Chapter Text
“Sect Leader Jiang! What’s a guy gotta do to get a tour of the famous Lotus Pier?”
Jiang Wanyin, up to his knees in a clogged irrigation ditch, turns his head to peer over his disciples. The air crackles. He has to work very, very hard not to scowl when he sees the rogue cultivator coming down the path.
“Wei Wuxian…” he growls.
The man in question smiles and waves in return.
“A-Cheng! Long time no see!”
He wrinkles his nose, and begins the slow climb out of the water and muck while leaving the disciples to their work. His feet are bare, so it’s slow going to climb above the weeds without slipping. When he makes it up to the road and the man waiting for him, he curls his hand into a fist and knocks it against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.
“And whose fault is that?! Coming and going as you please, wandering like some sort of vagabond. Damn fool!”
Wei Wuxian laughs, and pulls him in for a hug before Jiang Wanyin can escape.
The disciples watch with wide eyes. Half of them make silly calf eyes, the other half keep their hands on their sword hilts.
One was never certain when it came to the Yiling Patriarch.
Jiang Wanyin squirms for freedom and starts reciting a colorful string of curse words while Wei Wuxian refuses to let go. It seems Lotus Pier’s newest guest is in one of his good moods today; he waves at everyone as if they were his neighbor, and he can’t seem to fight the urge to poke Jiang Wanyin in the ribs, even with the man in question trying to break free of his arms.
“You look so skinny A-Cheng! Are they forgetting to feed you?”
“Tch! As if! I’ll have you know I’m fucking busy, and don’t have time to sit around and eat. As if you’d care. You’re probably eating that vile Lan broth and going full vegetarian at the capital. Here we still have a little self respect and we eat pork and lotus root soup and—”
“Lotus root soup?! Why didn’t you say so sooner!” His eyes light up.
Jiang Wanyin pops out of Wei Wuxian’s grip.
“Not so fast. I’m not going back to Lotus Pier just because you’re hungry. We still have to dredge these canals before the summer rains begin. And I have actual work to do.”
“What, like letters from all your little sect friends?”
He grits his teeth. “Exactly like that.”
Wei Wuxian frowns, but then a light in his eyes changes, and he starts digging around in one of his qiankun pouches.
“Oh! Yeah! Speaking of letters, I have a special delivery from the Cloud Recesses!”
The slowly-warmed mood created by their reunion vanishes to smoke.
“Cloud Recesses? The imperial family?”
“Mhm!” Wei Wuxian hums in his quest.
Anything from the capital required cautious handling. Good news, bad news, news in general… it was a rather ominous sign to have a message come by way of a demonic cultivator.
Jiang Wanyin eyes Wei Wuxian.
“You’ve always been on Grandmaster Lan Qiren’s bad side. What on earth did you do to get yourself delivering letters for the Gusu Lan?”
The man fails to find whatever it is he’s looking for, so he sighs, and shrugs once the pouch is put away. “It’d take too long to tell you the whole story. I… No.” He shakes his head. “Let’s just say they had a job for me, and I needed an excuse to visit. It was convenient for everyone. I have the letter here somewhere… I’m sure I’ll find it soon…”
“Heavens forbid Cloud Recesses wastes one of their actual messengers coming all the way out to Yunmeng.”
Wei Wuxian grins. “You know how stingy they are.”
The Gusu Lan were moderated in all things, from taxation to the spices they used in their food. Restraint filled their everyday lives, and righteousness dictated their rulership.
It wasn’t that they were cheap or corner-cutting; in fact it was quite the opposite. For a family that held the entire cultivation world at their heel, the Lan exercised an amazing amount of self restraint.
Jiang Wanyin crouches down to put his boots back on. Whatever it is hiding in Wei Wuxian’s pocket, he doesn’t feel encouraged about it.
“C’mon, A-Cheng! You coming or not?”
“Learn to have some fucking patience.” He barks. “You’ve been traveling all day! What’s a few more minutes of standing?”
Wei Wuxian puts on his best whining voice. “But I’m tired! It’s exactly because I’ve been walking on these poor old feet that I need a break! A nice warm bath… some hot soup…”
“Who said anything about you getting any soup? Keep up that attitude and I’ll give you a tour of the kennels!”
