#i hope no one minds long chapters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

Text

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Seventeen

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Chapter 17 - MoonshineNightlight - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] Part Seventeen [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

“My lady,” you hear Grandfather say from somewhere behind you. Bracing yourself, you resist the urge to turn around and instead prepare for another uncomfortable conversation.

Grandfather has managed to invite—or find those already invited—anyone who has the remotest affiliation with the study of the Depths or herblore or spiritual matters and promptly introduced you. He then pays particularly close attention throughout the conversation to you and them. You think he’s hoping someone more versed in such things might be able to sense or notice something about you or Dale that will prove his theory about some sort of demonic influence affecting you correct.

Luckily, none have acted odd so far—that you could tell. Instead it just makes for sudden, very nerve-wracking conversations where you feel more than ever like you are on a stage, performing. You dislike galas and balls and such already—these new examinations are not helping, except that occasionally after one, the rest of the event feels far less tense than before in comparison. At least Grandfather doesn’t seem to be preparing these individuals ahead of time with his suspicions.

Also, to be fair, Grandfather seems to have pulled back with his other methods of detection. There have been no more overly spiced meals or suspicious flower arrangements—baring the first ball in Connton which had been covered in white roses. Dale thankfully continues to give no signal he knows either of you are being tested, but he’d managed to smoothly tuck a flower in your hair. Your blush at such an obvious display just to show the flowers lack of effect had hopefully helped sell it. Dale even pricked himself on a thorn to show it had no poisonous effects to himself and demonstrate his blood is still red. You think you’re the only one to notice that his bandage is removed only three days later—and that it was on the wrong finger for the last day.

You’ve gotten this far though. One more conversation won’t be the end of it all, you try to remind yourself. You turn with a polite smile on your face to see Grandfather walking towards you with a sanctif at his side. You hope your face doesn’t give away your sudden apprehension at being confronted with an actual spiritual leader. The white and red robes mark him as likely the High Sanctif for all of Connton. Also, he’s older than Grandfather, which doesn’t bode particularly well either.

While the spiritual colleges in the north in recent years have moved in a more scientific direction—away from philosophy—the more older and southern sanctifs are far more likely to preach anything associated with the Depths as inherently dangerous, rather than something to be understood.

Which is probably why Grandfather is helping this sanctif into the seat next to you.

“His Illuminance, Ellon of Connton has found the time to join us for the next course,” Grandfather says as he sits down opposite you. This particular feast has many courses, with seating on various tiered daisies each with five or so smaller tables, between which guests are encouraged to switch seats so that all may socialize—within their daisies, of course. You’ve ended up staying primarily where you are as there has been no shortage of companions, as had Dale.

However, as it is nearly time for the next course, it appears he’s staying down with the transportation officials—a pity because you had wished to talk to them as well and there is no longer enough room for all of them. Perhaps it is a good thing because you doubt this sanctif is going to have anything particularly good to say. At least Grandmother has also been pulled away by some magistrates or she would no doubt make matters worse.

You nod politely to the sanctif. “Greetings, your Illuminance. How are you doing this evening?”

“Greetings to you as well,” he replies, his voice is stronger and brisker than you expect given his age and the distracted way he has already begun searching for the wine jug.

Once his eyes land on the jug, he reaches for it, but is at a bad angle for him to pick up well, so you stand up yourself. “Please, allow me to assist you.”

“My thanks, my thanks,” he says, sitting back as you pour him a glass of wine, then one for Grandfather, since he is also new to the table. A cousin of Dale’s to your left still has half a glass and so does one of his aunts.

You start to relax when only polite small talk is made while everyone else begins to settle into their seats. You’re happy to discuss the weather and food as many times as you need to because at least you don’t feel like you’re going to say the wrong thing.

It doesn’t last though.

“So, where do you hail from, my child?” Ellon asks as he butters a roll from the ever-refilling baskets on the table, the knife making a scraping sound against the butter dish which you try not to wince at.

Swallowing down your inappropriate offer to prepare it for him yourself just so the noise will stop, you tell him, “My family fief is Portsmith and with the bay of Glittany.” Glittany is what most have heard of when it comes to your family since it is the name of the bay and the major seaport city. Most barely are aware of the name of the fief it resides in.

Ellon seems to have heard of it, but, given the skeptical huff he lets out at the name, not positively. “Those that live on the seas court death, if you ask me.” You most assuredly had not, but you didn’t think he much cared if you had. “The Depths are most clearly expressed there, below those treacherous waves. Even close to the shore, it can steal the unwary away far too easily.”

You knew there was a certain amount of superstition about the deep waters among some, but while all those who worked on the seas had a healthy respect for the sea, none blamed the Depths. Biting your tongue so you didn’t mention that the places in the world where the border was thinnest were primarily above solid ground, you merely say, “I am certainly no sailor, though I admire the bravery of those who are.”

He wags his finger, looking over his thick spectacles at you. “Mark my words, even living for so long with that salt air is dangerous. Why the great scholar and sanctif, Malarby of Airs said that those along the shore twice as likely to be taken than those who do not.”

You again refrain from saying that the scholar he speaks of had numerous critics during his own time, let alone now. At least, Grandfather seems skeptical of this claim, but it's also obvious he’s watching for your response more than anything. “My understanding is that the Glittany sacred community has procedures and safeguards in place to limit any such influences, however, I admit that I did not grow up in the city. I was not often well as a child and so grew up on our country estate, which is more than a day’s ride inland.”

“Yes,” Ellon agrees loud enough you flinch at his volume. “It is truly heartening to hear that some physicians know the healing air that can only come away from the watery death that surrounds us. Country air is not as fortifying or pure as mountain air, but I am sure that it was the best for you.” He pats your hand in what you assume he believes is a comforting manner and resist the urge to pull away. “We must find balance between keeping our family, our connections, with us in times of struggle and finding a truly blessed location where we can heal—as far from the physical negative influences as possible.”

“I do believe it was a far calmer environment to be in and my physicians were all very skilled,” you reply, not wanting to touch on his spiritual opinions. Were they more than opinions if they were from a sanctif? Regardless, you know the Glittany santifs didn’t talk like this, probably because they actually live and work next to the sea. You would pay money if this man had ever even been on a boat—or that he had and had simply immediately gotten seasick.

“I was not aware the sea was so treacherous beyond the literal dangers it presents,” Grandfather observes mildly, likely not wanting this topic to die when it is so close to where he likely wants it to go.

Unfortunately, that is all that Ellon needs as encouragement to continue in this vein. “Of course, anywhere the veil between the realms is a danger—whether man-made or natural. And while it is one folly to invite demons in yourself, it is another folly to go where they thrive. The chances of being taken in by such beings, of bringing home those who have stolen away, are far greater on the waters than on the land.”

Ellon is clearly enjoying the captive audience he has and you while you don’t believe any of this nonsense—you’d still rather he talk about the dangers of oceans than anything else related to the Depths. Without him asking, you refill his wine glass for him.

He nods his thanks with a smile and seems to really warm up to the topic, his voice growing a touch more theatrical as he says, “Beyond the threat of death from such supernatural dangers, there is the general threat of death from the natural. With that, there is the metaphysical danger which haunts these vessels. Many bodies are lost at sea, falling below those frigid waves—it is a far harder journey for the soul to ascend after death. Many no doubt, do not reach the light.”

Grandfather blinks at Ellon, clearly taken aback by this turn. “…I see.” From your observations, Grandfather does not have much interest or patience for the philosophical nor the spiritual, to your understanding, until recently. While spiritualists often warn against the Depths, Grandmother’s motivations and grudges seem to primarily come from a literal danger perspective, given the way demons and such influences have been used for violence—not hypothetical dangers to the soul.

“Are you saying that after death the soul can be held down by water?” a polite but skeptical voice interjects. You turn to see that Francesca, one of Dale’s cousins, has decided to join your conversation.

Ellon looks surprised by her question, but rallies quickly enough. “It is not the material involved but the distance, the fact that one is already below.”

“Then would not miners be similarly endangered?” she asks, raising one eyebrow up quizzically.

You know she hasn’t specifically joined the conversation to help you out, but you can’t help but feel like she has and it warms you to her. You are an adequate debater when prepared and a hesitant one when unprepared.

Ellon frowns at her argument, pursing his lips. “A miner can be brought up by his fellow workers and still cremated.”

