Chapter Text
Sometimes, Jiang Cheng hates being a sect leader.
He’d always known he was going to inherit the Yunmeng Jiang sect, had always known his fate, but he’d always imagined it would be different to this. He used to think it would be easier if his sister were still alive and his adopted brother at his side. The Twin Prides of Yunmeng. He scoffs in disgust whenever he remembers that. How foolish and naive they’d been back then. How blind he’d been to what was happening around him. So absorbed in his need to rebuild the sect his parents had cherished and nurtured that he’d been ignorant to the suffering of others.
For sixteen years he’d gotten by on just grief and anger, convinced himself that his unhappiness was caused by the void left in his heart at the loss of his family, filled his time with pointless hunting and unspeakable atrocities rather than face up to the cold hard truths. But over the last six years he’d come to accept those truths, and with that came the admission that he really, genuinely detested his position some days.
He wonders now, as he sits at his table surrounded by paperwork and faced with the latest letter relating to his nephew’s upcoming wedding, whether he’s just lonely. The thought offends him enough that he makes an audible sound of disgust, though his offence is largely because it feels true.
He never really had friends growing up, associating only with his siblings and occasionally with Nie Huaisang and Lan Zhan, though only through their friendship with Wei Wuxian. And after Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were lost to him, Jiang Cheng found solace in his isolation. He revelled in the fact that there was no one to call him out on his behaviour or his temper. He’d imagined himself content to be alone forever, after all, who would want to share a life with someone like him.
Yet here he sits, faced with the horrifying truth that he is lonely.
He would never admit it to anyone, but he has seen his brother with his husband and been jealous of their obvious love and uninhibited affection. He has occasionally allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like to have someone look at him as if he’s their whole world, the way Lan Zhan looks at Wei Wuxian, but that’s impossible. Even if there was an idiot foolish enough to fall in love with him, he’s certainly too set in his ways and too foul tempered now to make adjustments for another person. He’s too inflexible.
That’s not to say he’s without options. He glances past the stack of unanswered correspondence to the pile of neatly stacked leather-bound files beyond. Each one containing matchmaker information from various regions, all proposing meetings or inviting him to exchange letters with the lucky chosen ones. He’s tried of course, he’s dutifully written the letters and attended the meetings, but it was pointless. These people don’t know him, or even want to get to know him, they’re just starry-eyed at his status and his wealth. He always gives up on the letters because he has no patience for boring small talk and has inadvertently caused a scene at many meetings due to his lack of tact and inability to curb his temper. It’s fine, he doesn’t need to marry. He’s fine alone.
His gaze falls back on the letter in his hand. It’s from Jin Ling, formally inviting him to accompany he and Lan Sizhui (and by extension Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan) to an appointment with an astrological matchmaker to determine the best date for their upcoming wedding. He still can’t quite believe his nephew is getting married. And to a Lan. What is it about these Lans that keeps attracting his family? First his brother and now Jin Ling. Though he can never understand the attraction between his brother and the stern, expressionless Lan Zhan, he can see some of the appeal of Lan Sizhui. His quiet gentleness is reminiscent of Lan Xichen and is well suited to Jin Ling’s impulsive and loud personality.
The thought of Lan Xichen gets him wondering again. He’s still sect leader of Gusu Lan even though he remains in seclusion, does he also get inundated with these ridiculous and pointless matchmaking offers? If Jiang Cheng remembers correctly, Lan Xichen is still ranked the number one bachelor, so he surely suffers worse than Jiang Cheng himself, who (he thinks) is still considered fourth.
In a stroke of boldness (or stupidity) he whips out a piece of fresh parchment and decides to find out.
Zewu-Jun,
How does one begin a letter to a person currently in seclusion? It feels improper to ask if life is treating you well or if you’ve been busy. Perhaps it’s best to just skip the pleasantries altogether?
Tell me Zewu-Jun, you’re a sect leader, do you still have to fend off marriage proposals every month? Or do they stop once one enters seclusion? If so, you might be on to something.
