Chapter Six
The Weight of Guilt
"Young Master Jin, you seem distracted," said Wen Ning, softly, hesitantly. Even though he'd been watching these kids on their nighttime excursions for weeks, he was never quite comfortable addressing Jin Ling. Guilt, apparently, could form and last long after death.
"I'm fine," Jin Ling snapped. Even in the moonlight, his pink cheeks were obvious.
"What happened?" Lan Jingyi asked over the burbling of a steam, as Lan Sizhui fluttered a hand towards Jin Ling.
"Are you okay?"
Jin Ling looked ready to scream. And melt into the damp grass.
"Is it your uncle? We heard he came to Carp Tower." Jingyi deftly leapt across the stream. Fairy waded after him and promptly shook himself, splattering water all over Lan Jingyi. "Fairy!"
"Truthfully, I'm glad Jiang Cheng is there," said Lan Sizhui, offering his hand to help Jin Ling across.
"I can cross myself," said Jin Ling, and to anyone else, Lan Sizhui would look unaffected by this rejection.
But to these wre his friends. To all of them, Sizhui visibly wilted.
Enough, even, that Wen Ning looked taken aback. His eyes flitted from Jin Ling to Lan Sizhui, and back.
"Fine. You'll have to carry me." Jin Ling flopped into Lan Sizhui's arms, nearly toppling them both.
"Mistress," Lan Jingyi said under his breath.
"It's not if he didn't offer!" raged Jin Ling, nestled awfully comfortably in Lan Sizhui's arms. Sizhui had a smile not on his mouth, but in his eyes.
"So it is your uncle?" Lan Sizhui asked finally, giving Jin Ling the patient smile Jin Ling needed right now.
Jin Ling looked away as Lan Sizhui placed him on the shore. His voice stuttered. "Not exactly. I – I saw – people I shouldn't – people d-d-doing things –"
"Doing what?" Lan Sizhui asked in alarm, just as Lan Jingyi slapped the closest tree in delight. The crack startled Wen Ning.
Jingyi couldn't help himself. "You did not! Wait, who was it? Your uncle? I bet it was your uncle."
"What are we talking about?" Wen Ning asked with dread.
"You walked in on your uncle and his wife fucking!" shrieked Lan Jingyi. He could not have been more delighted by this mishap.
Wen Ning gasped, and if he could blush, he would have been red as the Wen crest.
Lan Sizhui turned a pale shade of grey.
"It was an accident!" Jin Ling clamped a hand over his eyes, as if he could block out the memory.
"Jin Ling! Why do you always run when I call you?" Just then, at the worst possible moment, Jiang Cheng's voice broke through the forest.
The three teenagers and their Ghost General collectively found themselves in the painful position of holding back laughter, while simultaneously terrified.
As she passed through the bronze mirror, Mei surveyed the room before her. Qin Su had died in here, supposedly, and Wei Wuxian revealed himself, and revealed the culprit as Jin Guangyao.
She remembered these torture devices. Father wouldn't let her see them as a child, but she knew whenever Meng Yao had invented more, because Father had a gleam in his eyes. So she had snuck into the torture chambers to investigate, and once tried to twist her own arm off, just to see how it felt.
Her eyes fell on a curtain over a treasure cabinet. Something compelled her to lift the curtain, and she realized why as soon as she had lifted it.
Her breath hitched. This dagger – the dagger that showed face after face it killed, all people she didn't know but mourned – had been seized when the venerated triad had overtaken her home.
Did you take this when you killed him, or later? she wondered, turning the blade over in her hands. She only remembered blood, and Father's unseeing eyes, and escaping as quickly as she could. She didn't remember whether a sword or a dagger or another weapon killed him. She didn't remember much at all, or more likely, she didn't want to.
She really ought to have been more mean as a child. Her one memorable interaction with Meng Yao had come upon news of Wen Chao's death.
She had been inconsolable.
