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Jiang Cheng wasn’t the sort of person who would give much thought to the matter of death and afterlife. So when he opened his eyes again and was met with emptiness, he didn't immediately understand. It took a moment for him to remember that ah yes, he was dead.
His latest memory came to him second: a yao’s vicious claw that they had been hunting for the better part of the night piercing right through his heart, body moving almost instinctively to take the hit meant for someone else, his name torn out of someone’s throat like a broken sob. The stab had been clean and true -- he didn’t really feel anything until frantic hands pulled his body back and he collapsed to the ground. And Jiang Cheng knew, as soon as he was aware his heart had been cleaved into two, that there wouldn’t be enough time and power in the whole world that could stop life from being drained out of him.
Jiang Cheng was dying, a surety, and he felt strangely alright with that.
All around him were shrieking voices, half-crazed, and pure chaos -- Jiang Cheng didn’t give a damn about any of them, not with this blinding pain raking at his body from the center of his chest to the very tips of his toes.
Something wet trickled down his cheeks. He looked up with bleary eyes to find someone crying and vaguely thought, bemused, that it was him who usually do all the crying. He cried for a lot of things and for a lot of people and now Jiang Cheng found he had no tears left to cry for himself.
As he was cradled in someone else’s arms, familiar faces that had become unbearably foreign crowded his vision. Different faces, all wore the same haunted look. It made Jiang Cheng realize, as he gasped at his last breath, that there was nothing he wanted to say to them.
And then everything faded away -- he embraced death like a long-lost lover.
Jiang Cheng had nothing to regret and he certainly didn’t regret dying that way. It was death with honor, he’d like to think, protecting other people. People he had loved and hated in equal measure. He had lived a long life, all thanks to the borrowed cultivation of his former brother. It was a little bit empty, to be honest, having spent it with nothing but water and lotus as company. But at the very least, he had done something right for once in his life: he had rebuilt Lotus Pier and restored his sect to its former glory. He had raised his sister’s son the best way he could, against all odds, and now that little bird had left his nest without looking back, no longer needed him.
Jiang Cheng was satisfied. He had never had any ambitions beyond his duty, no desire to live selfishly. Because when the time came for him, he only wanted to be able to say to his father and mother: I have fulfilled my duty to our family.
Before him was the wheel of reincarnation. Jiang Cheng hesitated.
The thought of being reborn, reincarnated into another life where he could potentially have to fight for his place -- he didn’t want that. Jiang Cheng had enough fighting. His whole life seemed to be devoted to fighting for meager things: his father’s affection and his mother’s approval, his rightful place beside a brother who had once promised a lifetime to him, a chance for a life with a man he loved but in the end, the same lips that kissed him silly just the morning before arched in a familiar way that twisted at Jiang Cheng’s heart and broke it a thousand times over -- “A-Yao, A-Yao,” the man once said in his feverish dream, calling out to his lover long gone.
Even his sister, however unintentionally; it was Jiang Cheng who had to concede, step aside and make way so that she could care for Wei Wuxian. Jiang Yanli -- who didn’t even spare him a glance as she walked across the battlefield, armed with nothing but a single-minded determination to save one brother from a doom of his own making, and failed to see that she had doomed her other brother to a living hell. Jiang Yanli -- who was willing to die for one brother, but not to live for the other.
And then one day, Wei Wuxian came back from the dead wearing a different face and different voice -- but Jiang Cheng would have recognized him anyway, singled him out in an ocean of strangers’ faces. His brother, who had decided to forget the past and move on, who started a brand new life among glorious mountains instead of violent rivers.
Jiang Cheng thought, he didn’t ask for Wei Wuxian to stay with him forever, only to come back once in a while. But it wouldn’t be moving on enough, it seemed, so Jiang Cheng was left behind again, forced to watch him walk away.
They were always walking away from him, but Jiang Cheng never seemed able to walk away from them.
What else could he say to that?
The truth was simple: even in his second life, Jiang Cheng was still not Wei Wuxian’s first choice. And if Wei Wuxian, who had loved him first and loved him best, never chose him over anything else, then what was the probability of someone else choosing Jiang Cheng in a life entirely foreign? Jiang Cheng did not wish to fight anymore.
Once.
He only wanted to be someone’s first choice once. But no matter what he did, nothing seemed to be enough. Perhaps he should be his own first choice before he was anyone else’s.
“If I were to start over,” he said to the wheel before him, half musing, “I don’t want to be me again.”
The Fate granted his prayer, though Jiang Cheng would have no recollection of it.
1.
His parents sent him to Lotus Pier to begin cultivating when he was ten years old. It was a little bit of a late start, but Jiang Cheng’s tenacity and general stubbornness, as his mother liked to tease him about, were more than enough to make up for the lost time.
One of his shixiong not much older than himself, Wei Wuxian was his name, was an interesting person but only when observed from afar. Jiang Cheng had heard all kinds of stories about him, some more outrageous than others, like how Wei Wuxian had once made Yu-furen -- the fearsome Violet Spider with lightning in her hand -- cry when he was first brought to Lotus Pier by Jiang-zongzhu. It was only a rumor, one that Jiang Cheng would take with a grain of salt, but they said that Wei Wuxian had demanded where his shidi was and why he wasn’t there with them.
