Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji spent more time around one another over the next few days than probably strictly appropriate, given the lack of chaperones.
(“No, your kids don’t count, idiot.”
“I tell you with all honesty that my sons are more than capable of supervising me and Lan Zhan.”
“…I suppose they are more mature than you. Fine. But don’t let this get back to Lan-xiansheng.”)
Qin Su enjoyed time with them, imagining her own child racing along beside them once they grew older. They had tutors for the Four Arts, of course—Wanyin had insisted, already preparing for the day they stepped up as true Jiang disciples and began cultivating their golden cores—but she liked simple afternoons with them spent in the kitchens or her office, quiet moments where she could enjoy their company as her nephews.
Jiang Wanyin joined them one afternoon as they waited for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to return from a nearby nighthunt, one that in all likelihood wouldn’t take the two of them much time at all.
Wei Wuxian swept into the main hall with a broad grin to let them know the yao had been eliminated, Lan Wangji a stalwart presence at his side.
“Here are your kids, then,” Jiang Wanyin said, hoisting A-Yuan back over his shoulder and dropping him into Wei Wuxian’s arms, a peal of giggles filling the air.
A-Yu looked up at Qin Su. When she smiled at him, he eased his hand out of hers and crossed to his father. “You weren’t hurt?” A-Yu asked quietly.
Wei Wuxian wasted no time in scooping him up as well, one child under both arms. A-Yuan kept laughing while A-Yu cautiously allowed himself a tiny smile. “Not even a scratch, Little Feather.” He grinned at Jiang Wanyin. “You’ll let me turn in my report later, right?”
“I see how it is,” Jiang Wanyin huffed, tone and eyes both playful. “Use them as an excuse for slacking off. That’s only going to work until one of them takes over as head disciple you know.”
“Ah, yes, yes, yes. Well, I think A-Yu is ready right now. What do you say, A-Yu? Do you want to be the YunmengJiang head disciple?”
“Not yet,” A-Yu said, his smile widening.
“I’ll be it,” A-Yuan stated. Wei Wuxian swept them out of the room with promises of beginning their training immediately.
“Stay out of the armoury!” Jiang Wanyin called after him.
Lan Wangji watched the entire exchange with a cool expression, and only acknowledged Jiang Wanyin with a small nod before following Wei Wuxian and the boys.
Driven from bed, her stomach growling and feeling hungrier than she ever had in her entire life (or at least since the previous afternoon), Qin Su found herself up and out of bed far earlier than most anyone else in Lotus Pier. Two of the kitchen aunties were up and about, and tutted over her while plying her with snacks, but besides them the only ones wandering the boardwalks were the night sentries. Or so she thought until she passed by one of the smaller courtyards on her way back to her room and spotted Lan Wangji sitting with his guqin in front of him, in deep contemplation of the river.
Qin Su hadn’t had much opportunity to speak with Lan Wangji before now. Her impression of him was one of recalcitrance bordering rudeness, and she did not entirely understand Wei Wuxian’s interest. The Second Jade of Lan was certainly beautiful, and perhaps he opened up more around those with whom he was comfortable, but she couldn’t help comparing him to Lan Xichen and his easy manners and gentle smiles.
Then again, Wanyin probably had an equal number of detractors—people who exclusively judged him based on his temper. She perhaps merely needed to get to know Lan Wangji better. During his visit, obviously Wei Wuxian commanded most of his attention, and the boys the rest of it. She supposed that if their courtship began in earnest they’d have to become accustomed to one another.
With her bowl of snacks in hand, she joined him. He’d been aggressively ignoring Jiang Wanyin the past couple of days, which Wei Wuxian both seemed to notice and subtly fret over. Maybe this was the chance she needed to help ease their way. Surely it had to be some small misunderstanding.
“Good morning, Lan-er-gongzi,” she said. He cut her a sidelong look and she smiled. “May I join you?”
Lan Wangji blinked at her and then inclined his head. She took a seat beside him. He shook his head when she offered to share the sesame candies and she settled back to munch on them. Lan Wangji returned his attention to his guqin and continued with the melody he’d been playing. It invoked a sense of mountainous longing which slid into her bones.
