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It had started as bribery.
Nie Huaisang loved pretty things, and could easily buy himself pretty things, but more than anything he loved to be given pretty things.
Meng Yao was by no means rich, his post as Nie Mingjue’s deputy barely paid more than his post as a disciple, because Nie Mingjue had told him to pay himself what he thought he deserved and he’d been too terrified to risk any more. Thankfully, his meals and clothes were provided as part of his position, so most of the rest of his money he could save.
But a select portion of each paycheck went into his fund for Huaisang.
It started simply, with a finely crafted paintbrush.
It grew from there.
When Huaisang returned from Cloud Recesses, Meng Yao presented him with another copy of the book that had been destroyed in Wei Wuxian’s schemes.
It had taken no small amount of time and bribery to track down a second copy of the out-of-print pornography, but Huaisang’s delight made it more than worth it.
The day Meng Yao walked out of the Unclean Realm, he left a fan on Huaisang’s bed.
There was a fan seller in Nightless City.
Meng Yao had been running errands for Wen Ruohan when he’d stumbled across the shop, tucked into a little side alley. He’d walked straight past it, then turned and walked back inside, perusing her wares with a keen eye.
When she was brought to the fire palace, when Wen Ruohan asked why he was buying fans, Meng Yao had smiled and lied that she was a spy.
He still gave the fan to Huaisang, because he didn’t have anything to else to give him when he’d arrived for the post-war celebration.
His head swum.
Jin Guangyao closed his eyes and cursed his newfound family. Everything had been going just fine, until he’d made one too many mistakes and-
Unfortunately, his father had decided to confiscate his monthly allotment at the same time Madame Jin had decided to ban him from the kitchens.
Really, if they ever worked together the entire cultivation world would be in danger. It was a good thing they hated one another.
He ate as little as possible, but still he was quickly burning through his savings, sneaking out of Koi Tower every night to eat in local inns and tea shops. A visit from Lan Xichen had been a momentary reprieve, because his father had been forced to allow him at meals in front of his sworn brother.
He’d come very close to begging Lan Xichen on the last day of his visit, but he swallowed it back and smiled instead.
He would live.
Somehow.
Unfortunately some of his money had to go to Xue Yang’s candy supply, because his father didn’t believe it was important, which limited the money he could be spending on himself even further.
He was seriously considering pawning something.
There wasn’t much he could sell. Any of his Jin clothes and jewelry would be immediately reported to his father, and everything else he owned was too simple to hold any worth.
All he could find after a thorough search of his rooms was a few pieces of jewelry Huaisang had given him. They had been intended for him to pawn, slipped into his bag as he’d fled the Unclean Realm, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it at the time.
He still wasn’t sure if he could.
“San-ge!” He threw himself on Jin Guangyao, clutching the silk of his robes. “What did you get me, YaoYao?”
He closed his eyes, thinking of the mostly empty coin purse in his pocket, the locked door to the kitchen, Xue Yang’s nearly empty candy bowl, his own empty stomach, and Huaisang’s plump face.
He had priorities.
He couldn’t afford a lavish gift, or even a simple one, and Huaisang was nothing but a spoiled brat.
A spoiled brat who’d once given Meng Yao every coin in his own pocket as well as his jewelry even after his brother had ordered him not to. Nie Mingjue had made it clear that if Huaisang gave Meng Yao his monthly allotment, he wouldn’t get another cent until the next month.
He’d given it all anyway.
Opening his eyes, Jin Guangyao smiled at his friend. “I thought you could pick it out, Huaisang?”
Huaisang selected a paint brush.
“Does young master not have enough brushes?” It was easy to slip back into old habits, a familiar tease on his lips.
Something flickered in Huaisang’s eyes, and there was a hint of longing as his gaze wandered over the rest of the seller’s wares, the brushes of different sizes and styles. “I- Da-ge broke them,” he muttered, kicking at the ground.
Jin Guangyao froze.
Then he mentally weighed the coins in his pocket, considered how much he had left, and told the seller, “I’ll take the set.”
Huaisang’s face was more than enough to make up for the fact that he would be going hungry for the foreseeable future.
He once again found himself staring at Huaisang’s jewelry.
It wasn’t the most elaborate jewelry, nor was it anything that Jin Guangyao would ever wear. He couldn’t even remember having seen Huaisang wearing it, and had no idea where his friend had gotten it.
