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Chapter Text

In this tale as old as time, there is a hero and his familiar.

The hero is brilliant; his familiar, even more brilliant. So, to make a worthy adversary for a pair as resplendent as the Spirited Knight Captain, the hero, and the Virtuous Marquis, his most trusted friend and companion, the evils of the Sun Kingdom are born.

From the sketchy royals to vicious brothers and relatives, the two must overcome their trials in the name of peace and justice.

Or at least that was what the Mandarin copy of the book description said.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t be bothered to pick apart the differences it has with the international copy brought upon by the nuances of each language. He’s more interested with how the names have been translated somehow. And—

—craaackk!!

“…”

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Light breeze sweeps in and out of the room with cool and gentle caresses, carrying with it a distinct scent only a few certain hours of the day possess. There’s barely any sound from outside—the crickets long been silent some few minutes ago—except for the occasional light footsteps thumping to-and-fro outside his door.

Must be popo.

Wait.

Popo?

That’s when Jiang Cheng knows: Oh, it’s morning.

Ugh.

It’s morning.

He has responsibilities he definitely cannot sleep on. Not popo’s coffee, ­­not A-Lan’s breakfast, and definitely not his morning shift in the café. And most of all, not A-Sang’s book he’s translating that pays so well he’s so close to reaching his goals.

But he’s so cozy right now!

Jiang Cheng shifts under the soft covers, stills, and then listens to the sound outside. He has long since determined the sets of busy footsteps to be the same person shuffling around. He hears none of the more measured and even rhythmic ones he’s taken to cue his rising if he doesn’t want a pair of smaller hands challenging his authority by tending to work he should not be doing and making Jiang Cheng feel as terrible as he is rendered useless.

(He really should get up. A-Sang tends to arrive so early, he would feel bad not to do the same. It’s not like he’s not looking forward to it—if not ecstatic because that would be Wuling-ge, his co-worker, whose odd hobby he has recently uncovered—but he’s really, really so cozy.)

Maybe a minute more.

Just one more minute—

“DIDI! DIDI! A-CHENG! HOW ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU ALIVE???”

Who the fu—

“Shut the fuck up, Wei Wuxian or I swear—” Jiang Cheng slaps a hand to his mouth, eyes flying open as he jolts up.

Wei who now?

There is no way he has shouted that instinctively!

Yet before he can assess the situation, something—someone—lands on him, forcing him back down the bed. It takes a few seconds for him to realize it’s a person, and when he finally does, he immediately struggles.

“The hell?? Get off, man!” Unease begins to seep within when he finds himself completely immobilized. He’s pinned face down, arms tightly bound to his sides by a pair of clearly more muscular arms, the head buried between the crook of his shoulder preventing him from even turning his head to look at his attacker. Soon enough, the unease turns to panic. He yells out: “Who the fuck are you?! What on earth are you trying to do??!”

“A-Cheng… A-Cheng…” replies the man, voice hoarse and muffled. Jiang Cheng can’t decide if he knows the man or not.

He tenses when the arms tighten their hold, and then—and then there’s… trembling?

What the hell kind of pervert climbed up his bed??!

Wetness begins to spread on his shirt where the man has lain his face on his shoulder. Jiang Cheng frowns.

What the actual fu—

Who let him in? Whose friend is this? A-Lan can’t possibly make friends with someone who barges into someone else’s room and harass them like this! He refuses to believe it!

But why the hell does this pervert know his name?

A wave of disgust momentarily overtakes the panic, calming him enough to throw a well-timed elbow jab when the man makes a second mistake of loosening his hold. Jiang Cheng relishes in the sound of pain the stranger makes as he takes his chance to finally wiggle free.

“Ouch! ChengCheng! As mean as ever!”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t even get to curse when he falls on the floor still tangled in the sheets. He immediately scrambles back to put a distance between him and the stranger still rolling dramatically around the bed, moaning that disgusting nickname.

“Wei Wuxian! Have you no shame?!”

For the second time, Jiang Cheng slaps a palm to his lips.

Again!?

Wei Wu—

Wait.

Wait.

Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait!

Large amethyst eyes scan the very, very decorated room—he finally notices is definitely not his room—and then looks at the pouting face on the bed who looks exactly like what you would expect a Wei Wuxian to look like.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Amethyst eyes blink. One, two, and then—

The last thing Jiang Cheng hears is a panicked voice before he’s falling.

Chapter Text

One. Two. Three.

He opens his eyes slowly, and—

Jiang Cheng is not amused.

“Great,” he groans into the sheets. “Great. Great. Great. Just great.”

He remembers now, after two surreal mornings he has tried time and time again to blink away in hopes of it being a dream, that the morning he has woken up for popo’s tea, A-Lan’s breakfast, and his own preparation to his morning shift has already happened.

He has already walked to the café, hands in his pockets for warmth and wrapped in all layers of clothes popo has found satisfactory. It has been winter, and snow has thickened since its first fall. The grounds have been iced and slippery, hence, Jiang Cheng has walked with more care than he usually does.

He has already met with A-Sang, the writer indeed having arrived early prior to their agreed meeting time, and they have conversed quite pleasantly before he’s given parts of the manuscript he’s translating for the week as well as a few outlines he has asked for. He has already gotten his hands on the manuscript, has already began to walk to the café after a few goodbyes, and has already opened the manuscript despite the nagging thought at the back of his head to fucking watch his steps because for heaven’s sake, the road is frozen.

Jiang Cheng groans further into the bed.

Of course, do foolish things, gain foolish outcomes. He remembers bumping with someone and inevitably slipping on the thick ice atop what is supposedly gravel. And, well, he doesn’t remember pain, but he does remember the sound of something cracking—likely this ironically thick skull of his—and remembers feeling warm liquid pooling around his head before he blacks out.

And of fucking course, he has transmigrated into the very story he has held on to so tightly while he has bled on snow-covered ground likely until he has run out of red to bleed.

Sigh.

I’m sorry, popo. I’m sorry Xiao Lan.

Ah, Song Lan, Song Lan. That child has better learn not to burn his rice. Otherwise—

Otherwise, I’ll break your legs when I return, he sniffs futilely in his mind. I’ll break your legs if you burn the kitchen. I’ll—

Ugh!

Jiang Cheng has never known himself a cry-er, but it hasn’t exactly taken him long to find out he is as emotionally volatile as he is difficult to bring to tears. It’s anger emotions draw out of him, and unrest, and a sense of spiraling, and an overall sense of loss. The anger is easy, its consequences manageable no matter how embarrassing it can get. The loss, though— That is something that has always managed to suck everything out of him. When things fall through his hands like falling sands, the mess—the lack of control—leaves him with an incomprehensible deep sense of emptiness.

(He has a vague understanding of where it comes from, of course, but he has never liked thinking about it when all it brings him is ache, ache, ache—his head, his heart, even his eyes when thinking about it keeps him up for nights.)

Okay.

He has to stop thinking about it too much or he’ll lose his mind than he already has, because coming into terms with his apparent death has not been easy, the transmigration even more difficult. Of course, he has had all of yesterday and the other day to process his new reality, but an easy acceptance would have to take more than just two days of isolation and a Wei Wuxian buzzing around him to confirm that he is, indeed, living and breathing in this new world—that is definitely not the afterlife—somehow.

Transmigration. Hah.

If not for Wuling-ge’s love for this trope, he wouldn’t have even considered the term. Hell, he wouldn’t have even known the word! Perhaps it has finally come to a use that Jiang Cheng has a sharp memory he just can’t help but store away key information from Zhang Wuling’s blabbering even if he’s not consciously listening.

Air. I need air.

Jiang Cheng groans resentfully into the pillow one last time before finally rolling around and setting his smaller, daintier feet into the carpeted floor. At the sight of them, another groan threatens to rumble out of his chest yet again, but he resists the urge in favor of plastering a permanent scowl he wears all the way to the window he has kept close all these days.

The creak it produces grates his ears, but it’s soon forgotten the moment a wave of air press against his face like a splash of cool water.

“AH! CHENGCHENG!!”

Bad idea.

“MY CHENGCHENG FINALLY WOKE UP!!”

Jiang Cheng flinches, lips dropping to a deeper scowl at the sight of one Wei Wuxian seemingly harassing a poor unassuming donkey he has heard the older call “Little Apple” yesterday or the other. The little shi—knight captain—pulls on the donkey’s reins inattentively as he waves his arms around with a shitty, shitty grin on his sweaty face.

Ugh.

Wei Wuxian is a very, very good-looking young man around twenty or something. He has a boyish charm to him, what with those bright eyes and contagious smiles. He wears nothing except for a pair of ruffled white dress shirt and trousers, long hair tied carelessly into a ponytail, and looking very much unbecoming for his noble position, but he moves with a certain grace Jiang Cheng remembers—recognizes immediately—to be unique to the main character as far as the story goes.

And this main character stands there over the greens, tall and muscular, and glowing with the layer of golden sheen on his skin like the true hero he is supposed to be. He can even pass of as a youngest wayward little prince even when he stumbles over one indignant Little Apple.

Jiang Cheng cannot find it in himself fond.

He is, well, as angry as he is allowed to feel over the situation two or so days since it happened.  Of course he is. He cannot accept living in a story book with a predetermined plot, a predetermined role, and a predetermined ending.

(He tries to ignore how it also stings that fate would deem him fitting a villain role. A hero he can’t even dream of, but is he really so unfavored by fate he’s not at least deserving of peace as a minor, negligible character?)

“Erm.”

“Ugh. What?” Jiang Cheng whips his head around, wincing when his eyes catch on a small figure. A child. A very familiar child in Western middle age fashion and looking like a very refined young master. Jiang Cheng grimaces. “Oh, Hanan. What brings you here?”

“This one brought breakfast for Young Master.”

The boy steps inside with a kind of grace Jiang Cheng can only wish to possess at least half of. He’s a fairly pretty boy: Tall and slender with long straight black hair and dark upturned eyes.

Aside from one rambunctious Wei Wuxian, Hanan has been the only other living being visiting him these past two days. He brings Jiang Cheng food, drinks, and even reminds him to bath. He’s a silent one, most of the time, but he’s sensible. Too sensible, in fact, that Jiang Cheng often feels chastised even under the boy’s politest tone and warmest smile.

