Chapter Text
Yu Ziyuan takes the plans to the armoury. To Yuan Shing, who knows Wei Wuxian well enough to not need much explanation beyond the plans that he has written out in his own distinct style. Then she goes looking for her husband. Jiang Fengmian can sulk for days by evading her around Lotus Pier, and if she wants to explain herself to him tonight, then she has to tell him that she needs to speak to him before he pulls his vanishing act. Unless he’s gone already.
Assuming that he wouldn’t be indoors, she takes to the grounds and finds him much faster than she had expected. He’s surrounded by a crowd of senior and junior disciples, sparring with Qian Shuren the Yunmeng Jiang’s best swordmaster. Unlike during normal demonstration spars, they seem to be going at it without much regard for their students, moving so fast at times that she is sure the youngest disciples cannot follow the motions.
The children are still captivated, though, and she can understand why. Yu Ziyuan watches the two best Jiang-style swordsmen in the sect go at it, and it’s not about showing off, or teaching, or even about proving which of them is better. They are sparring at their best, and it’s beautiful.
It reminds her of the times she had seen Wei Changze and Jiang Fengmian spar during morning practice, the very few times that the man had visited Lotus Pier after her marriage to Jiang Fengmian.
“You still fight like you’re dancing with me, Fengmian-ge,” she remembers him saying. “I don’t know how much use you’ll be in battle.”
“We’re not at war, Changze.”
“But that doesn’t mean we’ll never have to kill, Fengmian-ge.”
“Our battles are with the dead, not the living. I don’t want to kill anyone.”
So many years later, and Jiang Fengmian still fights like that. He’s an exceptional swordsman; he’s taught Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng more than even she has. And although part of the reason for that is because she wields two weapons at once, and can afford to concentrate far more on offence, the truth was that if they weren't limited to use swords only, he would probably still have even odds of beating her. If he tried.
Just then, Jiang Fengmian sweeps back toward Qian Shuren, whose sword flies forward to meet him. With an elegant twist, Jiang Fengmian gets between the sword and Swordmaster – which is always either an incredibly advantageous or stupidly dangerous position to be in, depending on your skill level – taps his sword flat on his shoulder, then turns and blocks the returning sword in a smooth motion.
“I yield!” says Qian Shuren, to resounding cheers from the children watching. So indecorous; clearly they hadn’t noticed that she was present or they wouldn’t have dared. “You fight as well as ever, Sect Leader Jiang!”
He does fight as well as ever. Still graceful, still dancing instead of going in for the kill. He has not improved the slightest bit that she can see. Yu Ziyuan watches as Qian Shuren tells the disciples to disperse, reminding them to think about the match they had observed so that they could discuss it in detail tomorrow when she’s struck by the fact that she has never sparred with him before. She doesn’t know why she’s never realized that. Jiang Fengmian was usually not one to fight unless it was to teach, or during a night hunt, and they tended to night-hunt separately, after all. Few creatures required the presence of two cultivators with their abilities.
“Madam Yu,” says Qian Shuren, seeing her first.
“Master Qian,” she says, nodding respectfully. “I was waiting for Sect Leader Jiang.” There, now he couldn’t run or make excuses.
“Of course, My Lady Yu, Thank you for the spar, Shuren, I needed that.” With that strange statement, he gestures to her that they could go.
“You wished to speak to me?” he asks, when they’re halfway back.
“You wanted me to explain what I knew, but you left before I could.”
“You have decided to tell me, then?” he asks, voice mild but holding a faint amount of disbelief.
“I have. But it will… it will take some time. If you have any other business to complete today, I would suggest you complete that first before you meet me in my study.”
He looks at her thoughtfully then shakes his head. “I do not currently have any work that cannot be safely postponed to tomorrow morning. I will leave a note with my aide, and then I am fully at your disposal,” he says.
She nods, then walks ahead, leading the way to her room. Once there, he borrows a brush and some paper, quickly lettering a note to his aide that he sends with a passing servant, then turns to her. “Have you decided to tell me the entirety of the truth, or just some of it?” he asks.
She doesn’t answer, because it’s an unpleasant question and she would snap at him if she tries. But she will tell him the entirety of the truth. First, though, she needs to set up silencing talismans. Taking the right ones from her sleeves, she sets them up. When she turns around, Jiang Fengmian is standing and watching her carefully.
“You should probably sit down,” she says, gesturing to the cushions around the low table, then heads to the hiding place where she had concealed the scrolls. She carries the lot of them back to the table and sets them down. The first thing that she hands him is Jiang Cheng’s letter.
“I want you to know,” Yu Ziyuan says, not meeting his eyes, “that Jiang Cheng requested that you not be told. He said that the truth would break your heart, and that was why I did not inform you at once. It was at his request.”
“He had no right to ask for such a thing, I am his Sect Leader,” says Jiang Fengmian. He had not thought Jiang Cheng would be the one to make such a choice.
“This was a different Jiang Cheng,” she says. “The letter will explain, but, perhaps you should steel yourself before you read it. Our son writes from twenty years or so in the future. We are not alive there, and he has long been the Jiang Sect Leader.”
What a strange thing to say. He wonders why she believes this so sincerely. What if it was merely a hoax? “How do you know it’s real?” he asks.
“Please read it first. But I believed because of the handwriting. And his words. Heeding the warnings will lose us nothing but may save us so much grief, Sect Leader Jiang. I do apologize for not showing it to you sooner, that was improper,” she says, and inclines her head.
Curious, he begins to read.
I could not write to my father because it would break his heart, it does say, in Jiang Cheng’s own script. It says only you can protect us now. How had he made his children think that he was incapable of protecting them? It burned, to know that when the world was falling apart, it was not to him that Jiang Cheng would turn.
The other scrolls are filled with instructions, messages to be sent and a record of events from the first timeline, it says, and those must be the other scrolls that Yu Ziyuan has brought. The Wens will not be ready to move yet, so you and father have time to make alliances, to strengthen yourselves for however you choose to face the problem. Except, he had not even known there was a problem until this moment. How was he meant to prepare? Life was so empty without you, Jiang Cheng confesses, openly. Unashamedly. It feels like Jiang Fengmian’s heart is being crushed. His son, the one he knows would never admit such a thing. And Jiang Fengmian had not lived to see him grow into the man who wrote this letter.
Then Jiang Cheng writes of Wei Wuxian, and he reads in horror. You whipped him with Zidian for his insolence, though not strongly enough to kill him. He just knelt there…Wei Wuxian, the one you cannot tolerate, who you think will bring misfortune to our sect and lead to our downfall… he had a healer take out his own golden core, and give it to me… You hated him and were too strict, and father disciplined him too little as compensation, and I resented him secretly for years.
