Chapter Text
It was generally agreed upon, by all and sundry, that Lotus Pier was one of the most beautiful places in the cultivation world. Secure atop her mighty pilings and home to the powerful Jiang Sect, the jewel of Yunmeng floated above the waters of the lake, serene and lovely as the eponymous flowers that grew plentifully around her graceful pavilions and stately halls.
At least, that was the usual way of things.
At the moment, Lotus Pier was buzzing, like a beehive that had been hit with a stick.
*
It all started early that morning, when six-year-old Jiang Yanli, eldest child and treasured daughter of Sect Leader Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu Ziyuan, wandered past her baby brother’s room on her way to breakfast and heard an unusual sound.
It was not the cheerful burbling noises that little A-Cheng was wont to make when he woke up in a good mood, mind you. Nor was it the disgruntled grizzling that indicated when he was dirty, wet, or hungry.
This was more of a…growl.
Though filled with trepidation, Jiang Yanli nevertheless crept into the nursery, dim in the misty light of dawn. She drew back the filmy purple bed-curtains, stood on tiptoe, and peered bravely into the crib.
Her panicked screaming roused the entire Sect very effectively.
Servants and disciples alike came stampeding towards the family quarters from every direction, brandishing whatever weapons and kitchen utensils they had to hand. Yu Ziyuan, known far and wide as the Violet Spider, arrived like a thunderclap – still in her sleeping robe, it must be confessed, but with her sword in one hand and Meishan’s legendary lightning whip, Zidian, crackling dangerously in the other.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!”
Her personal attendants, Yu Jinzhu and Yu Yinzhu, stood at her back with daggers drawn.
“Mama!” Jiang Yanli wailed, pointing a trembling finger towards the nursery. “S-something t-t-terrible happened to A-Cheng!”
Yu Ziyuan paled, but never let it be said that she hesitated for an instant.
She strode into her baby’s room, and everybody (including Jiang Fengmian, who came hopping up, trying to run and pull on his boots at the same time) crowded around the door.
There was a long moment of silence, punctuated by Jiang Yanli’s sniffles and more of those strange, guttural, growling noises.
“You’d better come in here, Fengmian,” said Yu Ziyuan eventually. “You too, A-Li; dry your eyes and compose yourself.”
Jiang Yanli tried to hang back, quivering in every limb, but Jiang Fengmian put a comforting hand on his daughter’s head and guided her into the nursery. As their eyes adjusted, they could see – well, something – wriggling around in the crib, something that was manifestly not the chubby, golden-skinned human baby who had been put to bed in it the night before.
It looked like nothing so much as an oddly elongated and very animated eggplant, or at least that was Jiang Fengmian’s first semi-hysterical thought. It was glossy and black, or very close to it, with tiny stubs of horns poking out of its head. Between its horns, the creature sported a fuzzy Jiang-purple crest that ran down the back of its neck and continued along its entire serpentine length.
Jiang Yanli whimpered with fright, and the little creature grumbled unhappily.
As it flailed about, they could see its tail terminated in a fish-like fin, flashing iridescent blue and lavender whenever it caught the sun. It waved its four little legs in the air, and they could see that each foot was tipped with five diamond-bright claws.
“It’s a river dragon,” said Jiang Fengmian finally, feeling rather faint.
“He’s a river dragon,” Yu Ziyuan replied sharply, and reached into the crib.
“Mama?” said Jiang Yanli, in a quavering voice.
“Don’t be a silly goose, A-Li,” said Yu Ziyuan, in the brisk matter-of-fact tone that she had perfected over years of supervising night hunts and hosting Discussion Conferences. She hoisted the squirming dragonet into her arms, and it – he – stopped growling, grinned happily (it was a very wide grin, now, revealing two rows of alarmingly sharp silver teeth) and reached for his Jiejie with all his little claws. “Nothing terrible happened to A-Cheng, he’s just transformed, see?”
*
“I will not send A-Cheng to Cloud Recesses, Fengmian,” said Yu Ziyuan fiercely, once the entire Sect had been sworn to secrecy and breakfast was over.
It had been a rather eventful meal. A-Cheng, still in his dragon form, had disdained his usual congee (the servants had just finished wiping it off the walls) and tucked into a fresh-caught fish instead, with enormous enthusiasm.
Yu Ziyuan did not care that the servants were still scraping fish scales off the floor. This was not a conversation she felt inclined to postpone for propriety’s sake. She’d only waited long enough for a giggling Jiang Yanli to drape Jiang Cheng around her neck, like a scarf, and take him outside to play.
She did not want her children within earshot of this argument.
She glared at her husband and added, “I confess, I am surprised to hear you even suggest such a thing.”
It was still early in the day, but Jiang Fengmian already looked weary, as he often did when speaking with her.
“My lady, it has been many, many generations since Yunmeng was graced by a dragon-born Jiang. The disciples are still checking the Sect archives, but there is very little information; certainly nothing to help guide us in raising such a creature.”
“This creature is still our son,” Yu Ziyuan reminded her husband coldly, “and he’s not even a year old. He needs his family and his home. You cannot seriously think that it would be better for a river dragon to go live in the mountains!”
“My lady…” Jiang Fengmian began, sounding pained, but she cut him off.
