Chapter Text
The restaurant overlooked the river.
It was one of the newly opened restaurants in Caiyi town — a loud, lively place farther down the trade roads where merchants drank to their sorrows and glee and wandering cultivators sat in groups talking over each other and townsfolk leaning forward shamelessly into their cups to hear the latest gossip.
Wei Wuxian had been pestering them for weeks now.
Unfortunately, for everyone included, the recent string of spiritual beast cases had demanded too much of their attention, and every attempt had ended in postponement. It was almost a month now that the place had opened that everyone finally got to spend time together.
The building itself was large rather than elegant. The wooden beams were sturdy, the tables mismatched in places, and the floor still bore scratches from hurried construction. The wide front wall had been built to fold open during the summer months, blurring the line between street and restaurant.
Warm evening air drifted freely over the flowing river and mingled with the wandering aromas of fried fish, scallion pancakes, and spiced shrimp from the kitchen. The sharper scent of rice wine and stronger spirits lingered beneath it, soaked into wood and tabletops already stained by enthusiastic patrons. Every time a server passed carrying fresh dishes, another mouthwatering aroma joined the chaos.
It lacked the refined elegance or the peaceful air of the establishments usually favored by the Lan disciples, but for that it compensated thoroughly through its atmosphere that possessed the easy familiarity of a town gathering rather than a business.
A merchant argued cheerfully over prices with a fisherman three tables away. Children darted between chairs despite half-hearted attempts by their parents to stop them. Cups knocked together in endless toasts. Some, despite the hour, were already drunk and singing old lullabies.
Conversations overlapped from every direction until no single voice could be distinguished, chatter was loud enough to deafen any respectable Lan.
Fortunately, Wei Wuxian had possessed enough foresight to reserve one of the private sections tucked along the second floor balcony. A wooden screen separated it from the worst of the chaos while still allowing a view of the bustling restaurant below.
It wasn't intended for isolation, but rather to provide just enough privacy to spare the sensibilities of his husband and the delicate juniors, although as his own attention kept getting stolen by the litany of exaggerated stories of beast huntings and ghost sightings going on below, the arrangement was only partially successful.
Wei Wuxian declared it superior immediately.
“The food here actually has flavor!”
Although when he had the opportunity to test it was anyone's guess.
“We know,” Jingyi said, trying not to roll his eyes in front of Hanguang-jun. “You complain about the standard meals every day.”
“Because every day the Lan meals deserve it.”
The waiter steeped a pot of local tea and brought over a tray of melon seeds and nuts, along with two menus written on bamboo scrolls that he handed to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji handed his scroll to Shizui as the waiter watched with wide eyes the other cultivator ordered enough food for a group twice their size.
The door of the private seating slid open as Jin Ling appeared with the air of a man in his late fifties, that is to say, looking like he had his first white hair.
His robes were immaculate, gold embroidery catching the lantern light, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the faint shadows beneath his eyes and the stiffness in his shoulders.
He blatantly ignored the shameless comments from his uncle who was currently smiling too wide to be entirely innocent, before bowing to Hanguang — Jun who returned a nod.
Jingyi grinned immediately.
"Sect Leader Jin finally graces us with his presence."
"I almost turned around after hearing your voice downstairs," Jin Ling said.
"Then who would have welcomed you?"
Jin Ling snorted as he moved to occupy the only remaining seat opposite Wei Wuxian.
"Hey!" Wei Wuxian immediately protested, kicking him in the leg before he had properly settled. "Where's my bow?"
Jin Ling rolled his eyes. "Why would I bow to you?"
"Because I'm your elder," Wei Wuxian said at once.
"I'll bow when you start acting like one."
"Unfilial child," Wei Wuxian gasped in mock offense and before Jin Ling could notice, promptly snatched away the cushion he had been about to sit on.
The moment Jin Ling sat down, he nearly dropped straight to the floor.
"Wei Wuxian!"
