Chapter Text
“Jin Guangyao?”
Meng Yao had not expected that name.
It was spoken out so lightly, almost carelessly, as though little thought had gone into it.
Still, that name was like cold water poured over his head. The meaning after that name was unmistakable. It's a declaration.
Perhaps, that was meant to reassure Madam Jin and the watching elders. Or maybe something else entirely.
However, the most important message was clear enough.
'Meng Yao would remain Jin Guangyao. Nothing more.'
A member of Jin clan, perhaps.
But never truly a son. Never an heir.
…
For a fleeting moment, everything felt almost laughable.
But still...
“It’s alright, Mother,” he said softly. “I’ve done it. I’ve been accepted.”
The boy could not help but smile while kneeling down in front of Jin clan's altar.
It had been a long journey.
He had gained much… and lost just as much.
Only for this day.
…
“It’s fine,” he told himself.
“I will prove myself.”
“One day… Father will have no choice but acknowledge me.”
…
However, that was a battle already lost. He and Jin Zixuan were born on the same day, to the same father...
Yet, their fates had been decided long before either of them could speak.
One was cherished.
The other… simply tolerated.
Because he was his mother’s son... No matter how much he tried, it was never enough.
…
He saw it, again and again.
The effortless privilege of the legitimate heir.
Jin Zixuan did nothing, knew nothing. Yet everything was placed into his hands.
Even if his own feelings were no less sincere. Nor was his efforts any less real...
When Jin Zixuan failed, he was forgiven unconditionally. When Jin Guangyao succeeded… it also passed unnoticed.
When his brother faltered, he cleaned the aftermath. When Jin Guangyao himself endured, his brother didn't even know.
Everything was expected.
…
Evil didn't need to begin in the darkness of anger or hatred.
Similarly... Only beneath a relentless sun did a withered seed, long buried and restrained, finally split open…
…and begin, quietly, taking root where no one could see.
...
“Husband, what name should we give our child?”
Qin Su rested a hand over her swollen belly, her eyes bright with anticipation. The preparations for tomorrow’s ceremony had clearly stirred her excitement.
She spoke eagerly, offering one name after another. Some had been suggested by the maids; others came from meanings she found auspicious and fitting. Each was explained with care, as though she could already see the child who would bear it.
Jin Guangyao listened attentively and patiently.
As he always did.
What expression should he wear?
In the end, he chose the one most familiar to him, a gentle smile, warm and reassuring.
“I think any name you choose will be a good one,” he said softly. “You’ve given so much. It’s only right that you decide.”
Qin Su seemed extremely pleased with that answer. She slipped into a sweet sleep, not knowing about the turmoils which were wrecking havoc in her beloved husband. And half brother.
…
That night, Jin Guangyao did not sleep.
Partly, it was to attend to his heavily pregnant wife, to ease her discomfort, to tend to the small needs that came with the final months.
But not entirely.
There were… other thoughts.
Tomorrow would be a grand occasion. Jin Sect had spared no effort in its preparations for this.
After all, it was the full-month ceremony of Jin Ling, the future, treasure and hope of Jin, who was born with blessings from the sky.
Jin Guangyao stayed awake all that night.
…
Early morning.
Jin Sect was wrapped in celebration; laughter and cheers echoed throughout Koi Tower. With it came immense pressure, the weight of it borne by servants and maids alike.
Jin Guangyao, though technically not one, was facing the same problem.
Busying with the reception for the ceremony, however, at some point, Jin Guangyao’s gaze fell upon Jin Zixuan, standing outside the hall, whom expression bright with uncomplicated joy.
Jin Guangyao closed his eyes, recalling his father’s words from yesterday.
'If I am destined to bear the consequences in his place…'
A quiet thought took form.
Something long suppressed, now finally permitted to surface.
'…then surely, it is not unreasonable…'
His lips curled faintly. Yet his eyes didn't.
‘…for him to bear some of them in mine.’
He knew exactly what that would cost, conveniently forgot there was another option of not doing anything.
Like a rolling stone on a steep hillside, nothing can be done now.
The long-buried seed, fed quietly over the years, had finally broke through the surface.
...
Jin Zixuan’s funeral.
Jin Guangyao knelt silently before the altar. The flickering light of the spirit candles cast a soft, golden hue across his face.
His expression was filled with grief, deep and restrained, convincing enough that, for a moment, people might forget that the man in the coffin wasn't truly his full brother.
Understandable.
While most of Jin clan's members, exhausted from a day that had turned too swiftly from celebration to mourning, gradually withdrew into uneasy rest, Jin Guangyao alone remained, keeping vigil.
Truly a dutiful brother…Or so it seemed.
He was calm, strangely, to sit there as though nothing in the world could disturb him.