The kid is only thirteen years old. How annoying.

This thirteen-year-old kid is also taller and leaner than him. How even more annoying.

Easy to be fond of, still.

He reminds Jiang Cheng of Song Lan.

He also reminds Jiang Cheng of his only role: a one-liner scene of his first and last appearance. An entrance and death in the same sentence. Tragic. He’s ashamed to think he hasn’t cared the first time he’s read it in passing. He was too young.

He just lost his appetite.

“You know what?” Jiang Cheng begins, ready to dismiss the young man with a wave of his hand. “I don’t—”

And then his traitorous stomach just has to choose that moment to growl much, much louder than he can shout “Fuck you” in A-Sang’s face when they meet again because fuck! Couldn’t he have written something else? Something absolutely normal? Something light and happy?? (Oh, fuck it. It’s not like he hasn’t actually enjoyed reading it.)

Hanan graciously pretends he has heard nothing before turning his head to the side, as if in gesture. Jiang Cheng freezes in place when a line of maids scurry in with… not just food inside.

“What—What is this?” He swallows thickly, eyeing the clothes, bath towels, razors, razors, razors, and more sharp things he’s not going to tolerate anywhere near his balls. (Are they about to circumcise him or what—) Jiang Cheng immediately steps back in alarm. “Hanan, what do you mean by this?”

The sensible little shit smiles innocently before ducking.

“Young Master asked for two days. It has been two days.”

Right. Right.

He has asked for two days of leaving him the fuck alone until he digests the fact that he’s in a fucking ABO novel set in the olden western era as a secondary villain whom the readers hate to death more than the main villains they signed petitions to kill him off earlier than even the author would like.

“I swear, it’s like I’m not even the author anymore!” his friend would rant off while rapping his new fan against the countertop until it snaps into half.

And Jiang Cheng would think wryly, “Who told you to become famous?” In fact, who told A-Sang he has to lick his readers’ boots?

And then A-Sang would point the broken fan to his nose to say, “I know what you’re thinking, A-Cheng. Don’t even dare! You don’t understand the pains it takes to get into the international market.”

And then he would get into another rant about the comments he would get against said secondary villain, voicing them out one by one exactly how they would be typed out:

“Look how creative they are, ah! ‘Get d characters 2 grrb his hair and sl-capital A-p both his cheeks un-space-til he spits blud! Angry emoji, angry emoji, angry emoji, and about a hundred exclamation points.’ At least check your spelling before commenting! ‘What better character to sacrifice to the crown prince if not this annoying little bug? Send him off to get his head BBQ-ed on their front gate! Evil emoji, evil emoji, barbecue emoji, fire, fire, skull.’ Skull? Can you believe it? I’m writing rated PG! And ‘cut off his balls’??? A-Cheng, if you—”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head to rid himself of the memories, shuddering.

A-Sang is still working on the second book and hasn’t killed off any villains yet. But although he has mentioned having no such plans to kill off any villain aside from a certain someone because “again, it’s rated PG! Rated PG!”, Jiang Cheng doesn’t trust his friend to not scrap his ideas in favor of pleasing his vengeful readers.

(Anyway, he’s quite sure that “certain someone” is actually him because he’s currently the most loathed character. Even he has wished A-Sang would take Jiang Wanyin out of the picture at one point because of how annoying he has gotten, though he hasn’t actually wished upon any brutal method.)

“Young Master?”

Jiang Cheng glances at Hanan’s smile then at the maid holding up the box of sharp things, then at the closed door behind the young man.

“I will have my breakfast first,” he declares. Hanan doesn’t budge. “…right?”

“After grooming, Young Master.”

Well.

There’s still an open window behind him—

With a sweeter smile, Hanan calmly says to the maids: “Hold the Young Master down.”

In hindsight, perhaps Wei Wuxian isn’t the best person to complain to.

The knight captain—not yet, anyway, but he will be in a month or less—has worriedly turned him to and fro, worried that his screaming meant he has gotten hurt, but as soon as Jiang Cheng explains it has been because of a horribly brutal sugar waxing on his legs, the man began twitching on the ground laughing.

He hasn’t stopped. It’s been an hour.

“Say, did they also wax your balls?”

Eyes close, Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “I will pull all the hair out of your pits.”

Wei Wuxian covers his armpits.

Jiang Cheng huffs in satisfaction as he downs his tea.

All the waxing and its historical accuracy aside, what has actually made him shout so much has been an influx of information while a maid has tended to plucking his eyebrows while he tries to relax in the bath. It has hurt like a bitch he shouted so loudly the poor maid thought he’s about to kill her.

And then Hanan just has to burst in to further scare them both that Jiang Cheng stood up before realizing he’s naked. And then they all shrieked at each other.

But as much as Hanan’s minute change in composure has been funny, Jiang Cheng cannot laugh because after that, he has slipped butt naked. In the end, the younger man has to carry him like a bride back to his bed, still naked.

Ugh.

Ugh!

Unfortunately, this is not a dream he can wake up from no matter how many times he prays to whatever god answers his prayers. He simply has to bear the shame and own up to it like a man.

A man?

Hah!

He’s still a fucking omega.

Because great fucking heavens, the influx of information he randomly recovered reminds him heavily of the kind of world he has been unceremoniously thrown into, which, without a fail, also applies to him. And of fucking course, he’s an omega. He is not, but Jiang Wanyin is, and he is in Jiang Wanyin’s body, so he is now, and nothing about the situation makes it good. (Not that he doesn’t actually already know this. It’s just that he hasn’t quite realized the reality of it yet.)

It occurs to him now, with more sense, that Wei Wuxian’s whiny explanation of his shameless harassment of Jiang Cheng two days ago has been because of his confinement in his room for more than a week due to his heat. Apparently, the alpha—of fucking course, the main character is an alpha—has missed him so terribly. Disgusting.

It also explains why despite looking like his former self, albeit younger, Jiang Wanyin’s features are on the softer, rounder side in contrast to his originally sharper, manlier features. And he is significantly shorter than Hanan, a beta, despite Jiang Wanyin being sixteen this year. (He looks like a fucking thirteen-year-old the first time he checked himself in the mirror! What the hell?!)

On the bright side, he still has potential for growth. Jiang Cheng will make sure this little kid will get more muscles and scars! Scars, definitely!

The story has already done well making Jiang Wanyin an anomaly of his secondary gender, anyway. He’s always been compared to a character called Meng Yao who is short, small, petite, whatever, and smart, gentle, friendly, smiley, pleasant voice, graceful, good with children, good with people, good with animals, probably also good with inanimate objects.

It’s not explicitly mentioned, but the amount of praise Meng Yao gets from the rest of the characters as well as from the readers hinted as much. Not very hard to conclude that a model omega is basically him.

On the other hand, Jiang Wanyin will grow to be fairly attractive, indeed, but leaning more on to the sharp side, especially with his signature frown. He will grow taller than the average omega, will not have an ounce of gentleness, will have control issues, voice control issues, anger issues, compulsion issues, obsession issues, and all other personality issues anyone can think of as an etcetera.

Those issues aside, fuck the stereotypes. Jiang Cheng refuses to be softer even if it will potentially save his life two years from now.

(More than that, he refuses to be envious of this future knight captain beside him who is only one year older than him but is already tall and bulky enough. Figures, he’s an alpha and the main character.)

“So, are we going back tomorrow?”

“Huh?” Jiang Cheng replies absentmindedly, eyes having spaced out on a bush behind his companion. It’s outrageously colorful in this mini mansion it’s hard to look at something and not space out at the sheer saturation. “Go back where?”

“Home, obviously?” Wei Wuxian’s grin shifts to concern. He stills from his previous bouncing on his seat, and Jiang Cheng is glad to stop worrying about the chair breaking. “Why? Are you still upset at Uncle and the Duchess?”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t answer for a while, too focused on the intricate details of the teacup he’s holding between his infuriatingly delicate fingers. Antique. Definitely antique.

Of course, he’s not upset with whatever people who are not his parents have done to his-not-self-Jiang-Wanyin. He’s more worried that they might find him strange. Or the infamous Violet Duchess will, anyway.

It’s never not mentioned in the book how the Jiang Duke and Duchess have always had a rocky relationship, so much so that their children grew up messed up in the head some way or another. A character or another like emphasizing the Duke’s favoritism of his late right-hand-man’s son, Wei Wuxian, over his own son because he’s smarter, stronger, and also an alpha. Meanwhile, the overly jealous and controlling Duchess favors her son, Jiang Wanyin, in a twisted way, always pushing him to beat Wei Wuxian.

Yu Ziyuan is not a good character, but she hyperfocuses on her son enough to actually know him from inside and out. Jiang Cheng fears she will notice something amiss.

Sigh.

Why can’t the general information he has received be memories instead? That would be more helpful than knowing Jiang Wanyin’s birth name is also Jiang Cheng, which is convenient but the gods forbid he finds out about whether or not Jiang Wanyin from 13 days ago hasn’t made enemies who would murder him upon his return to the capital.

“Okay, if you do not want to face them yet, we will not go tomorrow,” says the older that Jiang Cheng has to take a double look at his face only to catch a flash of something dark glinting in his eyes. “If you want, we don’t have to go anywhere the capital at all.”

Jiang Cheng frowns in disapproval.

“I might as well kill myself before the Duch—mother kills me herself.” The Duchess would hunt him down if he doesn’t return for too long. A woman like her does not like losing face even if said “face” is ironically her failure of a son. “Besides, isn’t there a meeting with the King soon? Mother would definitely want me there.”

That is the point of all the grooming he has just received earlier. Hanan has briefed him of his schedule for when he returns to the capital, and as his mother’s mascot, he has a lot of socializing to do.

Even Wei Wuxian is not free from it. Jiang Fengmian would want to show off his own treasured pawn to everyone.

And what a headache that would be.

Wei Wuxian’s offer is tempting, but despite being the main character, he gets into enough shit he’s just not reliable despite his grand ideas. Besides, Jiang Cheng is going to need to attend that meeting to get a feel of the characters.