Francesca hums, leaning back in her chair consideringly. “Is cremation truly so necessary? I know it is best practice, but I thought it was primarily for those left behind.”

“No, no,” he says, his mouth a grim line. “It is for both, the living and the deceased. The soul can be trapped if the body is not taken care of properly.”

“I see,” she replied, for all it’s very clear to you she’s still skeptical. “I was unaware that the body could become such a cage to the soul after death. I thought it was taught that death itself is what releases the soul from the body.”

That causes the sanctif to bristle. He make a show of frowning thoughtfully and drinking some more wine before grudgingly admitting, “Well, yes, that is the primary mechanism. And if there were no Depths, cremation would likely be unnecessary. However, given that there are forces working to keep a soul from ascending, we must do all we can to aid the deceased on their journey.”

“Pardon me,” you turn to see Francesca’s husband leaning towards you as well. “Are you proposing that denizens of the Depths or perhaps even the realm of the Depths itself can reach out to consume the souls of those born here based on location or method of death alone?”

“Of course not,” Ellon blusters, cheeks turning a bit red, “but the effect such things have on the soul are undeniable, beyond ill deeds weighing a soul down.”

“Actually, a recent paper from the Rokea Institute has called that into question,” Francesca says. “According to the scholars—”

“You trust one scholar over thousands of years of spiritual practice?” Ellon asks, his tone a mix of condescension and offense. “Scholars these days think they can measure and categorize and label each phenomenon they encounter and the second something cannot be so neatly sorted they fit it in where it does not belong, ignoring contradictory evidence. Rokea is among the worst for encouraging this type of thinking. Even the thinkers out of the Ha are more reliable in these modern times.”

Before anyone else could interject, he continues, “They decry hundreds of years of carefully documented experience, only relying on what they and peers they deem worthy have personally seen. They waste time questioning fact and reinventing the parts of the past they personally approve of to claim that knowledge as their own new discovery.

“Not to mention the poison seeping into the Vaomen universities.” That seems to be more what Grandfather, and you, were expecting rather than a spiritual debate about the nature of souls. “What used to be sole bastions of rational thought against their poor country’s perverse deal with the Depths has fallen to its influence rather than the reverse. They push aside safeguards and time-tested tools to allow demons full citizenship. How many times much a school, a city, a nation fall to those beasts and devils before this world learns its lessons?”

Francesca’s gaze darts to her Grandfather, likely fully aware of his and her grandmother’s opinions. As he does not look particularly upset, she cautiously says, “I’ve heard of no recent incidents at their colleges.”

Ellon scoffs. “Of course you haven’t. They are too arrogant, too proud to let such truths out into the world where they would be recriminated for their folly in front of all other accomplished and rational thinkers. They keep any word of failures and dangers to themselves unless they can be justified sufficiently. The deans of such institutions have fallen to their own pride and hubris—mark my words.”

The only good part of all this talk is that even Grandfather is beginning to look aggrieved, as though—perhaps—he might regret having sought out this specific sanctif, for all he’s certainly anti-demon. Grandfather is no believer in conspiracies, thank the light.

“I have always held that any interaction with the Depths is inherently dangerous to the soul even when my contemporaries disagreed,” Ellon puffs up as he says so, clearly proud of going against popular opinion in this and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “To see the world move so firmly in the wrong direction is disheartening, even with bastions of true spiritual stalwartness such as Northridge attempting to keep our country secure from incursions from Below.”

Both of Francesca’s eyebrows raise at that particular choice of words and she exchanges a suppressed but amused glance with her husband.

“Certainly proper precautions must be taken,” you take the time to say, hoping to move the sanctif away from more vehement proclamations. It also can’t hurt Grandfather’s impression of you to say the things you do believe. Just because matters have worked out, does not mean that they could easily not have. “Those who remove safeguards are truly foolish and we can only hope their lapses do not endanger more than themselves.”

The original Dale put his entire home in danger with whatever plans he had and you have no doubt he ignored safety measures as unnecessarily limiting, just given your assessment of his nature up to that point.

“Precisely,” Ellon nods with a smile for you. “Demonic influences are more common than anyone would like to admit and so one must be persistently wary and alert.” He punctuates this with raps on the table—luckily not nearly hard enough to knock anything over, though your hand automatically goes to your glass all the same. “The number of easy, necessary, precautions the everyman does not bother with is astounding. Of course, I must be even more careful, given my position as a person of faith and a lighthouse to others.

“Oh?” You don’t think he’ll need much more than that to continue. It's clear Francesca and her husband have lost true interest in what he has to say, writing him off as an eccentric. You can only hope their skepticism inspires Grandfather’s own. They’ve turned to talk to the companions on their other sides—unfortunately with two empty seats still on the sanctif’s and Grandfather’s other sides, there is no such easy diversion for you.

You’ve never been more relieved to see plates of fish being brought out in your life. Unfortunately, that relief is quickly dwarfed by the nerves that spring up to see Dale making his way over to you with a lady—bound for the openings still at your table.

“Yes, yes,” Ellon says, snapping your attention back to him. “Take meals for instance. I shall demonstrate as it is easily one of the times people feel most comfortable and yet are at their most vulnerable.” He begins digging in his pockets while Dale gestures the woman with him to the seat next to Grandfather.

As Dale takes the seat next to Ellon, introductions fly around—the lady is some sort of minister for Connton—and the sanctif’s is primarily distracted, but still polite. Dale gives no hint of nervousness at being introduced to a sanctif which is a good sign and—Ellon gives no indication he knows he’s just been introduced to a demon possessing a lord, so that’s good as well.

“Sanctif Ellon,” Grandfather says to the two latecomers, “would like to show us a device for…what was it again? Detecting poison or demonic influences of some kind?”

“Yes, quite right—both,” he says without looking up from his search. Dale goes a bit still at Grandfather’s words, but you think it is only because you are paying attention that you even notice it. Unfortunately, Grandfather is paying attention too. Still he’s further away from Dale so perhaps he didn’t.

“Here we are,” Ellon finally pulls whatever he has been looking for out of his robes. He seems to be brandishing a small circular glass, not unlike a monocle or other magnifying device, although it looks rather cloudy—or perhaps dirty?

“It took me years to develop and find the right minded people to help me in our research,” he seems to be turning sections of the small handle and the glass gets more opaque. “It’s still a little temperamental, a bit slow, but as I tell young people,” he wags his finger at you in particular as the youngest person near him no doubt, “life is all about patience and the determination to see something through.”

“Now, in addition to showing poisons in food,” he points to the dish of fish now before him. All have you have been served, but those in seats adjacent to Ellon have refrained from eating—even Francesca and her husband on your other side seem to be intrigued with your conversation once more. Likely because the sanctif is no longer moralizing and is instead explaining something practical. “It can also show possession in humans.”

He turns his head to look over all those around him and you feel your anticipation tighten. He ends up looking directly at you. “Pardon me, my lady, but would you mind helping me with this demonstration?”

While you are nervous at being the focus of some sort of demonstration, you realize it’s an infinitely better option than Dale. “Of course not,” you reply, your voice seemed steady enough, right?

“Now, for the resting state, the glass starts off as murky and gray,” Ellon gestures with the device, moving it around so everyone can see how gray and fogged over it is. Before he pushes some things aside and takes your hand in his free one, laying flat on the table. “But as I hold it over her hand,” he holds the glass steady over your hand. “It fades, leaving only a red-ish tinge over her hand.”

Indeed, before your eyes, the fog grows less and less thick, getting a faint red tint, like clouds lit up by a fading sunset. “This proves her to be human. The lack of color on the other objects in view shows them as non-living. Demonic influences would cause the smoke to darken from the original light gray or even blacken if held over a true demon.”

Everyone murmurs as they take a look and you make a purposeful effort not to look at Grandfather and see his reaction. Maybe this was a good thing after all, some proof he might believe. After all you truly aren’t influenced by demonic anything—beyond new Dale’s personality, you suppose.

After a moment when the effect seems to no longer intensify, he pulls away and you take your hand back, feeling more relieved than you have in days. “To reset it, you merely agitate the vapors once more.” He shakes the glass so it fills with fog again. You move to lean back in your seat, rather limp with your relief when he turns to his right, turns to Dale. All that tension is shoots right back up your spine, when he pulls the glass over Dale’s left hand, resting on the table. “After this quick refresh, it is ready to be used once more.”