No sorrow. Nor bliss. He simply knelt, as if suspended within his own thoughts.
Were there any real grieves?
Perhaps.
After all, what reasons would there be for him to maintain appearances when no one remained to witness them? When Jiang Yanli, the one who must have been affected the most by this, had already drifted to sleep?
Looking at another example from the history, if even Cao Pi, ruthless as he was, couldn't hide his expressions in a circumstance such as this, Jin Guangyao, naturally, was no different.
After a long while, Jin Guangyao lifted his head.
His gaze settled upon the memorial tablet.
“Brother…”
His voice was quiet.
“With your temperament, you would not have survived long within a clan such as this.”
He grabbed the hem of his golden uniform, crumbled it in the process.
“It was always bound to end this way.”
A short pause. As if he was gathering his breath.
“I merely allowed fate to arrive a little sooner.” The excuses fell softly, without force. “I will take care of sister-in-law… and Jin Ling. So...”
“Rest in peace.” The expression on his face was chillingly gentle under those fluttering light of the mourning candles.
All of this unfolded in a shivering cold, windy night of autumn.
…
Jiang Yanli's funeral.
Jin Guangyao once again knelt in a funeral hall.
The difference was, this time, it was for his one and only sister-in-law.
He put on a flawless facade, as a default. This time, it was a measured and impeccable mask.
Still, to those who looked closely enough, there was something else beneath the surface of those dark eyes, something faintly… ironic.
Jin Ling, that ill-fated child, had lost both parents before he could even understand what loss meant and even had to attend both funerals as a helpless baby.
He had been crying without pause since this morning. Whether from instinct… or something deeper, no one could say. But his loudly heartbreaking cries were quickly drowned out by all of those biting conversations, judgments, and carefully disguised accusations of the strangers, who had absolutely no ounce of blood link with Jin clan.
The hall of mourning didn't felt like a place for grief as it should be, and way more like a court for making conclusions, blaming and shaping of a narrative conveniently for only one side.
All directed, of course, toward the same villain - Yilinglaozu Wei Wuxian.
The most remarkable of all was the voice of Jiang Wanyin, the brother of the woman lying within the coffin.
His voice rang the loudest among those condemning the very person she had died to protect, the person she had chosen.
What a… fitting funeral.
...
After some time, Jin Guangyao inclined his head slightly toward Jin Guangshan, requesting leave under the pretense of official duties.
Different from usual, permission was granted easily.
Of course.
...
In the quiet of his private study, the noise of mourning faded into nothing.
Jin Guangyao set aside a report and leaned back, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
Before him, Su She stood, recounting what had transpired in the hall after his departure.
When he finished, he hesitate, then spoke anyway.
“Sir… everything unfolded exactly as planned.”
A short pause.
“How did you foresee that Young Madam Jin would sacrifice herself for Wei Wuxian?”
Jin Guangyao opened his eyes.
“You give me too much credit, Su She,” he said mildly. “For her to step forward of her own accord… I didn't anticipate it.”
His tone was gentle as silk, while his expression extremely composed. There was nothing in him that suggested uncertainty.
Su She lowered his head. He knew when not to ask further.
…
A soft chuckle slipped from Jin Guangyao’s lips.
“Su She,” he said, almost idly, “did you know, in the distant western regions, yellow is taken as the color of betrayal, while purple signifies royalty?”
A faint tilt of his head.
“Yet here, in the Central Plains, the meanings are reversed.”
“Sir, you means,” Su She replied. “They are the same colors, in a same world… but people insist on giving them entirely different meanings?”
“Most colors are like this,” Jin Guangyao said slowly, as if musing to himself. “They soften, conceal, and distort things... each in their own way.”
A brief pause.
“Only white does not.”
His gaze drifted, unfocused.
“It exposes. Leaving no room for embellishment… no mercy for imperfection.”
“Every flaw, every stain, once set against it, becomes impossible to ignore.”
Su She remained silent.
Only now did he recall how much his master had drunk while receiving mourning guests.
Jin Guangyao was not entirely sober at this moment. Perhaps that was why he spoke more than usual.
“Isn’t that why it is chosen for mourning?” Jin Guangyao murmured softly. “To send the dead onward unadorned… and cleansed...if not in truth, then at least in appearance... A final courtesy before they depart this world.”
Silence lingered.
“Don't you think,” he asked suddenly, “my sister-in-law was remarkable?” His eyes became muddled.
Su She looked up slightly.
“After my brother’s death, her position within Jin Sect would have been… precarious.”
“Jin Ling is too young. And my father…” He smiled bitterly. “Has grown rather indulgent of late.”
“It wouldn't have been impossible for him to be… displaced.”
Su She shivered. He didn't need to ask which "him" was mentioned.
