#Now that I have one LQR-gets-the-children-he-deserves fic done....I think I'd better work on the og one lol

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Why Not Me?

Chapter 7 (Epilogue)

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Ch. 5] [Ch. 6]

[[Y'all this entire fic without the epilogue is just under 20k. This epilogue is juuust shy of 7k. It's over a third of the entire fic 😂. But anyway -- Here it is, the epilogue, in which LQR and LJY get to hug it out a few times (and we catch up to canon time, to the interactions that inspired it all) Enjoy!]]

--//--

-9-

“ZEWU-JUN!!!!!”

Jingyi’s shout skitters off the rocks in the pretty white gardens and the buildings ahead of him, propelled by his powerful lungs and the racing of his feet as he tears through Cloud Recesses like a wild mountain wind. Scandalized teachers and disciples alike call after him to stop running and shouting, but Jingyi doesn’t care one bit what they think, not right now.

“Zewu-jun!!” Jingyi shouts again at a volume that maybe won’t wake the ancestors when he’s closer to the Sect Leader’s office, but he’s thankfully still loud enough that he sees the man in question step out onto the porch to meet him before he’s even reached the border of his courtyard.

“Jingyi, hush,” Zewu-jun cautions, though without much conviction in his always-soft voice. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

Jingyi skids to a stop at the base of the few stairs that lead up to the porch and he bends double to brace his hands on his shaking knees to try to suck in deep breaths and recover what he hadn’t drawn in while he’d been running pell-mell through every shortcut he knows — and he knows a lot of them.

“Lan-xiansheng is hurt!” he manages to cough after a few breaths and Zewu-jun hurries (politely) down the steps to take him by the arm and help him stand upright.

“How is Shufu hurt?” his cousin asks, quick and quiet. Jingyi turns at the sound of scuffling behind him to find that his headlong flight has garnered them an audience. He hurries to wave Zewu-jun down to his level so he can talk quietly in his ear, and Zewu-jun obliges him immediately.

“Lan-xiansheng didn’t wake up on time this morning so I made him breakfast but when I woke him up to eat it he got sick and then coughed up a bunch of stale blood and then he told me to come find you and then he passed out and you have to come and help him, please Zewu-jun!”

Jingyi is half-expecting Zewu-jun to brush him off like all the other adults in the Sect do (except for Lan-xiansheng and Hanguang-jun, of course), but thankfully Zewu-jun seems to know he isn’t telling a tall tale just for attention. Jingyi’s definitely too big for it now but Zewu-jun still bends down to sweep him up onto his hip, and Jingyi isn’t even embarrassed to be carried like a baby because Zewu-jun can walk as fast as Jingyi can run without making it look like running, so he clings tight and tries to stop shaking as Zewu-jun carries him back through the disturbance Jingyi had left in his wake.

They arrive at the Yashi quickly and Zewu-jun sets him down again just inside the door that Jingyi hurries to close against the curious eyes of the rest of the Sect while Zewu-jun hurries further inside the house.

“Shufu?” Jingyi hears him ask, low and urgent, and he breathes a tiny sigh of relief at the responding rumble from Lan-xiansheng, too quiet for him to pick out the individual words. He has too much nervous energy in his hands for even his well-worn rock to contend with, so Jingyi busies himself with making tea and stirring up the morning’s congee to make sure it isn’t getting all burnt and gross on the bottom of the wok.

When the tea is steeped and the congee stirred he cleans up the mess he’d made while preparing breakfast and stirs the congee again a few more times for good measure…and Zewu-jun still hasn’t come back from the bedroom Jingyi shares with Lan-xiansheng. He doesn’t want to interrupt in case it would be bad, but he can’t stand another second not knowing what’s happening so he creeps on tiptoe to the door to peek cautiously around the frame and look through the gloom to try to see what’s happening.

Between Zewu-jun and Lan-xiansheng there glows a thin thread of qi, pure blue and glinting like a mountain stream at noon, tossing strange shadows on the walls beside and behind Lan-xiansheng’s bed. Jingyi drifts a little closer, still on tiptoe, to try to see what’s happening, and between one flickering blink and the next he’s able to make out the shape of Lan-xiansheng on his back and Zewu-jun’s first two fingers pointed at the center of his forehead where the cloud emblem of his ribbon would be sitting had Lan-xiansheng had the strength to get dressed this morning. Jingyi watches the transfer of qi with bated breath, holding still with a monumental effort as if the efficacy of the healing is completely dependent on how quiet and small he can keep himself.