There was no reason not to sell it.
That was what he’d been given it for.
Still, it felt like betrayal as he gathered up the bag and tucked it into his sleeves, slipping out of Koi Tower and in search of a jeweler.
The food that night, purchased at a stall he’d passed on his way home, tasted like the greatest thing he’d ever eaten.
Until the guilt set in.
No one came to inform him that he had visitors. Typically when his sworn brothers came to Jinlintai it was with several days - weeks even - of notice. On the very rare occasion that one of them simply showed up, a servant would rush ahead of them to find Jin Guangyao.
So he wasn’t entirely certain what to do when his door was suddenly thrown open and Nie Mingjue stormed inside, Lan Xichen trailing behind him.
“Da-ge,” he said in alarm, shoving the papers - with only minor evidence of his father’s unfortunate labor force - out of sight. “Er-ge.” He found it hard to smile, too shocked by their sudden appearance.
Judging by their faces, it wasn’t a pleasure visit. He mentally scrambled, wondering which of his father’s crimes they’d caught wind of (and for Lan Xichen to be there, they had to have at least some small amount of proof). Whatever it was, he could talk his way out of it.
Or just cry at Lan Xichen.
Nie Mingjue threw a pouch at him, the contents clinking as it hit his desk. Slowly, Jin Guangyao reached forward, opening the bag and peering inside.
Huaisang’s jewelry.
He froze, his mind whirring off on a tangent of its own, trying to make sense of what was in front of him. Where had it come from, why did Nie Mingjue have it, how did they know he had sold it, what was the game?
“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said gently. “Are you alright?”
“… Fine,” he whispered. Then he forced a smile, easily tilting his head, laughing softly he waved his hand, “I was cleaning, I saw no point in keeping-“
“When we were on the run,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “You spent every coin you had, but you told me that you refused to pawn this.” They must never have discussed it before, otherwise Nie Mingjue would have known Jin Guangyao still had it. That meant Nie Mingjue had gone to Lan Xichen the moment he located the jewelry— why? What was Jin Guangyao missing?
“Oh, er-ge,” he said, keeping his smile on his face, well aware that his second brother had a thing for his dimples. “I merely… grew up.”
Nie Mingjue’s face was unreadable.
“There was no point in having them gathering dust in my drawer, after all.” The jewelry had never been dusty. He’d polished it regularly.
“It was Huaisang’s mother’s.”
Jin Guangyao felt cold.
Huaisang didn’t talk about his mother so he knew very little about the concubine turned wife that had birthed the second Nie brother. The one time he had mentioned her, while they’d been hiding in Huaisang’s room and half-drunk on expensive wine, his friend had babbled that all he had left was jewelry. ‘I’ll never give it up, YaoYao,’ he’d said. ‘I want to be buried with it.’
He stared at the bag in growing horror.
“Half of her jewelry was fake,” explained Nie Mingjue. “But-“ he rattled the bag “-half was real.”
He didn’t know what to make of that. He’d truthfully always wondered where the jewelry came from. Huaisang didn’t wear jewelry like it, but he’d easily imagined his friend buying it on a whim.
Jin Guangyao’s mouth was dry. “Why did he-“
“He thought you would sell it,” explained Lan Xichen gently. “He knew there was a war coming and he was afraid of what would happen to you.”
“He thought you had already sold it,” Nie Mingjue continued. “I’ve been looking for it.” No doubt Huaisang had, eventually, been heartbroken over what he’d done. Even if he’d thought giving the jewelry to Meng Yao was the best idea in the moment, eventually he’d realized he had lost a piece of his mother. He would have gone to his brother in tears, sobbing and begging him to help track down where it had been sold.
Except it hadn’t been sold, it had traveled all the way to Nightless City, then back to Jinlintai.
Until he’d sold it.
Nie Mingjue must have been immediately tipped off, there must have been a signifier or maker’s mark that Jin Guangyao had overlooked or not understood the significance of. Imagine his surprise when the jeweler told him who had sold it after so long.
“A-Yao,” said Lan Xichen gently. “Are you collecting money for a reason?”
“Father hasn’t paid me in three months.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but with Lan Xichen’s gentle hand on his, he couldn’t keep it in.