A faint, cruel smile touched Jin Guangyao’s lips, seeing that. “My sister in law... will be remembered at her finest.”
“Forever untouched by what might have followed.” His voice remained soft. “A favorable outcome, don’t you think?”
Su She eagerly nodded.
It was, in every sense, a favorable outcome. Beneficial to all involved... save, perhaps, Wei Wuxian.
...
Jin Guangyao picked up another report. His expression remained calm, as though nothing at all had happened.
Su She lowered his gaze.
For reasons he could not name, a chill crept down his spine.
And, quietly... he found himself relieved that he stood on the same side as the man before him.
...
“It was a brilliant plan, sir,” Su She, regained his composure, spoke with a faint smile. “But that Wei… I doubt he would ever agree.”
Jin Guangyao did not respond. He's busy paying attention to the report in his hands.
Su She let out a soft scoff.
“Why does he cling so stubbornly to Jiang clan?”
“If he allowed himself even a moment to think… he would realize how little sense it is.”
“Su She,” Jin Guangyao said mildly,
“that is Wei Wuxian’s own decision. It's not our place to question.”
“…Of course, sir.”
A brief pause.
“Though… regarding Jiang Wanyin…”
Su She’s tone shifted, more cautious now.
“A guy who could turn his blade against the shixiong who stood beside him for years...”
"I'm afraid such a bastard might turn his fangs at us if opportunity arises. ”
Jin Guangyao smiled faintly.
“There's no need for concern.”
“Su She, Sect Leader Jiang is not a difficult man to understand. A few well-thought compliments, a bit of consideration…And he will readily accept even the most unexpected allies.”
His tone remained gentle. But his eyes weren't.
“With a little care, placing a few of our people within Jiang clan should prove… quite effortless, don't you think?”
Understanding dawned across Su She’s face. A quiet snicker escaped his lips.
“Of course, sir.”
“After all… everyone appreciates a friendly mouth near their ears.”
Jin Guangyao did not answer. But the curve of his smile deepened slightly.
...
It had been a lively day.
Jin Guangyao sat at ease, working as his loyal subordinate delivered today's reports.
His expression mild, almost inattentive.
At his side, Su She stood with lowered head, as though deaf to anything not directly addressed to him.
Across the room, Xue Yang sprawled along the couch in a posture so careless it bordered on insolence. He tilted his head, grinning. “Hey. Heard what happened this morning?”
“If you refer to Sect Leader Jiang,” Jin Guangyao replied lightly, “I have.”
Xue Yang let out a short, mocking laugh. “Temper like that… He snaps at the slightest thing. A mad dog, if you ask me. I don’t know where he got the delusion he stands above others. What do you think?”
“You’re right,” Su She added quickly, unable to resist. “It is unfortunate others do not see it so clearly.”
Xue Yang shot him a sharp look. Su She immediately lowered his head again. "Hey, I'm asking you, dwarf!"
Jin Guangyao smiled. A quiet, chilling smile.
“Are you ignoring me?” Xue Yang leaned forward. “Or have you gone deaf?”
“Deaf?” Jin Guangyao repeated, still smiling. “No. I'm merely selective.”
“Tch. You’re insufferable.”
“Then perhaps,” Jin Guangyao said mildly, “Xie Chengmei, you should try addressing me properly.”
Xue Yang clicked his tongue. “'Sir', You’re as petty as your height.”
“Perhaps.” The answer came easily.
Xue Yang’s grin widened. “Fine, then. What’s your takes? Or do you planning to act mute, too?”
Jin Guangyao folded his hands in the sleeves.
“Thanks to his temper, those who once stood beside him have begun to withdraw. That alone makes matters… convenient.”
Xue Yang snorted. “Convenient for you, maybe. Stop pretend you’re not the worst of them.”
Jin Guangyao only inclined his head, as though accepting the accusation.
“Sir,” Su She interjected, eager to regain favor, “your strategy has worked flawlessly. That Jiang has yet to realize the prison he built for himself. No true allies, no equals, only subordinates who obey him reluctantly.”
Jin Guangyao’s gaze lowered slightly. “He's not entirely alone,” he said. “Jin Ling remains.”
Su She hesitated, then forced a laugh. “Ah, yes. My oversight. The young master still stands at his side.”
Xue Yang’s eyes gleamed. “That boy…what a fine leash you’ve placed on him. With that, you can guide where the dog bites, can’t you?”
“You overestimate me,” Jin Guangyao replied gently.
“Do I?” A faint pause.
Then...“I simply ensure that certain outcomes remain… likely.”
Silence lingered for a moment before Xue Yang leaned back again, amused.
"See? I bet you're planning to use that brat until the end, don't ya? So much for promising to make him your heir, hah?"