It goes on for a long time, long enough that Jingyi’s fingers begin twitching on his sleeves and his knees feel like a wobbly jelly from his favorite dessert stall in Caiyi from how tightly he’s been keeping them locked to stay still. But finally, just when he’s about to break, the room goes dim again and Zewu-jun sighs as he pulls his hand away, no longer feeding Lan-xiansheng a stream of his qi.

“You are overextending yourself again, Shufu,” Zewu-jun says quietly, even though Lan-xiansheng looks like he’s gone back to sleep.

“It is hardly anything to be so fretful over,” Lan-xiansheng grumps in the same tone he uses when he knows Jingyi is right about one of his ethics puzzles but it isn’t the nice orthodox answer Lan-xiansheng likes. “I taught the talisman classes yesterday and activated a few too many, that’s all.”

Zewu-jun’s voice is nearly inaudible as he replies, “You frightened Jingyi, Shufu. He doesn’t know what sorts of injuries are fatal yet, he may be…overly worried.”

“Well it’s not fatal,” Lan-xiansheng snaps, still grumpy. “I’ll just need to rest today and I will be fine by tomorrow, I said there’s no need for so much fuss!”

Jingyi forces his jelly knees to bend so he can creep back out of the room before he gets caught eavesdropping. Now that Zewu-jun has said it, Jingyi realizes he is scared, and he should probably do something about that before he has to hide it while he brings Lan-xiansheng breakfast again. He digs around in the hollows around the hearth until he can fish out their big sack of rice and tuck himself small and round in the space it fits in, the stone pressed against his back toasty warm from the fire. Jingyi huddles into a ball there in his new hiding place and hugs his knees tightly to his chest, tight-tight-tight until his arms shake and his joints ache and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to fly apart into a million little pieces like he’s heard fierce corpses do when Hanguang-jun plays his guqin at them.

What if Lan-xiansheng isn’t really okay? What if his health is getting really bad? What if he’s going to die and leave Jingyi alone again, like his parents? What if he has to go back to the children’s home to live? What if he doesn’t get to have special classes and a family and a purpose anymore, what if he has to go back to being just a regular disciple with no one to want him around? Hanguang-jun leaves often for night hunts, and Sizhui lives in the disciple dormitories now whenever his dad is gone. Jingyi supposes he could probably try to live in the dormitories too, but Lan-xiansheng has said he doesn’t want him to, he said it wouldn’t be the right place for him because they wouldn’t understand him and the ways he has to live noisily. Would that be worse or better than the children’s home? But there’s no doubt that both of them would be horrible because it would mean Lan-xiansheng is gone, and Jingyi doesn’t want that to happen ever. He wants to keep living with Lan-xiansheng and helping him with all his work and being allowed to be noisy and run around when they’re at home and he wants his life to keep going exactly how it is, with Lan-xiansheng looking after him so Jingyi can look after him, too.

But what if it all just…ends?

“Shhh, Jingyi, it’s alright,” Zewu-jun suddenly murmurs from close by, and Jingyi hiccups around his next ragged breath. “Don’t be afraid, Shufu’s going to be fine. Do you need to stay in there a little longer, or would you like to come out?”

Jingyi squeezes his arms tight-tight-tighter and buries his face in his knobby knees, tilting sideways away from Zewu-jun until the back wall of the cubby-hole is pressed up against his side. He tries to push himself harder against it with his feet but they scuff against the floor and don’t help much at all, so he tries it again with a frustrated little huff that turns into a whine when the scuffing just happens again.

“It’s alright, Jingyi,” Zewu-jun repeats but that’s a lie because it’s not alright! Jingyi opens his mouth to tell him so, Sect Leader or not, but then big warm hands are pressing against his shoulder and knee to hold him stuck firmly in place against the stone, so tight it feels like he’s being squished under a boulder. Jingyi lets some of the tension in his arms go and Zewu-jun still holds him right there, pressed up against the wall so Jingyi can relax and lean his head against it too, suddenly exhausted as if he’d run laps around the base of the whole mountain instead of only through the main part of Cloud Recesses.

“Can you hear me now or is your mind still too loud?” Zewu-jun asks after a few long minutes of silence except for Jingyi’s breathing slowing down and the occasional ruffle of silk against stone when he or Zewu-jun readjust a little bit.

Jingyi pouts into his knees, but he gives his honest answer anyway. “I can hear.”

