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He can’t feel his limbs like he should. They’re heavy dead weights against his side like extensions without really connecting to his joints. The wind howls through his ears, striking the very marrow of his bones. Yet, the chilling air leaves little cold for him to notice beyond a tickling sensation. He remembers pain, a sharp, muted pain as the whites of Wen Qionglin’s eyes meet his, blank and soulless. He remembers looking past him and seeing the horrified expression on Wei Wuxian’s face. He remembers—
Dying. He remembers dying.
The world rips away from his vision, and his body slumps over. His last message is full of hope that his loving wife and his innocent son may see their beloved Wei Ying one more time. He never imagines this is how he would die. Even less so does he expect to wake up. Jin Zixuan knows he’s not supposed to be here. Recalling the moment when Wen Qionglin runs his sharp fingertips inside him during the fight, he brings his hand to his chest. But the moment he touches it, he’s shocked when his hand passes right through. Removing his hand, he finds his own fingertips mirror the ones that stole away his life. Sharp, jagged nails. The lack of needing to breathe even though he feels as if he should.
It all makes sense now. Jin Zixuan is suddenly much too aware of how stiff his body is and how dark the veins running underneath his skin are. Somehow, he’s both turned into a fierce corpse but has also retained his wit in a way that he’s positive he is under no one’s control. The fact sends him into utter silence. All of a sudden, he crumples to the ground as his head fills with screaming.
He instinctively knows they are voices of other souls. He doesn’t know how, but there’s nothing else they could be.
Move. Find him. Kill him. Fulfill our vengeance. We call you to. Fight for our peace. Get up. Move!
Jin Zixuan understands now. Their accumulated power has granted him a second chance. But, just who is he supposed to hunt? His question is answered with a wave of bloodlust. The source he realizes is familiar, like the blood that once flowed through his entire being.
He needs to go back to Lanling and return to his home.
An empty space at his side makes him take pause. Suihua is gone, but he supposes fatigue is no longer an issue. His body doesn’t creak with the strain that he’s used to. Jin Zixuan jumps from the ravine with inhuman ease and runs off. The world moves quickly around him. He’s hyper aware of every blade of grass to the very water churning through the rivers.
By the time he makes it back to Jinlintai, he could sense something was amiss from the very air coiling about the tower. Figuring that walking through the front door would cause more trouble than he wanted, he opts to take one of the many secret passages winding through the underground.
Before he can make it too far, a wave of resentful energy tempts him from the dungeons. Even in life, Jin Zixuan didn’t like the dungeons. He stayed away from them as much as he could. An inkling told him that perhaps he should have paid attention.
The resentment calls to him like a lure. He follows paths that he’d never walked. When the passage opens up, he finds himself in what looks like a torture chamber. If he still had a heart, he might have felt it sinking.
The walls hang with sharp implements and modified weapons meant to inflict pain or cut through flesh with ease. There’s an empty tray sitting on a side table. Old blood stains its surface. Jin Zixuan scans the room, his eyes seeing in the dark almost as well as in the day.
Suddenly, he realizes he isn’t alone. A body is strung on a far wall. The resentment grows stronger as he walks up and runs a hand to move the hair. Jin Zixuan’s eyes widen.
“Wen Qionglin?” he whispers to himself in disbelief. Why would he be down here of all people? He doesn’t understand. It muddies his mind so much that he nearly misses when a sword flashes behind him.
He rears back and swings his arm, catching the blade and throwing it back. The intruder yelps as Jin Zixuan lunges and immediately pins him to the floor. The struggle is immediate, but it does nothing against his strength now. The dungeon suddenly fills with light as someone else enters, holding a torch. Jin Zixuan’s eyes flick over only to be met with none other than his own half-brother.
Jin Guangyao seems taken off guard. His expression shows nothing, but Jin Zixuan can sense the tenseness in his limbs. With the light, he can make out the poor soul under him, too. Drowned in golden robes is none other than Xue Yang, one of the promising guest disciples his father had taken in. He knows how boisterous and arrogant the boy is and opts to act first. One swift palm strike to the back of his neck, and Xue Yang goes limp. He leans him against the wall before making his intentions clear with a glare. Jin Guangyao can read into it enough.
He slowly walks past Jin Zixuan and places the torch into a wall sconce.
“This one greets you, Jin-gongzi. This is certainly an unexpected circumstance. Most people who die often stay dead,” he says bleakly. Jin Zixuan can’t help but snort at such a comment.
