Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian did not cry during his last day in Lotus Pier. Perhaps, had he been a good “bride” and wept and wailed all day as tradition demanded, his marriage would have been more fortunate. Had he truly understood what was to come in the next few days, he would have. He would have bawled all over his shijie and refused to move. Or more likely, he would have hugged his siblings and shidi and shimei that much tighter, glad for this final opportunity to protect them from the evils of the Wen. He definitely would have eaten more of Yunmeng’s deliciously spicy and savory cuisine (especially his shijie’s soup), savoring his last taste of home.
As it was, Wei Wuxian spent his last day in Lotus Pier expecting to return again in a week or so, as was custom for the bride to return to their maiden home for a visit soon after their marriage. Not that he was a maiden or even technically a bride, but he supposed it was an unusual marriage, and as the one taking the traditionally feminine role and going to join his betrothed’s clan, Wei Wuxian would take all the advantages he could get.
And despite his misgivings and the entire Jiang clan’s hesitance towards a marriage alliance with the Wen, it would afford their clan protection from the most powerful and aggressive of the five great clans. After the insubordination the clan heirs had shown in their escape from Muxi Mountain and the Wen Indoctrination, the Jiang braced themselves for an attack. Only, it never came, and the sect was left in their paranoia for over a year—then Wen Chao and a battalion of Wen soldiers showed up in Lotus Pier, requiring a marriage alliance between the Wen and Jiang clans in return for the Jiang’s continued survival.
Wei Wuxian and the rest of the sect was aching to finally battle with the Wen, but they knew the cost would be high and victory unlikely. If it would spare the lives of their sect members—all his adorable shidi and shimei—how could they refuse?
Wei Wuxian only wished he wasn’t marrying Wen Chao. If he had to marry a Wen, it could have at least been Wen Qing. Not only would she probably come to live with them in Lotus Pier, but then they could have discussed cultivation theories and experiments all day, and Wen Ning could have come too! (Of course, it would have been a little awkward since Jiang Cheng clearly liked Wen Qing, despite his furious denials.) Truthfully, he hadn’t ever given much thought to the question of marriage before this, but if he had to marry out of the clan, he would have preferred to marry—
He had to stop that thought there.
At least Wen-zongzhu had sent an impressive collection of betrothal gifts to the Jiang for the marriage. Wei Wuxian would take all the advantages he could get.
He brushed his fingers over an intricate gold hairpin emblazoned with the Wen clan’s sun. As an artist, he could appreciate the delicate flames bursting out from it, thin and fine, yet bold and powerful. It was clearly the work of an expert goldsmith, a truly expensive gift.
A gentle yank on his hair brought him back to the present.
“Oh! I’m sorry, A-Xian.” His shijie’s eyes were red and puffy.
He pouted. “Why are you crying on my wedding day, Shijie? Don’t you know that’s my job?”
She giggled wetly, hands shaking as they continued pulling and twisting his hair into the phoenix headdress that had been displayed prominently among the betrothal gifts. “Ah, I wouldn’t have to cry so much if only my A-Xian would shed a tear or two.”
“Shijie, if I cry, I’d ruin all your hard work! I don’t want to make my shijie fix up my face all over again.”
“Maybe I want to do my A-Xian’s make up forever and ever and ever. That way, he can never leave for his wedding.”
There was a huff from where his shidi was sprawled on Wei Wuxian's bed, acting all tough and bored, but he could never fool his shixiong. Wei Wuxian could clearly see the red in his eyes as they tracked their sister’s every move. “Just say the word, A-Jie, and I’ll push this idiot off the pier. That should give you plenty of time.”
“Hey!” Wei Wuxian gasped with delight. “Like you could catch me!”
“All I'd have to do is challenge you to a race, idiot. You’d be the first to jump in.”
He twisted to stick his tongue out at Jiang Cheng, but firm hands kept his head in place.
“Boys, be nice,” Shijie chided. “I’m nearly finished.”
The atmosphere sobered quickly. Wei Wuxian looked around his rooms, a strange feeling settling in his gut as he realized that soon, this room really wouldn’t be his at all. Soon, Lotus Pier wouldn’t be the place he returned to after every night hunt. It wouldn't be where he ran drills with the disciples and swam with them after a hot summer day or teased his shidi and rested with his shijie. It wouldn’t be where he would lay his head down at night, sure to rise in the morning and have an adventure to fill every one of his days. Soon, it wouldn’t be his home at all.
“Hand me that pin, A-Xian.” Shijie stuck it into the right side of the elaborate updo, and then, to his surprise, she pulled a silver lotus pin from her own hair and gently tucked it into the left side. She stepped back. “There,” she said with a satisfied smile.
