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A-Li shared the news one morning over a quiet breakfast.

To his surprise she declined when he offered her the jar of pickled chilies, which she always piled high into her bowl whenever they ate congee. Discovering her delight in spicier fare, Jin Zixuan made every effort to ensure the kitchens provided a resplendence of appropriate seasonings and condiments for her meals.

“They do not currently agree with me,” she said, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Really? But you usually love them?” Jin Zixuan glared at the jar, deeply irritated that the inanimate object lacked the ability to apologize for personally offending his wife.

“Usually,” she agreed. “Though I fear I will be unable to enjoy them for the next eight months at least.”

“That’s very specific,” he said with a frown.

A-Li pinned him with a fond gaze which suggested she found him handsome and also fairly clueless. He frequently struggled with how much he enjoyed this particular expression. “It is.”

Eight months. Surely there wasn’t anything of significance scheduled to happen around then?

They returned to eating in peaceable silence as he tried to puzzle it out. It took rather a bit longer than it probably should have. To be fair, as his wonderful wife surely would be, he stayed up quite late the night before assisting his father with a diplomatic matter.

A full five minutes later, he dropped his spoon and looked up at A-Li, who regarded her own bowl with an impish grin.

“A-Li!” He jumped up and rounded the table. “Really? I… really?!”

She smiled and took his hand to place against her abdomen. “Baba,” she called him.

Jin Zixuan did not exactly pass out, but his vision did go slightly crooked and the next thing he knew he’d knelt beside A-Li with his head in her lap as she ran gentle fingers through his hair, indulgent in ways which never came off as condescending. He sighed against her leg and imagined what life could be a year from now, when they had a child and everything in the world was perfect.

He needed to get her a gift to show his admiration and appreciation of her.

The decision immediately filled him with cold dread.

The thing of it was: Jin Zixuan did not enjoy the giving of gifts.

Perhaps it came from long years of watching his father attempt to appease his mother’s anger with pretty baubles and useless trinkets. Any argument would ultimately result in a new piece of jewelry for his mother. While it took him years to understand the significance of such things, once he began associating gifts with shame and never managed to overcome the impression.

It made finding ways to celebrate his wonderful, perfect wife terribly difficult.

“You did use up your best idea on the lotus pond,” Luo Qingyang nodded sagely when he told her of the problem.

“I know,” he moaned into his sleeve. It had been a singular stroke of genius, and he doubted lightning was going to strike the same place twice. He peeked out from beneath the heavy drape of gold cloth. “Maybe a second lotus pond?” Luo Qingyang appeared unimpressed and he groaned again. “What am I supposed to do? Whenever I ask her if she wants anything, she smiles and tells me she has everything she needs.”

“Well.”

He perked up. “You have an idea?”

“Yes…”

Luo Qingyang, never one for mincing words, seemed surprisingly hesitant to give her suggestion voice. He braced himself for something he would doubtless hate, as the only reason for her hesitancy had to be the fact it would be horribly embarrassing for him. He’d do it anyway, of course. He suspected allowing himself to be horribly embarrassed to be the only reason A-Li agreed to marry him in the first place.

“The only thing Yanli-jie wants, more than anything else in the entire world, is Wei Wuxian restored to her.”

Jin Zixuan straightened and Luo Qingyang winced back as though waiting to be dealt a blow.

“What an amazing idea!”

Luo Qingyang blinked and peered at him. “You hate Wei Wuxian.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re right—it would make A-Li so happy.” His brow furrowed. “The problem is figuring out how to make him give up his army and his demonic cultivation.” Because despite Wei Wuxian’s abrasive personality doubtless always being cause for offense, without those two key factors he could fade into obscurity as Jin Zixuan’s lamentable brother-in-law, his name trotted out only in casual conversation and only then to fish for details on whatever scandal he’d recently brewed.

Two hours later, and they were no closer in determining a course of action to redeem the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. Ideas were presented and dismissed as ‘unreasonable’ or ‘impossible’ or ‘Zixuan, with everything you know of Wei-gongzi do you actually think there’s a chance in hell of him taking that lying down?’

At the end of the day, they decided better strategic minds than his would have to take the reins.

"Your brother is good at strategy," Luo Qingyang pointed out.

"My…" It took him a minute. Once again: late night, and only a year since he'd officially been permitted to acknowledge the aforementioned brother in the first place. "You mean Guangyao?"

Luo Qingyang shrugged. "We've exhausted our own ideas."

Fair. Jin Zixuan bid Luo Qingyang good day and went in search of his half-brother.

