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The fact that it takes Jin Ling his stupid cousin to realize that his family is larger than Sect Leader Jiang and Fairy the spiritual dog is embarrassing, in retrospect.
Jin Rufeng is the son of Jin Zixun, his father’s cousin, and therefore the most likely successor if anything happens to Jin Ling. He also grew up without a father, as Jin Zixun died of the Hundred-Holes curse when he was five. He’s three years older than Jin Ling, and the literal worst. Jin Ling can’t stand him.
So when Jin Rufeng questions him on his guest list for today’s conference, despite the fact that it is today, Jin Ling might get…a little angrier than he maybe should.
“How can Wei Wuxian be one of your guests, Jin Ling?” Jin Rufeng demands.
Jin Ling wants to walk away with a dramatic flourish, because that’s what Uncle Jiang would do. He wants to tell Jin Rufeng to call him Sect Leader Jin, because they’re not close, they just happen to be cousins. He wants to demand that Jin Rufeng address Wei Wuxian with respect, but he has no idea how that would work. Saying “the Yiling Patriarch” is more of an insult, and he has no official position in the Lan or Jiang Sects, despite his…relationships with them.
In the end, he doesn’t get to say any of this, because Jin Rufeng is still talking. “Did you forget he killed my father?”
“My uncle did not kill your father!” Jin Ling shouts. “He was cursed by the former Sect Leader Su, everyone knows that!”
Jin Rufeng gapes at him. “Surely the Yiling Patriarch does not consider himself to be part of Sect Leader Jin’s family!”
“Tell that to my uncle,” Jin Ling retorts, and it is at that moment that he realizes he doesn’t know which uncle he is talking about.
He also realizes that Jin Rufeng is trying to remind him that Wei Wuxian is responsible for the deaths of both his parents, but Jin Ling…doesn’t think that’s true. He still hasn’t gotten a clear answer on that, because the people who were actually involved all hate talking about it. But he’s innocent of everything else he was accused of, and Jin Ling remembers of the Siege of the Burial Mounds and thinks he understands how it might have happened.
Jin Rufeng gapes at him again, no doubt also wondering which uncle, and Jin Ling takes the opportunity to flounce away. It’s much more impressive in the golden halls of Jinlintai, not that he’ll ever tell Uncle Jiang that.
He announces this discovery to his uncle(s) not two hours later, when they come to find him in his rooms at the top of Jinlintai. He’s spent the last hour preparing for the conference, reviewing the detailed notes on each topic that will be discussed that his Uncle Jin left behind. Then his servants spent twenty minutes trying to make him look presentable before he kicked them out and told them to not let anyone disturb him.
So when the door bursts open, he knows it has to be one of his uncles.
Jin Ling has been trying to do his own hair up and failing miserably. He didn’t like the style the servants put up, but didn’t know how to say that without insulting their work, so he decided to do it himself instead. He’s used to just putting his hair up in a high ponytail, so trying to wrangle all these hair ornaments into place is giving him a headache.
Jin Ling whirls around, fingers stuck in his hair, and a complaint already forming on his lips when he sees the black and red figure in the doorway. “Uncle Wei!” He complains. “You’re not supposed to–”
He falters, because Uncle Wei’s eyes widen, and he mouths Uncle Wei to himself before breaking into a delighted grin.
“Uncle Wei!” Wei Wuxian repeats delightedly. He turns around excitedly to greet the person who did not barge into Jin Ling’s rooms. “Lan Zhan, did you hear that? Jin Ling called me his uncle!”
“Mn,” says ‘Lan Zhan,’ and Jin Ling will never understand Hanguang-jun or his relationship with Wei Wuxian, but he’s here nonetheless.
Lan Wangji follows in after Wei Wuxian, who bounced eagerly in like the puppies he hates. He inclines his head at Jin Ling. “Sect Leader Jin,” he greets.
Jin Ling tries not to shift uncomfortably at Hanguang-jun showing respect to him, or the fact it’s technically not respectful enough for the sect leader of one of the Great Sects. (He’s still mad that Jin Ling stabbed Uncle Wei that one time, isn’t he? Uncle Wei has already forgiven him! He says it’s a family tradition!)