(He’s going to fucking find a way to secure his survival first, and then after that, he’s going to fucking hunt down whatever god threw him down this hellhole and crawl his way back into A-Lan and popo’s life.)

In the least offensive way possible to A-Sang, Jiang Cheng can describe the flow of the plot as basic.

It is anyone’s usual hero adventures. That it’s structured and written well makes all the difference, and the sub-plots too because they are well-thought out, and the mysteries because they carry high-levels of suspense anyone would endure being kept on their toes just to get to a resolution.

It’s written in English, the characters blessed as Knight Captain Wain and Marquis Landenburg, but they have first been called Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji before A-Sang’s editor suggested he westernizes everything to match the setting. Jiang Cheng has been instructed to keep said names when he has begun translating the first chapter into Mandarin, hence his familiarity with them more than their western counterpart.

He’s been at it for at least five chapters before he’s so rudely interrupted by death itself. Good thing he has already read the book so he is familiar with the plot. (He has tried to read as he translates, but Wuling-ge’s familiarity with the novel meant he is so thoroughly spoiled with the plot anyway, so he has gone ahead and binged until the end.)

Wei Wuxian’s life is supposed to be rough, as any hero story would go, and he is supposed to endure everything so that he will be rewarded his final destiny: for the world to worship the ground he walks on.

As any hero story would go, of course, he also gains many friends just as he gains many foes. His number one ally, partner, sidekick, and eventually, lover, is Lan Wangji. The romance has not been too heavy, just painfully slow and unbearable because they are both virgin alphas who know nothing but pine, pine, pine. There are sprinkles and hints everywhere to know enough that they will end up together in the second book.

A-Sang has confirmed the pairing himself and even declared book two will disgust Jiang Cheng for the sheer amount of dog-blood romance drama that will happen to compensate for the lack of it in the first book. Apparently, as much as A-Sang doesn’t want to write more of it, his readers are demanding and he’s ill at ease to not deliver.

Jiang Cheng himself has seen the readers’ favor for a prospective secondary couple, so he’s not too surprised if the characters Lan Xichen and Meng Yao will also end up together in the second book, even if A-Sang has emphasized one too many times that only the “WangXian” couple are gay. The rest are apparently straight.

Yeah, right.

Anyone who can read would definitely look at the bromances all over the story and think: Yeah. Gay. Definitely gay. As the book’s part-time translator, Jiang Cheng, who doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body, can also confirm: Everything is definitely meant to be gay.

But who cares about the gay if he’s going to die? Ha? Ha?? Hah!

Prospective death aside, Jiang Wanyin is also going to suffer thousands of humiliations for his villainous acts. Even if he hasn’t done anything yet and even if he’s planning to not play his part as a villain to cross the main characters, he knows his current position will still do him no favor.

One, he is an heir to a dukedom, and he’s bound to have enemies as soon as he is born. Who’s to say no one will do a thing or two to somehow frame him for something he will not do or, better yet, to just send him off to death?

Two, the Jiang family’s dukedom is cracking due to the absolute shit that the Duke and Duchess’s relationship is. The Jiang family is going to fall because a hero always needs one tragic backstory or one thousand to qualify as one. (He has not blinked at all when reading the book, but right now, he really wishes to burn all of A-Sang’s fans one by one.)

And three, Jiang Wanyin has always had a bad temper since young that he has no friends. Meaning, every other noble is his enemy, enemy, enemy, and enemy. Well, not technically, but the book said: “Jiang Wanyin’s relationship with everyone aside from his sister and brother has always been cold and distant. What’s more is that no one wants to get close. Everyone is just content with the distance.” That’s basically setting him up as a future villain.

With the amount of drama in the book, Jiang Cheng can predict that someone is really definitely going to try and antagonize him as a way of indirectly harming the hero of the story, such as what has always happened in the book. He’s not too sure about his ability to stand up for himself because he’s aware of how similar he is to Jiang Wanyin in terms of letting his emotions get the best of him. (It’s why despite being annoyed at the character, he has found he couldn’t be as passionate with his hate as much as all of A-Sang’s other readers are.)

He is really going to hunt down whoever put him here. Ugh.

“I had fucking plans, you know,” Jiang Cheng mutters to no one in particular as he nibbles on a piece of cookie because he has nothing else to do in a half-a-day carriage ride. He has insisted on horses because he can handle himself, thank you very much, but both Hanan and Wei Wuxian do not think so. The little shits, both of them are. “I had plans and I just have to go ahead and slip on ice.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian asks from the side, apparently done with his furious scribbling on a notebook.

“I said I am planning to kick you off this carriage if you stop looking at me every now and then. What do you think am I? A fucking child?” Jiang Cheng winces to himself as soon as he realizes what he has said. He is a child.

Wei Wuxian simply grins in a way that gives Jiang Cheng the feeling he’s about to say something shitty again.

Yes. The shitty boy begins to gush: “But aren’t you? You’re my precious baby brother. You are, aren’t you? You’re my cutest and loveliest ChengCheng~”

Jiang Cheng shudders in disgust.

“Man, shut the fuck up.”

No wonder they don’t get along upon growing up.

The sound of flowing water is music to the dancing water lilies and lotuses. They’re graceful under the golden halo of the sun; splendid over the glitters of the clear river.

In the middle of their dancing rites stands the massive Jiang manor in white walls with silver accents and lilac roofs.

Country bumpkin Jiang Cheng finds himself so impressed for the first time ever that he is rendered speechless as soon as he steps out of the carriage. The mini mansion back in whatever that location is has been plenty dazzling, sure, but nothing quite as massive as the main Jiang manor.

Wei Wuxian has to shake him out of his daze.

“A-Cheng? Are you okay? Do you want to go back? Don’t be scared, gege is here.”

Jiang Cheng snaps out of it with a glare shot at this little shit in front of him who is blocking the prettier view.

“What gege? Who is going back? Who is scared? Stop talking nonsense!”

And because he is an absolute shit, Wei Wuxian comes throwing himself around Jiang Cheng that they almost topple over.

“Aiya, no need to lie in front of your gege. We will go back if you want it. I will even hide you away, just say it.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “Keep that dark look to yourself, will you? You are creeping me out.”

Wei Wuxian steps back, laughing loudly. “Whatever do you mean, my ChengCheng?”

“Who is yours—” That’s it. He’s really not going to associate himself with that creep anymore. Jiang Cheng shoves the creepy little shit aside and marches off to the massive doorway that is bigger than the floor-to-ceiling glass window of the café he works at—has used to, anyway. “So disgusting!”

Hero my ass.

He’s really fitting for that Lan Wangji guy. That guy is a weirdo. Wei Wuxian is a weirdo. They’re both weirdos. How perfect.

Jiang Cheng’s musings halt when the gate-looking doors open on their own. His legs step forward on instinct.

“Welcome back, Young Master!”

“What the—” Floral, spice, musk, fruits, earthly—All sorts of mixed scents barrage his nose he can almost taste them at the back of his throat. A particularly sharp pain shot through his temples that he loses balance.

“A-Cheng!” he hears Wei Wuxian exclaims before he’s caught from his fall, yet all he can reply with is a groan as both his nasal and temples begin throbbing. “A-Cheng?? Are you okay? What happened?!”

Dude, if you could just shut up before I throw up on your annoying face.

“Bring him out!” a female voice commands with a particular tone that Jiang Cheng cringes and shrinks smaller within—as disgusting as it is—Wei Wuxian’s arms. “And the lot of you! Clear the air at once!”

“Okay, okay. I got you,” soothes the young alpha, trying his best to rush outside without jostling the younger nestled against his chest as cute and tease-able as it is.

It has taken a few minutes, but the nausea and throbbing in Jiang Cheng’s head does subside. When he comes to, he’s thankfully already put down. (He’s going to pretend he hasn’t been princess-carried for the second time for the sake of his manly pride.)

“Fucking hell. That was horrible,” he complains as soon as he feels lighter enough to do so. He has forgotten scents are big deal in this world. It’s how people find husbands and wives in the first place.

Omegas in heat are sensitive to scents except from that of their mates. Hence, mated or not, they are often brought to a private retreat where they’re tended to by beta servants who bear no scents. Visitors are required to mask their scents, too. It is why even Wei Wuxian, a pretty dominant alpha, has had no scent to remind Jiang Cheng of A-Sang’s very creative world-building.

“You could have asked your gege to help if you are still sensitive,” Wei Wuxian scolds.

“How would I know?” he argues guiltlessly.

He knows, too, that some omegas are still sensitive 2-4 days after their heat ends. It’s only remedied by scent acclimation which he is not going to be receiving from the main character.

“I will help—”

“You will not.”

“But—”

No. He is not going to be sniffing Wei Wuxian’s scent, even if Lan Wangji has once described it with the most poetic words Jiang Cheng has ever read it makes him want to pluck his eyes out.

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth again but thankfully doesn’t get to sound a single word out when another person walks out of the door smelling faintly like a rich madam, which she very much is. Jiang Cheng can’t really point out what the scent is, but it is faint enough to not overwhelm his olfactory sense.

Except—

This person wears a coronet on her long, straight dark hair, a frown on her thin red lips, and lightning on her pair of fierce purple eyes currently pinning him on whatever ground he’s standing on.

“A-Cheng,” she calls out sharply even Wei Wuxian froze with him.

She’s regal, alright, and she looks so much like Jiang Wanyin she could pass off as Jiang Cheng’s own, but her eyes—and purple-painted claws—could really kill.

His skin prickles.

The book has not been exaggerating.

He swallows thickly before mustering up the courage to look into her awaiting eyes and reply:

“Uh, hello?”

Chapter Text

Yu Ziyuan is not amused to say the least.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself? ‘Hello’?”

Jiang Cheng winces, trying again, “I’m… back?” At the raise of her thin brow, he scrambles to add, “M—Mother…?”

The Duchess gazes at him for five dreadful seconds before scoffing. He tries to breathe discreetly when the pressure leaves him.

“You still have the face to return, Wuxian?” the Duchess sneers towards Wei Wuxian’s direction with so much hatred Jiang Cheng flinches all the same.

He cannot even blame the future knight captain for standing straighter and looking thoroughly chastised, which is very obviously not a usual look on him.

He could even laugh if only he’s not currently struggling to breathe normally.