“The feeling is mutual,” he deadpans. “Although I think I am far from being the heir at the moment. Surely, you can drop the titles. My name will suffice. While I would love to catch up on what I’ve missed, I demand to know what’s going on here. Why is Wen Qionglin chained to our dungeon wall, A-Yao? Please, enlighten me.”
“It’s a project,” Jin Guangyao retorts quickly enough. It’s a diplomatic answer, but not the one Jin Zixuan wants to hear. Perhaps dying has cleared his thoughts. Gone is the hesitation that’s kept him from speaking his mind.
“Your project,” he presses, “or is this another one of father’s?” His brother’s silence is deafening. Jin Zixuan shakes his head, unable to hide his disappointment. He understands Jin Guangyao’s need to make himself worthy of his father’s affection. He has acknowledged his efforts during the Sunshot Campaign. But to know that he would turn himself to the dark arts left a bad taste in his mouth, even a dead one. “Release him back to Wei Wuxian. It is the most we can do to respect him.”
Jin Guangyao shakes his head. “I can’t do that. Father won’t… He would kill me for that.” Jin Zixuan raises a brow as if questioning the audacity of that statement. Jin Guangyao catches himself, raising a hand in defense. “Not that I meant any offense to being dead.”
“Right.”
“Much has changed, Jin-gongzi—Ah, Z-Zixuan,” Jin Guangyao says. For the first time that night, Jin Zixuan spots a sense of tiredness within his whole demeanor.
“Tell me, then. Tell me why father has turned to demonic cultivation. Tell me why you have turned towards it and dragged others with you.” Jin Zixuan glances towards Xue Yang. From the concentration of resentful energy, he knows Xue Yang can’t be the only one.
Nothing prepares him for his brother’s next words.
“Wei Wuxian is dead. As is… Jiang Yanli.”
Jin Zixuan finds himself stunned. He freezes, struck numb with absolute horror. The brightness in his life, his purpose for trying to make his den of snakes home a safe one, all of it flashes and fades just as quickly as his memory falters and breaks. He’d died to see his future brother-in-law. Then, he dies. And his wife is gone, too. It’s too much. Yet, he can’t mourn. He can’t cry even a single tear in this moment. The only thing that curls his entire being is anger.
He takes a step towards Jin Guangyao, rage morphing in his eyes. The smaller Jin shudders when Jin Zixuan’s fist collides with the stone wall beside his head. The bricks crumble easily under his touch.
“Do not lie to me, A-Yao. For as long as I call you that, I trust that you’ll speak only the truth to me. How?” he snarls. Jin Guangyao’s guise ripples, and something sincere rises like guilt, compelling him to speak.
“You were not supposed to die,” he states with a resounding edge in his voice. Jin Guangyao squeezed his eyes shut. He ground his teeth together before calming down. He said it again, calmer and with resolve. “You were not supposed to die. I never expected you to chase after Zixun. Father only meant to blame Wei Wuxian for his death. But you died together with him. The Wen remnants, The Ghost General and Wen Qing in particular, took the fall instead. It was an unending storm. They burned Wen-guniang alive. Wen Qionglin’s death, however, was faked. Father ordered me to take him prisoner instead of becoming a subject of experiment. Afterwards… Wei Wuxian lost control.”
“Lost control,” Jin Zixuan echoes. A disturbing inkling in the back of his mind comes to light. He knows that Jin Guangyao knows, too.
“It was a massacre. That was the night that Jiang-guniang lost her life. I truly do not know why she was there. But, I imagine it was to stop her brother.”
Jin Zixuan could believe that. Jiang Yanli’s love for her family was overwhelming. He’d been overjoyed to know that it extended to him as well, despite their falling outs.
“How did she die?” he finds himself asking.
“An arrow pierced her chest.” Jin Guangyao takes a deep breath. “In the weeks after, the sects allied together in one final siege on the Burial Mounds. The Yiling Patriarch was finally defeated once and for all. A pity cost to pay for a new era.”
The anger barely dissipates, but Jin Zixuan gathers himself together.
“I knew Wei Wuxian better than that. He would not have lost control. My guess is someone tampered with him just like Qiongqi Path. Does that sound about right?” he asks.
Jin Guangyao says nothing except, “You were not supposed to die.”