“Thank you, Jingyi. Shufu is only tired, he isn’t sick, or hurt. He was hurt some years ago when the Cloud Recesses was attacked, and sometimes his old injury takes up all his energy when he tries to do too many things in one day.” Zewu-jun’s explanation is patient and soft, and as he continues to hold Jingyi smushed up against the wall Jingyi finds that the information is…good. That it helps him to relax a little more. “He will not die from it, Jingyi, I promise you. No matter how tired he gets, no matter how ill he feels, this injury will not take him away from us. Can you repeat that for me?”

“Lan-xiansheng was hurt by the Wens when they burned Cloud Recesses. He feels worse when he’s used up too much energy. He won’t die.”

“Good. Shufu is a very strong cultivator. Everything will be alright so long as we make sure he looks after himself well to keep up that strength. Can you keep helping me do that?”

Jingyi sucks in a deep breath and lets it all back out with a big whoosh that takes all the tension in his muscles with it. “Yes, Zewu-jun,” he promises, and when he wriggles a little bit against his Sect Leader’s hold, beginning to feel cramped, Zewu-jun releases him easily and helps pull him back out of his hiding spot. Zewu-jun is kneeling right there in their kitchen, on eye-level with Jingyi, and so Jingyi can see it perfectly when Zewu-jun offers him a gentle smile as he pats the side of his head, careful to avoid his ribbon.

“You’re a good boy, Jingyi,” Zewu-jun tells him. “I was worried at first that Shufu would get too tired looking after you, but do you want to know a secret? It’s a good one, I promise.”

Jingyi nods, though perhaps a little reluctantly. (He still doesn’t like hearing that Zewu-jun thought he wouldn’t be good for Lan-xiansheng to keep around, which he privately thinks is fair.)

“Shufu’s health has been much better since he brought you home, I think raising you is a very good thing for him. Hanguang-jun and I are quite relieved and happy that he has you. Thank you, Jingyi.”

Jingyi’s tight chest sparks with the same joy he still finds in being useful to Lan-xiansheng, in carrying out his chores well and helping Lan-xiansheng with all his paperwork and meetings in between their cultivation lessons. He stands up a little straighter, feels a little better, and Zewu-jun smiles at him in the same gentle way Hanguang-jun does (only he does it with his mouth too, and not just his eyes).

“The congee is still warm,” Jingyi says. “But the tea is probably gross now.”

“Mm, I see. Shufu can have water with his congee, then. Will you take it to him?”

A task. A set task, one he can for sure accomplish without a problem. Jingyi relaxes further, relieved, and hurries to nod and scoop up some congee into a small wooden bowl, only realizing belatedly that it’s one of his and not one of Lan-xiansheng’s nice ceramic bowls like he always uses. Oh well, maybe wooden bowls are better for eating in bed anyway.

“Lan-xiansheng?” he calls from the doorway, as soft as he can make his voice (he’s getting pretty good at it!).

Lan-xiansheng’s voice is still rough around the edges, but it’s a relief to hear him call back an exhausted, “Come in, Jingyi.”

“I have congee and —“ Jingyi cuts himself off, guilty, and half-turns as if to head back to the kitchen only to find Zewu-jun already waiting behind him with a cup of water and that nice smile still on his face. He holds a finger up to his lips to shush him and winks before he hands the cup to Jingyi, so he doesn’t have to admit that he forgot something important. “I have congee and water,” he says to Lan-xiansheng and shoots a grateful look at Zewu-jun over his shoulder.

“Hmph. Filial child,” Lan-xiansheng huffs as he does anytime Jingyi makes it a point to take extra good care of him. He always sounds grumpy when he says it, but there’s always a little smile hiding under his mustache so that’s okay. “Bring it here, then.”

Jingyi makes his way carefully across the room to offer Lan-xiansheng his breakfast, and when the man takes the dishes off his hands Jingyi simply climbs up to sit on the edge of his bed and wait, kicking his feet a little and trying not to yawn. He always gets sleepy after he has to be small and tight for a while, but usually he can ignore it if he goes to do something outside after.

“You should not have run and shouted for Xichen like you did, Jingyi,” Lan-xiansheng admonishes when he’s finished and Jingyi has carefully taken the dishes back, the jade cup tucked safely inside the sturdier wood bowl. Jingyi grips the bowl a little tighter and shakes his head with a stubborn clench in his jaw.

“Lan-xiansheng’s health was in danger, I needed Zewu-jun’s help.”

“His help could have been requested at an appropriate volume.”

Jingyi’s jaw pops from how hard he’s biting down a big shivery feeling in his chest, and because Lan-xiansheng sees everything of course he notices.

“Jingyi?”