“This lowly one sincerely apologizes, Your Grace!”

“You think an apology will cut it?!”

Jiang Cheng hides a grimace.

He has read enough scenes of the Violet Duchess to predict just what kind of words she will stab you with. Even the lowliest of bows will not quell her ire once it alights.

She is not a recurring character due to her and her husband’s early, off-screen death, but the handfuls of scenes she has in the form of flashbacks is always of her scolding her children, Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian especially.

She’s restive with her own son’s lack of luck to be first place for once and vexed with her husband’s adopted son’s penchant for getting into trouble. Though her anger runs far deeper than that: Apparently, her husband is yet to move on from his first love who also happens to be Wei Wuxian whom he favors more than Yu Ziyuan’s son.

Talk about emotional baggage.

“Please forgive me!”

Surprisingly, the Duchess relents with a scoff. She waves a fair hand, the action a bit aggressive it looks as though she’s batting away a pesky fly—which Wei Wuxian very much is, yes, indeed.

“Off with you!”

Jiang Cheng will scold himself later for doing it, but he doesn’t stop himself from turning to Wei Wuxian, eyes growing big in begging for the other to stay.

But whatever cuteness skills he has is absolutely trash because this little shit simply turns his face away apologetically and actually scurries away. He runs away, tail between his legs, like a fucking coward.

Coward!

And supposedly, he is the main character?

“And you!”

Jiang Cheng can only shudder.

Slowly, he opens the eyes he hasn’t even noticed he has closed together in fright and turns to face the tigress.

Though when he sees sharp claws raised into the air, he shuts his eyes back again and braces himself for the impact.

Then—

Huh?

Haaa????

“Breathe, boy,” comes the firm but warmer command.

Jiang Cheng tries to follow, only to fail as he tries to process why those sharp claws are through his hair, the others flat against his back. There’s warmth and softness against his cheeks and the feel of silky hair tickling his nose but he. Is. Not. Going. To. Think. About. It.

Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat the absolute fuck is this???

“Breathe.”

At that, he finally exhales. Then he forces himself to inhale, nose tingling at the stronger concentration of the Duchess’s scent.

It still overwhelms him, but to a manageable degree. He notices faintly that it’s somehow cool.

He breathes again, this time trying not to think about the claws on his head, but instead of gentle hands carding through his hair. Another breath. Hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles. Inhale. Exhale.

Then finally, on his last conscious breathing, he hears her steady heartbeat and feels the rise and fall of her chest, a little louder, a little more pronounced.

Huh.

This… is not so bad.

Jiang Cheng wakes to the sound of running water, and the first thing he thinks is, “Popo must be washing the dishes.”

The thought doesn’t fail to gouge a disgruntled grumble out of him. Popo is supposed to be resting. She’s old, and she’s almost blind. She’s not supposed to be washing dishes.

“That’s my job, popo.”

And then he catches a glimpse of an even more elaborately carved ceiling, of golden-coated accents on white walls, and of crystal-looking purple stones lined along the top of what can only be a vanity table.

He laughs dryly.

“Of course,” he mutters, placing an arm over his eyes in defeat.

He must have fallen asleep at some point.

Although it is difficult to fathom how that embrace could have felt so… comforting, he manages to fall asleep amidst the Duchess’s distant scoldings of knowing better and getting acclimated or something.

Then again, perhaps the one thing his shock-riddled brain has overlooked is that she is, still, Jiang Wanyin’s mother, and he, her son. He just hasn’t expected it to be soft, even if not gentle, and firm instead of stiff and awkward.

“ChengCheng!!”                 

Jiang Cheng groans, taking a pillow and smothering his own face with it.

“ChengCheng? ChengCheng?”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t budge. He burrows deeper into his sheets despite hearing the nearing footsteps. He doesn’t budge even when the incessant “ChengCheng-ChengChengs” begin to surround him like an annoying mosquito. Not even when the ChengChengs turn to A-Chengs. And not even when the little shit dives into the bed, jabbing him in the process.

Whatever sound he makes in pain, he’s thankful for the pillow that muffles it to silence.

“Awe, is this still about earlier? A-Cheng, come on~ Forgive me~ You can’t leave your poor gege’s heart in pain!”

Woe is you, Wei-fucking-Wuxian.

“Ahem. Young Master Wei, if you could please vacate the Young Lord’s bed.”

Thank the fucking heavens, yes!

“Noooo~”

“I’m afraid I am not asking, Young Master Wei.”

With a groan pressed right next to Jiang Cheng’s ear, Wei Wuxian finally begrudgingly rolls off of him, although not completely out of the bed. Jiang Cheng raises the pillow a little to take a peek at the alpha still having the audacity to lay face down, chin propped on his palms, smirking.

“Mr. Gu, I seem to remember today is your meeting with that pretty and delicate omega I have been thinking of lately. How come you are still here?”

“Nice try, Young Master Wei, but it is you who I should be asking that. Little Master Sandu is coming by any moment now.”

Jiang Cheng listens, astonished, at the speed Wei Wuxian actually scrambles off the bed and out the door after a squeamish yelp.

Confirming that the gremlin is gone, he slowly untucks himself from his little cocoon to take a look at this Mr. Gu who somehow knows how to put that little shit away.

He hears the door close then footsteps nearing as he digs his lower half out of the sheets. When he finally gets to look at the tall, tall person looming over the bed, his jaw almost drops.

“Hello, Young Master Jiang,” says the man in black suit, bending forward in a respectful bow, a gloved hand posed to his middle, the other at his back, a handful of strands from his low ponytail spilling over his shoulders.

He has an impeccable posture that deigns to make Jiang Cheng feel ashamed when he stands back up, a small, placid smile, and a pair of deep, light brown eyes that stares so devotedly into his soul it embarrasses him.

Jiang Cheng is a man, but… damn, even a butler is this handsome?!

“Who are you?” Jiang Cheng splutters instead.

He almost regrets it, however, when said man’s expression falls.

And then he regrets it even more when, within a blink, the man or butler or Mr. Gu or whatever presses his knees on the ground, almost prostrating to a kowtow.

Jiang Cheng jumps up in alarm.

“Has this lowly one done something in offense?” the now weirdo number 2 asks in a deeper, trembling voice he sounds like he’s going to cry.

“No! Get the fuck up! Stop that!” Jiang Cheng rushes forward to hit that bowing head back to his senses. Only, he forgets that he is, in fact, on an elevated surface, and steps on air instead. “Shi—”

When he feels no impact whatsoever, he opens his eyes. He swallows a shout and presses his eyelids back together. The butler’s face is very, very worried and also very, very close.

Then he remembers he is no damsel so he opens his eyes again and holds the concerned gaze.

Actually—

How handsome.

So fucking handsome I want to punch.

With some effort, Jiang Cheng pushes that face away before he can really punch it and then scrambles to get off Weirdo 2’s lap.

He rushes to sit himself on the edge of the bed after his escape, trying to be as dignified as possible and hoping the butler pretends nothing happened, too.

Why is everyone so fucking pretty?

“So,” he clears his throat, “what do you want?”

Still kneeling, the butler calmly smooths his creased clothes. Then he clasps his gloved hands on his lap and raises his gaze. He asks heartbrokenly, “Is this your new way of asking me to make myself scarce?”

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and stands up to leave the room.

He does not, in fact, get to leave.

Instead, he finds himself sitting on the intricately-carved and golden-painted desk with a paper and—thankfully not a quill—a pen.

He’s trying to meditate, as Mr. Gu so politely corrected his lack of better word choices when he has called it “sniffing someone’s scent as if it’s incense like a fucking pervert,” for the sake of his sanity the next time he has to actually socialize and snort tons of other people’s scent.

He’s not sure why this Mr. Gu is allowed to scent acclimate him, however. He is sure he has read somewhere that it is most likely between intimate familiars.

Or is it really the fate of a villain to get even the crudest of services (in addition to getting a Wei Wuxian for an adoptive brother)?

It’s a pleasant scent, though.

No homo.

Mr. Gu smells like a concept rather than an actual scent: Picture entering the office on the top floor of a 100-leveled building in common people clothes where your sweat has dried because the whole building and even the elevator you rode in has air conditioner. The office smells like new leather, air conditioner, and an expensive air freshener, and you start to feel bad because you realize it’s the CEO’s office and you’re dirtying the clean air with your sweat. And then you suddenly feel smug again because hey, not everyone can enter this office, meaning you being here means you’re important, and—

Okay, it makes no sense, but that’s how it is. He’s not talking about the leather or the air conditioner, though. It’s more the scenario and how that would later smell like if you replay it from memory, and—

It’s hard to explain.  It’s—it’s just really fresh, if only a bit strange to think about.

It’s even more strange that Jiang Cheng soon realizes at some point that he’s not actually smelling the scents. It’s not the same as physically smelling perfume, or food, or farts. It’s more of a brain-thing. Again, it’s also hard to explain, but it’s probably easier to just say everyone has a sixth sense for this specific thing, and the scents are probably pheromones.

The strangest thing, however, is the fact that Jiang Cheng is overanalyzing pheromones when he has sat himself on this desk with a pen and a paper specifically to outline his situation because merely mapping them out in his brain is as good as writing on a shore only to have the salty, salty water erase everything in a single wave.

Wei Wuxian can probably achieve it, though. But not him.

(Speaking of Wei Wuxian, that little shit, he still hasn’t unsealed his scent even though he offered to help Jiang Cheng just a few hours prior. No, he is not curious, just wondering. Just wondering.)

So—

Jiang Cheng inhales, as discreetly as possible to not sound like a pervert getting high off the scent of the human incense standing so prettily by the side like a damned statue, and proceeds to write.

It’s nothing much, really.

Just a timeline of events.

Since everyone is two years younger, all the later plot in the book is destined to happen only two years later when the Solaire family—the Wen family, in this case—begin to operate more tyrannically.

Though a family like that is, of course, already doing shady things behind the scenes since probably before Jiang Wanyin is even born. They will simply get a bit too bold in a future which, unfortunately, contains people like Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji who will not tolerate their bullshit.