He ponders his words, digesting them and realizing that of all that Jin Guangyao has said, he’s confirmed that only Jin Zixun was meant to perish. There are times when Jin Zixuan has been stupid, but he’s not that dense. He had been manipulated into losing control. He had no doubts of that.
“It’s a shame,” Jin Zixuan laments. “If I hadn’t woken up sooner, then maybe I could have cleared things up. I might have been able to save A-Li.”
“Maybe.”
Jin Zixuan turns his attention to Xue Yang. He asks Jin Guangyao how many others have taken up demonic cultivation. This time, Jin Guangyao stills his expressions, schools it back to his diplomatic mask. But Jin Zixuan senses his brother’s hands twitching and catches the slight movement in the corner of his eyes.
Four fingers. Four men.
“You and this disciple make up two. Who are the third and fourth?”
Jin Guangyao makes a noise of awe, shocked that Jin Zixuan could deduce it. There’s a sense of resignation in him. He knows he’s defeated. Jin Zixuan isn’t here to let him get away with a single thing.
“Su She is our resident musician. He is a former disciple of Gusu Lan. The last is Mo Xuanyu, our newest addition, and he is also… Our half-brother, another bastard child that our father sired and abandoned. We have been using what could be salvaged as war trophies from Wei Wuxian’s studies. Father has us developing a tool that can artificially control fierce corpses like a puppet. It’s not like you with your free will. Although I do wish to know how you are of such a sound mind. In any fashion, we aim for a powerless and mindless weapon. That is what the Ghost General is for,” Jin Guangyao explains.
A sneer comes across Jin Zixuan’s face.
“His name is Wen Ning, courtesy Wen Qionglin. For all that we’ve done to him and his family, he deserves the respect. You know, when you first came here as a war hero, I thought you were a much more respectable man. But clearly, I’ve underestimated just how much scheming father has been up to.” Jin Guangyao meekly winces at that. Jin Zixuan shakes the dust from his hands. “Sorry about the wall.”
“Nothing that can’t be paid for and replaced,” Jin Guangyao mutters mechanically.
Jin Zixuan stares him down. “I’m going to change things. I have strength I never had before. I also have a right to avenge a life lost to me. It starts at the top.”
“What are you going to do, Zixuan?” his brother quietly asks.
“The chains on your neck and everyone else in this wretched place extend from father. But, he’s long lost the right to that title. That goes for both of us. I know how much you want to be in his good graces. But, I believe your skills are set in the wrong place.”
There’s fight in Jin Guangyao’s stance. A steady hand comes to rest at his waist, tapping steadily as his jaw locks together.
“My life has already led to this. What does it matter if I acquire more sins to my name?”
Jin Zixuan laughs dryly.
“Perhaps, it’s long overdue, but you should chase after someone else, someone who notices you.”
Jin Guangyao seems amused but takes a bite at his words.
“Who might that be?”
Jin Zixuan points him to himself.
“I’m taking back this sect. Tonight, if possible. I would love it if you would be willing to stand by my side,” he declares. He takes a pause and adds one last thing. “Once it’s over, I would also like to see my son.”
This leaves Jin Guangyao hesitating, but his eyes betray him at last. Jin Zixuan knows how affectionate he is with little Jin Ling. They had trouble allowing him to see his own nephew due to Jin Guangshan’s interference. If this succeeded, then he could finally have the family he deserves. They both would.
Jin Guangyao wipes away the teardrops and clears his throat, composing himself.
“I suppose that it’s not the first sect leader I’ve betrayed,” he half-jokes.
“Hopefully, it’s the last time,” Jin Zixuan nervously adds. He truly wants to trust Jin Guangyao. “By any chance, do you know where Suihua is?”
Jin Guangyao nods. “I’ll fetch it from the treasury.”
“Wait, what about Xue Yang? He’s seen me.”
Jin Guangyao thinks for a moment before answering the question.
“That one has both the sharpest mouth and mind of our group besides myself. But I know how to keep him in line. Don’t worry too much. Now, come. You shouldn’t linger here, even if the patrols are scarce here.”
He ushers Jin Zixuan out of the dungeons. Oddly enough, he ends up in a remote corner of Jinlintai. They discreetly make their way through even more tunnels and secret passages, winding until Jin Guangyao deposits them in a bedroom. There, he finds himself greeted by a rather shocking sight.
