The Problem With Authority - Chapter 2
[1] [AO3]
Jiang Yanli froze at the sound of Jin Guangyao’s voice. She was nowhere near ready to deal with him, much less the knowledge that they were technically married. She — and Qin Su — needed time before she could hope to successfully deceive him.
And she had seconds to figure out how they were going to get it.
She sniffed, loudly, hoping it would seem like she had only been standing there, crying silently. She tucked A-Xian’s notebook into her robes.
“Oh, A-Su, I miss him too.” Jin Guangyao sounded so genuinely sympathetic that she could scarcely tell the difference, even knowing what he’d done. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and it was all Jiang Yanli could do not to flinch.
The way Qin Su was practically screaming in her head did not help. She would be little help, this confrontation coming far too soon.
What would a still ignorant Qin Su have done? Jiang Yanli didn’t yet know her well enough to say.
Jiang Yanli wiped her eyes as she turned in his arms, the skin around her eyes still tinted red from learning about A-Xian. That should help sell the ruse, even against a man so devoted to power he had married his own sister.
“I know,” She lied, sniffling again. “It’s just so hard, being here. I keep getting up to check on him in the night —” she didn’t actually know the name of the boy yet, which could be a problem if Qin Su remained incoherent — “And then I remember.”
“I know how you feel.” He said with a sigh. “I keep thinking it’s time to start teaching A-Song his first core formation exercises.”
“I think — I think I need to get away for a bit.” Jiang Yanli whispered.
“Perhaps that would be for the best.” He began rubbing her back, which made her want to sob. “Were you thinking of somewhere in particular?”
Her first instinct was to say Lotus Pier.
Gusu. The Cloud Recesses. Qin Su managed to say.
Of course. There was a healer there, who specialized in recovery from grief. If she were to go on a retreat for recovery, the Cloud Recesses were the logical place. But — A-Ling was in Yunmeng. Every moment away from him was a physical ache in her chest. How was A-Cheng managing, taking care of her son on his own?
He’s been doing fine raising him half the year for six years. Jiang Wanyin is A-Ling’s favorite.
Oh. Jiang Yanli’s heart swelled. It must be difficult, but A-Cheng was doing wonderfully.
It would seem strange if I went to Yunmeng, Qin Su admitted. Unless you want Jiang Wanyin to know?
Not yet, she had to confess. A-Cheng would be overwhelmingly happy to see her, but he would quickly spirit her away and rush off to reveal the truth. Without a scrap of evidence beyond second-hand testimony. Neither of her brothers had ever been logical, when she was even mildly insulted.
“Gusu,” She didn’t have to fake the choked sound of her voice. How long would it be before she could confirm with her own eyes that her son and her baby brother were alive and well?
Jiang Wanyin has A-Ling for the summer, about three more months.
An eternity.
Jin Guangyao’s smile wavered.
A- Lianfang-zun, Qin Su corrected herself, thinks I don’t know, but I noticed him pining after Zewu-jun long before we married. Zewu-jun was here for a week, after A-song — She broke off. He saw more of my so-called husband than I did.
“Why don’t you invite your erge back for a few days while I’m gone?” She suggested. “I know you’re busy, but perhaps he could spare a few days?”
“Thank you, A-Su, that’s very thoughtful.” His smile returned, only now she thought it might be genuine. “I could arrange for you to leave as soon as tomorrow, if that pleases you.”
“Yes,” She said quietly. “I would like that.”
As it turned out, Gusu Lan’s mind healer was useful to both of them for more than merely an excuse.
She had not known what to expect from a healer who specialized in injuries that could not be seen, but it was not Tan Wurui. He was a young man with round, expressive features who wore the plain forehead ribbon of outer disciples.
When he began their first meeting by offering her huamei, Jiang Yanli decided she liked him. Candy was against the rules, outside of festivals, but preserved plums were technically medicinal. She took one, with a carefully weak smile.
Sitting back on her heels, she tried to place why Tan-daifu looked familiar. Finally, she realized. They had been classmates, once. He had lived a few doors down from Jiang Yanli when she was a guest disciple, so he must have transitioned after her stay. He had been friendly and helpful, more likely to correct rules violations than to report them.