Much, much later, Jiang Cheng learned that Jiang-zongzhu and Yu-furen had lost a son, a stillborn, who was supposed to be named Cheng’er. Funny, Jiang Cheng thought when he learned that, because if the baby were alive, they would be of the same age and of the same name but with a vastly different life -- an heir to a great sect and a nobody lucky enough to still bear the name Jiang.
But as it was, the Jiang sect was left with no heir apparent; only a daughter named Jiang Yanli who had the sweetest disposition Jiang Cheng didn’t know possible and a ward who was rumored to inherit the sect one day even though everybody knew of Yu-furen’s dislike of the boy. Not that Jiang Cheng cared about his sect politics and its succession line. Except for his cultivation progress and duty as a Jiang sect disciple, he rarely cared about anything else.
Sometimes though, more and more often, Jiang Cheng would find Wei Wuxian or Jiang Yanli looking at him strangely like they were expecting something from him. But Jiang Cheng didn’t care enough to find out what they wanted from him. He would glance -- and more often than not they were already looking at him -- and nod at them, polite yet distant, before going his continuing his task. Sometimes if he remembered, he would spare them a ghost of a smile and pretend they didn’t have similar pained looks on their faces. Jiang Cheng had made it his utmost mission to avoid unnecessary interactions with them, all of them.
During his first Mid-Autumn Festival as a disciple, Jiang Cheng chose to go home instead of celebrating it with his new martial family. He told his mother all about the Jiang sect and Lotus Pier -- how, in some peculiar moments, some hallways and the creaking of the dock felt too familiar for him, like he was walking in someone else’s skin. His mother only smiled indulgently, kissing the frown between his brows and urging him to take another bite of his favorite mooncake.
It was strange, Jiang Cheng thought as he let his mother smooth out his hair, like he was never meant to witness a mother’s smile or feel a mother’s kiss upon his brow.
2.
At fifteen years old, Jiang Cheng was sent to study in Cloud Recesses together with a small group of junior disciples. Among them was Wei Wuxian who was now the head disciple.
It was an expected decision to name Wei Wuxian as their head disciple. Talent-wise, no junior disciple and even some portion of senior disciples was as talented as Wei Wuxian in the six arts. But conduct-wise -- it was with quite a lot of regret that Jiang Cheng had to admit that Yunmeng Jiang sect had a lot of better-behaving disciples and the majority of them were not even ten years old.
Jiang Cheng was of the opinion that a head disciple should conduct themselves with utmost grace, representing their sect in matters of diplomacy especially in the absence of a young master or mistress. That duty, naturally, fell on Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. A duty he didn’t seem keen on upholding, considering his excitement about some emperor’s smile or something.
Not that Jiang Cheng put much care into it, as he listened to Wei Wuxian’s nonstop chattering with half an ear. If their sect leader saw no problem in letting their head disciple create troubles left and right even in other major sects’ territory, then it was not Jiang Cheng’s duty to keep him in line either. He refused to be responsible for a dashixiong who generally lacked the self-restraint to stop himself from entertaining his ideas of fun.
3.
Life in Cloud Recesses couldn’t be any more different than in Lotus Pier.
Jiang Cheng spent his days in relative calmness; being a dutiful student and dutifully avoided Wei Wuxian’s path of mischief whenever he caught his shixiong trying to annoy the living hell out of Lan-er-gongzi. And just like most things in his life, Jiang Cheng found the tranquility of the place too familiar -- a vague sense of nostalgia -- though he had grown used to the feeling and had long since learned to ignore it.
It didn’t take long for him to adapt to the systematic rhythm in Gusu Lan sect, blending in almost seamlessly with the Lan junior disciples with envious ease -- woke up at five and slept at nine, swallowed their medicinal food without a moment of hesitation. He also somehow managed to catch his teacher’s attention, two weeks into the lecture, perhaps because he seemed to be the only guest disciple alert enough for their morning class. Enough for the said teacher to invite him for tea.
Jiang Cheng stared at the Lan disciple in front of him in bewilderment. “Lan-laoshi what?”
“Lan Qiren-laoshi has asked to meet you,” the Lan disciple repeated his words with emphasize, a picture of grace and eloquence.
“Now? Right now?”
“If you’re done with your task, yes. Lan-laoshi wishes to meet you now in his office.”
“Okay, sure,” said Jiang Cheng, still clearly not comprehending the situation he got himself into.
The Lan disciple guided him to Lan Qiren’s office, and before Jiang Cheng managed to prepare himself, he knocked on the door and announced them. “Lan-xiansheng, Jiang-gongzi is here as you requested.”
“Come in,” came the reply from inside.
The disciple waved his hand to indicate that Jiang Cheng would be going inside alone, smiling thinly before he left Jiang Cheng alone.
Swallowing thickly, Jiang Cheng reached for the door and stepped inside. “I heard you were looking for me, Lan-laoshi?”
“Yes, come and take a seat.”