“I was scared,” he admits, ducking his head and using the hand Lan-xiansheng can’t see to swipe at his suddenly-damp cheek. He still cries just as easily as he had before he got his family, which is embarrassing, but they never say anything mean about it so it’s not too bad. “I yelled and ran because I was scared.”

“Ah, I see,” Lan-xiansheng hums. Jingyi swipes at his cheek again before he sits up straight and tries to begin hopping down from the bed to take the dishes back to be scrubbed — but then strong arms are wrapping around him and Jingyi melts into the embrace immediately.

Lan-xiansheng isn’t much for hugging. Hanguang-jun is, he hugs Jingyi a lot, but Zewu-jun and Lan-xiansheng don’t ever really hug him, and he’s noticed they don’t hug Hanguang-jun or Lan Yuan all that much either. But Lan-xiansheng is hugging him now, just as warm as the hearthstone and a little tighter than even Zewu-jun had pressed him against the wall to help him get through his panic, and without thinking Jingyi drops the bowl and cup with a clatter to hug Lan-xiansheng back just as fiercely.

“Please don’t die,” he whispers into Lan-xiansheng’s shoulder. His heart shies away from just saying it aloud, like maybe if he says it right to Lan-xiansheng it’ll actually happen. But before he can really get himself worked up, Lan-xiansheng presses a hand tight to the back of his head and shakes his own head enough for Jingyi to feel it.

“I will not die, Jingyi. I promised I would raise you. Are you grown yet?”

Jingyi laughs a little wetly around a big sniffle. “No, Lan-xiansheng.”

“Mm. Silly child.”

“Can you stay even when I’m grown though?” he has to ask, his voice small and nervous where he’s still hiding in Lan-xiansheng’s shoulder. If Lan-xiansheng has to die when Jingyi grows up then he’ll just have to find a way to stay a kid forever, it’s flawless logic.

Lan-xiansheng pauses for a long moment before he gives Jingyi an extra-hard squeeze and then pushes him away enough to look him in the eyes. “I will live for as long as I can.  You may be…60 years old and still be a silly child. Will you be grown, then? Will you stop needing me then?”

Jingyi laughs again, stronger this time, and shakes his head ‘no’.

“Correct. I need to rest now — you may have a rest in your bed as well if you need to, we will not be doing work today.”

Jingyi, thus reassured of both Lan-xiansheng’s longevity and permission to nap through the exhaustion of one of his own episodes, hurries to return the dishes to the now-empty kitchen so he can lay down for his nap, the fear from the morning all but gone in the wake of getting a hug from Lan-xiansheng.

--//--

-15(.5)-

“Yangfu!” Jingyi hollers as he slams the door to the Yashi open with a clatter. “I’m home!”

“Child, how many times must I remind you that I can hear you coming from a li away? You do not need to shout that you have arrived.”

“Sorry,” Jingyi grins, not sorry at all. As expected, Lan-xiansheng waves a wooden spoon at him with a vague noise of irritation and nothing more — he’s long since stopped reminding Jingyi of any of the several rules pertaining to lying and careless speech that render his ‘apology’ worthy of reprimand.

“Go wash,” is all he says instead, so Jingyi salutes him deeply just to tweak his tail again before he hurries to set his sword aside and head out into the back garden for a perfunctory wash in the rain barrel. The weather is turning cool so he’s not too dirty from sword practice, which means he’s quick enough to wash and change into fresh clothes before he returns to the kitchen to strategically make himself too much of a nuisance for Lan-xiansheng to be willing to share the hearth with him. Jingyi cheerfully takes over the making of their dinner when Lan-xiansheng retreats with irritated grumbling about filial piety and pointy teenage elbows — a familiar background music to Jingyi’s evening routine.

“Yangfu,” Jingyi pipes up after they’ve finished eating in their usual silence and he’s chattered at Lan-xiansheng about his afternoon of training through the process of washing up and brewing tea that always follows. Lan-xiansheng barely glances up from the painting he’s carefully contemplating the next addition to at his call.

“Hm?”

“Did da-shixiong come to talk to you this afternoon?”

“He did.”

Jingyi fidgets from foot to foot before huffing in (fond) exasperation. Lan-xiansheng ignores him, of course, and continues to sip at his tea and study his own in-progress painting like the possibility of Jingyi beginning to join his peers on nighthunts isn’t being dangled in front of Jingyi’s eyes like a fish flailing on a line.