Unfortunately, unlike with your hand, the fog does not lighten or dissipate. Instead it continues to swirl, perhaps from the sanctif’s motion, but also likely because of Dale himself. You can barely breathe, you refuse to look at Dale’s face, as the sanctif frowns. The fog gradually grows darker “Hm, sometimes it can get stuck so to speak. Nothing a good shake can’t fix.”

He pulls the glass away and shakes it even more vigorously than before. Your eyes can’t help but dart to Dale, who appears to be staring at his hand, but almost unfocused—like he’s concentrating on something you can’t see. You hope he knows some way to deceive this little device because otherwise…

Ellon moves the glass back over Dale’s hand. This time, the vapors slowly stop spinning and then, over what feels like ages but must only be seconds, slowly start to dissipate. Lightening and turning a mild pink, they outline his hand in an effect similar to, if not much weaker than when it was used on your own hand.

“Ah! There we are, see! On the slow side but ultimately works like a charm. The more use it sees, the weaker and slower it gets,” Ellon says with a triumphant smile before he pulls the glass away. “It needs a full day in sunlight to properly charge. So many courses means I’ve had to use it far more often this evening than usual. Forgive me for wanting to save its strength for the food yet to come.”

“Of course,” Dale replies, motioning with his right hand—not the one that was just examined. It stays where it is on the table, looking rather limp. “If you do not mind, I am rather hungry for this next course.”

“Yes, it looks delicious,” Ellon replies. “Please, please, do not let me delay our meal any longer with my sidetracks.”

“Nonsense,” Grandfather says and you finally risk a glance at him. He looks a bit shaken, but he also appears relieved. He smiles at the sanctif. “We greatly enjoyed your demonstration.”

“Good, good,” Ellon says with a proud smile as he begins to cut his fish. You shakily take up your own utensils. You hope no one notices Dale is only using his untested hand for his food.

You barely taste the food you put in your mouth, still coming down from the flash of fear from the moment Ellon turned that glass on Dale. You wonder if your heart will ever recover as it continues to spin through what might have happened if Dale hadn’t managed to subvert the device.

A cough from next to your stirs you from your thoughts. The sound loud and wracking enough that you glance over at him out of the corner of your eye. You frown, turning more fully when he drops his fork with a clatter. Ellon’s face is pinking and he starts to take deep breaths, though they don’t appear to be working if the way his breathing speeds up is any indication.

“Is something wrong, your Illuminance?” Grandfather asks, brow furrowing as the sanctif gulps down some water before pushing his chair back from the table, as if to get more space. Dale tries to help, but he can’t seem to grip Ellon’s chair well with his left hand.

“Yes,” the man's voice is much thinner than it had been, rougher despite the drink. “Need a doctor.” He coughs and then makes an urgent gesture with his hand when everyone just stares. “Now!”

“Yes!”

“Right!”

Francesca and Charles get up at once and head in opposite directions in search of a physician, while the minister tries to flag down an attendant who might find one quicker.

You hastily refill Ellon’s water glass, at a loss for what else you can do for him. What could be happening to him? Abruptly, you realize in all his demonstrating, he never actually ran the detection glass over his own food.

Grandfather puts the same facts together as you do, “Heights, have you been poisoned?”

Ellon shakes his head though, trying to look at the dish through eyes that are watering up. You don’t know what he sees, but some understanding dawns on him even as his breathing gets rougher.

“All-” he coughs, trying unsuccessfully to clear his throat, but it appears as though his airway is closing, “Al-lergi-c,” he manages to pant out.

“Oh!,” you hastily rifle through your own pockets. You only carry a handful of tonics at all times, but with your own allergy to keep in mind—this is always one of them. You pull out a small bottle and work to get the cork off hastily and explain, “Tonic of soma?”

Recognition lights up in his watery eyes and Ellon reaches towards you desperately. “Yes,” he croaks.

Once the cork is free you pass the little bottle over to him and he drinks it down as best he can, swallowing convulsively. Soma tonic is a medicine for allergic reactions, containing ephedra and other balancing herbs for opening up one’s airways. A temporary solution to be taken only when truly needed, it should buy the sanctif enough time for a doctor with proper treatments to arrive.

He drains the dose and drinks another full cup of water, before his breathing eases. “I’m sorry, I only have one dose. But it can be dangerous to take two as it is,” you find yourself saying. “It should be enough to help.” You hope that’s true as you refill his cup, your hand is shaking. You’ve never had to use the medicine more than once and that had been on yourself, not a prominent spiritual official. There’s no reason it won’t work and yet, you are scared that either it will somehow make things worse.

“Thank you,” Ellon manages to say between breaths but you don’t feel like being thanked is appropriate, not when he still seems in too fragile of a condition. Then two doctors descend on your table in a flurry of activity. You manage to communicate what you gave him, handing over the bottle with its neat label you had spent time months ago writing. The large bottle you get had been carefully dosed in several smaller ones so you could more easily have them in your pockets without weighing your skirts down oddly.

You find yourself explaining this to Dale, who had walked around to your side without you realizing. The doctor you handed it over to doesn’t seem to listen, merely reading the label, which is probably for the best. Instead, he turns to you and asks only, “Can we keep this?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you answer automatically.

Two footmen help Ellon into a wheelchair, which they then bodily carry off the dais, with one of the doctors going with them. The other stays behind to say, “He’s going to be fine, truly. We’ll give him some proper medicine and then monitor him overnight. He has his own medication for such attacks—it appears that the sauce has some sort of nut he cannot eat in it.” Sighs of relief come from those around you and you feel your own heart finally start to slow back down.

The doctor talks with Grandfather, who also came around to your side of the table at some point. Before he leaves though, the doctor takes a moment to say to you, “Very pleased you had this on you, my lady. Do you have a similar condition?” You nod ‘yes’ and he nods in reply. “Smart thinking to carry some with you. You’ve made this a far less close call than it could have been. My gratitude.”

He leaves before you can think of a reply. Slowly, you all sit back down, trying to return to some semblance of normalcy. Your table is rather subdued and you keep getting interruptions from others who come to ask what all the fuss was about. When this course concludes, you stand up to leave the table for the first time in the night, wanting to move to another table in the hopes of regaining something of a typical mood.

When the minister Dale brought over, indicates the two of you should accompany her to her table, she asks Grandfather if he would like to come as well.

“No thank you, my lady,” he replies with a kind smile. “I’m certain my grandchildren would prefer some time with others. I have plenty more to catch up with.”

Dale laughs and so does the minister. As you walk away, trying to put your finger on what was different about Grandfather, you realize that for the first time since the hunt, he included you once more in his family.

[Part Eighteen]

374 notes · View notes

guqin-and-flute · 11 months

Text

And A-Fu Makes 4–Chpt. 6 [3zun Raise Jingyi Au]

[EDIT: DANGIT, I forgot to add credit to this one too!! THANK you madtomedgar for the 'call me xiaoshushu' convo idea!!]

[Ao3 Link] [Series] [More 3zun Raise Jingyi AU]

A-Yuan opened his mouth--probably to say this was a bad idea again --but it was Jin Ling who shushed him this time. Outside the door, beyond the sitting room, they could hear muffled voices coming down the hallway. So, A-Yuan went quiet automatically (totally already in sneaking mode, even if he pretended he wasn’t.)

“--even awake yet?”

“Oh, undoubtedly. They vowed to stay up later but were out within minutes.”

Both A-Ling and A-Fu pointed to each other at the same time, mouths open in a triumphant, silent yell. 2 fathers at once! How lucky! Uncle Zixuan was coming back with Yellow-Father and they were going to get them both so good. A-Yuan, though, just looked even more uncomfortable with this extra grownup in the mix, but A-Fu wasn’t too worried; A-Yuan didn’t snitch, he just sorta squirmed, then did it anyway.

All 3 of them had been plastered around the door to A-Fu’s Jin room in their pajamas for a thousand hours with the hot sunlight coming through the window onto their feet, waiting. Back when they had woken up and found Yellow-Father’s bed already made and him gone, A-Fu knew that this was a perfect opportunity for Sneaking-and-Spooking they couldn’t miss. (He had decided to change the name of the game to Sneaking-and-Spooking, so he could win it easier--if he didn’t manage to sneak on someone, he could at least jump out and spook them! Jin Ling said that was cheating, but he just didn’t like how often he lost.)

