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Chapter Text

Jiang Yanli was fifteen years old when she realised soup was incapable of solving every problem.

Of course, she’d been aware of this for a long time, if subconsciously at best. Soup would never fix the lonely look in Jiang Cheng’s eyes when Jiang Fengmian turned away from him for the millionth time. Soup would never fix the desperation and fear on Wei Ying’s face whenever he laid eyes on either Jiang parent. Soup would never fix the way Yu Ziyuan artfully hid her flinch each time she heard the words ‘bitter’ and ‘angry’ whispered in her direction.

But soup made it a little better, and everyone always smiled and asked for a second bowl. She knew from experience how warm a full stomach could make you. With her tiny golden core, not even completely formed, she could never dream of stepping out onto the battlefield—so it was the least she could do to comfort those she loved. Up until she saw Jiang Fengmian’s corpse laid out on the dais, and watched her strong mother collapse like a house of cards, she had thought it was all she could do. 

Then someone else moved her mouth for her, offered to take over the training, and it snowballed from there. She’d never done something so fulfilling in all her life, let alone dreamed of doing anything remotely related to battle. But it became clearer and clearer as the days went on that this was her calling. Every issue that soup could not tackle, war could. Honing her disciples into the finest tools could. Embracing the Yu within her as well as the Jiang, helping A-Cheng embrace it too—that solved over half the issues she’d once had to settle for using placebos to remedy.

That said and done, there are some problems soup will solve far quicker than battle ever can. This, Jiang Yanli muses as she thinks back to the new arrival, is one of them.

The woman, Lan Meiling (she’d said, and at the moment they haven’t any choice but to believe her), had just awoken after sleeping for two days. As a doctor second only to Wen Qing of Qishan Wen, Jiang Chu Hua confirmed last night that she would be completely fine once she woke. Exhaustion, she’d said, from an “exceedingly long” trip on foot. Indeed Lan Meiling’s feet had been torn to blisters, her sandals so worn and dirty that Jiang Chu Hua had taken one look at them and thrown them out.

It doesn’t add up no matter how hard Jiang Yanli tries to make it. As much as her heart worries about Lan Meiling’s health and safety, her head can’t help wondering. Why would a Lan have to seek asylum at Yunmeng, so far from mountainous Gusu? Why wouldn’t she ride her sword instead of trekking throughout? If she could not cultivate then she would not be a Lan clan member, unless she was born into the main family. That isn’t possible since her headband is plain.

So what is Lan Meiling hiding? Have they already made a grave mistake by allowing her in? Jiang Yanli stirs the pot on the stove absently—it contains barely any of the usual spice, as suits the Lan taste. She pokes a piece of jackfruit, her go-to substitute for pork, with her wooden spoon, and smiles in satisfaction as it falls apart, perfectly tender. Dousing the flame, she steps back and wipes her forehead with her sleeve, the easy contentment that comes from a good cooking session bubbling through her.

For now, it will be enough to deliver the woman some homemade food. She looks like she could use it, and besides, meeting her will be an opportunity to sate her curiosity.

“Young Mistress!” whispers a voice from the door. Jiang Yanli looks up to see Feifei, poking her head into the kitchen. “Doctor Chu Hua said the visitor is awake enough to eat. Is there any fruit left?”

“Oh, I made some soup just for her, actually.” Jiang Yanli beckons her inside, and the girl scurries forth. “Can you taste this? Tell me if it’s appropriately…” 

She trails off, not wanting to say it aloud. Feifei chuckles knowingly and grabs the wooden spoon, holding it up high to drizzle a few drops into her mouth.

“No spice, a bit sweet actually because of the jackfruit. Bland enough that a one-year-old would reject it. It’s completely Lan, my lady!” Jiang Yanli giggles.

“Thank you very much for that frank assessment. Would you be a dear and grab some guoba to go with this? I’ll serve this up and take it to her.”

“Lans don’t eat guoba. They don’t know how to have any fun, Young Mistress!” Feifei says dramatically. Jiang Yanli sighs, but takes her word for it—the daughter of a Lan disciple and orphaned as a child, the girl spent her early years in Gusu before coming to Yunmeng to find her mother’s family. She knows the Lan clan well; Jiang Yanli is reasonably sure she picked up her ironclad diligence from them.

“Alright then. I’ll go give her this soup, and see Mother before I start training.” 

Feifei flinches at that last word, almost imperceptibly. Jiang Yanli opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it at the last minute. Feifei will tell her if she wants to—no point in prying needlessly. She could hurt someone that way.

“I’ll take it for you, Young Mistress,” the maid offers. Jiang Yanli shakes her head and smiles as sweetly as she can, trying her best to project warmth and comfort.