Fortunately, at this time of day, it was easy to track him down. Their father frequently called for his assistance in scribing around midday, and Jin Zixuan managed to arrive in time to catch him as he left their father’s receiving room.

“Guangyao,” he called, the name falling awkwardly from his mouth.

Jin Guangyao looked up and, for only a moment, profound exhaustion flashed across his face. The expression vanished quickly as morning mist, replaced by his usual unfailingly polite smile. “Good morning. How can I be of assistance?”

Jin Zixuan almost blurted out the entire scheme, pausing only at the last moment. Maybe because he’d caught the glimpse beneath the polite mask his half-brother continuously employed. Maybe because Jin Guangyao correctly assumed he wanted something. Everyone wanted something of him since he’d been legitimized. To the best of Jin Zixuan’s knowledge, the only person who offered Jin Guangyao a friendship free of obligation was Zewu-jun.

“…how are you settling in?” he asked instead. He winced as he said it.

Jin Guangyao did him the honour of not cringing in secondhand embarrassment. “I have been in Koi Tower for over a year now, Jin-gongzi. I consider myself well-settled.”

“Good. That’s. Very good.”

Jin Guangyao blinked expectantly. Jin Zixuan had no idea how he knew the blink to be expectant, only that the expression conveyed a vaguely anticipatory air.

“I’d appreciate your advice. And your help. If you have the time and inclination to provide it.”

“Of course, Jin-gongzi. However I can be of assistance to the sect heir, it will be my honour.”

Jin Zixuan suddenly realized how much he hated being addressed in such a way by a member of his own family. He’d discovered himself to be an elder sibling years ago, yet only now found the opportunity to actually behave as one. He envied A-Li’s ability to cherish her own brothers with unshakable love and kindness. He did not know himself capable of being as good as his wife, but perhaps it was high time he made the attempt.

“Won’t you call me brother?” Jin Zixuan blurted. Jin Guangyao’s smile froze, his eyes betraying a sudden sweep of (frankly unnecessary) panic. “I understand Chifeng-zun and Zewu-jun have truly earned your love and respect as your sworn brothers and I want the opportunity to do the same. Please.”

“I…” Obviously flummoxed, Jin Guangyao’s jaw worked behind closed lips as he silently prepared his response. “Yes. I think I would like that?” He sounded uncertain. Just as well; Jin Zixuan felt terribly uncertain himself.

“Good. Guangyao. A-Yao,” he corrected. His brother’s smile suddenly seemed marginally more sincere. “I need your help redeeming Wei Wuxian and his reputation to return him to a position of respectability among the sects.”

Jin Guangyao’s receding panic immediately intensified and his smile became incapable of hiding it. Jin Zixuan didn’t blame him; Wei Wuxian’s ability to command resentful energy surely led to no small amount of panic in all of them. Jin Zixuan believed it to be the crux of the problem.

“I will humbly admit this is not the most convenient of requests,” Jin Guangyao stated with a nearly imperceptible wince.

“I’ll appreciate any insight you can provide. It would mean quite a bit to A-Li for her to be reunited with him.”

“Ah. I wondered where the sudden interest came from. I will consider options as to what can be done.”

He did not sound hopeful, but he doubted anyone in the world would be particularly enthusiastic when undertaking such a task.

A-Yao’s eyes flickered towards their father’s receiving room door. “Perhaps in return my brother might be willing to help this A-Yao with a problem?”

“Anything,” Jin Zixuan replied.

All the carefully won sincerity fled, replaced once again with a bland mask, as though A-Yao were already bracing himself for rejection. “My mother is still contractually bound to the brothel—”

“You have not bought it out yet?” Jin Zixuan asked. He’d assumed… as A-Yao said, he’d been legitimized for over a year. Surely this must have been one of his priorities?

“I have been roundly informed that sect funds must not be used for such ignoble purpose, and I have not yet managed to raise the funds personally.”

That wasn’t right. “That’s not right,” Jin Zixuan stated. “Shall we go now?”

His prior confusion paled in comparison. A-Yao now stood utterly flabbergasted before him. “Yes. Please. I do not wish her to wait another moment.”

“All right. Let me go retrieve my extra purse.”

“Thank you,” A-Yao whispered. He hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on Jin Zixuan’s arm. “Brother. Xuan-ge. Thank you.”

Feeling they were heading in the right direction, at long last, Jin Zixuan covered A-Yao’s hand with his own, squeezed, and then set off back towards his rooms.

