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“A-yu?” Jiang Cheng could not help the waver in his voice as he spotted the young man in front of him. For once in his wretched life, some luck had fallen on his side. Originally he had been mad Jin Ling had run off before he had a good chance to scold the boy, but now he uttered a silent prayer for whichever god had created this chance meeting.
“Hahaha,” a nervous laugh came out of Mo Xuanyu’s plum-red mouth, “Sect Leader Jiang, I didn’t expect you to know this lowly one’s name.”
The statement made Jiang Cheng pause in his steps. Unconsciously, he tilted his head like one of the dogs he was so fond of in confusion.
“Well, I’ll be on my way- so sorry to interrupt your-” Jiang Cheng rushed to take hold of Mo Xuanyu’s arm before he could run off away from him or worse: back to a crowd.
“A-yu what are you talking about? Do you think I’d just forget you in a mere five months?” If he was paying a bit more attention, if he wasn’t so startled by the presence of the man who had stolen his heart only to throw it back at him when he stopped responding to his letters just a few months ago, maybe Jiang Cheng would have noticed the sheer confusion in Mo Xuanyu’s eyes. For now, though, the relief of having him back in his arms obscured his otherwise keen senses.
He stepped closer, one hand reaching up to cup Xuanyu’s cheek but hesitating at the last moment for fear of rubbing off his makeup. Xuanyu liked to experiment like that; doll himself up like the women on the streets did. Jiang Cheng liked that, the care Xuanyu put into himself even if strange for a man. Today he’s gone a little heavy on the white powder, and the rouge around his eyes evoked the image of a hanged ghost more than a maiden, but Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to care.
Mo Xuanyu opened his mouth, “Jiang-”
“Jiang Wanyin,” the voice of Hanguang-jun broke through the spell. They had been caught. Jiang Cheng was not a patient man to begin with, especially not for Lan Wangji. He pulled away for Mo Xuanyu’s sake–the boy had always been too nervous–but not before communicating with his eyes that he would find Xuanyu later. “Mo Xuanyu is under protection of the Lan Sect,” that ice wall finished. And wasn’t that a sword straight to the heart. There were too many people here- while he had been focused on figuring out Xuanyu’s strange behaviour, the various clan juniors on the nighthunt had regrouped around them.
So Jiang Cheng did not break down crying as he wanted to. Instead he let the fury that had forged Sandu Shengshou fuel him through the rest of the bloody interaction. Let everyone else assume his fury was one of righteousness for not being allowed to bring justice upon another demonic cultivator. Let no one know the depths of despair Jiang Cheng was falling into for being left again and for fucking Lan Wangji all over again. Jiang Cheng was not a patient man, but for this he could wait. Xuanyu couldn’t stay locked up in Gusu forever. There was time yet.
– – –
He had heard the whispers that Wei Wuxian had returned. It was impossible not to when the careful peace that had settled over the jianghu following his death was being disrupted day by day with Mo Xuanyu right in the middle of it.
It should be impossible, but if one person was known to defy impossibilities it was his stupid fucking sect brother who couldn’t even let him enjoy his life from the grave. At the back of his mind, the part uninhibited by pesky emotions, he knew it to be true. The path of logic all lined up too well. He wished there would stop being proof.
The shouting he had been willing to ignore if not for Jin Ling’s distinct voice amidst the commotion. Jiang Cheng was barely done putting on his boots when he heard the proper alarms. He rushed for his sword. His own feelings be damned, he would sooner kill himself than let anything happened to A-jie’s son.
Arriving at the Fragrance Palace was no more enlightening, but he confirmed Jin Ling to be safe at least. Apparently Mo Xuanyu and his bitch had tried to barge into the Chief Cultivator’s private quarters. Most surprising of all, Zewu-jun was pleading with his sworn-brother to let them in. Jiang Cheng may not have a stake in this particular fight, but he would be remiss to remove himself lest something notable trespassed.
Coming inside, all seemed normal. Only Mo Xuanyu’s delicate features twisting with barely concealed confusion and frustration indicated something was wrong.
Then Qin Su killed herself.
Jiang Cheng had never been particularly close with the new madam. Were she anyone else, he might even resent her for taking his sister’s rightful place. But she was a kind soul who doted on Jin Ling, lessening the absence of his mother. It was also through her that Jiang Cheng had been introduced to Xuanyu. The young madam was greeting him in-stead of her husband who had been pulled away for an emergency matter arising at one of the observation towers. At the same time, she had been tasked with caring for Jin Guangyao’s half-brother who had yet to catch up on his cultivation despite his age. When Qin Su was called away by one of her maids, Jiang Cheng had been left alone with Mo Xuanyu. The teen had been anxious, picking at the skin around his fingers and refusing to look straight into Jiang Cheng’s eyes. Normally it would make him proud to instill such sense of respectable fear in someone, but something about Xuanyu was different.
Teasing did not come naturally to Jiang Cheng–had not for years, not since he still called Wei Wuxian brother–but it came all too easily now. “What? You treat your brother like this just because he’s also sect leader?”
The boy almost jumped out of his skin, and half shrugged but still did not speak.
“Come on, won’t you at least introduce yourself?” Jiang Cheng was struggling to keep the mirth from his voice.
“Mo Yan, sir,” the boy whispered so quietly if Jiang Cheng had not had the ears of a cultivator, his voice would have been carried away by the wind.
