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It was strange how quickly Wen Qing became comfortable in Lotus Pier. Strange, because she couldn’t remember the last time she felt truly comfortable somewhere. She had spent much of her childhood in Nightless City, but it had never truly felt like home; she had to be on edge nearly all the time, constantly on guard for the safety of herself and her brother. Then, when war broke out, nowhere was safe. In the eyes of both sides of the war, she was a potential enemy and a traitor, and to allow herself to become comfortable anywhere was to invite danger. And then she was a prisoner of war, and there was no comfort to be found anywhere in the Jin camps.
She had been in Lotus Pier for almost a month now, and the realization that she was beginning to relax startled her every time. She didn’t have to watch her back all the time, nor did she have to watch her tongue. She was safe, her family was safe, and though he might not be alive by a strict definition of the word, her brother was safe too. She realized with a start one day that Lotus Pier had begun to feel like home.
She knew that her comfort there was thanks in large part to Jiang Cheng. She also knew that most people would look at her strangely for thinking of Jiang Cheng as comforting. She would argue that most people simply weren’t paying enough attention.
Prior to meeting him at Cloud Recesses, she had heard of his reputation. Jiang Wanyin, the prideful and short-tempered heir to the Yunmeng Jiang sect, perpetually in the shadow of their talented head disciple. Her first impressions of him in Gusu did not necessarily contradict that reputation; he was prideful, and his temper was on a short fuse, and he did follow Wei Wuxian like a gloomy shadow. But Wen Qing did not learn how to survive under Wen Ruohan’s thumb without developing her observational skills, and as fate continued to throw them together, she learned that wasn’t the whole story.
When Wen Qing treated Jiang Yanli’s fatigue, Jiang Cheng’s gratitude was genuine and more than she’d expected considering she was only doing her duty as a doctor. Whenever Wei Wuxian disappeared or got himself into trouble, Jiang Cheng was irritable, certainly, but he was also vibrating with concern. Watching him and his siblings, Wen Qing felt she understood him. She knew what it was like, to hide your love behind a protective outer shell, only for it to come out sideways through the cracks in a way that seemed mean to those that didn’t understand. She knew her brother understood that she scolded him out of love, and she was sure Jiang Cheng’s siblings understood that about him too. She thought that if his prickly form of caring was ever directed at her, she would be able to read between the lines.
Except, he didn’t turn his prickly care towards her. Jiang Cheng, known for his terrible attitude and sour moods, was nice to her. And it wasn’t out of condescension either. She’d known many men who were nice to her simply because she was a woman, and they expected very little out of her. Jiang Cheng was not one of those men. Jiang Cheng, she realized, was nice to her because he respected and admired her. She almost wanted to laugh at him sometimes, when he stared at her all starry eyed while she tended his wounds or demonstrated her martial skill. Peeling back the prickly outer layers, she found a man that was deeply caring and strangely sweet, if you actually paid attention.
She hadn’t known what to do with this knowledge at first. She wasn’t interested in courting him, and seeking a friendship with him would make things risky for her in Qishan. The massacre at Lotus Pier and all that came after it only solidified her decision to lock away these affectionate assessments of Jiang Cheng. Their lives were on different trajectories, and to linger on these feelings would only end in tragedy.
She would’ve expected the softness to have been beaten out of him by everything that had happened. She knew it would have been beaten out of her, if she were in his shoes. In some ways, he had hardened up. He was harsher, colder, more pragmatic. It fit him, made him seem more mature as a sect leader. And yet, by some strange miracle, she was allowed to see beyond the facade of Jiang Wanyin, sect leader. Hidden beneath those hard layers was a boy that still cared with such an intensity it would someday tear him apart.
For reasons she could not fathom, he shed that shell around her, and trusted her with the soft interior. She did not feel like she should be trusted with this vulnerable core of his person, but to explain why would be to change everything, so she took the vulnerability he handed her and did her best not to shake.
–
Wen Qing was no stranger to nightmares. With all she had lived through, it would be more strange if she had none. Back when her situation was more stable, albeit not good, she dealt with her nightmares through meditation. It was part of her early cultivation practice. She would find somewhere quiet, where she could be alone, and she would meditate until the shreds of her nightmares slipped away and she was able to sleep peacefully.
With the turmoil of war and everything that came after it, peace and solitude became hard to come by, and she fell out of the practice. The horrors that populated her nightmares, however, only multiplied.
Tonight, she was haunted by the field of corpses behind Qiongqi Path. It stretched on forever, dark and endless in every direction. The rain pelted her skin, the flood rising around her knees as she searched for her brother. Body after body was turned over, each more gruesome than the last, but none of them were A-Ning, where was A-Ning?
Finally, she found him, and nausea climbed up her throat as she stared down at her brother's lifeless body. Then suddenly, he lurched into motion, grabbing her arm with a strength he'd never known in life.
“A-jie,” he gurgled, blood clogging his mouth. His eyes were still glassy, devoid of life.
“Don’t talk,” she said, struggling not to sob. “I’ll fix this, I’ll-”
He shook his head, his grip on her arm tightening. “You didn't keep me safe. Jiejie, why did you let this happen?”
He kept pleading with her, asking why she didn't protect him, but it was becoming difficult to hear. The rain poured harder, and she was suddenly struggling to keep her head afloat. Other hands began grabbing her, the dead limbs of all the other cousins and aunts and uncles left mutilated in the ravine, everyone she had failed to save dragging her down, down, until she couldn't breathe-
She woke with a gasp, her chest heaving as she bolted upright. The sound of rain continued to fill her ears, and with how much sweat coated her skin, she almost believed she was caught in the downpour. It took several gasping breaths for her to recognize that the rain was falling on the roof over her head. She was safe, protected from the elements at least, in the sect leader's quarters on Lotus Pier.
As if awoken by her thoughts of him, a dark lump stirred on the bed across the room from her. “A-Qing?” Jiang Cheng mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. The nickname was a recent development. She'd given him permission to use it, feeling strange about using his birth name while he still called her Wen-guniang. Still, she wasn't yet used to hearing it, and she suspected he wasn't yet used to saying it.
“I’m fine,” she said, proud that her voice did not shake. “Go back to sleep.”
He was quiet for long enough that she began to believe he’d done as she asked and fallen back asleep. She tried to take steady breaths. Normally she would go outside to seek solitude, but with how heavy the rain was outside… no, it would be better if she stayed where she was.
