If Jiang Cheng was in love with someone, there was only one person who appeared a viable candidate to Lan WangJi. And Lan WangJi was not happy about it. He was not happy at all.

First, SiZhui and Jin Ling. Which he liked the idea of. But now…

"Why are you not sleeping?" demanded Wei WuXian, sipping on the jar of Emperor's Smile that they had confiscated from the juniors. "It's past nine, WangJi."

Maybe he wanted some alcohol. No, no, he didn't. He kept a scowl on his face.

"Okay." Wei WuXian gulped the last of the wine and wiped his mouth, heading over to plop down next to Lan WangJi. He snuggled up to his chest. "Wanna tell me what's going on?" He batted his eyelashes, craning his neck back to gaze up into his husband's face.

He could not resist. "Your brother," managed Lan WangJi.

"Yes?"

"And my brother."

"Yes?" Wei WuXian did not appear to put it together. Lan WangJi arched his brows. "Oh—oh! No, no, Jiang Cheng's never expressed interest in men—"

"Neither had you, before me," Lan WangJi pointed out.

Wei WuXian tittered, grinning. "Yes, but—Jiang Cheng—what makes you—"

Lan WangJi exhaled. "Who else is there? It's surely not my uncle."

Wei WuXian studied the ceiling, brow creased. "Couldn't be be someone at home, or—"

"No, and you know it. They talk a lot."

Wei WuXian tapped his chin. "So, my brother—likes your brother—then does your brother—" He clapped his hands together. "Well, that's great!"

"Is it? It's your brother."

"Yes, and—" Wei WuXian's face fell. "Okay, he's emotionally—not well-developed—but he's making some steps. Even tonight, he made some steps. And let's not forget I'm—"

"You are no worse than he is," Lan WangJi cut in.

Wei WuXian swallowed.

"Can I talk to him?" asked Lan WangJi.

"Are you going to threaten him?" Wei WuXian wiggled his eyebrows.

"Maybe." Not really. But XiChen had just had his heart broken. By Jin GuangYao. He couldn't stand seeing anguish riddling his brother's face again.

Then again, Lan WangJi remembered the scowl on XiChen's face when he arrived back at the Cloud Recesses, Wei Ying unconscious on his back, rushing for medical supplies as he held him. Wei WuXian's side had been cut through by Jin Ling's sword, and Lan WangJi laid him down on the bed in a secluded room, the red blood of someone he loved slicking his fingers.

"You will be okay," he whispered to Wei WuXian's unconscious form, just like he had to him years before, after the massacre in the Nightless City. He knew it was going to end, and still, he couldn't leave him. You are not what they say you are. You're more than just that.

"WangJi." His brother's voice broke through the curtains. Lan WangJi did not even turn around, holding WuXian's limp hands, passing spiritual energy to him.

It looked the same as before.

"WangJi," XiChen said again.

He looked over his shoulder and swallowed.

"I'm not here to make rash decisions, but I will take your—what is happening for confirmation of what I've heard." XiChen exhaled. "He is Wei WuXian, isn't he?"

Lan WangJi nodded. He had never lied to his brother.

"And you've known?"

He nodded again.

XiChen's jaw set. "And he's been teasing you for—"

"He—"

"Has been mocking you, and still you care about him?"

Lan WangJi had no answer. He saw no malice in Wei WuXian's actions. Maybe he thought Lan WangJi liked the teasing. Maybe he liked it. Did it matter? Either way, he loved him. "Mo XuanYu was—"

"I know about Mo XuanYu, brother; he harassed Jin GuangYao." XiChen held his temples.

"He did not steal his body." Lan WangJi brushed a lock of hair off Wei WuXian's forehead. A bloody streak marred his skin. "I won't let them have him."

"I know." XiChen stepped forward, kneeling next to Lan WangJi. "I know how to heal, too. Let me help." He reached for the pungent poultices, and Lan WangJi knew he was helping Wei WuXian for him.

This time, he wouldn't have to protect him alone.

At the time, XiChen thought Wei WuXian was cruelly taunting Lan WangJi. Neither of them realized he didn't remember the Nightless City's aftermath at all.