The dawning horror began once they reached Yunping and an unfortunately familiar building came into view, just as it existed in his memories. The brothel’s red lanterns swayed in the cool evening breeze, one of the ones furthest from the door sporting a tiny rip in the bottom right side, nearly imperceptible. He only noticed because the first time his father had brought him here, he’d been desperate to look anywhere except the front door.

“It is important to learn how to be a man,” his father told him. “And I know the perfect woman for it.”

Please do not let this be how I think it is, Jin Zixuan begged the universe, already suspecting the request to be futile.

At his side, A-Yao shifted uneasily. “If you’ve changed your mind, Xuan-ge, I will understand.” He sounded painfully resigned. Had their father managed to instill the expectations of such cruelty? Dangling promises in front of him and then snatching them away? Or had it been ingrained in him during his time undercover during the Sunshot Campaign? Before then?

“No! Of course not. Come. Let’s go inside.”

A-Yao, naturally, navigated the space smoothly and without the slightest falter in his steps. Jin Zixuan could not say the same, determined to keep his eyes aimed at his feet and exactly nowhere else. As a respectable brothel, nothing licentious occurred in public spaces, but even putting a foot inside felt a betrayal of A-Li.

Quickly locating the Madam, A-Yao fell into a fierce yet quiet conversation, which seemed largely one-sided. Jin Zixuan tried not to listen in; it felt disrespectful.

Finally, A-Yao snapped, at no little volume, “You’re quoting a frankly ridiculous price considering the already substantial length of her service.”

“I set the price at Jin-zongzhu’s request,” the Madam replied.

A-Yao’s mouth fell open in shock and deep betrayal. “He did what?” The words, shaky and uncertain, drew themselves from a broken heart.

For the first time since the beginning of their acquaintance, Jin Zixuan found himself reminded that A-Yao was the younger of the two of them. His mouth tightened into an unhappy line. He did not understand his father’s motivation.

“How much?” he interrupted, rather than allow the ‘discussion’ to continue.

A-Yao named the price. While it sounded substantial, he wasn’t about to disrespect his brother’s mother by haggling for her freedom. He pulled out both his purses and handed them over. A-Yao, the Madam, and everyone within earshot who’d been unsubtly eavesdropping, all boggled at him.

“Please consider anything over and above the named amount payment for whatever items she wishes to bring along.”

“Surely, gongzi, you will wish to speak with your sect leader before laying down such an amount?” the Madam asked, staring fixedly at the purses embroidered with peony heraldry.

“Not at all.”

The Madam went to fetch the contract, and handed it to Jin Zixuan. A-Yao stared at where his fingers wrapped around it, trying to burn holes through his hands, until he passed it over. A-Yao took it with shaking hands and hugged it tight against his chest. Jin Zixuan contemplated offering his own arms up for his own embrace, contenting himself with an amiable clap on the back at the last moment. Frankly, with A-Yao shuddering as though a single friendly touch would break him apart, Jin Zixuan worried the brief press of his palm would prove too much.

A-Yao forced himself to rights and grabbed Jin Zixuan’s arm to drag him out of the main room and down one of the nearby hallways. Jin Zixuan had never seen him this discomposed before; his brother’s grip tightened with each step. The growing dread, temporarily assuaged by spending money, rebuilt itself fortress-strong in his stomach until he feared his soul would flee his body entirely, especially when A-Yao finally opened one of the doors and pulled him inside. The woman in the room was painfully familiar, and Jin Zixuan spared a moment to think very unfilial thoughts regarding his father.

A-Yao threw his arms around the woman and squeezed her in a tight embrace.

“A-Yao,” she whispered. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Lanling.”

“I came for you,” he replied. “I always told you I would.”

She stroked his face beneath the brim of his hat until he took it off altogether to let her touch his hair. It made him look smaller and at the same time more like himself instead of the person Jin Zixuan suspected their father wished him to be.

“Xuan-ge,” A-Yao said, “This is my mother, Meng Shi.”

“We’ve met,” Jin Zixuan said faintly. ‘Met’ seemed a generous assessment of the bare moment he’d stepped foot in her room once ten years prior and before abruptly turning and running right back out.

A-Yao’s gaze froze into something vaguely murderous. “Have you?”

“A-Yao,” Meng Shi said reprovingly. “Nothing happened. Your father…” The two of them shared a wordless conversation and A-Yao finally nodded unhappily.

“Understood,” he said.

