PRIDE

                             Dismissing his second-in-command with a slight nod, Jiang Cheng mentally prepares himself for the unavoidable task ( more so a burden, though he plays his part well ) of hospitality. A mask slips into place, expression remaining neutral as he peers down at the newcomer stepping foot into the pavilion.

                             "—Lianfang-Zun," he says by way of greeting. With it comes a bow, simply out of courtesy for the Chief Cultivator. Before them is a small table set with a teapot of boiling water, cups ready to be filled, along with an array of dried lotus leaves, sliced roots, seeds, and flowers for Jin Guangyao to choose from according to his taste. "Have a seat. I believe we have much to discuss before your departure tomorrow."

                             Rather than being accompanied by Wei Wuxian or Yanli, he is surrounded by Gusu's ( surprisingly tame ) rabbits: all white fur and either with black or red eyes. With gentle hands, he picks up the one in his nearest vicinity which just so happens to look like the runt of the litter.

                             "Are you the youngest?" he murmurs. "So am I..."

                             It is no surprise to come across individuals from regions nearby, especially Baling considering the Ouyang Sect is located just beyond the borders of Yunmeng. But to find a junior disciple wandering about without their cohort was all but unheard of. "——Are you waiting for Jin Ling?" he asks the boy gently. "You won't find him here. His arrival home has been delayed."

                              Stumbling upon Gong Haibo wandering around the premises near the Jiang ancestral home has become quite a common occurrence yet, in many ways, they still remain strangers to one another. It is one of the few reasons why Huifeng chooses to step in line with the other as make their way down the small flight of stairs. “——Are you heading home as well?”

                              “You should visit Lotus Pier—” The suggestion tumbles out of his mouth before he even grasps onto the fact that he had been thinking it. Once spoken out loud, he knows words cannot be taken back and another realization hits him in that moment: he doesn’t want to retract the statement in the first place. “One day,” he adds. “Only if you want to.”

                              “Lotus Pier has changed since your last visit,” he says. Even after all these years, Huifeng still finds himself reminding visitors of the fact. The arrangement is generally the same; however, additional structures have been built ( and a few removed ) under guidance of a seasoned draftsman. “——Are you looking for something?”

                              “——Perhaps you should consider retiring for the night?” he asks gently. His tone is unassuming, as if he were leaving it to choice. Despite his ( humble ) opinion that Jiang Wanyin is in desperate need of rest, the truth is that they could both use time off to collect their thoughts to recoup. 

                              Yet, just like Wanyin, Huifeng is too persistent in his own tasks. “Should I fetch us tea or are you in the mood for something stronger?”

☁️  @jiangswanyin​​​ / continued.

notwithstanding the tangible aggravation in jiāng wǎnyín’s words,  lán wàngjī would have to concede there is some semblance of truth in them.  there is no true reason for any ill will between their sects or families,  but between the two men…  that is a different story.

there is a long pause,  lán wàngjī’s lips pursing as a thoughtful gesture faintly paints his mostly void expression.  a second of hesitation is veiled beneath the bleak exterior as he considers whether to voice this thought or not,  well knowing it would likely be futile to bring up at all.   and yet… 

❛ not between sects, ❜    finally he points out as a correction opting for honesty despite how uncomfortable confrontation would turn out — regardless how volatile jiāng wǎnyín might be.    ❛ but between us. ❜

                              “——Us,” he repeats the sentiment out loud as if to mull it over. “Or is it just you?” The thought itself is strange. Over the years, his focus had been anything but entertaining Lan Wangji’s grievances against him: a resentment stemming from perceived wrongdoing. The hearsay ( he is well aware of the gossip mill outside the borders of Yunmeng ) only encourages the grim notion.

                              But Jiang Cheng knows he hasn’t made their recent encounters easy— At least not since his former shixiong’s return and, with it, the reprisal of his own tumultuous emotions regarding the man. His impatience flares every time Lan Wangji sticks his nose into Yungmeng Jiang Sect matters. 

                              Often, he carries himself with an ache in his chest waxing and waning at times but still insufferably constant; and, yet, somehow Jiang Cheng is stunned to find that his heart can break even further into more fragments. Even bits and pieces weigh heavy, ready to burst inside his ribcage at any given moment if it were not for his determination to carry on— A resolution, if not for himself then for others who have come to rely on him.

                              And then there are those who have chosen not to.

                              Inhaling a deep breathe in relieves the pressure building in his chest, albeit temporarily before it surges once again. Jiang Cheng can only gaze down upon the familiar item Wen Qing had gently placed in his hand. The wooden, moon shaped comb he had gifted her now returned back to him is a clear sign of rejection: a declination of his feelings or of his benevolence or, perhaps, both makes his head spin.

                              When he had awoken this morning, he had known this visit would most likely be his last; however, the realization finally hits. Jiang Cheng will not step foot in the Burial Mounds again. For the sake of rebuilding Yunmeng Jiang, he cannot risk his rapport with the remaining great clans.

                              “I see,” he says slowly. Wen Qing is just as stubborn as Jiang Cheng but, rationally, even he knows she cannot righteously abandon the Wen remnants for solely her safety under his protection. He forces himself to look her in the eye one more time in spite of the tears threatening to spill— It feels like a bitter end to an affair that barely had a chance to begin. “I can only wish you well, then.”

                              Tonight, Jiang Cheng allows himself to be tugged along by the hand across Lotus Pier. They tread swiftly but quietly, unbeknownst to the townsfolk—and unbeknownst to his family—who continue to rest deep in slumber. Wei Wuxian had been adamant, catching him at an hour where his hair had been undone right after he had stripped off the elaborate outerwear. He knows Wei Wuxian had chosen a late night rendezvous on purpose but, despite the long day ahead, a smile graces his lips.

                              “——Where are we going?” Jiang Cheng doesn’t care to pull away like he normally would. His heart beats wildly against his chest as they make their way towards their destination. “Wei Wuxian,” he mutters as if feigning displeasure. “Make this worth my time. It’s late!”

                              The nerve of Lan Wangji to approach him suddenly in a cryptic manner with a remark so obscure, as if the cultivator was speaking in riddles. It is a puzzle ( a game ) and Jiang Cheng is familiar enough to know from firsthand experience just how to play. What one would naively take at face value has a more nuanced meaning with hidden undertones— It is a guise for the sake of amiability between the sects.

                              Jiang Cheng is unsure of whether he should be impressed by Lan Wangji’s lukewarm attempt at reconciliation or irritated at the veiled apology that has been long overdue by decades. 

                              “Hanguang-Jun—” When he finally speaks, it is with purpose. He chooses his words just as carefully as the Second Jade of Lan. “—Yunmeng Jiang bears no ill will towards Gusu Lan. It never has.”

                              Annoyance flickers across his face, albeit momentarily. For Wei Wuxian to chase after Jiang Cheng and stride into his private chambers—shoes now carelessly strewn about—as if it were his own personal space instead was to be expected. And, yet, a scoff nearly escapes Jiang Cheng’s lips as his eyes bore into the other in disbelief.

                              “——Wei Wuxian,” he says in exasperation. Somehow he seems to forget just how persistent his shixiong tends to be and, in more times than he cares to admit, just as stubborn as Jiang Cheng himself. Neither can remain still, as if one or the other will eventually break the silence when in each other's presence. “I know you want to talk. If you have something to say, why don’t you just say it?”