Jiang Cheng was in pain, too. Lan WangJi knew that well. He just—wanted to protect his brother from ever feeling his own sword cut his heart, because the night he found the love of his life was the night his brother lost his.

Wei WuXian rested his chin on Lan WangJi's shoulder. "My brother and your brother—hey, do you think my brother even knows? He's awfully dense."

"No idea." Lan WangJi pushed his husband down.

Wei WuXian squirmed under him and grinned. "Well, I've got the better looking brother."

Lan WangJi snorted. He tugged downWei WuXian's pants, lowering his lips. Wei WuXian sucked in his breath, fingers digging through Lan WangJi's hair. "Ow, ow, Lan Zhan, my mouth's tired tonight—"

"Quiet," he teased, gripping Wei WuXian's thighs. I just—want to make you happy tonight.

You make me so happy. Just being able to be with you.

The next morning, Lan WangJi waited outside Jiang Cheng's room. The man blinked as he emerged. "You were not whom I expected."

"I wager it was my brother whom you expected."

"Excuse me?" Jiang Cheng rubbed his forehead, scowling.

You don't know. Well then. Lan WangJi folded his arms. It would have to start somewhere.

"He told you our argument?"

"He did not. I presumed it from your lacerating the tree last night."

"Oh. Well." Jiang Cheng lifted his shoulders. But his gaze darted along the wooden floor, skittering as if ashamed.

My brother would never make you feel as if you weren't enough. Don't make him feel that way.

"Jiang WanYin," said Lan WangJi.

He looked up.

"Let's put the past behind us," said Lan WangJi.

"You mean that I helped kill the person you love?"

"Yes, that."

"You'll never fully put it behind you."

"Yes," said Lan WangJi. "I will. Because the person I love loves you, so much."

Jiang Cheng swallowed. The dawning light illuminated his features. "And you think I hate my brother?"

"No," said Lan WangJi.

Jiang Cheng nodded.

"I didn't say it in time," Lan WangJi forced himself to say, dredging up the filthy words. "I—regretted it. Not saying it—if he'd known there was someone by his side—if I didn't put my own righteous reputation first—my own fear of him rejecting me—" We are the same.

Jiang Cheng flinched. "Are you telling me to talk to him?"

He didn't know what he was telling him. The truth, he supposed, would be the best option. "Eventually. But you could start by talking to my brother." Lan WangJi folded his hands. "He appreciates your company."

Jiang Cheng twisted Zidian around his finger.

"Shall we wake up the hungover juniors?" inquired Lan WangJi. "I believe Fairy could be of use."

Jiang Cheng laughed. "So you have a mischievous side?"

"I'm learning."

"Tell Wei WuXian to make some spicy congee," said Jiang Cheng. "For them, for breakfast. It'd suit. Oh, and play your guqin, but wrong."

Lan WangJi nodded. "They'll learn."

"My brother never did."

"He's learning."

"Fair enough."

"Why?" wailed Jin Ling when Jiang Cheng released a bunny into the room the juniors slept in, sending Fairy barking like mad. "Why is this happening?"

"Spicy congee for breakfast!" crooned Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi strummed his guqin to a horrific, warbling tune.

"I hate you!"

"You're lucky," warned Jiang Cheng as the boy clutched his skull, moaning. SiZhui's face pinched as if nauseated. A weird bruise marked the boy's neck, as if he'd fallen on something. On his neck. Strange. Jiang Cheng dismissed it. "When WuXian and HuaiSang and I got drunk once, Lan WangJi had WuXian punished the next day. With discipline rulers."

JingYi made a rude gesture.

"Do that again and you may find yourself on the wrong end of one," warned Lan WangJi.

No, you wouldn't. You don't hit people anymore, Jiang Cheng thought. JingYi slumped as if he wasn't worried at all.

Jin Ling pulled himself to his feet. Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to lecture his nephew on how his actions were shameful for a sect leader, and then he stopped.

How many nights did Jiang Cheng cry alone, hit himself in the face for crying, scream in his mind for his mom and his dad, when he couldn't say them out loud?

I don't want to be a sect leader!

