Chapter Text
Even for someone from Yunmeng, Lanling in the late summer was miserably hot. Perhaps it was worse, Jiang Cheng reflected, trying not to fidget, because there was no breeze from the lakes to break the baking heat rising from Jinlin Tai’s paving stones, and no chance to dive into the water to cool off.
Not that he could do that anymore, regardless. He was the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang and had his dignity to consider. Besides, he didn’t have time. He scowled, thinking of the long list of things that needed to be done and the likelihood that in his absence no one was doing them. He could feel the sweat beading on his back. Any longer and his outer robes would be soaked through.
“A-Cheng,” his jiejie said. “Stop frowning like that.” She patted his arm. “Grandmother won’t arrive any faster for you worrying about it.”
“That’s not what I’m worrying about,” he grumbled, but he did try to clear away the tension from his expression. He thought about channeling Lan Wangji, who had no trouble being serenely blank in the face of anything except Wei Wuxian. But he wasn't good at that sort of thing himself, and he gave up quickly.
“Oh!” Jiejie said suddenly, shading her eyes. “There she is!” She had better eyesight than Jiang Cheng did, and he trusted that she was right. He could barely see in the blazing sunlight, but she was already running down the stairs.
Their grandmother had already missed the archery contest and the nighthunt, but at least she would be with them for the banquet and the rest of the conference. Jiang Cheng was well aware that Yunmeng Jiang was the least of the major sects, so the reminder that they were firmly allied with Meishan Yu might help their standing at this discussion. After the scandal Wei Wuxian caused during the nighthunt, they needed to recover their position.
Jiang Cheng followed his sister more sedately. The stiff layers of purple robes impeded his movement more than he was used to, and he would not make a laughingstock of himself by tripping in front of either the Yu or Jin disciples.
"A-Cheng," Grandmother said, when he finally reached them. She seemed just the same as always, standing as tall and proud in Lanling as she did when greeting them at Meishan.
Jiang Cheng started to bow and then realized he wasn't sure exactly how to greet his grandmother when they were both sect leaders now. He bowed anyway and then kissed her cheek decorously.
"Hm," she said. "Let me look at you both." She had shrewd dark eyes and Jiang Cheng was sure she didn't miss anything. But she didn't speak, merely nodded.
"Grandmother, let me show you to your rooms," Jiejie said. "It's so hot today."
"Yes, the sun is in my eyes," Grandmother said at once. "A-Cheng, you will come too."
"Yes, Grandmother," Jiang Cheng said. Was it really the sun that had caused the sheen of tears in her eyes? He couldn't ask.
The rooms were cool and dim, at least. Jiejie had made sure that they were properly outfitted for Yu zongzhu's visit, with comfortable furniture and familiar incense burning. Jiang Cheng was sure that he would find Meishan-style tea and snacks waiting for them.
"Sit here, please," Jiejie said. Grandmother settled herself in, huffing her gentle annoyance, while her attendants unpacked robes and jewelry.
"Well, you're decided on Lanling," Grandmother said to Jiejie. "I hardly need ask, since you're glowing as you are. I do hope Jin furen has managed to get some sense into that boy of hers. He had no business acting so heartlessly towards you." She rapped the end of her wooden staff on the floor for emphasis.
"Grandmother," Jiejie started, looking around at the servants.
"Oh, psh. Don't mind them. They know what will happen if they gossip to anyone."
Jiang Cheng almost started to make tea, but Jiejie caught his eye and shook her head briefly before reaching for the implements herself. Lanling kept the new loose-leaf tea on hand, so there was no tea cake to grind, nor whisk to make it frothy. But Jiejie had lived here for long enough that she still moved through the steps with assurance and grace.
"A-Xuan has been very kind to me, now that we have learned how to understand each other," she said as she poured a cup for Grandmother. "Later, I'll show you the lotus garden he made for me."
Grandmother purses her lips but took a sip anyway. "And you, A-Cheng? I've heard no news of Jiang zongzhu arranging a marriage for himself."
Jiang Cheng hesitated. He could hardly say that the last person he had been interested in was Wen Qing, and look where that had ended up.
"A-Cheng is focusing on rebuilding the sect right now," Jiejie said smoothly. "Besides, we have all the trouble of my own wedding."
Jiang Cheng felt his shoulders relax a little. Jiejie was so good at coming up with a polite and diplomatic way to say what he was thinking in blunt terms. He wished she was not marrying Jin Zixuan and staying in Lanling. She could probably cut his contentious sect meetings in half.
He wasn't going to think about everyone else he was missing. He took a sip of his own tea and tried not to frown.
"Very politic answer," Grandmother said. "Hard to argue with. Good. But don't wait too long, A-Cheng, or people will start to think there's something wrong with you."
"Yes, Grandmother," he said. He could hardly imagine an actual marriage, especially to someone he didn't know well. He took another sip of tea and did not say that he would rather have no wife than one who disliked or resented him. He could absolutely not say that, particularly to his grandmother. More to the point, perhaps, to Yu Ziyuan's mother.
"Hm," she said again. "And that Wei Wuxian."
Jiang Cheng glanced up quickly. She had never been as vocal in her dislike of his shixiong as his mother had, but he knew she was not fond of Wei Changze's son. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.
It was Jiejie who answered. "We are not sure exactly what is happening with A-Xian. But he has our support, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Jiang Cheng managed to say. Wei Wuxian would do himself no favors by continuing to storm out of meetings, though. He thought that they needed to have a real talk soon, but when was there time? When were they not being constantly interrupted? He cleared his throat. "He promised to help us rebuild too."