“That’s beautiful,” she said, once he’d finished the movement.
“…thank you,” he said, stilted and uncomfortable. Of the composition, he spoke no more.
Qin Su had the impression that he very badly wanted to escape. “We haven’t had much time to speak during your visit,” she said, just as he’d started to rise. Lan Wangji settled back down, his gaze still focused out across the water. Qin Su bit back a sigh. “Jiang-zongzhu and I are both grateful you’re here.”
At this, Lan Wangji sniffed. A very subtle sound that most people would probably have overlooked. She would have missed it entirely, if she hadn’t been watching him intently.
“What?” she asked.
Lan Wangji offered no sign whether or not he’d been surprised to be asked. “Jiang Wanyin is rarely grateful about anything,” he stated bluntly.
Qin Su’s cheeks flushed, the first stirrings of anger curling through her. “My husband made a point of inviting you here because his brother missed you. Shouldn’t you be the grateful one?”
Lan Wangji’s lips pressed together. “Jiang Wanyin keeps his golden core whereas Wei Ying has lost his own. Wei Ying suffers and no one notices. Wei Ying opens his heart to young orphans and is chastised for flippancy. No. Jiang Wanyin is not grateful.”
Qin Su took a deep breath and sternly chastised herself for wanting to cry a little. She might have, had he directed such words at her. “There are a great many people in this world who are judged unfairly,” she began. Lan Wangji’s face remained impassive and he did not respond. “It was long thought that you hated A-Xian.”
“False,” Lan Wangji stated unequivocally, looking mildly offended in a way that probably meant he wanted to burn down the world which had cast him in such a light.
That certainty warmed her through anyway. “We know that now. But your behaviour towards him in the past was easily misconstrued because no one knew you well enough to appreciate your true feelings. So, perhaps,” she said slowly. “As someone who has often been misunderstood themselves, you might offer my husband a small measure of grace.”
Lan Wangji cut a sidelong look at her, but she didn’t want to bother with trying to decipher it. She rolled over, rocking herself back and forth until she successfully got her knees under her and could push herself to her feet. She left with as much grace as possible, a relatively infinitesimal amount, but with her chin up.
Later that morning, once the rest of the house had woken to take breakfast together in the main hall, Lan Wangji joined them. He took his usual seat at Wei Wuxian’s table, the boys bracketed between them. He pushed his shoulders back and turned slightly towards the front of the room.
“Good morning, Jiang-zongzhu.”
Jiang Wanyin’s eyes bugged out of his head, which Lan Wangji ignored in favour of turning his attention to his meal.
Qin Su patted his knee beneath their table.
Great journeys started with a single step, after all.
“This is f*cking stupid,” Jiang Wanyin muttered to himself later that afternoon, tucked into Qin Su’s office to avoid the local wine merchants, who’d taken it upon themselves to argue over who deserved to have their offerings served at the sect’s head table. Qin Su had tried gently to let them know that the only one Jiang Wanyin had any real attachment to was Hefeng liquor, but had been roundly ignored. Eventually Qi Jinchi would step in and make a decision; neither herself nor Jiang Wanyin needed to be there for it.
“What’s that?” she asked absently, double-checking the kitchen accounts.
“Lan Xichen only ever smiles. Lan Wangji would rather bash his brains out against a wall than emote. I don’t know how to begin communicating with them about something insignificant, let alone anything like my brother’s actual marriage and future happiness.”
Qin Su smiled and turned her full attention towards where he glowered over a letter which had, from her cursory inspection, only included a short greeting thus far.
“I’ll write it,” she offered. “But only if you’re the one to discuss things with Jiang Hong when she comes to speak with you about Wen Qing.”
Jiang Wanyin frowned. “What?”
To the Sect Leader of GusuLan, Lan Xichen, Zewu-jun,
Thank you so much for your forbearance in allowing Hanguang-jun, Lan Wangji, to visit Lotus Pier. I am pleased to say that he and Wei Wuxian, have resolved whatever conflicts existed between them, and they have turned themselves towards more tender feelings.