Two cultivators look him up and down, seemingly recognizing him despite his ill appearance. One is dressed in plain rogue cultivator robes in a simple grey and black garb. Familiarity radiates from him, and Jin Zixuan concludes that’s Su She. The other has Jin gold, much like Xue Yang, and no doubt, he must be Mo Xuanyu. His new younger half-brother is holding a bundle in his arms.
If Jin Zixuan still needed to breathe, this would have been the moment he might have nearly lost it. It takes him everything not to run over and grab his son. Jin Ling’s grown since the last time he’s seen him. He wants to coo at his face and weep over the weight in his arms. But, not yet. It’s not the time.
Jin Guangyao makes a silent gesture, and Mo Xuanyu takes him to a bamboo cradle lined with soft golden blankets with peonies embroidered around the edges. A little woven toy dog sits nestled beside him, and Jin Ling grabs for it before sleeping soundly. Jin Zixuan takes a moment before letting Jin Guangyao take over. He’s unbothered as he addresses the other two.
“There’s been a change of plans,” he says briskly. “Through some unforeseen circumstances, we’ll be usurping the current Sect Leader Jin with our own. We also might have accidentally knocked Xue Yang unconscious. It would be fundamental if one of you explains this new agenda to him as quickly as possible once he comes to. We rest tonight and strike tomorrow before all of Jin Guangshan’s advisers.”
Su She and Mo Xuanyu exchanged a look. Jin Zixuan could see the questions forming in their mind, but they were more eager to please first. He isn’t the first fierce corpse they’ve seen nor had to work with. So, perhaps this wasn’t quite as surprising.
“I’ll deal with Xue Yang,” Su She offers and slips away like a mouse, leaving only Mo Xuanyu in their presence. The boy seems to know exactly who Jin Zixuan is. He clears his throat.
“Would you like to get cleaned up and into some new robes?” he asks.
Before Jin Zixuan can answer, Jin Guangyao shoves him into Mo Xuanyu’s arms. They both make startled noises of complaints, but Jin Guangyao only claps both of their shoulders.
“Don’t worry too much. A-Yu has a talent for this. Trust our younger brother, yes?” he reassures Jin Zixuan before leaving for the treasury.
Silence takes hold of both of them, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Jin Zixuan finds himself almost staring at a younger version of himself. Mo Xuanyu is quiet yet diligent. He’s unbothered by the muck and blood that stains his body. His skill shows itself in time.
Jin Zixuan almost forgets that he’s a fierce corpse when he looks in the mirror. He might even believe that he looks even better than when he was alive in his splendor. Mo Xuanyu looks smug as he glances over Jin Zixuan for any final imperfections to fix. The makeup makes him look bright and alive. He fashions an altered set of robes that skillfully keeps any seams away from Jin Zixuan’s claws and stretches to keep his ability to move around quickly without any restraints.
Su She and Xue Yang return some time later, by which point Jin Guangyao reveals a bundle of wrapped cloth in his arms. Jin Zixuan takes the bundle and takes a deep breath before unraveling it. Suihua is exactly as he remembers. He sheathes it at his side and leans against the wall, watching his son breathe.
There are a few hours before the impending storm, and they’ll all need their energy to make sure this goes off without a hitch. Xue Yang tries to poke Jin Zixuan for some small talk, but Su She glares him down enough for him to grumble and sleep in a chair. Su She and Mo Xuanyu share a bed while Jin Guangyao spells the room for the night and takes his leave.
Just before sunrise, he returns with a determined expression.
“It’s time,” he states.
Su She and Xue Yang strap their own spiritual swords to their side, ready for the onslaught.
“Where should I be?” Mo Xuanyu asks.
His cultivation is still too weak to hold his own against anyone they end up facing. As much as Jin Zixuan would have liked to have him by his side, he would become a liability. Thankfully, Jin Guangyao already seems to have a plan. Jin Guangyao’s brows press together into a serious gaze.
“Take Jin Ling and Qin Su to the safe room in the southern chambers. Quickly. Do not answer to anyone until we find you after,” he orders. Mo Xuanyu bows and scurries off with Jin Ling in his arms.
Jin Zixuan sends Jin Guangyao a questioning look.
“Wait,” his brother whispers. He gets the hint.
Xue Yang and Su She are given specific places to lie in hiding for the aftermath. Once they exit, Jin Zixuan finally turns to Jin Guangyao.
“So, who is Qin Su?” he says teasingly. Jin Guangyao clams up a bit. A slight tint rises to his cheeks.
