Chapter Text
Jiang Cheng wakes from a healing sleep a few hours after his defrosting bath and Wen Qing’s thorough health inspection. He had been given a clean bill of health and a proper scolding from her.
As suspected, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are with him. They aren’t on the bed with him in one of Yanli’s many guest rooms of hers and Zixuan’s palatial Jin estate, but they are seated in a corner of the room. Their hands touching.
Jiang Cheng’s eyes aren’t open. But he can sense them.
Well, that’s fucking weird. Handy, but weird.
He stretches his body, lifting his arms over his head and tensing all his muscles.
“Ah, sleeping beauty awakens.”
“Yesterday you were sleeping beauty.”
Wei Ying grins, sitting on the bed and rubbing Jiang Cheng’s thigh. “We’re such a sharing throuple, trading off who has panic attacks or qi deviations.”
Jiang Cheng groans. “I didn’t think I had enough spiritual energy to even have a qi deviation.”
A disapproving hum resonates through Jiang Cheng’s body as Lan Zhan sits on the bed, her brows furrowed and lips pulled down in the most clear frown he’s ever seen on the man’s fact.
Jiang Cheng lifts an arm, beckoning Lan Zhan. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Not mad.” Lan Zhan shuts his eyes tight, breathing through his pain. “Scared. For you.”
“Come here.” Jiang Cheng tugs him forwards, gripping his arm.
Lan Zhan folds into Jiang Cheng, resting his head on Jiang Cheng’s chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. Jiang Cheng kisses his forehead as Wei Ying rubs Lan Zhan’s back.
His breath hitches and Jiang Cheng holds him tighter, whispering soothing banal words, acknowledging how they expect such constant strength from Lan Zhan all the time. It must be exhausting, and after witnessing not one but both his loves experience harsh episodes causing their bodies to give out, no wonder he’s at his limit.
“Did Lan Qiren say anything else about the soulbond?” Jiang Cheng asks eventually
Wei Ying shakes his head. “He said everything he could tell us you already knew.”
“Do either of you feel different?”
“Hhm,” Wei Ying rubs his nose as he thinks. “When I touched you before the bond, your spiritual energy felt warm and slightly stronger than mine or Lan Zhan’s, but now it feels like a constant low level buzz. But I personally don’t feel any different.”
“I am the same,” Lan Zhan says, not moving from Jiang Cheng’s chest.
This aligns with Jiang Cheng’s thoughts on the matter. “I think, if we were five hundred years in the past, all three of us would be experiencing what I’m experiencing, but due to my heightened spiritual state, I seem to be the only one experiencing the…side effects.”
“Is it hurting you?” Lan Zhan asks, peeking his head up, alarmed.
“No,” Jiang Cheng says emphatically. “It’s like Qiren said, you infused me with your individual energies and now they’ve become something new inside me, they’ve enhanced me.” A childlike glee begins to rise inside him. “Do you know what this means for cultivation as a whole? This could be what we need to bring it back to it’s former glory, someone with enough spiritual energy to unearth the sealed history.”
“No.” Wei Ying says instantly, brooking no argument and cutting directly into Jiang Cheng’s fantasy of winning a nobel prize.
“What? Why? Don’t you want to know more about history? Our ancestors?”
“Yes, but not at your expense,” Wei Ying presses. “I will not let you become some science experiment for the old fuddy duddy cultivators who care more about the past than those in the future.”
“I’m a fuddy duddy cultivator,” Jiang Cheng argues.
Wei Ying grins, smooshing Jiang Cheng’s face as if talking to a child. “You’re our fuddy duddy cultivator, which is why we ask that you be careful with this new…whatever it is. Don’t voluntarily put us through what we went through today.”
Jiang Cheng sighs. “Fine. Make a reasonable argument.”
“Shocking. I know.” They kiss, sweetly and gently, as if Wei Ying is worried he’ll break. “And think of this like a trade-off. I’ve committed to no longer being a self-sacrificing idiot, so you don’t get to be a science experiment.”
Jiang Cheng slaps the covers in exaggerated frustration. “Those two things are completely different.”