Jiang Cheng knew it was unbecoming to cling to that promise as he did. But some days it was the only thing he could hold onto; the only ground that felt solid under his feet. Wei Wuxian would be there for him, even after Jiejie got married and Jiang Cheng was the last member of his family to live in Lotus Pier.
Neither Jiejie or Grandmother responded; not what Jiang Cheng was hoping for at all. He cast about, trying to think of a way to explain what he meant, when a servant arrived for Jiejie with a message from Jin furen.
“I must go—I’m needed to help with the final arrangements.” She gave them both a hurried kiss and disappeared. Grandmother dismissed her own servants and then Jiang Cheng was left alone with that shrewd gaze. He lifted his chin. He could not afford to falter here.
“Jiang zongzhu,” she said. She sounded a little proud and a little sad. “You have been working hard to rebuild Lotus Pier.”
“Yes,” he acknowledged. It was often monotonous and dirty work, and he should be delegating more of it than he was. But who could he count on? Wei Wuxian was startlingly unpredictable these days, and Jiejie was in Lanling. Jiang Jiahao was solid, but didn’t have the experience to wield authority well. And Jiang Cheng found it difficult to ask the disciples to do work he did not participate in himself.
His grandmother nodded, as if she heard the words he had not actually spoken. Perhaps she had. She had a gift of perception that seemed to appear precisely whenever he wished it absent.
“You need more people,” she said. Not a question; not a suggestion. She had sent a small group of her own disciples to help in Lotus Pier when they first reclaimed the residence, but they had gone home again just after the New Year and the last seven months had been difficult without their help.
“Yes,” he said again. He felt a sort of sickly dread, because she was right, but he didn’t know how to accomplish that. You will never manage as sect leader, a voice said. He couldn't say whose voice it was, unless it was his own. He realized he was gripping the delicate gold-rimmed teacup too tightly and set it down on the table before him. Deliberately placed his hands on his knees.
"Does Yu zongzhu have any advice for me?" he asked.
She sighed. "Don't let the other sects push you around too much. Yanli will attend me at the meetings, so you will not be alone."
He frowned. "We have so little standing compared to the others."
"Mm. That's not quite accurate. Things are unsettled just now, and that's to your advantage. Gusu is still rebuilding and Lan Xichen is not much older than you are. Nie Mingjue is an unstable personality, so you must account for that. Still, he may be reasonable if you apply the right argument."
"And Lanling?"
She made a face as if biting into something rotten. "Jin Guangshan fancies himself successor to Wen Ruohan. He wants to hold the power of the world in his hands. Flatter him, appeal to his position."
Jiang Cheng nodded. It was good advice from someone who had managed to increase Meishan Yu's status during tumultuous years. "Thank you," he said, honestly.
She nodded. "I will rest now. Don't allow yourself to be drawn into political talk before Yanli and I arrive."
That stung, that he was not trusted so far. But he could not dwell on it. He parted from her and went to his own rooms to change his robes before the banquet began.
*
“Qing guniang,” A-Liang said, “Wei gongzi is asking for you.”
Wen Qing looked up from the pile of blankets she had been assembling. She was so exhausted: more tired than she had ever known was possible. Her bones ached and her head swam. But Wei Wuxian had been seeing to A-Ning, and she knew she would not be able to rest until she spoke with him. “Where is he?”
A-Liang led across the courtyard, stumbling slightly over the uneven stones and wincing away from a stray billow of resentful energy. Wen Qing had not known her well, back on Dafan Mountain, but she had been married, with two small children. In the time she spent in the camps, Wen Qing had learned that it was better not to ask, if you encountered someone you knew before.
A-Liang left her at the entrance to the cave, backing away nervously. Wen Qing ducked inside. She could see neither Wei Wuxian nor A-Ning. A strange smell hung in the air: old blood and fresh herbs and a heavy incense that tickled the back of her throat.
“Wei Wuxian!” she called out.
“Over here,” he answered. She found him in a small chamber set off of the main cave. A-Ning was there too, arranged carefully on a stone slab. She moved towards him and Wei Wuxian caught her wrist, his fingers a vise against her bones. “No, don’t do that.”
“But—”
“He’s fine, Wen Qing. He’s fine for now. But he’s in a delicate state and he shouldn’t be tampered with.” His tone was dispassionate, as if he were speaking of an experimental tool instead of A-Ning.
“He’s my brother,” she shot back.
Wei Wuxian didn’t let go of her wrist. “I know. As soon as it’s safe. I promise.” He glanced around at the rest of the cave. “I found some talisman paper that I can use, but we’re going to need more. And ink too, unless I manage to make something legible from ash.”
“We might be able to sell some things in Yiling,” she said. She tried to think of what they had found in the old residence, but her mind wouldn’t work the way she wanted it to just now. She swayed against Wei Wuxian without meaning to and he caught her around the waist.
“Can we worry about it tomorrow? Everyone’s tired, Wen Qing.” He guided her out of the room and through the cave, back to the spot where Fourth Uncle had built a fire and Fifth Auntie had piled the ragged remnants of bedding.
“We should be fine here for tonight,” Wei Wuxian told everyone, raising his voice enough to be heard. “And in the morning we’ll look around and decide what we need to do first.”