Jiang Cheng hesitantly lowered himself to sit at the low table, his eyes taking notes on the way Lan Qiren was preparing tea. Only after the tea was served and Jiang Cheng had taken a nervous sip did Lan Qiren start, “How do you find our lessons so far, Jiang-gongzi?”
Jiang Cheng winced at the particularly loud noise he made while putting down his cup, portraying his nervousness. “Please call me with ease, Lan-laoshi.” At Lan Qiren’s agreement, he continued. “Your lessons are most eye-opening, laoshi.”
Lan Qiren hummed. “Haven’t you studied the same materials in the Jiang sect? I was worried that my lessons would be redundant, especially to the disciples from major sects.”
Jiang Cheng thumbed his cup thoughtfully. “We in the Jiang sect put more importance on the practical aspects of cultivation. We aren’t used to considering the theoretical aspects too deeply. Just enough to know the hows, but never dwell on the whys.”
Lan Qiren nodded his head, looking contemplative. “Quite a contrast, huh?”
“Yes, and I think that’s why most of my fellow disciples are still struggling to adapt to the way of Gusu Lan sect,” Jiang Cheng said, subtly trying to make a case for a certain someone. “We are quite free-spirited, after all.”
His subtle attempt was met with a disbelieving huff. “Like your head disciple, you mean?”
Jiang Cheng’s cheeks were warm as he tried not to fidget.
“To be honest, I didn’t expect to find a disciple like you in the Jiang sect,” Lan Qiren said after taking a sip of his tea.
Jiang Cheng blinked at him, unsure about the hidden meaning behind Lan Qiren’s words.
“There is no doubt that Wei Wuxian is a gifted disciple -- some would say genius, even -- no matter how…unconventional some of his approaches could be,” Lan Qiren said carefully as if he was gauging Jiang Cheng’s reaction.
Jiang Cheng had to hide his wry smirk. Unconventional, he thought; that was probably the most polite word Lan Qiren could use to describe Wei Wuxian and his outrageous ideas. Jiang Cheng himself would straight up call his shixiong unorthodox or radical, and in worse cases heretical.
Perhaps judging that Jiang Cheng wasn’t the slightest bit offended on the Jiang sect head disciple’s behalf, the elder continued. “I didn’t know the method of choosing a head disciple in your sect, but surely he wasn’t the only candidate for the position? Was it not based on merit, and simply because he is the oldest?”
Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the right words for his response. He settled on, “Wei-dashixiong is both the oldest and, as you’ve pointed out before, the most gifted among us junior disciples.”
Lan Qiren quirked an eyebrow, not at all impressed. “I did say he is a gifted disciple, but not the most gifted.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t quite understand the point of this discussion -- for an elder from another sect to question the way the Jiang sect decided to operate. It wasn’t born from malicious intent, that much Jiang Cheng could see. That was why he could sit back and think more carefully about Lan Qiren’s statement.
All in all, Lan Qiren wasn’t exactly wrong and Jiang Cheng didn’t exactly disagree with the opinion. He just wouldn’t outrightly express his agreement either. He was a Jiang sect’s disciple, after all. And more importantly, Jiang Cheng never bothered himself with the internal workings of his sect. Who Jiang-zongzhu deemed worthy to hold the position of their head disciple, even though said head disciple had arguable work ethics -- or who was going to inherit the sect some day; those were simply none of Jiang Cheng’s business.
He didn’t care about the complicated political aspects of a sect, but ironically he seemed to have a decent political mind to carefully navigate this tricky topic.
“I’m sure you understand that being a head disciple isn’t only a matter of cultivation level. Their general competence should also be considered. They will become the very example for younger disciples, and they should conduct themselves in the best interests of the sect they’re representing.” Lan Qiren paused dramatically before continuing. “I think it’s safe to say that so far Wei Wuxian’s conduct isn’t the slightest bit helping your sect’s image.”
“I think it is a matter that you should discuss with Jiang-zongzhu himself if you think it’s pertinent enough,” said Jiang Cheng as carefully as he could.
Lan Qiren huffed out a breath, looking mildly annoyed. But not at Jiang Cheng, thank Guanyin. “Well I would have,” he replied, indignant. “I would have suggested someone else for the position had I had prior information,” Lan Qiren said, his tone a blatant indication of who he would have suggested.
Jiang Cheng felt strangely warm in his chest. It wasn’t that he never got complimented by others, especially male parental figures. Jiang Fengmian certainly complimented him enough about his training progress or even his swift handling of any complication during night hunts. But hearing such a thing -- that he was no less than his genius dashixiong, that someone else preferred him better, that he was not second -- it evoked a sense of contentment in his heart.
Jiang Cheng felt his eyes burn hot as he tried to hide his smile. “Lan-laoshi need not worry. I am confident, with enough time and steady guidance from Jiang-zongzhu and Yu-furen, Wei-dashixiong would grow up to be worthy of your praises.”
“Yes, I have the utmost confidence that Yu Ziyuan won’t let her sect fall to ruin.” Lan Qiren huffed, cracking a satisfied smile. His eyes, usually sharp and stern, were warm as he looked at Jiang Cheng with something akin to pride. “If anything, I am more sure in my initial assessment of your character, Jiang Wanyin.”