Lan Zhan squeezes him, cutting him off. “The same from my view.”
Wei Ying flops onto the bed with them, flinging his leg over Lan Zhan’s body to cradle him. “One more day and this is all over.”
“Still?” Jiang Cheng asks. “I hoped I slept through it.”
“We’re taking a long vacation after this,” Wei Ying insists. “Somewhere warm. With a beach.”
Lan Zhan hums his agreement, having clearly turned into a pumpkin without the power of speech.
“Sounds good.”
Jiang Cheng should let his brain rest. They should eat some dinner then form a cuddle pile so cozy they’ll forget where one person starts and the other ends.
If only his brain would listen.
“A-Ying.”
“Hmm?”
“What did my mother say to you? Are you ok?”
“Yeah. It was fine.” He looks surprised even as he says it. “I was stepping outside to get some fresh air and she was coming back inside. She didn’t track me down. We both said hi. Then she apologized. For everything. She didn’t ask for forgiveness. In fact, she says she has had a lot of time to think over the years, and one of the things she regrets the most is not officially adopting me, keeping me on the outside.”
“What?” Jiang Cheng is appalled.
“Yeah, I was shook when she said it. Also, kind of resentful. I get you’re trying to make amends, but did you need to dangle that carrot in my face.”
“I’m sorry,” he grunts, pissed off at his mother all over again.
“In the end, well, before you rescued me –” Jiang Cheng can hear the sarcasm in that statement a mile away. “She said she was glad that the three of us are together, that she wishes us happiness. That was it.” He takes a deep breath and on a rush of an exhale says, “Don’t be mad but I think you should talk to her.”
“What?!” Jiang Cheng asks, this time outraged. “For what?”
“Closure. You need it, more than any of us, I think. It might feel good.”
“Hearing her say sorry isn’t going to change anything.”
“No, but you might need it anyway.”
“Enough,” with this edict Lan Zhan rises from his position against Jiang Cheng. “You both need to eat. Yanli made soup.”
Jiang Cheng is grateful for the interruption, not knowing how to make the argument that he’d rather eat frozen grass than talk to his mother, especially after his freak out.
And yet.
And yet…Wei Ying looks good. No panic attacks, no lingering nightmares or tension, like the weight has been truly lifted from his shoulders.
He’ll think about it later. He has time.
They spend the evening with A-Li, Zixuan and A-Ling. Jiang Cheng focuses his attention on his nephew, and when A-Li hears Wei Ying try to convince Jiang Cheng to speak to his mother again, she joins in. It’s only when Lan Zhan interrupts their efforts, seeing how tense it makes Jeng Cheng, do they stop.
“It is your choice,” Lan Zhan says as they get into bed. “Closure is good, but only if it benefits you.”
With those words, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, contemplating what he would even say to her. Wondering if he has the strength.
The morning comes too soon. The final day. The funeral.
A-Ling is left with Zixuan’s half sister, Qin Su, for the morning, traveling with them to support his wife. A-Li looks regal, holding her head high, though she has the most and best memories of both her parents, knowing them before Jiang Cheng, before Wei Ying. This day must weigh heavily on her the most.
Dressed in mourning whites, the Jiangs, Zixuan, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangi watch as flames rise from the crematorium tomb. Upon the the completion of the burning, the ashes of Jiang Fengmian will be placed in an amulet commissioned by the family and given to his widow, ensuring his ashes will be protected throughout his journey in the afterlife so that he may be given the opportunity to enter the cycle of reincarnation in peace.
With the ceremony over, and as his mother walks away from the flames, Jiang Cheng watches her go, Wei Ying’s words echoing in his head.
“No time like the present,” he says.
“Do you want us to come with you?” Lan Zhan asks, noticing his intention.
“No. I think I need to do this myself.” He clutches Lan Zhan’s hand briefly. “Stay nearby?”
Lan Zhan smiles proudly. “Always.”
He follows her to a small pond at the center of the ceremonial grounds. In Spring and Summer Jiang Cheng can see this as a peaceful place of contemplation, the elegant leaves of the willow waving in the wind, cherry blossoms landing in the water, painting the landscape pink. There is no life now, only the cold wind and a small bench.