A murmur of assent. Wen Qing knew he was right, but part of her burned to be doing something—anything—so long as it kept her from thinking. Instead she settled down in the spot that Granny had kept for her by the fire. A-Yuan slept nearby and Granny herself was sitting up, half-dozing, watching the flames. The last thing that Wen Qing saw, before her exhaustion rose up and took her like a sudden wave, was Granny’s familiar hands, stroking A-Yuan’s hair as he slept.
*
Arrayed in his best robes, with his hair combed back tightly and fastened securely, Jiang Cheng walked up the steps to the banquet hall. Jiejie had promised that she and Grandmother would meet him there, but he still wished that they had been able to enter together.
He was announced and shown to his table; sat and poured wine. Enough to show that you have strength, but not so much that you lose respect or control. In his memory, his mother handed him the cup and pitcher and watched as he poured. He threw back the wine and set the cup down. If he stood now, he could greet some of the other sect leaders and would not have the appearance of sitting alone and dour.
But then Jiejie and Grandmother arrived, smiling at everyone and moving lightly through the crowd. His grandmother's place was nearby, with Jiejie seated beside her. He wished that they could all sit beside each other, but at least Jiejie pressed Jiang Cheng's hand for a moment, her warm strength bolstering his.
He was trying. He could still feel a headache gather like a stormcloud behind his eyes.
“Lan xiansheng and Yu zongzhu are both here?” he heard someone say. “Lan xiansheng never comes down from the mountain, and Yu zongzhu is too old to travel very far.”
“She must have wished to see her grandchildren,” someone else whispered. Unfortunate, in a way, that the acoustics of the banquet hall were so good. Every small conversation was amplified until it was almost impossible to ignore them.
“Or wanted to see that justice is done for—” The speaker, one of the Yao disciples, broke off hastily when Grandmother glanced in his direction. “Ah, you are probably right,” he finished, awkwardly.
Silence fell for a moment, before Sect Leader Yao cleared his throat and said, with an abrupt change of subject, “Wei Wuxian has really gone too far this time.”
Jiang Cheng glanced around, frowning. He hadn’t seen Wei Wuxian since just after the archery contest, and he hoped that whatever mischief had happened this time wasn’t too serious. Jiejie poured tea for Grandmother, outwardly unruffled. But Jiang Cheng could see the worry in the tense line of her shoulders.
“Indeed,” Jin Guangshan said. “A-Yao, explain what Wei Ying has done.”
Wei Ying, Jiang Cheng thought, a chill running down his spine. A deliberate insult, to be so familiar with another sect’s head disciple. He tried to control his expression, but he couldn’t help the way he frowned as he listened to Jin Guangyao explaining that Wei Wuxian had turned Wen Ning into a puppet, that they had killed cultivators in Qiongqi Way, that they had escaped with fifty Wen prisoners to the Burial Mounds, where they were hiding. Wen Ning? he thought, baffled. He remembered the gentle, quiet boy who had been so fond of Wei Wuxian when they were all in Gusu. He remembered how Wen Ning and Wen Qing had risked their own safety to help them after Lotus Pier fell.
He glanced at Jiejie and Grandmother, who were both looking surprised and worried. He tried to think of how to smooth this over. Best to flatter Jin Guangshan, Grandmother had said.
He stood, making his way to the center of the floor. “Jin zongzhu, on behalf of Yunmeng Jiang, I apologize for the loss of your disciples,” he said. “Your position is understandable and we will make restitution to their families.” They could hardly afford it, but let that be a worry for another day.
Sect Leader Ouyang sniffed. “They were not only Jin disciples there,” he said.
Jiang Cheng bowed in his direction. “Then we will consider all sects and their loss,” he said. He wanted to glance at Jiejie, but she was behind him and it would be too obvious. “However, as to the matter of Wen Ning and his sister, Wen Qing, they have never been combatants for Wen Ruohan. During the war, they helped my family several times, at great risk to their own safety.”
For a moment, he remembered a teahouse; the strength of Wen Qing’s arm against his; the warmth of her breath as she whispered her information.
“Lan Wangji was also present on one of these occasions,” he added, because Hanguang jun was just sitting there, looking baffled and lost.
Lan Wangji blinked and looked up at Jiang Cheng, as if this was somehow a betrayal. He cleared his throat. “I—yes. On the occasion when Wei Ying and I were trapped in the cave at Dafan Shan, Wen guniang came to our assistance.”
“Indeed, indeed,” Sect Leader Yao interjected, with a nervous glance at Jin Guangshan. Had they planned this between them? Jiang Cheng risked a look at Grandmother, who gave him a subtle nod. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Sect Leader Yao bloviated on.
When he had finally wound down to a halt, Grandmother stood, rapping her staff on the floor. It silenced everyone.
“Yao zongzhu,” she said in a tone full of ironic bemusement. “How like a weather vane you are. A little wind from one direction or another, and you will spin yourself around to match it.”
Sect Leader Yao opened his mouth and then closed it again, looking entirely taken aback.
“I remember,” she went on, “when you were a teenager yourself. Do you think I have forgotten the matter of the goats?”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened involuntarily. Sect Leader Yao flushed a very unfortunate shade of red.
“Yu zongzhu,” Sect Leader Yao said, at about half his usual volume, “Yu zongzhu, that matter has nothing to do with the discussion at hand.”
“Mm,” Grandmother said. “Perhaps. It seems you have forgotten the lessons learned when you were young. Well, well.” She shook her head and sat down again, apparently satisfied that she had made her point. Indeed, Sect Leader Yao wiped a nervous hand across his brow and sank back into his seat. He didn't even react when Ouyang zonghzu leaned over to whisper to him.
