Chapter Text
Jin Ling groaned at the mounting stack of paperwork. How the hell did Jiujiu and Xiao-Shushu manage to stay on top of running a sect and still have time for anything else? Jin Ling had no idea.
Between complaints, training schedules, and the occasional cousin trying to bury a knife in his back, Jin Ling was about ready to take Fairy and become a rogue cultivator.
It was stupid! No wonder Jiujiu had no patience for politics. It was such a waste of time, especially when there were night hunts and people dying because there weren't enough cultivators to help everyone.
Fairy whined at his feet, poking her cold nose into Jin Ling's hand. She was as bored as he was. "We'll see Jiujiu next week," he scratched behind Fairy's ears and smiled when her back leg pawed at the air in pleasure.
It would not have been a fun visit, not with the anniversary of Lotus Pier's fall. Jiujiu was always a ball of anger and grief, barking orders to ensure that everything was in place for the people of Yunmeng to release lanterns on the river in memory of those they had lost.
A permanent sorrow trailed after the inhabitants of Lotus Pier as they remembered all those lost, cultivators and civilians alike. Those who remembered the night the rivers turned red wore their heartbreak on their sleeves. And even the new disciples grieved for the sect members that would have been their elders.
Jin Ling had only known Lotus Pier under Jiujiu's leadership. Sure, his grandparents died that night, but he had never known them and could count on one hand the number of times Jiujiu had spoken about them.
The whole thing only served to remind him that no matter how much time he spent in Lotus Pier, he would always be a Jin. He was just a spectator, an outsider, to their grief. With nothing to share, no stories or memories, Jin Ling couldn't imagine a different Lotus Pier other than the one Jiujiu had built.
So, every year, Jin Ling awkwardly stood by Jiujiu as he delivered a short prayer for the dead before the inhabitants of Yunmeng. And this year promised to be especially weird, what with Da-jiu planning on being there.
Fairy's ears perked up as she turned, tail wagging, to the door. It was all the warning Jin Ling got before the doors flung open with a shout of "Little Mistress!"
He scrambled to his feet as two very familiar and very welcomed Lan disciples entered. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Fairy lunged at Jingyi, barking happily and waving her tail frantically.
"Jin-zongzhu," Sizhui bowed, and only the teasing smile kept Jin Ling from wanting to slap that Lan courtesy out of him. Honestly, friends and family were the only people you didn't have to be formal or artificially polite to. At least, that's how Jiujiu raised him to believe.
Jingyi tumbled to the ground, playfully wrestling with Fairy. Every time, he wasn't sure if it was him or Jingyi coming to see him, or the dog.
"Nighthunt!" Fairy wriggled under his hold, panting loudly. "There's been some corpses coming out of the Burial Mounds, so we thought we would rescue you and Wei-qianbei from boring sect stuff!"
Right. They wouldn't know. Da-jiu had disappeared off to Lotus Pier.
Wei Wuxian had developed the annoying habit of stopping by randomly, so often that Jin Ling had just had a room permanently ready for him. Sometimes, only for a night; other times, he would stay the whole week. Each time, Da-jiu managed to stir Jinlintai into a frenzy.
It was amazing how the elders backed off the second Da-jiu appeared. All Wei Wuxian had to do was sit beside him, eating snacks, not even bothering to pay attention, for the tide to turn in Jin Ling's favour. Spending and discipline training that the elders had been fighting him on for weeks suddenly lost all opposition.
Another added perk of Da-jiu's visits was that Jin Ling could sleep easily. No assassin dared to try to kill him in the middle of the night, not with the Yiling Laozu lurking in the room next door.
Did he have to deal with his liquor stores dropping at alarming levels? Yes. Or disciples complaining about being made to run extra laps? Also yes. But it was so worth it if it meant Da-jiu was there watching his back.
Wei Wuxian's spontaneous visits were all fine when it was to Jinlintai, but that could not be said when he pulled the same stunt in Lotus Pier.