Laughing, Wei Wuxian held the cushion out of reach. "I'm still older than you, you know. Even Jiang Cheng shows me proper respect."
“Proper respect” was by all means a generous interpretation of their interaction.
By that he means the few times they had crossed paths after the Guanyin temple, Wei Wuxian considered himself fortunate if Jiang Cheng merely ignored him instead of immediately turning around and leaving, but Jin Ling didn’t have to know that.
He doubted Jiang Cheng would have been enthusiastic to discuss the circumstances of their meeting with Jin Ling himself.
Usually, that sort of claim would have earned him an immediate retort. Instead, a hard look crossed Jin Ling’s face as his face scrunched into a scowl,
“Sure I believe that,”
The words came out oddly flat.
Jin Ling's expression had twisted into something halfway between annoyance and a sulk, as though he'd just been reminded of something he hadn't wanted to think about.
"Keep it, then," he muttered, making a half-hearted grab for the cushion before pulling his hand back. "It's obviously more important to you."
For a ridiculous moment, Wei Wuxian felt like he'd just kicked one of the bunnies they kept.
Jin Ling looked as though he wanted to say something. Then whatever it was disappeared just as quickly.
"Alright, alright. Take it!" Wei Wuxian blinked as he immediately held the cushion back out, “don’t blame me later when you fall over and spill soup all over yourself.”
"I won't fall over."
"You tripped over a chicken."
"That happened once!"
The protest came instantly.
There it is, Wei Wuxian grinned as Jin Ling finally snatched the cushion from him and dropped into his seat with an offended huff.
Besides, Wei Wuxian thought, watching Jin Ling immediately start trying to kick him under the table, it was much more fun this way.
Jin Ling had always been sharp-tongued. He had emerged from the cradle prepared to argue with the world, like a certain parading peacock.
Lately, though...
Wei Wuxian leaned back slightly, watching over the rim of his cup.
The retorts came too quickly. Every jab landed a little too hard. Every expression settled into annoyance before anyone had actually said anything annoying.
Like a dog baring its teeth before a hand had even reached toward it.
The food arrived before Wei Wuxian could dwell on the thought. Bowls and platters soon crowded the table until there was barely room left between them. Steam curled upward in fragrant clouds.
For a while, conversation stayed easy.
Zizhen nearly knocked over two cups trying to explain a disastrous night hunt involving enchanted ducks. Jingyi laughed so hard he inhaled tea before immediately bowing to Hanguang – Jun. Even Sizhui smiled helplessly.
Wei Wuxian drank lazily beside Lan Wangji, half-listening while watching the juniors argue. Beside him, Lan Wangji sat close enough that their sleeves brushed whenever either of them moved. He hadn’t even needed to use the silencing spell today yet, which was a massive win for everyone involved.
For a moment, watching the lantern light flicker across familiar faces, listening to the overlapping voices and pointless arguments, Wei Wuxian thought—
Peaceful.
It was strange how rare that feeling had once seemed.
Which should have enough premonition to expect things to go unsettlingly wrong.
*
Downstairs, the musicians had long since abandoned any pretense of professionalism. What had begun as lullabies had somehow drifted into love songs, and from there into loudly improvised nonsense as more wine disappeared among them.
Lan Wangji remained entirely unaffected by the increasingly questionable display, while the juniors, meanwhile, were trying very hard not to look interested.
Wei Wuxian made no such effort.
He listened with great appreciation until one particularly ambitious singer attempted a note that seemed to physically injure half the audience, and he clapped louder than was entirely sane.
“Speaking of which,” Jingyi frowned curiously at Wei Wuxian, “—have you ever sung while drunk?”
Wei Wuxian immediately looked offended, “I sing beautifully.”
Jingyi retaliated at once, “You absolutely do not.”
“It was my beautiful voice that wooed Lan Zhan,” he said shamelessly leaning into Lan Wangji who didn’t even look away from his conversation with Shizui as he steadied him with one hand.