A small burst of spiritual power on the other side of the room startled her, but when light filled the room, she realized it had been Jiang Cheng lighting a few of their lanterns. Not many, but just enough to fill the room with a warm glow. She heard him shift in bed, then shuffle to his feet. She didn’t want to look at him, but allowing him to approach from her periphery was worse. Out of the corner of her eye, he was just an anonymous shape, something tall and male and dangerous. But when she turned her head to face him directly, the instinctual fear disappeared at the sight of him, sleep rumpled and groggy, his hair loose and messy around his shoulders and Zidian dormant on his finger.
He rubbed his eyes and pointed at her bed. “Can I sit?”
She wanted to say no. This was already highly unusual for her. Usually, she refused to let anyone see her in a moment of weakness, preferring to hide until she felt strong again. But she had to admit, the soft light in the room was helping her nerves, and seeing him so sleepy and relaxed was calming in a strange way. She nodded and scooted over to give him room.
He sat down next to her, not encroaching too much on her space. Instead, he leaned over and plucked the comb from the little shelf next to her bed. She kept it on her during the day most of the time, tucked into a sleeve or a pocket as a reminder of their promises to each other. At night, though, she kept it at her bedside, and she knew it made him happy to see it. He ran his thumb over its carvings.
“When I was little,” he started, then stopped to clear the sleep out of his throat, “A-jie would always braid my hair when I had nightmares. I’d run straight to her room and no matter what time it was, she’d wake up and comb my hair until I fell asleep.” He looked up at her, fidgeting with the comb. “Can I…?”
Heavens help her, how was she supposed to say no when he asked like that? She nodded and ignored her panicking hindbrain to shuffle around and turn her back to him. She felt him move and for a second all her nerves came to life, screaming danger, danger, never turn your back on anyone, he'll hurt you, don't-
And then the comb made its first gentle stroke through her hair, and she remembered she was safe.
She couldn't remember the last time someone had combed her hair like this. It must have been when she was a child, when her parents were still alive. There was no one in Qishan who would have touched her with this tenderness, aside from maybe her brother, but she had always been too dedicated to being strong for him to invite any gentle gestures her way. She hadn't realized it was something she missed.
Jiang Cheng was quiet while he worked. She suspected he was still too sleepy to hold a conversation. He combed her hair with long, gentle strokes from her scalp to the ends that rested well past her shoulder blades. When he encountered a tangle, he carefully pieced it apart, mindful not to tug too sharply.
When he eventually put down the comb and separated her hair into chunks to braid, her heart rate had finally slowed down from its nervous percussive tempo, now the slow speed she usually associated with meditation. How Jiang Cheng had managed to do this to her, how he managed to calm her more effectively than anyone else ever had, she didn't know. She supposed no one else had ever tried, or been allowed. She could easily imagine this meditative ritual as part of Jiang Cheng's childhood, soothed by his sister's gentle presence as she took care of him. She imagined her braid probably wasn't nearly as neat as whatever Jiang Yanli did, his calloused fingers more used to swordfighting than this kind of delicate work, but the intent was the same.
It took a moment, relaxed as she was, to realize Jiang Cheng's hands had stilled in her hair. She turned her head, careful not to jostle him too much, and had to bite back a laugh. He had fallen asleep right there, sitting up in the middle of braiding. “Jiang Cheng,” she said quietly. When he didn't stir, she turned around more and shook his knee. “Wanyin.”
He jolted awake, and she couldn’t help but smile. The fearsome Sandu Shengshou, and she got to see him blink at her like a sleepy puppy. “Oh,” he said, getting his bearings. “Sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep.” He moved like he intended to finish the braid, but she took charge instead.
With a shove that was firm but not rough, she pushed him back to lay down on the bed. Slightly more alert now, he blinked up at her with confusion clear on his face. “You're tired,” she said, laying down next to him. “Just go back to sleep.”
He was stiff with awkwardness. She couldn't blame him. This was likely the first time he'd been in the same bed as a woman, and it almost certainly not the circumstances he'd imagined. Or maybe he had imagined it like this. He surprised her sometimes. After a minute of laying there rigidly, she huffed and manhandled him until he was on his side, facing her. She took his arm and tugged it across her side, then scooted forward to press against his chest. “You need your sleep,” she said, muffled by his robes. “Doctor's orders.”
That earned her a quiet laugh, and he relaxed, hugging her closer. It was nice, nicer than she expected. He was warm and solid and gave apparently amazing hugs. He fell asleep before her, but only just barely. No more nightmares plagued her that night.
–
“You need a sword,” Jiang Cheng declared one day. He’d marched into the medical office the Jiang healers were graciously sharing with her, gloomy and clearly in need of a distraction. She glanced up at him, in the middle of grinding medical herbs for an elder’s joint pain.
“I’m a doctor,” she said, giving him a look like he was stupid. “I haven’t drawn my sword in years.” Even before it was confiscated from her during the war, she barely used it, except occasionally for travel. She missed it sometimes, simply out of sentimentality for her old spiritual weapon, but she would be lying if she said she was attached to it as most martial cultivators were.
“Still,” he frowned and crossed his arms. Sandu was ever-present at his hip. “You’re a cultivator. A proper cultivator should carry a sword.”
Ah. She understood now. This wasn’t about her. Or rather, it wasn’t only about her. It was about Wei Wuxian.
The relationship between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian was a fragile one these days. Some days, things seemed to be on the mend between them, and she got a front row seat to witness the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng joking and teasing each other like they were still children. Some days, though, when Wei Wuxian was withdrawn and shrouded in resentment, or when Jiang Cheng was on edge and buzzing like a lightning storm, they would fight. It didn’t matter if they were throwing harsh words or fists, the result was always the same. She knew they’d both always been hot-tempered, but based on the concern she saw on their sister’s face, fighting this often was unusual for them.
Since she spent so much time around Jiang Cheng these days, Wen Qing often heard Jiang Cheng’s side of the argument as he vented afterwards. He complained about Wei Wuxian not carrying his sword, not taking sect politics seriously, not carrying his weight as head disciple. He complained about Wei Wuxian drinking all day, preferring the company of ghosts and corpses to the living. Under all the rage, Wen Qing knew what Jiang Cheng’s real issue was: he knew something was wrong, but Wei Wuxian was shutting him out. When Wei Wuxian had crawled out of the Burial Mounds, he’d come back different, and Jiang Cheng didn’t know why.
