Chapter Text
Jin Guangyao was furious.
Not the loud, raging sort of furious all of the privileged, decadent Jin members were fond of (see, his father). His fury was seething, quiet, hidden.
“Father, Madam Jin,” he bowed deeply, smiling so his dimples were visible, and his eyes sparkled. I will gut you both in front of your children, whether they’re bastards or not. “I am incredibly honored by this match.”
He was not honored. Fuck Madam Jin. Fuck his father.
He suspected the issue had arisen when his lovely, sweet-hearted, eternally happily married sister-in-law had said over dinner one night, “A-Yao, when you have children, I hope you’ll raise them with ours so they can play together.”
Madam Jin’s face had twisted, because, to her, A-Yao should not have children. In fact, if she had her way, Jin Guangyao would be executed just on the basis that he might one day sire tiny, bastard, little versions of himself who might have a claim to the Jin Sect throne. And, probably after a hissed and unpleasant discussion that night, Jin Guangshan, who was intelligent only when it came to his own greed, had realized that he could use his unwanted child to make the sect alliance of the century and appease his wife, while removing any opportunity for little grand-bastards.
So there Jin Guangyao was, smiling to his father, putting just the right amount of sparkle in his eyes, while he planned the death of everyone who might have known anything about this surprise betrothal. He would take extra, malicious steps for those who actually had a hand in it.
Except, of course, for his betrothed. Or one of them, at least.
He could have said no, technically, but technicalities would not protect him from being thrown down the stairs again the moment he proved less than useful to Jin Guangshan, so instead he straightened and said, "I would like to speak with Lan Xichen first, if that is amenable."
He didn’t ask to speak with Nie Mingjue. He didn’t even understand why Nie Mingjue had offered to wed him to begin with. Probably because he was hopelessly in love with Lan Xichen and wouldn’t let an evil little creature like Jin Guangyao get in the way of that. Despite being his sworn brother, he had made little secret to Jin Guangyao’s face how he felt about him. As far as Jin Guangyao could tell, his father had sent out an offer, and from whatever replies had come from prominent sects, not one, but two sect leaders had replied asking to marry him, and each other.
Jin Guangyao, it turned out, was not allowed to speak to Lan Xichen, because Jin Guangyao was apparently the only one who could coordinate such a complicated wedding. Jin Guangyao thought, privately, that Jin Guangshan probably also just wanted to take as much advantage of his skillset as possible to the last possible moment, and simultaniously wanted to dangle him like a tempting, untouchable morsel so neither of Jin Guangyao’s betrothed could change their minds at the last moment after laying eyes on him. Not that Lan Xichen would do such a thing. Jin Guangyao had managed to peek at his response to Jin Guangshan’s betrothal request. It had been eloquent, beautiful, and had made clear to anyone who had eyes that Lan Xichen would not take no for an answer unless Jin Guangyao served that answer up to the sect leader himself. Nie Mingjue’s letter had been brief, penned in his thick hand-writing: Zewu-Jun and I will both marry Jin Guangyao, and each other, to the exclusion of all other parties. This has been negotiated between our sects and is settled.
Whatever that meant, Jin Guangyao wasn’t sure. He liked to imagine Nie Mingjue dramatically throwing himself at Lan Xichen’s feet, begging him not to marry Jin Guangyao, offering himself, offering anything. Lan Xichen was a peerless beauty, a dragon, and Jin Guangyao a fox, the son of a whore, who dirtied anything he touched. But Lan Xichen would have softly, deftly, refused.
Jin Guangyao didn’t know whether the fantasy brought him more pleasure, or hurt, when he thought of it. Nie Mingjue had once been the closest person in the world to him, and now…
Well. His imagination could fill in the gaps between Nie Mingjue’s sour expressions and unveiled, distrustful jabs. Jin Guangyao’s bitter, vengeful thoughts did the rest.
Thankfully, he didn’t have time to think much of it past that. True to form, Jin Guangyao was suddenly buried under a mountain of paperwork. He awoke early in the morning and worked until late at night. He was not allowed to see Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue, though he certainly did see the letters Jin Guangshan sent out about who would foot the cost, the elaborate ceremonies involved, clan traditions, and what they would pay for the loss of Jin Guangshan's esteemed, priceless son. Lan Xichen at least, accepted the propositions with grace and a soft, unyielding affection that had Jin Guangyao melting and revisiting his letters over and over again. Nie Mingjue responded in a brusque-flowery script that was certainly not Nie Huaisang trying to make up for his Dage's wrathful silence.
At least, Jin Guangyao reflected, Nie Mingjue would only allow himself to be a filial husband. Unless Jin Guangyao somehow managed to tempt him, to ruin him and his pride. Oh, that was a thought.