“Eat that if you need a moment to gather your thoughts, or you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.” He plucked a plum of his own from the bowl, rolling it between his fingers. “Now, to start, is this the first time you’ve dealt with loss?”
The answer for Jiang Yanli was no, of course. Grief had become almost a familiar friend, since her parents were killed. Yet it had stabbed her in the back as surely as the sword that killed her pierced her heart.
Her loss was different from Qin Su’s. Jiang Yanli’s son was still alive, if out of reach and grown from an infant to a boy in an instant. But she had not had the chance to mourn her husband when A-Xian was stolen as well.
She had no idea, however, whether Qin Su had. And Qin Su wasn’t sharing.
While Tan-daifu waited patiently for an answer that should have been easy.
Jiang Yanli prodded with mental fingers until Qin Su gave up the answer. My mother. But she was… it wasn’t the same.
“No,” She said aloud. “But not like this.”
Tan-daifu nodded. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”
Qin Su had curled up in her mind since the conversation with Jin Guangyao. Unfurling slowly in fits and starts, only to shrink back at the wrong reminder. As she did then.
Jiang Yanli nibbled at her plum, the spiced sweet and sour flavor spreading across her tongue. As though in response to the flavor, Qin Su startled, cautiously peering out from her ball.
“I thought you might not be.” He offered her a serene smile. “For now, why don’t we discuss how you’ve been coping, and what your goals are in coming here.”
Jiang Yanli conjured descriptions of how she thought the courtiers of Lanling would have treated her, had she lived. It wasn’t difficult to imagine, considering how they had ingratiated themselves when she wasn’t vulnerable. Qin Su confirmed her suspicions, and added on, They wouldn’t let me do anything.
“I felt like I was drowning in Koi Tower.” She concluded. “I haven’t stopped feeling that way. However, there’s… less of him, here.”
Less of Qin Su’s A-Song, and less positive memories of A-Xuan, but more of A-Xian. Happy ones. The last time she could remember him being truly, uncomplicatedly happy.
“Locations can become heavily associated with certain people, or events. If coming here helps you feel a little closer to air, it was the right decision.” Tan-daifu said. “It sounds like you were trapped with your grief, through inactivity. You have not kept up even basic exercises with your sword?”
“The healers in Lanling told me I should refrain from using my spiritual energy.” She said carefully. While in the Cloud Recesses, Jiang Yanli needed to begin learning to use Qin Su’s sword. While Qin Su might not be renowned for her skills like the heroes of the Sunshot Campaign, she was known to be competent. Jiang Yanli could not avoid it forever, when Qin Su trained the disciples.
“Though Lanling Jin’s healers have released a number of revolutionary medicinal treatments recently, they have not yet understood the relationship between the mind and qi.” Though Tan-daifu kept his voice steady, he was no Lan Wangji. A tick in his cheek betrayed his disdain. “Excessive use while recovering could cause a qi deviation. However, light exercise helps rejuvenate the mind and keeps your body healthy and qi balanced.”
With Tan-daifu’s permission, Jiang Yanli was able to practice the Jin sword forms in the private courtyard of her guest house every morning. Twice a week, she met with him. Most of her time, however, was left to her own discretion.
Once Jiang Yanli adjusted to Qin Su’s body, she found that much of her skill had carried over into muscle memory. It was simply a matter of practicing until her mind adjusted to her body’s knowledge.
Cultivation, however, was far more complicated. Cultivation was linked to the spirit, not the physical body, and so Qin Su had to teach her, step by step, skills that junior disciples learned the year they received their swords.
She could not show her by doing. Though Jiang Yanli attempted to retreat within her mind, and allow Qin Su to take control of her own limbs, it seemed Jiang Yanli was firmly rooted within the body they now shared.
Qin Su wasn’t. If she strained, she could reach outward until, for an instant, look down and see her body from above before snapping back inside.
The teaching seemed to help Qin Su more than anything.
Why did no one teach you this? She snapped in exasperation, as Jiang Yanli struggled through the steps of directing her spiritual energy for donation. It was the strongest reaction she’d prompted in weeks.
I didn’t have enough to spare. My parents planned to send me to Dafan, to develop my core without the physical aspect. But by the time I was old enough, the sect had become an ordinary village. No other sect had similar techniques, so she’d had to rely on meditation, talismans, and her brothers.