The leadership of YunmengJiang officially request that GusuLan allow discussions to commence for the formalized courtship and eventual union of your sect heir Lan Wangi, stylized Hanguang-jun, and Wei Wuxian, our Head Disciple. They have expressed their intentions regarding one another and we are in full support of their desires. Included you will find a list of suggestions and acknowledgements regarding this courtship as well as potential articles for a future marriage.
We look forward to your favourable reply.
Jiang Wanyin, Sandu Shengshou, YunmengJiang Sect Leader
Qin Su, Madam Jiang
To the Leadership of YunmengJiang,
I am very gratified that my brother has been upfront about his intentions and that he and Wei-gognzi have come to an amicable decision.
Unfortunately, before we can enter into any formal agreements the matter of the Yin Iron must be resolved. I acknowledge that while Wei Wuxian acted in good faith regarding the DafanWen, there can be no doubt that the only good that might come of the Yin Iron is its destruction. Unless we can come to a quorum regarding this matter, I’m afraid we cannot move forward with any discussions regarding their union.
With all my good intentions and regards,
Lan Xichen, Zewu-jun, GusuLan Sect Leader.
“But what if another war happens?” Wei Wuxian demanded, pacing back and forth between them, hands buried in his hair. Lan Wangji’s gaze followed his path across the room.
“The only f*cking war that’s going to take place in the near future is everyone against you, and then only if you’re an idiot,” Jiang Wanyin stated.
“Husband,” Qin Su said with a gentle chastisem*nt in her tone.
This was not helping. Also, judging from Lan Wangji’s cross pursing of lips, only added to the Second Jade of Lan’s ideas regarding Jiang Wanyin’s ingratitude.
(They had thought about hiding the matter of Wei Wuxian’s lost golden core. Unfortunately, the horrible letter she’d foolishly sent to Lanling had wormed its way into the general consciousness; everyone now knew that the YunmengJiang head disciple could no longer cultivate the sword path.
“So f*cking what?” Wanyin snarled when Jiang Hong reluctantly conveyed the news from town. “Are you going to tell me to replace him?”
Jiang Hong merely offered a slow, unbothered blink. “With who?”
Any ambitious disciple under Qin Su’s father would have fallen onto this opening like a beast on a fresh kill. Qin Su had seen it when his head disciple had chosen to leave the sect, disloyally going in search of better opportunities in Lanling (in retrospect, perhaps lured by her father’s pernicious ‘friend’). The other disciples had tripped over one another in an attempt to curry favour and prove themselves a suitable successor. Even her mother had proposed a few of her particular favourites for the position, regardless of whether they were capable of fulfilling the duties required by a head disciple.
Jiang Hong’s nonresponse eased some of Wanyin’s concerns. “You can continue teaching the sword forms,” he decided. “Your Da-shixiong isn’t weaselling out of anything else without a damn good reason.”
Given that she would have been the best option, the subject hadn’t been brought up again.)
Jiang Wanyin rolled his eyes hard enough that his eye sockets probably felt strained. Honestly. Sometimes they reminded her of the worst of the silly protagonists in her books, all tragic miscommunication and poor sense.
“Wei Wuxian—” Jiang Wanyin began at a growl.
“A-Xian,” Wen Qing thankfully interrupted, “With one of the other great sects standing behind us, you don’t need it.”
Wei Wuxian raised his hand, palm up, allowing the Yin Iron to slip out of his sleeve and come to hover over his skin. Qin Su stiffened as biting cold suffused her very bones, a slow but growing murmur of wicked heresy whispering in her ear. It called forth memories of the twisted faces of her mother and father as they’d died, and Jin Guangyao’s body wracked with pain. It asked her if she wanted a world where her child might rule.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji murmured. He grabbed Wei Wuxian’s wrist and the Yin Iron fell lifelessly to the floor, hitting the wood with an echo far louder than which a small piece of metal should have been capable.
Jiang Wanyin pinched his lips. He took a deep breath and finally relaxed his too-tense shoulders.
Lan Xichen arrived shortly thereafter to supervise the Yin Iron’s destruction.