We all failed him; we did not even see him, behind his stupid ever-present smile. There is nothing that that boy would not do for us. My younger self will not know how deep his loyalty is…Wei Wuxian should not have to give up everything important in his life for me, and I, I would be spared having to live through each and every day aware of that guilt.
He can almost hear his heart pounding as he completes the letter, takes in his son’s informal address and ‘love’ offered to his mother, but. Wei Wuxian. Wei Ying. Gave up his golden core? And Jiang Cheng’s accusation of him rings clear – Father disciplined him too little, and somehow that had led to an altercation with the Wens, insult taken by them that they had used as an excuse to burn his sect to the ground.
Oh, gods, his sect. Lotus Pier. Everyone.
How could it be everyone? How could. Even if it was the Wens, how could they have lost… everyone present but Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian? How could… Jiang Fengmian sets the letter down gently.
“The scroll that explains the fall of lotus pier,” he asks, holding out a hand. Yu Ziyuan hands it to him, and he scans it for the section that Jiang Cheng had mentioned. He reads it quickly, searching for what went wrong, and wondering why he wasn’t there, why Wang Lingjiao was speaking only to Yu Ziyuan, and finally he arrives when his home is already half fallen.
He wasn’t even there.
The Wens had come for his family, his sect, for Lotus Pier, the clan and sect he had sworn to protect with his life, and he had just died, letting a power-hungry sect burn it to the ground over an imagined slight.
No wonder Jiang Cheng had written Yu Ziyuan, instead of him. What had Jiang Fengmian done, truly, but arrive too late to save his home, and die too soon to protect his children? He had failed everyone.
He puts the scroll down, closes his eyes and tries to even out his breathing. He feels like he’s falling, there’s nothing below, he’s just falling. A rush in his ears, his stomach twisted, his heart pounding in his throat.
They’re still alive, Jiang Fengmian reminds himself, repeats the words with every inhale and exhale in his mind, They’re. Still. Alive. Lets that certainty pull on him, and try to dispel the panic.
If Yu Ziyuan has been keeping this from him since he went to the Nie discussion conference, it made absolute sense why she had seemed out-of-sorts since then. The trip to Cloud Recesses makes sense, as well. Jiang Fengmian has an overwhelming urge to rush there to see his boys, too.
He looks up at Yu Ziyuan, who is watching him with a closed expression on her face.
“They’re still alive,” Jiang Fengmian tells her. That’s all that matters.
“They are,” says Yu Ziyuan. He stands up, and she says, “There’s a lot more to read, still.”
“I know. I’ll… I will come back in the morning.” He can’t right now. Tomorrow, they can work out a plan together, he will make Yu Ziyuan explain what contingencies she has started planning, and they can work on expanding them. They have the time to fix this.
He leaves before she can answer, making his way to the ancestral hall without conscious thought. He falls to his knees before his ancestors, then sets his hands and forehead on the ground, prostrate.
I swore to protect them, and I failed.
I wasn’t even here.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
He doesn’t know how much time passes, only that it’s long enough that the roiling, uncontrollable fear has time to settle into a more stable, seething worry. He finally raises himself back into a kneeling position.
“Thank you for the chance to fix my mistakes. I won’t fail everyone this time. No one will destroy my people a second time.”
He promises. He will not fail again.
0o0o0o0
Lan Xichen rereads Wei Wuxian’s homework even though he’s read it multiple times since Wei Wuxian had handed it to him. It’s an essay that he had asked him to write, about the differences between playing music a simple Lan melody called Attention, with spiritual and resentful energy. He didn’t want his newest student experimenting with something high-level like Clarity, after all, even though he had already proved that it could be done.
There’s something about it that just doesn’t make sense to him, as he rereads Wei Wuxian’s explanation. He looks up at the younger disciple, who is reading a new music scroll that Lan Xichen had brought, humming lightly in a few places as he worked out the music. He could read musical notation as well as any Lan, which meant that Lan Xichen didn’t have to sit through teaching him the songs, only how the spiritual energy played into it.
“Wuxian?” he says, to catch his attention. “I attempted to do as you have explained here, but I was unable to recreate it correctly. Could you tell me what I’m doing wrong?” he asks.
Wei Wuxian looks confused. “But you taught – Xichen-xiong, are you trying to play it using resentful energy?” he asks, eyes wide.
“Yes?” But Wei Wuxian is still staring in surprise. “What… what did you think that we were doing?” asks Lan Xichen.
“Experimenting! You said you wanted to investigate my claim that the Lan techniques were suitable for playing with any energy.”
“Yes, and isn’t that what we are doing?”
“But why do you want to try it?” asks Wei Wuxian.
“So that we can confirm your results before we show them to Uncle. I do not understand your surprise.”
“Xichen-ge. It’s… resentful energy. Everyone thinks that it’s unacceptable. Jiang Cheng even forbid me from using it unless my life was in danger! We’re not supposed to be doing this.”
“Wei Wuxian,” says Lan Xichen. It feels like something cold and heavy has dropped into his stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? I would never have asked you to do something you didn’t want to –”
“No no, I wanted to!” interrupts Wei Wuxian, waving his hand, “I spoke to Jiang Cheng, he said that since it’s with supervision, I could try. But Jiang sect is not so strict with rules as Lan sect is.”
“Wei Wuxian, I spoke to my uncle as well. He gave us his permission. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I don’t understand it. I hoped that–” he cuts himself off as the full implications of Wei Wuxian’s surprise sinks in. “Did you think that you would be the only one to try? That I wished to let you conduct improper, dangerous, experiments on my sect’s behalf without worrying about what could happen to you?”
“No, that’s not it,” says Wei Wuxian, shaking his head firmly, but he looks a little panicked, and Lan Xichen has been spending more time with him recently, is learning to read this boy. He’s lying.
“You– Oh god,” he says, putting the report down for a moment just to breathe, to calm himself as he should when in danger of being overcome by strong emotions. “Wei Wuxian…Young Master Wei. Please come here,” he says, gesturing to the space beside him.
He waits until Wei Wuxian comes over, and kneels there, concentrating on breathing evenly. He looks tense despite the small smile on his face, and he keeps his head lowered, looking down at the report in front of Lan Xichen instead of meeting his eyes.
“When I asked you if you were willing to study the effect you had discovered with Clarity with more of my sect’s songs, what exactly did you think you were agreeing to?”
“I. That we were going to study it together, what else?” he says, his voice light.