As for the political details behind the events, unfortunately, Jiang Cheng has never been politically-inclined in the first place that he skipped all paragraphs about it. (Ha. Ha. Try reading ten pages of nothing but the political dynamics of the world-building with an actual head-shattering migraine, no?)

Thank the heavens he has a Wuling-ge for a workmate who summarized everything with: “The King is yandere.”

Of course, he doesn’t know what that means. Of course, he has no one to ask now.

It hasn’t mattered before, so he has never bothered to ask. (Not to mention, A-Sang has never liked talking about the book details to “avoid spoilers.”) How is he to know he will, one day, need to know the meaning of such an ominous word?

How can he look that up in this era?

Jiang Cheng groans. “I need a phone.”

“Foam?” the human incense asks quizzically. “Whatever do you need it for, my Lord? Do you feel a strain on your back?”

“No.”

“Is it your waist? Are you feeling tired? Sore?”

“Not really.”

“Then is it your backside?”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he asks: “Do we have any recent history book?”

Mr. Gu lowers his head. “Certainly, my Lord.”

He leaves and returns in a span of a few seconds that Jiang Cheng’s jaw almost drops. And then his jaw really drops when he opens the seemingly newly-bound thick history books and reads the first sentence.

               In today’s 21^st century notable events…

21^st century and still no phones?! What kind of alternate dimension is this???

Jiang Cheng plants his palm on his face to stop the twitching.

How very creative, A-Sang. How very creative.

Midway his crisis, a light bulb forms in his head. And then he breaks said bulb with his own hands. All in his head, of course.

Forget it. He can’t even pretend to invent any revolutionary paper. How is he going to invent phones?

Jiang Cheng sighs. This is hopeless.

Usually in stories like this, the transmigrated character either has a golden finger or a golden thigh. Yet his only golden finger of knowing the future remains half-baked because fate can’t be bothered to wait for A-Sang to finish book two before deciding Jiang Cheng has to die by slipping on ice.

As for the golden thigh… Need he even say it?

Not to mention the storyline that will soon break Jiang Wanyin’s and Wei Wuxian’s bond, this little shit of an alpha is simply too unreliable for a golden thigh. He can’t even stand with his beloved “ChengCheng” when facing the Duchess.

Oh, should he also mention the over-powered supposedly genius main character is terrified of dogs?

Wait—

Jiang Cheng perks up.

“Is it possible to get a dog?”

Mr. Gu tilts his head. “Don’t you already have Little Master Sandu?”

Jiang Cheng blinks.

“I have a dog?” The butler looks at him funnily, to which he responds with an arched brow.

Come on. Who is kidding the book?

He remembers Wei Wuxian having supposedly been scouted by the Duke and brought into the Jiang mansion when he’s nine or ten. Due to his former life as a street rat, he developed an intense fear of dogs. So Jiang Wanyin, who has had 3 dogs then, gives them up for the sake of his now-brother.

There has never been a mention that Jiang Wanyin has another dog after that? Not that the Duke will even allow it, seeing as he favors the son of his past love much more than his own son.

“Didn’t Young Master Wei come to you while you were away to tell you the good news about Little Master Sandu?”

“No, he did not,” Jiang Cheng denies with a roll of his eyes. That pervert has climbed on to his bed like a pervert and later buzz around him like a pesky fly, did he not? And not once has he said anything that made sense. “He came to annoy me, thank you very much.”

Mr. Gu hums. “Well, after coming home from the Knighthood Academia, Young Master Wei claims to have found the descendants of the three dog you took care of before. After much convincing, His Grace, the Duke, personally went to see them and came back home with Little Master Sandu.”

Thunder booms. Lightning strikes.

Jokes aside, what the fuck? When has such a detail happened in the book?

Does that mean another dog will have to die???

Jiang Cheng feels another oncoming headache at the thought.

“Get me the dog, then,” he demands, waving away the butler.

The butler complies immediately, leaving Jiang Cheng slumped on the table.

There is no dog in the story. So this Little Master Sandu, who is probably a good boy because all dogs are good boys and good girls, must have died sometime before the plot starts.

(When he returns to his world, he will buy one million hand-painted fans for A-Sang, and then he will buy himself a dog to maul all those fans into pieces.)

It could even be one of the reasons Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian will soon have a fallout. Very understandable.

(Perhaps this is the only time Jiang Cheng can truly understand Jiang Wanyin. Who doesn’t want to become a villain for a dog??)

So Jiang Cheng writes that detail down.

As for the other reasons, he really has no idea. It has never been mentioned how those two had a falling out. The story has simply started with introducing Jiang Wanyin as this hot-tempered character, son of the Duke, Jiang Fengmian, who antagonizes Wei Wuxian’s actions at every turn.

It is only through a painfully dramatic confrontation between the brothers that Jiang Wanyin mentions they used to be close, but that Wei Wuxian changed and went on to choose and believe other people rather than his own brother.

Ironic, considering Jiang Wanyin has also never listened whenever Wei Wuxian tries to talk to him. He is awfully quick to assume the main character is going to do something to him whenever Wei Wuxian as much as opens his mouth in Jiang Wanyin’s direction.

It’s how he manages to always make a fool out of himself. He spouts lots of accusation and basically starts a one-sided argument with Wei Wuxian before Wei Wuxian’s knight-in-shining-armor, Lan Wangji, comes to the rescue and shut the little brat up.

He shudders to even think of being at the receiving end of Lan Wangji’s ire, because for all the perfection his character is painted with, he can be the absolute little shit—more than Wei Wuxian—if he wants to.

That Lan boy’s tongue is vicious.

You know, he thinks. Running away from all this might be the best option.

He can renounce his rights to the dukedom, run to the country side, and live a peasant but peaceful life. Who cares about politics? Who cares about the war? Dump all those to Wei Wuxian. He’s the main character; he carries the protagonist halo and plot armor. He’ll manage.

Besides, not having a villain for a brother will make things easier for him.

Though firstly, he needs to earn money. Ah, no. First, he needs to grow his muscles. It’s easier to find jobs when you have muscles in this era. Save up money second, secretly. He’ll need that for a start-up or he might end up a street rat instead.

Knock. Knock.

Jiang Cheng startles, crumpling the paper he’s writing on in the process. Cursing, he puts them all away before standing to open the door.

Then, he hesitates.

It… feels ominous somehow.

Due to his stalling, the door opens on its own with a click. He takes his hand back from the door handle as if burned and is forced to step back.

“A-Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng relaxes.

No one else has been described in the book to have a pair of moss green eyes and call Jiang Wanyin so gently aside from the Jiang family’s one and only Eldest Miss, Jiang Yanli.

“Sister,” Jiang Cheng replies with a smile, stepping aside.

She returns the smile, a gentle, radiant thing he wishes, for a moment, to freeze and preserve. She passes him by, the ribbons on her hair and dress brushing against him. Something sweet follows the air she stirs. Lavender. Except it’s perfume.

And still it stirs something from his memories—something he can’t quite grasp. Something. Something. Things that soon slip away as quickly as they flash in his mind.

His attention shifts when he notices the flowing hem of her lilac dress is trailed after by a very distinguished little young master in black and white coat.

Disregarding the book’s most beloved older sister for a moment, he immediately scoops the little puppy up into his arms. He also ignores the charmingly soft giggle from the side and goes on to put his Little Sandu on his precious covers where he sits like a proper young master with a bowtie on his neck.

“As expected of our A-Cheng,” says the soft voice. “You have not lost a bit of your enthusiasm for dogs.”

Jiang Cheng grins amidst the tuff of fur brushing under his nose as the fairly well-behaved puppy noses at him curiously.

He grabs the pup again and sits on the bed this time. Then he finally turns to glance at his guest. Properly.

She stands by the window, crinkle-eyed from a delighted smile on her lilac-tinted lips and mild-mannered yet somehow expressing more than Wei Wuxian’s wide grin with a single tilt of her head.

When she notices him looking, she giggles further into her sleeve, the sliver of the sun-lit green of her doe eyes fully disappearing into lash-framed crescents.

Jiang Cheng feels something in him soften.

They say Jiang Yanli is not the most beautiful, but who’s to say they are the judge of that?

Jiang Cheng begs to differ. Jiang Wanyin would have fought to differ.

They haven’t seen her in joy. They haven’t tried to see her in joy.

Fiddling with the pup’s droopy ears, Jiang Cheng asks, “How old is he?”

“Seven weeks, I was told,” she replies, bright smile softening but never dimming.

She takes small steps forward, each movement sending her hair and sleeves fluttering behind her. She sits herself just beside Jiang Cheng, and he tries not to flinch when she raises a hand to smooth out his hair (which is very long he’s starting to really dislike it).

“S-Seven weeks?” he sputters, more so at Jiang Yanli’s affectionate gesture rather than at the age of his puppy, even if he’s genuinely surprised.

Jiang Yanli hums. “This little one is a child of your Little Love. Do you remember she is a mix of a medium breed and a large breed? It seems Little Sandu has taken after the larger part of her, as well has of his father, who is of a larger breed as well.”

He has no idea what breed those three dogs are, but Little Sandu looks something like a Mastiff, though more slender.

Who cares, he thinks as he watches the little pup stare back at him, head tilted.

He’s going to protect this good boy from now on, either way.

“How are you, A-Cheng?”

“Hmn?” Jiang Cheng hums in return, distracted when Little Sandu begins to lick tentatively at the hand he offers. “Of course, I’m fine, Sister. How are you?”

She doesn’t answer.

He raises his head when the silence stretches a little too long. Then his heart drops when he faces her teary expression.

“W—Why? What happened? What—”

Though a bit sorry, he puts the little puppy down in favor of scooting closer to her sister. He raises a hand, hesitating for a bit, before eventually settling on patting her hand.

“Well. Erm,” he clears his throat. “I don’t know what made you cry all of a sudden, but—”

“Oh, A-Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng startles when she places a hand on his cheek, still crying, though thankfully silent or he might pass out in shock.

His other co-worker, the kid A-Qing, can cry rivers of tears for all he cares, but this is the book’s greatest and most precious sister!

His heart does not feel good looking at her tears.

(How dare that Jin family’s heir, Jin Zixuan, make her cry! There will be such a scene in the future and it has driven him mad, but witnessing it in real life might actually just make him more angry he will buy A-Sang a million more hand-painted fans and then snap them all one by one for him to hear properly.)