“But Wen Qing and Wen Ning are still part of the sect that destroyed Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue rumbled. “How can you forgive that, Jiang zongzhu?” He placed a slight emphasis on the title, as if Jiang Cheng needed to be reminded.
Before Jiang Cheng could respond, Lan Xichen spoke up. “Wen Qing and Wen Ning were present at the lectures for guest disciples. I found them to be very unlike the rest of the Wen sect. I have never heard that they were involved in the violence and killing.”
Lan Qiren nodded as his nephew spoke, but many of the other cultivators seemed unconvinced, whispering to each other and shaking their heads.
“Jin zongzhu,” Jiejie said, “may I speak?”
“Of course, Jiang guniang, of course,” Jin Guangshan replied, though he did not seem entirely pleased.
“Thank you,” Jiejie said. “You all know that I count A-Xian as my didi, so you may think that I am only speaking up to defend him. But the fact is, I came to know Wen guniang quite well during the time we spent in Gusu. They took in my family when we fled from Lotus Pier, and I know that whatever harm they may have caused, they deeply regretted it.”
“Even if they didn’t commit these murders, they also didn’t stop them,” Nie Mingjue protested. “They are still culpable!”
“Perhaps so,” Jiejie acknowledged. “But can you really say, Nie zongzhu, that they were not following their sect leader and the head of their family?”
Nie Mingjue frowned. “They still bear responsibility. They are connected to these deaths and the destruction of your own home, Jiang guniang.”
Jiang Cheng tried to think. What are your goals in this situation, A-Cheng? his mother asked. Well, he wanted to get Wei Wuxian out of trouble. He wanted to save Wen Qing and Wen Ning, if he could. He wanted Yunmeng Jiang to not lose standing. Only, he wasn’t sure that he could manage to achieve all of that.
“It’s for Jiang zongzhu’s own sake that I didn’t want to say this,” Jin Guangshan was saying, when Jiang Cheng started listening again. “But many people say that Wei Ying was the only reason Yunmeng Jiang came out of the war with the distinction it did. Whether or not he respects you as his sect leader is questionable.”
That stung. Jiang Cheng bit his lip, unable to come up with a good response.
“A-Xian has always been a powerful cultivator,” Jiejie agreed. “But it is all the more to Jiang zongzhu’s credit that A-Xian chooses to follow him.”
“If he chooses to follow him,” Jin Guangshan said, leaning forward. “But how long will this situation last? Wei Wuxian refuses to listen to Jiang zongzhu. He leaves banquets and gatherings without leave. He even said that he doesn’t respect Jiang zongzhu after the Phoenix Mountain hunt! Everyone heard him say it!”
But he promised, Jiang Cheng thought. He promised that we would be together. He promised to help me. He swallowed hard. He didn’t want to believe Jin Guangshan, but—but he often wondered, in the depths of night, how long Wei Wuxian would stay at Lotus Pier. He felt as if his insides had been stripped out of him and laid on the table for everyone to see and poke through.
“I did not hear Wei Ying say that,” Lan Wangji said suddenly, breaking into Jiang Cheng’s thoughts. “He never said that he did not respect Jiang zongzhu.”
“Well, of course Hanguang jun would say so,” Sect Leader Yao objected. “I heard that on Qiongqi Way, he stepped aside and let this Wei Ying and the Wen remnants go.”
For a moment, Jiang Cheng actually saw Lan Wangji’s mouth tremble. Then he lifted his chin slightly and said, “Wei Ying was acting out of justice and to save the weak and innocent. You said there were fifty cultivators who escaped. I saw no more than twenty people in total, and most of them were elderly or obviously not cultivators. They cannot truly be considered a threat to any sect.”
The room exploded in an uproar, but for once Jiang Cheng was grateful for the whispers and arguments. It gave him another moment to trace the idea that had just occurred to him, trying to follow the implications to see if it worked. He wished that Wei Wuxian were here to test it with, but—
He put aside his hurt and anger and worry. He could not let them overcome him now. He wanted to shake Wei Wuxian and then hug him and then yell at him, but it would have to be later.
"This Wei Ying still killed our overseers!" Sect Leader Ouyang burst out. "He killed cultivators indiscriminately, when they were doing nothing wrong. The remaining guards report that the prisoners were well cared for."
Across the room, Luo Qingyang snorted.
"Go on, guniang," Grandmother said, when everyone turned to look at her.
"Well—well, of course the guards would say so!" Luo Qingyang pointed out. "They would naturally want to lie and cover up their misdeeds."
"But they said that the prisoners who died fell by accident!" someone else argued.
Grandmother was the one who snorted this time. She rose carefully to her feet. "If any of you believe that story, you're even greater fools than I took you for. But regardless, the truth should be determined. In the meantime, however, these Wen remnants must not be allowed to either come to harm or escape."
A general murmur of agreement rose. Jiang Cheng felt almost lightheaded with relief and gratitude. She had set up what he wanted to say perfectly. She must have guessed. He did not look back to her, but stood as tall and straight as he could. He wished fiercely for Wei Wuxian's golden tongue but—but Wei Wuxian wasn't there. Jiang Cheng was.
"I agree with Yu zongzhu. We must find out the facts of what happened in Qiongqi Way, as far as we can. We have heard from the guards, and now the prisoners should be interviewed.”
There was a small sound of agreement. Jiang Cheng took another breath. They were with him so far. “Since we are agreed that the Wen remnants are part of the clan that destroyed Lotus Pier, very well. Yunmeng Jiang will seek restitution from them. Let them come to Yunmeng help with the rebuilding efforts until this matter is settled or they are released."