A-Ling had kept whining about having to go to the bathroom and A-Yuan had kept saying that he was nervous about this and A-Fu had to be A-Voice-Or-Reason and calm them down to be ready--and now it was time!

The lock on the front door clicked and the voices got less muffled as it rolled back and the fathers came in. “Boys?” Yellow-Father called, and A-Fu made the fiercest shushing face at his cousins. When no one answered, the fathers started talking quieter, something about rooms being bigger--A-Fu was paying too close attention to the sound of their footsteps. One went to the set of drawers and one started walking around slowly.

Then, something terrible happened. Or, at least, terrible for the Sneaking-and-Spooking plan.

The smell of Aunt Yanli’s rib and lotus root soup wafted into their noses like a nice breeze. Yellow-Father and Uncle Zixuan had brought back special soup! A-Fu’s tummy grumbled all of a sudden, and A-Ling started sniffing all interested. A-Yuan looked at A-Fu with an ‘I told you so!’ in his eyebrows.

‘Told me so what?’ A-Fu scowled back with his own.

‘They have soup!’ A-Yuan’s chin point said. ‘ It could spill! Bad idea!’

‘You don’t know that! ’ said A-Fu’s nose scrunch.

“A-Ling?” said Uncle Zixuan from close by the door--he was the one walking around.

‘I want soup,’ said the pleading look Jin Ling shot at A-Fu.

‘You follow too many rules,’ said A-Fu’s headshake at A-Yuan.

‘What?’ said A-Yuan’s confused eye squint. (Okay, so maybe A-Fu was making up words for him and his face, so what? He knew what his best cousin-friend would say out loud, if he could.)

“Boys?” Uncle Zixuan’s voice was softer now, like he thought they were maybe all still asleep--even closer to the door.

‘I want soup !’ said Jin Ling’s frown, but, like, louder this time.

A-Fu waved his hands at them frantically to stay where they were. Then, he held up one hand and started counting down with it.

Jin Ling crouched down to be ready. A-Yuan nervously balled up his fists but did the same thing.

A-Fu bent his knees and took in a huge breath to shout--

“I know we’re not going to thank your bofu for bringing us soup by trying to startle him,” came Yellow-Father’s pleasant voice from right outside the door.

A-Fu blew out a huge breath with an, “Uuuuuuugh- uh! ”

He hadn’t even heard him walk up! Yellow-Father had won Sneaking-and-Spooking again. When he threw open the door, Yellow-Father smiled down at him from next to a surprised looking Uncle Zixuan. “Diedie, how do you know all of the times! ?”

Jin Ling and A-Yuan charged out together. A-Ling jumped up into Uncle Zixuan’s arms, kicking his feet and shrieking when they spun around together and A-Yuan hugged tight onto Yellow-Father’s leg. Yellow-Father looked all twinkly down at him and patted his head, then said to A-Fu, so totally unhelpful, “ Diedie’s are magic that way. Good morning, little ones. Did you sleep well?”

A-Fu’s annoyed didn’t stay for long, though, because then, it was Super Special Soup Time! It wasn’t a normal breakfast food they ate, but apparently, Clan Leader Jiang was coming to visit and meet the new twin babies for the first time in the next few days, and so Aunt Yanli had been cooking a lot. Since A-Fu loved the taste of it and he was leaving soon, she had sent some over with Uncle Zixuan. He was halfway through his second bowl, happily chewing on a big chunk of ginger when he remembered something.

Uh oh. He had super promised Gray-Father really serious he wouldn’t eat meat anymore. And Gray-Father had specificity mentioned this soup.

Yellow-Father spied his Thinking Look from next to him and asked, “What’s wrong, Fufu? Did you find a bone?”

“We’w…” Pointing his spoon at his steaming soup, he asked, “I’th got meat i’ i’, righ’?”

“Oh, Fufu, please don’t talk with your mouth full. Meat? Yes, it has meat.”

He swallowed. “What animal?”

“A pig!” Jin Ling announced triumphantly, banging the table in his excitement to be right, and Uncle Zixuan quieted him down with shushes, scrubbing his soupy mouth with a napkin.

Oh. Well, he hadn’t ever met a pig or even seen too many, and when he did, they were pretty big and loud and bristly, not like cute, soft bunnies. Plus, it didn't look anything like a pig.

Yellow-Father’s gave him a confusion look when he stayed quiet. “What's the matter? You like the soup, don’t you?”

“Well…yeah….”

Yellow-Father reached over and rubbed his back all soothing, smiling. “Then what’s wrong? Your Blue- die doesn’t mind if you choose to eat meat outside the Cloud Recesses when we make it for you.”

A-Fu glanced over at his cousins, who were looking at him curiously, chewing. Jin Ling had a little soup drip wobbling on his chin again and A-Yuan was munching on his mung bean pancake. He didn’t have trouble eating no meat--he liked the food at the Cloud Recesses and didn’t take breaks from it when he left like A-Fu did. But meat tasted so good and he was already eating it. “Well, Gray- die said it’s not convictioning….”

At this, Yellow-Father scooted over and scooped A-Fu into his lap. “Your gray die is not in charge of what you eat. Here--” He plucked A-Fu’s spoon from his hand and scooped up a good chunk of stringy strips of fall-apart meat. “Open?”

Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal after all. Now that he was really-for-real thinking about it, he didn’t want to have to just eat the lame Cloud Recesses food for his whole life. Plus, Yellow-Father didn’t seem to think that it was a big deal! So he happily let his yellow father feed him, wiggling around and dancing just like all the spices and yumminess were dancing around in his mouth.

Jin Ling shoved his spoon over at Uncle Zixuan, exclaiming, “Feed me too, diedie! ”

“Weren’t you just telling me yesterday that you were a big kid, now, and didn’t need help doing anything?”

“Puh- leaaaase ?”

With a shake of his head and a chuckle, Uncle Zixuan scooped up some of A-Ling’s soup into his mouth. So that he wasn’t lonely, A-Fu leaned over and grabbed at A-Yuan’s pancake so it tore into a little strip that he wiggled in his face. “Here, A-Yuan! Like a worm! Cheep cheep!”

“Ew!” A-Yuan laughed, scrunching up his nose, but he opened up his mouth to eat it.

Excited, now, A-Fu grabbed Yellow-Father’s chopsticks and scooped up rice--a bunch spilled all over both of them when he held it up over his head for Yellow-Father to eat.

“Fufu, you’re getting it in your hair!”

“You gotta eat it!!”

While Yellow-Father was picking the rice grains off A-Fu’s head, Jin Ling grabbed a chunk of pork from his soup and fed it to Uncle Zixuan, who looked like he wasn’t so sure about maybe dripping stuff on his robes. A-Fu knew that A-Ling just did it to be a copycat, so he got huffy and tried to crawl across the table to feed Uncle Zixuan, too. But then Yellow-Father pulled him back into his lap and said maybe only the grownups would do the feeding, thank you, though. For the rest of the meal, Uncle Zixuan fed A-Ling and Yellow-Father fed A-Fu and A-Yuan. Yellow-Father had a pleased smile as he wiped the corner of A-Yuan’s mouth with a dark blue napkin, saying, “No one should ever keep you from your food, boys. You should eat as much as you like when you like.”

At least it wasn’t all so serious as A-Fu had been afraid of! He had been a little worried he would get in trouble if he brought it up, since Gray-Father had made it sound like he couldn’t change his mind about it.

“I’m just real sorry, pigs,” he made sure to tell the next spoonful before it reached his mouth. “Maybe try not being so yummy.”

After breakfast, the fathers rounded up all the kids and gave them baths and got them dressed. (A-Fu tried to start a splash war with A-Ling that Uncle Zixuan stopped, but not before he got wet.) When they all trooped out to the garden, the Jin nannies were already there with the twins and A-Qiang. Apparently, all the for Sect Leader Jiang cooking made Aunt Yanli really tired, so Uncle Zixuan wanted to make the house all quiet so she could take a nap for the day. And so the big kids got stuck with the babies again . All A-Fu had to say was A-Qiang better not belly flop on his face again, or A-Fu was gonna lose it . His nose was still sore from yesterday!