Jiang Cheng, unable to smother his bashful grin, bowed his head. “I am humbled by your high praises. I shall strive harder to meet them, Lan-laoshi.”
“I wouldn’t think less of you no matter what you do, Wanyin -- or what you couldn’t do.”
After that, they spent some time in silence, enjoying the fragrant tea Lan Qiren served together with a small assortment of sweets.
“Do you mind me asking another question, Wanyin?”
Jiang Cheng put down his cup with a soft clink. “Of course not. Please don’t hesitate, Lan-laoshi.”
“Are you, perhaps, from the main branch of the family? Closely related to Jiang-zongzu himself?”
“No, Lan-laoshi,” Jiang Cheng answered immediately. “My father is from a distant branch family, but neither of my parents is a cultivator. I am the first in my family, in at least six generations.”
Lan Qiren stroked his beard, looking deep in thought as he studied Jiang Cheng’s face with unreadable eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you bear a resemblance to the current Jiang sect leader’s family?”
Jiang Cheng smiled bitterly as he cast his eyes downward, hearing that familiar comment about his look; something he had heard probably over a thousand times while growing up in Lotus Pier -- how, they liked to say, he could easily pass as a direct Jiang clan member with his high cheekbones and deep-set eyes that were specific to those born a true Jiang, framed in sharp and almost delicate facial bones. A peculiar mix of Jiang and Yu, more accurately -- they very pointedly said.
However impossible Jiang Cheng’s existence was, the fact stood uncontested; simple and painful. The midwives had assisted the birth of a stillborn during Yu Ziyuan’s bloody delivery, the whole pregnancy was strenuous enough that it was a miracle she was able to carry full-term; and Jiang Fengmian had wept as he held his son in his arms as soon as he was delivered -- so so warm but so so still, the red from his mother’s blood painting his blueish skin rosy. The little young master was cremated soon after.
Perhaps if it wasn’t so painfully clear, everyone would’ve suspected foul play and claimed that Jiang Cheng was the long-lost son of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, the beloved young master of Lotus Pier.
But as it was, there was no doubt about Jiang Cheng’s parentage either; every single person in his village, old enough to remember his birth, had sworn to his legitimacy as the only son of a humble man and his wife. They all had watched Jiang Cheng grow, from the moment he came out of his mother’s womb -- howling loud enough to rival the storm raging their village that day, as though he had shaken the very heaven with his birth -- until the day he left their little village to study cultivation in Lotus Pier. Jiang Cheng’s father, Jiang Kanghu, came from a long, long line of distant Jiang branch family, distant enough to only merit their name and not their legacy; something that Jiang Cheng had secretly relieved his entire life. Meanwhile his mother, Li Daiyu, was from a more humble family with no history of producing cultivators.
“Lan-laoshi is certainly not the first to think like that, I admit.”
“I see…” said Lan Qiren in the end, and perhaps sensing Jiang Cheng’s reluctance to discuss such personal matters, he swiftly moved their conversation to a more scholarly topic. “Say, Wanyin, have you ever heard of -- ”
Talking with Lan Qiren after class was not a one-time thing. It seemed the elder found their discussion as refreshing as Jiang Cheng had felt, and invited him not even three days later.
More and more, Jiang Cheng found Lan Qiren’s office as familiar as the classroom and spent almost a shichen several times a week. It had become a routine that one would simply assume Jiang Cheng was receiving private tutoring.
When he brought up the gossip to Lan Qiren, the elder merely raised a brow and asked. “Do you mind taking extra lessons from me?”
Jiang Cheng was flabbergasted and told his teacher that he would be a fool to pass up the chance to receive guidance from the respectable Lan Qiren. The elder had looked the most pleased and immediately assigned several reading materials from the Library Pavillion. That was where Jiang Cheng found himself meeting Lan Xichen, the First Jade of Lan, too often now to call this a mere coincidence. But Jiang Cheng was too preoccupied with his reading and fighting the steady throb in his chest to notice that the older young master was always looking at him with a smile gracing his lips.
One day though, Wei Wuxian stopped him on his way to the Library Pavillion and asked him, looking too baffled to be called polite, why would Jiang Cheng voluntarily want to spend more time in that strict teacher’s class. Jiang Cheng had looked at him, unimpressed. His shixiong, Jiang Cheng suspected, wouldn’t understand that Lan Qiren, when not busy spitting blood in righteous fury at Wei Wuxian’s unorthodox thinking, was a patient and generous teacher. He said nothing to Wei Wuxian, only shrugged his shoulders and sidestepped him like he used to, ignoring the poorly concealed disappointment in his complaint of, “Aiyah, Jiang Cheng! So cold!”
4.
The only blemish in his academic career, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion, was the incident with Jin Zixuan.
He didn’t know how it all started. Within the span of a single breath, Jiang Cheng went from relaxing in his room after class was dismissed to being bodily dragged by his shidi back to the very classroom he had just left a moment prior -- only now that said classroom had descended into chaos with Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan at the very center of the storm.