Wei Wuxian looked at his reflection in the mirror. His shijie had expertly twisted his inky hair into the phoenix crown. The crown itself was also a golden Wen sun, its rays bursting around his head, almost giving him a divine light, dripping with rubies like sunlight falling from the heavens. His lips were painted red, and a similar shade was dusted around his black-lined eyes. Delicate gold and red earrings dangled from his recently pierced ears. The hairpins sat on either side of the tight bun at the back of his head, the silver lotus embedded with mother of pearl standing out starkly from the gold, red, and black. He realized it wasn’t just any hairpin—it was the one his shijie had worn nearly everyday since his earliest memories at Lotus Pier.
“Shijie—”
“I want you to have it, A-Xian. A reminder of your shijie’s love while we’re apart.”
He stared into the mirror again, looking at his shijie who stood over one shoulder, and his shidi who had moved to stand over the other. He took in all of their tired and red eyes. It had been a long three months—scratch that. It had been a long year. If the Wei Wuxian of a year ago learned he would be marrying Wen Chao, he would have laughed hysterically, assured in a certain impossibility. Wen Chao was a man who already had two wives and a large number of concubines and mistresses, all women. Why would he ever marry Wei Wuxian? And for that matter, why would Wei Wuxian ever marry Wen Chao? He was an idiot and a jerk, not to mention a poor cultivator in a clan they were preparing to war against. It turned out a lot could happen in three months.
“What if you just married Liu-jiejie? She’s looking for a husband right now, isn’t she?” Jiang Ching abruptly proposed, a hint of desperation seeping into his voice.
“Hm, she does make excellent pork buns. So spicy.” She was the daughter of the Lotus Pier’s best steamed bun maker, sweet and charming. Unfortunately, they all knew it would never work out. One of the three of them had to marry Wen Chao, after all. Wen-zongzhu wanted control of the rivers, and since his scheme to hold the clan heirs hostage had failed, it was certainly a bonus to take the most vulnerable Jiang hostage—it was only thanks to Jiang-shushu’s quick thinking that this part of Wen-zongzhu’s plan failed; Wei Wuxian could take care of himself, and he would gladly go to Nightless City in his shijie’s place.
“Don’t be foolish. The contract was signed months ago, and the Wen-dogs at our gates will not leave without Jiang Wuxian in that boat.”
The three siblings flinched as they turned in unison to the Furen of Lotus Pier as she regally glided into his rooms. Wei Wuxian stood, bowing with his siblings.
“A-Niang, are they here already?”
Her piercing gaze turned on his shijie. “Yes. Is he ready?”
“Yes, Yu-furen. I’m ready.” Even as he said it, his heart picked up pace in his chest.
He held steady as she looked him over, eyeing his hair, face, and the heavy red robes draped over his body. She nodded sharply. “Good.” Then she took a seat at his table. “A-Cheng, A-Li, leave us.”
The two glanced nervously at Wei Wuxian and their mother but followed her directions, sliding the door shut behind them. On his part, Wei Wuxian knelt at her feet, bowing.
“Get up, boy.”
Hesitating, he lifted his eyes to her face. It had been a long few months for her as well, and despite her strength as a cultivator, he swore he could see faint lines marring the skin around her eyes.
“Jiang Wuxian,” he straightened at the sound of his new name. “You know my husband has wanted to add you officially to the clan books for years, but I would not permit it. But these despicable Wen—“ she spat their name— “showed up at our gates demanding a betrothal between Wen-er-gongzi and A-Li.” She took a deep breath, features twisting into a grimace. Then, to his absolute horror, she bowed to him. “Wuxian, if you truly go through with this marriage, I will forever be in your debt. You saved me from sending A-Li to those dogs. Thank you.”
“Yu-furen! Please, stand up! Of course I couldn’t allow Shijie to marry Wen Chao! He’s less than a dog!”
The Furen straightened from her bow, snapping, “Wuxian! Address your sister properly.”
“Ah, sorry. A-Jie.”
“Of course we couldn’t allow A-Li to marry that spoiled brat! She is worth far more than him.”
Wei Wuxian nodded firmly. If there was one thing he and Madam Yu were in agreement on, it was that. His sister deserved the best man in the world.
Suddenly, the fervor trained from the woman in front of him, leaving the lines around her eyes more prominent. She looked old. “If I could, I wouldn’t allow you to marry him either, Wuxian.”
He stared at her.
“Don’t look at me like that, brat! You served faithfully as the Jiang’s head disciple for years, and no matter how I hate to admit it, you are brave, loyal, and an excellent brother to your siblings,” she said grudgingly. “You will be sorely missed.”
