尘埃落定 The Dust Settles

by Mona

“Are you at peace, now, big brother”, Nie Huaisang wonders quietly in the silent hall. Across from him, the candle lights flicker idly in a cool breeze. His eyes pass over the tablet bearing his brother’s name to those behind it. “Father, mother.” 

He no longer recalls their faces. War has blurred those precious memories and of the things others fought so fiercely to protect; from the very start he had only ashes left. 

“Sect Leader Nie,” a disciple calls out politely. “It is time to depart.” 

Nie Huaisang rises to his feet and pastes on the inconnus smile that, over the years, has become his default expression. A close observer might spot the shadows underneath his eyes or the light tremor of his hands that increases as his qi continues to destabilize - but who, nowadays, is this close to him?

“Let’s be off,” he cheerfully announces to his aides. “It won’t do to keep our new leader of the Jin sect waiting on this important day!” 

---

“Thank you for coming, A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli says as their carriage drives toward the entrance to the Jin sect compound. “Really. I know you didn’t want to be here.” 

Next to her, Wei Wuxian nods. It had taken their combined powers of persuasion to convince Jiang Cheng to make the journey - he would have preferred to disappear into the world again. But even after all this time, he cannot deny his sister. 

“It’s fine,” he murmurs and exits the coach before they can make another attempt at discussing his feelings. Outside, the sun momentarily blinds him, while a chorus of “Master Jiang,” echoes around him. 

Jiang Cheng’s lips twitch. He ignores the welcoming committee and looks around. The Jin sect lost little wealth in the war; in fact, the compound does not betray the fact that its proprietors fought a bloody battle not long past. Elegant trees line the courtyard, luxurious lanterns and banners line the walls. The roofs glint with gold, and even the floor tiles appear freshly polished. 

He wonders if this is by Jin Zixuan’s own design. In the back of his mind he can envision Nie Huaisang twirl his fan, saying: “Symbols are important.” Though, from what Jiang Cheng overheard, Nie Huaisang was not involved in organizing today’s event. Apparently, some resentments do linger. 

“Yanli!” Jin Zixuan rushes out of the front gate, displaying an utter disregard of propriety. No, he likely did not arrange the formalities today, Jiang Cheng decides. The bright smile on Jin Zixuan’s face takes years from him. That his sister’s eyes light up, too, reminds Jiang Cheng that some did, in fact, find their happy ending. 

Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan stop short of throwing their arms around one another, but anyone with eyes can spot their flushed cheeks. 

“Did it really have to be him,” Wei Wuxian huffs in fond exasperation. 

Jiang Cheng remains silent. His sister is too good for Jin Zixuan, yes. But that school time grudge is a memory from another life. Much has changed since then. They all paid a different price to be here today, and if these two can find happiness together, they shall have his blessings. 

---

After Jin Zixuan belatedly greets Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, the Yunmeng delegation receives preferential treatment. Not only are their quarters the very best, but Jin Zixuan immediately invites them to a private lunch. Wei Wuxian entertains them with tales of his own misadventures with Lan Wangji. 

Listening to him, one might think there never was a war. That Wei Wuxian did not nearly lose himself to a dark and dangerous path of cultivation, that Lan Wangji’s golden halo gained a darker hue. Seated around a shared table, they laugh as but a day passed since their time as students in Gusu. 

“I was surprised Hanguang-Jun did not arrive with you,” Jin Zixuan remarks. 

Wei Wuxian laughs. “He will likely travel with his brother. Zewu-Jun is … well, he is recovered, but Lan Zhan… well, don’t let him know I told you, but he’s fretting. Badly.” 

The image of cool and collected Lan Wangji worriedly hovering around his older brother evokes faint amusement. But they all recall the terrible state Lan Xichen was in when they rescued him from the Nightless City. That concern is not unwarranted. 

“It’s good to hear he is recovered,” Jin Zixuan diplomatically remarks. Then, because his diplomacy skills have yet to mature, he turns to Jiang Cheng. “How about you, Jiang Wanyin?”

Wei Wuxian cringes, but Jiang Cheng coolly lifts his tea. He’s been in too many tense situations for this faux pas to bother him. “As good as can be,” he replies glibly. 

Jin Zixuan’s face twitches. “Ah, I, I see,” and instead of leaving things there, he puts his foot in his mouth. “Will you be taking back the position as sect lead-?” 