“Can I join you?” he asks as he steps up to the pond’s edge.
She nods hesitantly after a moment.
They stand awkwardly side by side, looking over the pond. His mother doesn’t speak.
“I–” He doesn’t know where to begin. Doesn't know if he should say anything at all. But he’s here now, seeking fucking closure, might as well get through it. “I want to apologize for yelling at you.”
She angles her head toward him. What he can see of her face is hollow, like her insides have been scraped out. “Don’t apologize to me. You know I don’t deserve it.”
Her voice sounds different than he remembers, less pointed.
“Even so, I’m not proud of acting that way.”
Another silence, years of history separating them.
“I know there is nothing I can do to change or make up for what I did,” she says abruptly, the sound almost making him jump. “The past is in the past. I would never presume to ask forgiveness of you.”
“Is this your idea of an apology?” Jiang Cheng scoffs. So Wei Ying deserves an apology but he doesn’t?
“Do you want to hear that from me? Will it make you feel better, hearing me say the words?”
He hesitates, shifting on his feet. “I don’t know. Like you said, it won’t change anything. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying want me to find closure, but to be honest, I don’t think closure is a thing we’ll ever have. Maybe Wei Ying can get there, and I’m happy for him if he can, but I guess I’m too much like you.”
“You are nothing like me,” she says, sounding like her cutting self for the first time. “Nothing. I’m glad you have…those two…to give you what I never could.”
This sucks. It’s so fucking complicated. He knows, logically, that she was ill, and he wants to take that into consideration, but it’s so hard to separate the pain of his memories. It didn’t matter who was ill when he was falling down those stairs, or when she was ripping into Wei Ying with her words and fists. Still, he tries to be the bigger man.
“I know there were extenuating circumstances, that you were ill…”
“No, Jiang Cheng.” her voice is weaker now, almost sad, as though she’s given up. “Don’t try to absolve me of what I have done. I made very specific choices, knowing the risks and potential outcomes. Yes, there were times I was not in control of my actions, but there were others that I was aware.” Her voice drifts on into a whisper. “I was more than aware.”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t think this makes him feel any better, but it does acknowledge what he hoped wasn’t true.
“Did you tell Wei Ying to give me his kidney?” A question he had often thought of after he realized Wei Ying had been the mystery donor. Things had been too quiet from his mother after the transplant surgery and he couldn’t help but wonder.
“No.” She shakes her head, her sleek hair pulled back into an unforgiving bun. “No, he is selfless. You certainly have found a better partner–partners–than your father.”
Jiang Cheng sighs, his hands fisting in his coat pockets. “Do you think things would have been different if he hadn’t been such a spineless prick?”
His mothers scoffs, her annoyance for her husband no less sharp despite his passing. “Who knows. He was hopelessly in love with Wei Changze and that wasn’t going to change.”
A shock runs through his body hearing the name of Wei Ying’s father and not mother.
“What? I thought–”
“Cangse Sanren?” She asks. “No. Your father saw his dear friend in Wei Wuxian. He was haunted by it. What could have been. What I apparently stole from him.” She glances at him from the side of her eye, never fully looking him in the face, and Jiang Cheng can see for the first time that the avoidance stems from shame, not dismissiveness. “You didn’t need his approval. You never did. I wish I was strong enough to see that then.” She pauses before continuing, as if she’s teetering on the edge of something. “You have become a good man.”
The words fly past him like a light breeze, having no effect on him. Words he has waited for his entire life, pushing himself to the brink as a kid with this one goal in mind.
He never needed his father’s approval…true. But he doesn’t need his mother’s approval now.
“I have Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, and A-Jie to thank for that.” Thinking of A-Li reminded him of that bullshit with the CEO yesterday. “You’re supporting her taking over the business, right?”
“She’s been practically running it for years. No one will be able to depose her. My children are strong.” Before he can even start to process that bombshell, she pulls a small box from her coat and holds it out to him, still not looking him in the eyes. “Take it.”