Nie Mingjue looked as though he might say something, probably something cruel, something about how Jin Guangyao needed money to continue rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful.
“And Madame Jin banned me from the kitchens.”
There was a moment of shocked silence.
Lan Xichen was blinking slowly, clearly struggling to process that anyone, even Jin Guangshan, could so something so cruel.
“You bought Huaisang a brush set!” Nie Mingjue roared, looking as though he was tempted to go find his brother and whip him. “That brat begged you to buy him presents and-“
Refusing to let his friend take the blame, Jin Guangyao pushed himself to his feet. “You broke his!”
Lan Xichen turned on their elder sworn brother. “Da-ge!”
“He only asked for one, but you’d broken all of his!”
“He could have bought his own!” Nie Mingjue snarled. “Instead of begging them from you!”
“That isn’t the same!” Huaisang had a sentimental attachment to his brushes, or at least his favorites. The ones he used most weren’t always the finest, or the most expensive, but rather the ones he had emotional attachment to. Some had been gifts from his brother, others he had purchased at particular points in his life, many had once belonged to Lan Xichen, passed down to his sworn brother’s favorite person. He swore that the sentimentality made his paintings more vivid.
Jin Guangyao didn’t understand it, but that didn’t stop him from going along with it. Huaisang couldn’t possibly relate to half of what Jin Guangyao had been through, and yet he always managed to be sympathetic and understanding.
Huaisang said that was what friends did.
Lan Xichen seemed to recover from the spat first, remembering what had started it and cupping Jin Guangyao’s cheek. “A-Yao,” he murmured. “You can come to me with anything,” he promised.
“Yes, er-ge,” he found himself saying. Lan Xichen would never, could never, understand the shame of being poor. He wouldn’t understand that Jin Guangyao couldn’t simply ask him for money. Even in the midst of rebuilding his sect, Lan Xichen had access to more money than Jin Guangyao had ever had in his life.
He could likely pay Jin Guangyao’s monthly stipend thrice over with only what he had in his pocket.
He could never comprehend how disgusting that made Jin Guangyao feel.
“You can come to both of us,” Lan Xichen promised. “Isn’t that right Da-ge?” He turned, waiting for their elder brother to back him up.
The room was empty.
“This can’t go on!” Nie Mingjue roared.
“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen pleaded, grabbing at his arm. “Mingjue listen to me. We must be rational-“
“He’s going to kill our brother,” snarled Nie Mingjue. “How am I meant to be rational?”
They were going to make a scene. Nie Mingjue was hell-bent on confronting Jin Guangshan - or Madame Jin, or probably anyone surnamed Jin that could he find - and Lan Xichen was barely getting him to stop walking. He was nearly shouting.
Without a second thought, Jin Guangyao shoved them both into an empty room.
“Look at him!” Nie Mingjue continued, as though he hadn’t noticed the change of scenery. “He’s limping!”
Lan Xichen turned quickly. “Did someone hit you?” he asked.
“Uh-“ he didn’t want to lie to Lan Xichen, but he also didn’t want to outright confess to the abuse he lived with (and he couldn’t exactly ask ‘which time?’ because that would expose him to too much scrutiny.
Jin Guangyao raised a hand, stalling Lan Xichen’s question. “It’s nothing, er-ge. Truly.”
“Nothing?” Nie Mingjue’s voice was a sharp crack that reverberated off the walls. He took a step closer, his towering presence looming over Jin Guangyao. “You’re limping, A-Yao. You’re half-starved. What else is he doing to you?”
Jin Guangyao’s mind raced. He couldn’t lie—not to Lan Xichen, who would be so disappointed if he did. But the truth… the truth was a weapon he couldn’t afford to hand over, not even to his sworn brothers.
“It’s nothing serious,” he said carefully. “Just a misstep.”
Lan Xichen’s brows furrowed, his eyes soft with concern. “A-Yao…”
Nie Mingjue wasn’t so easily placated. “Misstep, my ass. Did Jin Guangshan hit you? Or was it that woman of his?” He grabbed Jin Guangyao by the arm, as if he could shake the truth loose. “Tell me!”
The sharp tug sent a jolt of pain up Jin Guangyao’s side, and he couldn’t suppress the wince fast enough. Nie Mingjue froze, his grip slackening.