“Can I go?” he finally breaks enough to ask, flopping down into a…sort of correct kneel in front of the table. Lan-xiansheng holds his ink-loaded brush well away from the clattering table with the ease of many years of practice navigating a space with Jingyi’s clumsiness.

“If your da-shixiong has not seen fit to inform you —“

“Yangfu!”

Lan-xiansheng sniffs and finally looks up from his painting to level an acerbic glare at him from under truly impressive angry brows. (He can’t fool Jingyi though, he’s doing this on purpose just for the fun of teasing him.)

“Do not interrupt me, child, I’ve had enough of that in my meetings this afternoon. If your da-shixiong has not seen fit to inform you of your first assignment then why should I rob him of the headache?”

Jingyi grins wide enough to split his face and gamely gives Lan-xiansheng enough time to set his brush down and cover his ears with a pointed look before he lets out a noisy whoop and hops up to go run a couple laps around the back garden to burn off the sudden burst of energy.

“Wash again before you come inside if you’re going to be so energetic!” Lan-xiansheng’s sharp bark makes Jingyi laugh, and when he finishes a few more laps (cartwheels, to tire himself out as much as he can) he obligingly heads back to the barrel to dunk his head in the cool water, if for no other reason than to see the poorly-disguised distaste on Lan-xiansheng’s face when he tromps back in dripping water on the floor from the ends of his hair.

“Incorrigible boy,” Lan-xiansheng huffs. “Come sit, I know you won’t remember to comb your hair and I refuse to look at a bird’s nest on your head tomorrow. We have to go down to Caiyi for business in the morning, you should be presentable.”

Jingyi grins, fetches his usual oil and his comb, and finally feels his energy settle enough that he only fidgets a little once he’s sat at the table and Lan-xiansheng is kneeling behind him to comb his hair out with methodical movements.

“Thank you, Yangfu,” Jingyi murmurs when the motion of the comb in his hair has settled him further.

Lan-xiansheng sniffs in a way that could either be dismissive or a show of emotion (Jingyi will choose to believe it’s the latter). “It’s past time you went out on hunts. The other boys your age already do, and you are ahead of most of them in your cultivation.”

“Aiyah,” Jingyi tuts with a smirk. “Arrogance is forbidden! Do not flatter! Hey–!”

“Do not use the precepts for levity with me, Yi-er, it is disrespectful,” Lan-xiansheng scolds while Jingyi rubs at the spot on his scalp Lan-xiansheng had just swatted. “It is not arrogance or flattery to state what is fact. Your cultivation is highly ranked amongst your peers, they should take you for an example in their learning on night hunts.”

Jingyi smiles, practically glowing with happiness from such blatant praise, and settles down obediently for the rest of the de-tangling process.

“You will be careful on your hunt,” Lan-xiansheng says eventually, as serious as always. “You will listen closely to your seniors and obey them, should their instruction be correct. If it is not, you will go through the proper authority to see it corrected, you will not take matters into your own hands to reprimand them yourself. You will only attend group hunts supervised by Wangji until you have proven yourself capable of behaving well enough for the other supervising cultivators that they understand you are not intentionally disobedient. You will not risk your life, and you will not encourage or support others in doing so, either.”

Jingyi nods vigorously enough that Lan-xiansheng puts his free hand on top of his head to stop him from yanking at the comb the man is still running through his hair.

“What scenario have I not considered?”

Jingyi screws up his face for a moment to run back through the list of instructions. Lan-xiansheng has gotten really good over the years at learning how to give him thorough enough lists of instructions that most circumstances are typically accounted for, but Jingyi is nothing if not creative in circumventing any rule he can, even when he doesn’t mean to be.

“What if a mundane person is in life-threatening trouble and I’m the only one who can help them but it’s really dangerous?”

Lan-xiansheng swats at his head again, more gently this time. “You will not be going on such dangerous hunts, and you will not be tasked with protecting civilians directly. It will be your task to shadow your seniors and do as directed, and to learn all you can from observing their work. You are not to endanger yourself, Jingyi. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Yangfu. I won’t endanger myself.”

“Good.”

Jingyi stays still as Lan-xiansheng finishes combing his hair and braids it for sleep, tucking the ends of his ribbon neatly into the braid to keep it safe. (Most of the time if he takes it off at night he forgets to put it on again in the morning, it’s easiest to just sleep in it.)

Jingyi returns his comb and oil where they belong and settles in across from Lan-xiansheng at the table to work on a bit of lure talisman research he’s interested in, the silence comfortable and peaceful at the end of a day. When the sandalwood incense burning in the brazier switches to jasmine, informing them of the start of hai shi, they set aside their individual pursuits and begin to prepare for bed. Jingyi is about to slip into his own bedroom — an addition to the house Lan-xiansheng commissioned to be built for him some years ago — when a hand around his wrist stops him.