Oh. You do now. From then on, Qin Su latched onto the teaching like a project. If it did not to make her less sad, it at least made her more responsive.
That would have been enough to keep them busy, but it was critical that Jiang Yanli memorize the changes in the Cultivation world. If she said the wrong thing to a sect leader, or Jin Guangyao, that would be the end. She read through the piles of official documents in the library, with more subjective commentary from Qin Su.
They started with the greatest risk: Qin Su’s family.
Father spoils me, but he still sees me as his baby girl. Jie — Qin Xifeng, the heir — was always busy. It’s Yi-ge we have to worry about. Qin Su explained, as she looked over records of how Laoling Qin’s trade had grown and alliances shifted after their Second Young Mistress became Jin-furen.
Ironically, Qin Xifeng was the only member of the Qin clan Jiang Yanli had met before, when she accompanied A-Xuan to the Sunshot Campaign. She’d found it funny, in retrospect, how awkwardly A-Xuan had interacted with her, considering none of his few close companions were men.
An ache rose in her chest as she remembered teasing him about it, on the night of his cousin Jin Huiqing’s wedding to Sect Leader Hua. Though distantly related, they were his favorite relative. A letter from Luo Qingyang had arrived the same day. Zixuan flushed prettily, and told her that was different. He hadn’t been able to think clearly, through the things Jiang Yanli did to his heart.
She’d grabbed the restraints and climbed on top of him, proceeding to reward her husband for being such a silly romantic. Zixuan had been certain that was the night A-Ling was conceived.
She missed him with her entire being.
Uh. Yanli-jie. Qin Su sounded pained. That’s my half-brother.
She winced. Given Qin Su’s history, that had to be much worse than the time Jiang Yanli had accidentally found A-Xian’s poorly concealed stash. Especially considering how unconventional their sex life had been. Sorry. I’ll work on trying to shield some of my thoughts from you.
Qin Su quickly returned to the original topic. Yi-ge is only a year older than me, so we’ve always been close. He’s been busy setting up the Laoling watchtowers lately, so hopefully we can avoid him until you’re better at acting like me.
Am I that bad? She asked.
Not for most people. But I’m his baby sister, and you’ve always been the eldest.
Jiang Yanli could see how that might be a problem. Are you more ‘A-Su is three’ or ‘go away Ge, no wait, play with me?’
Shock flared from Qin Su. Neither! I just whine a little and he pretends he’s going to say no. What are your brothers?
Damaged. While A-Cheng postured and yelled and hid how much he cared, A-Xian crafted a mask of harmlessness, hiding what he needed. Just as Jiang Yanli had. They hadn’t had much choice.
Qin Su’s silence was its own response.
From there, they moved on to other sects.
So the Luo Sect has climbed back into favor? Though Luo Qingyang had joined the Jin Sect in her youth, as was sometimes done to protect the heir of a minor sect against rivalry, her outspoken support of A-Xian and departure had driven her birth sect to retreat from Lanling. As a result, Jiang Yanli had never met Mianmian’s uncle or cousin, and so had no measure of their character.
The Sect heir is very… earnest. Lianfang-zun likes to surround himself with simple men. I used to think it was because they didn’t poke fun at his heritage. Her more recent conclusions were left unspoken.
Other changes were more startling. Not only had Tingshan He been absorbed into Lanling itself, but there were thirteen sects jostling for territory in former Qishan, most of them vassals to the Jin . Which made sense, as most of the sects had originated as single-town cultivation clans within Lanling. The Jin had been the only sect with cultivators to spare, and taken advantage of the opening.
Sects had only been beginning to spring up in Qishan when she died. Now, they were fully formed, squabbling and jostling for influence.
There was a seemingly endless amount of ground to cover, in the weeks in Gusu.
It surprised her, how little she saw of the main branch of the Lan Clan. During her last stay, she could not have thrown a stone without hitting one.
She had spoken with Lan Qiren only once, upon her arrival. He’d harrumphed and bid her the necessary welcome, and proceeded to ignore her existence. That suited her well enough.