Forgive the abruptness and unfamiliarity of this letter. I realise that we were never friends, but I feel you’re the one person who will speak frankly with me, or at least has the time to reply.
Jiang Wanyin
He’s not sure what he’s thinking by mailing the letter, but he doesn’t expect a reply. He was telling the truth in the letter, he and Lan Xichen have never had a friendship and the last time they saw each other was after the horrors of Guanyin Temple where neither had been painted in a particularly good light. Lan Xichen is also one of the few people to know the truth about his golden core, a fact that rankles Jiang Cheng even to this day. He hates people knowing his weaknesses.
Though he didn’t expect a reply, one arrives a week later.
Dear Sect Leader Jiang,
May I address you as Jiang Wanyin? Or as you are addressing me by my title, perhaps you would prefer I use yours, Sandu Shengshou?
I agree it is best if we skip the small talk. I’m afraid seclusion provides little to offer as polite conversation, unless you have a particular interest in hearing of my meditation schedule.
Jiang Cheng pauses to snort. Was that a joke? Was the polite-mannered Lan Xichen making a joke? Perhaps seclusion has started to warp his mind. He drops his gaze back to the letter, more intrigued than ever.
You will likely be amused to hear that I receive even more marriage proposals now than before I entered seclusion. I have had some time to consider the reason for this and believe it is either because the individuals concerned believe they will have an easier marriage if their husband is not around, or they are driven by curiosity to see what my life has become. Neither are an appealing prospect, not that I am in any position to court anyone.
So, I’m afraid you will have to defer your plans to embrace seclusion as a solution to your unwanted proposals. Perhaps you could consider other methods?
Warmest regards,
Lan Xichen
Jiang Cheng reads the letter three times and each time the small jokes make him smile. Lan Xichen’s calligraphy is perfectly neat, annoyingly so. Jiang Cheng suspects that’s largely due to his responsibilities as sect leader in seclusion being limited to responding to correspondence and communicating decisions.
Jiang Cheng isn’t sure where this is going as he reaches for parchment to reply. It started as an impulsive whine, but now he’s intrigued by this side of Lan Xichen that he hasn’t seen before.
Lan Xichen,
Is that better? And Wanyin is fine.
As it is, I am highly interested in your meditation schedule. Tell me, is this schedule daily? Hourly? Are you rotating methods? I am rivetted.
Well, that’s dashed all my plans, hasn’t it? However, I will see your easy marriage and morbid curiosity and raise you masochists who are attracted to my temper and people wanting to tame the fearsome Sandu Shengshou.
Other methods you say? I’ve tried the conventional rejection and avoidance, but they don’t seem to be having the desired effect. In fact, I fear they are making it more of a challenge for prospective matches. So, what would you suggest? I have already been warned by Jin Ling that I can’t threaten them with Zidian.
Your assistance is greatly appreciated.
Jiang Wanyin
He calls for a disciple and is surprised when it is Luo Cian who enters.
Luo Cian is Yunmeng’s top disciple and something of a favourite of Jiang Cheng’s, though he does his best not to let it show. The boy had lost several family members in the Sunshot Campaign but stayed loyal to Yunmeng and went on to rise through the ranks. Though born a commoner, he’s done well to prove his ability and Jiang Cheng has always admired his determination and dedication. Due to his status among the disciples, he’s rarely on guard duty.
“Luo Cian, what brings you here? Weren’t you down for patrols this week?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too scolding. Luo Cian gives him a polite bow and a smile.
“Indeed, I was sect leader, but there was an injury during training yesterday so I’m covering a few guard shifts before my patrols begin.”
Jiang Cheng tsks. It’s not that he’s not grateful for the boy’s commitment and willingness to help, it’s just that he worries the other disciples take advantage of him. Luo Cian is always so desperate to provide himself, believing that he needs to compensate for his low-ranking birth, that he sometimes takes on too much. Jiang Cheng wants to tell him to get someone else to cover the patrol, that two shifts back-to-back is too much, but he knows a little something of pride and would hate to wound Luo Cian’s.