Lan Wangji glanced up at Jiang Cheng and blinked. Lan Qiren nodded and murmured something to Lan Xichen. But Nie Mingjue still sat scowling and Jin Guangshan moved restlessly on his throne.
"And what of Wei Ying?" Jin Guangshan asked. "He has defied you and left Yunmeng. Will he really be content to return as he was?"
"Jin zongzhu will excuse me saying that this is an internal sect matter," Jiejie pointed out. "If A-Xian is able to return to Lotus Pier without harassment and rejoin the sect, that must suffice for others."
There was another scattered sound of agreement at this. Jin Guangshan might be Chief Cultivator, but he could not outwardly manage the internal affairs of other sects. Even Sect Leader Ouyang looked thoughtful.
"Surely leaving the Burial Mounds can only be beneficial for Wei gongzi?" Lan Xichen murmured. He looked over at Nie Mingjue. "If he is removed from the influence of resentful energy and placed under the oversight of Jiang zongzhu, there may be hope for him. Da-ge, I know you have concerns about the justice of this case, but surely there can be no harm in removing Wei gongzi and the Wens to safety until it can be investigated?"
Nie Mingjue still looked like he had bitten into a sour plum. But he drummed his fingers on his knees and looked at Lan Xichen and finally gave the slightest possible nod.
Jiang Cheng stood in the middle of the hall, his heart beating wildly. Was it possible—could it actually be possible that he had succeeded?
"Very well," Jin Guangshan said, radiating a bemused acceptance. "We accept Yunmeng Jiang's proposal and offer of restitution. Jiang zongzhu, we will speak about terms later."
Jiang Cheng nodded and managed to make his way back to his seat without toppling, though his legs suddenly felt unequal to holding him. The hall buzzed with conversation between the various sects, with Sect Leader Yao loudly proclaiming the wisdom and benevolence of Jin Guangshan.
"You did very well," Jiejie whispered to Jiang Cheng under the guise of filling his teacup. His composure was too fragile to meet her eye, and she merely pressed his shoulder for a moment before returning to their grandmother.
The banquet wore on, long hours of toasts and delicate food: abalone with bean sprouts, cold chicken in garlic sauce, plates of cakes and fruit. Jiang Cheng ate a little and engaged in conversation with several sect leaders, arranging trade agreements and restoring old alliances. He felt giddy the whole time; after all of that, nothing else could worry him too much, at least for tonight.
Jiejie, Grandmother, and Luo Qingyang left together when the gathering began to become rowdy. Jiang Cheng did not stay much longer himself His headache returned in full force and he made his excuses earlier than he otherwise might, bowing politely to the company and slipping out into the lengthening blue shadows.
He was nearly down the long flight of stairs when he heard someone behind him and turned. Lan Wangji was following him, managing to look unhurried and unflustered.
"Jiang Wanyin," he said.
"Hanguang jun," Jiang Cheng responded. They had not really spoken since they finally found Wei Wuxian and everything changed.
Lan Wangji paused for a moment. "Please tell me if I can support you," he said at last.
Jiang Cheng nodded. "I will."
"My brother will speak to Chifeng zun," Lan Wangji went on. "I have known Nie zonghzu for a long time and I believe he will listen. He is angry about the harm caused to his sect, but he does care about righting injustice."
It seemed that Lan Wangji was looking for something from Jiang Cheng, but he was too tired and his head ached too much to decipher what.
"Right. Well, I won't forget your offer. Good night, Hanguang jun," he said, and left Lan Wangji standing alone, a bright beacon in the dusk.
*
He breakfasted with Jiejie, Grandmother, Jin Zixuan, and Lan Wangji. It seemed a strange assortment of people at first, until Luo Qingyang joined them and he realized that everyone but Jin Zixuan had spoken to defend Wei Wuxian or the Wens. And Zixuan was no match for Jiejie and Luo Qingyang in combination.
They gathered in a quiet pavilion looking over an ornamental garden. Still too many paving stones, Jiang Cheng thought severely, but it was a more pleasant area than he was used to in Lanling. No one spoke much while they ate. Jiang Cheng tried to arrange his thoughts. He knew he was too used to relying on Jiejie or Wei Wuxian to speak for him.
"There won't be much time," Grandmother observed finally, accepting a cup of tea from Luo Qingyang and sitting back in her seat. "The cultivation world may have been swayed to your side for the moment, but it won't last long."
Jiang Cheng nodded. "I'll go straight home and then go to Yiling tomorrow." It would be a hard day's flight, but after Baoshan Sanren's mountain, his golden core never seemed to falter. And Grandmother was right. They would need to move quickly.
"Lan Wangji, Jin Zixuan, and I are going with you," Luo Qingyang said. Lan Wangji didn't speak, but he looked up and met Jiang Cheng's gaze, so at least he didn't object. "If we all go to the Burial Mounds, we can be witnesses to the conditions there, as well as the agreement you reach."
It was a smart idea, when Jiang Cheng stopped to think about it. "I'll want to leave within the hour," he warned.
"Then we won't linger," Luo Qingyang said promptly. "We will meet at your quarters, Jiang zongzhu."
Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan followed her out. Jiejie lingered for a moment. "Give A-Xian my love," she said. "And tell him he's not allowed to be a donkey." She smiled briefly. "Please give Wen guniang my regards as well. And send me a message to tell me what's happened! I'll try to get away as soon as I can."