In the span of a fraction of shichen since Jiang Cheng left them, Wei Wuxian had managed to get into a fight with another young master. It started with some petty arguments about some obscure matter, and then somehow Jiang Yanli’s name was thrown around; really, it was all it took for Wei Wuxian to take matters into his own hands, quite literally if his clenched fists were any indication.
Jiang Cheng stood warily at the side, assessing the situation. He was used to being called in whenever their dashixiong was making trouble, angering people he shouldn’t anger or pranks went awry. Because for some unknown reason, Jiang Cheng was the only person, aside from his adopted family, who could control Wei Wuxian with very few words.
In that split second, Jiang Cheng decided that if Jin Zixuan had to get pummeled no matter what, it would be better if it was him doing the punching -- there would be less political fallout if a lowly disciple like him doing it, rather than the head disciple. And so before Wei Wuxian even managed to raise his arm, Jiang Cheng darted forward, quick on his feet, and punched Jin Zixuan right at his arrogant nose. The resounding crack of a broken cartilage was loud enough to stun everyone present in the vicinity.
“J--Jiang Cheng?” called Wei Wuxian with trembling voice, eyes wide in disbelief.
Jiang Cheng huffed and wiped his sore knuckles on his robes. “You shouldn’t go around punching other people in the face, shixiong,” he said in an even tone, eyeing Jin Zixuan who was now crunching on the ground holding his bloodied nose.
“W--what the hell did you do to Zixuan, you bastard!” Another Jin disciple, his name somehow had escaped Jiang Cheng, shouted at him in fury, brandishing his sword. He was ready to challenge Jiang Cheng in a duel if only several Lan disciples and elders didn’t descend on them like avenging angels.
“What is the meaning of this, Wanyin?”
Facing an angered Lan Qiren, Jiang Cheng swallowed his grimace.
“If any of you still have any shame left, those who are responsible for this shameless behavior will follow me to my office right this instant.” Lan Qiren said, sharp eyes sweeping across the classroom. Without waiting for any young masters, he marched back out.
Jiang Cheng dutifully followed.
5.
It was rather unexpected that Jiang Fengmian didn’t even look remotely upset at him when he arrived at Cloud Recesses at Lan Qiren’s urgent message, while Jin Guangshan who arrived not long behind was looking like an insulted peacock, huffing and puffing in annoyance. Jiang Cheng even got a reassuring pat on his shoulder and a concerned suggestion of, “why don’t you see a healer for your hand, A-Cheng?” when he noticed Jiang Cheng’s bruised knuckles -- and to his head disciple, “take A-Cheng to the infirmary, won’t you, A-Xian?” before he went his way to do some damage control.
Jiang Cheng’s shoulder seemed to have caught fire, terrible fire, during the entire walk to the infirmary.
The heated discussion between two great sects didn’t even last half a shichen -- Jin Guangshan all but stormed out of the office, clearly unsatisfied with whatever results they had reached inside. Jiang Fengmian and Lan Qiren followed a couple of beats later, walking in a sedate manner, a perfect picture of calm and serenity.
Wei Wuxian approached them with impatient steps. “How was it, Jiang-shushu? Is A-Cheng going to be okay?”
Jiang Fengmian swiftly placated his ward with experienced hands. “I’ll tell you soon, but now Lan-laoshi needs to talk to A-Cheng first.”
Swallowing audibly, Wei Wuxian let Jiang Cheng go with a concerned look, a contrast to Jiang Fengmian’s ever-present mild smile.
As the main culprit of the incident, Jiang Cheng silently followed Lan Qiren to his office -- a familiar place in such an unfamiliar atmosphere. His heart was beating hard in his chest, betraying a neutral façade he tried to put on his face.
Sitting across from his teacher at the low table, Jiang Cheng sat with his back straight, ready to hear whatever bad news Lan Qiren had to deliver himself.
“Jiang-zongzhu and Jin-zongzhu have decided that the prior understanding between Jiang-guniang and Jin-gongzi would need to be revisited at a later time. It wouldn’t do to force them into unwanted union,” Lan Qiren said without preamble.
Jiang Cheng thought, with a sinking heart, that it was such a roundabout way to imply that he had cost his sect’s only young mistress her engagement. Jiang Cheng might not know Jiang Yanli well enough, a deliberate move on his part, but he had heard enough from the other disciples that Jiang Yanli harbored romantic feelings for her soon-to-be ex-fiance. After spending half his life trying to avoid them, never in his wildest dream did Jiang Cheng ever think he would cause such a significant incident.
Jiang Cheng’s gulp was almost audible in the tense room.
“I understand that Jin-gongzi was entirely wrong to say that, to his own fiancee no less. But it was also wrong for you to retaliate with force. The other young masters said it was between Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian. You weren’t even there when it happened, and you suddenly intervened by punching Jin-gongzi. Why did you do that, Wanyin?” Why did you punch Jin Zixuan when Wei Wuxian would have done it first -- Jiang Cheng heard that silent question loud and clear.
Jiang Cheng took a moment to form his words. “I just thought that if it were our head disciple who did it, who is our official representative here, it would cause a bigger repercussion compared to a lowly disciple like myself.”