“Zixuan, what are those dumplings filled with? I must say, they taste heavenly,” Jiang Yanli hastily interrupts, while Wei Wuxian looks about ready to empty his teacup on Jin Zixuan. The Jin sect’s sect leader to be flushes. 

“Oh, I meant -” 

Jiang Cheng smiles flatly. “Not unless a miracle medicine to restore golden cores is found,” he says and stands. “Please excuse me.” 

He walks from the room, ignoring the echoing “idiot” Wei Wuxian flings at Jin Zixuan. 

In truth, he is not angry. He has since made peace with his fate. It is only that those closest to him seem unwilling to accept it. 

---

In the evening, Jin Zixuan formally ascends to sect leader. An emperor’s coronation would not be as grand, and the festivities last deep into the night. Nie Huaisang drifts through the crowd, smile on his face and fan in hand. He exchanges greetings and pleasantries and moves on. 

Unsurprisingly he has few friends in the crowd. Despite the key role he played in the war, both his strategies and closeness to Wen Ruohan have left his allies wary. 

Not that he blames them, Nie Huaisang thinks to himself. Still, his eyes stray to the center of the hall where Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji all chat, basking in golden light. The war cost them dearly, Nie Huaisang has no illusions about that. Yet somehow, it did not break them. 

Rolling his eyes at his own dreary thoughts, Nie Huaisang decides the situation calls for fresh air. He drifts outside, instinctively finding a secluded pavilion on the water. Curtains flutter in the wind, glowworms dance in the air, and their lights mingle with the stars reflected in the water. 

It’s beautiful, Nie Huaisang thinks. 

“Should have expected you to come here,” a familiar voice greets and Nie Huaisang jumps. He hadn’t even noticed another person’s presence. 

“Jiang Wanyin,” he greets before he can stop himself. His heart sinks. 

Jiang Cheng musters him quietly. The silence between them rests heavily; filled with unspoken words and shared secrets. Yet in the end, it all fell apart, didn’t it?

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jiang Cheng announces and turns to go. 

He should let him go, Nie Huaisang thinks. He has no right to - “Don’t,” he hears himself say, and only years of acting lend him the strength to pull through. “You were here first. I should go.” 

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.” 

“But that’s what I’m good at,” Nie Huaisang quips, before he can stop himself. In the ensuing silence, they both acknowledge the lie. He’d been acting the fool before the world; but where it comes to them, Nie Huaisang wonders if he wasn’t, indeed, an idiot. 

“Perhaps that’s what we’re both good at,” Jiang Cheng replies, eyes turning to gaze out over the water. Music and laughter drift from afar; there is a reason neither of them is among the celebrating crowd. 

Nie Huaisang sighs. “Were or are?” he asks, daring to take a step closer.

It has been so long, and he has no right. But if he isn’t wrong, then Jiang Cheng has no wish to return to the main hall tonight, and for all the burdens between them, no one else here can truly relate. The blood on their hands, the lies they told - 

And even if Jiang Cheng tonight wears the Jiang sect purple once more, Nie Huaisang knows the man underneath is no longer the boy from before. Because he is the same.

---

Jiang Cheng understands the proposal in Nie Huaisang’s words. He looks down, finds a familiar face in robes somewhat more elaborate than usual. Nie Huaisang lost little of his boyish charm and attractiveness, but Jiang Cheng knows what lies underneath that mask. 

Oh, Wei Wuxian told him to stay away. He himself knows he ought to stay away. 

Nie Huaisang, after all, is utterly ruthless and callous. But they all forget Jiang Cheng used to be the hand executing those plots with no hesitation. He knows the man across from him. 

And he remembers what they shared. 

It’s not with a great deal of nostalgia or lingering feelings. Jiang Cheng buried his heart a long, long time ago. But tonight, everyone is celebrating, and he knows if he returns to his quarters, he will not find sleep. If anything, the nights with Nie Huaisang granted him peace. 

That is why he closes the distance and tilts his head down to accept the invitation with a kiss. 

---

Even sleep no longer comes easily, Nie Huaisang thinks as he opens his eyes shortly after he closed them. Once, knowing Jiang Cheng was next to him, he slept peacefully. Now, although his body is exhausted, his mind won’t allow him to rest. 