"Listen." Jin Ling scowled as he brushed off Jingyi's arm from his shoulder. "Wei Wuxian and Jiujiu are finally not fighting. Whatever is happening in the Burial Mounds can't get in the way of that." Jin Ling wouldn't let a centuries-old haunted nightmare interrupt those two from hashing out their feelings.
"I don't think we should handle this without Wei-qianbei." The corner of Sizhui's mouth tugged into a slight frown, his words polite, but leaving no room to doubt how he felt.
Jin Ling crossed his arms, staring at his friend, "This is Wei Wuxian's first time in Lotus Pier since… You know…"
His words faltered at the memory of Jiujiu pleading for anyone he could find to pull Suibian from its sheath. Wei Wuxian had stayed clear until the twenty-fifth anniversary of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan's deaths. Jin Ling would attend the lantern ceremony on the actual date, but he was trying to give his uncles time to do whatever they needed to attempt to mend their relationship.
"Besides, it's a mourning period for them, and Da-jiu hasn't ever had a chance to be there for one."
"Are you sure leaving them alone together is a good idea?" Jingyi poked his side. "I don't think Hanguang-jun would be okay with Jiang-zongzhu killing Wei-qianbei twice."
"Jiujiu didn't kill him the first time!" Jin Ling bit back. Technically, Wei Wuxian killed himself. After Jiujiu broke the wards, which led to Sizhui's family being killed by Zufu's army, his traitorous mind supplied guiltily.
Ever since Sizhui explained his connection to the Ghost General and Da-jiu, Jin Ling had become distinctly aware of how much was stolen from his friend. Mainly by Jin Ling's family, unfortunately. Both sides of it. He winced. Jiujiu was the one person in the world Jin Ling trusted without question, but he respected the reasons Sizhui didn't.
"Wei-qianbei deserves to be with his family." There was an odd note to his voice, a cold mixture of guilt and old hurts.
Awkward silence reigned down on the three of them. Jingyi cast a concerned look at Sizhui, communicating without words like only those who grew up together could. Jealousy bit at him, greedily wanting to join in on that relationship.
Instead, he stared at Fairy's fur, burying his fingers in her soft coat. With Xiao-Shushu and Shenshen dead, the spirit dog was his only friend in Jinlintai. Gone were the days he could fly to Lotus Pier when the loneliness was too much.
As a sect leader, there was paperwork to complete and entrance requests to process. Jiujiu said it was stupid that the family didn't need permission to visit each other. Still, Xiao-Shushu had left a meticulously efficient filing system that Jin Ling was loath to get rid of. Jin Guangyao might have done terrible things, but there was no denying that he was a genius, especially for the administrative side of running a sect. If Jin Ling allowed for elements of it to stop now, there would never be a way to fix it.
So, yes, he did need to send an official request. Sorry, Jiujiu.
With a heavy sigh, he let go of Fairy. There was going to be so much paperwork for this spontaneous night hunt. But Jiujiu and Da-jiu deserved this. He rang a bell to summon a servant, gave the orders for the supplies necessary for the three of them, and let the elders know where he was going. As an afterthought, Jin Ling wrote a quick letter for Jiujiu, sealed it, and passed it on with the instruction that it should be sent out if they were not back within a week.
He ruffled Fairy's head, "You stay here and watch the fort," earning a whine of abandonment. Da-jiu had a knack for showing up whenever anyone started poking around the Burial Mounds, and if Fairy was around, he would be worse than useless.
"Wow, little mistress," Jingyi wiped a fake tear and whispered loudly to Sizhui, "they grow up so fast."
He looked Jingyi in the eye and commanded, "Fairy, get him!" Immediately, she set her eyes on the target and pounced. She bowled Jingyi over, licking his face furiously and rolling over his robes. From many years of experience, Jin Ling knew that dog fur was nearly impossible to get out of silk.
Without giving Jingyi a chance to wriggle free from Fairy, he grabbed Sizhui out of the study and stormed to the entrance. Honestly, the disrespect! In his own home. Jin Ling was pretty sure there were at least a hundred rules of proper conduct when in front of a sect leader.