At her words, his dry eyes became a whole lot wetter. He let out a shaky breath, suddenly overwhelmed. What was wrong with him? Just because Yu-furen said a few… kind words, the tears he hadn’t even realized were there threatened to spill over. Yu-furen had never been kind to him, but that never bothered him. He wasn’t her child, and he did not long for or expect anything from her. Perhaps it was just the shock from this interaction that was making his eyes water.
A rough hand lifted his chin, and Wei Wuxian’s gaze was directed to look into her fierce eyes, softened with lines. “Dry your eyes, Wuxian. You are a son of the Jiang, worth far more than any Wen-dog. Truly, I am sorry there is nothing I can do to prevent this marriage.”
He swallowed, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears. “I know, Yu-furen.”
“Remember, just as we cannot refuse this alliance, the Wen do not want it to fail, and its success is contingent on the preservation of your life. That affords you some protection, but you must be wise and careful. Despite your foolish behavior on many occasions, I know you are capable of both.” She stared hard at him, continuing, “You may be marrying into the Wen, but if they harm a hair on your head, the Jiang will go to war.” She nodded decisively, and a chill ran down his spine. He could not allow that to happen. “Get up, Jiang Wuxian. We cannot keep the Wen waiting forever.”
They stood, and Yu-furen spent another few moments firmly straightening his robes and tucking stray hairs back into the headdress, scolding him as she carefully dried his watery eyes with her own handkerchief.
His siblings were waiting down the hall, Shijie worrying her bottom lip as Jiang Cheng paced furiously.
“Straighten up, both of you!”
They snapped to attention.
As their mother glided down the hall, his siblings each grabbed one of his arms, Shijie tucking his hand into her elbow to pull him close and Jiang Cheng clutching his other forearm in a bruising, protective grip. Together, they followed Yu-furen into the Sword Hall.
Jiang-shushu paced before the lotus throne, his usual serenity shaken, making him look strikingly similar to his temperamental son. He halted, swaying slightly in place when he caught sight of the rest of his family entering the hall. His wife went to stand by his side, and his three children bowed.
“A-Xian,” he gasped.
Wei Wuxian glanced up, brows rising in shock as he noted the tears streaming down his uncle’s face. “Jiang-shushu!”
“Your father would never forgive me.”
“My father?”
Jiang-shushu laughed wetly. “Your mother was unconventional and wild, but Changze was the true romantic. After all, he’s the one who chose to leave his sect to elope with a rogue cultivator.”
Yu-furen snorted very unladylike, adding, “The letters he wrote her were full of the most poetic nonsense. It’s a good thing they left; they would have infected all of Lotus Pier with their foolishness.”
“That they would have,” Jiang-shushu smiled, but it soon slid off his face as he once again took in Wei Wuxian’s wedding attire. “Oh, A-Xian, forgive me. Believe me when I say if there was any other way to protect the sect from the Wen, I would take it in a heartbeat.”
Wei Wuxian stepped forward, grabbing his uncle’s shaking hand. “I know, Jiang-shushu, I know. It’s true I don’t want to marry Wen Chao—he’s an absolute pig—” the hand in his flinched, and Wei Wuxian backtracked. “But at least Wen-zongzhu seems to have good taste in art! The betrothal gifts will definitely help stock up the treasury—oh! Maybe some of them would be good for Jiang Cheng’s future wife!”
As expected, Jiang Cheng growled. “I’m not re-gifting Wen gold to my betrothed! The Jiang clan can more than afford worthy betrothal gifts!”
“Besides, Jiang-shushu,” Wei Wuxian continued, ignoring his scowling brother. “This alliance will afford us protection from the Wen. Those were the terms of the contract. For the small price of this lowly one, my…my family will be protected. You know me, Shushu—protecting my sect will make me happier than anything.”
His uncle clasped his hands firmly around Wei Wuxian’s, giving them a tight squeeze. “The Wen clan is very dangerous, A-Xian. Do not forget that while you are within their walls. Be wise.”
Really, Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen were more alike than they realized; they scolded him for exactly the same things!
He smiled brightly. “When am I not?”
Jiang-shushu chuckled and dropped his hands. “I will trust you with this, A-Xian. Now, I don’t believe we can wait any longer. Wen Chao will be getting impatient.”
There was a collective shudder from around the room as they thought of the damage an impatient Wen Chao could do with the hundreds of Wen cultivators waiting on the river. The Wen really were taking no chances with this marriage.
“Yes, Jiang-shushu,” he nodded solemnly.