Jiang Cheng carefully accepts the box. It is nothing short of ancient. The box is wooden, with talisman symbols grafted into nearly every edge. Tiny and delicate yet finely carved. The craftsmanship is exceptionable. It must be hundreds of years old. How did his mother come to possess something of this value? It could be worth millions to cultivation collectors. His scholarly mind is instantly enthralled.
He pulls on the lid, but it remains shut tight. “Is there a key?”
“Aren’t you the smart professor?” She asks. “Figure it out.”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t sense any judgment from her, more like curiosity in what he would do next.
With cultivation symbols decorating the borders, this must be some sort of spiritual artifact. He feels along the edges, pleased to find indents where fingers would comfortably rest. Pressing down delicately, he feeds a small amount of his now overabundant spiritual energy into the contraption.
The latch opens.
“It’s a family heirloom,” she says after the box pops open. “Only to be passed on to those who can open the case. I imagined if anyone could, it would be you.”
Laying atop a silk lined cushion sits a ring. Silver with a purple crystal, perfectly polished, as though it hadn’t been sitting trapped for who knows how long. He can’t imagine anyone among his recent ancestors would have had enough spiritual energy to open this box, definitely not anyone since before the industrial age.
“You always said it was useless for me to pursue cultivation…”
She shrugs, “I thought of it like a hobby. Piano or sports. From what I hear you’ve proved me wrong, as is your way. Lan Qiren speaks highly of you and your work.”
“Do you know what it does?” He can’t keep his eyes off it, something in the glittering jewel calling to him.
“You know most of the Jiang records were destroyed during World War II. They were lucky to escape with it. Your father had it appraised by a cultivation scholar years ago who believed it did not originate with the Jiang clan, due to the lack of any lotus symbols, but perhaps from someone who married into the Jiang sect.”
“Fascinating.” He takes the ring from the box, holding it up to the light to examine it closely. Perhaps it is a spiritual tool, one used as a weapon or method to enhance cultivation prowess. Taking a deep breath, he starts to slide it onto his right index finger. He stops, remembering Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s pleas to not be reckless with his new gifts. He pauses, takes a moment to truly inspect the ring, seeking traps or any hint of demonic energy.
Nothing. Feeling more confident in the safety of the item, he slides it completely on his finger.
It fits perfectly. With another deep breath he centers himself, and feeds a small amount of spiritual energy into the ring. When he thinks enough has been expended, he waits with bated breath.
The ring remains inert.
“Even with the new influx of energy I’ve received, it might not be enough,” he admits after a long moment. “What we consider a golden core is miniscule compared to five hundred years ago. It might never be enough.”
“It is yours, regardless.” She pauses considering her next words. “Your father left it to you.”
“I gave up my inheritance.”
“And still, it was explicitly left to you.” She turns on her heel and starts to retreat, pausing as their gazes finally meet. Her eyes are tired, but he can see beyond the years of recovery and illness. Her steel is there, buried deep beneath. Maybe one day it will emerge, not in the toxic burning anguish it presented itself in his childhood, but in a core of strength and conviction.
Even if he had the strength to hope for such a future, to wait for it, Jiang Cheng makes the choice to move on from it, cutting the final chain connecting them.
“Goodbye,” he says, knowing in heart this will probably be the last time they speak.
She nods, her lips thinning, and walks away.
It’s over. Jiang Cheng waits for a feeling of elation, of freedom, of regret. But he feels no different than he did that morning.
And he’s surprised to think that’s ok.
Jiang Cheng closes his lifted fist, observing the dormant ring.
Your father left it to you.
Just as his mother apologizing could not make up for the years of torment, a gift from his father–even one as spectacular as this–will not make up for Jiang Fengmian’s years of ineptitude and apathy.
His brain starts to tip toward darker thoughts as they often do when remembering his father, wondering what his life would have been like with a father who wasn’t stuck in the past and unwilling to see the good things he had right in front of him. Before his thoughts become bitter, a warmth surges through him, bringing him back to earth. A reminder that he has good things in the present.
There’s no point in ruminating on the past or what could have been.
“Ready to go?” Wei Ying asks, taking his hand. “The gang is at the usual spot. We can order all your favorite dim sum.”