“I’m sorry. Big sister is very sorry.”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitches, the hand patting Jiang Yanli’s hand freezing. “What… what are you saying? What’s the sorry for? You didn’t do anything!”

Of course, she hasn’t! How could she have anything to be sorry for?

Yet Jiang Yanli only gives him a melancholic smile.

Before he knows it, gentle arms wrap around his shoulders until he’s surrounded by—he finally recognizes—the faint smell of lavender.

He ignores the skip of his heart beat, the consequent pinch somewhere in his chest, as well as the vague feel of familiarity and unfamiliarity.

Instead, he focuses on a more important detail.

Fuck. Even a girl is taller than me!

The Jiang mansion’s inner garden overflows with, surprisingly, a variety of flora aside from just lotuses, as the book often likes to emphasize and even over-describe when A-Sang probably feels like he has nothing else to fill the word-count with.

Who knows.

That aside, there are rows and rows of flowering shrubs it hasn’t taken a few minutes for his little barking companion to have himself swallowed within the denseness.

“You know,” Jiang Cheng tells his other remaining companion. “The garden is quite large. Why don’t you explore that way while I explore this way?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

Jiang Cheng sighs.

He continues walking around, his enthusiasm dying out at the loss of his little Sandu and at the clinginess of this… this fucking tail.

“Do you really have to follow me?”

“It is my job.”

“Isn’t it also your job to listen to your master’s orders?”

“Unconditionally, with all our lives.”

“Then I order you to stop following me.”

“But—”

“Not so unconditional now when it’s with a ‘but,’ isn’t it?”

Mr. Gu, or Gu Xiyang as Jiang Cheng finds out, bows. “Forgive me. However, I—”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s your job. It’s for my safety. Fine. I know. You said that at least ten times now.” Jiang Cheng absentmindedly reaches up to his hair, the urge to ruffle it up overtaking him for a moment until he remembers Jiang Yanli spending a lot of time to fix it. Vexed, he balls said hand into a fist and hides it in a cross-arm, huffing out. “But you know, I have been wondering. I’m pretty sure the Du—mother should be calling me for, I don’t know, work? You know how she is. It’s strange that I’m practically slacking right now.”

If he’s correct about his assumption, however.

It’s not a stretch to assume Jiang Wanyin at this age should already be handling a few office work or something.

“Young Lord is right,” Gu Xiyang replies behind him. “However, both the Duke and Duchess have taken a lot of each other’s time lately. It has been that way since a week ago.”

“Huh? Really? Is there anything serious going on that they would fight so much like that?”

“Actually, it seems to me more as though they are… trying to get along.”

Jiang Cheng laughs, steps halting when they pass by a row of red roses. He spots a bush of black roses.

“That’s crazy,” he replies to Gu Xiyang first because there is no way those two would ever get along, before he leans down to inspect the bush of black roses.

They’re not really black but more a very dark red they appear black from a distance. Still, he reaches out. Except—

He’s disappointed when he moves the stem aside to see that they’re cut from their roots and are simply sitting on a vase of dyed water.

Wow, Jiang Cheng thinks. What a cruel betrayal.

No matter how you think about it, A-Sang has already made everyone have secondary gender, have this scent thing, bypass historical accuracy, yet roses can’t be black?!

“It can be put that way, yes. It is uncommon a sight to see His Grace personally bringing flowers to the Duchess’ room every single morning. Usually, such a thing happens when apologies are required and His Grace does not have the courage to say them outright. Even then, he usually brings in other gifts and through the servants, too.”

 Jiang Cheng snaps his head up to the butler, the action disrupted when he feels a prick on his finger. He flinches at the sensation, drawing his hand back and clicking his tongue when he sees a bead of blood threatening to spill.

He shakes it off with an irritated huff. Then his hand is seized, the distinct fresh scent of Gu Xiyang coming a bit stronger at their proximity.

“You ought to be more careful, my Lord,” the butler mutters lowly, long fingers somehow in possession of a white cloth. He dabs said cloth on to the petty wound and looks into Jiang Cheng’s eyes as he adds, “Lest I be mauled to death by the masters.”

Jiang Cheng is momentarily stunned until he remembers himself. Immediately, he pushes the other away with a scowl.

“It’s your fault. You startled me with that information. What do you mean the Duke and Duchess are acting like they’re in a courtship?”

That is really strange. And disappointing.

If that’s even true, it’s a shame it will not last, given how rocky they will become two years later. In fact, they will die without reconciling.

“It was the Young Miss,” Gu Xiyang replies, folding the bloodied white handkerchief neatly before carefully putting it back in his inner coat pocket. “I did not witness it personally, but the Young Miss seemed to have spoken with Her Grace, as did Young Master Wei with His Grace. To my knowledge, the Young Miss planned these talks. After which, both the Duke and Duchess since began their own long-overdue…  discussion.”

“Is that so…”

Well.

It’s not surprising for Jiang Yanli to take on the role of a mediator. A shame even she is not enough to keep Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian’s brotherhood from breaking apart. Though to the brothers’ credits, they have always tried to at least ignore each other when she’s present.

Someone like her deserves that level of respect, at least.

Unlike her peacock of a fiancé—well, ex-fiance today but fiancé again three years later. The oncoming war will renew what Wei Wuxian has apparently broken. When and where, the book hasn’t really mentioned, simply that the main character plays his role as a main character and goes on to punch the heir to a dukedom some time ago and manages to get away with it, the consequences to his actions still somehow more favorable than an actual screw-up.

Talk about protagonist halo.

It has probably happened a year or two ago? There’s a detail somewhere in the book that Wei Wuxian meets Lan Wangji for the first time at age 15, as well as other supporting characters in the academy built by the Lan family, another ducal family. All heirs and other nobility children apparently attend said academy. It would have been the only chance for Wei Wuxian to land a punch on a heavily-guarded pampered young master from the Jin family.

“I’m getting a headache.” Jiang Cheng cradles his head. “Memorizing book details and connecting them to something more coherent is harder than I thought.”

“Should we go back inside? You always like to read advanced books even the Duke and Duchess don’t touch. Not even Young Master Wei. This lowly one has always reminded you not to overdo it.”

“I’m not talking about that” is what Jiang Cheng wants to say but instead settles with:

“I did not ask for your opinion. Who cares what Wei Wuxian reads?”

“My apologies.”

Having been a third-party witness to all of the Jiang family’s dinner table (which is a handful, really, because their scenes appear in flashbacks, because again, they are dead when the plot commences), Jiang Cheng likes to think he’s ready for it when it comes.

He’s not.

With a Jiang Yanli present whose patience exceeds even that of a saint, Wei Wuxian has barely shot Jiang Cheng any perverted words. No. His supposed adoptive older brother is flirting with his own adoptive older sister like a 3-year-old to be spoon-fed.

Jiang Cheng can never have guessed the shamelessness of the main character reaches even this kind of level. His shamelessness in the book has been tolerable at least, because they are for a good cause.

This thing though is—

How utterly abominable.

Jiang Wanyin’s parents are not even looking at them.

The two are—Jiang Cheng shudders at the thought—shooting each other heart eyes. They have their own worlds. The Duchess hasn’t even looked to Jiang Cheng’s direction since entering. Gu Xiyang has not been lying when he says they’re trying their best to get along. They’ve managed to get along so well they’ve gone and fallen in love.

Ew.

Ew.

Okay. Maybe he’s exaggerating.

The Duke and Duchess are still obviously at the talking stage: tentative, uncertain, and a tad bit shy. There’s still an air of distance between them, and their discussion is something about politics that Jiang Cheng is not going to try and understand, but anyone can see the way the other would occasionally shoot the other a soft gaze when they think the other is not looking.

Yes. Yes, the other is not looking—but Jiang Cheng is!

He’s looking at all these flirtatious scenes of his family members, and it’s more dreadful than a cold family dinner!

It’s a small mercy they still settle on masking their scents or he would have been choking on honeyed air. (He has recently found out that scents can smell a little different depending on the person’s mood.)

Jiang Cheng silently shoves a piece of meat in his mouth before catching a small black and white from his periphery.

He turns his head.

“Oh,” he feigns a gasp. “Little Sandu needs me. I shall excuse myself. Good night.”

He rushes outside without looking.

He follows the loose puppy all the way to the inner garden and finds it prowling at the grass. The little thing has been fed and has taken his nap so he’s naturally more energetic.

Jiang Cheng runs after it and almost dives to the grass as he lays just beside the puppy. Almost immediately, Sandu turns to him and climbs to chest, little tail wagging. Jiang Cheng chuckles as he cups the pup’s head just enough to still him for a moment.

“You,” he coos, “are the best boy~ Who’s the best boy? You are! Yes, you are!”

Sandu barks in reply so adorably Jiang Cheng almost wants to squeeze this little thing to death.

“You’re such a baby, aren’t you? Such a squeakish bark you have! But when you grow, you’ll be the baddest boy, won’t you? Won’t you?” Jiang Cheng giggles when the little pup barks yet again. He adds mischievously, “Because you will protect me from perverts like that little shit, will you? My goodest boy~”

“Ahem.”

Jiang Cheng immediately scrambles to stand, scowling in an attempt to hide the oncoming blush he feels across his face. Still, he’s mindful of his good boy as he carries him securely to his chest.

Then he turns to look at this insolent person who dares dis—

“D-Duke!” he squeaks in surprise. —And Gu Xiyang.

But who cares about that weirdo?

More importantly, why is the Duke here and why did he have to see Jiang Cheng cooing at his good boy and cause a significant loss in his self-esteem??

(On another hand, lessening his value even more makes it easier to run away. Hah!)

“Excuse me, my Lord, but I will be taking Little Master Sandu for his nightly grooming.”

Jiang Cheng does not pout when he’s forced to hand his boy over. He also does not stare longingly at Gu Xiyang’s back as the weirdo of a butler carries his boy away.

Then he ignores the fight-or-flight instinct in him at the thought of being left alone with such an awkward person like Jiang Fengmian.

“A-Cheng.”

“Yes!?” Jiang Cheng glances to the Duke and is surprised to find him seated on the grass.