“She is… My betrothed,” he reveals. For a moment, he almost gives a soft, gentle smile before a crestfallen one overtakes it. “She is also another one, our half-sister.”
That information takes Jin Zixuan by mild surprise. It seems he would be meeting many new siblings in a short time.
“Do you love her still?” he asks. Jin Guangyao fervently nods.
“Always. She has been a grounding spirit in my life. I didn’t know we were related until we had already consummated and declared our marriage to our families. The crux of it lies in the fact that… A-Su is with child. She will birth us a loving little baby, and I must do my best to raise them despite our shared bloodline. But A-Su does not know of our relation. I have promised myself that I will not touch her again so long as she continues to lie in the dark,” he confesses.
Jin Zixuan considers his situation and decides that it is respectable given the circumstances he’s been dealt.
“It’s a noble choice,” he tells Jin Guangyao.
“Hardly.” The former scoffs.
Jin Zixuan wonders if it’s due to their relationship. The taboo of such incestual relations is an unspoken stain. Most people know that. However, he sees no qualm why anyone should shoulder that shame if they can live with peace in it.
He asks, “Is it because she is our sister?”
“No,” Jin Guangyao immediately answers. “Incestual relationships are far from the world’s worst horrors nor crimes in this world. It's more of that fact that… She was the one person I wished I didn’t have to lie to.”
His conviction stirs something in Jin Zixuan’s chest like a spark in his still, dead heart.
“Noble,” he says again.
He decides to drop this for now and grips his sword. There is a bit of solemn reprieve, seeing that Suihua lies unmoving, the blade sealing itself in its sheath. It no longer recognizes him as its master. He thinks that perhaps Jin Ling can inherit the blade once he is older.
“I won’t be able to use Suihua to fight, but it will be a show for the people,” he tells Jin Guangyao.
“A show is all we need for sect relations. It will be enough,” the other affirms. “Let’s head out now.”
Jin Zixuan nods and takes the lead. The walk to the throne room weighs heavily on their shoulders.
The guards at the door shout for them to halt for their sect leader is in an important meeting, but their faces freeze when they see Jin Zixuan. Jin Guangyao can’t help but make an amused face.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. For all that it’s worth, I suggest you let us through,” he says. The cultivators slowly move aside. They are wary, yet they know to listen to Jin Guangyao’s orders.
There’s a shocked clamor when they enter, for who could have the audacity to interrupt a meeting with the sect leader, until they all realize who it is that has disturbed them.
Jin Guangshan stills and stands to his feet.
“What is the meaning of this?!” he shouts. He glares at Jin Guangyao. “What have you done, Guangyao?”
Jin Guangyao only smiles diplomatically and leaves the floor to Jin Zixuan.
“He’s done nothing. I am here of my own accord,” Jin Zixuan declares. The murmurs rise like a wave while Jin Guangshan puts on falsified horror.
“Impossible! This is all some horrendous trick. My son is dead. You dare bring some impostor here to his likeness. Guangyao, speak up!” he demands. However, Jin Zixuan narrows his eyes.
“He is here as a witness to the future of this sect. If you choose not to believe me, perhaps this will convince you, fuqin.”
The onlookers wrinkle their faces in disgust when Jin Zixuan begins to strip until they all see the hole in his chest. They all know the story. The know that’s not something that can be faked so easily. They also know that he’s become a fierce corpse himself.
Jin Zixuan redresses and grabs Suihua.
“This trick you claim is nothing but speculation. But what is a fact is your greed for power. My death meant nothing to you, so that even I was left to rot at the bottom of Qiongqi Path. I wonder whose ashes you posed as mine instead. I wonder how many more you’ve corrupted since then. Regardless, I have come to avenge the voices of those you’ve silenced. I offer but a simple thing.” He throws his blade to the floor. It’s an age-old tradition, the challenge of a one-on-one duel. “I may be a fierce corpse now, but I am a man of my word. If you can say the same, then accept with honor. I challenge you, Jin Guangshan, for the throne of Lanling Jin and the position of Sect Leader.”
There’s a roar around them. His father glances around with blinding rage building in his eyes. There is too much on the line, and too many people egging him on to back down. Begrudgingly, he descends from his golden seat on high and draws his own blade, Shuang Ren. It’s a thin sword with notable notches carved out on either side. He crosses it against Suihua’s hilt.