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you can’t call him that now, he’s your nephew too!” Uncle Wei cries. “Right, Jin Ling? He’s your uncle-in-law if I’m your uncle!”
“Well,” Jin Ling huffs, avoiding looking at Hanguang-jun, because that’ll make his mess of hair even more embarrassing, and because that’s what normal people do, “what else would you be? You’re–my uncle’s brother! And–and–my mother’s brother–”
His cheeks are bright red by the time he’s finished spluttering incoherently, and Uncle Wei is tearing up, but from happiness, which is good because Jin Ling doesn’t fancy being murdered by Hanguang-jun right before his first discussion conference.
“Hmph,” says a familiar voice from the doorway. “Don’t tell him that or he’ll get a big head.”
Uncle Jiang strides in, and Jin Ling is very grateful to see him if only to save him from the trainwreck coming out of his mouth. Then he spots Jin Ling.
“Jin Ling–! What are you doing with your hair?”
Jin Ling flushes red again and yanks his hands out of his hair. “Nothing.” He avoids looking at Hanguang-jun even harder.
There’s a pause where Uncle Jiang snorts and he and Uncle Wei exchange an unreadable look, one that means they’re thinking of the times that Jin Ling didn’t even know existed until last year.
“Lan Zhan, will you take our things to our room?” Wei Wuxian gives his husband a pleading look.
Hanguang-jun does not look happy that he’s being kicked out, or that he is being sent on errand duty. He hesitates just long enough to make it clear that he doesn’t trust Jin Ling and Jiang Wanyin with Wei Wuxian before giving his husband what might pass as a smile and leaving dramatically. (Jin Ling thinks that he maybe does the dramatic exit better than Uncle Jiang, but he’s never telling Uncle Jiang that).
Uncle Jiang stays quiet for a full ten seconds after Lan Wangji leaves. “Asshole,” he mutters, just as Jin Ling is about to ask why.
“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian berates.
“What?” Uncle Jiang says grumpily. “He’s even more insufferable than you are, Wei Wuxian.”
As soon as Hanguang-jun left, they both started moving. Uncle Jiang herded Jin Ling back into his chair and Uncle Wei dove eagerly into his dresser. Jin Ling finds himself staring at his steadily reddening cheeks as his uncles pull up seats behind him and start combing through his hair.
He allows himself a few seconds of silent spluttering, but then his uncles stop brushing it and start arranging his hair. “Where did you learn to do this?” Jin Ling blurts before he can stop himself.
The four hands still in his hair, and Jin Ling peers anxiously into the mirror to see their reaction. Is this one of the things about the past that he’s not supposed to ask about? He figured out long ago that he shouldn’t ask Uncle Jiang about anything that happened before his mother died, but that changed a little bit after Wei Wuxian returned. Uncle Jiang never did his hair for him when he was growing up. He doesn’t understand when he learned, or how Uncle Wei’s presence got him to learn.
Both of his uncles avoid looking at him and each other, so Jin Ling threatens to twist in his seat and ruin all their work. They immediately both start bullying him until he stays still, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Jin Ling gives them his best petulant look, and for once it actually works.
Uncle Jiang clears his throat and looks down. “We. Used to do this.”
Uncle Wei actually meets his eyes, but Jin Ling almost wishes he wouldn’t, because he looks so emotional. Jin Ling subscribes to his uncle's school of thought that Emoting is Dumb. “For your mother,” he explains.
They both start fashioning his hair again, but slower. Jin Ling watches his uncles in the mirror and tries to imagine younger versions of them sitting behind Jiang Yanli–he’s stared at enough paintings of her to have memorized her face–carefully styling her hair into those two elaborate buns he’s seen in her portrait. He wonders which uncle did which. They always looked identical to him.
Uncle Wei holds his hair in place while Uncle Jiang fetches the golden peony hair ornament and slides it into his hair. Then Wei Wuxian adds a small lotus jade pin. He lets go slowly, as if it could fall apart on a moment’s notice. They both scoot their chairs back, and take a moment to admire their handiwork in silence.