A familiar pressure settles over his chest and Nie Huaisang raises a hand to stifle his coughs. The metallic taste spreading in his mouth doesn’t surprise, and once the blood has lightened, he sits up. For all the lingering warmth in his bones, leaving for his own quarters seems appropriate. 

With a sigh, Nie Huaisang casts a look at his sleeping partner. The coiled strength and wiry muscle of Jiang Cheng’s body endured, though the old scars  bring to mind less pleasant memories. Still. 

“For all the mistakes I made,” Nie Huaisang says in a voice too quiet to hear. “You are the one I never regretted. And if I had a chance, I think, I would do it again.” Despite the pain, despite the despair, despite knowing one day it may cost his life. 

In the dark of the night, he allows himself that confession. Then he brushes the blood from his mouth and leaves. 

---

Jiang Cheng opens his eyes. Wonders if Nie Huaisang truly did not know he was awake all along. True, as he lacks a golden core, most cultivators fail to notice him. But Nie Huaisang knows that. 

And as of old he would not have missed the blood that splattered on the sheet when he coughed. 

So, is this a new, elaborate game? A trail laid to lure prey into a trap, to ensnare another unwitting bystander and turn them into a marionette dancing along to Nie Huaisang’s invisible strings?  

Or is this, as the rumors whisper, a sign of an impending qi deviation?

Dawn fails to bring an answer. But then, Jiang Cheng never expected one. 

---

“Thank you for hosting us,” Nie Huaisang says politely to Jin Zixuan the next morning. The Qinghe delegation is about the first to depart, claiming the long distance and inclement weather as an excuse. 

Not many are sad to see Nie Huaisang leave. 

“He hasn’t approached you, has he?” Wei Wuxian asks Jiang Cheng as they’re observing the proceedings. Jiang Cheng ignores him. 

“He better not,” Wei Wuxian continues idly. “After what he did… I mean, sure, he contributed quite a bit in the war, but that doesn’t excuse anything.” 

Jiang Cheng presses his lips together as an unbidden bout of bitterness rises in his chest. How would his dear once-again brother judge Jiang Cheng’s deeds if he knew the details? How would the entirety of the cultivation world think of him if they had not decided to consider him a pitiful victim to be pampered and paraded about now that they won? 

Something brushes against the back of his hand and tears him from his thoughts. Jiang Cheng glances up, surprised to see Lan Wangji gaze back at him. 

There is a strange understanding in those dark eyes that Jiang Cheng does not know what to make of. 

---

He returns to Lotus Pier. Not because he misses his childhood home. For him, the place belongs to other people; he no longer thinks of himself as the child that once roamed these halls. But Jiang Yanli, despite frequently traveling to Lanling, insists. And so does Wei Wuxian. 

They hope, as many do, that Jiang Cheng will take up the mantle as sect leader. But how can he, without a golden core? It would be a joke in the cultivation world, and an insult to the talented cultivators of the sect. 

“Nie Huaisang runs his sect more as an administrator than a cultivator,” Jin Zixuan had pointed out. 

And yet even Nie Huaisang possesses a golden core. 

Jiang Cheng keeps a travel pack ready. One day he plans to set out again; disappear into the wilderness. Then he will watch over his sister and the others from a distance, the way he used to before. They will be happy; he is certain now. 

They will be fine without him. 

By the time word reaches Yunmeng, Jiang Cheng has almost forgotten about the night in Lanling. He overhears the conversation on accident; Wei Wuxian talking to an unknown visitor. 

“And why would you come looking here?” Wei Wuxian asks. 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t catch the reply, but the cold tone of Wei Wuxian’s voice gives him pause. Lately, he hasn’t heard it all that often. 

“Qinghe is far in the north, do you really believe your sect leader would turn south if he wanted not to be found?” 

This time, Jiang Cheng does not need to hear the reply. There is one reason alone Nie Huaisang might go south, and in his right mind he wouldn’t dare to. Meaning he must have suffered a serious qi deviation. 

“Yes, word won’t get out from us,” Wei Wuxian assures and sends the messenger on his way. Meanwhile, in the study, Jiang Cheng sets his brush aside. 

The affair does not concern him. 

But he knows the answer. 