“That’s commendable, but ensure you leave yourself time to rest and train.”
Luo Cian smiles and Jiang Cheng suspects that he can tell how difficult it is for him not to say more.
“Was there something you needed, sect leader?”
Jiang Cheng remembers the letter then and hastily seals it. He passes it to Luo Cian.
“Please arrange for this to be sent to Gusu immediately and request that any reply is given to me as soon as it arrives.”
“Yes, sect leader.” Luo Cian bows and leaves. Jiang Cheng watches him go thoughtfully.
The other downside to the many failed matchmaker attempts is that Jiang Cheng is still without an heir for the sect. His only living blood relative is Jin Ling and he can’t be in charge of Yunmeng Jiang as well as Lanling Jin. Jiang Cheng will admit that he has often considered Luo Cian as a potential candidate for heir. Since Lan Zhan’s policy changes made it possible for sects to choose an heir from within their ranks instead of having to allow the next blood relative to inherit, Jiang Cheng has been considering his options.
If he’s honest, he never expected to marry. He’s had the odd attraction over the years, but he was never keen to pursue it and he doubts whether he’s suited to the role of a husband. He would surely be too bad tempered and neglectful. As a result, Lan Zhan’s succession change had been welcome in Yunmeng.
Luo Cian has the potential to be an excellent leader. His cultivation skill is exceptional, and he’s demonstrated good leadership on night hunts. Plus, Jiang Cheng likes the boy. He’s polite and good-natured; both would probably be a welcome change for the sect after Jiang Cheng’s leadership. Of course, he is yet to voice any of this to anyone and he has no clue whether Luo Cian would even be interested in becoming the heir, but it’s good to have a plan.
He wonders what Lan Xichen’s plan for succession is. Lan Zhan is a few years younger and could take on the leadership should anything terrible happen to Lan Xichen in the short term, but they would still need to choose someone from the next generation to inherit. Jiang Cheng has always suspected it would go to Lan Sizhui, given that he is Lan Zhan’s adopted son, but that isn’t possible now that he’s marrying Jin Ling. Would they choose the other Lan boy then, Lan Jingyi? Or perhaps Lan Xichen is still open to a marriage one day, one that might provide heirs. The thought irritates Jiang Cheng a bit. He felt a sense of solidarity in not being the only sect leader unwilling to marry.
Dear Jiang Wanyin,
Isn’t that better? We almost sound like friends now.
My meditation schedule is no joke. I shall have to show it to you the next time you are in Gusu. You will be astonished, I’m sure.
You have won this round. It is an unfortunate consequence of the direction our lives have taken us in, I suppose. No-one said that being a sect leader was glamorous. Nor that courting and marriage were, for that matter.
I think sect leader Jin is correct that violence is not the answer, however tempting. I have the luxury of directing all of my offers to Wangji who refuses on my behalf. Perhaps you could develop a questionnaire of some kind? Throw in some trick questions to catch out the ones with suspicious motives.
Warmest regards,
Lan Xichen
Jiang Cheng reads the letter a second time before his gaze snags on the word friends and stays there. It wounds his pride to admit it, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t have any friends. It’s his own fault of course. He’s made no effort to cultivate friendships or to even socialise with others beyond what is expected of him for his duties. He’s rarely minded over the years, preferring to fill his time with business and sparring, but he’ll admit, having a friend doesn’t sound horrible.
His eyes drift back to the letter again. A questionnaire. He smirks a little at the suggestion, spending a few moments contemplating the kinds of questions he’d include. It would be rather fun. Not that the sect elders would ever agree to it.
He’s surprised by how fun exchanging these letters has been. Who would’ve thought that the fearsome Sandu Shengshou and the gentle Zewu-Jun would become friends?