For all the growth spurts Jingyi has gone through in the last few years, Lan-xiansheng still stands a few cuns taller than him. He looks every bit of it now, his gaze stern as Jingyi turns to look up at him, curious. “Yangfu?”

“I will not stop you from night hunting,” he says with apparent difficulty. “It is your right and your duty as a cultivator capable of helping to do so.” Jingyi stays quiet as Lan-xiansheng visibly chews on his next words before he manages to get them out. “You are..vitally important to me. Promise me you will be careful.”

Jingyi — suddenly feeling quite a bit younger than his 15 and a half years — surges forward to hug Lan-xiansheng tightly around the middle and hide his face in his chest. Lan-xiansheng still isn’t much of a hugger, but for now he indulges Jingyi enough to wrap his arms around his shoulders and hold on tight.

“I’ll be careful, Yangfu,” Jingyi promises into soft white silk, feeling wonderfully comfortable. “I won’t take risks. I’ll listen to my seniors. Hanguang-jun will keep us all safe, and I swear I’ll behave and follow all the rules.”

Lan-xiansheng is too slow to stop his disbelieving snort at that, so Jingyi grins and squeezes him tighter to irritate his adoptive father for daring to doubt him.

“Follow what rules you can,” Lan-xiansheng sighs, long-suffering, and pats his back a few times to signal him to let go. “And come back in one piece.”

That much, at least, he can do. He says as much and wishes Lan-xiansheng goodnight before they retreat back to their individual rooms. He settles in for bed with a smile and a shake of his head, unable to sleep for hours with the excitement of his first nighthunt humming under his skin.

--//--

-17-

In the two years since Jingyi started joining his agemates on nighthunts (when his other duties allow), he’s seen his fair share of wild and unbelievable things. The world is wide and the Lan disciples travel far, following the example set for them by (and usually under the direct leadership of) Hanguang-jun. He’d known even on that very first hunt that they wouldn’t always be so easy, that he wouldn’t always get to follow his favorite seniors around doing little more than holding their spare qiankun pouches for them and shouting about how cool they are at opportune moments in battle. That being said, he still thinks that it’s a little excessive that only two years later he’s progressed all the way up to getting kidnapped and thrown in a cave in the Burial Mounds with a bunch of other juniors who don’t have any better ideas than he does as to how they’re going to get the fuck out of here.

“If you ask me, you shouldn’t have just stabbed him once. Why didn’t you slice his throat?”

Ugh — not only kidnapped and thrown into the Burial Mounds. Kidnapped, thrown into the Burial Mounds, and tied to Jin Chan. Truly a low point in his life, Jingyi has to admit, and something he will decidedly not be putting into his reports of this nighthunt if they make it out of here (though he will likely complain about it to Lan-xiansheng in the privacy of their own home. Their home which he will definitely see again, he promised to be careful and come back in one piece, like he always does).

“It’s been a few days since they left us here,” Jingyi says, mostly to distract himself from the prospect of breaking such an important promise. “What do they want to do? To beat us or kill us…at least make it fast.” Jokes? Jokes. Jokes about death are a solid way to make it funny and not at all a very real possibility. He can make jokes about anything until he’s blue in the face, this is fine. “I’d rather be bitten to death by a monster while hunting than starve to death in this shithole.”

Jingyi can’t even find it in himself to feel bad that no one laughs. He’s not really laughing either, after all.

“What else would they want?” Jin Chan retorts into the despondent silence. “It must be like back in Nightless City, he wants to make us into fierce corpses and use us to fight our families!..”

Jingyi sighs and tunes out whatever other drivel about Wei-qianbei is coming out of Jin Chan’s mouth, and barely pays attention to whatever Jin Ling snaps back at him as if they aren’t always at each other’s throats anyway. He tunes back in enough to hear Sizhui trying to calm them down but he doesn’t bother trying to help his best friend — he at least knows a hopeless cause when he sees one. Or is tied to one, as the case may be, which becomes ridiculously annoying when Jin Chan starts struggling at their ropes to try to get at Jin Ling.

His irritation at his companions is a decent enough distraction from the morbid direction his thoughts had been trying to head in, at least — and then it hardly matters because someone’s calling to them from the entry to the cave and when Jingyi cranes around to look towards the familiar voice he can’t help but grin and relax in relief.