“Don’t worry about it. I like watching people taste my cooking!” she says cheerfully, taking the bowl and chopsticks in her hands and sweeping out of the kitchen. Careful not to spill the soup, she makes her way to the infirmary as quickly as possible, thanking her stars that no stairs factor into this equation. She isn’t exactly the picture of grace—there’s already a bit of brown liquid on the bottom of her skirt.

“Hello, Lan-dajie?” she calls softly, stepping inside the infirmary. Within is indeed a woman dressed in Lan robes, propped up with pillows and looking quite disoriented. She makes no effort to respond to Jiang Yanli, who just moves closer, undeterred.

“Lan-dajie?” she asks, standing at the foot of the bed. Lan Meiling blinks at her; then her eyes widen as if she just realised she was being spoken to.

“Ah! Yes, yes, that’s… that’s me…” She trails off, staring at the bowl. “You brought me food?”

“Yes,” Jiang Yanli says, softening a little at the sight of the clearly hungry and worn woman. She goes to the side of the bed, placing the tray directly in Lan Meiling’s hands. “It’s for you. I made it vegetarian, and didn’t spice it at all. I’ve never eaten Lan food but I know you take it mild.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so very much.” Lan Meiling looks at her with eyes full of gratitude. “May I ask your name?”

“I’m Jiang Yanli, first daughter of Lotus Pier,” Jiang Yanli says, smiling to put Lan Meiling at ease. “I hope you like my soup.”

“Ah, you’re the Young Mistress Jiang!” Lan Meiling exclaims. It’s still a soft exclamation, her being a Lan and all. “I’m so sorry for my impolite behaviour. I didn’t know who you were, but that is no excuse.” She tries to bow in her seat, but Jiang Yanli shakes her head quickly, touching her shoulder.

“Please, Lan-dajie! It’s quite alright. I just wanted to make sure you were well, and that you ate something.” It’s partly true. Now is not the time to ask questions, and if she’s being honest, the look on Lan Meiling’s face as she stares at the soup like she hasn’t seen good food in weeks is making her not want to ask those questions for some time.

They can let it be for a while, surely. At least until she confers with her mother about their guest. If Lan Meiling was an immediate threat, she would have probably tried to hurt Jiang Yanli—the girl well known for being completely defenceless. Either that, or she’s gunning for Yu Ziyuan, in which case… Jiang Yanli will wish her a safe trip to the afterlife.

“It was excellent,” Lan Meiling says after she finishes the very last drop of soup in the bowl, sounding completely honest. “I greatly appreciate you tending to my Lan taste, Young Mistress. But I must confess, you needn’t always go out of your way… it has been a long time since I was home.” She sighs, eyes faraway. “I have learned—been forced to learn—how to handle some of the spiciest foods you can imagine.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Jiang Yanli says truthfully, covering Lan Meiling’s palm with her slightly larger hand. “I hope you are able to return to Gusu soon.”

Lan Meiling ducks her head slightly. Jiang Yanli takes that as her cue to leave, seeing the woman’s eyes droop again.

“I’ll allow you to rest,” she says, picking up the tray and bowl. “I am glad you enjoyed my food.”

“Many thanks, Young Mistress.”

As soon as she exits the room, Jiang Yanli nearly trips over two people, both dressed in purple—one far more ornate than the other. Feifei, and… her mother, who’ve clearly been eavesdropping.

“You’re very kind, A-Li,” Yu Ziyuan says, pinching her cheek lightly. “Never change.”

“She is tired and lonely. It’s not an act as far as I can tell. I thought it would not be right to ask her questions now.” Jiang Yanli lowers her eyes. “I’m sorry if I made a mistake.”

“Oh, A-Li.” Yu Ziyuan looks over her, tender as the jackfruit in the soup. “You didn’t. I’ve learnt it with some difficulty, but being kind is never a mistake.” Jiang Yanli swallows and nods.

“Thank you, Mother. I should go take care of the disciples. Are you going to speak with Lan Meiling?”

“I am. I have some questions to ask her. And Feifei will eavesdrop whether or not we want her to, so she’ll be with me. Good luck with training.”

Jiang Yanli bows and heads off to the grounds. Opening her scrolls for today, she starts calling commands, soon losing herself in the repetitive simplicity of training. Correcting a posture here, changing a stance there—the little adjustments bring about such massive changes in form and practice. She can’t help smiling proudly at the end of the session as the disciples chug down water and thank her in unison.