“Honestly. Please, I need to know,” says Lan Xichen, and Wei Wuxian glances up at him. Whatever he sees on Lan Xichen’s face makes him lose the smile, at least.
“Xichen-ge, I thought that in place of punishment like copying lines, I was being assigned to this extra work with you. And that it was very generous of you to teach me the Lan sect’s private songs.”
“And?”
He just shakes his head, not answering.
“Did you think that I only needed to teach you those songs because I did not wish to test them with resentful energy myself, Young Master Wei? Because it was forbidden, so I would make you use it in my place?”
He had. It’s written clear across his face. Xichen puts his hands together and bows, “That was unacceptable of me. I swear, at no point was this meant to be a punishment. I will tell Uncle of what happened here, and you may tell Sect Leader Jiang, I will accept any punishment he chooses for me for pressuring you into this.” Though after Uncle Qiren is through with him, there might not be much left of him to punish, not after Lan Xichen had been the one to push so hard for this in the first place.
“You would like my permission to teach Wei Wuxian our clan’s musical techniques? Not a sect-disciple, or even a rogue cultivator who helped us, the Head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang sect.”
“Yes, Uncle,” he had said.
“Explain.”
So Lan Xichen had explained. How Wei Wuxain had been able to break Cleansing into its compositional parts after hearing it just five times, how he had been able to distinguish when it was played incorrectly. That from merely that level of instruction – listening to Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji play it for him – he had been able to create a shortened version that worked on feral corpses.
“Cleansing cannot be used on corpses,” his uncle had countered, just as Lan Xichen had.
“He claims that he did not use spiritual energy,” he said, meeting his uncle’s eyes evenly.
“He dared?” asked Uncle, and Lan Xichen can see the anger build in his eyes. “That shameless boy, how dare he try something like that?”
“Uncle. He would have died if he had not figured that out. I, for one, am grateful that he was able to think so quickly when he was alone and in danger.”
Lan Xichen had watched as his uncle considered that, fury warring with relief, with the latter finally winning out.
“I suppose it is forgivable under the circumstances, then. We will warn him not to use it unless cornered and let the matter rest. I don’t see why he needs to learn more of our techniques,” he said.
“Wei Wuxian said that you were the one who asked him how controlling resentful energy was to be done. He said the Lan techniques seem to work with any energy already.” He saw his uncle freeze at what that implied, that the Lan had been hiding the secrets to demonic cultivation, possibly since their founding. If that idea became well known, regardless of the truth of it, it could mean a sect war. It could mean the other sects coming to annihilate the Lan.
“He didn’t seem to realize how dangerous it was to say so,” Lan Xichen said. Of that, he was almost sure.
“You want to teach him some more, to know if he is right?” asked Uncle.
“Yes. I think… we should know. If our techniques are so easily adapted to alternate modes of cultivation, we should be aware of it. So that we know what to look for. Isn’t that best for all of us?”
“No. We cannot encourage him to test the forbidden path, what would his sect think? And our sect’s elders would have you punished with the discipline whip, just for suggesting this.”
“I think that he is curious and that he would teach me if I ask him. Uncle, I know it is forbidden. But what if he is right?”
“I want to say no, I want to forbid you from ever speaking of this again,” Uncle had said, his eyes tight with worry.
“But we must try, must we not?”
Uncle had exhaled a shaky breath. “Lan Xichen. Child. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I believe I do, Uncle. The moment it seems our qi may be getting affected, I will stop it. I will be careful with him and myself. Finding out if what Wei Wuxian suspects of our techniques is true… is that not our responsibility, to our sect’s methods?”
And Uncle had agreed.
“Xichen-xiong, that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry.”
“I forced you to perform demonic cultivation against your wishes. There is no excuse.”
“Please, stop bowing to me, you haven’t done anything wrong, I just misunderstood,” says Wei Wuxian, clasping his arms, and Lan Xichen just blinks in confusion, because that was the point.
“I really don’t mind using the resentful energy, Xichen-xiong. It’s… a little uncomfortable, but I don’t care. I would have told you if I couldn’t bear to try it. I just don’t think that you should do it. That was why I was protesting.”
“Brother? Wei Ying?” asks Wangji, and Lan Xichen drops his arms to look up at his brother. He hadn’t even noticed him arrive. Wangji was aware that Wei Wuxian was learning music from him, but not the… exact purpose of their current study. Lan Xichen quickly rolls up the essay before Wangji can glance at it.
“It’s nothing, Lan Zhan. Xichen-xiong and I had a slight misunderstanding,” Wei Wuxian says, and Wangji looks closely at him before turning to Lan Xichen.
“Brother?”
“I think… Wangji if you could take over today’s lesson for Young Master Wei, I need to speak to Uncle.”
“No,” says Wangji, simply. “Wei Ying?”
“Your brother wants me to teach him how to play Attention, and other Lan songs… with resentful energy,” Wei Wuxian says.
“Young Master Wei, when I said that what we are doing here must be kept absolutely secret, I was not speaking lightly,” says Lan Xichen.
Understanding seems to flash across Wangji’s face, which doesn’t make sense. “Brother is scared,” he says, like it’s that simple.
“What?” asks Wei Wuxian.
“Wangji, don't...”
“We received a warning, that Cloud Recesses will burn. Brother is scared.”
“Wangji, that’s not…” he trails off when his brother looks at him. He can’t lie to him. He can’t. “I need to speak to Uncle. Please listen to Young Master Wei play the piece that he is learning today, I did not have time to,” he says, and is about to walk away.
“Xichen-xiong. Please don’t go. I’ll teach you if that’s really what you want,” says Wei Wuxian.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“That’s for me to decide. I know you’re not demanding this from me. I’m offering to teach you, this time. But Lan Zhan has to stay. If we’re both going to use resentful energy, there has to be someone here to spot us, to make sure we’re okay.”
Lan Xichen glances at his brother in silent question, and he nods. “I will stay.”
Wei Wuxian’s silver eyes are firm with conviction now. Perhaps he’s no longer lying. Lan Xichen should explain better as well, then.
“The reason I asked you for this… is because if you are right, and from what you did with your first piece it looks like you’re right, that means anyone who finds out that Lan cultivators can use demonic cultivation if they choose to will want to destroy our home.”
“Why would you… why would you want to find the proof then?” asks Wei Wuxian.
“It would be improper to ignore a potential facet of our cultivation technique merely because it makes us feel uncomfortable. Even Uncle agreed. It’s my responsibility, though you are free to refuse.”
“No, I’ll help, I said I would!” he says. “Watch this, Xichen-ge,” and he lifts his flute to his lips.