“Hanguang-jun!” Jingyi’s call comes right on the heels of Sizhui’s. It’s a simple fact of life that so long as Hanguang-jun is here then everything will be fine, and between one breath and the next he doesn’t doubt for a moment that he’ll make it home to Lan-xiansheng after all (though he will admit that being approached by the Ghost General wielding a sword comes really close to making him doubt it all over again in the moments before he’s cut free).

As is proper, he and Sizhui are the first to hurry up and greet Hanguang-jun, who studies them both closely as Sizhui greets Wei-qianbei and reaffirms for everyone present that their whole kidnapping and attempted murder predicament is not his fault. Jingyi doesn’t really care whose fault it is, if he’s being honest, he mostly just wants to go home and maybe spend a couple weeks (at least) doing nothing but helping Lan-xiansheng with his mountains of paperwork and badmouthing the Sect Leaders he doesn’t like since Lan-xiansheng can’t say any of it himself. Not that he doesn’t like nighthunting, and not that he doesn’t enjoy going out on adventures with Sizhui and Hanguang-jun, but this is maybe enough excitement for a while.

In the interest of washing his hands of the situation, Jingyi tells Hanguang-jun and Wei-qianbei what he knows about their captors and the fierce corpses outside (which is really very little). Hanguang-jun’s soft, “You did well,” makes him feel just as incredible as ever, even having to share the praise equally with Sizhui. He preens just a bit under it, smirking and sharing a look with Sizhui that his best friend returns with all the natural good grace that Jingyi always seems to lack. They’re so close to being able to go home he can almost feel the cool mist of Cloud Recesses on his face instead of the dry stale wind of the Burial Mounds.

Hanguang-jun’s attention suddenly darts over Jingyi’s shoulder and he shifts his weight to step in front of Wei-qianbei. When Jingyi mirrors him, ready in a heartbeat to follow Hanguang-jun’s signal, he scowls to see Jin Ling stepping forward with his usual sour expression on his face.

“What, are you going to stab him again?” he demands, ignoring Sizhui’s gently admonishing call of his name. They’re all thinking it anyway or else they wouldn’t be stepping forward to protect Wei-qianbei from him, so that means it’s only rude to say, not actually against any rules. (It’s not gossip, everyone knows Jin Ling stabbed Wei-qianbei at Jinlintai, and it’s not a lie because it’s a question, so there.)

“Aiyah, don’t surround him like that. Enough,” Wei-qianbei chides. “We’ll talk outside.”

Jingyi has to fight hard to keep from rolling his eyes when everyone else simply fidgets and makes no move to head for the doors like he’s itching to do. “What?” he calls to the room at large. “Still want to stay here?”

“There are so many fierce corpses outside. You want us to go out there and die?” Jingyi does roll his eyes at that, but since it’s Jin Chan who said it he’s probably not the only one doing so.

The Ghost General offers to keep the fierce corpses outside at bay, and Sizhui comes up with a much more eloquent argument than Jingyi’s badgering, and finally they’re all moving to head out, Jingyi’s practically thrumming with an electric buzz to get his sword under his feet and go home —

Or else the buzzing is actually the crackle of the Zidian whip, considering it throws the Ghost General back into the cave before the rest of them can even step foot outside. And where there’s the lightning whip, there’s —

“Jin Ling!” Sandu Shengshou shouts from outside the massive doors to the cave, and Jingyi feels everyone’s mood lift at the idea of help arriving that isn’t Wei-qianbei and the Ghost General (Jingyi, personally, thinks that they have no right to be picky since Hanguang-jun is also here, but maybe that’s just him [and probably Sizhui too]).

Ouyang Zizhen calls out to his dad next, and Jingyi’s heart actually does a little leap because if that old windbag Ouyang-zongzhu is here as well as the young ones like Sandu Shengshou then, maybe —

Jingyi falls into step quickly behind Hanguang-jun to file outside and yes, there, through the trees — Lan-xiansheng. Jingyi barely keeps from hopping out of line to run to him, and only manages it because Hanguang-jun hurries to lead them over so they can salute and fall in line properly the moment it’s possible. Jingyi takes up his spot close behind Lan-xiansheng’s left shoulder with immense relief that nearly makes his knees buckle. The only person he’s happier to see than Hanguang-jun is his adoptive father, and a few minutes later when Lan-xiansheng steps close enough amongst all the shouting and clamoring for Wei-qianbei to apologize (or whatever it is the rest of the world is demanding of him), Jingyi latches his fingers into the trailing end of Lan-xiansheng’s sleeve gratefully to give it a little tug in greeting.