And the only people who knew it—Wei WuXian and Jiang YanLi—would never call him on it. They waited for him to come to them, and he never had.

Jiang Cheng hauled Jin Ling to his feet. Fairy lurked in the corner, away from a nervous Wei WuXian. Jiang Cheng put his arm around Jin Ling's shoulders. His nephew frowned.

You're scared.

Me too. Still.

"Get yourself ready," Jiang Cheng said. "We'll have dinner together. We'll—talk." I'll give you some advice whether you like it or not.

I don't want you to feel alone. He squeezed Jin Ling's shoulders. The boy blinked at his uncle. WuXian beamed in the background, and then ran screaming when Fairy bounded towards Jin Ling. He thought of his old puppies, the ones long dead, that his father had given away to protect Wei WuXian.

It wasn't fair, but there was no fair solution.

I wanted you to have the childhood I couldn't. And your parents—but that wasn't your fault—that wasn't—

He remembered what Lan XiChen had said when he arrived with Jin Ling. If the cultivation saw your support…

For his brother. His reputation for hating Wei WuXian was strong. Too strong.

Not anymore. He was going to show everyone at this Discussion Conference. You are my brother. Jin Ling is our nephew.

I will not let anyone harm him.

And at least Jin Ling had two good friends. And a third. Jiang Cheng set his jaw and marched outside. Wei WuXian called after him, but he waved his hand. We'll talk later.

This is what I can do to protect you. Be the best person I can be. He used his jade token to head into the town. He was never very talented with music, not compared to the Lans or to his brother, but he tried to play his flute anyways.

Am I trying demonic cultivation?

No, no he wasn't.

"J-Jiang—Ch-Cheng?" stammered a voice.

He spun around, seeing Wen Ning shrink back. The corpse looked as if he wanted to crawl into the earth as opposed to face Jiang Cheng.

"I was calling for you," Jiang Cheng acknowledged.

Wen Ning was frozen. "I—I—" His stutter appeared to have resurfaced.

We killed your sister, too. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. "Wen Ning, will you help guard Jin Ling at this conference? We haven't caught whomever was trying to—and while they haven't made any moves lately, I can't rest. He's the only—blood relative I have left, and I—I've raised him since he was a baby. I can't risk him."

"You want my… help?" Wen Ning's voice wavered.

Jiang Cheng gulped. He nodded. The trees rustled their leaves above them, and Jiang Cheng could almost hear his sister murmuring, and Wen Qing as well, the girl who'd given him his golden core back.

"Why are you asking me? You c-can surely—and your men—" Wen Ning wrung his hands. "Master—I mean—"

"Wei WuXian did not ask me to ask you. I decided to." Okay, with some prompting from XiChen, but not for a few weeks. Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth. "Do you resent me?" He snorted. "Of course you do."

"Not for the core." Wen Ning met his gaze. "Never for that." He swallowed.

Jiang Cheng bit his tongue. It tastes salty.

"I always—used to act like a kicked puppy. Wen Qing used to say as much to me. And then—we were called Wen-dogs, treated like less than human, and I—it was terrifying."

"I'm sorry."

I'm apologizing to a Wen.

But SiZhui was a Wen too, and he wasn't going to let anything cause a problem for Jin Ling and his friendships with SiZhui and JingYi. If it eventually came out and everyone saw Jiang Cheng accepted him—accepted Wen Ning, Wei WuXian, all of them—I have power. I should use it properly.

"I don't think either of us ever had very much confidence," confessed Wen Ning. "Neither did Young Master Wei, but—he didn't care that he had no confidence. You and I, we cared. Care." He shifted his gaze downwards, unable to look at Jiang Cheng anymore.

Jiang Cheng's heart pounded, blood pumping warm through him like it wouldn't through Wen Ning, because they killed him like a dog. When he'd saved Jiang Cheng and Wei WuXian. "I suppose."

Wen Ning's hair ruffled in the breeze. "I will protect Jin Ling with everything I can."

"Thank you." Jiang Cheng exhaled. He spotted several familiar jars at a vending stall nearby. "Tell me, were you the one who bought alcohol for Jin Ling last night?"