0o0o0o0
Lan Wangji listens as Wei Wuxian plays the music for Attention, one of the first pieces that young Lan disciples learn that uses spiritual energy. He stops in places to explain something, sometimes repeating the same phrase with spiritual and resentful energy, pointing to something on his scroll as he tries to explain the differences to Brother.
Lan Wangji is not surprised that Brother is finding it difficult to learn this; Wei Wuxian had come up with his idea as someone who had only experienced the Lan technique, never performed it, and with only one song. In contrast, Brother had more than a decade of experience with the Lan technique. He had a lot more to unlearn, first.
Maybe half an hour in, when Brother plays the notes to Attention on Liebing, it glows red instead of pale misty blue. Wei Wuxian claps his hands together, “Yes, Xichen-ge! That’s it!”
Brother’s face is narrowed in concentration as he completes the tune, and he looks thoughtful when he finishes. “Thank you, I understand what you mean, now. However, I’m glad to know that adapting it is not nearly as easy as you made it seem! It may be far easier to compose a different piece for the resentful energy than to force it through one optimized for spiritual energy.”
“What if that’s just because this piece is too simple, though?” asks Wei Wuxian. “It was actually pretty easy for Cleansing.”
“Cleansing is counter-intuitive,” says Wangji, because he has been listening. It makes both Brother and Wei Wuxian stare at him; Wei Wuxian with lips pursed in confusion, but Brother looks like he understands. He stands up.
“Wangji, please do help Wei Wuxian with the rest of his lesson. Wuxian, I think I can get us some scores that will work more easily than the ones that I have been teaching you this far. I will see you both tomorrow, I’ll need to look,” he says, and sweeps out of the room barely listening to Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s goodbyes.
“Lan Zhan,” says Wei Ying. “Are you sure that Lan-gege is alright?”
“Why?” asks Lan Wangji. He hasn’t forgotten that he had walked in on a supposed “misunderstanding” between his brother and Wei Wuxian, and he will be asking his brother about that, later. But if Wei Wuxian has noticed anything else, it would be better to know now.
“Hasn’t he been acting strange? Lan Zhan he – demonic cultivation. Is he serious? Do you know what that could do to his reputation?”
“That is why it is to be kept secret. For his and yours,” says Lan Wangji. Both their reputations… even their lives could be in danger if this got out. “You are fine?” Not to mention how demonic cultivation would probably try to kill him too.
“Oh yes, I’m fine,” says Wei Wuxian, shrugging off his concern like it doesn’t matter. “Would you like to listen now?” he asks.
“Mm,” says Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian begins to play Inquiry, without any spiritual energy. Wei Wuxian catches two of his mistakes himself, and Lan Wangji points out one place where he loses time. Besides that, he plays well.
“Why inquiry?” he asks, when Wei Wuxian is done. It’s one of the songs always played on the guqin. Spirits couldn’t speak back, otherwise.
“I really don’t know,” says Wei Wuxian. He looks like he can’t decide if he should stay or leave.
“Do you need to go?” asks Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian shakes his head no, quickly. “Sit. I will play,” says Lan Wangji. Cleansing would help him. Wei Wuxian sits down comfortably and closes his eyes like he usually does for meditation, and Lan Wangji begins playing the Song of Cleansing. And brother had said that this wouldn’t be useful, he thinks to himself, as he plays.
When he brings the song to a close, Wei Wuxian stays silent, still meditating. Lan Wangji takes the time to observe him. It’s so strange to see Wei Wuxian sitting still, even in class he’s usually fidgeting. He wonders if this means that he’s feeling worse than he’s admitting to. After he considers this, Lan Wangji plays Cleansing again from the beginning. He hopes that it’ll help.
To his surprise, just as he’s finishing his second play-through, Brother comes back inside holding a stack of books and scrolls. He seems surprised to see them there, too. His eyes narrow as Lan Wangji finishes playing Cleansing. Is he unwell?
Lan Wangji shakes his head once. He didn’t say so. But Brother will know that Wei Wuxian had stayed though, had not jumped up to tell him that it was unnecessary which was all but admission, probably.
Brother sits down and spreads out one of his scores, looking back over something he had been writing before he left. About a minute after Lan Wangji finishes playing, Wei Wuxian opens his eyes. “You came back, Xichen-xiong!” he says, eyes wide.
“I did. Are you fine, or shall we accompany you to the healers?” Lan Xichen asks.
“I’m fine. But maybe… I shouldn’t try again tomorrow? I’ll wait a few days?” he asks. He looks a little worried about making the request, and Lan Wangji sees how he relaxes when Brother smiles at him.
“Thank you for being honest, Wuxian, you can play normal music for the next few sessions. And if Wangji is correct, we won’t have to keep trying for very long.”
“What are you trying?” he asks, going over to peer over Brother’s shoulder.
“These are other scores that are considered difficult or counterintuitive to play,” he explains.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” says Wei Wuxian.
“Shouldn’t you head back? You’ve been here much longer than usual,” says Brother.
“Do you want me to leave, Xichen-ge? Otherwise, if you’re going to try, I’d like to watch,” he says.
“Okay,” says Brother. He looks up at Lan Wangji, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere. He nods back. He doesn’t have duties until his patrol after curfew today. “The Song of Reflection, or the Song of Discord?” he asks.
“Reflection,” answers Lan Wangji easily. It feels like either one should work, but Reflection was less likely to hurt them. Brother nods then plays it on Liebing. The first passage he plays with spiritual energy as usual, then stops and plays again from the beginning.
At first, it looks like he’s not playing with any energy at all, and then a faint red glow begins to gather around Liebing, just as it had earlier when he played Attention.
“Wow, you were right, Xichen-ge!” says Wei Wuxian, enthusiastic.
Lan Wangji can’t quite believe it. His brother was practising demonic cultivation. His sect’s music was… adaptable. Suddenly, the reason why certain songs, like The Song of Clarity, and The Song of Reflection were in the private, forbidden section of the library alongside some of the dangerous ones made so much more sense than it had before. But that also meant that someone else had known about the potential, had classified the Lan scores in such a way on purpose. (Lan Wangji had almost forgotten how it felt to listen to Reflection, it always made thinking easier, helped you put ideas together that had been just beyond your grasp. Even played with resentful energy, that property had not changed).
This was all but proof that their sect had had demonic cultivators in it, at some point. They would have to comb through the historical records to try and find out who it had been. Lan Wangji is mentally ordering the scores by how old they were, to try and decide which generation of ancestors he should begin looking into, when Brother stops playing and drops his flute. One hand goes to his chest, one to his mouth, and he curls in on himself, breathing harshly.
