#1/16" thick veneer

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 41

of the wwx emperor au that’s back to being called Emperor Wei WuXian And His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40

The South Lakes courtyard is wrapped in gloom.

Wei Ying feels guilty for his late arrival. For the second day in the row he had promised A-Yuan that he would visit, and had failed to show before the boy had been put to bed.

The lingering feeling of regret over placing Jin ZiXuan in the dungeons disappears completely. Had the ridiculous peacock not made a scene outside the council hall, Wei Ying would have gotten at least fifteen minutes with A-Yuan, even if those fifteen minutes only allowed him to put the kid to sleep with an obnoxious fairytale or two.

He comforts himself with the knowledge that tomorrow is the Gifting Ceremony, which means that every clan and sect should be preparing to leave the Immortal Mountain. Of course, having placed Jin ZiXuan in the dungeon, Wei Ying must bear Jin GuangShan’s presence a little longer. He is sorely tempted to release the brat just so he can see Jin GuangShan’s backside pass through the Five Phoenix Gate with all the other sect leaders.

He will not do so. He cannot show lenience to someone who had so blatantly disrespected him in front of half the Council. 

It does not bother Wei Ying so much that Jin ZiXuan had drawn his sword; they had seen each other compete mere days ago, and Young Master Jin had to know that he had no chance of winning, even if Wei Ying had been alone and unprotected. It does bother him that Jin ZiXuan had acted in such an unreasonable and stupid manner. Perhaps the engagement had meant a great deal to him. Perhaps Jin ZiXuan does care for shijie more than he is capable of displaying thought that thick veneer of narcissism and arrogance.

But despite his earlier words to uncle Jiang, Wei Ying has never truly believed Jin ZiXuan to be stupid. Smug and self-important, yes. Vain and haughty, heavens yes. But stupid enough to attack the Emperor in front of dozens of guards and Sect Leaders? Sect Leaders who may fawn over his father on good days, but are perfectly capable of turning on him the moment the Jin Sect fortune begins to decline?

Wei Ying does not think Jin ZiXuan stupid, but he does think the boy’s pride and arrogance are likely to leave him vulnerable to the wrong type of influence. He would wager that the true instigator of today’s events was not Jin ZiXuan, but someone standing directly behind him. 

But to what purpose?

“Finally,” Wen Qing’s voice comes from the darkness, “I was about to send guards in the search of you.”

Wei Ying pauses, half-way across the courtyard, his stomach twisting in anticipation, “Wen Ning is back? We have a response?”

“We do,” she says, and he can read nothing from her voice, or her vague silhouette near the pavilion door, “come inside. It has taken me nearly an hour to decode it; I had to ask Granny to help. She is very upset with you, by the way.”

Wei Ying grimaces. It is not that he does not trust her, or Granny Wen, or Wen Ning and Uncle Four, but the more there are of those who know a secret, the less likely it is to remain a secret. He supposes that all the years of Nie HuaiSang’s influence could be blamed for his overabundance of caution. A-Sang is a firm believer in telling people only those things that they absolutely needed to know.

“Jiang Cheng knew,” she says, her tone now accusing.

“I was not the one to tell him,” Wei Ying says.

He leaves out the part where he would have told him, regardless. He would have felt guilty about keeping anything of such magnitude from Jiang Cheng, but it had been A-Sang who had decided that Jiang Cheng should be informed. Wei Ying had simply... not questioned the decision.

“Get inside,” she says “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Wei Ying expects to meet Granny Wen’s accusing glare the moment he steps into the pavilion, but the only people waiting for him are Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng. He heaves a sigh of relief, even as he habitually moves to prevent Wen Ning from bowing.

“Uncle Four?” he says.

“Stayed behind,” Wen Ning says, then rushes to explain, “we were not sure what the message said, and he would not try and decode it in YiLing. We thought-- if things turned out badly, it may help to have him outside the Immortal Mountain.”

“The message,” Wei Ying says, impatient, “Where is it?”

Jiang Cheng hands him a piece of paper. Wen Qing’s lovely lines are obvious in each character, the ink still slightly damp in places. He takes care not to smudge it; A-Sang will want to see it as soon as possible.

It is an agreement. Wen RuoHan has agreed to his proposal.

Wei Ying’s knees feel weak; he fights the urge to sit down on the floor.

“Where is the original?”

Wen Qing is the one to hand it over, Wen RuoHan’s signature large and stark, his personal seal nestled next to the red Sun Seal of the Wen Sect.

He grins at Jiang Cheng, and finds Jiang Cheng grinning back. The grin is wide, making him look young and careless, the way he had not been since all of them were children together, hunting imaginary demons through Iron Palm Palace halls.

“Uncle Four has gotten two more messages from his men in the Nightless City,” Wen Ning says, “The rumor is that the Second Young Master of the Wen Sect has gotten himself into some trouble with the YingChuan Wang Sect. The Sect Leader’s youngest daughter. Some rumors say that he has already been married, quickly and quietly, as the trouble is-- uh-- time sensitive. Other rumors state that the wedding will take place soon."

“Granny thinks that Wen RuoHan will send an official letter to the Immortal Mountain,” Wen Qing says, “as a means of informing the Emperor of his youngest son’s indiscretion, apologizing for the Wen Sect absence, and asking for forbearance in these trying times.”

“That old fucker,” Wei Ying says in delight, and does not even mind when Wen Qing slaps him on the shoulder.

Even a year ago, he would have thought it impossible to feel even a grudging sort of respect for Wen RuoHan, but the man has managed to throughly impress him.

“He should be in prison for treason,” Wen Qing says, “Instead, you have provided him with everything he has ever wanted.”

She sounds vaguely disapproving; it is impossible to tell if she objects to the plan, the methods used, or the fact that he had not consulted her ahead of time. Still, Wei Ying is far too happy with the outcome to feel guilty for keeping secrets.  

“Good,” he retorts, tucking the letter into his sleeve, “and may we never see another war or a rebellion as a result. Where is Granny? I am more than prepared to be scolded now.”

“She is with Song Lan,” Jiang Cheng answers in Wen Qing’s place, “he arrived not long before you did.”

“Song Lan? Why is he here?”

Before anyone has had a chance to answer the question, the man himself is already hovering at the entrance to the receiving hall. Elated by their success with Wen RuoHan, Wei Ying does not immediately notice the tightness of Song Lan’s features, or the wary set of his shoulders. The moment he does, however, his earlier euphoria vanishes in an instant.

Between Lan Zhan, the Council, and Jin ZiXuan’s stupidity, he had forgotten the initial reason behind Song Lan and uncle XingChen’s arrival. Now, seeing the troubled expression on Song Lan’s face, he feels a heavy sense of foreboding.

“He is here,” Wei Ying says, “the person you are hunting. He is in the Immortal Mountain.”

It is not a question, and Song Lan’s curt nod does not fill him with surprise. It seems expected somehow, that this news would come at the heels of the other, as if the string of events was somehow predestined.

He grins humorlessly, and rubs the side of his nose.

Destiny is not set in stone. Perhaps in the course and culmination of human life, there exists some objective certainty that is both transcendent and beyond human control, but his approach has always been a rational one, and now that same rationality offers a different answer.

This is no preordination. Wei Ying has simply come to anticipate that any success, any accomplishment, any occasion in which he may find joy and contentment, will come with a cost.

The realization is bitter and unhappy, and he pushes it away.

“Tell me what you have discovered.”