"I wasn't." Wen Ning cleared his throat. "But—he did ask. JingYi snuck out in the end, from what I understand."

Jiang Cheng snorted. "SiZhui and JingYi will be by his side, too."

Wen Ning nodded. "Whatever I am needed to do."

"Thanks," he said again, shifting. He wanted to hide again. He held out a jade token to Wen Ning, his fingers tracing the corpse's cold skin as he dropped it in. "I will see you in a few days, then." He turned to leave.

"Jiang Cheng," called Wen Ning.

He knew what he was going to say. And he didn't want to hear it.

I'm sorry.

He clenched his hands. "What happened with—my sister—her husband—Wei WuXian has taken responsibility for it. You don't need to." Jiang Cheng walked away.

Lan XiChen leaped to his feet when Jiang Cheng appeared in his doorway. A container of ink clanked as it fell to its side, spilling black everywhere, staining the mat, Lan XiChen's clothes, the parchment, covering the words. XiChen swore.

Jiang Cheng scrambled to help. But the only thing he could find to mop it up was more parchment, already written on. He wound up just standing there, nose wrinkled.

"It's all right," Lan XiChen managed, staring at it. "We can just—leave it for now."

Shit. How do I ruin everything? Jiang Cheng rubbed the back of his neck. "I came to—tell you I spoke to Wen Ning," Jiang Cheng hastened to say. "As you suggested. He'll be protecting Jin Ling. Not in the conference, but outside it. I don't care what your uncle says. If he wants to fight with Zidian, so be it. This is my nephew's life on the line."

Lan XiChen's lips parted in a smile. "You—wow."

He scowled. Did XiChen have to sound shocked that he'd spoken to Wen Ning? Jiang Cheng's throat ached. "Well, anyways."

"You don't need to apologize," XiChen said.

"It is not your fault for loving him."

"And it's not your fault for hating him. Most would, given what he took from you."

Words stuck to Jiang Cheng's throat. He wasn't sure which one to say. He nodded instead. "When the conference is over, I plan to talk to my brother." There. A subject change. A shift, really. Not completely different.

Lan XiChen wiped a palmful of ink onto his white robes and winced.

"Better not let your uncle see," Jiang Cheng pointed out.

Lan XiChen actually chuckled. "True."

He nodded.

"He should have told you about your core."

He should have?

Jiang Cheng blinked. Was someone—actually—stating that his feelings mattered?

"When WangJi finally told me about what he—felt for your brother—I wished he hadn't—spent so many years in quiet self-loathing and I—I am sure Wei WuXian just wanted to spare you from that, but there are things—you can't protect people from. You know that well, though. You learned that too early. So did we."

Something cracked inside him, something leaking ink onto his clothes, too. But he was the only one would could see the dark stain spreading, cursing him, feel its cold viscosity dripping down. If he could just—speak—

"But—I never told him."

There. The words were out there; his tongue had formed them.

Lan XiChen blinked. "Told him what?"

The words came out a squeak, like a little boy's voice. "I lost my core to save him."

Jiang Cheng remembered it. He hoped he wouldn't get caught, but if he died, he died. He just couldn't let them take Wei WuXian. He'd lost almost everyone he loved, and he'd almost choked the life out of Wei WuXian for saving Lan WangJi and Jin ZiXuan—the person each of his siblings would later marry, even if Jiang Cheng had no idea back then. And he hated himself for that, because Wei WuXian wouldn't even have the decency to get mad at him for it.

I want what I do to matter! Don't deal with me no matter what!

But what he'd done never mattered.

And like hell if he was going to lose the person who loved him most, whom he loved most, the one who was still alive. He really thought he could escape them, dodge down an alleyway. And he almost had. And then three Wen guards jumped out of a window. They'll terrorized the inhabitants to get inside, cut him off.

And they bound him, gagged him, dragged him back humiliated, mocking his lack of talent. And the entire time he wondered whether Wei WuXian would find his corpse with his parents, if he would take over the Yunmeng Jiang Sect then. And he better, or else Jiang Cheng would haunt him from the grave.

