thinking—” Jin Ling begins as they settle at the table.

“Always dangerous,” A-Yuan quips.

Jin Ling ignores him. “—that the four of us should head out for Lotus Pier tomorrow, but take our time getting there. We could night hunt along the way, or just take a scenic route.”

“Yes,” Jingyi says as he pours tea for A-Yuan. “I’m in.”

The last few weeks of wedding preparations have been incredibly stressful, and he’s repeatedly wished he could get away for a day or two. The idea of spending some time with his best friends, with no particular responsibilities—and no one watching their every move—sounds like bliss.

A-Yuan laughs. “Well, if Jingyi’s going, so am I.”

“We can stay in inns every night,” Jin Ling says, then levels a look at A-Yuan. “Nice ones, not those shitholes you had us in last winter.”

“You paying?” A-Yuan retorts.

“Fuck, yes,” Jin Ling says. “Gladly. We’ll even get two rooms so you two can get as freaky as you want.”

“Thank you, A-Ling,” A-Yuan says. It somehow manages to sound like fuck you.

“What would you consider freaky?” Zizhen asks. He’s smirking a little as he says it, clearly intending to wind Jin Ling up.

Jin Ling raises one elegant eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure that Lan forehead ribbon has been defiled on more than one occasion.”

“Hey, now.” Jingyi pretends to be offended. “Defiled is a strong word.” Jin Ling’s not wrong, is the thing.

Next to him, A-Yuan presses his hands over his face. The tips of his ears are pink.

“I’m sure you’ve managed, though.” Jin Ling holds up one hand before Jingyi can even respond to that. “And I really don’t want the details.”

Jingyi grins. “If you say so.”

Jin Ling turns to Zizhen. “Remind me to ask for rooms that don’t share a wall this time.”

Zizhen snorts. “Yeah, that was a weird night.”

“We said we were sorry,” A-Yuan says, still flushed with embarrassment. “And you could have said something rather than just… keep listening.”

“It didn’t bother me,” Zizhen says, and tilts his head toward Jin Ling. “He was the one curled up in a fetal position with his hands over his ears.”

“It was traumatic! I did not need to know exactly what it sounds like when my cousin’s getting fucked.”

A-Yuan’s hands cover his face again.

Jingyi’s pretty sure now those two really were out of it the couple of times he and A-Yuan got it on while in the same bed with them. So that’s a plus.

“I’ve always wanted to ask,” Zizhen says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Doesn’t it hurt when you do it in the ass like that?”

A-Yuan groans and drops his forehead to the table.

Jingyi reaches over and pats his back soothingly. “Honestly? It doesn’t have to, but—it can. If you want it to be like, rough? And sometimes that’s actually part of what makes it good.”

“Really?” Zizhen looks fascinated. “How is pain good? I mean, I haven’t done anything with anyone else, not really. Just like—” He makes a jerk-off gesture. Next to him, Jin Ling chokes on the tea he just sipped. “But I thought the point of sex was to feel good?”

Jingyi ignores Jin Ling’s coughing fit. “Well, it’s kind of like—have you ever had an itch that you scratched so much you made yourself bleed, but it still felt good to scratch it? It’s kind of like that. It hurts in the moment, but it also feels good at the same time.”

“Huh.” Zizhen looks like he’s considering this very seriously.

“And then it feels really good,” Jingyi adds, grinning.

Jin Ling looks back and forth between Jingyi and A-Yuan. “So wait, I would’ve thought you were the one who does the fucking, not him.”

“Oh my god,” A-Yuan groans. He slumps sideways, his head in Jingyi’s lap. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“We’ve both got dicks,” Jingyi says. “And there’s a lot of kinds of fun you can have with them. It’s not like there are rules.”

A-Yuan reaches up and presses a hand over Jingyi’s mouth. “Xiao Yi, I swear, if you want me to touch your dick any time soon, stop talking.”