If it was possible, the frown on Lan Qiren’s forehead turned more severe. “I agree that if it were Wei Wuxian, Jin-zongzhu wouldn’t be easily pacified. But I absolutely don’t agree to think that you are a mere lowly disciple. You shouldn’t consider yourself like that, Wanyin.”
Jiang Cheng bowed his head in shame, unable to say anything.
After a long time, Lan Qiren sighed, long and hard. “You will go to the Library Pavilion and meet with Lan Yuze every day after class, and do whatever it is he requires of you. Every day without fail until your graduation.”
Jiang Cheng’s head snapped so fast it was a wonder he didn’t dislocate his neck, looking completely taken aback. He was damn sure his punishment would be expulsion, at the least. But now Lan Qiren said he only had to do some work in the library where he already spent half his waking hour every day pouring over some scrolls and obscure texts. How was that a punishment?
“Are you not…going to expel me, Lan-laoshi?” asked Jiang Cheng with trepidation.
Lan Qiren narrowed his eyes. “You think so lowly of me, Jiang Wanyin.”
Jiang Cheng’s astonishment was clear on his face. “I -- ”
“You are dismissed,” Lan Qiren interrupted with a wave of his hand.
But then again, Lan Qiren’s disappointed look was perhaps the harsher punishment.
With a heavy heart, Jiang Cheng excused himself. Outside, both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Fengmian were already waiting for him.
“Listen well to Lan-laoshi and don’t cause too much trouble, A-Xian,” Jiang Fengmian said before departing. “And do your punishment patiently, A-Cheng. I’ll see you two after graduation and not a moment before, alright?”
Once Jiang Fengmian was just a speck in the distance, Wei Wuxian slung his arm to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “What do you think about a short trip to Caiyi Town right now, Jiang Cheng?”
Jiang Cheng unceremoniously removed Wei Wuxian’s arm from his person, turning away while muttering. “What do you think about starting on your own punishment, shixiong?” With that cold dismissal, Jiang Cheng walked away, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s disappointed yell.
The next day after class, Jiang Cheng knocked on the head librarian’s office. Lan Yuze promptly showed him to a desk in the corner of the room. Several piles of books were already waiting. Jiang Cheng’s duty for the day.
Every day without fail, just like Lan Qiren commanded, he came to the library where he was mostly tasked with cataloging duty. Lan Yuze also ordered him to make dozens of copies of books. It was a lot of work and his fingers were cramped for hours at the end of the day. New calluses were formed on his fingers from hours of holding brushes and grinding ink stones. Even so, Jiang Cheng was grateful because all in all, it was a light punishment considering the severity of his action -- but not at all surprising for a teacher’s pet such as himself, as Nie Huaisang had kindly put it while flapping his blasted paper fan in front of Jiang Cheng’s face. Jiang Cheng had silently agreed with the Nie young master’s opinion. He had harmed a sect heir, the richest one no less, though everyone collectively admitted that the Jin young master deserved to get his nose broken after his unsavory comment about the beloved Jiang-guniang.
With extra diligence, Jiang Cheng did all his punishment -- taking comfort in the calming scent of books and ink, his fingers seemed to be forever stained black. It would be perfect if only one specimen of a Lan jade didn’t feel the need to constantly orbit around him, too many times to be called a coincidence anymore.
Still, Jiang Cheng kept his mouth shut and if possible, he poured even more care into his work, careful in each of his strokes, double checking his writing so that not even the slightest mistakes were made when creating copies -- they were all precious books, after all.
The rest of the year, fortunately, passed by without any major incidents. He was only mildly annoyed that Wei Wuxian had spent weeks singing praises about his supposedly heroic act of defending Jiang-guniang’s honor.
In no time at all, the graduation day had come. Jiang Cheng graduated with flying colors, and to no one’s surprise, so did Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang, even with his lack of diligence, was somehow able to compose answers coherent enough to pass his test with a hairbreadth margin. Maybe all those times he spent pestering Jiang Cheng in the library – it’s called keeping company, Jiang-xiong! -- finally bore fruit.
When it was time to return to Lotus Pier, after such an eventful year, Jiang Cheng could walk away with his head held high. He walked away without hesitation; he already delivered his farewell to the only Lan he deemed important, leaving another Lan staring at his retreating figure forlornly.
6.
Jiang Cheng had expected to be met with Yu-furen’s lashing once they arrived at Lotus Pier -- both literally and figuratively -- for messing up the promise between two sworn sisters. Yet, as he landed on the dock and sheathed his sword, the ever-stern Yu-furen only stared at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes and said, albeit a little frostily, “you’d better make use of those extra lessons Lan Qiren had graciously taught you for the benefit of our sect,” and promptly marched back inside in a swirl of billowing robes, leaving Jiang Cheng with all too familiar phantom pain in his chest.
“Won’t you join us for lunch this time, A-Cheng? I made A-Xian’s favorite lotus root and pork rib soup to celebrate,” asked Jiang Yanli, still smiling so warmly even though Jiang Cheng had unwittingly broken her engagement; even though he had been nothing but cold and distant to her all this time.
