You're shopping in Yiling for food and supplies, when you glimpse a flash of violet under a concealing cloak. You make your excuses to the seller and follow the figure to an enclosed courtyard. Your heart is hammering. Wen Ning trails behind you, undead and unsure and quiet.
Jiang Cheng lifts his hood and tells Wen Ning to leave. You'd protest, but your attention's caught by the woman in the yard. Even through the cloak and the veil on her bamboo hat, you'd know her anywhere.
"Shijie," you say. Sister.
She lets the disguise slide loose, revealing what's underneath: her wedding robes, brilliant red and embroidered with koi and lotus and peonies. The knot in your chest tightens.
You approach, still feeling cautious. You haven't seen her since you parted ways with the Jiang sect. “Shijie, you’re...?”
“What? You think she’s marrying you?” Jiang Cheng snaps.
“You can shut up,” you huff.
Jiang Yanli spreads out her arms, shows the robes in all their splendour, full-sleeved and gold-stitched. She's so beautiful. “A-Xian, I’ll be married soon. I came for you to see...but I'm the only one who's here. You won't be able to see the groom.”
It's a long way to Yiling, and it isn't safe for a sect leader and his sister to travel here so far, to associate with you. They didn't have to do this. It touches your heart; you're able to muster up a wry smile.
“It’s not like I want to look at some groom.”
(You do. You desperately want to see the ceremony. You've never liked Jin Zixuan, and you'll break his legs and send a thousand ghosts after him if he makes your sister cry again, but right now she's glowing with happiness at the prospect of marrying the man. You want to see what puts that expression on her face.)
You praise the wedding dress with your brother. She laughs it off gently, and blushes when Jiang Cheng says, “You don’t believe me and you don’t believe him. Is it that you’ll only believe it when a certain somebody says so?”
She asks you to name her future son. Jin Rulan, you say, thinking briefly of Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng bickers with you over it (why should their son be named for the Lans, when they have no role in this marriage), but Jiang Yanli, ever the peacemaker, interrupts with the promise of soup for you both. She even offers some to Wen Ning; he takes it shyly and thanks her, even though he can't eat.
She talks with him for a while, quietly. You and your brother are left to yourselves for a moment, and he lifts his soup bowl in a mocking toast. "To the Yiling Patriarch," he says.
You nearly splutter. Who came up with that awful title for you, anyway? “Shut up!”
He does, for about ten seconds. Then, “How’s your wound from last time?”
You shrug. “It healed a long time ago.”
“Mn.” A pause. “How many days?”
Do you have to go over this? “Less than seven. I told you before. With Wen Qing around to treat me, it wasn't anything difficult to deal with. But you really did fucking stab me.”
Jiang Cheng eats a slice of lotus root. “You were the one who smashed my arm first. You took seven days? I had it in a sling for an entire month.”
You snort. “If I didn't hit it hard enough, it wouldn't have been realistic, would it? It was your left hand anyway. It didn’t hinder you from writing, even if it took three months to heal."
There's another little silence. The soup is delicious, your sister's and Wen Ning's voices soft in the background, and for a moment, there's an illusion of normalcy and peace.
“You’ll stay like this from now on?" Jiang Cheng asks, breaking it. "Got any plans?”
If only. “Not at the moment. None of the group dares go down the mountain. People don’t dare do anything to me when I go down the mountain either. It’ll be fine as long as I don’t stir up trouble on my own.”
“On your own?” Jiang Cheng sneers. “Wei Wuxian, do you believe that even if you don’t stir up trouble on your own, trouble won’t come and find you? It’s often impossible to save someone, but there are thousands of ways to harm someone.”
You shrug. “A man with strength can defeat ten men with skill. I don’t care if they have thousands of ways. I’ll kill whoever comes.”
Your brother's tone cools. “You never listen to any of my opinions. One day, you’ll come to understand that I’m the one who’s right.”
no subject
Jiang Cheng lifts his hood and tells Wen Ning to leave. You'd protest, but your attention's caught by the woman in the yard. Even through the cloak and the veil on her bamboo hat, you'd know her anywhere.
"Shijie," you say. Sister.
She lets the disguise slide loose, revealing what's underneath: her wedding robes, brilliant red and embroidered with koi and lotus and peonies. The knot in your chest tightens.
You approach, still feeling cautious. You haven't seen her since you parted ways with the Jiang sect. “Shijie, you’re...?”
“What? You think she’s marrying you?” Jiang Cheng snaps.
“You can shut up,” you huff.
Jiang Yanli spreads out her arms, shows the robes in all their splendour, full-sleeved and gold-stitched. She's so beautiful. “A-Xian, I’ll be married soon. I came for you to see...but I'm the only one who's here. You won't be able to see the groom.”
It's a long way to Yiling, and it isn't safe for a sect leader and his sister to travel here so far, to associate with you. They didn't have to do this. It touches your heart; you're able to muster up a wry smile.
“It’s not like I want to look at some groom.”
(You do. You desperately want to see the ceremony. You've never liked Jin Zixuan, and you'll break his legs and send a thousand ghosts after him if he makes your sister cry again, but right now she's glowing with happiness at the prospect of marrying the man. You want to see what puts that expression on her face.)
You praise the wedding dress with your brother. She laughs it off gently, and blushes when Jiang Cheng says, “You don’t believe me and you don’t believe him. Is it that you’ll only believe it when a certain somebody says so?”
She asks you to name her future son. Jin Rulan, you say, thinking briefly of Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng bickers with you over it (why should their son be named for the Lans, when they have no role in this marriage), but Jiang Yanli, ever the peacemaker, interrupts with the promise of soup for you both. She even offers some to Wen Ning; he takes it shyly and thanks her, even though he can't eat.
She talks with him for a while, quietly. You and your brother are left to yourselves for a moment, and he lifts his soup bowl in a mocking toast. "To the Yiling Patriarch," he says.
You nearly splutter. Who came up with that awful title for you, anyway? “Shut up!”
He does, for about ten seconds. Then, “How’s your wound from last time?”
You shrug. “It healed a long time ago.”
“Mn.” A pause. “How many days?”
Do you have to go over this? “Less than seven. I told you before. With Wen Qing around to treat me, it wasn't anything difficult to deal with. But you really did fucking stab me.”
Jiang Cheng eats a slice of lotus root. “You were the one who smashed my arm first. You took seven days? I had it in a sling for an entire month.”
You snort. “If I didn't hit it hard enough, it wouldn't have been realistic, would it? It was your left hand anyway. It didn’t hinder you from writing, even if it took three months to heal."
There's another little silence. The soup is delicious, your sister's and Wen Ning's voices soft in the background, and for a moment, there's an illusion of normalcy and peace.
“You’ll stay like this from now on?" Jiang Cheng asks, breaking it. "Got any plans?”
If only. “Not at the moment. None of the group dares go down the mountain. People don’t dare do anything to me when I go down the mountain either. It’ll be fine as long as I don’t stir up trouble on my own.”
“On your own?” Jiang Cheng sneers. “Wei Wuxian, do you believe that even if you don’t stir up trouble on your own, trouble won’t come and find you? It’s often impossible to save someone, but there are thousands of ways to harm someone.”
You shrug. “A man with strength can defeat ten men with skill. I don’t care if they have thousands of ways. I’ll kill whoever comes.”
Your brother's tone cools. “You never listen to any of my opinions. One day, you’ll come to understand that I’m the one who’s right.”