Jiang Cheng bent to receive her kiss, and then she was gone. A warm breeze swept in, lifting the branches in the garden and sweeping across Jiang Cheng's sweaty neck.
"You've done well," his grandmother said.
He turned at last to meet her bright gaze. He had been afraid to do that ever since he opened his mouth during the banquet the day before. She might so easily be angry with him. "Have I? I can't help thinking that I've betrayed everyone who was lost."
She didn't respond at once. "When I first became sect leader," she said, "I had just turned twenty. My mother was a fierce woman—Ziyuan was more in her style than in my own—and I was worried that everyone would be judging my actions against hers and finding them wanting.”
He tried to keep a sympathetic wince off of his face, but he didn't think he entirely succeeded. She patted his arm and went on.
"There was a set of banners in the main courtyard that my mother had commissioned and that I had always hated. One morning, I went out to oversee the disciples’ practice. They were halfway through the exercises when I couldn't stand it any longer. I took Zidian and I ripped every one of those banners down. Then I waited for someone to scold me."
Jiang Cheng had known that Zidian was part of his mother's dowry from Meishan Yu, but he hadn't realized that his grandmother had personally carried it. He thought, all at once, of the hope that Mother’s birth sect must have sent with her to Lotus Pier: the hope that their beloved, prickly daughter would find happiness. Had she? Certainly not in the measure that they had likely wished for, packed away along with the jewelry and cloth and spiritual tools.
"But in the end, no one scolded me at all. One of the elders who had been passing through bowed to me and said, 'Now you are truly Yu zongzhu.' I had made my own decision and stood by it, regardless of the consequences. Do you understand, A-Cheng?"
Lost in the thoughts of his mother's past, it took him a moment to absorb her words. But then he did understand. Even if it wasn't what she wanted or would have chosen, she saw that he had made his decision. Perhaps even saw that he was trying to do the best thing for his sect.
"Thank you for your wisdom," he said and bowed.
"Impudence!" she retorted instantly, smacking his shoulder with her cane. "I'm only sixty, not a doddering ancient! Go pack and see to your disciples. Wisdom, indeed."
But she had given him more than he could possibly express. Without her, he wasn't sure how that banquet would have gone. Without her and Jiejie, he wasn't sure he could have found the courage to speak up, to keep arguing his point. He wasn't sure he would have had the time to think of the proposed solution.
He went to meet the others and gather his disciples, but his heart was somewhere in the dappled woods of Meishan.
*
In the light of day, the calculations were painfully clear to Wen Qing. They could plant fast crops and hope their harvest was plentiful. They could sell the harvest and hope they made enough to buy more food and seeds. They could preserve what was left and hope it was enough to last the winter.
The radish seeds they found were so small to carry all the hopes of twenty people. Perhaps it was possible that they would sprout and bring something green back into this wasteland. Perhaps they could thrive here.
But even if they managed it, the cultivation world would come for them. It might be in a day or in a year. Sooner or later, they would see the gold or white or grey robes and know their time was up.
At this moment, though, Wen Qing had a job to do. She carried the pitiful heap of fabric out into the courtyard. Everyone's clothes were in disrepair and they would need warm robes soon. It was high summer in the outside world, but here it felt as cold and bleak as deep winter. The fabric was dull hemp, nothing like the embroidery-stiff silks she had been used to as Wen Ruohan's personal physician.
Never mind. They would keep old bones and young bodies warm and that was what mattered.
She began to sort out what could be used and what was only fit for rags. The rain had blown off during the night, away to the north. In the Burial Mounds, the sunlight fell in dapples across the ancient stone.
"Qing guniang," Granny said, kneeling beside her. "What's all this?"
"We need robes," she said.
Granny nodded and looked out at the tangle of trees around them. "We need everything."
It was true of course, but Wen Qing could only consider one problem at a time. She nodded wearily all the same.
"Qing guniang! Qing guniang!" Fourth Uncle shouted. There was a note of real alarm in his voice. Wen Qing sprang to her feet. "There are—people at the boundary."
"Cultivators?" she asked sharply.
He nodded. "Only four, though. I've seen two of them before, when the statue woke."
Her heart clenched. That could only be Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji. "Very well," she said, aiming for calmness. "Where's Wei Wuxian?"
"He went down to Yiling an hour ago to try selling some of the valuables."
She nodded. "I'll go speak to them, then," she said.
She had time to think of almost every possibility on the path. The dead forest loomed over her, but she kept her back straight and walked on.
To her bemusement, the small group waiting for her consisted of Luo Qingyang, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, and Jin Zixuan. None of them looked happy or at ease, but she was sure the same was true of her as well.
"Where's Wei Wuxian?" Jiang Cheng asked, before she even reached the barrier.
She raised her eyebrows. "Unavailable," she answered. Let them make what they wanted of that. "Can I help you instead?"
There was an awkward silence. "Wen guniang, we have come to assess the situation and report back to the sects honestly and fairly," Lan Wangji said. He met her gaze, though his mouth trembled slightly. "May we enter?"
Luo Qingyang nodded, but Wen Qing still hesitated. They were two people who she trusted to tell the truth, at least as they saw it. She was achingly aware of the limits of that trust.
"Very well," she said slowly. "I won't even insist you leave your weapons behind or lock your cores. But the people you see will be tired and frightened and they are not cultivators. Please be respectful of that."
"They're not cultivators?" Jin Zixuan asked, frowning.