She almost heads for the indoor training hall before she remembers she doesn’t have her extra session with Jiang Cheng and Yu Ziyuan. It would usually be the best part of her day—watching her mother and brother fight together with both whip and sword, herself learning the Yu style when Jiang Cheng skipped over and invariably placed her hands over his to show her how the move worked, and giving her own suggestions that more often than not improved the already powerful style. Now Jiang Yanli pauses outside the hall, allows herself a small sigh and heads for her mother’s office.

“Mother, training is over,” she announces, slipping in when she sees Yu Ziyuan alone and drinking tea. The other smiles and pours her a steaming cup. 

“How are they improving? I heard Jiang Aiguo was having trouble.”

“Yes, the problem is with his stamina, so I'm having him do strength training,” she explains. “His forms are near-perfect.”

“Wonderful. You’re so good with them. But I suspect this isn’t what you wanted to talk about?” Yu Ziyuan says knowingly. Jiang Yanli nods.

“What did you find out from Lan-dajie, Mother?”

“A little bit. Not very much about her, but her reason for asylum is quite solid.” Yu Ziyuan folds her hands on her desk. “She is a Lan, through and through. Barely speaks, quiet and composed. She had moved away from the Sect many years ago, you must have been seven or eight, to be with her cultivation partner. They were living near Qishan, and her partner… was executed by the Wen clan for a reason she did not disclose.”

“That’s horrible,” Jiang Yanli whispers, aghast. “So she is fleeing from them, fearing she will be next…”

“Yes. It makes sense as to why she would walk, doesn’t it?”

“Right! Flying on her sword would cement her as a cultivator, when she’d been living as a civilian.” Jiang Yanli exhales shakily. “Of course she sought refuge, and our protection. We ought to give it to her freely.”

“For now.” Yu Ziyuan drinks deeply and sighs. “We haven’t any way to prove this story. The next you write the boys, tell them to ask if a Meiling was ever part of the Sect. Even then we cannot be sure, but asking is better than nothing.”

“Alright. But… if I may, Mother…” Lan Meiling had sounded nothing but honest. “She spoke so frankly.”

“Is that so?” Yu Ziyuan chuckles. “Yes. I felt that too. There is no untruth to the pain in her words.”

“Mm. Thank you for answering my questions. Goodnight, Mother!” Jiang Yanli rises, leaning forward to kiss her mother on the cheek.

“Goodnight, A-Li. Oh, and,”—Yu Ziyuan smirks at her, pulling away and waving three letters in the air—“you’ve got mail.”

Ah! A-Cheng, A-Xian! And Zixuan! Jiang Yanli gasps and all but snatches the letters from her palm. 

“Thank you, Mother!” she cries, already running down the hallway to read them in her room. Every thought of traitors gone, she sleeps like a child that night.

Chapter Text

“Final sequence, begin!”

Silver dances through the air. A quick X-shaped cut, then a straight stab towards the heart of the dummy, rending it in two. But the blade does not wait long—it rips cleanly upwards, tearing through the head. Hay bursts out, landing in the loose hair and sweat-soaked clothes of the panting girl that finally sheathes her sword at her side and sketches a bow.

Jiang Yanli smiles and claps her hands. “Excellently done, Feifei. You’re a quick study.”

“It’s all thanks to you, ma’am.” Feifei straightens, white teeth gleaming as she grins. “Going to so much trouble to help me out, all because I said I’d like to become a disciple someday…”

“Who’s going to stop me?” Jiang Yanli giggles. “My mother? We both know that she’d encourage it, if anything.”

“That is true.” The maid leans on the hilt of her practice sword, whipping a piece of wet dark hair out of her face. “The Lady would much rather everyone cart around blades than tea trays.”

“If only,” Jiang Yanli sighs, letting the melodrama ooze into her tone. She might not be able to lay her own fingers on a dagger, but there are ace cards hiding up her wide sleeves: specifically, the ironclad loyalty of every Jiang disciple. So it makes no true difference, in the end. “Now I need to go and write some letters. Will you take care of the cleanup?”

“Of course. Until such time as you require a nice cup of tea, milady,” Feifei says with a wink and a smile. It’s less an instruction and more a well-worn code between them: the young woman is one of Jiang Yanli’s most dedicated students, and is also widely known to fly into rages as tempestuous as those of Lotus Pier’s queen regnant if her work is disturbed. As long as her servant’s lamp is outside a room, no one will dare enter it—allowing the girl a little extra training time, whether to practice something more or to finish her stretches.