This man always presents a fairly noble picture with his princely (duke-ly?) costume every day that he looks out of sorts sitting unceremoniously on some grass.

The Duke pats the space next to him. Jiang Cheng’s body is too stiff to immediately follow. Only the Duke’s gentle smile which Jiang Yanli has inherited soothes him enough to settle on the grass a few distance from the other.

Really, Jiang Cheng could have benefitted from a memory or two of Jiang Wanyin’s. Don’t most transmigration stories have that sort of feature?

He needs to know what sort of failure Jiang Wanyin has done to require a one-on-one talk with the Duke!

“Son…”

Jiang Cheng sits more rigidly to brace himself.

“I owe you an overdue apology.”

“…”

Jiang Cheng is ready to stand and leave.

Ha-ha. No. He doesn’t really have the guts for that.

“I watch you for years try your hardest. You’ve worked really hard, even through your weakest days. I did notice them all.”

“So you do notice.” Where is this conversation even going?

He does notice Jiang Wanyin, after all. How come that bastard knows nothing but victimize himself? His villain arc is simply a pity-party.

“I know—” Jiang Fengmian’s tone rises a little that Jiang Cheng has to look. He regrets it when he sees remorse. Er. He just blurted out something rude, did he not?

Jiang Fengmian sighs and turns away from Jiang Cheng to gaze up at an empty sky. “I haven’t been fair. Well, I thought I was being fair. It’s just that the way I know how seemed to be working in shaping you to inherit the title. You were working hard. You were trying your best. I just didn’t realize it doesn’t have to be that way. I didn’t realize there are other ways.”

Jiang Cheng shuffles in his place. He’s not used to these talks. Good heavens.

He waves his hand, putting a face of nonchalance to balance the awkwardness he’s feeling. “No. No, I understand. Really. I’m the heir, so you’re stricter. Wei Wuxian isn’t so he’s given more leeway.”

Lies. Total lies. It’s obviously not just about that. But Jiang Cheng couldn’t care less about favoritism. Since Jiang Fengmian notices Jiang Wanyin’s efforts, that should already be enough.

Right?

Surprisingly, Jiang Fengmian laughs, a touch of sad, a tad bit dark.  

“Son, your mother and I… Our relationship is complicated. I’m afraid it blinded my perception all these years. Nothing of it is your fault, A-Cheng. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was us who didn’t do things right.” His father smiles, a bit brighter this time, and Jiang Cheng is glad for the lighter atmosphere. Much like Jiang Yanli, happiness suits the Duke better. “I am proud of you, however. For all the things you have done and still do. And for, simply, you.”

To Jiang Cheng’s chagrin, the Duke reaches out to pat his shoulders.

He tries to hide a grimace.

Yes. Yes. You’re proud. Jiang Wanyin is happy. Probably. It doesn’t mean you should freely touch people!

Jiang Cheng is all too happy to finally have his privacy during bedtime.

Of course, he has had a bit of a hard time shaking off the world’s clingiest little shit called Wei Wuxian who has promised to only say goodnight only to pinch his face everywhere. Fortunately, the Duchess has called for him, or he would have forced Gu Xiyang to wake Little Sandu up.

Within the confines of his walls, he brings his outlines out, smooths the crumples pages, and lines them one by one.

Then he reviews his plans again. His very impulsive and undetailed plans.

Grow muscles.

Planning and doing are very different things.

Thus, the next morning, he asks the person who knows how to survive any death situation best:

“Gege, teach me how to fight.”

Although Wei Wuxian is grinning so widely his face looks like it might split, he replies resolutely:

“Why learn to fight when you have ‘gege’?” Then he declares rather arrogantly, “I will be the next Knight Captain! I, alone, is enough to keep you safe!”

The main character is a hopeless case, so he goes complaining to his sister who can make Wei Wuxian do anything:

“Big sister, Wei Wuxian is refusing my request!”

“Hmn?” Jiang Yanli tilts her head gracefully. “How come? Doesn’t A-Xian always do whatever you ask for? Try it again.”

“Xian-gege! Can you bring this snack to Little Sandu?”

Indeed, despite paling so much Jiang Cheng actually worries and feels guilty, Wei Wuxian still does as he’s told.

But then—

“Can you teach me basic self defense?”

Wei Wuxian responds with a grin and a pinch on his cheeks.

Jiang Yanli smiles helplessly.

Jiang Cheng approaches the current Knight Captain next, but he’s immediately dismissed with a series of head pats from all the other knights.

Gu Xiyang later tells him: “Please understand, my Lord. No one would dare harm the heir.”

So he goes to his father.

Yet Jiang Fengmian tells him with a gentle, gentle smile, “We can’t risk you getting hurt, A-Cheng.”

When he turns to his mother, she raises an eyebrow.

“Your father has already spoken.”

Jiang Cheng wants to scream.

Lies! Lies!

Who in the kingdom doesn’t know Yu Ziyuan holds more power than her husband?!

The sound of the door opening fills the nightly silence.

The door opens to a void. Nothing but a single shadow standing out until the warm light from the room spills out into the darkness as the creak from the door stretches.

Yu Ziyuan looks up from a lengthy missive to the person standing by the door way, posture straight but hesitant in taking more than a step inside.

She gives the person a nod, sharp eyes momentarily softened by the flickering orange glow of the candlelights.

“Your Grace,” Wei Wuxian greets from the distance, bowing, before proceeding forward.

“Have a seat,” she orders the boy as she arranges her desk.

She takes her time so. Scrolls from the Royal Court are rolled carefully one-by-one and then set to a designated drawer. Then the letters from peerages are folded neatly to the side. Lastly, she picks up the pen and then a cloth.

She sees the boy tremble in his seat, not from fear but out of the sheer inability to sit still. However, she’s still yet to speak.

Instead, she wipes the pen free of ink, movement leisurely and more obviously, this time, purposefully slow.

Wei Wuxian has always been careful with his scent. Even now, he hasn’t unsealed them, though whether it’s for her son or for something else, it’s not a detail she’s inclined to appreciate. She still smells his unease, after all.

Finally, when the boy looks about near to jump, she puts down the pen and places away the ink-stained cloth.

She gazes into the awaiting pair of silvers and suppresses a smirk at the barely swallowed squeal from the boy.

“Wuxian,” she addresses him. Of course, he sits straighter. She’s aware her tone of voice has always carried a measure of command, of power, that even her own son, who supposedly takes after her temperament, startles at like an alarmed fawn in the wild.

And for years, hasn’t she paid for it? Been torn over it between resolution and guilt?

Yet this is not her son. It’s the son of the woman whom her husband has loved so dearly.

(And still it feels tearing all the same, no?)

“How did your training go?”

The boy pauses, expression open and easy to read, but one thing about him is his fickleness. He’s quick to change into something more serious as if he’s never been rattled in the first place.

Unfortunately, her own son isn’t much better in this regard. A-Cheng has always been so much more open and so much more candid with his frustrations it’s his greatest weakness.

“Very well, Your Grace,” replies Wei Wuxian like knight reporting to his captain. “In a months’ time, this one will finally be knighted. This one will immediately compete for the Captain position afterward.”

Yu Ziyuan can’t help the scoff that comes out from within deep-rooted, years-long one-sided enmity between her and a dead woman.

“One year in the Knighthood Academia and you have not learned to temper that arrogance.”

Yet she understands this bitterness is aimed more at the fact that this boy’s arrogance is not baseless. Never baseless. He’s confident. And when he is, he needs no spared effort to make it happen.

He’s born a golden child, this one, and she hates that he has to stand so close with her son who so obviously pales in comparison.

Of course, her own A-Cheng is nothing short of skilled. He is quite skilled, more than many, and more than enough to perhaps make another parent proud, but it’s nothing comparable when next to him is a shining beacon of light.

No one can match up to something like that.

And it grates her even more than the tipped scale she and Cangse Sanren have over Jiang Fengmian.

Because yet again, it still weighs in a dead woman’s favor. Yet again, it’s Cangse Sanren’s win. Whether it’s Jiang Fengmian’s heart, the gender of their sons, the abilities of their sons, the happiness of their lived lives— It’s always that woman’s.

But whose fault is it that A-Cheng is unable to match up? That she is unable to match up?

Well.

Yu Ziyuan might be an angry woman, but it doesn’t mean she’s not rational.

“But,” she continues when the boy begins to struggle with a reply, “do your best.”

It’s not this boy’s fault he’s born to do great things.

“As you said, it is your greatest honor to keep A-Cheng safe.”

Wei Wuxian raises his head, and for a while, she sees none of the rowdy, mischievous, problematic boy.

There is only a boy.

She dismisses him and stands as soon as he closes the door. Then she looks outside the window, her tired reflection staring back at her.

There are things she needs to work on.

It is, perhaps, high time to visit a temple.

Chapter Text

They call it the Nightless City—the castle, not the capital.

It stands at the heart of the capital they call Qishan, justifiably majestic with high ivory walls and tall pointy towers. It looks deceptively as large as the Jiang mansion, but Jiang Cheng has read enough of the description to know that the Wen’s castle is not, in fact, just one big castle. Their home spans thrice as wide as the whole Jiang manor if you enter the back, with a far greater palace, separate mansions, and towers of varying sizes all owned and fortressed within the walls of the royal family.

It’s not named a “city” for nothing.

The frontal castle is only a great hall for all guests. It’s about how far the Wens are willing to let anyone in. No one has supposedly set afoot past the castle aside from those with the blood of the undying sun. But perhaps it’s an exaggeration. Perhaps a few non-Wen have managed to sneak a glimpse but that it’s a very, very rare occasion no one can barely remember if it even happens. For example, the way Yu Ziyuan describes the east wing of the back palace with familiarity hints something else entirely, but that is one among the many things about this situation that Jiang Cheng is not willing to unpack.

What does it anything matter if he’s going to leave this wretched kingdom soon anyway?

May the kingdom burn and the plot be out of his way.

“So remember that, A-Cheng,” Yu Ziyuan continues as she fusses over his collar for the nth time. It’s not like it’s messy or something. Jiang Cheng recognizes it more a habit of apprehension rather than actually trying to make her son presentable. He is already presentable—more than, even—for that matter. “I know you are familiar with the castle, but this is the first time you will be entering the palace with me. You may not stray, even if that useless Wei Ying thinks running around is a good idea.”