Wen Qing knew why. She kept her mouth shut and let him take her to the swordsmith.
After speaking with the Jiang sect’s swordsmith about her preferred style of sword and what sort of adornment she wanted on its hilt and sheath, Jiang Cheng led her to the training grounds. “Did you ever have another spiritual weapon?” he asked. Some of the earlier irritability, leftover from an argument with Wei Wuxian undoubtedly, had faded away, replaced by pride as he showed off the skill of his sect’s artisans.
“I had a small flute, but I used it sparingly,” she said. Really, she’d only learned how to use it as a defense against Wen Ruohan’s puppets. “I prefer my needles.” He nodded in understanding. She glanced over and saw him toying with Zidian on his hand. “Zidian was your mother’s, wasn’t it?”
Jiang Cheng’s fist instinctively clenched. “It was,” he said, throat thick with emotion. He raised his hand to examine the serpent coiled around his wrist. “My mother had it recognize me as its owner after her death.” His voice was surprisingly steady, but there was sadness in his eyes. “I had to attune to it again after Baoshan Sanren replaced my core, but otherwise, it’s served me well.”
Wen Qing’s heart sank at the mention of his core. Spiritual weapons were intuitive by nature; if anything were to notice a change in his core, it would be Zidian. That hadn’t been something they’d accounted for, but she was glad it had adapted.
“Why are we in the training grounds?” she asked, eager to change the subject. Jiang Cheng had led them to an empty courtyard, away from where the rest of the disciples were practicing their sword forms.
“I thought if you haven’t used a sword in years, you could do with some practice.” He put Sandu down on a nearby bench. “We can start with hand-to-hand sparring today.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this for my sake?” she asked, watching him shake some tension out of his shoulders. “Or for yours?”
He froze as if caught, then ducked his head in embarrassment. “Lend me some face, Wen-guniang.”
She smiled, charmed despite herself. “If Jiang-zongzhu insists,” she said, bowing lightly.
She had to admit, sparring with him was fun. She’d gotten a little taste of it when she provoked him in that inn, all those years ago. He moved with the swift confidence that defined the Jiang style, regardless of whether he held a sword or not. She was admittedly rather rusty; Jiang Cheng didn’t hold back in a condescending way, which was a relief, but he also didn’t completely overwhelm her, which was also a bit of a relief. When her balance was off or her technique imperfect, he corrected her footwork or demonstrated a better move. He was a surprisingly good teacher; she realized he must have taught many disciples himself, back when he was rebuilding his sect.
It took several rounds before she gained a proper upper hand. He might be the more experienced fighter, but she was an expert in the human body. She was beginning to get a read on him, understanding which moves he tended to lead with. When he took his first big swing, she darted in and jabbed hard at a pressure point that made his knees buckle. He grunted but didn’t get the chance to counterattack, taken by surprise by the underhanded move. She hooked a leg around his and much like she had a few nights ago, she shoved at his chest. This time, she shoved much harder, and he toppled to the ground with a wheeze. She pinned him smugly, bathing in the dazed look on his face after having lost several rounds in a row.
“Wow! What did Jiang Cheng do to deserve that kind of treatment?” They both jolted in surprise and Wen Qing rolled off him to find Wei Wuxian leaning on a pillar outside the courtyard. He was spinning Chenqing on his fingers absently, but there was a grin on his face and his eyes were bright. Not one of his bad days, then. “Qing-jie, I always knew I should be scared of you,” he teased.
“Wei Wuxian.” She stood and helped Jiang Cheng up before facing their new audience. “I hope for your sake we don’t ever end up dueling.”
“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Are you going to join us?” Jiang Cheng asked, crossing his arms. Some of the morning’s irritation had returned to his tone. “When’s the last time you were in the training grounds? Some head disciple you are.”
“Ah, I’ve been busy, that’s all,” Wei Wuxian said evasively. “Your disciples are so skilled, they don’t need my help.”
“You never shied away from bossing them around before.” Jiang Cheng scowled. “Your lazy ass is going to set a bad example for the rest of them. Come on, get down here and show me you haven’t gotten rusty wasting all your time in the taverns.”
“Jiang Cheng, I don’t want to fight you today.” Wei Wuxian sighed dramatically, slumping against his pillar. “I’m too tired. Just watching Qing-jie throw you around wore me out.”
“You-!”
“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing interrupted before Jiang Cheng could start actually shouting at him. “Can I speak with you?”
His fingers stilled in their absent twirling of his flute. “Of course.” He stood up straight, understanding implicitly that she meant in private.
She turned and squeezed Jiang Cheng’s wrist lightly. “I’ll see you for dinner,” she promised. He frowned, mouth tight, but nodded. She joined Wei Wuxian at the low steps outside the courtyard and began following him through Lotus Pier’s halls.
They were both silent for a while. They were walking vaguely in the direction of the Wen clan’s new homes, but intentionally avoiding busy routes to give themselves some privacy. Chenqing was back in Wei Wuxian’s belt, and he had his hands behind his back, tension returning to his shoulders.
“Are you ever going to tell him?” Wen Qing eventually asked once the silence had gone on too long.
“No,” he said. He didn’t need to ask what she was referring to. “What good would it do?”
“It might help him understand,” she said. “He would scold you less.”
Wei Wuxian scoffed. “I can handle a little scolding,” he said, as if she couldn’t see the way this was weighing them both down. “Besides, it’s better if he’s angry at me over these little things. He’d be much angrier if he knew the truth.”
Wen Qing frowned. She tried to imagine what it would be like, keeping a secret this horrible from her own brother. Having to decide whether the truth or the lie was more cruel. She shuddered at the thought. “He’s going to find out at some point.”
“How would he?” Wei Wuxian gave her a careful look out of the corner of his eye. “The only people who know are you, me, and Wen Ning. I’d argue both Wen Ning and I have taken the secret to the grave.”
“That’s not funny,” she said sharply.
“No, I guess it’s not.” They stepped into the courtyard that marked the beginning of the Wen homes, and Wen Yuan immediately sprinted over to them, interrupting their conversation to eagerly babble about how he and Ning-gege had gone frog hunting that afternoon. Wei Wuxian plastered on a smile, scooping Wen Yuan up onto his hip and asking him what kind of frogs he found. Wen Qing bit back a sigh. That conversation went nowhere. Still, she filed it away in her mind and sought out her brother.