Jingyi licks his hand, and A-Yuan hisses and pulls it away. Jingyi feels smug for a moment, until A-Yuan shifts in his lap and presses the back of his head against Jingyi’s soft cock. Oh, he’s being mean now. Jingyi tightens his hand in A-Yuan’s hair and silently dares him to do it again. A-Yuan can’t without the others noticing, and Jingyi knows he won’t. Still, it’s very daring for him, and it’s pretty hot.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Jingyi says. “I’ll stop embarrassing you.” He pets A-Yuan’s hair, and grins at Zizhen.

Zizhen grins back, looking very smug himself.

“Hang on,” Jingyi says. “Just who have you”—he repeats the jerk-off motion—”with anyway? And if you say Miaomiao I’m obligated as her shixiong to kick your ass about it.”

Zizhen snorts. “I wish. I’ve barely had a chance to kiss her lately. Now that we’re officially betrothed, no one lets us sneak off together. You two are so damn lucky.”

“Is she coming to Lotus Pier this summer?”

“She’s trying to make it happen. I don’t know if it’ll be much easier there. Honestly, it’s not like we’re actually going to do it. We know how babies are made. It would just be nice to have a whole incense time to make out every now and then. It’s going to be years before we get married.” He sighs.

“I notice you didn’t answer the question,” Jingyi says.

“We’ll figure something out this summer,” Jin Ling says brightly. “Between me and Yuan-ge, we know who at Lotus Pier you have to bribe to look the other way.”

Jingyi raises his eyebrows at Zizhen. “And in the meantime, you’ve clearly got someone else willing to touch your dick.” He lets his gaze dart to Jin Ling.

Zizhen’s smile is overly innocent. “Lucky me.”

“And Miaomiao doesn’t mind?”

“Maybe Miaomiao has someone helping her out too.”

Jingyi’s jaw drops at that. He knows boys fool around together—he grew up in dormitories, after all—but girls do that too? His mind is kind of blown.

“Anyway,” Jin Ling says, his ears a little pink now, “about this trip we’re going to take.”

Jingyi is definitely going to ask Zizhen more questions about this arrangement he has with Miaomiao, but later. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as we can pack?” Jin Ling looks over at Zizhen, who shrugs.

A-Yuan sits up. He seems to have recovered from his embarrassment. “Then let’s get packing.”

The moment Jin Ling and Zizhen slide the door closed behind them, he stalks toward Jingyi with a fierce expression on his face.

“Are you seriously upset?” Jingyi holds his hands up. “I said I was sorry for embarrassing you.”

“But you weren’t, really.”

Jingyi hesitates. He’s a terrible liar, and knows better than to even try with A-Yuan. He smiles instead, hoping he looks sufficiently contrite.

A-Yuan rolls his eyes, then puts a hand on Jingyi’s shoulder and pushes down.

Jingyi blinks at him a moment, then— “Oh.” He grins and drops to his knees, then looks up at A-Yuan. “I guess I’m not really that sorry. How can I make it up to you?” He wets his lips.

A-Yuan’s smirk is a wonder. It’s also incredibly hot. He unfastens the layers of his robes, then slides a hand behind Jingyi’s head, into his loose hair. “I’m sure you can figure something out.”

“Yeah,” Jingyi says, and reaches for A-Yuan’s pants. He’s already half hard when Jingyi gets them pulled down. He gives him one more smoldering look before leaning forward and taking his cock into his mouth. He’s instantly hit with the smell and the taste of him, the soft-hard feel of that sensitive skin against his tongue, and he loves it. He sucks A-Yuan to hardness, then pulls off to say, “You should fuck my mouth. That’ll shut me up.”

“Will it?” A-Yuan’s eyes are dark now, his lower lip slightly red where he’s been biting it. “I guess it’s worth a try.”

A-Yuan knows how much Jingyi likes it when A-Yuan takes control like this. It’s usually the other way around in bed—A-Yuan is happy to let Jingyi take the lead, to decide what they’re going to do and how they’re going to do it, and position A-Yuan however he likes. “I’m easy,” he likes to say, then laughs when Jingyi invariably replies, “Yeah, you are.” Every now and then, though, A-Yuan just takes over, and Jingyi loves it.

Jingyi opens his mouth and looks up at him, waiting.