It was her fault, you see, because she hadn't liked Wen Chao enough, because when he had fumed about never being as good as Wen Xu, right before he left, she had told him 'die and then you will be as good.'
"Wen Meishi, please," begged the servant, on his knees.
Him. That traitor, the one Father liked and she usually pitied. Meng Yao.
"No!" she cried, shoving him so hard he tumbled out of position. "I want my brother back! I don't want anything else!"
Just then, her door opened. The room was darkened by the figure of Wen Ruohan.
Now she had done it. A servant off his knees is to be killed immediately. Meishi winced and grabbed the man's wrists, tugging on him. "I'm sorry. Please, get up."
She spun around, looking at Father's chest instead of his surely disappointed eyes. She forced herself to stand between Father and Meng Yao. "Father, that was my fault, not his."
"I know," Father said, and Meishi shuddered in relief. To the servant he added, "Fall again, and I will not be so lenient next time."
"Thank you, Master Wen." With a bow, Meng Yao padded away on his knees.
"Meishi." Father's voice was a growl.
"Father." She trembled slightly, tears leaking down her cheeks. She bowed to mask the continued fall of tears.
"I – I – I want Wen Chao and Wen Xu back."
"And Wen Zhuliu?"
Meishi's cheeks reddened. "I want them all back."
To her dismay, her voice cracked, releasing a sob.
And then something happened that had never happened before, and would never happen again. Father picked her up, as if she were a child, and held her tight. She could feel his dagger hidden amongst the linen cloth, and for a moment, she still felt safe, as he let her cry into his linen robes.
"Don't pretend you didn't hear me calling," Jiang Cheng said crossly. He stood at the edge of the clearing in the forest. His eyes glowed with impatience.
"Um." Jin Ling looked at the ground.
Jiang Cheng clenched his teeth. All three brats were all avoiding his gaze. Wen Ning looked properly ashamed, but Lan Jingyi had a telltale smirk on his downward face, yes he did.
Unbelievable. He had told them. This felt like treason.
"Jin. Ling."
His nephew jerked, as if he were afraid of his uncle.
Naturally. Who wouldn't be afraid or embarrassed by Jiang Cheng? He was pathetic.
Jiang Cheng swallowed a maelstrom of self-loathing. This was about Jin Ling's own good, not his own. "You are the leader of Jin Sect. You cannot run off without anyone accompanying you!"
"I was inviting you earlier," spluttered Jin Ling. "Really. That's the only reason I came in!"
Both uncle and nephew turned green.
Lan Jingyi was obviously biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing.
Lan Sizhui, meanwhile, looked properly penitent. Jiang Cheng regarded him as the most tolerable of the miscreants here.
Jin Ling inched closer to Wen Ning, as if expecting the Ghost General to defend him from any and all harm.
Wen Ning, meanwhile, felt certain he would think fondly of this moment once Jiang Cheng no longer pointed a purple whip directly towards him.
Fairy bounded up to Jiang Cheng, hoping for treats. Well, at least the dog's carefree attitude meant there were no demons nearby.
Jiang Cheng's eyes swept from Wen Ning to his nephew and back again. "Jin Ling, stop emotionally blackmailing the Ghost General."
"I don't mind," said Wen Ning. He bit his tongue immediately, and probably too hard, but it wasn't as though he could feel.
"I mind," hissed Jiang Cheng. He pointed again. "You may be dead, but you shouldn't – you shouldn't contribute to the corruption of these youths!" He paused before continuing his rant. "And they shouldn't lead you astray, either!"
Wen Ning brightened. Jiang Cheng didn't hate him enough to assume his very presence corrupted? This was a nice change.
Jiang Cheng was displeased. His words had clearly not offended Wen Ning enough. "You're coming back now, Jin Ling."
"Yes, sir." Jin Ling motioned towards his dog. "Come on, Fairy."
Wen Ning's eyes widened as Jin Ling lightly but unmistakably brushed his sleeve against Lan Sizhui's.
Lan Jingyi met Wen Ning's gaze and winked.