“I am glad to see you both. May I serve you tea?” She gestured elegantly to a tea service Jin Zixuan vaguely recognized as being from one of the cheaper merchants in Koi Tower. Numerous objects in the room struck him as the same; made with all the appearance of value until held up to closer inspection, especially those decorated with peonies.

“You may not,” A-Yao told her. Jin Zixuan found himself surprised to recognize the various flavours of A-Yao’s smiles; this one by far the most genuine he’d ever seen from his younger brother. “This is not a social call. Xuan-ge has bought out your contract.”

She took a shaky breath. “Will Sect Leader Jin approve?”

“I’m sorry he did not send for you himself,” A-Yao said.

“Don’t despair, my love, I came to terms with the fact he had no such plans long ago.” Her mouth tilted up weakly at the corners, making the resemblance between them even more obvious. “Wherever I go from here, it will not be with a broken heart.”

“Please return with me to Lanling.”

“To Koi Tower,” Jin Zixuan interjected. They both gaped in surprise. He coughed uncomfortably at the shared scrutiny and turned his gaze towards the lavish bolts of cloth draped across the room’s northern corner. “I’ve asked A-Li to have rooms prepared as befits the mother of one of the sons of Jin Guangshan.”

They shared the bemused look which he enjoyed from A-Li. He found it less endearing from others, as it turned out.

“You should think on this further, Xuan-ge,” A-Yao said quietly. “I do not believe Jin-furen will agree with this decision.”

“I will address my mother.” A-Li would address his mother, at least, as doubtless she would find means to explain this in such a way to circumvent his mother’s abrupt qi deviation. “Please pack anything you care to bring for your immediate comfort. I will make arrangements for the transportation of whatever is left.”

Meng Shi’s jaw wobbled. A-Yao grabbed her hand in a white-knuckled grip. “Thank you.” Her voice did not shake and she tilted up her chin with the dignity many sect leaders could never in their lives hope to emulate.

“I’ll help you pack,” A-Yao offered. “Once you’ve been situated, I would very much like for you to meet a young lady of my acquaintance. Qin Su. She is charming and a respectable match and I feel you will approve of her.”

Meng Shi’s face fell. “Ah, my love, I feel I should tell you something your father once let slip in a weak moment…”

Before Jin Zixuan overheard any confidences, he stepped into the hallway to give them their privacy.

He started to fear he’d been sporting a rather naïvely optimistic impression of his father’s character. He already found it challenging to overlook ‘indiscretions,’ as his father referred to them. With each passing day, as he grew older and (questionably) wiser he’d begun suspecting that Koi Tower wasn’t the pinnacle of golden perfection he’d always assumed.

Things did not go over well with his mother. Horrible, icy silence followed his announcement, her entire body shaking with the force of her rage. Jin Zixuan didn’t often have cause firsthand to recall his mother, a dear friend and contemporary of the Violet Spider, possessed a subtly violent temper. If she owned a spiritual weapon such as Zidian, no doubt he’d already have been nursing his wounds.

As always, A-Li proved utterly invaluable. Years of experience in dealing with her own… excitable side of the family gave her all the strategy needed to smooth ruffled feathers and help coax his mother to calm. She provided tea and gentle words, easing his mother into the idea better than Jin Zixuan might manage. For all his mother absolutely despised A-Yao as a physical reminder of his father’s questionably honourable habits, she loved A-Li enough to at least give the appearance of accommodation. He doubted she would ever conciliate herself to the presence of A-Yao and Meng Shi, but she no longer looked prepared to have them both whipped and driven into the wilderness.

Her righteous fury paled in comparison to how his father took the news.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” Jin Guangshan raged. In private, thankfully, with only Jin Zixuan in attendance. “How dare you do something this outrageous! So unfilial! That woman is not welcome in Koi Tower now or ever, and I demand her expulsion.”

“She is Guangyao’s mother—”

“She’s a whore.”

“Not any longer.”

He fumed, “Since my son is being unreasonable, I shall take care of this matter myself!”

Jin Zixuan recoiled at the sudden image of Meng Shi being thrown down the Koi Tower steps. Not interceding when his father did the same to A-Yao remained a point of shame for him, even despite being barely old enough to speak up in opposition to his father’s unexpected cruelty.

“You are tired,” he said, standing. His father blinked at him in shock. “May I escort you to your room to lie down?” While he honoured and respected his father, he could no longer let such feelings outweigh his integrity.

“You dare…?”

“I only care for your heart and welfare. Please put Meng Shi from your mind, and do not trouble yourself. I shall ensure your paths do not cross, and you will not be inconvenienced by her presence.”