“This will be your undoing, boy,” he growls. “Fierce corpse, blasted shade, or whatever demonic beast you are— I don’t know how you have returned, but damn it all if you think you can usurp Lanling from my hands.”
Jin Guangyao retrieves Suihua and moves to the side, leaving them to circle each other. Jin Zixuan stares his father down with disdain. Suddenly, every fiber of his being strums like a lute has taken over the very marrow of his bones.
Fulfill our vengeance! Strike him down! Destroy him!
The souls congregate, and his senses heighten. He knows exactly where Jin Guangshan will step and where he intends to swing. He flexes and allows dark black veins to pulse under his skin. His nails elongate like ten blades. Gone is his hesitation and cowardly guise in his old, vulnerable self. He lunges with great speed and elegance. Hunting instinct drives his strength and steadies his stance. However, Jin Guangshan meets him in full force.
Blade connects against iron-like flesh. Jin Zixuan realizes that he’s never seen his father fight. He’s shocked that he’s able to hold his own. Even the Jin cultivators and advisers are struck into silence. Jin Guangshan has always been arrogant. If he could avoid getting his hands dirty, then he would. Everyone had forgotten just how decent a swordsman he was.
“Surprised? You should know that I was one of the best of my generation. It takes more than the simple ability to control the presence of a room and speak politics to rule,” he boasts.
Jin Zixuan dodges as he takes a dive. He barely shifts quickly enough. His nails graze against the blade. Abruptly, Jin Guangshan shifts his weight in mid-air. Rather than landing his sword thrust, his momentum turns into a ricochet. His wrist turns at the last moment. Jin Zixuan barely registers the moment it passes through. Shuang Ren strikes with a sharp, lithe twist. The double-edged teeth shred into his hip.
He jumps back, wrenching himself off the sword’s grip. His father goads him, mocking him, but Jin Zixuan blocks his voice out. He curls his fingers together and races up, jabbing with an uppercut. Not so unlike his own death, his hand drills straight through his father’s heart. Like father, like son, indeed.
The fire kindling within his veins starts to flicker and die until nothing but silence and peace takes over. A ghost on his shoulders lets go.
Thank you, Jin Zixuan.
He shuts his eyes and mutters under his breath, “Goodbye, father.”
Jin Zixuan feels the moment Jin Guangshan takes his final breath. His body goes limp around his hand, and he falls. Jin Zixuan takes Shuang Ren from where his father’s fingers release its hilt. With little valor, he stabs it into his skull.
No one dares to move.
“It appears that the duel has reached its pinnacle,” Jin Guangyao calls out. “Are there any others who wish to oppose the outcome?”
None step forward. With a nod, Jin Guangyao tucks Suihua under his arm and takes a bow. His voice spreads through the hall like a heavy cloud has lifted. They all pledge their loyalty to the new Sect Leader Jin, an echo of a long time coming. His father’s rule has cleansed.
He rises to the throne and turns to face the crowd. He’s ready to usher forth a new era, one free of his father’s abhorred tyranny and underhanded ways. The people of Lanling Jin will see a brighter future with a phoenix rising from the den of snakes. There are cheers and shouts. He will win them over in time.
Jin Zixuan spots Jin Guangyao staring at their father’s corpse. He’s still and unreadable in the moment. When he raises his head to meet Jin Zixuan’s gaze, he sees the moment when Jin Guangyao lets go. Relief. Acceptance. Renewal. He hopes that he can see more of his real smile from his brother.
News spreads through Lanling almost as fast as the fire amidst the strongest winds. A few more days, and the entirety of the Jianghu would hear. Jin Zixuan knows what’s coming. He will be met with opposition that he’s being controlled. But, he hopes he can bring some peace after all that’s happened.
The night draws to him like a fur coat made of dead things to keep his own dead flesh warm. He finds himself in front of the ancestral tomb. It’s a bit ominous to stare at his own name etched into the tablet. From what he’s gathered, his father’s cultivators took Jin Zixun’s body back in pieces, burned it, and passed it off as both victims. He’d fallen into the gorge and been abandoned without another thought.
Jin Zixuan twitches his nose. He thinks that if he still could, this would have been the perfect time for a jar of wine. It’s strange how much he misses the sharp, flavorful notes. He’s still there when the moon curves in the sky. Jin Guangyao finds him, bearing a lantern pole in his hand.