“I’m afraid that won’t be the case for a while, but thank you!” They both know she likes to brew her own tea, after all. And now that Feifei mentions it, Jiang Yanli does find herself a little thirsty…

Well, nothing pairs better with writing replies than a steaming pot of jasmine tea. The weather is perfect today—so she takes her tray and calligraphy set to the Lotus Pavilion, bobbing through the gaggle of disciples back from their latest night-hunt and returning their excited greetings. She’ll hear all about it later; for now, she has much to ask her boys.

Wei Wuxian’s letter is the shortest, only partly because of his handwriting. It’s so tiny, Jiang Yanli has to squint to read it clearly, and even then it’s a mess, characters scrunched together and smudged in places. The other reason is that it’s a short assurance of him being alive and well. Her older little brother does hate being overly descriptive about his own life, although Jiang Yanli strongly suspects she’ll be receiving multi-page missives detailing every last embarrassment Jiang Cheng is bound to face.

A-Xian, I’m glad to know you’re settling in okay. Sorry to hear about the food, although you should have been prepared for that! Listen to your sister the next time she tells you to pack a bundle of Yunmeng spices. But even if it’s bland, you had better be eating right. A strong warrior must be nourished properly, and if nothing else I know that Lan food is nourishing. 

A word of advice, try and get along with young Lan Wangji. I’m no A-Cheng —he is the family politician, at the end of the day— but I do know that he’s a good-hearted young man. And it can’t hurt to befriend one of the Twin Jades, can it?

That one, she knows, will make Wei Wuxian’s face turn white. After all… Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan have both taken the pains to tell her everything in detail. They’ve left her alone here, so why can’t she have a bit of fun too?

Also, find out if it’s within the rules for me to send you a small packet of spices or snacks with my next letter. And do share my regards with Young Master Nie (and his brother! It’s been too long since we last met).

I miss you already, A-Xian. It’s a lot quieter without you, and I will admit more peaceful, but sometimes noise helps you focus, do you understand? And you’d better tell me more about yourself rather than talking about everyone else! Your sister is most concerned for you, silly one.

All done. She blows on the ink to dry it, rolls the scroll up and ties it neatly with a bright purple ribbon. Wei Wuxian has such a fondness for anything Yunmeng, it’s endearing.

Jiang Cheng’s letter is about a page longer than Wei Wuxian’s and much more neatly written. He gives away details in such a covert fashion, she has to read it twice to fully understand everything he’s saying—and the details in question aren’t even very important! Jiang Yanli doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or proud, so she settles for a huff of laughter and begins to scribe a response.

A-Cheng, I’m happy things are going well so far. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make things like ‘how the elder Twin Jade is exactly as he’s described’ so hard to figure out from your messages. It’s not top secret information!

Lan Qiren may seem strict and overly uptight, but Mother says he’s a fair man and we’re quite aware she’s not the type to lie. Although, do I really need to worry about you understanding that? After all, from the way you say it, I can just tell that you already know. Don’t think your sister doesn’t have her eyes on you from here!

I’ve let A-Xian know about Young Master Wangji. I tried my best to do it like you would, and I think I did pretty alright. Whatever the case, you should watch for his reaction when he reads my letter—and tell me all about it. I could use a good laugh.

Are you eating properly? A-Xian’s already complained about the food and I know we were expecting this, but I worry, you know? I’ve already asked him to let me know if you’re allowed to receive food packages. Still, you find out too and tell me, okay?

We have a new guest at Lotus Pier! Her name is Meiling, and she’s got quite the interesting style. She likes to wear white and has a much milder palate than us, so I’ve been cooking for her. Mother and she have been having quite a few conversations lately.

It’s enough. It has to be. Jiang Cheng will understand.

I love you and miss you very much, my dear A-Cheng. Keep practicing your Yu swordsmanship; I expect to see it in just as fine shape as ever when you come back. After which, of course, you had better be ready for a feast of the most epic proportions. Don’t salivate too much thinking about it!

Done. She blows on it gently and rolls it up, sending a silent prayer with the ribbon she ties around the scroll. And next is…

She can’t restrain her smile as she reads the words she’s thumbed so often over the past few days. Jin Zixuan still writes like the shy young man he was when they first met, though they’ve gone long past most boundaries with each other. His letter is all polite greetings and cordial sharing of secrets, so formal that you might think you were reading something official. But she’s long since learned to read between the lines, and she traces every gentle word with tenderness, already yearning for the warmth of his embrace.

Zixuan,

I’m afraid we must commune like this, in words so elegant and carefully chosen, until such time as you decide you know how to speak like a normal person. Do you know how long it took me to figure out what you were trying to say? Just tell me you’re doing well and you miss me when you write again!