Lan Xichen stepped between them, his voice low and firm. “Mingjue. That’s enough.”
For a moment, it seemed like Nie Mingjue might argue. But then he let go, his hand falling to his side in a clenched fist. “He can’t stay here,” he said, his voice tight. “I won’t allow it.”
Jin Guangyao stiffened. “Da-ge, I appreciate your concern, but—”
“No. Enough of your excuses.” Nie Mingjue jabbed a finger at him, his expression stormy. “You’re coming back to Qinghe. At least there, no one will be able to lay a hand on you.”
The offer—command—hung in the air like a blade poised to fall.
Jin Guangyao’s chest tightened. He wanted to laugh, to scream, to tell Nie Mingjue how naïve he was. Qinghe was no sanctuary, not for someone like him. Nie Mingjue’s protection was conditional, fragile, and easily shattered by the weight of expectations Jin Guangyao could never meet.
But Lan Xichen spoke first. “We can’t force him, Mingjue,” he said gently, turning to Jin Guangyao. “A-Yao, what do you want?”
Jin Guangyao swallowed hard. “I must remain here,” he said, his voice steady. “I have responsibilities in Jinlintai. I can’t abandon them.”
Nie Mingjue looked ready to argue, but Lan Xichen placed a calming hand on his arm. “Then we’ll find another way,” his second brother said softly, his gaze steady on Jin Guangyao. “You’re not alone in this, A-Yao. No matter what happens.”
The sincerity in his voice was like a knife to the gut, cutting through the carefully constructed armor Jin Guangyao had built around himself. He forced a smile, bowing his head in gratitude. “Thank you, er-ge. Da-ge.”
Nie Mingjue’s scowl didn’t soften, but he said nothing more. The silence stretched between them, heavy with words unspoken.
The door opened, far too quick to be someone merely wandering. A bright voice called out, “Oh, there you are A-Yao!”
Jin Guangyao was not of the opinion that his half-brother was terribly intelligent nor skilled at subterfuge, which made it clear when he was up to something.
Not to mention, it was hard to subtly open a door and waltz in as though you’d just happened to stumble across someone.
On his arm, Jiang Yanli smiled. “We heard your brothers had arrived,” she said.
“Heard very loudly,” muttered Jin Zixuan. Jiang Yanli elbowed him.
“I thought I heard my A-Xian and A-Cheng,” she confessed. “Brothers are often loud, aren’t they? Even over the smallest of disagreements?”
Not Lan brothers, no, thought Jin Guangyao.
“Oh, no,” said Lan Xichen quickly. “There’s no disagreement.” Then, because Lan Xichen was incapable of lying, he added, “Not today.”
Neither Jin Zixuan nor Jiang Yanli seemed convinced.
Nie Mingjue, fucking idiot that he was, didn’t leave them in suspense for long. “You come running to his aid now?” he demanded.
“Mingjue-“ Lan Xichen began.
“He’s been starving for three months! Where were you then?” It seemed that, since he had been denied access to Jin Guangshan and Madame Jin, Jin Zixuan would have to do.
“Starving?” Jin Zixuan asked abruptly.
“Nie-zongzhu,” Jiang Yanli said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m sure Zixuan didn’t know. If he had, he would have done something. Right, Zixuan?”
Jin Zixuan blinked, caught off guard. “I—of course I would have,” he said, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He turned to Jin Guangyao, his brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jin Guangyao forced a smile, keeping his voice light. “It wasn’t worth troubling anyone over. As you can see, I’m fine.”
Nie Mingjue snorted. “Fine? You can barely stand—”
“I said I’m fine,” Jin Guangyao repeated, a bit sharper this time. His gaze flicked to Jiang Yanli, who was watching him with quiet concern, and he softened his tone. “Madame Jiang, I appreciate your worry, but really, there’s no need.”
“Of course there’s a need,” she said, stepping forward. “You’re family, A-Yao. If something is wrong, we can help.”
Family. The word twisted in his chest like a knife, a bitter reminder of what he could never truly claim as his own. It didn’t matter, he supposed, what Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan thought of him. They weren’t the ones who decided his place.
Lan Xichen placed a calming hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm, then addressed Jiang Yanli. “A-Yao has been handling a difficult situation admirably, but you’re right—no one should have to bear such burdens alone.”