“Inconvenienced… Her very existence is an inconvenience!”

Then perhaps you should not have become involved with her, Jin Zixuan thought, then immediately chastised himself. It was not his place to criticize Jin Guangshan, even silently.

Jin Guangshan growled and thundered the entire way back to his room. Once Jin Zixuan dropped him off, he allowed for a moment to breathe before he realized himself to be the subject of silent scrutiny. A-Yao hovered in the shadows cast by the late afternoon light, tucked into a narrow byway between the sect leader’s suite of rooms and the nearest servant’s quarters.

“A-Yao,” he said. “Is your mother doing well?”

“Jiang Yanli has been unfailingly attentive,” A-Yao nodded. His voice sounded worryingly faint as he easily fell into step with Jin Zixuan.

“I believe she asked you to call her jie,” Jin Zixuan reminded him. In fact, A-Li seemed determined to do everything short of bundling A-Yao up in a blanket and force-feeding him soup in order to encourage him to do so. If he didn't cave within the next week, it would likely be her next step.

“Ah. Jin-furen reminded me of the importance of remembering my place.”

“Your place as my brother is not a subject for debate.”

A-Yao turned a frown on him. “I don’t understand you,” A-Yao told him. “And it is beginning to frustrate me.”

Jin Zixuan carefully refused to admit he likewise often found himself frustrated by a lack of understanding. As the elder brother, it behooved him to present himself as assiduously confident.

A-Yao continued. “If this is just about Wei Wuxian, you needn’t have arranged for my mother’s freedom. No one would have blamed you for refusing my request, and your father wouldn’t be angry with you.”

“I would have blamed me,” Jin Zixuan told him. “I spent quite a bit of time wilfully blind to the feelings of others.” He’d hurt A-Li, and for all he despaired whenever Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin reminded him of the fact, he took it as his due and a reminder to be better. “I do not wish to repeat the mistakes.”

A-Yao pondered this as they passed through one of the innumerable gardens, rounding a koi pond and making their way to their homes.

“I have been examining the records from Qiongqi Pass,” A-Yao told him as they neared their rooms. “There are a number of discrepancies with the accounts I find troubling.”

“What sort of discrepancies?”

A-Yao’s mouth thinned into a worried line. “Whether or not there were cultivators being kept there in significant numbers is in doubt.”

“Zixun should be able to confirm any details.”

“Ah. Yes. Xuan-ge, my concerns stem from the reports written in his own hand.” A-Yao produced a sheaf of papers from his sleeve. “Perhaps you might review them? This way I can be assured a keener mind than my own has vetted my findings appropriately.”

Jin Zixuan’s chest puffed out a bit before he recognized the words as flattery. Not a single subject existed in academia in which A-Yao did not outstrip him. He’d found it terribly infuriating when he’d been younger, and rumours came out of Qinghe about the capabilities and intelligence of Chifeng-zun’s vice-general. How dare, he’d thought, this bastard outshine me. Those same days he’d viewed Jiang Yanli as an insipid shackle binding him in place and preventing any chance at future happiness. Thank goodness they’d both seen fit to forgive him.

“I can look, A-Yao, but if there’s a discrepancy to be noted, you will be the one to find it.” He frowned. “I wonder how Zixun made such a mistake.”

“Xuan-ge,” A-Yao said gently, “I think we both know the answer.”

Jin Zixuan paused in front of his door. “If there is anything untoward, we will uncover it and bring those responsible to account.”

A-Yao nodded and retreated.

A month later, his father in exile and his cousin in chains, Jin Zixuan found himself no closer to figuring out how to redeem Wei Wuxian, and found himself with far less time to devote to the exercise, having assumed the title of Jin-zongzhu.

Once he got over the shock of it all, the situation proved incredibly inconvenient. He only wanted to do something nice for his wife. Especially since her distaste for her favourite chilies now extended to anything pickled.

(His advisors, with the notable exception of A-Yao, had tried to inform him he had other priorities. They, however, had not witnessed A-Li bursting into tears the other day for no reason when she spotted a young boy holding a kitten.)

A solution accidentally suggested itself when he received a letter asking about his newly minted Head Disciple’s marriage prospects (the previous holder of the position still in aforementioned chains and, as quickly became apparent, not terribly effective in his former role.)

“Sect Leader Yao wants to marry you,” Jin Zixuan said.

Luo Qingyang did not spit her tea out across the table, which he considered to be an extraordinary feat of self-restraint. “Why?”