–
Wen Qing had only ever been an eldest child, an older sister to a single younger brother. She did not know what it was like to be a younger sibling or to have a sister herself.
Jiang Yanli was determined to change this.
Wen Qing had known Jiang Yanli was a very doting sister; that was very clear from how she treated her brothers. When Wen Qing agreed to this fake engagement, she hadn’t expected Jiang Yanli to direct any of that fondness onto her, but as soon as she landed on Lotus Pier’s docks, she began proving Wen Qing wrong.
Wen Qing was beginning to understand why Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian flew into a rage whenever anyone dared to speak poorly of their sister. It was hard not to feel the same way after spending any prolonged time as the object of her affection. She made good on her offer to assist Wen Qing’s medical practice almost immediately; she did not have medical training, but her experience in the war meant she knew how to dress wounds and keep sites of infection clean. She didn’t know the ingredients to medicines by heart the way Wen Qing did, but her vast cooking knowledge meant she could learn a recipe quickly so long as Wen Qing gave her the instructions first. Just being a helpful nurse, respecting Wen Qing’s expertise in her field, would have been enough to make Wen Qing fond of her.
Then she had to go another level beyond and notice when Wen Qing’s energy flagged or her nerves frayed. It was at this point that she would take Wen Qing’s hands and say, so kindly, “Qing-mei, you’ve been working so hard. Tell me what you like, and I’ll make you dinner tonight.”
At the time, Wen Qing had thought Wei Wuxian was overly rash by picking a fight with Jin Zixuan over Jiang Yanli’s honor. Now, she was beginning to relate.
Now that all their siblings were around (and wasn’t that a thought! She would never take Wen Ning’s presence at her side for granted again), they occasionally had dinner together, all five of them. Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng had their dinners with just each other most nights still, which she enjoyed. She preferred their time together, just the two of them giving each other time to decompress after a long day, but she was coming to enjoy their family dinners too. Recovering Wen Ning’s sense of taste was a work in progress, but he was happy to sit with them anyway, keeping quiet conversation with Wen Qing or Wei Wuxian. Even though he had no need to eat, Jiang Yanli always made a point to serve him a bowl of whatever was most flavorful so he would feel included, and both Wen siblings were grateful beyond words for the gesture.
Most of Jiang Yanli’s attention, however, would be gobbled up by her little brothers. She would take turns doting on them, and whichever one that was not currently receiving her attention was always simultaneously jealous and fond in a way that made Wen Qing scoff. The tension between the brothers might often be tight enough to snap, but their sister’s presence was enough to soothe them, if just for a short while. Wen Qing envied her way of knowing exactly what to say to diffuse Jiang Cheng’s short temper or Wei Wuxian’s darkening moods. Really, she realized, it mostly came down to the fact that neither of them wanted to upset their sister, and Yanli used this to her advantage.
It was clear, even to her as a semi-outsider, just how much all three of them adored each other. Jiang Yanli might be the only one capable of verbalizing it, but they showed it in their actions constantly. They themselves might not even be aware of how much their siblings loved them, but Wen Qing knew.
She had held the evidence of that love in her hands, after all, and stitched the incision closed behind it.
Wen Qing avoided mentioning the massacre of Lotus Pier as a rule. There were too many feelings attached to it, and it was not her place to bring it up.
To her surprise, it was Jiang Yanli who brought it up first.
It was one of Jiang Yanli’s fatigue days, when she had to seek out Wen Qing for medical aid instead of assisting her herself. Her health was generally better than it had been when they were in Cloud Recesses together, her body preferring the humid warmth of Lotus Pier over the chill of Gusu. Even still, her chronic illness still flared on occasion, particularly if she had been overworking herself. Wen Qing refrained from scolding her too much about it, knowing that would only make her a hypocrite.
Wen Qing had just finished her acupuncture treatment and was assembling a tea for her to drink later when Jiang Yanli put a gentle hand on her arm. “I never properly thanked you,” she said. She still looked tired, but some color had returned to her cheeks and her expression was genuine.
“You don’t need to thank me for doing my job, Yanli-jie,” Wen Qing told her, only to be cut off by Jiang Yanli shaking her head.
“I don’t mean for just now. I mean when you took us in, in Yiling.” Jiang Yanli’s words made Wen Qing’s breath catch. Yanli continued, withdrawing her hand. “I know it must have put you in a dangerous position.”
Wen Qing took a steadying breath and resumed putting together her tea. “It was the right thing to do.” It was also terrifying and risky and had consequences far beyond anything she could’ve foreseen, but that went without saying.
Jiang Yanli shook her head. “Without you and your brother’s help, I could have lost A-Xian and A-Cheng. I had just lost my parents, and A-Xian blamed himself, and A-Cheng seemed like he wouldn’t get better…” Wen Qing realized with alarm that Yanli’s lip was wobbling. She did not know if she was the right person to comfort Jiang Yanli. “I was so worried I would lose both of them.” Despite her tears, she devastated Wen Qing with her smile. “Thank you for keeping my family intact. I don’t know if I can ever repay you.”
Wen Qing wanted to tear her hair out. She wanted to scream that she could very well have lost both of them at her hands, that she would not describe the state she’d left their family in as intact, that it didn’t matter if she felt indebted to her when it was Wen Qing’s sect that destroyed Jiang Yanli’s in the first place.
Wen Qing did not say any of these things. She tied the tea sachet closed and pressed it into Jiang Yanli’s hands and told her very seriously, “You do not need to repay me anything. You and your family have done enough.”
Guilt continued to climb its way up her throat.
–
For nearly her whole life, Wen Qing’s nightmares had revolved around her brother. He was the most important person in the world to her, and she worried about him constantly. Her nightmares forced her to watch him be torn from her, be tortured and killed. The only dreams worse than the ones where she was powerless to help were the ones where she was responsible for his pain. He made an appearance in nearly every nightmare she had, almost always the reason for her anguish.
Until, for the first time in recent memory, she had a nightmare about someone else.