“Lan Zhan, play Cleansing again! Quickly!” says Wei Wuxian, and he obeys, quickly picking out the notes to Cleansing, relieved that he was now so familiar with the song.
“Xichen-ge,” says Wei Wuxian, kneeling close. “Can you hear me? Should we wait for Lan Zhan to finish, or take you directly to the healer?” Brother shakes his head no, for healer so Lan Wangji continues playing. He feels tense with worry though; he hadn’t expected his brother would react like that, wants to go over and see if he’s okay…
Stepping away from Brother, Wei Wuxian picks up his own flute and joins him in playing Cleansing. With two people playing it, its effect seems magnified, and the tense, pained expression on Brother’s face eases. By the time they finish, he almost looks normal again, if a little pale.
“Thank you,” he says, when the last notes rang out. “I was not expecting that.”
“We’re done,” says Lan Wangji, meeting his brother’s eyes. “No more. Either of you,” he adds, glancing at Wei Wuxian. They had been curious? Well, they had found some answers. Enough, even, to hold their own for a few minutes if they didn’t have access to their qi. But tampering with this further was stupid, and he wouldn’t let them. Not even if it took following them around and using the Lan silencing technique on them until they gave up. (It’s a good thing, he decides, that they both played the flute. He’d have to tie them up to keep them from playing the guqin).
He sees them look at each other, gauging if the other was okay with stopping, before Brother finally says, “Fine, no more demonic cultivation. Uncle will be satisfied to know what we learned today. We can just concentrate on you learning the Lan technique correctly from tomorrow, without the… experimentation,” says Brother.
“You mean you’ll still teach me?” asks Wei Wuxian.
“Yes,” says Brother. Lan Wangji can hear the ‘Of course, why not?’ but he doesn’t know if Wei Wuxian can.
“Even though these are meant for clan disciples only?” he asks. “I don’t deserve to –”
“Ridiculous,” says Lan Wangji, before Brother can respond. “Wei Ying has saved a sect disciple, and helped Brother now, to research secret Lan clan techniques. Wei Ying is deserving.”
He blinks at them both and then drops into a formal bow that feels strange, coming from him. “I am grateful for the honour, Young Master Lan, and Second Young Master Lan,” he says softly.
To Lan Wangji’s surprise, brother doesn’t stop him from bowing, he instead stands and drops into a bow of his own. “The Lan clan thanks you for your help, Young Master Wei of Yunmeng Jiang Clan.”
They both straighten and look at each other for a moment. “Xichen-xiong,” says Wei Wuxian, eyes bright. “Nothing will happen to the Cloud Recesses. We’ll help you fight the Wens, I promise.”
When Wei Wuxian turn to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes, he can feel the strength of his words. Wei Wuxian would be an excellent person to have at their side during a fight.
(Lan Wangji wants him nowhere near a fight with the Wens, where he would definitely get hurt.)
“Thank you,” says Brother, and he sounds exhausted.
Lan Wangji resolves to take the rabbit in his care to Brother’s quarters, after dinner. That will surely help. And if his qi still hasn’t settled by morning, he will inform Uncle.
0o0o0o0
Wei Wuxian is not sure why he thought that designing a fan for Nie Huaisang and getting it made would be the hard part.
(It turns out that that’s not the hard part.)
The research and design process had taken the better part of a month, but at least it was interesting, something he enjoyed doing, and he didn’t even have to feel guilty about it like he does when he’s planning a prank. And for the first time, instead of shamelessly begging for Wei Wuxian’s notes and cramming what he can from them, Nie Huaisang had participated, discussing possible arrays and what he might like his fan to do, and sitting through large texts to help find examples that Wei Wuxian could work off of.
Jiang Cheng had written the final letter to Uncle Jiang, and when Wei Wuxian read it over, he saw that Jiang Cheng had included a request for a new flute. “Jiang Cheng I –” but he was not sure what he wanted to say.
“Just shut up. It’s improper to keep using another sect’s instruments, especially when you’re the head disciple.” Wei Wuxian had patted his shidi’s head like a dog and then ducked out of the way of his half-hearted retaliatory punch.
Throughout it all, there were classes with Lan Qiren, and sparring and archery and two fake night-hunts under controlled conditions. There were also music lessons with Lan Xichen, with Lan Zhan joining them after a while. But Lan Xichen is surprisingly efficient during their lessons, taking no breaks, so more often than not Wei Wuxian had to go to the library where Lan Zhan was calmly copying mountains of books if he wanted to see him.
(If Wei Wuxian had moved most of their cultivation tool research sessions to the library if he knew Lan Zhan would be there, well. That’s not worth commenting on.)
So no, that wasn’t the hard part, and being so busy had the added advantage of leaving Wei Wuxian too busy to cause (much) mischief. Jiang Cheng and Lan Qiren are both definitely appreciative of this.
The hard part began when they received Uncle Jiang’s parcel, containing a lovely silvery-grey dizi, and two fans of the sort they had requested. Nie Huaisang had absolutely turned down the offer to keep the spare, “You’re not even letting me pay you for this one, Jiang-xiong,” and so Jiang Cheng had shrugged and offered it to him. Wei Wuxian had held his hands up. “I refuse to learn to use this too, Jiang Cheng, please don’t make me,” he’d whined, and for some reason, Jiang Cheng hadn’t hit him for it, had rolled his eyes and agreed that Wei Wuxian needed to get more sleep.
And then, once that was decided on, the three of them had come to a horrifying realization.
They needed to figure out how to fight with them.
Three of the arrays, a simple wind array that sends out a blast of air, one that made a slice of spiritual energy that should be able to slice a Yao, and one that released it more thickly, like a shield, kind of worked.
With a bit of practice, all three of them could make the wind go at least kind of in the direction that they wanted, and Jiang Cheng was getting pretty good at making the spiritual energy slices. But whenever they tried to fight sword-to-fan or even hand-to-fan, the fan wielder tended to lose.
Neither Jiang Cheng nor Nie Huaisang was particularly impressed the time that Wei Wuxian had chucked the unwieldy fan at Jiang Cheng (or tried, the thing didn’t even make a good projectile) and then got him into a chokehold to win the match.
“That’s it, I quit,” says Wei Wuxian, after a full week of this, and after a match during which Nie Huaisang had nearly defeated Wei Wuxian with a practice dagger while he tried to figure out defensive positions. He gets a sour look from his brother. “Oh come on, we just don’t know how to use them!” he snaps.
“I don’t see why it’s so hard, we fight with sticks all the time,” says Jiang Cheng, expression slipping into resigned confusion. He’s clearly sick of this too.