Jin Ling ignored the trail of Sizhui's muffled laughter, letting his friend go when he doubled over, and continued his stubborn trek alone, cheeks burning with a fierce blush, all the way to the stairs of Jinlintai. When he could hear the sound of running, Jin Ling quickly hopped onto Suihua. The sword lurched into the air before evening out.
As he grew his golden core, the sword stopped feeling like a stranger. The memory of the moment of overwhelming pride when Xiao-Shushu handed him Jin Zixuan's sword. Suihua, the golden beauty that carried his father through the war. The sword that remained sheathed when the Ghost General plunged his hand through Jin Zixuan's heart. Jin Ling reached out reverently to grasp the sword for the first time.
The thrum energy was initially like a warm welcome, and for a second, Jin Ling had thought everything would be fine, that his father's sword could really be his. It only lasted a second before Suihua spiritually lashed out at him. The sword's anger burned his fingertips, threatening to drain his golden core if not sheathed immediately.
Quickly, he did. The fear of the reaction being noticed was nearly as great as the terror that he would never be able to use his sword.
What kind of cultivator couldn't even use their own blade?
Jin Ling had done his best to hide the wince, not to burst into tears and run from the hall. In front of the entire Jin sect and Jiujiu, the embarrassment of having Suihua reject him would have been too much.
He smiled and hoped it didn't look too much like a grimace, thanking Xiao-Shushu for presenting both his sword and courtesy name, doing his best to keep acting normal for the rest of the celebration. Foolishly, Jin Ling had also tried to avoid Jiujiu for the remainder of the night, terrified that his uncle would be able to read what was wrong the second he got a good look.
For weeks, Jin Ling avoided the sparring grounds. He claimed he was better off practicing alone, especially if it was only with his cousins, because they were not much of a challenge. Xiao-Shushu only smiled and tried to convince him that it was still good to work on his skills with others, but he didn't press the issue.
It wasn't until he got to Lotus Pier that Jin Ling couldn't avoid the issue much longer. Jiujiu didn't put up with his refusal to learn for a second. There was never hiding of anything from his uncle.
Thirteen and completely lost on how to use his father's sword, Jin Ling was easily defeated in a duel with a new Jiang disciple in a matter of seconds. Lying on the ground, exhausted, his golden core reaching a dangerously low level, tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. Jin Ling ignored the disciple's outstretched hand and bolted to his room.
Suihua lay on the floor, the glint of the metal glaring accusingly up at him as if asking why he wasn't like his father? He curled around his knees, heaving silent tears. It wasn't fair. Suihua should have stayed Jin Zixuan's faithful companion. Jin Ling would have gotten a sword that didn't hate him, and his mom could have been cheering on his fights, and none of that would have happened, all because of the Yiling Laozu.
The door opened, and without a sound, Jiujiu sat down beside him, placing Sandu on his lap. "Brat, did you even introduce yourself?" With a sniff, Jin Ling unburied his head from his knees, turning to look at his uncle. But Jiujiu was only focused on Sandu, with an odd expression. "Let the sword get to know you."
Hesitantly, half expecting Suihua to burn him again, Jin Ling pulled the sword onto his lap. Jiujiu walked him through, step by step, how to meditate with his sword. His uncle had never been one for explanations; his teaching style was more of a 'learn through action' type. But this was different. Jiujiu's words echoed with distant memories as if repeating someone else's words.
It made more sense now, after Guanyin Temple, to explain why Jiujiu knew exactly how to help. A tiny, very nasty voice whispered that at least he wasn't alone in this. Jin Ling tempered down the thought immediately. Nothing about that was okay, and no part of him should have any sort of relief about that.
But ever since then, Jin Ling has poured hours into bonding with Suihua. He let the sword get used to his presence, staying in the training yard long past anyone else, and slowly, they have become a team.
Now, Suihua glided through the harsh wind above the Yiling with ease, its steady pull on his golden core so familiar that Jin Ling barely registered it.