He scowled at A-Qiang when he ran up to them, so Jin Ling scowled back at him. But A-Fu just wanted to play , not argue, so like, whatever. It wasn’t so bad, once they started running around together. A-Qiang was getting a lot better at walking and running, so they could at least play chase--plus he didn’t know how to be quiet, so when they played hide and seek, he would giggle and A-Fu would always find him first. A-Fu would usually be mad that he wasn’t playing the game right…but he really liked winning, so it didn’t bother him too much. It was even fun to hold him upside down to train him to do headstands until Uncle Zixuan told him to stop! (He didn’t get why he should stop, A-Qiang was laughing the whole time anyway.)

The roofs around them were so bright when the sun bounced off them that they hurt A-Fu’s eyes. Green spots blinked on his eyelids after he looked at the giant puffy white flowers Yellow-Father called peonies. They were the only flowers in the whole garden that he actually knew, and only because they were the Jin Clan flower--Sparks Amid Snow, his Lan teachers made them remember. The other flowers nodded in the breeze all around them, pink and orange and red and purple, buzzing with bees. A-Fu had gotten stung, like 10 times before, when he went trampling through the Jin gardens. He sometimes just forgot that they were there! They were such grumpy bugs and should just mind their own business.

Uncle Zixuan and Yellow-Father sat next to each other in the shade with their robes all spread out around them while kids played. Each of them held one of the twins, talking about boring adult things--probably about babies, because he could sometimes hear Uncle Zixuan coo at A-Zan in that embarrassing way that grownups got around babies where they acted all stupid, making weird faces and talked in high, silly voices. A-Fu really liked Uncle Zixuan, but that guy was way too okay with babies--he kept looking over at Yellow-Father holding A-Mei with a very pleased expression.

At least Yellow-Father was just smiling down at A-Mei sleeping, rocking a little and not making embarrassing noises. He would kiss her forehead and pet her hair, sometimes, but that was about it. Whatever. As long as he didn’t get any baby ideas like Blue-Father or make too much of a fuss, A-Fu was happy to leave him to deal with the boring babies.

It wasn’t until A-Fu ran past him, determined to show A-Ling he could cartwheel the best that he heard his father humming--and he screeched to a stop, almost falling over his feet. What. The. Heck!

That was his lullaby, the one about a little lotus flower in a pond who made friends with the moon! He stomped back to them, fists all balled up. “You can’t sing that!”

Yellow-Father squinted up at him against the sunlight twinkling through the leaves in surprise. "Shhh, Fufu. What’s the matter?”

He didn’t want to quiet down! Yellow-Father always sang to him to go to sleep, and that song was A-Fu’s favorite! Yellow-Father was his father, not anyone else's! No one else got to have him! The Jin kids got to see him a hundred thousand times more than A-Fu did because they all lived in Koi Tower together and it wasn’t fair!

He scowled ferociously down at the Jin baby--she just smacked her weird chubby lips in her sleep. “You can’t sing that to them! It’s mine!”

Yellow-Father’s eyebrows stopped squinching and he glanced over at Uncle Zixuan, saying, “Ooh,” all gentle, like A-Fu was so small and so special--specialler even than the baby. “I see. You’re right, it is your song, Fufu. My mistake, I'm sorry.”

Finally he got it. A-Fu sighed a huffy breath and crossed his arms. "Good.…You can sing something else to her, though. If you want. I guess," he allowed grudgingly after thinking about it for a second

Uncle Zixuan made a funny noise like a snort--but when A-Fu eyed him suspiciously, he was just letting A-Zan chew on his finger, not looking at them.

Yellow-Father's eyes crinkled up farther into a smile. "That's very thoughtful of you, Fufu,” he said. “What song should be A-Mei’s, then?”

“I’unno. But not the flower and the moon one,” he warned.

“Of course, of course.”

He sort of snugged her in closer in his arms when he said it, though, and shot a laughing sort of look over at Uncle Zixuan, who shook his head with a grin. That Uncle Zixuan was such a bad influence on Yellow-Father, giving him babies to hold and pay attention to, so A-Fu added, just in case he got any ideas, “And you’re not allowed to have babies.”

This made Uncle Zixuan and Yellow-Father laugh --loud enough that A-Mei squirmed, and they quickly quieted down. A-Fu didn’t know why they were laughing at him, and it made him scowl, but then Yellow-Father opened his free arm to invite A-Fu closer and even though he didn’t want to hang out with the babies and he didn’t get what was so funny, he snuggled in next to him. “Alright, Fufu; on one condition.”

“What?”

Leaning down, he kissed the side of A-Fu’s forehead and said, quietly, “That you’ll always be my baby.”

“I can’t stay a baby, die! I’m growing pains already! I’m so much bigger than a baby!”

“Ah, you’re right. What if you promise to be my xiao -Fufu forever, then?”

Well, he wouldn’t really be able to be anything else , so that seemed like a pretty easy promise to make, so he nodded. “Deal.”

He stayed next to Yellow-Father for a while, pressed right up against his side and chewed on his thumbnail as the grownups watched A-Yuan and A-Ling to cartwheel competitions and talked. (He wasn’t supposed to chew on his nails, Great-Uncle Qiren scolded him about manners, but he just kept finding his fingers in his mouth sometimes and he had no idea how they even got there.)

After a bit of them talking, Yellow-Father pet his head and murmured all soft down to him, “Do you think you’re a little grumpy because you miss Blue- die ?”

And A-Fu didn’t like that question because it made a bunch of tears rear up and clog his throat like they had been waiting to pounce, so he just shrugged and sniffled a bit. His yellow father squeezed him closer and kept stroking his hair back from his face, which helped them sorta fade away without coming out. “He’ll be alright, Fufu. Everything is under control.”

Uncle Zixuan reached over and squeezed his knee. “Zewu-jun is a very strong cultivator, A-Fu, and he’s in good hands.”

A-Fu didn’t like this conversation, so he just said, “Do you wanna see me cartwheel? I can totally do two in a row!”

While they were saying yes, they did, all the other kids came over panting and dizzy to collapse by the grownups for a bit of a break, so A-Fu got to be the star and show off all the the new tumblings he had learned in class, so that was pretty cool! He fell over a couple times and kept hitting his head. “Don’t help me, don’t help me, I can do it!” he yelled every time Yellow-Father looked like he was worrying-- Uncle Zixuan kept having to pat him on the shoulder to keep him from getting up and coming over.

Finally, he managed to do 3 cartwheels in a row and then one of the ones he forgot the name of where you landed with both feet together--and he only stumbled, like, the tiniest bit--and he felt like he was the king of the world when everyone clapped for him.

That feeling didn’t last super long, though. Because right after that, A-Fu saw his and Jin Ling’s nemesises .

Both Uncle Zixuan and Yellow-Father got ‘Jin-gongzi’-ed and ‘Jin-er-gongzi’-ed away to do some Important Business by some guy who poked his head into the courtyard. A-Qiang cried and cried to see his father leaving; so the big kids acted very grown up about it and didn’t make any fusses at all, to show him how it was done (even though A-Fu did feel a little grumpy about it.) The babies got given back to the 2 nannies that appeared to take them back home for feeding time. But then, the nanny that was left had to hurry A-Qiang off to go to the bathroom or something, telling the 3 big kids to ‘stay put.’ They were just about to practice handstands again when they heard a voice saying, “Oh look who it is. ”

It was Jin Chan and his gang.

Jin Chan was the worst. Whenever he showed up, it was a bad day, because he had a stupid face and a stupid way of talking and he never, ever had anything nice to say and he picked on everyone. He was just a little older than A-Fu, but he pretended like he was 10 times smarter and he was always followed around by a group of boys that were just as nasty as him. They weren’t always the same kids whenever A-Fu saw them, but they always followed whatever Jin Chan said, like he was a Sect Leader or something. A-Fu had run into him a few times in Koi Tower and at a few Cultivation Conferences, but he had heard even more about him from A-Ling, who had to live with him. He would trip people and say he didn’t, he would steal things or break them on purpose, he would make fun of things you were eating, or your clothes, or whatever. One time, they saw him push a kid into the Lotus Pier Lake. Last time they ran into him, Jin Chan said that even though his name was Lan Fu, which meant luck, he was an unlucky jinx that made his birth parents die.

He was totally Evil, and Lan rules said not to association with Evil--and A-Fu had no problem not associationing with Jin Chan and his gang, if he could help it.

Today, he was smirking and strutting around all slow. “It’s LingLing and the Lan babies in our courtyard.” His friends all laughed, even though he hadn’t said anything funny at all. There weren’t a ton of them this time, but they were all kinda tall, even taller than A-Yuan who was just, like, a couple inches bigger than A-Fu.