“Tongue,” A-Yuan says. Jingyi sticks his tongue out, and A-Yuan rubs the head of his cock against it. Jingyi wants to close his lips around it, wants to suck, but it’s not up to him right now. A-Yuan pushes in slowly, until his cock hits the back of Jingyi’s mouth. “Close.” Jingyi does. “Now suck.”

Damn. Jingyi’s eyes flutter closed, and he does. A-Yuan keeps his thrusts shallow, lets Jingyi use his tongue as much as he likes. Jingyi circles his tongue around the head, probes up under the foreskin in that way that makes A-Yuan make the really good noises.

“Xiao Yi, your mouth, fuck.” He scritches Jingyi’s scalp a little with his fingers, like a reward, then pushes in deeper, enough that Jingyi has to struggle not to gag. “Oh, I want—” A-Yuan pauses, then reaches down and puts Jingyi’s hand on his hip. “Tap if it’s too much.”

Jingyi opens his eyes and looks up, enough to let A-Yuan know he’s on board. A-Yuan pushes in again. Jingyi’s never tapped out yet, and he’s not planning to this morning. He wants A-Yuan to get rough with him, and tries to be as pliant and enthusiastic as he can, to encourage it.

“Your mouth feels so good,” A-Yuan says, panting a little now. “I like it when you say dirty things, you know. Even though it embarrasses me, it also turns me on.”

Oh, Jingyi knows. That’s half the reason he does it, to get A-Yuan worked up.

“When you said you like it when it hurts, god.” He pushes his cock in far enough to cut off Jingyi’s breathing. “I know I shouldn’t find that hot, but I do.” He pulls back enough to let Jingyi suck in a big breath, then pushes in again. Jingyi’s spine tingles with anticipation. A-Yuan knows Jingyi is a very accomplished cultivator who can hold his breath for a long, long time. He tilts his head back and sinks lower to get the line of his throat just right. A-Yuan takes a shaky breath and leans forward more, and then his cock slides in deep, until Jingyi’s nose is pressed into his pubic hair. They both stay still for a moment, just feeling it.

“I’m gonna go for it,” A-Yuan says softly, and Jingyi makes a sound that was intended to be a hum of acknowledgment, but comes out more strangled. A-Yuan actually whimpers at the sound of it. He squeezes Jingyi’s shoulder and pulls back just a little before thrusting in again.

Oh, this is going to be good.

A-Yuan starts slowly, but within a minute is fucking him for real, keeping his cock in the tight shaft of Jingyi’s throat. He’s not gentle, and even though it feels really weird, Jingyi loves it. He’s going to feel this for hours. His voice is going to sound rough, and every time he says a word, A-Yuan will look at him and they’ll both remember this, the way A-Yuan fucked his throat.

He relaxes and just lets go, hangs on to A-Yuan’s hips tight enough that he’s sure he’ll leave little fingerprint bruises. A-Yuan makes soft sounds as he pushes in again and again. He’s close, so close. Jingyi wants to hear him come, wants to feel it like this, but also doesn’t want it to be over just yet. He swallows around A-Yuan’s cock once, experimentally, and hears the hitch in A-Yuan’s breathing. He does it again.

A-Yuan lasts another minute before he comes down Jingyi’s throat with a groan. He’s deep enough that Jingyi doesn’t even taste semen—it just goes right down. His cock jerks a few more times in Jingyi’s throat before he goes still. Jingyi’s lungs are starting to burn a little now. He could go longer without air, but breathing again is going to feel good.

A-Yuan pulls out and braces himself on Jingyi’s shoulders, panting. Jingyi gasps, sucks in a deep breath, and slides a hand between his thighs. He’s so hard he aches.

“That was so good, Xiao Yi,” A-Yuan says, petting his hair. “You were so good for me.”

Jingyi needs to get a hand on himself right fucking now. He grips his cock through his clothes and groans.

“Mmm, yeah, show me,” A-Yuan says. “I wanna watch.”