“Above all else, A-Cheng is your heir! How can we possibly hold up our heads among the other Great Sects if we send him away for his education?”
Jiang Fengmian’s voice sounded eminently mild and reasonable as he replied, “I think it would be better for him to live among other dragons.”
Yu Ziyuan fell silent, and Jiang Fengmian took the opportunity to press his advantage.
“Think of it, my lady. In addition to being a celestial dragon, Lan Qiren is also a highly respected teacher. We already agreed that A-Cheng would go study with him eventually, alongside the other Great Sect heirs. Who will think too hard about it if he simply goes early, for a few additional years of instruction? He could even have dragon peers at Cloud Recesses; there’s Lan Xichen and little Lan Wangji, who is only a year or two older than A-Cheng, if I remember correctly.”
Before Yu Ziyuan could think of a rejoinder, there was a loud splash, and Jiang Yanli’s voice floated into the breakfast pavilion.
“Mama! A-Cheng jumped in the water!”
Yu Ziyuan got up hurriedly.
“Oh, look, he’s swimming!”
Yu Ziyuan relaxed again.
“No, A-Cheng, don’t put that in your mouth, it might be nasty! Mama! A-Cheng caught a frog! Make him spit it out!”
Yu Ziyuan ran outdoors. Jiang Fengmian remained where he was, and brooded over his tea.
*
“I’m sorry, A-Cheng,” said Jiang Fengmian as he led his sniffling (human) son away from the docks. “But you know your mother doesn’t want you mixing with ordinary people.”
Behind them, the dockworkers’ children stood silently staring, with their mouths hanging open, astonished to have their game interrupted and their newest little playmate carted off by the Sect Leader himself.
“But I’m lonely,” said Jiang Cheng, plucking at his father’s sleeve. “Jiejie is at lessons all day, and the disciples are always training.”
Jiang Fengmian sighed. If only Ziyuan wasn’t so stubborn…
“Well, soon you’ll be old enough for your own lessons, and your own training.”
“But I’m lonely now, Papa.”
Jiang Fengmian didn’t reply, and they walked through the marketplace in silence.
After a moment, Jiang Cheng tugged his sleeve again.
“What is it now, A-Cheng?”
“Can I go pet that dog?”
Jiang Fengmian looked to where Jiang Cheng was pointing, and saw a hunter sauntering along with a quiver of arrows over his shoulder and a brace of pheasants at his belt. A rangy mongrel loped at his heels.
“All right.”
Absently, Jiang Fengmian watched his four-year-old son shyly approach the hunter, who gave him a gap-toothed smile and made the dog sit. An idea formed in his mind as he observed Jiang Cheng offering the back of his hand for a sniff.
His son beamed with happiness as the dog’s tail wagged, sweeping against the ground.
When they got back to Lotus Pier, Jiang Fengmian handed A-Cheng off to his nursemaid and went to consult with the kennel-master.
*
“I HATE YOU,” screamed Jiang Cheng, but it came out as more of a roar.
The scruffy, half-starved street urchin cowering behind Jiang Fengmian’s legs clutched at his robes in terror, as Jiang Cheng’s suntanned skin vanished beneath a wave of gleaming, chitinous black scales.
As he shifted forms, arcs of purple lightning shivered and snapped up and down Jiang Cheng’s body, making his crest bristle up.
That’s new, thought Jiang Fengmian, feeling rather dazed. The smell of ozone filled his nostrils.
Jiang Cheng’s body grew and stretched as he lashed out of his robes and threw himself over the edge of the pier, sobbing furiously. He swam away as a dragon, undulating through the water at incredible speed, leaving slow eddying swirls in his wake.
“I’m – I’m sorry, Uncle Jiang,” said the other boy, in a voice that shook. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”
Jiang Fengmian sighed.
“It’s not your fault, A-Xian. You can’t help being afraid of dogs, after all. A-Cheng is six years old, and he should know better by now. Don’t worry too much, and he’ll get over it sooner or later.”
The sun dimmed abruptly, and Jiang Fengmian squinted up at the sky, which he could have sworn was perfectly clear only moments ago. He was greatly taken aback to see clouds boiling up on the horizon, heralds of a fast-moving storm, lit from within by occasional flashes of lightning.
Purple lighting?
*
“You are a fool, Fengmian,” said Yu Ziyuan later that night.
She had to raise her voice to be heard over the sound of wind shrieking through the eaves and howling over the once-placid water. The sound of waves crashing against Lotus Pier was interspersed with hollow thumps and the occasional horrid squeal, as the wooden boats tugged at their mooring-lines and slammed against each other.
For once, she was not worried about anyone overhearing. Almost all the disciples and servants were out looking for Jiang Cheng, who still hadn’t come home, and Jiang Yanli was in the kitchen, busy fussing over the new boy. (At her father’s request, she had promptly taken Wei Wuxian under her wing and was feeding him all the pork ribs from the soup-pot.)
A pair of disciples ran past, shouting something about waterspouts.
Yu Ziyuan stepped onto her hovering sword and fixed her husband with a glare.
“You are a fool,” she repeated, “but in this case, I will concede that you may be right. Once A-Cheng is found, I will write to Lan Qiren.”