“Sounds perfect.” Jiang Cheng lifts Wei Ying’s glove-covered hand and kisses it, a firm press of lips, attempting to share warmth through the leather.
A hand at his waist pulls him back and into a soul searing kiss. Lan Zhan levels him with a searing look. “Afterward we will pack as much of your things as we can and you will come home with us.”
“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng says breathlessly. “Yes.”
“Mm. Good.”
When they get to the car Jiang Cheng adds, “Oh, but we need to change out of these mourning clothes first. No way in hell will Wei Ying eat without spilling something on those white pants and ruining them.”
“I’m not a child, I can eat neatly.”
“You sure?” Jiang Cheng asks dubiously. “Huaisang made these outfits.” A kind gift from a friend who shows his love through his art.
Wei Ying's eyes widen, his mouth forming a little ‘oh’. “Lets stop at your place to change. It’s on the way, anyway.”
“That’s what I thought.”
After a pitstop at Jiang Cheng’s place to change and a short drive to the restaurant, Wei Ying guides Jiang Cheng into their favorite local spot. A cheer rings out from inside as the three of them arrive, rooting Jiang Cheng to the spot. Wei Ying takes it in stride, lifting their hands and indulging in the applause, as if they’ve crossed a marathon finish line.
“It’s about time! When’s the wedding?” Wen Qing calls, one hand cupped next to her mouth and the other around her grinning girlfriend, Luo Qingyang.
The energy from his friend is catching, and Jiang Cheng isn’t even shameless enough to blush. He pulls first Wei Ying and then Lan Zhan down for a kiss, unafraid of showing his loves off. His soulmates.
“Is marrying three people legal?” Wei Ying asks, as if the thought’s never occurred to him before.
“There actually is an old provision for it in cultivation law,” Jiang Cheng offers, taking the chance to share a fun fact from his years of study.
Wen Ning whoops, accompanied by Huaisang opening their fan and dramatically fanning themselves.
A-Ling screams in excitement from his highchair, Zixuan and Yanli each holding up a fat baby hand to join in on the cheers.
“Leave it to you three to finally get together during a fucking wake,” Huaisang says with a wink as they sit down at the large circular table. “Can I paint the three of you in the nude for my next fan series?”
Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. Menace.
Though Jiang Cheng's chagrin quickly evaporates as Lan Zhan grips his hand, his beatific smile imbued with love and satisfaction.
“Wow,” Wen Qing says, watching as Jiang Cheng melts for Lan Zhan. “We have finally found what can make Jiang Cheng look like a goofy teen in love.”
There follows an appropriate amount of roasting from their friends, all giving the trio some version of ‘I told you so’ in regards to their relationship.
It isn’t until they have ordered their first round of dim sum and the drinks have been distributed that Jiang Cheng realizes there are five empty chairs at the table.
“Are we expecting anyone else?”
“Diedie!” A-Yuan’s joyful voice fills the room as he beelines for their table, looking like a puffed up marshmallow in his white winter coat and hat.
Jiang Cheng knows the Lans have an aesthetic, but who puts a five year old in all white? It’s not like he’s part of the mourning.
“A-Yuan!” Wei Ying cries with shocked joy, rising from his chair to pick his son up and spin him around. “My sweet perfect beautiful genius baobei, you’re here! I’ve missed you so much.” Wei Ying proceeds to place a million kisses all over A-Yuan’s face.
Behind A-Yuan are three men and a young boy. Lan Zichen’s eyes get glassy as he observes the scene, his hands gripping Nie Mingjue like a lifeline. Nie Mingjue looks as burly as ever, but it’s his twinkling eyes that give his soft and gooey heart away, tattoos and leather jacket be damned. Meng Yao is the smallest of the group, holding Mo Xuanyu’s hand as they approach, his short hair quaffed into a neat style and his cheeks rosy with mirth.
“Baba!” Wei Ying lifts A-Yuan into Lan Zhan’s arms to be hugged. He sighs deeply, a peaceful happiness blanketing him with his son in his arms.