“A-Cheng!!” he wails.
-
Arranging accommodations for Wei Wuxian is a relatively simple matter, considering he had once been a disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang.
Jiang Wanyin sends one attendant in one direction, to make sure private quarters are prepared with fresh clothes and a warm bath, while sending another to warn the kitchens that they’ll need to bring out a few extra jars of chili oil and wine.
Afterwards, he looks down at his own state and grimaces.
Several hours of training disciples on how to dig around in the muck had left his pants in poor condition, and his robes looking less than presentable.
He quickly shakes off the simple jianxiu robes. His toes curl against the chill of the wood floor, and he makes a rush to sit in a chair, only to be greeted with a lopsided top bun and braids struggling for dear life in the bronze mirror.
He frowns at his plain reflection.
Fawn skin, so prone to tanning and freckling in the later months of summer, was flush with color. It was not good if a simple day of work could put so many freckles on his face. His mother had always complained such a thing made young lords and ladies look common. It wasn’t fashionable. It wasn’t appealing. It wasn’t—
He shakes his head to mentally and physically dislodge the thoughts.
He had better things to do than worry what his dead mother thought of his appearance.
He wonders instead, on what sort of business the Gusu Lan needed to send Wei Wuxian, of all people, to him.
It could be as innocent as them needing a small favor, and taking advantage of the fact that they grew up together. But then again, it could be malicious enough that only Wei Wuxian could be trusted to bear the burden. Jiang Wanyin wasn’t known for being the most receptive of sect leaders, but Wei Wuxian was a force of nature.
As he unfolds a fresh set of robes, he frowns.
Wei Wuxian had always been… difficult to read.
He never really knew if the man was being silly or deadly serious until it was far too late. Wei Wuxian had wicked charm, and enough charisma to rival that of the entire imperial family when he chose to use it. He barely ever exercised restraint or modesty, and it had certainly cost him these last ten years.
At least he was certain of one thing: Wei Wuxian would never hurt him, nor Yanli, even if the order came from the Emperor himself.
It was the only reason, frankly, that Jiang Wanyin let his former brother anywhere near Lotus Pier. He was fiercely protective of everything he had built these last ten years, and he was painfully aware of just how destructive Wei Wuxian could be.
The frown only deepens as he brushes out his hair, and reworks the braids at his temple.
Wei Wuxian had taken a handful of terrible risks on the eve of the Sunshot Campaign, when the Wen clan failed to dethrone the Lan and massacre the gentry at large. Frustrated with the slow and deadly pace the war was taking, Wei Wuxian had forsaken his role as Jiang Wanyin’s right hand man, and unfortunately, worked himself into a corner where the only solution seemed to be making deals with the resentful dead.
And what terrible deals he made, once the dead learned he had given up his golden core. To stay alive, it had cost no small part of his humanity.
Jiang Wanyin shivers.
His core.
The parting gift he’d never wanted, but had been forced to take, that had marked the beginning of the end between them.
Now, with the war over nearly ten years, their brotherhood wasn’t exactly thriving, but it also had never been killed and given a proper burial.
Whatever it was, Jiang Wanyin never liked it, so he never acknowledged it.
And Wei Wuxian never enjoyed talking about it, so he never brought it up.
It was better that way. For both of them.
When Jiang Wanyin is done fussing with his hair and clothing, he slips on a clean set of boots and makes his way down to the guest quarters to harass his former brother. He knocks, and while it’s not the insistent banging used in their childhood, it certainly isn’t one he’d reserve for most guests, especially those bearing secret messages from the Cloud Recesses.
It only takes moments for Wei Wuxian to pop his head out.
“Give me a second, A-Cheng! Gods! Always in a rush.” He kicks his door shut while trying (and failing) to pat the wrinkles out of his quju robes.
Jiang Wanyin rolls his eyes. “Fix your hair. You look like a lunatic.”
Wei Wuxian laughs, and obliges him by combing his fingers through his hair a few times, and settling on an only-slightly-less messy ponytail.
Shortly before they arrive at the great hall, Wei Wuxian turns to him.
“Hey. A-Cheng…”
“What?” He pauses in looking at his vabrances to eye his guest.