“I was wondering where you’d gone off to,” he says. When Jin Zixuan doesn’t answer, he tethers the light and kneels next to him. “Madam Jiang mourned you every single moment until her final days. Any time she wasn’t tending to A-Ling, she sat vigil for you. It took many of us to pry her away from this place just so she could eat and rest.”
She’d mourned for him. Now, Jin Zixuan mourns the fact that he couldn’t cry for her. He sighs, forcing air into his lungs even though he has no need for air.
“I really did love her,” he whispers.
“I know.” Jin Guangyao slowly reaches over and squeezes his shoulder tight in an awkward hug. “Love only comes once for some.”
Jin Zixuan looks at him.
“Is it the same for you?” he asks.
His brother hums. “You are right. Qin Su should know the truth. And if she chooses to leave, then I must move on, even so… Zixuan, do you think me as selfish to want to keep this facade for blissful, ignorant happiness?”
“Perhaps,” Jin Zixuan amends. “Atoning for the dead may be all you can do if that’s what you want. But it should be important to think of what Qin Su wants, too. I think she deserves a say.”
Jin Guangyao stays silent for a moment before he asks him, “What about you?”
Jin Zixuan laughs. “It’ll be hard to find someone who opens the joy in this world as much as A-Li did. I’m not at a complete loss. I have A-Ling, still. And, I have you.”
His brother gasps, lips parting with raw shock. He looks deep into Jin Zixuan’s eyes and can see how serious he is. His body may be taught, but there is pure emotion swimming out from his very soul. Not so much changed. He still wears his emotions on his sleeves in some ways. Something makes him yearn for more.
“If I ask, would you join me in ways that…brothers should not?”
He’s already slept with his half-sister. His sins are too numerous to count. One more would mean nothing unless it meant he could find happiness, too.
Jin Zixuan doesn’t waver as he turns and suddenly clasps a hand on either side of his face. They’re cold on his burning skin, but Jin Guangyao can’t help but moan at the touch. It’s such tenderness he’s long forgotten.
“I’m the sect leader. Who’s going to fight me?” he speculates before leaning in and letting their lips meet in the middle.
Jin Zixuan drowns and drowns in his warmth. Small fingers grip at his sides and twist as Jin Zixuan presses his tongue in, reaching further until his brother taps him. He jerks back, apologetic as Jin Guangyao breaks for air where he does not.
“Some of us need to breathe,” Jin Guangyao sarcastically notes at him.
“Sorry,” Jin Zixuan wheezes, a slight smile curving at his lips. He sighs as he turns towards the tablet again. “I suppose this tablet needs to be redone. Or maybe moved. The old Jin Zixuan has died with Jiang Yanli. She deserves to carry her memory of me, even if she will never see me as I am now. And her memory is surrounded by the lotus flowers of her home.”
“I will arrange a meeting with Sect Leader Jiang Wanyin when it’s convenient. And I will speak with A-Su as well.”
Jin Zixuan nods and grasps Jin Guangyao’s arm, helping him to his feet.
“I’ll be there for you, no matter the outcome. But for now, what say we take this somewhere that doesn’t feel like we are desecrating our ancestors,” he suggests.
“I am amenable to that. My chambers will do.” Jin Zixuan gestures for him to lead the way.
The way Jin Guangyao tears into him the moment his bedchamber doors close makes Jin Zixuan question who might be the feral ones between them. He drags them to the bed and unveils their bodies with lithe movements. Even with all the layers, he seems to know exactly which knots to undo for utmost speed. Laid bare before burning candlelight and the slight sun drifting from a window propped open, Jin Zixuan notices things about his brother he’d never seen before.
Scars. Too many scars. He has his own fair share of old wounds, but nothing like this. He can tell they aren’t all from sparring or some wild beast encounter. He knows enough to know some are burns, faded knife wounds, and healed skin where it must have been torn off. With a body so small and thin, he suddenly thinks that his brother might break.
But Jin Guangyao proves him wrong.
“Your thoughts are excruciatingly loud, Zixuan,” he teases. “I’m not a fragile doll. Now, let’s see if you’re as functional in other places as much as the rest of your body seems to respond.”
He runs his hands across his body, ghosting past the hole in Jin Zixuan’s chest. He sinks lower and coaxes his arousal. His cock seems functional enough, swelling under Jin Guangyao’s touch. Black veins bulge along his shaft, and Jin Guangyao glances into his eyes one last time. Jin Zixuan nods, and it’s the last boundary blurred between them.