Jingyi digs his robes open enough to get his cock out, and strokes himself as slowly as he can manage. What he really wants to do is jerk it fast, but A-Yuan asked to see, which means Jingyi should give him something to watch. He pauses long enough to lick the palm of his hand, then slides it up the shaft. He swirls his thumb against the fluid leaking from the tip, then strokes down again.

“Faster,” A-Yuan says. “You don’t have to tease yourself for me. I want to see you come.”

“Okay,” Jingyi says, and gives in to the urge to do just that. He keeps his eyes locked on A-Yuan’s face. A-Yuan is watching the movement of his hand, fascinated.

“Tonight I want that in me,” A-Yuan says. “I want you to push me face-down onto the bed and fuck me so hard I’ll feel it for days.”

Yes. A-Yuan, for all his embarrassment around others, is very much into dirty talk in private. Jingyi loves that about him, loves that this is something only he knows.

“I want you to put your fingers and your tongue inside me. Maybe you could tie my hands with your ribbon, so I can’t even touch myself. I’d be totally at your mercy, and I could only come when you let me. I want you to take me all the ways you can think of, until I’m begging you to let me come. Please, Xiao Yi, I need it.”

Jingyi can see all of that in his head as A-Yuan says it, can imagine himself doing that, and more. He tries to keep his eyes open, tries to last a little longer, but he’s already there. He comes over his fist, gasping.

A-Yuan kisses his forehead ribbon, then his cheek. “That was gorgeous.”

Jingyi tips his chin up and A-Yuan kisses his mouth. It’s all tongue and teeth, rough and hot. Jingyi floats, blissed out from his orgasm and everything else. He sinks down onto his ass on the floor, accidentally taking A-Yuan down with him.

A-Yuan laughs and buries his face in Jingyi’s shoulder. “You should tell Zhen-ge about this next time he asks what you like to do in bed. I’d kind of like to see his face.”

Jingyi chuckles. “That you fucked my throat and talked dirty to me while I jerked myself off?” Oh, his voice is definitely rough. He clears his throat and looks up to see A-Yuan’s eyes are a little glazed. “Do you really want A-Ling to hear that?”

A-Yuan fingers trail over Jingyi’s throat. Jingyi feels healing energy tingling in the spots where his fingers just touched. He reaches up to pull A-Yuan’s hand away. “Don’t. I like it.”

A-Yuan kisses his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “I suspect A-Ling is not as horrified by it all as he pretends to be.”

“What if he’s actually taking notes?”

“Nope, not going there. Time to change the subject.” A-Yuan leans his head on Jingyi’s shoulder. “I kind of want to take a nap now.”

“Okay. It’s not like we have anywhere in particular to be.”

They probably won’t head out on their trip until after lunch anyway. Jingyi hopes he doesn’t get into trouble for leaving without advance permission. His duties right now are keeping the guests entertained, though. He’s doing that job pretty well, he thinks.

Jingyi lets A-Yuan clean him up first, then they strip off their robes. They get back into bed naked and curl around each other. It’s a warm morning for spring in Cloud Recesses. In a few weeks, junior disciples from many sects will arrive to begin their summer studies. Jingyi and A-Yuan will stay at Lotus Pier after the second wedding ceremony, and will start preparing for the junior discussion conference in the fall. They’ll stay there as long as Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun do, then will return to Cloud Recesses by the New Year.

After which Jingyi’s pretty sure his and A-Yuan’s wedding will start being planned. He’s not sure anything much will change—everyone already treats them as if they’re married anyway.

A-Yuan yawns and snuggles his head under Jingyi’s chin. “Wake me up when it’s time to pack.”

Jingyi yawns in sympathy. “Okay.”

In an hour, Jin Ling will barge in and act shocked that they’re naked in bed together, then will shake his head and tell them to let him know when they’re ready. They’ll get up and pack their things, then set off with their friends on an adventure.

And Jingyi will, that night, give A-Yuan exactly what he asked for. Jin Ling will complain about it in the morning at breakfast, and Jingyi will tease him, and A-Yuan will act embarrassed but will secretly actually like it, and Zizhen will pull Jingyi aside to ask questions, and then they’ll hit the road again, maybe suppress an evil spirit or two.

He can’t wait.

~fin~