It absolutely was a lie, but Jingyi had the gall to look unconvinced for someone who had never actually heard him sing, so his point stands.
"I think you sound like a flute possessed by a resentful spirit," Jin Ling quipped, generously involving himself in the matter.
“I have never even heard of a flute spirit,” he shot back with equal generosity.
Jin Ling smirked, “That’s because they died after hearing you sing.”
Zizhen burst into laughter. Even Sizhui's shoulders twitched suspiciously.
"Slander!"
Wei Wuxian gasped dramatically, clutching his wine jug to his chest as though physically wounded.
“Lan Zhan, listen to how they bully me,” he whined, settling more comfortably in his husband’s hold.
“Mn,” Lan Wangji replied immediately.
While he appreciated the sentiment, his involvement remained entirely unhelpful!
Jingyi sat up straighter suddenly, putting on a terrible slurred voice.
“…fish bones laugh where sailors die—”
Sizhui nearly choked on tea, “That’s not even close!”
“It sounded exactly like that!”
Wei Wuxian blinked. “What is that?”
“The drunk man from the marsh,” Jingyi said cheerfully. “He had such a terrible voice.”
Lan Wangji, who had listened to the entire account without visible reaction, finally raised his gaze.
“An intoxicated man?”
The room fell slightly quieter at the sound of his voice, as Sizhui straightened and answered carefully.
“Following the night hunt last week, we encountered an inebriated traveler near a roadside shrine. Though heavily intoxicated, he sang several local folk songs before continuing on his way.”
Wei Wuxian leaned forward immediately. “I don’t remember that being in the reports.”
Shizui and Jingyi seemed to shrink in front of Hanguang – jun’s reaction, which was only looking at them, but enough to still the two disciples where they sat.
“Why does it matter? Nothing happened,” Jin Ling said flatly, unaware of the tension in his peers.
“He was just drunk,” Zizhen added in agreement.
Shizui, the pearl of the Lan Clan, the sweetest jade in Gusu, the brightest star in a stormy sky—his A-Yuan—mercifully provided a much more reasonable explanation.
“This disciple believed him to be merely a wandering traveller. As he possessed neither spiritual power nor resentful energy, I did not think the matter warranted special mention.” After a brief hesitation, he added, “Did Hanguang-jun find something unusual about him?”
One of Lan Wangji's brows lifted almost imperceptibly.
“Had he noticed anything unusual?”
Jingyi answered this time. “Nothing. He was far too drunk to notice much of anything, and they spoke for only a few minutes.”
“What did he look like?”
Jingyi frowned in thought. “Older. Past fifty certainly. Plain clothes, held a fishing rod. Nothing particularly remarkable.”
Wei Wuxian patted his head thoughtfully, Ah such young talent! “That narrows it down enormously.”
“He was rather scruffy,” Zizhen offered helpfully. “Weathered-looking. And he spoke strangely.”
“What kind of accent?” Wei Wuxian asked.
The juniors exchanged uncertain glances.
“…Coastal?” Jingyi ventured.
Sizhui frowned thoughtfully.
“This disciple ought to have recognized,” he said quietly.
Wei Wuxian's eyes narrowed.
Over the past several years, Sizhui had travelled more extensively than most disciples his age. He had visited regions far beyond the territories of the major clans and picked up more than a few local dialects along the way. If even he could not place the man's accent, then either it had been highly unusual—or Sizhui was reproaching himself for having failed to pay closer attention. As such it was, it must have been particularly aggravating for the boy.
"Are we really still talking about this?" Jin Ling scoffed. "He was some drunk old wanderer. Unless he turned into a fierce corpse afterward, I don't see why it matters."
Before Wei Wuxian could press further, Jin Ling leaned over snatching the wine jug from his hand, and took a long swallow.
The entire table seemed to freeze.
Wei Wuxian could only stare as Jin Ling tipped the jug back and took a long swallow. Across from him, Lan Wangji's brows drew together at once.