Nie Huaisang sheathes the dagger and bows deeply. “It’s fine, Wei-xiong. Jiang-xiong. You’ve already done more than I can repay, I can’t continue to trouble you like this. I’ll figure it out myself, or with someone back home when I return.” He looks so pitiful that Wei Wuxian groans.
“Fine, start again. This time with Jiang Cheng,” he says, dropping onto the grass and holding out the fan to his brother. Nie Huaisang blinks at him.
“We’re not leaving you to do this alone, Nie-xiong,” says Jiang Cheng firmly.
“Thank you so much, I -eep!” Wei Wuxian watches in amusement as Jiang Cheng easily shuts their friend’s thanks down with the most oddly dainty-and-aggressive fan-swipe that Wei Wuxian has ever seen. Maybe their enemies could just die of secondhand embarrassment if they pulled these out in battle? That would be so convenient…
“What on earth are you doing,” asks a really incredulous voice, and Wei Wuxian tilts his head back to see Jin Zixuan staring at Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng.
“Ah, Jin-xiong,” says Nie Huaisang, coming to a stop. As the person who hates Jin Zixuan the least, it’s best to let him talk. “We were just practising?”
“Like that?” Jin Zixuan asks, incredulous. Wei Wuxian finds himself almost sympathizing. Jin Zixuan had walked in when Jiang Cheng had lost his grip on the thing and had to leap after it in a really undignified way.
Key word being almost. This is the Peacock! “Well, we don’t know how to use it, seeing as we invented it,” says Wei Wuxian, sharply. Jin Zixuan blinks for a moment, and then he scowls like he only just remembered that he’s the proud Jin Sect heir who hates everything but gold and preening.
“Clearly you don’t,” he says, tilting his chin up like a prat. From down here, it just gives Wei Wuxian a better view up his nostrils, and Wei Wuxian stands up disgusted. Before he can demand that the peacock leave them alone, he holds out an imperious hand. “Show me the fan. I’ll show you how to use it.”
“You what?” asks Wei Wuxian.
Jin Zixuan doesn’t even answer just makes a ‘give it here’ gesture. Wei Wuxian glances back at Jiang Cheng, who looks just as mystified as Wei Wuxian, then shrugs and hands it over.
“Oh, it’s strong,” says Jin Zixuan like he hadn’t expected that, testing it lightly like he’s weighing it in his hand, and then giving an experimental swing.
“Did you think we were practising with a normal fan? It’d snap in half!” says Jiang Cheng.
“Don’t speak about things you know nothing about, Young Master Jiang. Young Master Nie, spar with me?” Nie Huaisang nods, and Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng back away as Nie Huaisang jumps toward Jin Zixuan. He blocks the first two stabs, and then he steps inside his reach, sticks the fan up and twists right around Nie Huaisang’ wrist, making him drop the dagger.
What?
Jin Zixuan hadn’t even looked stupid doing that.
“Fight me!” says Wei Wuxian, before he can tell himself that it’s a stupid idea. In which strange universe would Jin Zixuan trust him to come at him with a knife without supervision? But after a mildly suspicious look, and a glance back in the direction he came from, Jin Zixuan nods. “Really?” asks Wei Wuxian.
“You clearly don’t know what you’re doing,” he repeats. He looks so angry, like their incompetence is insulting him personally. His expression doesn’t remind him of Jiang Cheng when he’s in a snit, it doesn’t, Wei Wuxian tells himself, as he reaches out to take the dagger that Nie Huaisang hands him.
“No hurting each other,” Jiang Cheng says, firmly. “First to drop weapons, or yield.”
“Okay,” says Wei Wuxian, bouncing lightly on his feet, ready. Jin Zixuan only nods. His shidi sighs and Wei Wuxian sends him a look.
“Fine, begin,” says Jiang Cheng, halfheartedly.
Wei Wuxian takes a moment to eye Jin Zixuan carefully. They’ve sparred before, but that is always with swords. And even then, Wei Wuxian beats Jin Zixuan more than half of the time. He lunges forward in a simple move, an easy feint that is also easy to block because he doesn’t want to be punished for stabbing Jin Zixuan at the Cloud Recesses. Elder Brother Xichen would look all disappointed at him, and Lan Zhan would glare at him, and suddenly there’s a sharp pain in his elbow as it’s locked in place and he’s forcibly twisted back. He aims a desperate kick at Jin Zixuan, but is too late, the dagger falls from Wei Wuxian’s suddenly nerveless fingers.
Jin Zixuan releases him, looking rather smug, the Peacock. “Again!” snaps Wei Wuxian. This time Wei Wuxian wouldn’t go easy on him.
This time when Jiang Cheng says, “Begin,” sounding a little more interested, Wei Wuxian lunges at once. And Jin Zixuan actually holds him off, brings the fan up to meet his strikes easily, like it isn’t an unevenly weighted object that threatened to slide open at inconvenient times. This time when Jin Zixuan shoves the fan against his wrist as he had with Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian twists, takes his dagger with his other hand and spins to slide it towards Jin Zixuan’s throat, and freezes.
They both freeze, Jin Zixuan with a knife at his throat, and Wei Wuxian with the handle of the fan an inch away from his right eye, the offended eye watering at the idea of having the fan shoved handle-first into his eyeball and back; god that was disgusting! Why did the Peacock even think of that?
“I yield,” they both say at the same time, sullenly, and retract their weapons.
“Young Master Jin,” says Nie Huaisang, bowing lightly. “Could you please teach us how to use the fans to fight?” he says, sounding so hopeful.
“I have better things to do with my time,” he says, holding the fan out to Wei Wuxian, who snatches it back in irritation. If he hadn’t wanted to help, why was he even here?
“Oh, of course,” says Nie Huaisang, slumping a little. “I understand. This one thanks you for the demonstration, I’m sure Jiang-xiong and Wei-xiong have learned enough to teach me, now,” he says, with another quick bow.
That makes Jin Zixuan scowl harder. “They absolutely would not have,” he says, sounding affronted. “You can’t come crying to me if one of you manages to gouge someone’s eye out.”
There’s silence as they all digest that ugly image. “We won’t,” says Jiang Cheng shortly.
Jin Zixuan stares at all of them, then nods, and goes back the way he came. For some reason, instead of boiling over in rage, Nie Huaisang is smiling widely.
“Why are you so happy?” asks Wei Wuxian.
“Because finally, we have a teacher who knows what he’s doing!” says Nie Huaisang.
“We don’t. He just refused you and walked away,” Jiang Cheng points out.