Jingyi has a very definite purpose in this life, and that’s to take care of Lan-xiansheng with all the energy he has. The man took him in, raised him, taught him, sheltered him from the criticisms of the extreme traditionalists in the Sect, amongst whom Jingyi knows Lan-xiansheng was once counted. His job, then, is to be the most filial ward he can be, and so when a wicked trick costs everyone their spiritual energy the moment they begin fighting off the next wave of fierce corpses, Jingyi immediately lets Lan-xiansheng lean on him to hurry into the protection of the cave. He shouts down Su She and his stupid fucking joke of a Sect copying theirs because he knows Lan-xiansheng can’t say it himself, but won’t stop Jingyi from saying what everyone knows to be true, even if it’s ‘rude’. When all the talking and standing around comes to an end and Wei-qianbei makes himself into a lure for the fierce corpses, Jingyi knows that Hanguang-jun can rest easy helping him fight them off because he’s helping Lan-xiansheng down the path and away from danger.

And when all is said and done, when they’ve arrived at Lotus Pier to recover from their ordeal, and the events of the evening have unfolded in shocking ways but everyone is too exhausted to run after Jin Guangyao tonight, Jingyi settles into a guest room deep in the warrens of Lotus Pier with Lan-xiansheng to let the man fuss and grumble over him to his heart’s content. Jingyi half-listens and passes him a steady thread of qi like he’d seen Zewu-Jun do almost a decade ago, his own energy now more than strong enough to support Lan-xiansheng’s recovery efforts whenever necessary.

“I told you not to get in trouble,” Lan-xiansheng grouses, clearly unhappy to be laid up with his old injuries through no fault of his own. “I told you to stay on the safe roads and to stay with Sizhui at all times and to use your signal flares if you needed help —”

“Aiyah, Yangfu! Enough,” Jingyi admonishes with a little jiggle of Lan-xiansheng’s wrist in his grip where he’s monitoring the balance of his qi. “I was with Sizhui, we both got caught! Everyone did. Are you going to blame me for getting the juniors of so many Sects kidnapped when we were plotted against and meant to be used as bait?”

“Yes,” Lan-xiansheng snaps. “You’re different than they are, you’re not supposed to get caught up in these sorts of things. You’re my son!”

Jingyi’s breath hitches in his chest and he has to stop the stream of qi to Lan-xiansheng as his energy bobbles in response to the depth of the emotion boiling in his chest at such a pronouncement. Lan-xiansheng has let him call him ‘Yangfu’ without complaint since he started doing it when he was 11 and had just learnt what it meant, and that had been plenty, that had been great. Lan-xiansheng has always indulged him and shown him he loves him in the stuffy quiet ways all good Lans do (with the exceptions of his rare and treasured embraces). But this, right now, is the first time Lan-xiansheng has ever called him his son.

“Ha-Hanguang-jun,” he says around the tightness in his throat, “Zewu-jun..they’re…”

“Jingyi,” Lan-xiansheng interrupts, not unkindly. He strains to sit up straight again and Jingyi lunges forward to help him, conscious of how exhausted Lan-xiansheng is after his qi is depleted and his injury allowed to flare up in its absence. “Your cousins know that I care for them, but it has always been…complicated. They belong to the Sect, and to the world, because they must. They are their father’s sons, and they will never escape that entirely. Out of the three children I have raised, only you could ever truly be mine.”

Jingyi’s next inhale hiccups in his chest — it’s been a while since he cried as easily as he used to, but he doesn’t think that Lan-xiansheng calling him his son is something he’s supposed to take as stoically as most people would expect him to.

“I was so afraid, Yangfu,” he hiccups and darts in to wrap his arms around Lan-xiansheng’s middle so tightly it must be a bit uncomfortable, but Lan-xiansheng doesn’t protest. “I just wanted to go home and see you.”

“Well you’ve seen me now, and we can leave for home tomorrow. Leave this mess to the others, we’ve got enough work to do in Gusu. Alright?”

Jingyi nods and Lan-xiansheng’s hand resting on the back of his head moves with him, as solid and comforting as it had been that very first time when he was still so lonely and afraid, so certain that no one in the world would ever truly want him. But now he’s Lan-xiansheng’s son. His Yangfu loves him as his own, worries for him when he’s in trouble, accepts his help without complaint when he needs it. Jingyi burrows into his shoulder a little tighter and imagines standing in front of himself as a child just so he can look himself in the eyes and promise that it all gets better in the end.