“Speak up. You’re not a maiden to be so coy.”
Finally, the boy looked up at him with wide doe eyes. The early afternoon sun shone gently on his pupils, giving the brown a depth appropriate of a gemstone. For a moment, Jiang Cheng was breathless. Those thick eyelashes framed his eyes perfectly, casting a shadow over them. Jiang Cheng forced himself to look elsewhere, only to be captured by the rosy lips which the boy had parted to give way to a gasp. “Well?” He could pretend the pause was to give him space, not because his demure beauty had ignited something in Jiang Cheng he never thought possible before.
“Mo Yan, courtesy Xuanyu, sir.” He smiled, and everything about him was perfect. And Jiang Cheng fell in love instantly.
Now Qin Su was gone from the world, and Xuanyu from his arms. Jiang Cheng shook his head to rid himself of the memories. No use in being caught in the past if Xuanyu had chosen another.
“Yiling Patriarch!” Jin Guangyao’s voice dragged him back to the present. He drew his sword out of instinct more than conscious choice. “I wasn’t aware the Yiling Patriarch had returned to the world. We are honored by your presence. Forgive me for not having come out to welcome you.”
“San-ge?” Jiang Cheng hadn’t even realized Nie Huaisang was even in the room to begin with. When had he let his guard down so much? “What did you say just now? Is this not Mo Xuanyu?”
‘Yes,’ Jiang Cheng’s heart cried out, ‘This is all a big misunderstanding. He’s being possessed.’ Zidian sparked on his finger. One strike and Mo Xuanyu would be back and they could put it all behind them and Wei Wuxian would stop ruining Jiang Cheng’s already miserable, cursed life. Getting Xuanyu back would give Jiang Cheng lion’s guts and he would declare them sworn brothers and drag him back to Lotus Pier. No one would protest a practice even the Emperors participated in. Jiang Cheng would take a wife who would also dote on Xuanyu and when Xuanyu died early from his lacking golden core, Jiang Cheng would kill himself to join him and the poets would write songs about their love.
“Huaisang, A-Ling, both of you come here. Everyone, please be careful. He pulled out that sword, so he is doubtlessly the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian!”
Outrage rang throughout the room before Jin Guangyao’s calm voice continued its oh-so terribly logical revelation. “Ever since the Yiling Patriarch was crushed to pieces from the rebound of his malicious ghosts at the Burial Mounds, the Jin Clan of Lanling kept his sword. And in no time at all, the sword sealed itself. No one other than the Yiling Patriarch himself can draw it from its sheath.”
Jin Guangyao continued by explaining how Mo Xuanyu had stumbled upon some of the Yiling Patriarch’s writings while at Koi Tower, including one for a certain soul summoning array. In exchange for the soul, the summoner could call forth a vengeful ghost or evil spirit. Even Zidian would not help, as the caster had to willingly sacrifice their body and as such was not considered possession.
So Xuanyu was gone, but unlike in his fantasies there was no way to bring him back. He did not even bother chasing after Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji once they decided to flee from justice. He didn’t care. Wei Wuxian could go and die again. He always had to ruin everything. Nothing was sacred to that poisonous bastard. He could do no right- couldn’t even stay fucking dead.
The world was so small. The candles had flickered out in the commotion, but the heat was oppressive in the small room. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He could hardly see. Somewhere distant, he could feel the pain in his rib cage as he struggled to draw in air. He needed to leave. Mo Xuanyu was gone. Wei Wuxian was back. Xuanyu was dead. Wei Wuxian took his body. A-yu had left him. Wei Wuxian hadn’t even know.
– – –
In the end, Jiang Cheng surprised himself with his own decision. The dust from the crumbling of Guanyin Temple was not done settling when Wei Wuxian approached him.
The bastard- who had mere hours earlier declared his unending love for Lan Wangji in Xuanyu’s sweet voice- dared open his mouth to apologize.
“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng cut him off, “Shut up and never-” he was too tired to feel ashamed of the way his voice cracked, “let me see you again. It’s the least you can do.”
Wei Wuxian, finally a little wiser, only lowered his eyes, deprived Jiang Cheng of the milky brown eyes that had so drawn him in, and nodded. He turned to leave, but not before stabbing Jiang Cheng once more in the heart. “I’ll take care of him.”
And wasn’t that the cruelest way to be kind? To promise health and happiness to the body he had snatched from under Jiang Cheng’s scarred hands.
“Jiujiu?” Jin Ling’s voice came after nary a few minutes following Wei Wuxian’s departure. “Are you…” Good. At least the brat knew some tact.
Jiang Cheng knew he was crying. He could feel the hot tears against his wind-cooled cheeks, but he did not care. Only turned to make his way back to Lotus Pier. Alone, as he had been for so long and as he would be for long after, apparently.
Halfway through the journey, he realized what a wretched way this was to lose a loved one. Unlike Lan Wangji, he did not have the privilege of public mourning. He could not switch his robes to white, could not withdraw from festivities. He could not even mourn in private. Close as they may have been, he could not commission a memorial tablet. He was not family, and technically his body (corpse, his stupid heart supplied him) was still healthy and hale (healthier, in fact, now that Lan Wangji was personally ensuring he received three proper meals a day instead of the scraps the Mo’s gave him).
Jiang Cheng finally laughed at the irony of it all. The Yiling Patriarch may not have been in the habit of torturing virgins, but let it be said he knew how to be cruel.