“Oh, Jiang-xiong, don’t worry, Young Master Jin will help us eventually,” says Nie Huaisang, still smiling as he opens and shuts the second fan with a graceful flick of his wrist. Wei Wuxian shakes his head at Jiang Cheng when it looks like he’s about to argue with Nie Huaisang about this strange delusion. Let the poor boy have this, for the moment.
0o0o0o0
Jin Zixuan knew that Jiang Wanyin, Wei Wuxian, and Nie Huaisang were up to something. As were all the Lans. Jin Zixuan doesn’t know what the sudden obsession with scholarly pursuit had been caused by, but the library was several times more popular now than it had been at any other point during his stay here. Since they have the same classes, and the Jin disciples did not suddenly have more homework that needed reference material from the library, it had to be something else.
It’s his job to find out what. How dare the others try to keep Jin Sect in the dark, when the heirs of the other sects were in on it? Jin Zixuan generously volunteers his cousin and the other disciples to help the Lans in the library (for some reason they were making a spare copy of almost everything that they could), and slipped out to find his missing classmates because they had suddenly stopped hanging out at the library and started vanishing into the woods. It takes him two weeks more to track the Jiang and Nie heirs down while they’re hiding.
When he finally catches them in the act, it’s to see them fighting (unsanctioned fighting is illegal in the Cloud Recesses, he could get them in so much trouble for this. He wonders if the Jiang sect being shamed by having its heir and senior disciple sent home in disgrace might mean his father would decide to cancel his engagement to maiden Jiang... But probably not. Father wouldn't want to anger Mother like that, particularly when he believes a timid wife like Jiang Yanli would actually be preferable). But what really startles him is how terrible Jiang Wanyin is at using the fan. What is he even doing??? Why isn’t he holding it properly, this way he’ll just… Jiang Wanyin demonstrates exactly that by losing his grip and then leaping after the fan with a scowl.
Jin Zixuan should leave. He knows what they’re up to now, and it isn’t actually some grand conspiracy, just more Jiang foolishness with the youngest Nie roped in. But this is ridiculous.
So he intervenes, gives them a demonstration of how one really uses a makeshift weapon, and actually manages to put Wei Wuxian in his place not once but twice. (The fact that Jin Zixuan had to yield as well the second time is not to be mentioned.)
When the Nie sect heir had had the gall to ask him to teach them, as though he didn’t have better uses for his time, Jin Zixuan refuses him. He’s already wasted so much of his time just trying to figure out what they were up to. There’s absolutely no reason why he should help them; he doesn’t know why Young Master Nie had even asked.
But he had asked.
And Jin Zixuan couldn’t stop thinking about it.
While Jin Zixuan had used the most basic moves that mother taught him for use with improvised weapons, the fan that those three had made had more potential than that. If the tines were as strong as they seemed, they would be able to stop a dagger when open as well as closed, and there were several more forms he could think of that might work. It could even be used alongside a cultivator’s sword, for the moments when your sword was not in your hand, always the most vulnerable moment during a duel if your opponent dodged and reached you before you could recall your weapon to attack them from behind.
He kind of wants to try it.
It’s stupid; he should just commission a fan of his own, mother probably wouldn’t even say anything. But the others; his cousins, some of the other sect disciples… what would they say if he suddenly asked them to spar with him while he tried to figure it out? While Jin Zixuan is sure that he wouldn’t look as imbecilic as Jiang Wanyin had, surely he wouldn’t look particularly dignified either?
Why is he still obsessing about this? He has Suihua! He’s one of the best sword-masters of his age! He doesn’t need an extra weapon. He doesn’t.
Which is why when he notices the Jiang and Nie heirs and lead disciple missing the next day, he quickly volunteers the other students from his sect for copying duty again, pretends not to see the betrayed expression on Zixun’s face, and heads straight for the clearing in the woods.
They’re there, just as he suspected, and he watches as Jiang Wanyin opens up his fan and waves it at Wei Wuxian, who’s hit by a sudden gust of wind that has him scrunching his eyes shut, face turning away, sleeves billowing wildly. Jiang Wanyin takes that opportunity to dart forward, raising the fan like he’s going to hit Wei Wuxian in the collar bone with it – Jin Zixuan winces, what sort of dumb move was that? He’s wasted the opening – and Wei Wuxian dodges it easily, slipping behind him and twisting one leg around Jiang Wanyin’s, making him lose his balance. As he falls, he whips the fan out again, there’s a flash of spiritual energy and Wei Wuxian yelps and scrambles back clutching his shoulder.
“Sorry!”
“Do I look like a Ghoul to you? What the hell, Jiang Cheng?” he yells, breathing hard and rubbing his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I was trying for a gust of wind again!” They’d managed to put spell arrays into it? That must have been what Wei Wuxian meant when he said they had ‘invented’ the weapon. Mother would probably love to get her hands on one.
“Young Master Jin,” says Nie Huaisang, and both Jiang idiots stop glaring at each other to look at him.
“Um. Young Master Nie,” says Jin Zixuan, and promptly forgets everything else he had meant to say to explain his presence here.
“Why are you here, did you need something?” asks Jiang Wanyin.
“I…” came to help. But would they believe him, or would they think he was trying to steal from them? But they had asked him to help, so they shouldn’t think… Oh, but Jin Zixuan had refused them already, he hadn’t said ‘Let me think about it,’ so maybe he was no longer welcome to help? And now they’re looking at him like they have no idea why he’s here, and this was such a bad idea.
“Never mind!” he says sharply, and turns around to make an embarrassing tactical retreat, but that’s better than staying, which was far more embarrassing.
“Wait! Young Master Jin!” says Nie Huaisang, and he can hear quick footsteps approaching. “Did you find some extra time to help us, now?”
Jin Zixuan turns around slowly. “I did. If you still require it.” He hopes he hadn't made a face at 'if' because it is obvious that they still need help.
Nie Huaisang smiles at him, looking genuinely happy, “That’s wonderful, we definitely do! You were right, Wei-xiong couldn’t quite imitate you properly, Jin-xiong.”
“Hey!” says Wei Wuxian, and Jin Zixuan glances at him. If he tells him to go away, Jin Zixuan will have to. But he doesn’t look particularly angry. “I’ve been helping you for weeks, and this is the loyalty I get, Nie-xiong? You’re breaking my heart,” he says, sounding mock-wounded.
“Shut up, Wei Wuxian. So you’re really going to help us? In exchange for what?” asks Jiang Wanyin.
“I. I didn’t want it to be in exchange for anything. It looked like an interesting weapon, and you could use it better. But if the offer holds…” this might be a dumb idea, but he might as well ask. “If you could provide me with schematics to make one?” No. Shit, that sounds like he wants to steal their work. “Or…or if I could commission one of the same from you? My mother would be very interested in a weapon like that.”