Finally, Uncle Jiang stands, fingers twisting his ring around and around. “You remind me of her so much, A-Ling,” he admits, as if it’s some great secret he almost doesn’t dare say. Perhaps that’s not entirely wrong. “You’re both so…”
“Forgiving,” Uncle Wei says from his left. He smiles down at Jin Ling, who wonders if he’s also thinking of how Jin Ling has heard his entire life that the Yiling Patriarch killed his parents and now claims Wei Wuxian as part of his family.
Jin Ling has grown up in the bitter shadow of his parents’ murders. He was always a little bit lost in his childhood, and more than a little alone. He directed his resentment at the Yiling Patriarch, and tried to hate him for everything Wei Wuxian had taken from him. He grew up as the nephew of the Chief Cultivator, heir to LanlingJin, and nephew of Sandu Shengshou. But he was still deeply resentful of all the other kids around him for reasons he was never quite able to put into words.
The aching loss of his parents has hollowed out his childhood, and Jin Ling didn’t think he’d ever be able to let it go. How could he, when he would never get his parents or his childhood back? How could he, when Uncle Jiang was always bitterly angry?
He watches the quick glance Uncle Jiang shoots Wei Wuxian, a glance with none of the bitter anger Jin Ling remembers from his childhood, and thinks, maybe.
Jin Ling stands from his chair and straightens his robes. He turns, and his hair swings behind him. He faces the doorway and tries to mentally prepare for his first discussion conference as sect leader when he feels his uncles put a hand on either shoulder.
“You get used to it,” Uncle Jiang offers. As far as advice goes, it’s not very helpful. Jin Ling knows that Jiang Wanyin became a sect leader on the deaths of his parents and all his disciples when he was only two years older than Jin Ling is now, so if anyone would have useful advice, it’d be Uncle Jiang. But Uncle Jiang absolutely hates talking about the past, so Jin Ling is just grateful that Uncle Jiang is dredging up memories of when he was eighteen for him.
“It’s going to be fine,” Uncle Wei says. Jin Ling doesn’t feel even remotely comforted. His uncles are really kind of terrible at it.
“You were always going to be Sect Leader Jin Rulan one day,” Uncle Jiang adds gruffly.
Jin Ling hears a sharp intake of breath from his left and looks up. He realizes now that Wei Wuxian has never heard anyone call him by his courtesy name. Jin Ling decided early on that he hated it and insisted that everyone call him by his personal name, even after the official ceremony. Uncle Jiang encouraged him, and Uncle Jin never expressed an opinion one way or another. When he sees Uncle Wei’s eyes start to water, he considers for the first time who exactly gave him his courtesy name.
He always hated the name Rulan because it had the character Lan in it and Jin Ling didn’t want to be one of those stupid Lans. But now his opinion about the Lans is overlaid by his friends (yes, friends) Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. The Lans aren’t so bad if they can give him Sizhui and Jingyi, he thinks.
“You kept it?” Wei Wuxian sounds like he’s a second from crying.
“Well,” Uncle Jiang mutters, “it’s what she wanted.”
Uncle Wei actually sniffles then and wipes away a few stray tears, which is of course the exact moment that Hanguang-jun returns. Lan Wangji takes one look at his husband and immediately looks ready to murder Jiang Wanyin, who glares back.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian interrupts their glare-off, leaving Jin Ling to wrap his arms around Hanguang-jun. “Did you know they kept Jin Ling’s courtesy name?” He’s clearly smiling one of his happy-with-emotions smiles, because Hanguang-jun stops glaring at Uncle Jiang.
“Jin Rulan,” Uncle Wei says, and there's a slight softening of Lan Wangji's face that tells Jin Ling that he came to the same conclusion Jin Ling did. Then he averts his gaze, because the look they’re sharing is unbearably intimate.
But that answers one question. There’s only one person in Jin Ling’s family who would name him after a Lan, and he’s currently hanging off of Lan Wangji’s arm.
Well, Jin Ling–Jin Rulan–thinks, maybe it’s not such a bad name. He’d share a name with Sizhui and Jingyi that way. Maybe, maybe. Maybe he can grow up without his parents and still be okay. Maybe he already has. It’s because of his sect that all of it happened, anyway. Maybe it’s time to let it go.
Jin Rulan stops himself from messing with the lotus pin in his hair and follows his family out of his rooms and to the conference hall. He might not ever get his parents back, but he’s thankful that the universe decided to give him Wei Wuxian.