Though Zewu-jun had been expected to return from Lanling a week into her stay, he had been called away to deal with a crisis for Nie Huaisang. That was another shock, Nie Huaisang as sect leader. A-Xian would have laughed himself silly. A-Cheng must be going spare.
Lan Xichen’s continued absence was fortunate. He, unlike any other Lan, knew Qin Su. Enough that he might notice a misstep.
It was Lan Wangji’s absence that concerned her.
If there was anyone who might have mourned A-Xian, it was Lan Wangji, but he was nowhere to be found. Not at meals, and not along the paths of the Cloud Recesses.
Hanguang-jun often travels these days, I’ve heard. Qin Su informed her, with an undertone of surprised curiosity. So he really was in love with Wei Wuxian?
They loved each other. Jiang Yanli had known long before either of them.
It was a shock, the one time she did see Lan Wangji.
On the afternoon Qin Su was ready to discuss her loss, Jiang Yanli knelt on the cushions across from Tan-daifu’s desk, a cup of perfectly brewed tea cooling before her. The usual bowl of plums sat between them.
Tan-daifu smiled pleasantly, waiting for her to begin. And Qin Su froze up.
“Perhaps if we take a walk?” Tan-daifu suggested, when she said nothing.
Tan-daifu led her to the back trails, along the river where Jiang Yanli’s breathing had once faltered as she searched for her brother, and A-Xuan caught her as she fell.
At least this time that’s romantic. Qin Su grumbled, the first thing she’d said since they entered Tan-daifu’s office.
Not really. She remembered how he’d left her behind, the harsh words he’d said.
They tell that story like you were star-crossed lovers kept apart by the Yiling Patriarch. But really, your husband was just being an idiot.
A-Xian punched some sense into him. Remembering the soup incident, she added, Twice.
After a pause, Qin Su hesitantly said, I think I’m ready to talk now.
The words poured from her like a dam had broken.
Jiang Yanli recounted Qin Su’s words verbatim, how she left for a meeting after putting A-Song to bed. How she was accosted the moment she entered the Fragrance Hall on her return. How she fought, desperately, to reach her son, even after receiving a gut wound. How Jin Guangyao arrived with guards, and she finally made it through. How she saw the body of the nursemaid first, sprawled in a pool of blood, and crumbled into denial when she realized her son wasn’t breathing. How she’d had to be sedated to receive treatment for her wound, and refused to believe it for days after.
The words tapered off, and stopped. Jiang Yanli took a plum from the bag Tan-daifu offered her, and popped one in her mouth.
The rest of it could not be shared. But to her surprise, Qin Su did not retreat entirely. She shrank back, but did not become unreachable.
“Thank you, for sharing.” Tan-daifu said. “Sometimes it helps, but only when you’re ready.”
His understanding silence was a pleasant relief.
On the way back, they came across a boy playing in a field of snow-white rabbits. Jiang Yanli stopped, watching with a longing that was not only hers.
She wondered if A-Ling liked rabbits, or if his jiujiu had allowed him to have a dog, as was a more traditional spiritual animal for a young heir.
Jin Guangyao has wanted to give A-Ling a spiritual dog for some time, but Jiang-zongzhu keeps saying no. No one knows why. Qin Su mused.
Oh, A-Cheng. He must be so lonely. Still keeping dogs out of Lotus Pier, as though A-Xian might come wandering back one day.
(And might he not? A part of her whispered, the thought too fleeting for Qin Su to pick up.)
Though she had no doubt A-Cheng had the loyalty of his sect, that the disciples he’d trained loved him and would die for him, he had never learned that letting someone in wasn’t weakness. Without A-Xian, without her…
She wished there was a way she could tell him he wasn’t alone, to hold A-Cheng and A-Ling in her arms, without risking Jin Guangyao piecing together the truth.
She must have made a noise, because Tan-daifu looked at her in concern, and the boy looked up. He set down the rabbit in his lap, and shooed away the others surrounding him with gentle, practiced gestures. Getting to his feet, the boy burst into a run.
When he reached them, he bowed. A model Lan, were it not for the blades of grass clinging to his robes. He was about ten, she thought, if a little short for his age. The cloud embroidery on his ribbon marked him as a member of the main clan. “Daifu! Are you here to play with the rabbits?”
So Lans aren’t born knowing all the rules, after all. Qin Su observed. I thought there might be truth to that rumor.