They left early in the morning and returned late at night.
Their party seemed small, for all its power. Only Wei Wuxian, Jiang Wanyin, the Twin Jades of Lan, and Wen Ning. Wen Qing, thus resigned to wait with Qin Su for hours interminable, joined her in pacing up and down the pier, neither of them openly admitting to watching the northwestern skies for their return.
“Walking is good for you,” Wen Qing said.
Popo had obligingly swept up both A-Yuan and A-Yu in the power of her easy and weathered affection. While Qin Su normally loved spending time with her nephews, the anxious press of worry against her heart stoppered any ability to maintain a happy air.
They’d been gone a long time already.
“How long does it take to destroy a silly little piece of metal?” Qin Su asked as they drew towards sunset, wringing her hands.
Wen Qing’s lips pressed tightly together. “It’s more than that,” she said.
Qin Su’s jaw clenched as the baby landed a solid kick upon her side. Qin Su knew that, for all Wen Qing definitely knew far more. But trying to walk back the silly flippancy would only embarrass her further. She rubbed her belly and continued their slow progress down the pier in silence.
The party arrived home close to midnight. Lan Wangji carried Wei Wuxian, unconscious, in his arms while Lan Xichen conveyed Wen Ning on his sword. They all looked rumpled and pale, and Qin Su’s heart tripped in alarm when she spotted the blood on Jiang Wanyin’s cheek and the dark stain spreading out across Wei Wuxian’s robes, soaking the purple cloth to nearly black.
“He’s all right,” Jiang Wanyin said when they landed. Lan Wangji levelled a practically frosty look at him. “He is! I’m not saying he’s not hurt, but he’ll recover.”
“Was it the backlash?” Wen Qing demanded, already fussing at Wei Wuxian’s side, dragging back his robes to get a good look at the injury. Qin Su knew very little of medicine, despite the a significant amount of time she’d spent in the infirmary, but she could tell that the wound he’d received had already started to close, however bad it had been.
“We were attacked,” Lan Wangji said, shortly. His lips pursed angrily.
“By whom?” Qin Su gasped.
“I’m afraid the assailant wore no clan regalia, nor introduced himself prior to his attempt to seize the seal. Any resemblance to persons of significance must have been unfortunately coincidental,” Lan Xichen said.
She looked at him, nearly looked away, and then snapped her attention back. Lan Xichen appeared a paragon of neutrality on the surface, but she could see cold fury in his eyes. She glanced at Jiang Wanyin. Her husband subtly shook his head and she decided not to pursue it for the moment; with the seal now destroyed, Lan Xichen would stay the week at Lotus Pier at least as they negotiated the marriage contract. She would have time to see if he needed a confidant.
She and Jiang Wanyin made sure their guests were settled before they returned to their rooms. Lan Wangji refused to leave Wei Wuxian alone in the infirmary, despite Wen Qing and Wen Ning insisting they would remain overnight. Qin Su regarded his presence as a comfort, undoubtedly one Wei Wuxian would appreciate once he woke.
“It was Jin Zixun,” Jiang Wanyin said as soon as their door slid shut behind them. “And about half a dozen other Jin disciples. I recognized all of them, but Zewu-jun is right. They didn’t identify themselves, and they weren’t wearing Jin colours. Not even the vermillion mark. They attacked at a critical point during the seal’s destruction. If we hadn’t been there…” He shook his head. “Wen Ning couldn’t have fought them all off on his own, and Wei Wuxian needed me and Lan Wangji to keep him grounded.” He sniffed angrily. “They got off a lucky shot. An arrow right through his stomach, before the backlash from the destruction of the seal killed them all.”
“Dishonourable,” she said, unsurprised.
“He’s been after Wei Wuxian since he returned home. We should have expected it.”
“And you? Were you hurt?” she asked.
He shook his head. Nevertheless, he did seem terribly tired. Qin Su helped him out of his robes and prepare for bed. He drew her down next to him, a hand atop her stomach. The baby obligingly kicked his palm, a feeling he chased across her skin until she lost control of her urge to giggle and practically cried laughing into his shoulder, smacking him ineffectually for every twitch of his fingers.