It’s lonely here without you. I know you’re going to be amazing out there, and I don’t need to tell you to watch out for my brothers, but I still can’t wait for this year to pass. When you held my hands before you left, I knew you were going to cry a bit on the way to Gusu. I hope you wiped your tears quickly, though, because you’ll be back with us before you know it. Be aware that I am by your side always, my love. I live in your heart, and you in mine.

I’ve said this to A-Cheng and A-Xian already, but make sure you’re eating well. I’ll feed you well when you come back, so stay strong through this for me. And don’t let the boys bully you too much. You know they mean well, but if it gets too much, you’ve every right to say so.

Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll see you soon. And you should write your mother regularly—I will know if you don’t.

Her brush hovers over the parchment. She bites her lip, and a small dot of ink falls onto the paper where she’s holding her pen.

Well, now that the ink has already stained her letter… she should cover it up. 

Your Yanli, she signs over the tiny blot, cheeks warming a little, then blows the letter dry and ties it up. Stacking her scrolls and packing up her writing tools, she pours some tea and sips slowly. The breeze is gentle and cool, a perfect complement to the steaming jasmine in her cup. It really is a lovely day out.

Tea finished, she brushes her clothes off and bustles back to the Pier proper. There’s work to be done - today is a special day. And she’d like to check in on Lan Meiling at least once before she descends into the haze of preparation and performance.

Jiang Yanli brews another pot of tea as rapidly as she’d made the first one and dashes off to the hospital wing. Lan Meiling should be awake; Jiang Chu Hua had told her when she’d come in earlier that morning that the woman was eating breakfast and chatting with the other denizens of the wing. Interesting but not entirely unsurprising - Jiang Yanli has met Lan Xichen, and while he might be the epitome of Lan perfection, he also possessed quite a long tongue when one got him started. She’d made that mistake once, and it was enough for a lifetime.

Jiang Yanli gathers her skirt in one hand as she nears the wing and takes slow footsteps, balancing her tray carefully on the other. She raises her hand to knock, but the door is slightly ajar and soft conversation flows out from within. Pausing, she listens:

“This is truly delicious. Thank you so much.” Lan Meiling’s voice, she’s sure—the soft, mellow tone could belong to no child of Yunmeng. Who is she talking to though? It can’t be any of the disciples; right now they should be either training, eating or sleeping, and even otherwise none of them would come just to see the Lan woman who’d collapsed into their regent’s arms. Feifei isn’t an option either—the girl is staying away from Lan Meiling on purpose—so, what, it’s Jinzhu or Yinzhu? Unlikely, but…

“It’s no problem. I don’t cook very often, so I’m glad you like it.”

Jiang Yanli freezes. That voice: she knows it. As expected, it’s none of her disciples, but it isn’t Jinzhu or Yinzhu, either. It’s a tone so familiar she’d respond to it in her sleep—one she has responded to in sleep before.

It’s the voice of Lady Yu Ziyuan . 

Not Third Lady Yu, not the regent of Lotus Pier, not Jiang Yanli’s mother. Yu Ziyuan, in girlish glory, something Jiang Yanli has only ever seen around Jin Mingxia or Jinzhu and Yinzhu, when they think no one is watching. She stands still as stone, tray stiff in her hands.

“I don’t believe it,” laughs Lan Meiling, a tenderness in her words that rubs Jiang Yanli the wrong way. “Your lovely daughter must have learnt from somewhere.”

“Wherever she did, it wasn’t from me.” Yu Ziyuan snorts. There’s a bit of rustling, and Jiang Yanli is afraid to look. “She’s the one who taught me this recipe, actually. Tea is simple to make, and this one has some medicinal properties too, so she insisted I should learn.”

“Understandably.” A light giggle, and suddenly that voice is grating on her ears. “I know this is forward, but… could I trouble you to tell me more about yourself, my lady?”

“It’s no trouble at all. Not for you.”

Not for you.

Jiang Yanli’s face flames, and the tea tray falls with a gigantic crash. Shards of ceramic scatter everywhere, her skirts soaking in liquid and her hair sodden, but all she can do is stand stock-still in pure astonishment. She’s dimly aware of how the conversation cuts off and just about hears Yu Ziyuan rushing to the door, but nothing really registers and she remains in place, numb.

“Young Mistress, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You have mail from Jin Ming— oh .” Feifei stops short a few paces away, looking her up and down in shock, and Jiang Yanli blinks.

“I have what?”

Before she can process it, Yu Ziyuan is by her side, and an almighty gasp rips from her throat.

“A-Li! What happened?”

And as she is whisked away to be cleaned up, her mother shooting a million questions a moment as she’s handed new clothes and checked for injuries, all she can think is, What is going on here?