Jin Guangyao swallows him entirely in one go. It shocks him entirely. Even Yanli had struggled in such a feat. His brother barely even gags before coming back up. Jin Zixuan moans, twisting his hands into the bedsheets. His nails snag at the fibers and rip them a little. Jin Guangyao squeezes his throat around his cock. He can’t help but buck at the wetness and heat.
“Of fuck, fuck fuck, A-Yao. I can’t hold it. I’m cumming!” He spills his load like a great current spewing amidst the summer rain. This time, Jin Guangyao chokes a bit. He pulls his head off, coughing up a glob of thick cum on his tongue. Jin Zixuan winces and becomes wracked with a sense of nervousness. “I’m sorry.”
Jin Guangyao waves his off, and weirdly gurgles the cum to the side of his mouth, much to Jin Zixuan’s mutual dismay and awe.
“You’ve probably been stagnant for a while,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Jin Zixuan’s worry erupts.
“Maybe, we should stop. I truly wonder if this is safe. I don’t think you should swallow and more of that—Mmph!?”
His brother grabs his face and kisses him harshly, forcing his own cum into his mouth. Jin Zixuan flails a bit and instinctively swallows. He shrieks horrifically like a bewildered stray cat. Jin Guangyao flashes his eyes and tilts his head innocently.
“I think we can forget safety right now,” he breathes out heavily. He punches Jin Zixuan’s shoulder a bit as he scoots up. “Gege, please. If you don’t fuck me right now, I won’t hesitate to stab you with Hensheng.”
Something flares up inside Jin Zixuan. His nostrils flare as he forces air into his lungs. He thinks he’s more than happy to oblige to his request. He growls and flips them around.
“I think I like it when you call me that.”
He doesn’t miss how his brother smirks and tucks that away into his head. Jin Guangyao reaches up and pulls a small jar from behind his pillow. Jin Zixuan reads the inky label. It’s boiled seaweed extract condensed into a thin paste. He carefully scoops some into his fingers, marveling at how it slowly melts. Just when he readies himself to prepare his brother, Jin Guangyao stops him with a foot on his arm.
“Don’t. Just cover your little monster. I want to feel every bit of it inside me. I beg you, gege,” he pleads.
There are unspoken words caught between these ones. Jin Zixuan realizes that it’s more than newfound love. It’s a bittersweet farewell to a life long lost. It’s punishment for the guilt he bears. He takes it all, every ounce of his brother’s pain. Their future is one of suffering together, eternally bound in decay.
Jin Zixuan kisses him as he pushes in. He keeps his eyes locked as Jin Guangyao jerks and shudders when he doesn’t stop. He memorizes the trail his tears trace on his skin. He swallows his screams like honeyed wine, drunk in the euphoria of his intoxicating ruse. Bit by bit, he peels away the heart Jin Guangyao has hidden away.
“More, please,” his brother cries, addicted to this touch. He is addicted to his very being.
Jin Zixuan finally catches him staggering by the third round. His hole gapes and puffs when he pulls out. His new self doesn’t feel fatigue, but Jin Guangyao is breathless, and he collapses onto the bed like a boneless stew, well simmered and savored in equal bites. Jin Zixuan coos at him with affectionate endeavors.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
Jin Guangyao lets out an exasperated sigh.
“You’ve ruined me,” he rasps.
Jin Zixuan chuckles and reaches up to tuck away his hair before his ears.
“I’m quite proud of that,” he replies smugly.
Jin Guangyao flicks his wrist. From his abandoned clothes on the floor, Hensheng unravels and slings towards him. It misses Jin Zixuan’s head completely and flies into the wall with a metallic twang, bobbing up and down like a dancing bird thanks to its flexible design.
“Rest. That’s an order from your sect leader,” he says sternly, but they both know there isn’t any real animosity behind it. Jin Guangyao huffs, but bears no complaints against it.
For the first time in a long time, he relaxes and sinks completely into the comfort of deep sleep. With Jin Zixuan around, he doesn’t need to sleep with one eye open tonight. Jin Zixuan takes the time to clean them both up and refresh things a bit. He redresses and clumsily folds robes for his brother to wear once he wakes up. He takes a seat at the window and peers into the night as the moon starts to take over the sky. When Jin Guangyao wakes, they’ll release Wen Qionglin and tell Qin Su the truth. Lanling’s future will be rewritten. Jin Zixuan will finally see his son again.
Whatever else happens from there will be paved by their hands.