When she finally called for a halt, he removed his hand. Instead of allowing him to completely withdraw, though, she caught his fingers and kissed them one at a time. One of a hundred silly little gestures that her books had never described, and therefore felt personal to just them.
“Goodnight, my lady,” he murmured.
“Goodnight, Wanyin.”
Several mornings later, when they were all sat down to breakfast—save Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, who had chosen to eat in privacy with the boys—a messenger from LanlingJin arrived to announce the loss of several prominent members of their sect.
“Lost on a night hunt, their bravery will be remembered,” the message declared.
Lan Xichen made a small noise in the back of his throat. He rose and excused himself, disappearing out the door towards the river.
In her faculties as Madam Jiang, Qin Su took it upon herself to go in search of him once breakfast ended, not wishing to intrude upon Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in their last moments together for the next month at least. She found him standing on the edge of one of the furthest docks, staring out at the river.
“Zewu-jun,” she greeted.
Lan Xichen acknowledged her presence, but stood in silence. She waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.
“You surely will not be surprised to know that I valued Jin Guangyao very highly,” Lan Xichen told her. “And Jin Zixun caused him much suffering while he lived. I am ashamed that I do not feel much in the way of guilt over my part in his death.” His chin dipped down towards his chest. “It is a pettiness which is beneath me.”
“Jin Guangyao was an excellent man,” Qin Su said, absently touching her stomach. She dropped her hand quickly, fearing such a moment had been too obvious a tell, but Lan Xichen’s attention remained on the river. “And you are allowed to mourn him in whatever way brings you comfort. If that means, perhaps, a little pettiness towards someone who caused him harm, I don’t think he’d begrudge it.”
Lan Xichen’s lips twitched. “No. A-Yao always seemed oddly pleased when I expressed myself in such a way.”
Of course he had. He’d loved this man. Qin Su hoped Lan Xichen knew it.
She steadied herself and offered, “I myself am not mourning Jin Zixun’s passing. I—” She swallowed down the sudden wash of memory over his smug look when she’d narrowly escaped Jin Guangshan. “Encountered him several times. The only thing impressive about him was his cruelty.”
Lan Xichen sighed, eyes closing for a moment. “But surely even the cruellest of us merit our respect, simply because they are human?”
“I’m afraid I’m not a philosopher, Zewu-jun. I cannot give you the answer or debate partner you deserve.” Qin Su sighed a bit to herself. “But I know that he hurt many people beyond Lianfang-zun, including our Wen family. And… and he was very unkind to me.” She swallowed when Lan Xichen turned concerned eyes her way. “There are a great number of people who will not regret his death. You are, at least, in good company.”
Some of his usual warmth returned to his eyes, sliding slowly into his gaze, albeit banked with regret. “Thank you, Madam Jiang. I am fortunate to have your friendship.”
Qin Su smiled. This was what Jin Guangyao would have wanted for them. And even though she found herself thinking of him less and less, even with the imminent birth of their child, honouring him by fostering this relationship would be a testament to her gratitude for all he’d inadvertently given her.
Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji returned to Cloud Recesses, first to inform their sect of the Yin Iron’s destruction—as well as begin the circulation of the matter to the world at large by way—and second to inform their uncle of the agreement between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian had been bereft until Jiang Wanyin and the boys had gone to bully him into a better mood. None of them, Qin Su included, mentioned the dark bruise inching up over his collar or the shiny red quality that appeared prior to Lan Wangji’s departure.
Shared meals with her parents were such cold enough affairs that she’d been surprised the food had come out hot. And the first few times she’d eaten with Jiang Wanyin, before they’d found one another’s measure, had been awkward and laden down with their individual insecurities. Now the tables were filled with family and rowdy conversation, the likes of which she’d never enjoyed before.
Wei Wuxian distributed pieces of meat and a few vegetables between A-Yuan’s plate and A-Yu’s. A-Yu still didn’t eat nearly as much as Qin Su thought he should, but he did always make sure to finish whatever Wei Wuxian moved onto his plate, lighting up with the praise his father lavished on him when he did. (As long as it wasn’t fish.)