Nie Mingjue scowled. “If the Jin family actually cared, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
“That’s enough, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen said firmly, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. “This isn’t the time for accusations.”
“Zewu Jun is correct,” said Jiang Yanli quietly. “I fear Chifeng Zun’s strength of conviction may not have the desired effect in this situation.”
Nie Mingjue bristled. “So I’m supposed to leave it?” he demanded.
“No.” They all turned, startled by who had spoken. Jin Zixuan pushed himself up, seeming to steel himself. “I will handle it.”
Clearly unimpressed, Nie Mingjue asked, “How?”
“Sect rules do not allow for withholding of payment for work that is completed,” he said quietly. “I can go now and correct A-Yao’s wages, and gather what he is owed. If A-Yao wishes to avoid confrontation, I’ll simply say it was a computational oversight.”
Maybe Jin Zixuan did have at least a bit of intelligence.
“So you want to cover it up?” Nie Mingjue demanded.
“Da-ge,” Lan Xichen murmured.
“No,” said Jin Zixuan. “If A-Yao wishes to confront father, I will support him.”
“I don’t,” Jin Guangyao whispered.
Nie Mingjue seemed disappointed, but a glance from Lan Xichen made him hold his tongue, at least for the moment.
Silence hung between them, until Jin Zixuan took a deep breath and straightened his posture. “I won’t let this happen again,” he promised, his voice steadier now. “I know father can be… petty.”
“Petty?” Nie Mingjue repeated, his tone incredulous, eye brows shooting up.
Jin Zixuan made a funny little noise, half a stuffer, half a strangled attempt at speech. “I- uh-“ he faltered, glancing at his wife as though searching for an escape.
Jiang Yanli stepped in gracefully, her tone warm but composed. “A-Xuan recently confided that he worried A-Yao might have been harmed, but he did not know how to ask him.”
Jin Zixuan’s face flushed, but he nodded, adding quickly, “I didn’t want to… overstep.” He hesitated, glancing at Jin Guangyao with an expression that was almost shy. “But I… I should have asked.”
“But he did not know how to ask,” Jiang Yanli added gently, stepping in to clarify.
Nie Mingjue, whose blunt nature made such hesitations inconceivable, frowned. “You just ask.”
Jin Guangyao’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I would have lied.”
Jiang Yanli tilted her head, her gaze soft and warm, as if she could see right through his defenses. “Then perhaps it’s better not to ask at all,” she said, “but to act.” She reached over and placed a hand lightly atop his, her touch warm and steady. “You may have dinner with us, at any time,” she promised.
They typically took dinner in their own rooms, away from the bustle of the rest of the sect. Jin Guangyao often wondered what it was that happy people who were madly in love did in such quiet, intimate spaces. He had no frame of reference, but he imagined it must be something unbearably perfect.
Jin Zixuan cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “It’s not much,” he said, almost apologetic. “But if you ever need—” He hesitated, as though weighing the weight of his next words, before glancing at Jiang Yanli for reassurance. She nodded encouragingly. “If you ever need anything, you can come to us.”
Jin Guangyao inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “Thank you.”
Jiang Yanli gave Jin Zixuan’s arm a gentle tug. “We should leave them to their discussion,” she said, her voice light and sweet, though her gaze lingered on Jin Guangyao for a moment longer. “Remember, A-Yao—any time.”
As they turned to go, Jin Zixuan glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll handle the wages today,” he said, his tone determined in a way that almost made him seem capable. “And I’ll look into… everything else.”
Jin Guangyao watched them leave, the soft murmur of their voices fading down the hallway. Jiang Yanli’s quiet reassurances to her husband were just barely audible, her tone warm and soothing, like sunlight spilling through cracked shutters.
When the silence returned, it felt heavier than before.
Nie Mingjue crossed his arms, scowling. “If you didn’t want to lie, you could have just told him the truth.”
Jin Guangyao turned to him, his smile now brittle. “And burden them further? I think not.”
“You’re impossible.”
“On that, Da-ge, we agree.”
Lan Xichen sighed, stepping between them with a small shake of his head. “Mingjue. A-Yao. Perhaps we can redirect this energy toward resolving the matter rather than debating how it should have been handled?”
Nie Mingjue muttered something under his breath but didn’t press further. Jin Guangyao gave a shallow bow, his mask firmly back in place. “As always, er-ge, your wisdom is unparalleled.”