“He claims as a second wife, you will serve to bind our sects closer together, and with my father banished for his crimes I am in need of a guiding hand which he feels he can surely provide.” If he wished to be generous, he’d view it as a kind offer. In light of everything which had transpired over the past month he found his generosity waning.

“Can I see?” Luo Qingyang asked. Jin Zixuan gamely handed over the letter, which she didn’t bother reading before tossing it into the nearest lit brazier. “I’d rather marry something that crawled out of the Burial Mounds.”

Like the idea for A-Li’s lotus pond, the answer came to him in a moment of clarity which would surely be the envy of every guqin player in Gusu.

He barely heard her ideas for the revised training regime, eager to go and seek out A-Yao. He agreed blindly to what was surely an excellent recommendation and took off as soon as possible without being rude.

“A-Yao, I’ve had an idea!” Jin Zixuan declared, entering his brother’s receiving room. A-Yao and Zewu-jun shifted their attention from the twin guqins settled down between them. “Zewu-jun, please pardon the interruption.”

“Not at all. I know I am taking a valuable advisor away from his duties,” Zewu-jun said, the epitome of graciousness.

It pleased him when others acknowledged A-Yao as, by and far, his most effective advisor. (A-Li remained his most trusted, for obvious reasons, and he suspected from the amount of work conspicuously disappearing from his unending pile of pending tasks that they colluded to keep him from running himself ragged. Truly the benefits of marriage and brotherhood were unending.)

“I won’t take long,” he promised. “Here is my thought: if we arrange marriages into respectable sects for the cultivators living in the Burial Mounds, we will ensure no one doubts their loyalty.”

A-Yao’s brow furrowed. “I will admit, Xuan-ge, it is a very good idea.”

Jin Zixuan did not quite preen, despite such an inclination being natural and appropriate. Then he frowned. “The trick of it is, who would marry Wei Wuxian?”

Zewu-jun’s mouth opened and closed, clearly as perplexed by the conundrum as Jin Zixuan himself. He’d wracked his brain the entire walk here and no one came to mind who might reasonably deign to weather such a trying ordeal. It would have to be someone capable of helping him return to the righteous path. Who would not take advantage of his knowledge of demonic cultivation to further their own ends. Someone close to one of the great sects to make sure he always kept respectable company and encouraged him to behave. Preferably someone who tolerated him as a person, though such people surely must be few and far between...

Jin Zixuan brightened as the obvious answer came to him. “A-Yao, would you be willing?”

A-Yao and Zewu-jun both paled and glanced at one another for a single heartbeat before quickly turning away. “If my sect leader commands it,” A-Yao whispered.

Jin Zixuan found himself experiencing an ‘aha’ moment of such force it nearly ripped his soul out of his body. “No. No, no, no. A-Yao. No. I won’t dictate to you if your heart is engaged elsewhere.” He carefully Did Not Look At Zewu-jun. Not that he had to in order to notice the relieved slump of the other man’s shoulders. “It only means we’ll have to think of an equally trustworthy candidate. Perhaps Nie Huaisang? They always got on well at Cloud Recesses. Or Mianmian!” He should have thought of Mianmian in the first place! She’d practically suggested it herself!

“Respectfully,” Zewu-jun said, “May I suggest an alternative?”

It took the three of them several hours to work out the particulars and send out carefully-worded missives to certain other sect leaders in order to obtain their approval. Happily, by the end of the day they seemed to have a workable plan of action.

Before he left to go seek out A-Li for a late dinner, A-Yao called for him one last time. “Xuan-ge,” A-Yao cast a worried gaze towards Zewu-jun, who nodded in encouragement. “I have a confession regarding my involvement with the camps.”

Jin Zixuan immediately sobered. A-Li had been helping him prepare for this conversation ever since she’d put her own eyes on the records A-Yao presented and pointed out a few inexplicable discrepancies for which even his cousin’s incompetence did not account. They’d both hoped A-Yao would be the one to bring it up, and agreed not to push him. “There’s nothing to worry about, A-Yao.”

“The things I’ve done—”

“What a person might force themselves to do to win the approval of a sect leader when newly legitimized, or when their position in a sect is in doubt, may compromise their integrity.” His cousin had no excuse, not the same way A-Yao did. While there always existed a danger in refusing a sect leader’s orders, Zixun always enjoyed the position of being Jin Zixun’s personal favourite. The repercussions would have been substantially less severe. He placed his hand on A-Yao’s shoulder. “I promise I will never demand anything like that from you.”