It started as a memory. She was knelt on that hilltop, between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian had long since screamed himself hoarse, but he still made a valiant effort to groan his pain through the stick they’d used to gag him. Beside them, Wen Ning sat with Wei Wuxian’s golden core held reverently in his hands, pulsing and glowing with light. Under less dire circumstances, she would’ve jumped at the chance to examine a living golden core, but she had to work fast. She stitched up the gaping hole in Wei Wuxian’s torso as quickly as she could manage while still being safe; she would give him a more thorough treatment later, but for now, she just needed to make sure he wouldn’t bleed to death.
Hands still bloody, she turned to Jiang Cheng.
While the hills had echoed with Wei Wuxian’s screams, Jiang Cheng was silent. He had been for the past three days, ever since she knocked him unconscious. She would be afraid he was dead if not for the slow rise and fall of his chest. With the steady hands of a surgeon, she made her first incision below his solar plexus.
Wei Wuxian’s noises had faded to weak whimpers by the time she turned to take the golden core from her brother’s hands. For just a moment, she allowed herself to marvel at the feeling of it in her hands. It was warm to the touch, and full of life. With incredible care, she began to deposit it into the void left by Jiang Cheng’s destroyed core.
This was where things took a turn. Wei Wuxian had to be kept awake for the procedure, lest they risk damaging his core, but Jiang Cheng they intended to keep unconscious. It was Wei Wuxian’s request, part of the secret he insisted on keeping. And yet, as the golden core that was once Wei Wuxian’s slipped through her fingers into Jiang Cheng’s chest cavity, she found him staring at her, eyes wide open.
“What are you doing?” was all he managed to say before the golden core fell into place and he screamed .
It was a fifty percent chance of success. A fifty percent chance of failure. A cultivator’s core was strong, but it was also so, so fragile. If the body and mind rejected it, the results would be catastrophic.
It was clear he had rejected their gift to him. His eyes were wide and wild, his voice outraged and pained as he screamed. The golden core flared and sputtered like a firework, glowing so bright it burned. Blood from the surgical site and her hands dripped onto the ground and pooled around her knees. All the while, he stared at her, and she watched every emotion fly through his eyes. The vitriolic hatred with which he looked upon her Wen robes. The betrayal. The fear.
Then, nothing. Emptiness.
“Jiang Cheng?” she whispered. Everything around her had faded away. Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning were gone. It was just her, the blood on her hands, and Jiang Cheng’s corpse. She grabbed his shoulder and shook. “Jiang Cheng! Wanyin! A-Cheng, please!”
“A-Qing!” There were hands on her shoulders now, shaking her. She woke with a gasp, disoriented and fearful. It took several seconds for her to register Jiang Cheng’s face in front of her, concerned and full of life. “You’re okay! You’re safe!”
But what about you , she deliriously wanted to ask, despite all the evidence of him being alive right in front of her. She could tell he was fine, from the alertness in his eyes to the strength in his hands on her shoulders to the energy thrumming from his core-
That thought had her smacking his hands away and scooting back from him. If he was hurt by it, she didn’t register it, too caught up in the memory of how that core had felt in her hands, how vibrant it had been and how easy it would have been to crush it between her palms.
“I need some air,” she said, rising to her feet with poorly hidden urgency. Jiang Cheng stood too, watching her put on her boots with concern.
“Should I-”
“No,” she cut him off firmly. Part of her hungered for the way he’d comforted her before, ached for the chance to fall asleep with his heartbeat next to her ear. The rest of her envisioned trying to fall asleep with the humming of his qi as a constant reminder beside her, and she shuddered. “No,” she repeated, softening her tone. “You need your sleep. I’ll be back before morning.”
He seemed hesitant, but he nodded and let her leave with no further protest.
In her time since arriving, she had come to know the layout of Lotus Pier quite well. She let her feet lead her down the smooth wood of its halls and piers, hoping the experience would be grounding. The fresh air helped. Yunmeng was humid during the day, but the air now was comfortably cool. Everything was silent aside from the chirping of crickets and the gentle splash of the lake brushing against the docks.
It didn’t help.
Lotus Pier was beautiful. She understood why the Jiang sect loved their home with such ferocity. And yet her eyes could not help but linger on its scars. The charred remains of a building that had yet to be rebuilt. The uneven colors of the planks under her feet, new wood laid down where the path had been destroyed. Her cousin had come to this beautiful place and seen fit to destroy it. She had heard about his plans when she was in Yiling, and she had done nothing. What could she do? She had her brother to worry about, and her family in Dafan. Any affection for the Jiang clan did not matter against the threat of Wen Ruohan’s wishes. She would choose her family’s safety over anything.
And then her brother arrived with the Jiang siblings and Wei Wuxian half mad with grief, and what could she do? What choice did she have? Perhaps she could claim Wei Wuxian had threatened her at sword point to help them, but she was the one who had held him down and pressed a scalpel to his abdomen.
This cycle of debt and repayment would never end. Wei Wuxian saved her brother from the water demon, and so her kindhearted brother committed treason for him. Wen Qing protected the Jiang siblings and nursed Jiang Cheng back to health, and so Jiang Cheng had risked his political standing to protect her family in return.
And yet, where did the debt fall on that hill in Yiling? Jiang Cheng made his recovery, and yet did not know the cost. Wen Qing had saved him, but it did not feel like a mercy. How could she ever make up for a sacrifice he was not even aware of?
She clutched the railing along the side of one of the boardwalks and stared into the water. Her reflection, featureless in the dim light, stared back up at her.
“A-jie?” Wen Ning’s voice startled her into glancing up. He had somehow sneaked up on her without her notice.
“A-Ning,” she said, proud of how little her voice shook. “Why are you awake?”
“I can’t really sleep anymore,” he gently reminded her. “The Jiang disciples on night watches have been letting me join them. I think they appreciate the help.” His face muscles were too stiff to express himself as well as he once could, but the way he fidgeted with his fingers communicated bashfulness. “It’s the least I could do.”
Again, with the debts. She shut her eyes and allowed herself to indulge in a tired sigh. She turned to face the water again, but her brother was still watching her.
“Why are you awake, jie?”
She didn’t want to answer that. She was silent for a long time, then finally asked, “Why did you save them?” He shouldn’t have even been at Lotus Pier in the first place, but he was not as skilled as she was in putting aside his feelings in favor of pragmatism. She had always carried that burden for him, and so he’d developed the kind of soft heart that came running when he heard that the boy who had been kind to him once might be in danger.
