#junior disciples

Maybe because he was a clan leader now. Maybe because people had high expectations of him. Maybe they expected an heir, waiting for the Jin Clan to flourish in the future years.

Maybe because everyone wasn't as open out there.

But then he thought of Hanguang-Jun. Chief Cultivator. Popular since he was young. Practically married to a man; the fearsome Yiling Laozu with a notorious history of summoning and controlling the dead; his idiot uncle with a fear of dogs. Jin Ling was aware that some people talked, but Hanguang-Jun was effortlessly intimidating. As for the Yiling Laozu, everyone had witnessed and heard what he was capable of, so of course they had a reason to be wary of him.

Jin Ling? Anger issues, sure. Scary? Not really.

Perhaps he cared too much about his pride and status to let a part of himself taint that image. While he had every reason to not let the Jin Clan crumble, it wasn't fair that it had narrowed down to this form of compromise.

Perhaps he would have been more open if he hadn't been cornered by these responsibilities. More carefree like Lan Jingyi, who had all the time to explore his identity outside of night hunting and poring over whatever rules the Lan sect had concocted. Jingyi, who was always almost completely unbothered by people's opinions of himself, not when they wouldn't have any effect on the people around him. Jin Ling, meanwhile, had a whole clan to lead, for fuck's sake.

How does Hanguang-Jun do it?

His friends were beginning to notice how awfully quiet he had become once they had settled into an inn later on. It wasn't unusual, considering Jin Ling wasn't much of a talker in the first place. But it was probably growing more dense in the air even Lan Jingyi sobered up from his barrage of teasing.

Noticing that Jin Ling was still stabbing his chicken with his chopsticks, Lan Jingyi hung back as their two other friends stood up to head for their booked rooms. "Not coming?" Lan Sizhui asked.

"You all go ahead,” Jin Ling said. “Just finishing my food.”

Lan Sizhui eyed his food; he was far from finished. When the other two averted their gazes at Lan Jingyi, the boy waved them off. "I'll be on my way in a bit," he told them airily.

"Don't bother him, Jingyi,"

"Promise," Jingyi held up three fingers.

"Something you've broken many times," Ouyang Zizhen supplied.

Lan Jingyi made a shooing sound and ushered his two friends upstairs. Later on, he dropped back down on his seat with an uncharacteristic grim expression. Crossing his arms, the boy propped his chin on his fist and stared intently at Jin Ling, as though he was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

Jin Ling scowled. "The fuck are you doing?"

"I'm thinking of a way to communicate with you,"

"Well, you're bothering me," he stabbed another piece of chicken from his bowl. By now, there were multiple puncture marks all over it.

"How's this," Lan Jingyi shifted in his seat and pulled the bowl towards himself, "you stop murdering your dinner and tell me what any of us did to make you go all broody today."

"I'm not broody!"

"Fine. Did any of us do something?"

"No,"

"You sure?"

"Seriously, Jingyi—"

"Okay, okay, just checking," Jingyi held up his hands. "Promised Sizhui I wouldn't bother you. But you know you can tell us anything right? I noticed you always grow quiet at times like this."

Jin Ling cast him a hesitant look. "Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, Zizhen's failed attempt at romance?" he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Wait, hold up – I get it!"

Jin Ling slowly looked up, trepidation beginning to trickle in. "What."

"You're jealous!"

The contents of his stomach almost spilled back out until Jingyi proceeded, "You want to write those girls poems too! But you're bad at poetry!"

Jin Ling’s face flushed with a wave of indignance. "Who says I'm bad at poetry?"

"So you do take a fancy on those young ladies!"

By now, Jin Ling’s ears heated up, "I do not!"

"You know, they say denial is a pathway to revela—"

"I'm not into women!"

Now this revelation took both of them by surprise – if Lan Jingyi’s abrupt silence served any indication. Jin Ling was pretty sure everyone had stopped to look at him, pretty sure time had frozen. Before him, his friend blinked once, seeming too slow to grasp the message.

And fuck what did he just say? What did I just do?

So they both waited, as though someone else might flash a cue card on what to say next.