“Shushu!” Jiang Cheng looks up in surprise as A-Yuan reaches his arms for him. How could he ever deny this little guy? He stands to wrap A-Yuan up, playfully rocking him from side to side, the kid’s legs dangling, his belly laugh filling the space. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, A-Yuan.”
“Are you coming back with us?”
“Of course, but first, we eat!”
“Yay!” Jiang Cheng places him in the empty chair next to him, blushing at Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s obvious sappy faces as they watch Jiang Cheng and A-Yuan together.
“Well, didi,” Lan Huan says as his family of four approach, helping Mo Xuanyu remove his bulky winter clothes. “It seems we have more in common than I thought.” He winks, and the smug elder sibling energy is unbearable.
“Ge…” Lan Zhan sighs miserably, and Jiang Cheng knows what's coming.
“Lan Zichen,” Jiang Yanli pipes up with a knowing look. “I have been telling A-Xian and A-Cheng to stop messing around and get together to complete the circle. I knew Jiang Cheng’s last relationship wouldn’t last.”
“A-Jie!” Jiang Cheng cries, covering his face in embarrassment.
“Get over it Cheng-ge, we elder brothers know best. Always.” Nie Mingjue claps him on the shoulder before hugging his own brother and Wen Ning, then taking his seat.
Meng Yao and Mo Xuanyu nod in Jiang Cheng’s direction, amusement suffusing their very beings.
“Welcome to the family,” Meng Yao says, a conniving twinkle in his eye as he then zeroes in on Wei Ying. “I think the next Lunar New Year celebrations should be at Ihouse, Wei Wuxian. You don’t have the excuse of not having three sets of hands to help with preparation anymore.”
“Ha!” Wei Ying laughs. “I see what you’re doing, and I concede. We’ll alternate hosting things now, fine. Anyway you have to taste Jiang Cheng’s cooking.” He kisses Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “It’s the best.”
“Thanks for volunteering me,” Jiang Cheng says sarcastically.
Wei Ying pouts, his hands in a prayer under his chin. “Please, A-Cheng…for your soulmate?”
Jiang Cheng groans at the obvious manipulation. It works, it totally fucking works. “Fine. Fine. But only to keep you out of the kitchen so none of us are poisoned.
“Brilliant,” Lan Zichen winks again and it isn’t any better this time. “I’m so looking forward to celebrating with our new extended family.” He picks up his glass of oolong tea, and gestures for the rest of the group to do so. “In tragedy, we often are reminded of the things most important to us, of the people in our lives…”
As Lan Zichen continues his impromptu toast, Jiang Cheng leans over to Lan Zhan to ask, “Does your brother always make speeches at casual dinners?”
“He is the spokesperson for the Lan brand. He sometimes has trouble turning it off.”
Jiang Cheng chuckles conspiratorially with his lover, enjoying learning this tidbit about his future brother-in-law.
As the speech concludes, Wei Ying turns to his lovers with his beer held aloft, aiming toward their glasses. Jiang Cheng’s water and Lan Zhan’s tea meet Wei Ying’s glass halfway, clinking in a symphony of unique sounds that come together joyously.
“To new beginnings,” Wei Ying says lovingly. “To soulmates.”
“To us,” Jiang Cheng tags on.
“To forever,” Lan Zhan adds before they all drink with smiles on their lips.
Jiang Cheng has constantly, ever since he heard the word, considered what being better means. He thought it meant being measured by the eyes of his parents and found worthy of their love. He thought it meant pushing himself in school, getting grades higher than Wei Ying, no matter how well he did in his own field. He thought it meant being lovable enough that those around him would no longer leave him.
Lessons learned have taught him that betterment isn’t a goal, it’s a journey. And there is no finish line. There is no being the best. With time, someone will always emerge who is better than you in some way.
All he can do is learn to love himself for what he is and where he is in his life at any given moment. Here, surrounded by those he knows loves him as he is–grumpy, short-tempered, and over-protective–who don’t try to push him to be something he’s not, who love him because of–not in spite of–all his self-perceived faults. Here he sees himself in their eyes, a reflection of who he will always work to be. He will never take their love for granted, but he won’t push himself beyond an invisible boundary to achieve the impossible at his detriment.
Here, among his family, he is better.