Wen Ning’s fidgeting ceased. “Because it was the right thing to do,” he said, as though it were obvious. “Wei-gongzi asked me to.”
She resisted the urge to snort. “And what about Jiang Wanyin’s core?” she said, the privacy of night giving her the courage to say the words aloud. “Was that the right thing to do? Because Wei Wuxian asked us to?”
“He was dying.” As if it were that simple. “He agreed to have his core replaced, didn’t he?”
“He agreed to the result. He did not agree to the means.” Her thumb dug into a groove on the fence, nail catching painfully on the edge. Her brother fell silent beside her.
“I didn’t agree to be a fierce corpse,” he said, voice quiet. “But Wei-gongzi brought me back anyway. Because you asked him to.” Guilt washed over her like a wave, and she whipped her head around to stare at him with wide eyes. He was giving her a sad smile despite the stiffness of his face. “You didn’t want to lose me. Wei-gongzi didn’t want to lose Jiang-gongzi either. So you helped him, because he asked.”
“A-Ning,” she choked out, her voice breaking on the word. He shook his head.
“Ah, I made it worse, didn’t I?” He looked down at his hands guiltily. “Being a fierce corpse isn’t… good. But it’s better than being dead. I think if he knew, Jiang-gongzi would understand too.”
Wen Qing wasn’t sure if she agreed, but she didn’t dare say it aloud. Instead, she reached out and took Wen Ning’s hand. It was cold and stiff, but when he curled his fingers around hers and squeezed, it felt just the same as always.
They stood and watched the sun rise over the lake together, and Wen Qing thought.
–
Though they predominantly attended to their own work during the day, Wen Qing knew Jiang Cheng’s routine fairly well. She knew that when his schedule allowed it, he preferred to take lunch in his office where people would be less likely to bother him, allowing him to continue working while eating. Keeping this in mind, she knocked on his door when she thought he was most likely almost done eating.
“Come in.” Based on his tone, he was clearly annoyed to be interrupted, but when she stepped inside, the irritation faded from his face. “Wen Qing,” he said, surprised.
“Jiang Cheng,” she greeted him, keeping her expression carefully neutral. “Is now a good time?”
“Sure, sit down.” He gestured to the other side of his desk, and she knelt on the cushion. “Have you eaten?” he asked, nudging a bowl over to her. She nodded. Nerves had prevented her from eating much, but she wasn’t hungry. His eyes flicked over her face, brow pinched. “You didn’t come back to bed this morning,” he said, his tone somewhere between petulant and concerned.
“I met A-Ning while getting fresh air. Jiang-zongzhu does not need to worry about my sleep.” She was still preserving her neutral expression, but he visibly startled at the formal address.
“Right…” he said, his face doing something complicated. “Did you need something?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your protection of my family.” Something anxious twisted uncomfortably in her gut. “Are there any circumstances where you would be unwilling to shelter the Dafan Wen remnants anymore?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, bewildered. “I already gave you my word. I will protect them as my wife’s family.”
“What if you decided you didn’t want me to be your wife? What if something came between us?” Wen Qing pressed, unwilling to give this up. “I need your word that even if you are angry with me, you will not take it out on my family.”
“What-”
“Promise me, Jiang Cheng,” she said, growing desperate. His breath hitched, and he nodded.
“Alright, I promise. As long as they don’t do anything unforgivable or endanger the Jiang sect, they have my protection.” He leaned forward, concerned. “Now will you tell me what this is about?”
She balled her fists on her lap and willed herself to stay strong. “I have not been entirely honest with you.” He frowned, and she continued. “It’s about your core.”
“My core?” Whatever he’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that. “What about my core? You didn’t have anything to do with it. It was replaced by Baoshan Sanren. I thought Wei Wuxian told you his plan.”
“He did tell me his plan. It didn’t involve Baoshan Sanren.” Guilt tied itself into knots in her stomach as she watched bewilderment grow on his face. “I was the one who replaced your core.”
“You?” he exclaimed, dubious. “Why the secrecy? If you knew how to create a new core this whole time, why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know how to create a new core. I still don’t.” She prayed Wei Wuxian would forgive her for this, or at least take some mercy on her. “I transplanted an existing golden core from someone else.”
“Who-” He cut himself off, and her stomach sank. She could see it on his face; he was so close to recognizing the truth, but it was too upsetting. He didn’t dare say it aloud.
“After I knocked you unconscious on that hill in Yiling, I took you up the mountain. With my brother’s help, I operated on you and Wei Wuxian and transplanted his core into you.”
As if subconscious, his hand pressed against his lower dantian. His eyes were wild with emotion. “He agreed to this?”
Under other circumstances, she could’ve laughed. He still didn’t understand how much his brother was willing to sacrifice for him? She was much closer to crying than laughing, though, and she didn’t comment on it. “Whose idea do you think it was?” she snapped instead. “It was my research, but Wei Wuxian was the one who insisted on the procedure. He was the one who came up with the story about Baoshan Sanren, and he was the one who insisted on keeping the truth from you.” She shook her head sadly. “If he had his way, he would die before telling you.”
“Then what changed?” Jiang Cheng’s voice shook with anger, but the tears in his eyes betrayed a conflicting emotion. “Why tell me now?”
“What changed is that you intend to marry me.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I could not bear it if I married you and kept this secret.”
An incoherent noise of outrage ripped out of Jiang Cheng’s throat, and he leapt to his feet. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him!” He was unsteady with emotion, like a wild animal worked up into a frenzy. She rose to her feet, and he whirled on her, shaking. “You’re lying! You have no proof!”
“Why would I lie?” she shouted, nearing her limit. “Why would I intentionally endanger my family with a story like this?” He shook his head furiously, unwilling to accept the truth of her words. “The proof is inside you! If you cannot feel the difference, go find its absence in Wei Wuxian. If you can find any spiritual energy circulating within him, then you can call me a liar. But if there isn’t any, then you know that at least I have told you the truth now.”
His eyes widened, then scrunched as he held back tears. With a miserable, incoherent growl he pushed past her and practically ran out of his office.
She knew without watching him go that he would be running to one of the nearby taverns where Wei Wuxian was fond of wasting his time. Unwilling to witness the surely dramatic public scene the two of them would cause, she didn’t follow. She stood in Jiang Cheng’s office until the lump in her throat resided, and then left Lotus Pier for her family’s settlement.