"What are you winking at? Go home, before Lan Wangji punishes you both for breaking curfew!" barked Jiang Cheng.
"You won't tell? Thank you, sir," breathed Lan Sizhui.
Jiang Cheng's mouth opened. At first, he thought the kid was being sarcastic, but no, this child was too sincere. "Fine. Get lost before I change my mind."
Meishi wiped her eyes. She had been mesmerized by this treasure vault for too long. Some would find a macabre corpse-cutting table, runed talismans and an altogether atmosphere of resentful energy most unpleasant. But for Mei, she was reminded of home, and despite the despair, she almost enjoyed this place.
Her hand shot out to the bookshelf. Pages and pages written by the Yiling Patriach himself.
Ha, the very man to whom she had served tea at her wedding. And found it quite difficult to hate his smiling, mischievous face. Taken together with the kindness he had shown Wen Ning and Wen Qing, she felt a confusing gratitude that he could live a free man now.
But she still resented his murder of her family.
She flipped through several books, anxiety increasing, until she found a scroll with the name she desired: Wen Ning.
Thank you, Wei Wuxian, she thought grudgingly.
Wen Ruohan had tormented thousands, too. Perhaps, she thought as her heart rate relaxed, both of them deserved second chances.
She wouldn't hate Wei Wuxian so long as she could have her family again.
Before Jiang Cheng could return, Mei slipped out of the room. She pricked her finger and, removing scissors from her robes, fashioned a paper doll. Her message to Nie Huaisang was written with her own blood an sealed for all eyes but his.
She lay down on the bed. If Jiang Cheng returned, he would think her dreaming. Time to fly, all the way to Nie Sect.
"I prefer moths to butterflies. They're fluffier," said Lan Jingyi, as they flew on their swords back to the Cloud Recesses. The misfortune of Jiang Cheng had him merry despite their lack of hunting success.
"Ah." Lan Sizhui stopped short in the sky. "This isn't a moth."
Brats! thought Mei. It was fortunate that she had sealed the note.
"I can't read it. I know it says something, but I can't read it. There's a powerful energy in such a small paper doll," puzzled Lan Sizhui.
"Let me see." Lan Jingyi leant over and nearly toppled himself and Wen Ning off his sword. "Oh, dammit!"
The paper doll had flown away.
"Thank you, Lan Jingyi," Mei muttered to herself. The next time she met the kid, she would buy him a present. He wouldn't know why, but that was okay.
"That was a queer feeling, to be sure," said Lan Sizhui as they landed just outside the Cloud Recesses. "There was something dark about it."
"Blood," said Wen Ning.
The two youths turned to him.
"It was written in blood." He paused. "I could not discern the words, either."
"Well, we'll see if we can concoct an excuse to mention it to Lan Qiren tomorrow," suggested Jingyi.
"An excuse? We ought to go with the truth," argued Lan Sizhui.
"But then we'll have to admit we snuck out. Lan Sizhui, you wouldn't want to ruin Jiang Cheng's one gesture of mercy."
"It was embarrassment, not mercy," countered Sizhui
Just then, a tall figure darkened the moonlight, cutting off their path.
Lan Jingyi's face fell.
"I'm sorry, young masters," said Wen Ning.
"It's not your fault," said Lan Jingyi, glumly.
Hanguang-Jun stood before them.
"Hi," said Jingyi with an awkward wave.
"I planned it," Lan Sizhui blurted, gesturing Wen Ning back into the shadows. "Blame me."
Lan Wanji sighed. His expression was ever inscrutable. "I do."
Meishi shook herself free of the paper doll as Jiang Cheng entered the room with a particularly miserable face. Nie Huiasang had just caught her, and she was grateful to escape his increasingly morose countenance.
"Yes?" Meishi waited to say anything. She watched him carefully.
"What?!" He finally demanded, kicking the door shut.
"Do you want to talk?" Her voice was calm and firm. Completely proper, again.