Still, he had to put these things aside for now. He almost didn't have enough time for spiteful plotting, almost, which was a miracle for Nie Mingjue and the Jin sect as Jin Guangyao was an expert at doing one thing while strategically lining up the death of every person that had wronged him at the same time. Instead, he was doing one thing, and strategically lining up wedding seating to ensure that his wedding wouldn't melt into a catastrophe of sect squabbling and cheap appetizers.
Lan Xichen arrived two weeks before the wedding, because he was a saint, and no one on this earth deserved him. The thought made Jin Guanyao happy, because this saint wanted him, and no one else, so he might as well have him.
"A-Yao, have you had any break since the wedding was announced?" Lan Xichen asked when they had a moment with just a few servants keeping a sharp eye on them. Not to protect Jin Guangyao’s virtue, heaven forbid, but to ensure that if Lan Xichen did impinge on it in any way on Jin Guangyao’s virtue, Jin Guangshan would be able to remove parts of the dowry for pre-bridal deflowering fees.
"I find I've quite been enjoying being busy," Jin Guangyao replied perfunctorily, because there were people watching.
"Everyone needs a break now and then," Lan Xichen said warmly, "Let's go walk in the garden, I'm sure your father wouldn't deny me your presence."
Jin Guangyao hid his smile, because Lan Xichen was powerful, and had always been loved, and wanted, and treasured, but had the wonderful quality of knowing it, and wielding it simply to support the people he cared for. If Jin Guangyao had requested to walk in the gardens, he would have been denied and rushed away into his little room to attend to more wedding matters. But Lan Xichen could not be denied, so he wrapped his arm through Jin Guangyao’s and allowed himself to be led to the Jinlintai gardens. If Jin Guangyao squinted a bit at the bright foreignness of the sun after so long cooped in his little room, no one he cared about would notice. And if Lan Xichen noticed, it would just mean more garden walks, rather the threat of a blade named weakness someone else might hold over Jin Guangyao's head.
It was not all bad, Jin Guangyao mused, this wedding. Not when Lan Xichen was here, and Nie Mingjue had yet to bring his furious self anywhere near Jinlintai.
"Have you spoken with Da-ge?" Jin Guangyao asked, because he supposed he should gather confirmation of his thoughts.
Lan Xichen's lips pressed together, his eyes lowered to the path, "He will be here."
"I'm glad to hear it," Jin Guangyao smiled, "I'm sure both of us have awaited this wedding with bated breath and matching enthusiasm." He was almost disappointed in how unsubtle his words were. Really, he had been away from other people for far too long.
"A-Yao," Lan Xichen said, voice soft, "A-Jue--"
Jin Guangyao's hand tightened on his arm, and Lan Xichen fell silent. Jin Guangyao had to swallow his sudden, mind bending rage, because thinking was not Lan Xichen's greatest proclivity, despite his uncanny and sometimes unwelcome ability to see into the souls of everyone around him. Like now, when Jin Guangyao had barely twitched a muscle and Lan Xichen was looking at him like he could read every thought like it was written on his skin.
"A-Yao," Lan Xichen said again, this time his voice was on the wrong side of devastation.
In truth, there had been a second reason Jin Guangyao had not responded to the letters Lan Xichen sent. It was because the betrayal stung, and he was angry with himself for not knowing Lan Xichen, for not knowing that the honest and well-meaning sect-leader would agree to bind him to someone who hated him. He had thought Lan Xichen his equal, in some ways. He had wanted so badly to be able to trust him.
He did not want Lan Xichen to even begin to sense that last thought, so he pasted on his smile that was only half-fake, since he sincerely did want to comfort Lan Xichen, and turned to him. "It's quite alright, Er-ge. It would not be fair to have arranged things one way, when your heart had already chosen another."
It would not be fair, it was true, but Jin Guangyao did not care about fair . He would have had Nie Mingjue dead, if it wouldn't have meant the potential destruction of Lan Xichen. Do you know how special you are? Jin Guangyao thought, To be the only person to be able to stay my hands from violence?
If there was another part of his heart that was soft, welcoming to Nie Mingjue, that part only craved for revenge more. There was nothing that led to violence like a broken heart. Jin Guangyao considered himself an expert when it came to the subject.
Lan Xichen looked down at where Jin Guangyao had taken his hands, then squeezed them. "I want A-Yao to be happy," he said, his eyes soft, and honest, and on the right edge of determined, as if to say I will protect you, don't be afraid. I will carve this world into the shape of your contentment.
And to Jin Guangyao's immense consternation, he believed him.