The second gulp went down less successfully than the first. Jin Ling doubled over with a violent cough, nearly choking on the wine. Despite this, he stubbornly took a third swallow the moment he recovered enough breath to do so.
His neck had already gone bright red.
Wei Wuxian frowned at him in disbelief, “You can't drink that much.”
“I'm a sect leader,” Jin Ling wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “I will drink if I want to.”
Jin Ling met Wei Wuxian's stare with glassy-eyed stubbornness and promptly took another swallow.
“Enough,” Lan Wangji said.
The word fell into the room like a stone into still water.
Jin Ling's gaze immediately dropped to the wine jug. It wasn’t open defiance. Not quite. Yet he made no move to meet Lan Wangji's eyes either.
His fingers tightened around the ceramic neck. For a moment, Wei Wuxian thought he might actually argue.
Instead, Jin Ling shoved the jug back across the table hard enough for wine to slosh over the rim and splash across the wood. But after a brief struggle with his own pride, he shoved the jug back across the table hard enough to splash wine onto the tabletop.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
Wei Wuxian watched him more carefully now. Jin Ling’s face was already flushed, but he still sat upright, enough not to fall at the slightest touch.
Lightweight, he thought fondly as he leaned his chin into his hand.
“So what happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Jin Ling barked at once, before letting out a small hiccup, then immediately looking angry that he had.
“Something definitely happened,” he sighed at his antics.
Wei Wuxian’s teasing tone softened slightly.
“Jin Ling,” he says slowly.
Jin Ling looked away.
“Jin Ling,” he tried again, moving slightly to sit closer to his nephew. Jin Ling clenched his jaw but made no move to push him away, and Wei Wuxian was suddenly reminded of another boy in his childhood, who would also look away and clench his jaw, while pretending he doesn’t want help and– No. This wasn’t about him.
"Something's clearly bothering you,” He tried again, lowering his voice so that only Jin Ling could hear. He was sure sober Jin Ling would appreciate the discretion.
Not that he needed to worry, as the others were trying very hard to give them space, and even their soft chatter was drowned out by the singers downstairs. “You can talk to me, you know?”
Then Jin Ling laughed—a short, bitter sound, but his voice too, had barely risen.
“You don’t get to say that. Stop pretending you’re him.”
The words landed wrong immediately. Even drunk, Jin Ling seemed to realize it. His mouth tightened.
He could deal with the sharp insults, the shouting—those were familiar enough. Jin Ling had inherited stubbornness from every branch of his family tree. But it had truly been a long time since Jin Ling had reacted with such intensity.
While Jin Ling wasn’t always available to meet with them, now as he had to manage a sect of his own, due to his proximity with the Lan juniors, they had slowly warmed up to each other's presence.
Wei Wuxian did not react outwardly, but he would be blind to not notice that something peeking under that prickly shell. Something much more vulnerable, that Jin Ling was intent on hiding. He had a feeling whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like it.
Instead of dwelling on such thoughts, he carefully pushed the jar out of Jin Ling’s reach, without making it obvious, so when Jin Ling suddenly reaches for his chopsticks, he instinctively goes to steady him.
"It's not like anything happened," Jin Ling clicks his tongue, shaking off his hands and pushing the dishes closer together.
Regardless of what people liked to believe, Wei Wuxian knew the way he was given out, but he was nothing if not stubborn enough to out-stubborn his own nephew.
“He said something to you?” he pried gently.
Jin Ling was hurting and he wasn’t going to not do anything about it. Even if its cause was Jiang Cheng. Especially if the cause was Jiang Cheng.
He knew Jiang Cheng could sound harsh and unfair sometimes, but he always had Jin Ling’s best interest at heart. It was visible in every fibre of the capable young man and Sect leader Jin Ling grew up to be. He was a fine cultivator and a sweet kid, though he would definitely have his mother to thank for that.
Much to his surprise, Jin Ling scoffed at that, as if the idea was absurd.