Wei Wuxian must have second thoughts about what he wants to say, because he blinks a few times, scowls, and then shakes his head.
“Never mind, never mind… nothing important… it can wait.”
Jiang Wanyin only sees fit to mutter, “Weirdo…” before they enter the grand Sword Hall.
-
Dinner, an already rowdy affair for near-two-hundred disciples, was only made more chaotic by the presence of the Yiling Patriarch.
Jiang Wanyin rolls his eyes as the elder disciples pat the empty bench seats beside them, while the younger disciples stare with wide open eyes and mouths.
For a former disciple with a scandalous reputation, he certainly is well-liked.
Jiang Wanyin can’t really find it in himself to scold the disciples; they deserved to have an entertaining guest, even if it came in the form of the Yiling Patriarch.
Plus, it almost, almost, feels like the old times.
Wei Wuxian is telling some form of story, likely about one of their many childhood archery competitions, if his posing and sound effects are to be believed, and chomping on a chicken leg. Disciples on serving duty seem to come up with all manner of excuses to go to that particular table, and as a result, wine, hot food, and general conversation all make it to Wei Wuxian first.
To Jiang Wanyin’s right, Jiang Yan, his head disciple, is raising her hackles at the lapse in etiquette.
“Be easy, Jiang Yan.” He leans back in his chair. “The disciples mean no harm, and Wei Wuxian likes talking to them.”
“Not an excuse to forget their manners.” She says over the rim of her cup.
He raises an eyebrow. Jiang Yan was not one who cared much for gentry etiquette nor who got their wine poured first at dinnertime. Something had put her in a sour mood. He racks his brain for a bit while his wine pot is swapped out for a new one. Maybe Jiang Yan had gotten into an argument with one of the inner disciples. Maybe her partner’s rut had begun. Maybe she was just having one of those days. Granted, she had "one of those days" lots of days, but today she seemed especially volatile.
He returns his attention to Wei Wuxian.
He notes that the cultivator sits in the section clearly designed for visiting guests, rather than that of inner disciples. Equal parts approval and disappointment fill him.
He can’t feel bad.
But a small part wishes he did.
Technically, Wei Wuxian had been the one to defect. It wasn’t like he had forced the Jiang to kick him out. But what was done was done. He’d given up his golden core, and the few techniques he could handle without further invoking the power of the resentful dead were all frowned upon by the great sects that bowed to the imperial Lan. There was no sect in its right mind that would take him up, and Wei Wuxian seemed to like that just fine. Once, a couple years ago, Jiang Wanyin had angrily blurted that he was always welcome to come back after one too many drinks. The demonic cultivator had yet to give a clear answer.
If he wanted to remain alone, that was his prerogative. Wei Wuxian never broached the topic, and Jiang Wanyin refused to bring it up sober. So here they were, keeping a peaceful distance.
But tonight, it seems, the gods spare no favor to Jiang Wanyin.
It comes to a head when Wei Wuxian makes some joke or other about Jiang Wanyin needing to find a wife. That seems to be the straw that breaks Jiang Yan’s back. Even though she was a beta, her fiery temper more than made up for what she lacked in height, weight, and general masculinity. She was one of the few who could meet Jiang Wanyin’s eye in an argument, and it had served the sect well.
When she chimes in, it’s loud enough for the whole hall to hear.
“It can be so hard to keep up with all the news from the capital. You must see so many interesting things, Master Wei.”
Wei Wuxian wipes his mouth. “I suppose so, yeah…”
Jiang Wanyin gives her a warning glare. He recognizes her bursts of temper, and tries to waylay them for the sake of one peaceful meal, but she continues.
“It’s not everyday we get guests who roam so freely in and out of Cloud Recesses. Seeing the Lan everyday. By the way, how is Sect Leader Jiang’s former betrothed?”
Wei Wuxian chokes on the wine in his cup.
The hall becomes thick with the scent of apprehension, and Jiang Wanyin feels the skin on his knuckles tighten.
“Jiang Yan—” he warns.
“No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay…” Wei Wuxian coughs and gives a weak smile while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you are curious about how Hanguang-Jun is doing, you only need ask!”