Wen Qing felt a grim satisfaction take hold. Let them be confused and uncomfortable. She could only imagine what people were saying about them. "Wei Wuxian and I are the only living cultivators in the settlement."
"Your brother—" Jiang Cheng clearly did not know how to ask.
"I don't know. Wei Wuxian won't let me see him." She refused to cry in front of them. "But the talismans keep him safe for now."
She let the barriers down and reset them once the others had passed through. They followed her up the path to the cave in silence. The back of her neck prickled with tense awareness, but she kept her head high and walked on.
"Well, here we are," she said when they reached the courtyard. Fourth Uncle dropped his armful of kindling and stood by. Granny glanced up from the pile of mending in her lap.
There was a long silence. "Where—is everyone else?" Jin Zixuan asked at last.
"A-Liang is putting A-Yuan down for his nap. Sixth Uncle is looking for fruit. The others are trying to find supplies." She bit back a sigh. "Wei Wuxian is in Yiling, selling what he could find and buying seeds."
"What is your plan, Wen guniang?" Lan Wangji asked.
"To survive as long as we are allowed to," she said, surprising herself slightly with her own honesty.
"Here?" Jin Zixuan asked, apparently genuinely horrified at the thought.
Wen Qing shrugged and didn't bother pointing out the obvious answer: on their own like this, they wouldn't be safe anywhere else.
She led them into the dim, echoing room built into the cave and gestured to a table. One of the aunties brought over the small bowl of dried fruit that was all they had to offer their guests. Lan Wangji looked at it with a thoughtful frown and picked a piece of apple out.
"So, what sort of inquiry takes four people to conduct?" Wen Qing asked, when they were seated.
To her surprise, the others looked to Jiang Cheng, who met her gaze for the first time. He looked sharper than she remembered, as if grief and his change in station had honed his edges.
"The others are here as witnesses. I'm here with a proposal." He took a deep breath and carefully clasped his hands on the table between them. "Everyone here may come to live in Yunmeng, to help rebuild Lotus Pier and the Yunmeng Jiang sect. This would be recompense for the destruction of Lotus Pier and the deaths that occurred because of the actions of Qishan Wen."
For a moment, she stared in sheer disbelief. Then she felt the shock of it hit her in a wave. She couldn't find words to answer him.
"If you agree," Jiang Cheng went on, "Yunmeng Jiang would guarantee your safety as long as you stay within the accepted boundaries and continue to aid the sect."
"Trade one labor camp for another?" she said sharply.
He blinked and then scowled. "No. The work would be according to the age and ability of each person, not—not that."
She clenched her hands under the table because she could not let her anger ruin what might be their only chance. "And this provision would last the rest of our lives?"
"Until the Jiang sect leader agrees the price is paid or until the sects agree that the Dafan Wen are not to be held responsible for Wen Ruohan's crimes," he said.
She snorted before she could help it. "And Wei Wuxian?"
Jiang Cheng sighed. "His case is complicated, but he has not formally left the sect and so discipline becomes a sect matter." His mouth twisted into a brief, wry smile. "At least, Jiejie and Yu zongzhu managed to argue that for the moment. He's really in Yiling? I was hoping to speak to him."
Yu zongzhu? Wen Qing thought. That must be Yu Ziyuan's mother. Had she supported this idea? "Yes, he's selling what we found in the old cave for food and seeds," she admitted, too tired to dissemble. They all looked horrified. They might have gone through a war and loss and grief, but they were still inner disciples of powerful sects. Her position had never been so secure as that.
She pushed away her memories of Qishan and took a deep breath. "You understand that I can't make this decision on my own?"
"Of course," Jiang Cheng said. "But, Wen—Wen guniang. Forgive me for saying so, but I don't think you really have a choice."
She dipped her head in acknowledgement, though her hands were still fisted around the skirt of her robes. There was one other thing she needed to know. “And A-Ning?”
He had killed people in Qiongqi Way. He was not Wei Wuxian, to be folded neatly back into his sect as if he had never walked away. He was her brother, and she would not agree to anything that harmed him.
Luo Qingyang nodded. “There may be some disagreements,” she acknowledged. “But I believe we can make the case that removing Wen gongzi from the atmosphere of the Burial Mounds will aid his...recovery from his—spiritual wounds.”
They had not seen him, lying corpse-still in the cave, the smell of iron and death in the air. She set aside the image. Luo Qingyang was right; this offer was the best that they could hope for at the moment.
“I will explain the situation to the others,” she said, “and relay our decision.”
Jiang Cheng nodded, once. His gaze had gone distant, seeing something that wasn’t in this room with them. “We will stay in Yiling until we hear word from you. Don’t be long.”
“We should still speak to those who survived,” Jin Zixuan said. “I said I would investigate. I promised Jiang Yanli.”
Ah, Wen Qing thought, amused. Jiang Yanli did possess a spine of steel in addition to that kind heart, and she couldn’t be surprised that Jin Zixuan seemed to have finally fallen into line. Jiang Cheng sighed a little, whether because of this reminder of his jiejie or the time it would take, she wasn’t sure.
Out in the courtyard, they found almost everyone in the settlement gathered in a clump, clearly discussing the visitors. Everyone scattered and looked vaguely guilty about gossiping. Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang went to speak to them. Jiang Cheng hesitated for a moment before following, leaving Lan Wangji standing with Wen Qing in the shadows at the top of the stairs.
“Wen guniang,” Lan Wangji said. “I understand your hesitance, but I do believe that Jiang zongzhu is sincere in his offer, and in his intent to shield your family. In addition, my brother wished me to convey that the plan has his full support.”