Lan Xichen frowned faintly at the deflection, but before he could respond, Jin Guangyao gestured toward the door. “If we’re finished here, I have much to attend to.”
Neither brother moved immediately, but Jin Guangyao didn’t wait for their consent. His footsteps echoed faintly as he disappeared into the corridor, leaving the two behind.
Nie Mingjue growled. “That man’s pride will be the death of him.”
Lan Xichen glanced toward the door, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps,” he said softly. “But I fear it’s his kindness that will break him first.”
The sun was setting when Jin Guangyao finally found a moment to himself, tucked away in one of Jinlintai’s quieter courtyards. The warmth of the day was fading, replaced by a cool breeze that whispered through the halls. It had been hours since the conversation with his sworn brothers, and though the tension had subsided, the weight of their concern lingered.
He didn’t hear Lan Xichen approach—his second brother’s footsteps were always light, as though he didn’t wish to disturb even the air around him. Jin Guangyao turned just as Lan Xichen reached out to touch his shoulder.
“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said softly, his tone gentle but insistent. “Walk with me for a moment.”
Jin Guangyao inclined his head, falling into step beside him as they moved toward a more secluded corridor. When Lan Xichen was certain they were alone, he stopped and turned to face him, his expression clouded with worry.
“A-Yao,” he said again, more quietly this time. “Take this.” He pressed a coin purse into Jin Guangyao’s hands, his grip firm when Jin Guangyao instinctively tried to push it away. “Don’t argue. Just keep it with you. Hide it somewhere safe in case you need it.”
Jin Guangyao hesitated, glancing down at the purse. It was heavier than he expected, the silk cord finely embroidered—a small but unmistakable mark of Lan Xichen’s quiet generosity. His chest tightened.
“Er-ge—” he began, but Lan Xichen cut him off.
“Please,” he said, his voice soft but pleading. “I know you. You’ll say you don’t need it, but that isn’t the point. Just keep it. Indulge me in this, if nothing else.”
Jin Guangyao’s fingers tightened around the purse, weighing his options. He didn’t want it—didn’t want the reminder of how easily Lan Xichen could provide what he himself had struggled for years to achieve. And yet, the genuine concern in his brother’s eyes was impossible to ignore.
He opened the purse and blinked at the sight of the contents. He’d been wrong about Lan Xichen’s pockets. He wasn’t carrying just enough to lend a little aid—he was carrying more than three times Jin Guangyao’s monthly wages.
Jin Guangyao let out a soft laugh, sharp at the edges. “Er-ge, you can’t possibly mean to walk around like this.”
Lan Xichen smiled faintly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been robbed. Perhaps people find me unassuming.”
“That, or your reputation precedes you,” Jin Guangyao replied dryly, but his hands moved to close the purse all the same.
He looked up, his gaze meeting Lan Xichen’s, and with a careful smile, he pushed the purse back toward him. Before Lan Xichen could protest, Jin Guangyao reached into his robes and withdrew the bag Nie Mingjue had given him earlier. He held it up, letting its weight speak for itself.
“I appreciate the thought,” he said softly, his tone as sincere as he could make it, “but Da-ge has already seen to my needs.”
Lan Xichen’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Very well. I suppose it is his duty as first brother.”
Jin Guangyao inclined his head, his grip tightening slightly on Nie Mingjue’s pouch. He hadn’t had the chance to count the contents yet, but by the weight of it, he guessed it would be enough to live off of for several months.
He tucked it back into his robes and glanced at Lan Xichen. “Thank you, er-ge. Truly.”
Lan Xichen placed a hand on his shoulder, his smile softening. “You don’t have to thank me, A-Yao. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
Jin Guangyao’s smile didn’t falter, but the words settled heavy in his chest. “Of course,” he lied.
Lan Xichen lingered for a moment longer, his touch warm and steady, before stepping away and disappearing down the corridor. Jin Guangyao remained where he stood, the cool breeze brushing against his skin. His gaze dropped to the ground, where the fading light cast long shadows against the tiles.
He slipped the purse back into his sleeve and turned toward the main hall, his steps measured and precise, as though the weight of the day didn’t press on him at all. And still, despite the weight in his robes, he felt impossibly light— as though everything he carried was already slipping through his fingers.