Remembering any of it hurt. Jiang Cheng shook. He reminded himself he was in the Cloud Recesses, not a charred husk of Lotus Pier.

"Tell me," Lan XiChen said, and when Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, he couldn't keep it in anymore.

"Is this the son?" one of the guards demanded, throwing Jiang Cheng down on the ground in the place that had been his home since birth. Ash smeared his knees. Instead of lotus, he smelled soot. They ripped his gag out. He coughed, spitting black. The guard yanked his head back.

"Well, well," crooned Wen Chao, his scrotum-face twisting in a sneer. "JiaoJiao, what do you think?"

"Obviously," that bitch purred. "It's him."

"Come back for your parents' corpses? What a good son." Wen Chao patted his head. "I understand your bitch mother whipped my JiaoJiao. Will you do the honors, my sweet?"

"It'll hurt more if you do it." She held out the discipline whip.

No! He'd be marked forever if they used—Jiang Cheng tried to scramble back, but they held him in place, those guards, fingers digging into his shoulders.

The whip cracked.

A sting snapped against his chest. Nausea surged. His clothes tore. He doubled over. He gagged, forcing himself to swallow his vomit.

"He isn't fit for leadership," Wen Chao said. "Look how much a single strike breaks him down!" His grip tightened on Jiang Cheng's hair, twisting, pinching, pulling.

"You fucking—"

"Keep saying whatever you want. I'm still going to make sure the mistake that was you ever trying to cultivate is rectified. But keep you alive long enough to lure your brother back here."

"Make some sense, you damned—"

And then he saw Wen ZhuLiu, and Jiang Cheng knew. He bucked, trying to wrench himself free. "You—you can't—"

"I can. I'm a Wen."

"You can't! I'm—he's not—I—stop! Stop; don't come any closer, don't—I'll kill, I'll kill you—"

"You can't. You will be useless, worthless, hopeless—like you always were, and now everyone will know it." Wen Chao grinned. "That's what the sun does. It shines and exposes flaws—"

His words were so ridiculous Jiang Cheng wanted to laugh, be he couldn't, not with this—

"Should I gag him?" asked a guard when Jiang Cheng tried to bite him.

"No. Let him scream."

"Fuck you!" Jiang Cheng shouted. He wouldn't, he wouldn't scream, not now, he wouldn't dishonor—in front of his parents' corpses—

Wen ZhuLiu raised his hand.

"Please don't!" shouted Jiang Cheng. He hated himself, he hated himself, he'd never hated himself more. "Please don't do this. Please don't—anything—I'll do—I'll—"

Wen ZhuLiu's hand landed against his chest. And he felt it. All the energy he'd worked so hard to cultivate, all his spiritual powers, draining, melting, shuddering and dissolving. And he screamed and he screamed, the sound tearing through because there was no shame greater than what he felt right now.

And everyone around him laughed. When they left, they were whispering between chortles: "did you hear who he called for?"

Mom.

Dad.

Come save me.

But they were dead, and he might as well be, and so they had died for nothing.

Jiang Cheng swallowed. His knees were pulled against his chest, huddling like a child, his legs a shield from Wen ZhuLiu's hand which existed now only in his memories. And Lan XiChen sat next to him, hand on his shoulder blade.

Lan XiChen was quiet. Jiang Cheng slid his gaze towards him.

"Why didn't you tell him?" XiChen asked.

"Would it change what then happened?"

"No, but it matters."

What I did mattered? Jiang Cheng pressed his face into the crook between his knees.

"I watched them beat WangJi," XiChen said. "And I couldn't even—" His voice caught.

Which time? When the Wens burned it down? When he tried to save my brother? Both?

"In some ways, you're braver than me," said XiChen.

Jiang Cheng snorted. "No, I was scared. Scared of losing another person."

"But you still acted. That's brave. I could have stopped them from attacking—but I was afraid. Of lots of things."

Jiang Cheng turned his face to see XiChen's again. XiChen's hand still rested on Jiang Cheng's back. His eyes glistened with sincerity.

They sat together in silence, both of them breathing, things unspoken but still said between them. The things no one spoke of: shame, grief, regret. And hope.