But A-Yuan was looking nervously around for a grownup, not like he wanted to use his tallness to help beat up stupid bullies. And A-Fu didn’t need an adult’s help telling someone to shut their stupid face. “Shut your stupid face, Jin Chan. We’re not babies,” he announced back, just as loud.

Next to him, Jin Ling puffed up, hands on his hips and said, “Yeah! And this isn’t your courtyard, it’s ours ; we were here first.”

The breeze that had been nice and perfume-y now seemed like an ominous wind on a battlefield in a legend. Jin Chan rolled his eyes, elbowing his friends, like they had said something funny, which made A-Fu’s mad go all boily in his stomach and he clenched his fists. “Aww, what are you gonna do, LingLing? Tell your parents? What’s your die gonna do? He’s just a son-of-a, and you’re just a son-of-a-son-of-a. You’re not special. You’re stupid. And plus your niang is totally useless.”

Jin Ling’s face and ears turned all bright red and he stomped over to Jin Chan, getting up in his face on his tiptoes. “You shut up about my a-niang!” he shouted. “Or I’ll--!”

A-Yuan hurried over and pulled Jin Ling back away from him by his arm--but he did exclaim, “You can’t say things like that!” back at the group of laughing older boys. “You’re being mean on purpose! I’m going to tell!”

“Oh, shut up!” One of the other bullies piped up. “Lan’s can’t tell us what to do in Lanling!”

Another one with mean eyebrows said, all smug, “Yeah. Plus, my yiyi said they’re both bastards.”

“Well, your yiyi is a stupid piece of crap!” A-Fu snapped back. ‘Bastard’ was a forbidden word in his family--he didn’t know exactly what it meant, but whatever it was, he knew it was supposed to be bad.

“And so are you!” A-Ling added, kicking a rock toward that guy with a scuff.

“Guys! Let’s just go!” A-Yuan begged, expression all worried, then turned and told Jin Chan and his gang, “It’s against the rules to fight! You’re all gonna get everyone in trouble, stop it!”

“Ooooh, I’m so scared!” Jin Chan pretended to shiver, and then straightened up and laughed like an evil villain. “You’re such a coward, A-Yuan. Hanguang-jun should be so embarrassed to have a coward-son.”

A-Yuan’s chin got crinkly like he was going to cry and it made every bit of A-Fu start shaking like a mountain with a thousand boulders crashing down the sides. His boily stomach was red hot with fury. A-Fu was more used to scuffling than A-Ling was, but A-Yuan hadn't been in any fights at all ever because he stayed in the Cloud Recesses so much. He didn't know that bullies like this didn't care about rules or grownups or being mean.

It was up to A-Fu to protect all of them.

“You better leave them alone! I’m gonna pop you so hard that your face’ll turn inside out!” he yelled, raising up his fists in front of him to show he meant business. “Plus, my die’ s could totally beat you up, for your information, so you better watch out!"

The other boys stuck out their tongues and jeered while Jin Chan shook his head, saying, “You’re so stupid. We’re not scared. And you’re not even a son-of-a. Your die is fake. You’re an orphan. You’re bad luck.”

He heard A-Ling say something, but it was like there was a loud river in his ears and he couldn’t pay attention at all. “I told you, I am not bad luck! They’re not fake!”

“Uh, yeah he is and yeah, you are. You’re an orphan. Your real parents died and Zewu-jun can’t find a wife because of you. ”

A-Fu’s tummy swirled around like slimy angry snakes even more, and he shoved Jin Chan back, shouting, “I don’t! I’m not! He doesn’t need a wife! He’s got Gray- die and Yellow- die !!”

Jin Chan stumbled back, then scowled. He stomped up and shoved A-Fu back, harder, and he crashed back into A-Yuan. Right away, A-Yuan wrapped his arms around A-Fu to hold him back, pinning his arms down, keeping him there. The Jin Chan gang all made scoffy noises and laughed, repeating A-Fu in high pitched voices while Jin Chan said, “What are you even talking about? Yellow-who?”

A-Fu wriggled hard, trying to break free, but A-Yuan was really strong and hanging on tight. “Chifeng-zun and Lianfang-zun!”

“PFF!” Jin Chan blew out a raspberry. “Those are his sworn brothers, you moron, not a wife. And anyway, my die says that Lianfang-zun’s not even a son-of-a anything but a whore .”

That was it. He may not know what that word meant either, but he knew that Jin Chan was being a son-of-a alright! It was a special word that he learned from the Nie, and he roared it like a tiger as he finally ripped out of A-Yuan’s arms and pounced on the bullies.

It took the Jin nanny and A-Yuan and A-Ling to pull them all apart. The Jin Chan gang were all cowards, because they all scrambled up and ran right away so they didn’t get in trouble with the grownup . A-Fu shouted so after them and the nanny shushed him really hard and scolded them all nonstop. Apparently, A-Yuan had sent Jin Ling to go get a grownup when he figured out that A-Fu was gonna fight no matter what and A-Fu just hadn’t noticed.

Now, him and A-Yuan were shut inside Yellow-Father’s office, waiting for him to come back. They were alone and it was quiet ‘cause the Jin nanny had taken A-Qiang and A-Ling away. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble,” A-Yuan moaned from where he was balled up tight on his own floor cushion next to A-Fu’s, face buried in his hands. “A-Fu, why’d you do that?! We aren’t s’posed to fight or do ‘vulgar language’!”

A-Fu poked at his bleeding and puffy lip with his tongue. “Th’o? We aren’t in the Cloud Rethetheth. And they were mean to you! You heard what he said, they deserved it! I’m not sorry.”

And he wasn’t. Even though his head and hands and knees and face and right eye hurt and felt like someone was pounding a drum inside his skin, he would totally do it all over again. He would defend his family all over again, no problem--except he would probably punch Jin Chan sooner, this time. So what if his eye was all swelly and his lip was bleeding? That’s what warriors did--they got hurt protecting things on purpose, just like Gray-Father said. Pride puffed up in his chest and he sat up straight. His fathers would be proud of him for doing the right thing, he was totally sure. This time, he wasn’t even just fighting because someone was annoying him; he was being noble and honorable! There were lots of rules about defending and not talking bad and not insulting people.

…There were also rules about not fighting, but, like, how did wars happen, then? Great-Uncle Qiren couldn’t scold war heroes, right? He was like the hero of the Koi Tower Courtyard Battle!

A-Yuan uncurled to look over to see him wiggling at his tooth with his fingers. “Why can’t you just calm down?! Look how beat up you got!”

A-Fu shrugged. “I’m okay. Are you okay?” He had seen A-Yuan fall over a few times when he was trying to stop them fighting before the Jin nanny came back.

Instead of answering, his cousin reached out a hand and patted all worried at his face. It hurt a lot, but A-Fu was being super brave about it so he just sat there and let him. “I think you’re gonna get a black eye. It’s all poofy.”

“Really? Cool!”

A-Yuan looked like he really didn’t think that was cool at all, but A-Yuan sometimes didn’t understand stuff like that. He was too stuck on rules and not getting in trouble. Together, they waited and waited for Yellow-Father to appear. A-Yuan stayed all curled up and rocking nervously on his cushion, but A-Fu eventually got bored. Sitting and sucking on his lip was making his tummy feel yucky. When he started wandering around, A-Yuan hissed that he should come sit down, but he was way more interested in exploring. He didn’t get to go in Yellow-Father’s office much!

It turned out to be pretty boring though, because everything was locked up tight and the only things on his desk were papers, an ink grinding station and brush, those weird blocky paperweights, and a swirly looking incense burner that looked like ones Blue-Father had at the Cloud Recesses. He peered at the sheets of paper, but only recognized a couple of the characters and even then, he couldn’t really remember what they meant.

When he started grinding ink, he caught A-Yuan watching him with his face screwed up in upsettedness, so he smiled all reassuring. It didn’t seem to help. Oh well. Blue-Father and Yellow-Father always let him paint when he felt like it, so A-Yuan had nothing to worry about, here. He maybe added a little too much water to the ink and it splashed on the desk, but after he hastily scrubbed at it with his sleeves, you could hardly tell there had been an accident at all. A-Yuan eventually came over to see what he was doing and seemed relieved when A-Fu pointed out that he was being careful to draw around all the words on the papers, so it wasn’t a problem. “Okay.” he said, but didn’t say anything else.