As always, the pain was a steady throb inside his ribcage. Still, Jiang Cheng nodded in acceptance, perhaps for the first time in this life when he had spent fastidiously avoiding them. Jiang Yanli’s smile was positively blinding -- and guilt tugged at his heart.
A little forcefully, Jiang Cheng convinced himself that this was his way of apologizing to her.
7.
It was an especially hot summer day in his twenty-third year when Jiang-zongzhu called him to the dining hall of the family wing just as he was about to have his lunch. Wei Wuxian patted the empty stool beside him for Jiang Cheng to sit, looking exuberant like they hadn’t seen each other in forever. Jiang Yanli smiled warmly at him from her place across the empty seat and Yu Ziyuan calmly observed him with her usual sharpness.
Jiang Cheng took the offered seat without complaint, simply because he had learned that rejecting four people with single-minded persistence was tiring. He sat with his back straight in a formal posture, careful not to touch the portion of lunch that was very clearly prepared for him beforehand. Jiang Cheng observed the dining room discreetly, noting that the table and chairs were still the same -- made exactly to fit five people.
“How’s your duty nowadays, A-Cheng? Any interesting story during your night hunts?” asked Jiang Fengmian as he regarded Jiang Cheng with a faint smile.
Jiang Cheng was now a senior disciple, spent most of his time going to night hunts all across the Yunmeng territory. He found the time away from Lotus Pier -- from these very people -- to be most cathartic.
Jiang Cheng tried not to grimace at the endearment; he never liked being called by his birth name by these people. A-Cheng, Cheng’er, Chengcheng. The fondness in their voices never failed to make him nauseous. Did they still consider Jiang Cheng a replacement for their lost son and younger brother?
“Nothing I haven’t already reported, Jiang-zongzhu,” he answered succinctly, unlocking his rigid jaw just enough to speak politely.
Across the table, Jiang Yanli slid a small bowl full of peeled lotus seeds in front of him. Jiang Cheng stared blankly at the offered food, not making any move to accept it even when Jiang Yanli’s expression fell and she looked crestfallen at his refusal. Jiang Cheng pointedly looked away, swallowing back a painful lump in his throat.
Thirteen years since his arrival at Lotus Pier -- and this feeling of heartache, clinging to him like phantom pain from amputated limbs, never quite receding. Jiang Cheng wondered, how much more distance he had to put between them just so that he could catch his breath.
“I apologize for being impudent, but may I ask why did you call for me, Jiang-zongzhu?”
“Aiyah, Jiang Cheng! Why are you talking so stiffly? Relax and eat your lunch first, won’t you?” said Wei Wuxian, trying to melt the ice in Jiang Cheng’s armor.
“I’m sorry, Wei-gongzi, but I’ve promised some junior disciples a lesson after lunch.”
Wei Wuxian grimaced at being called Wei-gongzi. Jiang Cheng stopped calling him shixiong once they became senior disciples, choosing to call him Wei-gongzi as soon as he was named sect heir.
Jiang Cheng knew Wei Wuxian hated being called that way, the same way he knew Jiang Yanli wanted to be called something other than Jiang-guniang, or Yu Ziyuan Yu-furen and Jiang Fengmian Jiang-zongzhu. It was a comical sight, to be fair, these important people calling him with fondness while Jiang Cheng, stone-faced, stubbornly addressed them like a servant would. Always proper. Always impersonal.
But now was not the time to think about such a matter.
At his prompting, Jiang Fengmian looked at Jiang Cheng, his eyes shadowed by an unnamed sheen but it was gone the moment he blinked. “Yesterday, I received a proposal from Cloud Recesses for you,” he paused in his words, and carefully said, “A marriage proposal.”
Jiang Cheng was stunned into silence. Everyone at the table looked at him silently, awaiting his response. Jiang Cheng swallowed.
“What?” was all he could say.
“The Gusu Lan sect is asking, on behalf of Zewu-jun, for your hand in marriage.”
That was the craziest thing Jiang Cheng had ever heard in his life.
The peerless First Jade of Lan, Zewu-jun, Lan-zongzhu -- that Lan Xichen was asking for his hand in marriage. All of a sudden. Jiang Cheng couldn’t even begin to guess what had spurred this.
They never had any interaction outside of sect’s business, never knew each other on a personal basis. Sure, Jiang Cheng had maintained his teacher-student relationship with Lan Qiren and had paid his teacher regular visits -- but that was between him and his teacher, even if said teacher was the other man's uncle.
Did Lan Qiren arrange for this? Though Jiang Cheng was doubtful.
Feeling weirdly lightheaded, Jiang Cheng inquired. “Do I have any say in the matter, Jiang-zongzhu?”
“Of course, A-Cheng,” Jiang Fengmian readily agreed. “We can discuss it carefully. The Lan sect also sent a draft for pre-nuptial agreements. We can look it over together.”
They were already preparing pre-nuptial agreements. Gusu Lan sect was as serious as they could be.