Tears sprung to A-Yao’s eyes and he abruptly turned away. “Where we were, er-ge?” he choked out. “I want to make sure I am playing this correctly for da-ge.”

Nodding to himself, Jin Zixuan went in search of his wife.

Upon his arrival in Yiling a few weeks later, he couldn’t claim to have missed much by failing to visit the Burial Mounds before. Yiling itself proved dismal and unwelcoming, yet nothing in comparison to the chill running down his spine as he approached the reported entrance to Wei Wuxian’s holdout in the cursed land.

He only began wondering how he’d be able to circumvent the impressive wards when he came face-to-face with the imposing figure of Hanguang-jun exiting.

They both stopped to stare at one another, the tense silence quickly fading to awkward as the basic tenets of protocol drilled into their every action since toddlerhood fled them both.

Finally, he managed a blustering, “Hanguang-jun.”

“Jin-zongzhu,” Hanguang-jun returned, equally quickly.

They fell back into silence for only a moment before hastily bowing to one another and parting—Hanguang-jun towards Yiling proper, and Jin Zixuan past the slowly-closing wards.

He only just reached the outskirts of what appeared to be a struggling settlement when he came under attack. A heavy weight flung against his leg, surely with the intention of breaking his femur and feasting upon his succulent marrow. He issued a terribly manly shriek of terror, which the corrupted creature of evil replied with a… giggle?

Ah. It was a child. Hopefully the Burial Mounds had room for one more corpse with respect to Jin Zixuan’s imminent death via mortification.

Worse, it appeared to be Wei Wuxian’s child, judging from the way the demonic cultivator stormed towards him in a furious snit. Wen Qing trailed close behind him, much more phlegmatic and yet also apparently confused by the quizzical tilt to her brow.

“Gold-gege,” the toddler declared.

“You are a small child,” Jin Zixuan replied with no little sense of wonder. A-Li would be thrilled by this development.

“He is A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian corrected, scooping the little boy up into his arms and settling him with such effortless ease on his hip Jin Zixuan spared a moment for petty jealousy. He’d never gotten the hang of children, and he now only had six months to prepare for his own. Jin Zixuan forced down the justifiable terror at the reminder. “What are you doing here, Peacock?”

Jin Zixuan’s eye twitched. He’d hoped rather than expected Wei Wuxian to have decided upon a different nickname now he’d married A-Li. He’d been tirelessly working to convince Jiang Wanyin the occasional fond ‘jiefu’ wouldn’t be unacceptable, though he’d enjoyed little success. The best he ever got was a begrudgingly tolerant sneer practically indiscernible from Jiang Wanyin’s usual one.

He slipped the official records from his sleeves and presented them with a half-bow “I am here to be hostaged in exchange for certain demands outlined in this letter, which you will be sending out conditional upon your approval. It contains suggestions for potential marriages to smooth the relations between your people and the rest of the world, as well as clemency for anyone currently under your protection as a result of those unions.”

Wen Qing grabbed the missive from his hand before Wei Wuxian even twitched in his direction.

Wei Wuxian’s face twisted. “I don't want you as a hostage!”

“Why not?” Jin Zixuan demanded, trying and mostly failing not to be insulted by the fact Wei Wuxian did not want him as a hostage. He’d deliberately volunteered himself. As Jin-zongzhu, he was the best bargaining chip Wei Wuxian could possibly hope for. After all he’d gone through only to now be turned away at the last minute? It was not to be born!

“Besides the fact everyone in the world will be baying for my blood?” Wei Wuxian apparently possessed better political sense than literally any of his actions to date suggested. “It will make my shijie cry.”

Ah. Well. “With respect, your sister has already cried over you many times since you seceded from YungmengJiang.”

Jin Zixuan really would've preferred to go his entire life without seeing Wei Wuxian’s face right before he commenced weeping. His features twisted up in a horribly unattractive manner and made him seem unfairly young and vulnerable. One nearly forgot him to be the scourge of the cultivation world. All things considered, he vastly preferred Wei Wuxian’s expression when he’d contemplated breaking the rest of Jin Zixuan’s ribs, if only because it made him want to hug the other man less.

Wen Qing sighed and bullied them all towards an impressive cave, as far as caves went, at which point she sat them down at a rock doubling as a table and began pouring over the document more closely.