“That is kind of him,” she answered, vaguely surprised. She hadn’t thought that Lan zongzhu would be so willing to go against Jin Guangshan.
Lan Wangji did not respond. She watched the others speaking, shaking their heads from time to time and gesturing to the ground and the sky. Explaining the conditions of the camps, she supposed.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said at last, hesitant and tender. “He is—he is well?”
She carried around so many of Wei Wuxian’s secrets now, an invisible burden that weighed her down. “He’s as well as he can be, considering,” she said, hoping this sounded like a reference to his first sojourn in the Burial Mounds and his current situation and nothing else at all. “He misses his family.”
He gave her one quick glance and then lowered his eyes again. “I am glad he is not alone here,” he said and went to join the others.
*
When they were finally gone, she followed the shadowy path back to the courtyard, trying to think. To be confined to Yunmeng and dependent on Jiang zongzhu’s good graces stung her pride. But Jiang Cheng was right: they did not have many other choices. Throw themselves on the mercy of the sects and hope for the best. Stay here until they starved or were besieged. Already she could see the strain of survival in their pinched faces.
She had not spoken of a wooden comb to the man who gave it to her. That was a long time ago, and they were different people then. She could not bear to bring her heart into the decision at hand, to trade away what she kept so close and hidden, even for the sake of her family’s safety. But she had not given it back to him either.
“Qing guniang, they said that we might be able to leave?” Fourth Uncle asked, meeting her at the end of the path. A-Yuan was slung around his shoulders, sleepy but grinning.
She sighed. “Is Wei Wuxian back?”
Fourth Uncle nodded. “He went to check on Ning gongzi.”
“Gather everyone in the courtyard,” she said. “And then I’ll explain.”
Wei Wuxian looked tired and vexed when he joined them, loping his way out of the cave with that long-legged ease. She glanced around to be sure they were all there, and then began to explain.
As she talked, she watched their faces. Mostly wary and confused, though Granny smiled when she mentioned that Lan Wangji’s brother would support them. She had taken an odd liking to Hanguang jun, after the last time they met.
Wei Wuxian, when she turned to him, looked like a dawning sunrise. He wants to go home, she thought, and her heart gave an unwelcome pang.
“Wen Qing,” he breathed, when she was done. “Are you serious about what they said? We could go to Lotus Pier?”
“They seemed to be honest about it,” she said. “For now.”
Then he swallowed and seemed to come back to ground. “Ah. Well, of course things will be different. Would be different.” He frowned and didn’t say any more, but when A-Yuan came over and tugged at his robes, Wei Wuxian bent and picked him up and showed him the lotus tassel that he still carried.
“If we agreed,” one of the aunties said, “even if it wasn’t forever, we would have a better chance than here. Sorry, Wei gongzi.”
“Hm? Oh, no, you’re right,” he agreed. “Even I wouldn’t recommend this place as a long term solution.”
“That’s true,” Fourth Uncle said slowly. “If we had time—that’s really what we need, Qing guniang. Time for things to calm down and people to forget about us. Time to come up with a solid plan.”
“Granny?” Wen Qing asked, because she knew who was really in charge of the Dafan Wen.
“A-Yuan would be happier somewhere else,” Granny said, watching him pull at Wei Wuxian’s collars. And that, it seemed, was her full opinion on the matter.
It rained that night: great sheets of water sloughing from the mountain across the mouth of the cave. A-Liang played a small dizi and everyone drank small dishes of wine that Wei Wuxian apparently bought in Yiling. He was so pleased with himself that Wen Qing couldn’t even scold him for wasting money. The room rang with music and laughter.
Wen Qing kept herself busy. There were dishes to collect and dried fruit to distribute. If she wiped down the tables and stacked the cups, she didn’t have to think.
It wasn’t that she disagreed with the conclusions. They were all right about the time it might buy them. And if access to a proper sect’s resources helped A-Ning recover, she would even be glad for it. But gratitude is a bitter medicine, and she found she had trouble swallowing it. Something was lost to her before she had even fully held it, slipping through her fingers like water.
“You’re very pensive,” Wei Wuxian said, breaking into the thoughts she had not, after all, managed to escape from. “Wen Qing.” He pouted at her, bright cheeked and bright eyed. “Aren’t you happy to be leaving?”
“Aren’t you happy to be going home?” she asked tartly, and then regretted it when his face fell.
“Yeah,” he said, swigging his wine. “But—I can’t expect everything to be the way it was. You know.” He shrugged. “And Shijie being off in Lanling—Jiang Cheng and I do better when she’s around to keep us from fighting.” He gave her a narrow look. “From the general lack of screams and me being shaken or cried on, I’m guessing you didn’t tell him?”
“What good would that have done?” she snapped. “It’s not mine to tell.”
They were both silent for a while, listening to the drumming of rain on stone. She would like to be stone, she thought. Stones were patient and still and they had no cares. The rain came and washed them and the sun warmed them and they slowly wore away.
“It’s the best option,” she said at last, grudgingly. “And I know it. So anything else doesn’t count.”
He stretched out his legs and heaved a deep sigh, but in the end he didn’t argue with her. He handed her a dish of wine and she sat near him, leaning against the rocky outcropping at the mouth of the cave. They didn’t need to say anything; they both knew what she was and wasn’t saying. So neither of them bothered to try. The rain fell outside and inside the last of the Wens celebrated the possibility that they might, after all, survive.