–
She did her best not to think about Jiang Cheng for the rest of the afternoon, instead occupying herself with her family’s company. Sweet, empathetic little A-Yuan sensed something was wrong, though as a toddler he couldn’t quite conceptualize how to fix it. All he could do was invite her to play with the stuffed animals some of the Jiang aunties gave him. She appreciated the thought.
Popo could also tell something was wrong, but she also knew her granddaughter avoided emotional vulnerability, so she didn’t pry. When Wen Qing asked if she could eat dinner with her that night, she agreed readily, and she set up an additional cot without Wen Qing’s prompting.
Wen Qing was helping Popo clean up after dinner when a knock came at their door. Her heart sank when she found Jiang Cheng on the other side of it.
He looked terrible. Face red and blotchy from an afternoon of crying, complete with burst blood vessels under his eyes. There was a light bruise around his nose that told her Wei Wuxian managed to get a hit in during their altercation. She was sure he probably looked worse; how ironic it was that Wei Wuxian’s core was the one healing Jiang Cheng’s bruises after their fight. Most of all, he was tired and drained. A man who had been pushed past his limit over and over, until he wasn’t sure where the limit was anymore.
“You missed dinner,” he said, slightly accusatory.
“I ate with Popo,” Wen Qing said carefully. As if suddenly remembering she was there, he bowed to her grandmother in greeting, but his focus remained predominantly on Wen Qing.
“Are you not going to sleep in your room tonight?” he asked.
Her mind snagged on the fact that he referred to it as her room. “I wasn’t sure if I still deserved to stay there.”
He scowled, indignant. “I promised, didn’t I? I don’t go back on my promises.” Now who was that snide comment aimed at, she wondered. “Come on, it’s getting late.”
She said goodnight to her grandmother and followed him back to Lotus Pier. He didn’t say a word on their way back, and she didn’t dare break the silence. When they finally arrived at the sect leader’s quarters, he surprised her by skirting around its perimeter to a secluded pavilion that was tucked behind the building. It was private and overlooked the water, and it was often where they took dinners with his siblings. She avoided thinking about how new the wood was.
He sat down heavily at the edge, his legs dangling over the water, and after a beat of hesitation, she took a seat next to him. He was dead eyed as he stared at the lake.
“Why did you do it?” he eventually asked.
She could give him a million reasons. She could take a page out of her brother’s book and say because Wei Wuxian asked. She could blame her scientific curiosity and say because I wanted to know if it would work. She could bring up the neverending exchange of debts between their families and say to make up for the crimes of my sect against yours. “You were dying,” she said instead. “Your wounds were healing fine, but you had no will to live. You were barely eating. I thought…” She trailed off. “As a doctor, it is my duty to make sure my patients survive. I couldn’t just let you die.”
“So you don’t regret it?” He still wasn’t looking at her. He was normally such an expressive man; the flatness in his voice reminded her painfully of the state he’d been in when they’d first brought him back from Lotus Pier.
“I don’t regret saving your life,” she answered honestly. “What I regret is agreeing to hide the truth from you.”
Finally his face crumbled. It was almost a relief when a dry sob lurched out of his throat. “I hate him,” he croaked. “I hate him. Who the fuck does he think he is, making this choice for me when I…” He cut himself off by gritting his teeth. Tears carved angry red tracks down his cheeks. She decided she was going to force him to drink a whole pot of water tonight, for strictly medical reasons. He was surely dehydrated. “I should hate you too.”
A stone sank in her stomach. “I understand if you do.” Dammit, this was why she wanted to sleep at Popo’s. There was no way either of them could sleep comfortably in the same room again.
“All my accomplishments as a sect leader,” he said, grinning bitterly in a way that was completely devoid of any happiness, “And who do I have to thank? My piece of shit shixiong’s golden core, and a Wen doctor.”
She frowned. “Neither of us are responsible for your accomplishments. Wei Wuxian and I were both indisposed when you achieved most of those. You did all of that on your own.”
“Of course.” He scoffed humorlessly. “And so that’s my fault too?”
“That’s not-” She cut herself off with a bitter huff. She had a newfound appreciation for Jiang Yanli’s patience. He was rather infuriating like this. “You can hate us for lying to you and operating on you without your consent. If someone did that to me, I would give up any oath of nonviolence.” He glanced at her, surprised. “But I won’t have you believe we did this for any selfish reason beyond love.”
He stared at her for a long while, then pressed a hand to his face. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Wen-guniang, are you willing to keep another secret?”
For god’s sake, not more of this. She was so tired of secrets. “Don’t make this worse, Wanyin,” she warned.
“How much worse can it get?” He hunched over the edge of the pavilion, staring into the lake’s dark depths. “I never would’ve lost my core in the first place if I hadn’t been saving his stupid ass. If I hadn’t distracted those Wen soldiers, none of this would’ve happened.”
Wen Qing felt dread wash over her like she’d fallen in the lake. “What are you saying?”
“Never mind,” he said abruptly, climbing to his feet. “It’s late, and you barely slept last night. We should go to bed.”
She jumped to her feet and grabbed his wrist before he could get far. “Jiang Cheng, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He avoided her eyes with a guilty scowl. She released his wrist and shook her head incredulously. “You’re both such hypocrites.”
“Hypocrites?” The outrage returned to him like a crackling flame.
“Yes, hypocrites!” She cut him off before he could continue. “You’d both throw yourself in front of a sword for each other, and yet you refuse to understand the same might be done for you!”
“It’s not the same!” Jiang Cheng argued insistently. “He’s just repaying the debt my parents left him, he said so himself!”
Wen Qing decided the next time she saw Wei Wuxian, she was going to stick him with every needle she owned and then throw him in the river. “And you believed him?” When Jiang Cheng faltered, she pressed on. “Have you not considered that perhaps he didn’t want his didi to die?”
“I’m not his-”
Wen Qing threw her hands in the air. “I’m not going to solve your family problems for you. If you want to delude yourself into believing he doesn't love you like family, that’s up to you, but all I know is the expression on Wei Wuxian’s face when he thought you were going to die. It is the same look I saw in the mirror nearly every day after we found A-Ning.” Jiang Cheng stared at her, wide-eyed, so she took advantage of his shock to press two fingers to his lower dantian, exactly where she knew a small surgical scar was. “What we did to A-Ning was horrible. What we did to you was horrible. But you are alive, Jiang Cheng, and that is a miracle. I would do anything if it meant my brother would survive. I know Wei Wuxian would do the same. The Jiang say to achieve the impossible, right? Every time I see A-Ning walking and talking, and every time I see you wield Zidian and Sandu, I know we achieved the impossible, and I know I would do it again.”