“Well,” Jin Guangyao continued, almost idly, “he's still lacking a lot.”
“A poor mix of blood, if you ask me,” Xue Yang said.
“Sir,” Su She added cautiously, “it's too early to name an heir.”
Jin Guangyao’s smile did not change.
“I gave my word,” he said softly. “To my brother… and mother.”
A slight pause.
“Jin Ling will inherit.”
His tone was calm, almost gentle.
“After all, I did receive her assistance when my position was… less secure.”
Only then did he glance up, expression unchanged.
“It'd be improper of me to forget the terms we agreed upon.”
Another pause.
“She was thorough enough to bind that promise in blood.”
He suddenly went quiet, as if choosing the words.
“But whether he is fit to lead…” His voice thinned, almost to nothing. “That is a question I find myself asking more often.”
Xue Yang let out a low chuckle. “Then why not have another? Take a mistress.”
“Enough,” Jin Guangyao said.
Still gentle and calm.
“You know I cannot have children. And I have no intention of repeating my father’s habits.”
His gaze drifted, unfocused, as though looking at something far beyond the room.
“To see Jin sect end with my generation…” he murmured, almost to himself, “wouldn't be the worst outcome either.”
No one spoke.
The smile on his lips remained bright and immaculate.
“This bloodline has accumulated too many stains.”
He paused, as if the thought had only just occurred to him.
“Perhaps letting it fade would be… a kindness.”
A stop.
“For everyone.”
Silence settled heavily over the room.
Then, from the couch, Xue Yang let out a low whistle.
“…You really are extreme sometimes.”
His grin lingered, but his eyes had sharpened quite a bit. “Even I wouldn’t go that far.”
Su She stiffened. “S-Sir, if that is your will, I will naturally follow...”
“Of course you will,” Xue Yang cut in lazily. “When have you ever done otherwise?”
Su She fell silent after that remark.
Jin Guangyao did not look at either of them. Or, to say, he had never put them in his eyes to begin with.
...
Jin Guangshan's funeral.
The hall before Jin Guangyao was, once again, filled with white.
So much white. Clothings, flowers, faces. Everything.
It gathered around the coffin, draped the pillars, settled over every corners. And still, that whiteness could never conceal what lay beneath.
Jin Guangyao looked upon his father’s face. Pale. Composed. Almost peaceful.
Jin sect’s servants had done well. Every detail was arranged with meticulous care, and every imperfection was softened beneath powder, silk, and gold.
A true masterpiece.
Incense thickened the air, almost sickening. Layers of brocade and ornament proclaimed dignity, status, showing utmost reverence.
And yet…
There were things no effort could conceal.
Tactical whispers moved through the hall, quiet but unbroken.
Some eyes averted around constantly, then lingered a moment too long unnecessary.
Expressions somewhat tightened solemnly, then smoothed into a sneer under those intricate sleeves.
No one spoke of it. But none was deceived either.
Behind the veil, Madam Jin sat in proper mourning. Her posture was faultless, her composure was that of a noble woman, yet her attention was elsewhere.
At his side, Lan Xichen stepped forward, offering soft words of comfort.
Jin Guangyao lowered his head at precisely the right moment.
He seemed to be grieving with his haggard, sleepless face. Just as befitted a filial son.
Nearby, Jin Ling had long since fallen asleep where he knelt.
The boy had spent hours earlier quarreling with the other children in the hall. His temper, as ever, was so quick to ignite.
Of course, Jin Guangyao had ordered the matter handled at once. But perhaps, it was already too late, for the boy’s reputation.
Still, compared to the inconvenience of managing a child’s outburst… the present moment seemed to be far more worth his attention.
Slowly, with flawless grace, Jin Guangyao lowered himself into a final kowtow before the coffin.
Tomorrow, he would be without a father. But that had been the truth for most of his life.
After everything, it was hardly a tragedy.
...
Night falling, yet Jin Guangyao remained kneeling long after the others had withdrawn.
The incense had burned low. Ash gathered silently in the memorial bowl, collapsing in on itself with no one to notice.
At last, he rose. There was no hesitation in the movement. Nor there's any lingering grief.
His sleeves fell neatly into place, as though even this moment had been rehearsed.
Outside, the murmurs had already begun to shift.
Titles. Positions. Allegiances.
The future did not wait for the dead. He had to catch the chance to stabilise his newly earned position.
The current Xiandu stepped past the threshold, leaving the hall behind him.
White still followed him like a shadow, relentless in its quiet exposure. For a brief moment, he paused, adjusting his collar, smoothing a crease that had never truly existed.
Then, with that same gentle smile, Jin Guangyao continued forward. As he always had.
And somewhere along the way,
without sound, without witness,
the last trace of Meng Yao was gone.