They glance at each other, and Jin Zixuan can feel his patience thinning with every moment. He’s just about to say, ‘Forget it, you’re on your own,’ and leave, when Jiang Wanyin says, “We already have two. You’re welcome to one of them? If you need another one, we can get that made for you, later.”
“Yes, here,” says Young Master Nie, handing a fan to him. “Sect Leader Jiang sent us an extra.”
“Does this also… have extra arrays inlaid?”
“Yep!” says Wei Wuxian. “All eight arrays we designed are set in both, though we’ve only tested three out properly. We’ll need a less clandestine practice field to try out the rest. Come here, I’ll show you,” he says, grabbing the other fan from Jiang Wanyin’s hands and making the younger boy scowl.
Jin Zixuan steps forward to see better as Wei Wuxian spreads the fan open, speaking fast as he explains how to select an array and how it was put together. He’s still not sure that this was a good idea, but there’s no one here to disagree with him for making this decision. He listens to Wei Wuxian’s instructions, though he’s a little distracted; the fan he had been given is heavy and firm in his hands, the silk smooth to the touch. He’d just… just been given it, without any flattery to accompany it, without fanfare or hints of how indebted or complimented he should feel. As though it was just recompense for his presence, for trying to figure out a new weapon with them. As though he could have it, just because he had asked.
They’re such idiots, Jin Zixuan realizes, horrified.
Someone is definitely going to take advantage of them.
It’s irritating.
“So do you want to try?” asks Wei Wuxian.
Jin Zixuan flips the fan open with a smooth movement, observing the edges, feeling the threads of spiritual energy indicating where he should power the arrays. “Yes,” says Jin Zixuan.
He really does.
0o0o0o0
“I can’t believe Young Master Jin is making us do this!” one of the Jin disciples complains in a whisper, and Jin Zixun hushes him, glancing quickly at the Lan Sect disciples who are also in the library. Lan Wangji looks completely engrossed in his work and is sitting far enough away that he probably would not have heard, but some of the other Lan sect disciples are closer.
“This is not the place to complain. We will discuss it with Young Master Jin, later,” he says quietly, shooting a warning look at the other disciple.
It’s not that Zixun doesn’t agree with the boy; whenever they have free time between classes Jin Zixuan had taken to abandoning the rest of them here, and running away. He’s not sure what that’s about. None of the Jiang or Nie disciples have been forcefully volunteered like this, and it’s…irritating, to be given work that is usually reserved for punishment, and having to do so much of it without even an explanation.
They would talk to his cousin about it tonight. He’s seemed more distracted recently, as well, and Jin Zixun has to figure out what he’s trying to hide from them.
“The main clan disciples are always like that. They don’t have to do the grunt work,” says an unfamiliar voice, also pitched low as was appropriate in the library.
“Excuse me? Who are you?” asks Jin Zixun, offended, looking at the Lan disciple who had spoken.
“Su She, courtesy name Su Minshan,” he says easily, continuing his copying while he speaks. He doesn’t say anything else either, doesn’t elaborate on the incredibly rude statement he had just made.
“I am a clan disciple of Jin sect,” says Jin Zixun shortly. “Jin Zixun.”
That gets him an alarmed glance, then Su Minshan looks back down at his work, head lower than before. “Forgive me, I meant no disrespect, Young Master Jin,” he says. Meant no disrespect? How else was that statement supposed to be taken, from a no-name disciple from an unheard-of family like Su? But if Jin Zixun fights him on this, then Su Minshan could tell the elders that the Jin disciples were speaking poorly of their Sect’s heir behind his back. They would get in so much trouble for that. Both from the gossiping-is-forbidden stuck up Lan elders, and from back home once Uncle heard about it. He has a thing about respect.
Jin Zixun is going to scold the disciple that started this by complaining about Jin Zixuan in public properly once they get back to the privacy of their quarters. But first, to smooth this over; Su Minshan’s knuckles are white over his brush, and his face is red with embarrassment or anger.
“No offence taken, we are all restless from the monotony of this work,” says Jin Zixun, as diplomatically as he can. “Even so, you are wrong. Be careful not to repeat such a thing, others may not forgive you. Lan Wangji and I are here, and we are both clan disciples. My cousin has additional duties to our Clan, or he would be with us as well.” Not that Jin Zixun has any idea what those extra duties might be, that he needed to do them in secret, but it was better to imply such to this boy.
“Young master Jin is kind, please forgive me,” he says quietly. And Jin Zixun nods at him before continuing his work. They don’t say anything else for the next half hour, until Jin Zixuan actually comes back into the library. “Shall we go?”
To keep track of which books have been copied, and how much of them have been copied, there’s a register at the front that needs to be filled in, and a specific way to store unfinished copies until the full book was completed. On seeing Jin Zixuan, most of the disciples get up to call it a day. Jin Zixun usually pushes his way to the front, but he’s actually at an interesting part of this book, and five more minutes copying won’t ruin anything. He could go up when fewer people were crowding around the register.
When he looks up again, he realizes that all the other Jin disciples have finished packing up, and he’s the only one still working. A lot of curious eyes are on him.
“You can go, I’ll follow in a minute,” he says quickly, but Jin Zixuan just looks confused.
“No, we can wait for you, Zixun.”
“I’ll put that away for you when I’m leaving, Young Master Jin,” says Su Minshan. “Just leave it here.”
“What?”
Su Minshan pats the table beside his scrolls. “Just leave your things here, I will put them away correctly so that your whole group doesn’t have to wait for you to finish signing out.”
“Thank you, Young Master Su,” says Jin Zixun, a little confused by, but also grateful for, the gesture. A quick-drying spell over his last page later, he stacks everything together and leaves it beside Su Minshan, gathers his writing implements haphazardly and puts them in his bag.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” says Jin Zixun, once he’s out of the library, to Jin Zixuan.
“No, that’s fine. Were you copying something interesting? A manual?”
“No, it was a history. Of Qishan and Lanling before the cultivation clans were established.”
“Hm,” says Jin Zixuan, thoughtfully. “That sounds interesting.”
“It was,” Jin Zixun admits. It’s not something he ever would have sought out himself to read, but it had been surprisingly interesting to read how independent cultivators of the time organized against powerful undead corpses and ghosts.
Even if they manage to talk Jin Zixuan out of leaving them in the library for more copying, Jin Zixun might just go back to finish copying out that book.
It was Jin history, after all. He had as much right to the information in it as the Lan do.
(And the Lan sect disciples could probably use the help.)