"There's nothing to talk about, except it isn't possible to punish a Sect Leader other than threats." Jiang Cheng kicked the wall this time. "Even if he's a child!"
"Please spare the wall." There was a note of humor in her voice.
He whirled around to glare at her.
"That face. There's quite a resemblance between you and your nephew," Mei replied, raising an eyebrow.
Jiang Cheng softened, even though he was quite certain she meant to poke fun at his sour expression. But any resemblance between him and Jin Ling felt like a blessing.
"I've failed him," he said instead, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I suppose you don't mean the unfortunate interaction tonight," Mei said. She arose from the bed and crossed the room to stand before him.
She was merely asking for weaknesses. To destroy him, she reassured herself.
"Tell me," she said, as serious as she could.
He shook his head, but the bitter words began to spill forth. "He's running wild with those Lan brats. He'll turn into Wei Wuxian next."
"Mmm." Wei Wuxian, who murdered Wen Chao and JiaoJiao. Wei Wuxian, who saved Wen Ning and gave Mei hope for revenge.
Her voice came out sad. "Would that be so bad?"
Hoenstly, she wasn't sure herself.
Jiang Cheng gaped at her.
No, it really wouldn't, but he had spent thirteen years believing it would be, and he wasn't quite willing to abandon his conviction. He'd executed and tortured many demonic copycats to ensure they would never be able to become like Wei Wuxian. To say that Wei Wuxian was good, and he was, was to say that he had been wrong his entire life.
And he had been.
"You love your brother and your nephew, Jiang Cheng." Mei reached out a hand, only to hesitate. "But, for what it is worth, your nephew is more like you than you think."
"How unfortunate for him," he replied with a laugh. He spun around on his heel and flopped backwards onto the bed, like a petulant teenager. "I should not be the surviving Jiang. Did you know, Meishi? My father hated me. He wished Wei Wuxian was his son. Because Wei Wuxian knew the meaning of 'achieving the impossible,' our motto, and I, I was too straight-laced. Too rule abiding. How was I supposed to know that diabolism would have earned his love more than obedience?"
Meishi was shocked. Sure, the entire cultivation world had heard rumors of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan's infamous marriage. But this.
Jiang Cheng reminded her of Wen Chao, in the strangest of ways.
In their father's eyes, Wen Chao could never live up to Wen Xu. She recalled him throwing a similar fit, uttering remarkably similar words, to her when she was all of seven.
The difference between her husband and her brother was simply that Jiang Cheng had never given up, whereas Wen Chao accepted his father's displeasure and drowned his sorrows in lust just to feel wanted.
There were words on her tongue, words she often wished she had said to Wen Chao once she was old enough to think of them.
She could say them now, to the man who helped kill her brother instead.
Jiang Cheng's eyes had been closed, but they popped open once he felt arms wrapping around him and tears dripping onto his cheek.
"Don't you hate yourself. Don't you dare do that." She shook her head. "Your father never should have treated you like that, but that's on him, not you."
Jiang Cheng growled. "He was a good man!"
"Yes!" Mei's lips trembled. She rubbed his shoulder. "He also treated you wrong, and it's okay to mourn. You still – you still deserved to grow up with him alive."
She'd long known Wen Ruohan had done evil, inexcusable things. It didn't change that she wanted him alive. We both deserved our parents alive.
"Don't hate yourself. You're enough," she murmured, over and over. "Even if he never recognized it, you're enough. I bet he would think highly of you now – resurrecting your sect, winning a war, reconciling with your brother, raising a nephew. You have achieved the impossible. You're enough, and you always were."
She paused. Suddenly, Jiang Cheng reached out and grabbed her.
Mei was startled, but he merely pressed her close to his chest. A hug, and an awkward one at that, and yet she felt more connected with him right now than she had when they were physically intimate.
His breath was ragged, and she saw tears in his eyes as he held her.
Mei reached out to wipe them away before they spilled onto his face.
In the back of her mind, she thought, If I don't hate you, you shouldn't hate yourself.