Madam Yu made him memorize the wedding proceedings thoroughly, so he knew the next step. He returned to the middle of the hall and kowtowed three times to Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen as they stood before the lotus throne. He took his time, making sure to do it just right. He owed his respect to both of them for taking him in after his parents died and raising him as a young master of the Jiang sect. Now, Yu-furen had even allowed him to join the clan and officially be a brother to her children, something Wei Wuxian would always be grateful for, even if it was only done to make him eligible for this marriage alliance.
When the bows were finished, Shijie helped him stand. She clutched him tightly to her chest, her arms somehow encompassing him entirely despite the fact he outgrew them years ago. In her arms, he felt like the small, shivering child who arrived at Lotus Pier almost a decade previously, and he changed his mind, deciding this whole thing was stupid. He didn’t want to leave his shijie. But he knew his duty and pulled away.
She rubbed her thumb beneath his eye, smiling softly. “My sweet A-Xian. Be brave, but even more importantly, be smart. I expect to see you in a few weeks, okay?”
“I promise, Shi—A-Jie.”
His adorable didi then decided that would be the best time to punch his arm, so Wei Wuxian swayed teasingly to the side, pouting in mock hurt. “Ouch, didi! How could you punch your dearest gege on the saddest day in his life when he’s already suffering so much! What will this poor gege have to do to earn his cute didi’s affection? Peel a basket full of lotus seeds? Slave over a pot of deliciously spicy soup? Stuff—”
Solid arms snatched him, clinging tight like the sticky dumpling he was. “Don’t you dare feed me your poison, idiot,” Jiang Cheng mumbled in his ear. “Just—just come home, okay? You better come home soon.” And then he shoved Wei Wuxian away, blushing furiously.
“Aw, I love you too, Chengcheng!”
“Wuxian! Stop acting so cheerful on your wedding day! Unfilial brat!”
He laughed, smiling softly as he caught the words Jiang Cheng muttered under his breath.
With the goodbyes done, his shijie approached with a red cloth, and he knew it was time. He took a deep breath, taking in the fresh but muggy smell of Lotus Pier during late summer, the scent of blooming lotus flowers drifting in from the lakes. He looked at his family one by one and bowed his head to allow his shijie better access. The thick cloth fell around his head, and Wei Wuxian’s vision became wedding red.
A familiar figure stood in front of him, and he allowed his brother to pull him onto his back. Again, Wei Wuxian technically wasn’t a bride, but this particular tradition allowed him one last cuddle with his beloved didi, so who was he to argue? It was too bad Jiang Cheng had been forbidden from arranging any door games—it would have been hilarious to watch Wen Chao struggle through them—but Wei Wuxian would take any advantage he could get.
He clung tightly to his brother as he felt a breeze lightly stir the veil, signifying they had left the sword hall and entered the training grounds. He heard faint sniffling around him, and he was glad he had the chance to say goodbye to the other disciples earlier that day. The littlest disciples had wailed and clung to his robes, and the older disciples had only bowed deeply (much to the shock of his poor heart), a sad look in their eyes. As they moved outside the walls of the sect and began the procession through the town, firecrackers crackled and popped, and drums pounded. He knew the Jiang disciples were forming close ranks around them, escorting Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to the docks where the bridal boat holding Wen Chao waited along with several other boats filled with soldiers.
Usually, he would journey to Nightless City in a carriage, but Jiang-shushu had managed to eek out an allowance for one of Yunmeng’s own wedding traditions. They would travel as far down the river as they could in a boat decked out in red before transferring to a carriage to take the wedding procession the rest of the way to his betrothed’s home.
Too soon, he heard the shift of stone to wood as they walked out onto the pier.
“There you are, Wei Ying!” Wen Chao complained. “We’ve been waiting for over an hour!”
Wuxian tightened his grip around Jiang Cheng, carefully biting back a clever retort. Jiang Cheng must have had similar thoughts because his grip around his knees responded in kind. Then, it quickly relaxed as Wei Wuxian was lifted from his brother’s back and carefully deposited on a cushioned seat. He threw out his hand desperately, reaching for his brother one last time. A familiar calloused hand squeezed around his own, and then it was gone. The rocking of the boat quickly smoothed out as they began sailing down the harbor, and the sounds of the joyous wedding procession gradually faded away.
A few days later, he stared up as earth fell around him, falling into the crevices of his torn red robes, dulling the brilliance of the dragons and phoenixes embroidered in gold. The dirt ran down his face, leaving behind muddy trails where it ran into the salty tears pouring from his eyes. Darkness pressed around him as the dirt fell in larger clumps and his cold chest struggled for breath. A sob wracked his heavy body, the only one that managed to break out from his exhausted, failing body. He apologized to his shijie, Jiang Cheng, Jiang-shushu, and Yu-furen. He couldn’t keep his promise.
He couldn’t keep his sister safe.