---

Today is a day as good as any, Jiang Cheng decides and takes his travel pack and leaves. As his boat glides over the lake, he turns to cast a long look at Lotus Pier and its warm lights from the distance. In another life, this would be his home. In another life, the faint ache in his heart would be warm joy. 

But fate has not been kind to him, and so he will hide his footsteps and turn north. 

And considering how long the journey takes him, he should not meet with Nie Huaisang in that old hiding spot in the mountains. But he does, and once more, they stand across another, pale and silent. This time, snow piles high on the ground and tall, dark trees tower over their heads. 

“People are looking for you,” Jiang Cheng says, and his breath fogs in the air. 

Nie Huaisang’s dark cloak billows in the cold wind. “There are always people looking,” he says dismissively. The instability of his cultivation at this point is difficult to hide; the veins on his throat stand out, and though he keeps a tight lid on his temper, Jiang Cheng senses the coiled mess underneath. 

“They came all the way to Yunmeng.” Jiang Cheng, however, has never feared that temper. Not even when he knew Nie Huaisang had plotted his death. 

Nie Huaisang closes his eyes. “We should part ways, then.” 

“We should,” Jiang Cheng agrees. 

Neither of them moves. 

The shadows have lengthened. At this time of the year, the days are short, and the sun already approaches the horizon. The wind carries the smell of fresh snow, and once night falls, temperatures will drop. Neither of them ought to linger. 

“You will not be returning to Lotus Pier?” Nie Huaisang says. 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t ask how he guessed, but merely inclines his head to confirm. 

“They will be heartbroken.” 

“The one they miss died a long time ago.” 

Nie Huaisang closes his eyes. “That’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“You think too highly of yourself,” Jiang Cheng retorts with a snort. 

“Perhaps,” Nie Huaisang agrees. “But still. You fought so hard to protect them, to make sure they are safe and can live happily. Do you really think they will be able to do so with you gone? Aren’t you being selfish?”

And that numbed heart of Jiang Cheng flinches. Nie Huaisang’s words are like poisoned arrows, and he knows they never miss their mark. “Then what do you want?”

Because for all they never miss, in times of peace Nie Huaisang lost his purpose. In the face of Jiang Cheng’s question, he grimaces and his hands twitch. “Nothing,” he replies with laughter that sounds not quite balanced. “What could I want? Wen Ruohan is dead. My brother avenged, the world at peace. What ever could I want now?”

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it,” Jiang Cheng counters. “We don’t know how to live in peace.” He exhales, allows the freezing air to fill his lungs and press out all the lingering aches and sentiments. 

Nie Huaisang chuckles wearily. “Astute as always.” Then his expression sharpens. “And running away from trouble, though that is new.” 

“Better than causing more trouble,” Jiang Cheng counters. 

This time Nie Huaisang flinches. “It’s not as if I have a choice,” he protests, and unbidden starts coughing. Blood paints his lips red, though a careless wipe of a dark sleeve vanishes all traces. “Once my Qi has stabilized, I will return. It’s not ideal, but I will do what I must.” 

“This time, I don’t think I will come back,” Jiang Cheng says, looking away from Nie Huaisang and toward the darkening sky. It is an uncertain future, but better than lingering as a spectre of a world that no longer exists. He will not haunt those dear to him, at least. 

“I see,” Nie Huaisang says after a moment. Wistfully, he follows Jiang Cheng’s gaze into the distance. “I wish you a peaceful journey.” 

A hint of envy swings in his voice, and it makes Jiang Cheng grin. He looks at Nie Huaisang, thinking that perhaps this is really going to be the last time. The last puppet of the once powerful puppet master cuts its strings, but the play has long concluded, anyway. 

“Take care,” he tells Nie Huaisang, and finds he does, despite everything, mean it. For all that went ill, for all the grudges there ought to be - had things been different, had they lived other lives, perhaps there could have been affection. 

Nie Huaisang bows his head. “Thank you, I will.” 

“I’m off,” Jiang Cheng says. A last weight lifts from his chest as he turns. Snow crunches under his feet with each step he takes. Remnants of an old life crumbling away, and Nie Huaisang quietly watches him vanish into the darkness. 

“Goodbye,” he whispers, voice carried away by the wind. 

Mayhaps one of them will find a better fortune. He must play his part until the day he dies - and that day, he knows, may be close at hand.