Pleased that he wasn’t whining about how they were gonna get in trouble anymore, A-Fu invited him to sit next to him on Yellow-Father’s chair-cushion and draw with him. “Yellow-Father always gets super happy when I give him paintings,” A-Fu added, which seemed to help him make up his mind.

Together, they took turns adding little faces and animals on the tops and sides of the pages. Some of A-Fu’s bunnies looked like turds and some of the ink got runny and made the paper wet, but it helped to cheer them both up after a tough day. Plus, it would cheer up Yellow-Father too, when he saw it when he got back to work! A-Fu was in the middle of carefully painting himself backflipping a million times and slicing off Jin Chan’s head with his super cool sword when Yellow-Father came in.

“Boys!”

The first thing he did was come over and kneel down and worry over both of them being hurt, making upset faces over A-Fu’s puffy lip and eye. He wasn’t at all excited when A-Fu showed him his first loose tooth, for some reason. “Are you both alright? Your poor face. Does it hurt very badly? A-Yuan, are you hurt? Thank goodness. Fufu, what have we told you about fighting? What happened?”

Immediately, A-Fu and A-Yuan started babbling over each other about what happened, pointing and waving and hopping;

“I tried to stop them--!”

“--was doing handstands--!”

“--wouldn’t listen!”

“--Jin Chan and his stupid gang came in--!”

“--was so mean, saying son-of-a’s--!”

“--said I was a jinx and I was like ‘shut up’--!”

“--and I told A-Ling to run and get someone--!”

“Boys--”

“--he was like ‘he needs a wife’ and I was like ‘no he doesn’t’--!”

“--so I grabbed him--!”

“--being evil and we don’t asso-associoning with--!”

“--didn’t wanna do it--!”

“Shh, one at a time--”

“--and so I called him a son-of-a-bitch and kicked his nards off--!”

Yellow-Father closed his eyes for a second. “A-Fu--”

“--and that’s a vulgar language--!”

“--and bit him and what’s ‘whore’?”

Yellow-Father had been grimacing back and forth between the two of them, his hands held up to calm them down, but now his eyes snapped over to stare at A-Fu. His eyes were wide.

After a second of silence, he said, voice very quiet and tight, “What did you say?”

A-Fu blinked. “Uh…what’s a ‘whore’? Jin Chan said it. ‘Son-of-a whore’? Is it like son-of-a-bitch?”

Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, his father stood up, turning away. “Go sit down, boys,” he told them, still just as quiet--he didn’t sound angry, but A-Fu didn’t get it.

“What? Are you mad? I was just--”

“A-Fu, stop. Please. Go sit down.”

Grumpily, he let A-Yuan drag him back over to the cushions in front of the desk as Yellow-Father went over to a set of drawers in the corner. But then, without doing anything to them, he turned and went to look out the window, his hands behind his back. A-Fu opened his mouth to keep asking questions, but A-Yuan shushed him with his hands waving in his face.

After a few more moments of silence, Yellow-Father took in a deep breath, and turned back slowly to the desk. “I’m--what’s this?” he interrupted himself though as he looked down, right at the art that he and A-Yuan had left him.

“Paintings!”

Without saying anything, he picked it up. A-Fu was waiting for him to smile and compliment his art like he usually did, but his face didn’t get happier, he just closed his eyes. Then, he took a deep breath as he set it back down. Then, eyes still closed he said. “Fufu, you cannot fight like this in Koi Tower.”

“But I--!”

“This is not how we solve problems. When you are the son of a zongzhu , you must be careful of your actions and your words.”

All of the proud in A-Fu was mushing into shock and angry. Why was he getting in trouble for doing the right thing? “Are you mad? Are you mad at me? Why are you yelling at me? That’s not fair!” Next to him, A-Yuan tugged at his sleeve, trying to shush him again quietly.

“I’m not yelling, Fufu and I’m not angry. There are just particular rules we must abide by as cultivators--”

“He was saying bad things about our family! I was defending you!”

Yellow-Father opened his eyes and smiled; it was a lying smile, because his eyebrows still looked frustrated or worried. A Fake Jin Smile. “It is not your job as a child to--”

“I was right! We protect people!”

“Stop yelling!” A-Yuan hissed in his ear, but he didn’t even care about that right now.

“Fufu, we cannot hit people when you have a conflict. You should leave the area and tell me and I will take care of it.”

“I’m not afraid of Jin Chan!”

“That’s not what I’m worried about--”

“I’m a warrior, like you and Blue- die and Gray- die! ”

His father’s lips pressed together before he forced another not-true-smile and said in a calm, convincing sort of voice, “Fufu, you’re old enough now that you can’t talk about your Gray- die or me like that anymore. It is not something that other people are going to understand. From now on, you need to call me your xiao-shushu , like A-Ling and A-Qiang.”

A-Fu couldn’t believe his ears. His tummy squinched up all sick and angry and shocked and scared, like shock dumped cold water all over him. Because he thought A-Fu messed up, he wasn’t his father anymore? How could he do that?

“You have to understand--”

“You’re going away ?!”

“No, no, of course--”

All the emotions in A-Fu’s tummy were zinging around through all of him, shaking him, and he had to stand up, peeling off A-Yuan’s hand. “You’re--Why’re you being so mean ?! I didn’t do anything bad! You can’t leave me!”

Yellow-Father all of a sudden looked as shocked as A-Fu felt and he came around his desk, kneeling down in front of him again, taking his shoulders. “No, no, no, Fufu, you're misunderstanding. I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere, I’m simply saying you cannot call me Yellow- die in public anymore.”

“Just ‘cause I punched Jin Chan!? I did the right thing! I was protecting!” Furious, scared tears were hot in his eyes, stinging the one that got kicked. “That’s our job!” All his fathers had said so!

“No, this is not a punishment--”

“You are!”

Yellow-Father shook his head and dabbed the back of his knuckle at the corner of A-Fu’s eyes. “You can’t say all the things you want to just anyone anymore, Fufu, it’s part of growing up. You have to have discretion , you have to be careful-- ”

He twisted his head away from his gentle hand. “It’s lying! It’s--It’s against the rules, the rules in Cloud Recesses!” he blurted out when he all of a sudden thought of it--grownups always cared more about rules.

Yellow-Father let his hand fall back to his shoulder, shaking his head. “Shh, this is different. It’s simply not safe to talk about this with other people, and you’re at an age, now, that you must start being more careful about how you speak and who you tell what. Not everyone is allowed to know everything about you.”

The tears finally spilled over as A-Fu stared at his worried face, smile nowhere to be seen--not even a lying one. This was just like when Great-Uncle Qiren said he couldn’t have 3 fathers, but ten thousand times worse because it was coming from Yellow-Father himself. He most of the time remembered not to say things around Madam Jin, and he tried to remember all the rules about who acted weird about his fathers, but now, he had to not tell anyone at all ? Ever ? “That’s not fair! I don’t tell everyone! Gray- die and Blue- die don’t make me lie about them!”

“At Koi Tower--”

With a huge wrench, he pulled himself out of Yellow-Father’s grip, just like he had with A-Yuan earlier, and backed away. “Why do Jin’s always gotta try to take away my family?! Why are you letting them, die ?! I don’t gotta lie to the Nie!”

A-Yuan stayed curled up on his cushion with his hands covering his ears, watching both of them all scared. Yellow-Father stood up and came forward, reaching out to him. “Fufu, please; take a deep breath and lower your voice. They are different circumstances, Chifeng- zun …has a very different--”

A-Fu didn’t want to take a deep breath or calm down! He wanted to throw all the stuff on Yellow-Father’s desk on the floor. He wanted Yellow-Father to know just how mad this made him because he wasn’t listening! He yelled louder, “That’s not convicting! You gotta do it, even when it’s hard or not fun!”

“Lan Fu--” his voice had a little bit of warning and that just made A-Fu madder, more tears clogging up inside his face, making his injuries throb and ache.

How come A-Fu always got in trouble?! How come it was just rules rules rules and doing everything wrong? And now, his father didn’t even want to be his father anymore! “You’re the worst die ! You’re so mean! I hate you! I don’t wanna be here anymore! I wanna go home!” he shouted as loud as his lungs could take, his throat burning.