It was a good thing Jiang Yanli was already smiling.
“Not today,” Tan-daifu said. “Our little radish has already taken good care of them, I’m sure.”
The boy scrunched up his nose, and Jiang Yanli could have sworn it was identical to A-Xian’s. “I’m not a little radish anymore! And the rabbits always want more ear scratches. Will you play with the rabbits, guniang? They always make Fuqin happier when he’s sad, like you are.”
“I-” How insightful. His eyes were wide and pleading, the look of a boy practiced at getting what he wanted by convincing an adult it had been their idea. She would have caved, easily, if a man in white had not come running. He came to a stop, panting, by the boy’s side.
Panting, running, the collar of his robes out of place and his guan tilted out of center. Lan Wangji seemed so little like himself, and yet was unmistakable.
All in white, Jiang Yanli thought with a pang. He still misses him.
“Fuqin!” The boy cried happily, bouncing to grasp Lan Wangji’s leg.
Did you know Hanguang-jun had a son? She asked.
I had no idea. Qin Su was as shocked as she was.
“A-Yuan.” Hanguang-jun stooped to pick him up, a grimace crossing his face as he stood, though he should have been able to lift Lan Yuan with ease. “We have spoken about talking to strangers.”
There was open panic in his eyes, as he glanced at her. She’d seen that look before, when A-Xian was in danger, but never directed at her.
No. Not at Jiang Yanli, but at Madame Jin.
“Put me down! Bobo said you shouldn’t try to lift me anymore.” Lan Yuan squirmed, and was back on his feet. Strange, she didn’t think Lan Wangji had let him go. “And Tan-daifu is here! I wasn’t unsupervised.”
Lan Wangji glanced at her again, his expression back to its habitual blankness. But his distress remained almost tangible.
She bowed. “Hanguang-jun.”
He looked away sharply, taking his son’s hand. “Let us go. It is time for your guqin lesson.”
“Mn!” Lan Yuan hummed eagerly, allowing his father to lead him away, and began chattering about the rabbits. “I think Xiao Yun is going to have babies soon!’
As they walked away, she noted that Lan Wangji’s movements were slightly stiff. A far cry from the graceful Hanguang-jun she’d often glimpsed from afar, fighting back-to-back with A-Xian.
“My most sincere apologies, Jin-furen.” Tan-daifu turned to her and bowed. Before she could ask what for, he continued. “Lan Sizhui was adopted. Hanguang-jun is very protective.”
“I see.” She replied slowly, as her mind linked together implications at the rate A-Xian had jumped from idea to idea.
A boy named A-Yuan, adopted by Lan Wangji. Whose safety he worried about, even in his own home. She couldn’t help a smile, though it made Tan-daifu look at her strangely. It was good to know that one of those A-Xian tried to help had made it.
There was a child in the Burial Mounds? Qin Su was aghast.
Jiang Yanli allowed the recollection of her visit to Yiling to explain as she turned to Tan-daifu. “Is Hanguang-jun injured?”
“Ah.” Tan-daifu stared of down the path, his expression somewhere between regret and wistfulness. “It was brave of you to ask for help. Many do not, even here.”
Only a few days after her encounter with Lan Wangji, Jiang Yanli returned to Lanling. Though Qin Su would have benefited from more time with Tan-daifu, there was little more they could do from afar. The key to removing Jin Guangyao from his position was evidence. The only evidence she would find in the Cloud Recesses was gossip — and Lans did gossip, if less openly — about how frequently he bowed just so Zewu-jun would hold his hands.
Even Jin Guangyao had to slip up sometimes, as he had the day Qin Su learned the truth. Overheard conversations that lead to witnesses or evidence left by a less careful collaborator.
Upon her arrival, Jiang Yanli sent an invitation to Jin Guangyao for tea before she had so much as unpacked.
“I am pleased to see you looking so much better.” He dimpled, but without the usual eager-to-please act. Because he had no reason to think he needed to ingratiate himself with his wife. Or perhaps he was merely too exhausted, the dark purple bags under his eyes the only sign something was off.
“You still look tired, A-Yao.” Jiang Yanli held her sleeve out of the way to pour cups of scalding hot tea. “Was Zewu-jun called away too soon.?”