“Doesn’t seem to be doing a lot of that these days, now does he?”
“Saying?” he repeated dumbly.
“Talking – Speaking – Writing – Whatever.” Jin Ling lowered his eyes, but his gaze was fixed on a single peanut that had somehow spilled on the mat. “I understand. He still has a sect to run afterall. He doesn’t have time to respond to every missive personally.”
Has Jiang Cheng not replied to his correspondence? Is that why he seemed to be so upset?
Instead of burrowing further, he found himself making excuses.
“He might be preoccupied. Wasn't it flood season recently, maybe—”
Jin Ling cut him off with another scoff, sharper this time. “That's what he says.”
“He could just really be busy, A-Ling.”
Wei Wuxian wasn't sure whether it was the familiar nickname or the excuse itself, but something in Jin Ling's expression hardened immediately. A moment later, he had abandoned his chopsticks entirely and was gripping the front of Wei Wuxian's collar.
“You think you know him so well, huh?”
Around them, conversations ceased at once. Lan Wangji straightened immediately, ready to intervene, but Wei Wuxian stopped him with a small shake of his head.
Jin Ling wasn't actually going to hurt him. At least, Wei Wuxian didn't think so. And honestly, this reaction wasn't exactly unexpected once he realised who the intended person was.
“He must be preoccupied? It's flood season? You think I don't know that?” Jin Ling demanded, unaware of having the attention of every pair of eyes in the room. His fingers tightened. “Is he so busy he can't visit once? Not even let me in? Not once in over nine months—”
His voice was still hardly loud enough to be carried, but as soon as he spoke the last line Jin Ling snapped his mouth shut. For a moment, he only stared at Wei Wuxian, blinking as though he hadn't meant to say any of that aloud.
He released Wei Wuxian's collar as if it were burned. The sudden movement nearly sent him stumbling backward. He caught himself, face tight with mortification, and turned away before anyone could say a word.
He managed a hurried bow toward Lan Wangji.
Then he was gone.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Sizhui rose as well, offering them a bow before slipping out after Jin Ling. Presumably to make sure he reached his room without incident.
Wei Wuxian wasn't entirely sure.
The room had resumed breathing around him. Mats shuffled. Someone spoke in a low voice. The sounds felt distant. He finds his body still rooted to the floor, where Jin Ling had left him, staring at the closed door. He should follow them.
Why wasn’t he standing?
He went to push himself against the table but they slipped.
His hands were damp.
He must have had more to drink than he first thought.
Absently, he rubbed his palms against his robes.
Perhaps he had spilled wine on himself earlier. They were getting sticky and sweaty. A strange mix of moist and dry.
A shadow fell over him.
When he looked up, Lan Wangji had moved to stand in front of him. Worry lingered plainly in those pale amber eyes.
He shouldn’t be worried. Nothing had happened. Afterall, Jin Ling himself had said so. Wei Wuxian wanted to reassure him. To smile and wave the whole thing away. To make a joke and poke the frown—
Nothing came out.
His throat felt strangely tight.
The wine couldn't have affected him this much. He'd barely had two jars.
Three, perhaps.
He couldn't remember.
All he can think of is how Jin Ling had spilled those words in a moment of rage and ran away before anyone could understand.
Not once in over nine months. The number lodged itself somewhere behind his ribs.
Nine months since Jiang Cheng had visited.
Nine months since Jin Ling had apparently been shut out of Lotus Pier.
And now that he thought about it— wasn’t it almost nine months ago that he himself had seen Jiang Cheng?
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
Nine months.
That wasn't like Jiang Cheng.
“…Jiang Wanyin would never do so without reason.”
Wei Wuxian looked up at his husband. It was no secret that his husband wasn’t the avid supporter of Jiang Cheng on a good day. For him to say something like that, he must have noticed something else.
“No,” Wei Wuxian said softly. “He wouldn’t.”
Something must have happened.
***