His father went pale, hand still outstretched, frozen. When the door all of a sudden opened, he flinched. It was Uncle Zixuan and Uncle Wangji, both with frowns, one big and one small. A-Yuan ran to Uncle Wangji as soon as he saw him, clinging to his thigh and hiding his face in his robes as the door shut quick behind them.

“Lan Fu, you cannot speak to your die that way,” Uncle Zixuan said all stern and hushed as he turned away from it, “Lower your voice right now.”

Everyone was being awful! If grownups got to be terrible, he got to be terrible right back! He was already in trouble for something that wasn’t his fault , so he didn’t care anymore! All the angry and hurt and scared burst out of A-Fu in one loud, wordless scream as he stomped his feet and balled up his fists.

“Stop.” Uncle Wangji’s voice wasn't loud, but it cut over A-Fu’s yell and made everyone look over at him.

A-Fu did, but he still glared around at them all. His breaths were sobbing in and out like he had just run a thousand miles.

"What would your Blue- die say about your behavior?" Uncle Zixuan demanded, going over to Yellow-Father who was still standing silently, smiling a weird little smile at the floor without seeming to see it.

Probably to be empathy or something, but A-Fu didn't care. "I don't care! I don't wanna be here ever again! I hate it! No one here loves me! And I hate them!”

“Stop,” Uncle Wangji said again--still not loud, but sharper this time. “Do not use words that you do not mean and cannot take back. Apologize to Lianfang-zun.”

“It’s alright. He doesn’t need to. He’s just upset.” Yellow-Father said quietly.

“ Didi, ” Uncle Zixuan argued in a quiet voice, putting a hand on Yellow-Father’s shoulder, frowning deeper. “He shouldn’t be allowed to be so disrespectful towards you. This sort of behavior--”

A-Fu just couldn’t take it anymore. No one ever listened to him! No one was ever on his side! All they wanted to see was him just messing up, they didn’t care that he had defended all of them against Jin Chan and his gang!

Before anyone could say anything else, he ducked around Uncle Wangji and A-Yuan by the door and ran out as fast as he could. Behind him, down the hall, he heard a grownup calling his name, but he didn’t even slow down. A couple servants gave him weird looks and one or two court ladies talked behind their delicate circle fans as he pelted past, but he didn’t stop for them either. He was totally out of breath from running and crying by the time ran past all the stupid Jin’s stupid statues and stupid tapestries and stupid Jin everything and flung himself onto his stupid Jin bed, face down. He wasn’t sorry! He would never be sorry! Yellow-Father was being unfair and horrible and trying to pretend A-Fu wasn’t his son anymore!

He would show them--he would run away and hide where they couldn’t find him and wouldn’t come out for days and days until they were all sorry. He wouldn’t come out until they called for him 500 million times. They would be so worried and never be mean to him again. Maybe he would even run away for real. Maybe…maybe….

A-Fu woke up with a snort. The birds were twittling outside his window that was shining super hot sun right down into his eyeballs. His whole mouth tasted like yucky metal. Scrunching up his aching face, he rolled up onto his knees, wiping away drool and sweat with his sleeve--then yelped when it swiped his puffy eye. He barely could even see out of it, now. He poked at it a little, swinging his legs off the bed. Then gulped.

Through his open door, he could see Uncle Wangji sitting at the table of the sitting room with a cup of tea. Even though he was looking at the wall, A-Fu knew that he knew that A-Fu was awake. And now A-Fu remembered everything that had happened. Uh oh.

Maybe he could just stay in here and fall back asleep. He thought about it a second, looking at his pillow and jostled up blue blankets. Uncle Wangji probably wouldn’t let him, though. Some of his mad puddled back as muddy grumpiness and he scowled. “I’m--”

Without looking over, Uncle Wangji held up a hand. A-Fu fell sullenly silent. When his uncle nodded his head at the seat across from him, he slowly got up and dragged his feet in and flumped down onto the pretty gold-green seat, crossing his arms and glaring at the table. But he tried to get a peek at his face--to see how mad he was.

His eyes were on A-Fu, now, and he just looked like he always did, but no sneaky small secret smiles hid in his mouth. How did A-Yuan deal with getting in trouble when his father always had a ‘you just got in trouble’ face? Well…A-Yuan didn’t really hardly ever get in trouble. So he guessed that was his answer.

“You are going to apologize to your die . And then we are leaving.” He sounded serious, but that wasn’t new.

A-Fu hunched farther into his seat. “I don’t want to. I’m mad. I’m mad at him. I’m not sorry.”

“You were unfair and unfilial. You will apologize because it is respectful, whether or not you are still angry.”

“But he wanted me to lie! He wanted me to say he wasn’t my die ! It’s not fair!”

Uncle Wangji was quiet for so long that A-Fu snuck another look up at him. There wasn’t a big change in his expression, but he was looking down at his teacup. “I spoke with him. The matter is complex. There are things that are rejected, even when they are not wrong.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Nevertheless. When you choose to stand by things others eschew, you must be ready to accept the consequences. You are too young to fully understand those consequences.”

“I’m not afraid!”

“It is not about fear. It is about responsibility.”

“...Huh?”

Uncle Wangji looked straight into his eyes, a tightness appearing in little lines next to his nose. “Without understanding, there is fear. Fear…can have terrible repercussions. It is a weapon.”

“...Okay…?”

“Your actions do not just affect yourself. Do you remember what this represents?” He reached up, touched the silver cloud pendant in the middle of his forehead.

Automatically, A-Fu’s hand went up to feel his own, a small white triangle on the white cloth instead. “It’s the headband. It’s sacred. Only families touch it.” What did that have to do with anything?

“It is a symbol of restraint and discipline. When you wear this, you represent your Sect, your Clan, and your family. It is important to know your own responsibility. Your consequences don’t just befall you. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh,” A-Fu said, automatically, even though he only sorta got it.

Kinda. …Maybe. Maybe he would ask Blue-Father about it when he got back, just to make sure. Either way, it sure sounded like ‘consequences’ was Uncle Wangji’s pocket word.

“Come,” Uncle Wangji stood, tucking one hand behind his back like always, Bichen glittering in his other one. “A-Yuan and Lianfang-zun are waiting. When we return, I will speak with xiongzhang to decide your discipline.”

Aw, farts. At least he wasn’t really getting yelled at, though all his mad felt kind of slimy and guilty, now. He did feel bad for yelling mean things at Yellow-Father. But he also felt just so frustrated at the whole thing, y’know?! The grownups really needed to work on listening.

When he and Uncle Wangji got back to the office and he mumbled a ‘sorry’ to Yellow-Father, it was like nothing had even happened. Yellow-Father was his normal sunny, smiley self and didn’t even mention the fighting again, he just asked about what hurt where, and then dabbed on some cream that smelled like something sharp and like flowers onto all his bruises. It was nice enough that A-Fu was tired of holding onto all his mad and climbed up into his lap when he held out his arms. Keeping arguments in his head made his tummy hurt. And he was just happy to be cuddled and not be yelled at anymore. He was so ready to go pet some bunnies with A-Yuan when they got back to the Cloud Recesses.

What a stressful visit!

Just to make sure, before they left, he craned his neck back to look up at his father, and asked, seriously, “You’re still always my die , though, right? Even…even if I gotta lie?”

Yellow-Father blinked, then smiled back down at him. “Of course.”

“Forever?”

“Well, will you always be my xiao-Fufu?”

“Yeah.”

His smile got a little softer at the edges as he smoothed A-Fu’s hair back from his forehead, then tucked a tail of his headband back over his shoulder. “Then it’s a deal.”

#HI. IT'S BEEN...ABOUT A YEAR. 🙃#This is a long one #But it has been done! There is An Update™ and there are more to come!#These AUs are still on my mind daily and I'm still trundling away! The whims of the electrified jello in my head are just sometimes uhhhhh #hard to wrangle #ANYWAY HOPE YOU ENJOY I'M EXCITED TO GET TO MO XUANYU IN THE NEXT 2 CHAPTERS #3zun raise jingyi au #3zun raise jingyi au content #3zun #ljy #jgy #lxc #my fic #my stuff #There's more Post-Reconciliation coming--more intense JGY angst--more Jin kids hangout--more Jin bros bonding--and more BABY ACQUISITION #IT'S ALL IN THE WORKS #Apologies for any issues it's 3am and I've been working on this for hours so I just need to post it and come back later to catch them

59 notes · View notes