Wei Wuxian, thankfully, did not cry. Probably only because of A-Yuan's chubby hands clumsily patting his face as the child himself implored ‘Xian-gege’ to smile. Once they’d all seated themselves around the rock, Wen Qionglin appeared from the depths of the cave carrying a tray laden down with cups of water. Jin Zixuan did his utmost not to stare, impressed the rumours in this case proved to be true regarding Wei Wuxian’s ability to actually raise the dead back to sentience. He greeted Jin Zixuan with better manners than any of the living people currently surrounding him, remembering Jin Zixuan was the leader of the most prominent sect in the land and not an errant miscreant there to disturb the peace.

Wen Qing looked up from her study of the letter. “There is a blank space where it indicates who I am to marry.”

“Ah, yes, my brother believed you might like to choose your own spouse. He humbly recommends you select from among the larger sects in order to give you the greatest protection. He has suggested Jiang-zongzhu, Nie-zongzhu, or my dear friend Luo Qingyang as appropriate options.”

Wen Qing nodded. “Acceptable.” She retrieved a pen from a stack of talisman papers and jotted down a name, though at his angle Jin Zixuan did not see which one. “And for Wei Wuxian?”

Wei Wuxian at last shook himself out of his misery. “What?”

“Ah. A marriage has been similarly recommended, but with a specific bridegroom, as you’ll see on the second page.”

Wen Qing turned it over to review the clause in question. “Also acceptable.”

“What the fuck?” Wei Wuxian whispered. Living in the Burial Mounds had done little to improve his manners. (Not that Jin Zixuan noticed any obvious decline in them either.)

Wen Qionglin peered over his sister’s shoulder. “Oooooh, this explains the chickens Lan Wangji brought with him when he visited just now.”

“No. Actually. What the fuck?” Wei Wuxian repeated. A-Yuan kissed his cheek.

“The matchmaker suggests a summer wedding,” Jin Zixuan said.

Nine Months Later, on the occasion of a particularly well-attended One Month Celebration

Jin Zixuan rarely had cause to regret his many and varied successes in life. He did not regret marrying the kindest, more caring and beneficent woman in the entire world.

Nor did he regret forging his relationship with his brother. In fact, brotherhood itself proved so rewarding in the intervening months before the birth of his son, he went ahead with tracking down another one of his half-brothers along with his unfairly treated mother and moved them into Jin Zixun’s old rooms. He’d dedicate his life to making sure both of them, along with his newly discovered half-sister Qin Su, enjoyed every possible comfort and advantage.

He did not regret his part in repatriating the Wen remnants, though he did wish he’d found a way to do it sooner. Nor did he see cause to regret promoting what he considered to be a series of what proved to be excellent matches. He only regretted unseating his father insofar as running the sect took up an unfortunate amount of his free time, which he could not devote to ensuring his wife’s ongoing happiness.

If he did regret his success when it came to Wei Wuxian, it only arose when the man in question came into close quarters with Jiang Wanyin, as the two of them never spoke at a socially acceptable volume. A-Li offered little in the way of help, too happy to have her family reunited to interfere. Also he suspected she found it funny. Wei Wuxian’s husband and son occasionally tried to mediate, but once the two of them got into it there seemed no stopping them.

Well, A-Yuan tried to mediate anyway. His attempts tended to involve wide-eyed adoration for his ‘Purple-shushu’ which resulted in Jiang Wanyin turning into what could generously be called mush and completely forgetting the thread of the argument. Jin Zixuan suspected Lan Wangji just found the entire affair amusing (as long as Wei Wuxian kept the upper hand. Whenever Jiang Wanyin landed a point, Lan Wangji always looked prepared to unsheathe his sword.)

“No, you’re the one who got us banned from the best tanghulu seller in Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian stated with all the authority afforded to him by himself and literally no one else.

Jiang Wanyin opened his mouth to snap back, only for his jaw to lock when Qin Su entered the room. She tilted her head and smiled at him, their eyes meeting for only a moment before they both looked quickly away. He didn’t honestly know what to make of the two of them and suspected he should start assigning a chaperone.

Not too far away, Zewu-jun and A-Yao cooed at Jin Ling, standing a hairsbreadth shy of being too close for propriety’s sake.

Two. Two chaperones. Maybe some sort of time-sharing arrangement? Chifeng-zun might be willing to do so… he and A-Yao seemed to have been getting along better these days.

“You did very well, A-Xuan,” A-Li whispered into his shoulder.

“I did, didn’t I?” He grinned at her proudly.

“I know Mianmian has wanted to marry Wen Qing since they met in Gusu, but I had no idea this was how you'd manage it.”

Jin Zixuan nodded for only a moment before frowning. “Wait.”