“Ah.” He demurred, tapping the side of his cup to test the temperature. “I am still having difficulty with a few holdouts. Our vassals have largely fallen into line, save Zhai Qiaoling,” Sect leader of the Baota Zhai, one of the westernmost sects that had formed out of Qishan, “But most of the independent sects are still resistant. My cousin has not yet convinced Hua-zongzhu, even.”
Sympathy for the loss of a child seemed to have worked wonders on the gentry’s approval. But not as much as he’d hoped, it seemed.
Good. That could only make the bait more tempting.
Jin Guangyao’s lips thinned into a flat line. “Apologies, my troubles should not interrupt your recovery.”
Jiang Yanli shook her head. “Actually, I wanted to speak to you about something related. About my role in the future.”
“Oh? If you need more time away, I would understand.” He took a sip of now-drinkable tea.
“It’s not that. In fact, I will go mad if I remain idle any longer.” She stroked the side of her teacup, a nervous gesture of Qin Su’s. “However, there is one duty I’m afraid I cannot fulfill.”
Jin Guangyao took her hand in his. Jiang Yanli did not snatch it back, though her skin crawled. “Please, A-Su. What is it?”
“I couldn’t bear to have another child.” She cast her eyes downward, blinking rapidly, as though to prevent tears from falling. Real tears would have been better, but anticipation was currently stronger than grief.
His shoulders fell as he exhaled heavily. Jiang Yanli read it for what it was: relief.
An innocent wife would not have. She snatched her hand back, to twist them together in her lap. “We have A-Ling to inherit, but I would understand if you want to take a second wife.”
“A-Su—”
She met his eyes, speaking more firmly, with a touch of irritation. “Please don’t insult me by implying I have not noticed you value my company, but not my body.”
“I would never.” Jin Guangyao tossed back his entire cup of tea at once.
Taking a smaller sip, she struck. “Or if you wanted to act on your feelings for Zewu-jun.”
He choked on his swallow, and Qin Su snickered. I’ve never seen him this off-balance. Not even when his father suggested he take remedial cultivation classes with the ten-year-old disciples. Keep going, this is amazing.
Jiang Yanli gently reminded her that the goal today was not to humiliate Jin Guangyao, merely to hand him a distraction in the form of the things he most desired. Nevertheless, she tamped down a rebellious corner of her mouth as she offered him a handkerchief. Jin Guangyao coughed into it, struggling to regain his composure.
“How did you —” His dimples twitched as he broke off, briefly at a loss for words. “Furen, I have been faithful to you. I am not my father.”
No, he was an entirely different kind of terrible.
“I’ve never doubted that. However, I’m not blind. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.” She smiled, reaching for his hand again. This time, he jerked back. “Please, A-Yao. I understand you have feelings for him. A discrete affair with one man, with your wife’s permission, would not be the same as your father’s promiscuity.”
“You really wouldn’t mind?” Jin Guangyao looked at her like she was offering him ascension, but he didn’t trust the offer. He was right not to, but he would take it anyway.
“I wouldn’t.” And that, at least, was true. “I find I have little interest in such things these days, but I respect that you do.”
He let out a heavy sigh, and closed his eyes, simply breathing for a moment. When his eyes opened, he gave a tremulous smile. “If you’re certain, thank you, A-Su. I will speak to him when he visits for the conference next month, then.”
“Speaking of the conference, I would like to be more involved in your projects, if you would be willing.”
“Really?” His mouth hung open, his eyes wide.
It thrilled them both, to know Jiang Yanli had managed to catch him off guard. Not once, but twice in the same conversation. “Your watchtowers are brilliant, and perhaps I could help to smooth the way. Not through public recognition,” she rushed to assure him. “But I am good with finance, and certain sects might be more interested to know that Lanling’s income took a hit in your father’s final years, but has already recovered under your guidance if I am the one telling them. I believe Ran-zongzhu has been struggling to recover income from several years of bad harvests?”
“That —” His jaw worked, soundlessly, before he grinned. “That would be wonderful, A-Su.”
I didn’t know his face could do that. Qin Su said giddily. Maybe we can pull this off.
Jiang Yanli smiled sweetly back, her own mask impeccable.
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