But Jiang Cheng was also serious when he answered. “There will be no need, Jiang-zongzhu. I wish to respectfully reject the proposal. If Zewu-jun and Gusu Lan sect wish to establish a stronger alliance with Yunmeng Jiang sect, I believe there are other disciples better suited for this arrangement.”
Everyone was surprised, didn’t truly expect Jiang Cheng to reject it so firmly.
“Don’t you want to see the proposal first before rejecting it, A-Cheng?” inquired Jiang Yanli.
“No, Jiang-guniang. If I truly have a say in this, then I would still decline, no matter what. Unless Jiang-zongzhu commands me as a sect leader to a disciple, then I will obey.”
Jiang Fengmian’s face twisted in a pained smile. “I wouldn’t do that to you, A-Cheng. I hope I never did anything to make you think otherwise.”
Jiang Cheng smiled ruefully. “Not in this life, perhaps not,” he muttered enigmatically. “If Gusu Lan still insists on marriage, I’m confident that Jiang-zongzhu could propose another candidate worthy enough for the esteemed Zewu-jun. I will talk to Lan Qiren-laoshi to make sure our sects’ alliance won’t suffer from this.”
With one last parting bow, Jiang Cheng left their dining hall.
8.
True to his words, Jiang Fengmian immediately sent the proposal back with a rejection.
Jiang Cheng waited at least three days after the letter was received by Gusu Lan sect before making his way to Cloud Recesses.
As a holder of a jade token, courtesy to Lan Qiren, Jiang Cheng entered Cloud Recesses without much fanfare, heading straight to Lan Qiren’s office where the elder was most likely. He just didn’t expect to find an upset Lan Qiren.
“Are you angry with me, laoshi?”
Lan Qiren, from his place behind his desk, shook his head. He slowly stood up and proceeded to pace around the room, leaving Jiang Cheng at a loss as he watched his teacher walking back and forth, clearly agitated.
“Just tell me. Enlighten me,” Lan Qiren said, pausing long enough to look at Jiang Cheng before his face twitched in annoyance. He resumed his pacing. “What is it that displeases you? The term of the contract? The betrothal gifts? Do they not to your liking? I was the one helping Xichen choose each one of them. I thought they were all appropriate, suited to your taste. Were they not? Just tell this teacher of yours, truthfully. I will go and rectify it myself.”
“Are you disappointed that I rejected the proposal?”
Lan Qiren whirled around to look at his student, looking like he was having a hard time formulating his sentences. “I just thought you would not reject it. I thought, even if you don’t know Xichen intimately, I thought you would still consider it a good match. Xichen is a good man, and I’m not saying this just because I am his uncle, but I always thought that he would be good for you. And you for him.” Lan Qiren drew in a sharp breath. “Your characters and temperaments compliment each other, do you know that?”
Jiang Cheng was silent, studying the teapot in front of him as if it held the secret of the universe. He knew that his teacher meant well. He also knew that Lan Xichen was a good man, perfect even. And it was true that somehow the two of them had different temperaments that contrasted just enough to complement each other. Where Jiang Cheng was tactical, Lan Xichen was empathetic. Jiang Cheng was all rough and sharp edges, and Lan Xichen was warm and pleasant. Almost too perfect to be true.
But how could Jiang Cheng tell Lan Qiren that he simply couldn’t bear it -- being with these people, as if he was chased by the ghost of a past he had forgotten -- it felt like his heart would truly break into two with this amount of heartbreak he had to endure. But at the same time, Jiang Cheng couldn’t bear to disappoint Lan Qiren. Maybe that was why he found himself saying, “If laoshi wishes it, I will gladly marry Zewu-jun,” though he regretted it the moment his words left his mouth.
Lan Qiren stopped in his track and his head snapped so hard, eyes bulging in anger. “If I wish it, you’ll marry Xichen, you said? Do you think of me so lowly, Jiang Wanyin? That I would demand such a thing from you? Do not insult me with your insolence.”
Jiang Cheng sealed his mouth shut, contrite.
“Well, then I suppose you will become the next owner of that cursed gentian house and Xichen will live his whole life in seclusion,” said Lan Qiren, full of self-deprecating tone. With a sharp wave of his hand, he told Jiang Cheng to go. “Go and make yourself scarce. Do not show your face to me if you still entertain that wretched idea of yours.”
9.
Life resumed without much fanfare after that.
The first time Jiang Cheng met Lan Xichen after the rejection, it was during the annual discussion conference in Lotus Pier several years later. Lan Xichen still remained blissfully a bachelor. The alliance between Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan sect was secured through Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s marriage instead.
They exchanged brief greetings with each other, and Lan Xichen looked at him with something reminiscent of longing in his soulful eyes -- heavy with the promises of what could have been, but Jiang Cheng had long since grown distrustful of such promises.
With one last meaningless well-wishes, Jiang Cheng averted his eyes and bowed, befitting a lesser man to a respected sect leader, and bid his goodbye. They never crossed paths again in this lifetime.
10.
Wei Ying was still waiting, in every lifetime, for a ghost of a brother from his memory to come back to him.
Lan Huan was still waiting, in every lifetime, for a ghost of a lover from his memory to come back to him.
Memory that was not his; memory that was not theirs. [ ]