In front of him, Sizhui took the lead, his white robes cutting through the darkening clouds. The closer they got, it was only because of the Lan robes that he was able to keep track of Jingyi, even as he flew only an arm's length away. The air felt thickly coated with resentment, the oily miasma blotting out the sun, leaving everything a dull grey.
As they land on the outskirts, he's reminded of how much he hates the place.
The Burial Mounds never failed to cause the hair on Jin Ling's neck to stand on end. Even in the outskirts, dead-eyed crows watched as they moved through the decaying forest. The first time had been bad enough; at least then, he was unconscious for most of it, leaving with Jiujiu and Wei Wuxian.
This time, it was just them. A shiver ran down his spine as that reality hit him, and Jin Ling quickened his step to catch up to Sizhui at the front of their little group. He had no idea where they were or their destination, but he trusted Sizhui.
Plus, Da-jiu made this place livable once. The corpses that had attacked them before were called by Su She, and between the three of them, Jin Ling could almost convince himself that they would be fine.
Below his boots, the crunching of bones dismantled the lie instantly. This is not a place for the living, but only Jingyi seems to share the thought. His friend glanced around, eyes skirting the shadows that followed them. Yet Sizhui continued, strolling as easily as if they were in the Cloud Recesses.
This place was awful, and Jin Ling would hold that opinion until the day he died.
He glanced at Sizhui. The only person who was this nonchalant about the dead was Da-jiu. It was still hard to believe that the two of them had once called this place home. Jin Ling was sure that even if he spent a year here, the place would still terrify him.
Weirdos, the pair of them. Did they really not feel how creepy it was here? Everything seemed to want to kill them. Especially as the dried trees grew thick, erasing any light that might have snuck through. At this point, it was nearly impossible to see the path, let alone what was around them.
"Sizhui." Jingyi broke the odd, silent reverie that followed their group since landing, and Jin Ling was just glad he wasn't the one who caved first. "I think we should—" Before he could continue, a figure moved to their left.
Whipping around, Jin Ling's heart sank.
How did they miss them?
Scores of corpses move jerkily towards them, unnaturally silent. Jin Ling swears under his breath, the words choking on the thickening miasma. Fuck. His golden core struggled to fight against the resentment that was trying to sink its icy fingers into him. At this rate, they wouldn't even be able to fly out.
Their only choice was to fight, to fight and hope they could run far enough away that it wouldn't drain them completely to attempt swordflight.
Suihua cut through the first corpse. Rotting flesh stained the blade as Jin Ling aimed for the next. Jingyi's blade emerges from the neck of a corpse that managed to slip past Sizhui.
The two Lans, perfectly in sync, slice through creature after creature. The pair of twin white robes moves in more of a dance than a fight. But even as Sizhui managed to decapitate a corpse, it's not enough.
There were too many.
Jingyi went down first. Nails raked across his shoulder with enough force to knock him to his knees. Without sparing a thought, Jin Ling lunged towards his friend, Suihua, piercing the back of the corpse that had injured Jingyi.
He didn't notice until it was too late.
A dead thing, clad in tattered golden robes, reached its skeletal fingers towards him. A cold grip yanked his ankle back as he moved back to dodge. In horror, Jin Ling realized he was falling. Falling into the claps of the dozen dead fingers that scattered the ground like macabre blades of grass.
Jiujiu was going to be so mad.
The whispers grow into a storm, drowning out the sound of their deaths fast approaching.
The child.
His little one.
Ours?
No. No.
Precious one.
Return.
Return, return, returnreturnreturnreturn.
Return it to him.
A million voices scrambled over themselves to be heard. Jin Ling's head felt like it was going to burst. He clasped his hands to his ears in a desperate effort to hide from the sound. It was of no use, not when the voices seemed to resonate from inside his skull.
It did nothing. They were so loud, the shrieks of return bouncing inside his head. A spinning madness of sounds. Then, a shattering empty silence.
And Jin Ling knew no more.