Jiang Cheng was stunned. Slowly, he reached down and took her hand away from where his transplanted core gently thrummed. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.” There was a bite of anger in his voice, but she knew enough to hear the sadness it disguised.
“I’m not asking you to.” She shook her head. “I’m only asking you to understand.”
Jiang Cheng scoffed quietly, but he didn’t argue. That was as good as a victory with him. She took a deep breath and centered herself.
“Now. Knowing what you know, are you sure you still want me to share your room?”
She could see the moment he put on his sect leader face. His jaw tightened and the frown on his mouth flattened. “I already told you that if you ever wanted it, we’d build you your own quarters. Until you want that, you’re welcome to stay where you’ve been.”
It wasn’t perfect. It was businesslike, as opposed to the companionable informality he’d been treating her to in the past weeks. But she wasn’t going to be thrown out to the wolves, and her family wasn’t going to be punished for her actions. She would take what she could get.
–
Things were… awkward, for a while. It wasn’t that she was avoiding him. She was just allowing him his space. They kept to their routine; he attended to his business as sect leader, and while she was not officially a sect leader, she still carried out the duties of one for the few remaining Wen under her supervision. The only variation from their routine was dinner, which they both clearly felt awkward about. The first night, Jiang Cheng ate dinner with his sister, claiming it was because she would soon be visiting Lanling again. The second night, Wen Qing claimed it was Popo’s request, and she wouldn’t want to disappoint her grandmother.
They really only lasted two nights like that. Jiang Cheng was the one who finally cracked and sent summons for her.
She met him in his office and found him in his businesslike sect leader mode, reading over a letter. He nodded curtly at her and handed her the letter once she sat down across from him. “Chifeng-zun and Nie Huaisang are planning to visit next week. It’s to investigate the ongoing Jin situation,” he explained, unable to keep the disdain from his voice when he mentioned the Jin.
Wen Qing nodded, understanding immediately. “They’re wanting to see the Wen remnants for themselves. I’ll warn them before the Nie delegation arrives.”
“Nie Mingjue isn’t the biggest fan of the Wen,” Jiang Cheng said with a grimace.
“Neither are you,” she said, though she immediately regretted it. Luckily for her, it earned her a huff that was close to a laugh.
“Well, hopefully he’ll understand that this situation is different. He stands for justice. It’s hard to meet Wen-popo and feel threatened. Besides, Lan Xichen has already done a lot of the hard work of smoothing things over for us, and Nie Huaisang is an old friend. If we’ve got them on our side, the situation will hopefully remain stable.” He drummed his fingers anxiously on the table, avoiding her eyes. “I was wondering if you would still be willing to greet them as my wife.”
“Isn’t that part of the plan?” she asked, worried that she had somehow missed something. “Aren’t we keeping up that lie?”
“Aside from the lie,” he said quickly, glancing up at her. “Are you still willing to be partners? Or was this all because you felt some kind of guilt over-”
“Jiang Cheng.” She cut him off before he could continue to spiral, realizing what this was about. “I did not agree to marry you out of guilt over your core. I agreed to marry you for the safety of my clan, and I agreed to treat you as my partner because I respect you and enjoy your company. I felt guilt over not telling you about your core because I respect you as my partner, and I didn’t want to keep it from you. You deserve honesty, and I wanted to give you that.” A burst of panic flashed through her. “Unless you want to break our partnership now that you know-”
“No!” he interrupted her. “No, I don’t. I hate what you did, and I hate that you didn’t fucking tell me sooner, but,” he sighed, “I can’t hate you. And I can’t hate that bastard Wei Wuxian no matter how much I want to wring his stupid neck.”
Wen Qing’s lip quirked in a smile. “I saw the black eye you gave him. It was quite impressive.” Wei Wuxian was predictably furious with her for revealing their secret, but it was too late now to change anything, so he was more resigned. She might not have been avoiding Jiang Cheng, but Wei Wuxian was definitely avoiding both of them.
“He’s had worse,” Jiang Cheng said with a snort. His mouth then twisted uncomfortably. “Is this why he’s been so… wrong? Ever since Yiling?”
Wen Qing frowned. “The resentful energy certainly doesn’t help.”
Jiang Cheng grimaced and nodded. “We can help manage it, can’t we?”
She raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“Well, you’re the best Wen doctor there is, and I’m his br-” he cut himself off with an awkward cough, “His sect leader. If there’s anyone who can keep the resentful energy from rotting his fucking meridians, it should be us.”
Wen Qing smiled, just a little. “As partners.”
Jiang Cheng gave her a hint of a smile too – one of his rare ones, the ones that softened his hard features into something shy. “Yeah. As partners.”
“Well, Jiang-zongzhu,” she said, returning to business, “It seems we’re on the same page. We’ll meet with the Nie sect next week and show them what the Jin were hiding, and you and I will work together to find a way to prevent your head disciple from losing his mind.” And then, because she was so pleased by how this had gone that she couldn’t resist teasing him, “And we should probably begin planning our wedding.”
His face, which had been rising with hopefulness, immediately fell when she added another thing to his to-do list. “Oh god, the fucking wedding,” he groaned, putting his face in his hands.
She managed to refrain from laughing at him, but it wasn’t easy. She stood and bowed politely instead. “I’ll go see if your sister has any ideas.”
“I’m sure she does,” he muttered. Before she could reach the door, he called out one more time. “Ah, Wen-guniang?” She paused, her hand on the sliding door, and looked back at him. “Will I see you for dinner tonight?”
“Is this part of your continued efforts to bribe me with Yunmeng cuisine?”
“I wouldn’t say bribe-”
“I’ll see you at dinner, A-Cheng.” The way his face flushed at the nickname was more than worth it.
Yanli, of course, had over a decade’s worth of ideas for her baby brother’s wedding, but she wouldn’t let Wen Qing be late to dinner. Their meal together was delicious as always and less awkward than she expected. She went to bed that night with her belly full and the weight on her shoulders was light.
For once, she slept peacefully the whole night through.