when jin ling is seven, he comes back quiet and reflective to lotus pier after a trip to carp tower. jiang cheng is automatically suspicious: jin guangyao and all the lanling jin attendants dote on their young heir so much that he's usually a holy terror for the next two weeks.

but this time, he doesn't whine when jiang cheng hauls him out of bed to perform calisthenics outside in the hazy dawn air, and eats the same breakfast as the other disciples without insisting that being the sect heir entitles him to an extra helping of youtiao.

jiang cheng stops by jin ling's lessons and finds his tutors praising him for how much he must have practiced while he was away: a far cry from their usual despair after a trip to carp tower.

his nephew doesn't preen, instead smiling meekly at the praise — jiejie's smile.

in the afternoon, jiang cheng hears petitions, dispensing justice and dispatching cultivators to deal with spirit disturbances. jin ling sits in his usual chair beside the lotus throne, perfectly still in jiang cheng's peripheral vision rather than his normal fidgeting.

when jin ling's strange mood persists at supper, jiang chang has had enough.

"what's gotten into you?" dropping his chopsticks with a clatter, he reaches across the table and slaps a palm to jin ling's forehead. "are you sick? did those jin relations of yours let you get sick?"

"i'm fine," jin ling says. his huffy little glare reassures jiang cheng even more than the coolness of his brow. "i had a nice time. it was fun."

"fun? what kind of fun?" jiang cheng grits his teeth, thinking of the rumors about the 'fun' at carp tower in jin guangshan's time.

"xiao shushu's sworn brother was visiting too," jin ling says.

jiang cheng has worked with zewu-jun often enough over the years to know that he isn't nearly as dour as his younger brother, but "fun" still feels like a stretch.

"he brought his nephew with him," jin ling adds.

"did he?" jiang cheng hadn't heard anything about hanguang-jun adopting a son, but the idea that he'd ever look at a woman long enough to get her in trouble, much less marry, is even more absurd.

(he won't think about why he's so certain of this. won't. can't. it's irrelevant.)

"lan yuan. he's eleven and he has a sword," jin ling says, warming up to the subject. "there are a lot of rules he has to follow."

jiang cheng snorts, remembering the ant-like characters that crawled across a giant stone wall. "i'll bet."

jin ling is looking at him intently.

his eyes are dark and so reminiscent of his mother’s that jiang cheng has to look away.

“you’re too young for a sword,“ he snaps. “you’ll get yours at twelve, like every jiang disciple.”

“i know,” jin ling says quickly. “that’s not what i meant.”

“it may have been your father’s, but your fancy shushu doesn’t decide when you get it, and you can’t just sawn around like one of those frigid lans and expect everyone to—“

“i wasn’t, i swear!”

“you’re of this sect,” jiang cheng says. “don’t forget it or i’ll break your legs.”

“i won’t,” jin ling says.

“don’t!”

“i won’t!” jin ling’s eyes blaze — jiang cheng flashes back to the few times in his childhood he can remember his sister really getting angry.

“well.” jiang cheng settles back in his seat. “all right then.”

after that, jin ling seems to be back to his usual self — refusing to take a bath, arguing against his bedtime, trying to sneak fairy in from the kennel to spend the night in his room. the same brat as ever, much to jiang cheng’s vocal exasperation and secret relief.

when jiang cheng is almost ready to turn in himself, he peeks into jin ling’s chamber the way he always does on the first night back, just to make sure.

when he opens the door, a voice calls out. “uncle?”

“go to sleep,” jiang cheng says, trying for soft but ending up too stern.

“uncle, please,” and the quaver in his voice has jiang cheng stepping inside.

jin ling is curled up on his side. moonlight bounces off the water outside, casting his frowning features in silver.

“i have a question,” he says.

“it’s time for sleep, not questions.”

“just one,” jin ling sitting up in bed.

jiang cheng sighs. “one,” he says, going over to push him back down. he crouches beside him, smooths the blanket back around his shoulders. "and it better be a good one."

“lan yuan — he’s an orphan too. his parents died in the war.”

given how gusu had suffered under wen xu, it made sense for the lans to make an heir of one of its orphans.

"many people’s parents died in the war,” jiang cheng tells him. "mine did too."

“i know but.” jin ling looks up. “how come he got to have a new dad, and i don’t?”

years ago, at his first cultivation conference as sect leader, nie huaisang had gotten so drunk that jiang cheng had to help him back to his room.

slumped against him, nhs had asked, "what did it feel like when your core was crushed?"

it's the only time anyone's ever asked him.

jiang cheng had played it off: "probably close to how your head will feel tomorrow," he said, and shoved him friend onto his bed.

the truth was, he couldn't describe it. language failed. there were no referents to which he could compare that singular, searing pain.

until now.

jin ling is watching him. the history of his family is written on his every feature: a book jin ling himself doesn't know how to read, and one jiang cheng can hardly bear to.

"some things cannot be replaced," jiang cheng tells him. "their absences cannot be changed, only borne."

"but i want you— " jin ling must see something in jiang cheng's face. he stops.

"it's not fair," he says instead.

for the first time since jin ling was small enough to fit into the crook of his arm, jiang cheng kisses the crown of his head.

"no," he says. "it's not."

[END]

....i have no idea why i did this to myself or to any of you

omg thank you all for reading this hahaha stay tuned for more agony and GENERATIONAL TRAUMA FEELS

ps in case anyone would like a bit more pain: https://twitter.com/weiyikes/status/1245120227559591937?s=20