Wen Qing, Wen Popo, and Wen Ning rounded out their party. The first time Wen Ning had come to sit with them, Qin Su had watched him awkwardly hold a single cup of tea in his hands the entire meal before abandoning the cold contents. These days, she arranged for a hand warmer for him to hold in hopes not only that the warmth might seep in, but it might save any potentially wasted tea.
A-Yuan stuffed an enormous piece of fish in his mouth, which Wei Wuxian squawked over. “Manners, radish!”
“His manners were fine before he met you,” Wen Qing said. She hid a smile behind her cup of wine at Wei Wuxian’s squawking protest. Qin Su tried and failed not to giggle.
Jiang Wanyin looked towards Wei Wuxian. “What are you teaching my nephews, huh? You’d better believe that I’m not letting you teach my kid anything.”
Wei Wuxian’s mouth dropped open. “Jiang Cheng! You can’t say that! Who else are you going to trust to show your kid how to pick out the best lotus pods, huh? You need me.”
“Like I need a comb without teeth,” Jiang Wanyin snapped back.
Like you need water in which to swim, Qin Su thought fondly.
Wen Qing rolled her eyes and refilled her wine, nimbly avoiding Wei Wuxian’s grasping hands and placing it far enough away from him that he’d have to practically crawl over both A-Yu and her lap to get to it. The former he might’ve dared. The latter not so much.
A-Yu poked at his food, obligingly taking a bite whenever Wei Wuxian encouraged him to do so. He picked up a piece of chicken and then turned to Jiang Wanyin and asked him to blow on it for him. Wanyin did so, much to Wei Wuxian's soft-eyed appreciation.
“Jiang-furen,” Wen Qing said, “I have a list of items that require restocking in the infirmary. Would you have any problems if I took one of your disciples with me to collect them?”
“Go ahead,” Qin Su said. She bit back a smile and took a small bite of fish. “Take Jiang Hong.”
Wen Qing coughed delicately and then abruptly drained her wine again. She avoided looking across the hall towards where the disciples were dining. “Thank you Madam Jiang.”
“You should call her sister, Qing-jie, we’re all family here.”
Wen Qing cut a glare towards Wei Wuxian, underlied by the warmth in her eyes. When she turned that same warmth towards Qin Su, a wry little smile touched her lips. Qin Su nodded encouragingly. “Thank you, Su-mei.”
The simplicity of it, even if said with more than a little irony, rocked Qin Su back in her seat.
Qin Su had desperately searched for the feeling of warmth and family while she’d been growing up. Again and again she’d dashed herself up against her mother’s glacial disdain, her father’s indifference, hoping to shake some small measure of affection loose. She’d eaten alone many nights, half-ignoring the food in favour of whatever new book had caught her attention, too old for her maids to scold her for it. Abandoned to her own devices, the characters she read about, no matter how flat, had been her idea of decent company.
It suddenly struck Qin Su that she was happier now than she could ever remember being in her whole life. She lowered her hand to her stomach and swore that her child would never have cause to feel lonely. The baby kicked under her hand and she grinned.
She turned to share as much with Jiang Wanyin and caught his eyes; he’d already been watching her. Qin Su blushed and Jiang Wanyin dropped his chin to his chest and mumbled something under his breath. Qin Su placed her hand atop his on the floor between them, Zidian’s staticky aura raising the hair on her arms.
“What?” she asked.
“Your smile,” he said, quiet enough that the words were lost between Wei Wuxian’s laughter and A-Yuan trying to find out why fish wasn’t considered a vegetable. He blushed and shook his head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not,” she promised, squeezing his fingers.
He looked up, tilting his chin as though it weighed ten times more than it had only a moment before. Whatever he saw on her face, his shoulders relaxed.
The servants had just come to collect their dishes when a Jin messenger butterfly flit its way into the hall. It circled Jiang Wanyin for a moment until he held out his hand and it alighted onto his palm. His mouth tilted up at the side; her favourite of his smiles.
“It’s from Zixuan,” he announced. “A-Jie’s had the baby. It’s a boy.”