“Rest assured, mother. I am—”

“You are not like him, indeed.” The Duchess gives him a pointed look. “And yet you are also not immune to his influences. Do you really think I have not known of the times you covered for his mischiefs? You let him drag you everywhere and still be willing to kneel beside him.”

Jiang Cheng shifts uncomfortably on his seat.

He remembers nothing of such. Then again, he’s not Jiang Wanyin. It does seem more tragic now to think that this is how deep Jiang Wanyin’s brotherhood is with his adoptive brother. What in the heavens happened?

Oh, whatever.

“Before that, be on Gu Xiyang’s sight at all times. Do not give me that look. It is not for you but for Wei Ying,” Yu Ziyuan chastises, but Jiang Cheng is finding trouble erasing his expression of distaste, because if he has to choose between the sane but strict butler and the less-sane but more carefree main character, he might as well go with Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Cheng does not need Gu Xiyang breathing down his neck. Seriously. That man never loses focus, whereas, Wei Wuxian is easily distracted enough for Jiang Cheng to have some breathing space.

“Although it perplexes me that you are distancing yourself from him.”

“Excuse me— I mean, whatever do you mean, mother?”

The Duchess raises an eyebrow, the expression somehow more heart-stopping than any of her frowns.

“Need I mention the many times I lost face for your spoiled attitude towards your own servant?”

Jiang Cheng flinches. Not at her remark but at the subsequent echo of a distant voice: “Yang-ge!” He has the impulse to look around for the source for a second until he realizes it’s an auditory memory that sounds vaguely like him if he’s elementary-level young.

What the fuck?

Yang-ge?

Wow. Jiang Wanyin, I did not know you’re this sissy.

What? Did he also call Wei Wuxian “gege” before?

“It was bad enough you always referred to Wei Ying as such and only stopped over a year ago. I suppose it is good you’re growing past your reliance on Gu Xiyang too, though I would have been happier if it happened much earlier. Honestly. You are born to command, A-Cheng, omega or not. Sometime or later, you will have to start addressing your subjects properly.”

Yes. Yes, indeed, he did, Jiang Cheng thinks while the Duchess continues her tirade—and she’s well within her rights to do so. He gives himself a second or two more to thoroughly think that information through and subsequently curses: Damn!

Jiang Wanyin called everyone gege once upon a time?

This second-tier villain would have been eligible for the didi-sympathizers if only his background details have been more fleshed-out than the sticks and bones the readers have been invited to chew on only to curse and leave with a one-star review because only a dog is happy about bones.

It’s the same way the King has daddy-apologizers despite being the ultimate villain, though this one is another story because daddy-obsessed fans do not need a backstory. (Jiang Cheng deigns to understand what’s so sexy about a tyrant smirking down at you from above his throne.)

At some point, Jiang Cheng realizes the Duchess has since stopped talking. She’s watching him instead, violet eyes striking against the backdrop of a verdant field outside the carriage window. (Yes. He is in a carriage with her. Yes. He has tried to ask to ride on a horse much like the Duke and Wei Wuxian. Yes. Every single one of them have refused him.)

She’s not smiling, her red-painted lips pressed in a soft line. Her eyes remain sharp, something that he now knows is a natural feature of a formidable woman like her, but the light in them is not nearly as violent nor as dull as how she usually wears them.

She’s looking at him with something that’s not quite soft. But, Jiang Cheng thinks quietly in his mind, it’s close enough.

“If you cannot bother to listen to me correct you, then—” she admonishes him, though her tone is significantly less harsh. Not that Jiang Cheng thinks it’s very harsh to begin with. “Get some rest. It is still a long way ahead.”

Somewhere at the back of Jiang Cheng’s mind, he’s chuckling dryly.

If he has had a mother, he can imagine she would be just like her.

He wakes up to warmth around him and the pleasant scent of something minty and earthy that he burrows himself deeper into… into—

A breath fanning over the side of his face startles him awake.

He’s still inside the carriage, but to his mortification, he’s curled up against someone. That someone is Wei Wuxian whose arms have found their way around Jiang Cheng’s back and torso.

Thankfully, the alpha doesn’t even stir awake from his movements. He’s sleeping so peacefully, in fact, that he has unknowingly released his scent that smells annoyingly like—like nature.

Lan Wangji always thought Wei Wuxian smelled like the sun: sundried laundries, sunlit meadows, or the summer breeze. And he does. And it ought to be warm much like the heart he tries to hide between his cheerful smiles. Except, when his skin grazes the other’s sun-kissed skin, he realizes there’s something else underneath. There’s something minty and herby, and when he steps just a little more, just a few centimeters closer, he smells fresh-cut grass and petrichor. Nature. Wei Wuxian smells like nature.

And isn’t it fitting?

Isn’t he just the person who would smell just like someone who sleeps atop green hills in the high noons, or on low-hanging branches until the eve? Isn’t he the one who swims on every lake and river he sees only to rise with frogs and fishes flopping between his hands just because he can? Isn’t he—

Okay. That stops there.

Annoyingly, Lan Wangji’s description is awfully accurate and not just some fancy words to embellish the person he loves.

Ugh.

It’s not like it smells that good. It’s not like Jiang Cheng is enjoying it even if he’s breathing deeply than normal. He’s just trying to familiarize himself, okay?!

Why is Wei Wuxian here anyway? Where is the Duchess?

Huffing with some regret, he extracts himself carefully off to the side where he tries to smooth down his clothes lest Yu Ziyuan gives him another proper chastising about his appearance.

He peeks out the carriage window to endless fields that seem to stretch forever. It’s so unlike the Jiang manor where there are at least bushes. He stretches his neck further to finally see his parents just ahead the carriage, dignified backs seated on a pair of horses trotting side by side as they converse quietly.

But more importantly, he finally sees signs of Qishan ahead. He watches in awe as they enter and pass a draw bridge into the bustling capital.

Except—

Jiang Cheng groans as he cringes within himself when he’s hit with the mixed smell of pheromones. It’s not nearly as bad as it has been, but it’s still overwhelming to a degree.

It might get him a few weeks to get used to this.

Still, he braves through the scent if only to take a good look at the surroundings as they move further. Rather than the imagined stalls and street-vendors along the side of the roads, there are gray limestone-walled buildings instead. Jiang Cheng is not even surprised anymore to note that they have stained glass for windows and intricately-patterned screen panels for dividers.

There are a few wooden buildings to make-up the usual medieval aesthetic, but the majority of the surroundings really does scream the glamour zone of this era. And it captivates him all the same.

Quite a number of people are walking around, many of them looking over their direction that Jiang Cheng can’t help but smile awkwardly whenever he makes eye-contact with them. They’re quick to avoid him—probably recognizing him as the bad-tempered Jiang heir—but he disregards the reactions in favor of ogling at the buildings and whatever they’re selling inside.

He can’t help it. This is the first civilization he’s going to see because he hasn’t really been able to visit the Jiang duchy’s territories. He hasn’t even left the Jiang manor for that matter.

Though his sight-seeing is interrupted when another carriage with an unfamiliar flower-like crest passes by so close that it blocks his view. He frowns but waits patiently as it passes and turns to a corner.

“Young Lord.”

Then suddenly, Gu Xiyang’s face appears right in front of the window, startling Jiang Cheng enough to squeak and fall off his seat.

Wei Wuxian stops snoring abruptly, beady eyes flying open as he shouts: “Who dares fight me?!”

“What the hell?!” Jiang Cheng shouts at the butler, flaring when all he’s given is a small smile that borders between mirthful and becoming a smirk.

“Please excuse me,” says the butler lowly before drawing the curtains to a close and retreating like a ghost that Wei Wuxian hasn’t even noticed him.

“Why are you on the floor?” Wei Wuxian, this little shit, has the audacity to laugh. “You look very much like a ruffled kitten.”

“I am not,” Jiang Cheng scoffs, annoyed, and realizes the earthy, nature-y scent is sealed yet again that he’s even more annoyed.

“Seriously. Why did you fall?” Wei Wuxian asks again after long minutes of nothing but his laughter, more sober but still very much amused as he reaches out to help the omega up.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t reply to him until they’ve finally arrived.

As soon as the carriage stops, Jiang Cheng rushes to get out just to avoid further teasing from the stupid, hateful main character.

Though before he can even take more than five steps to look at his surroundings, he’s seized by a pair of gloved hands.

“Oh dear.” It’s Gu Xiyang who clicks his tongue in disapproval, light brown eyes flitting over Jiang Cheng’s face.

Much to Jiang Cheng’s impatience, the butler begins to fuss over his appearance. Jiang Cheng tries to curb his annoyance for a while, but when it goes on for too long, he bats the fussing hands off of his hair.

It’s then he finally takes the pleasure of looking around.

They have, indeed, arrived, the castle surprisingly only a few kilometers near the capital’s town. In fact, they have entered past the gates and have already parked by the designated spaces just below the entrance. Jiang Cheng sees a few other carriages bearing different symbols also parked.

When he looks around for the Duke and Duchess, he spots them in a deep discussion with the knights they’ve brought with them. Though they’ve come all the way, Jiang Cheng knows enough of this world’s etiquette that they will not be entering with them or it would be an insult to the King’s ability to keep his subjects safe.

Ironic, considering the King is the danger here.

And then it hits Jiang Cheng now that he’s about to enter the devil’s lair. Er. Although he’s in a villain’s body, the Wens are a different kind of villains altogether.

“Hey, don’t be nervous,” says Wei Wuxian from the side, voice uncharacteristically gentle. When Jiang Cheng shoots him a look of confusion, the alpha answers, “Your scent.”

Right.

Right.

Why has it taken Jiang Cheng today to realize that he also has a scent and that everyone can smell it? And why has he not learned to hide it?

He doesn’t even know if Jiang Wanyin has been taught beforehand. Asking now would draw suspicions. (The shifts in some of these people’s relationship dynamics is worrying enough, you know?)

“What are you two dallying there for?” Yu Ziyuan scolds as she walks past them stiffly, a serious Jiang Fengmian on her tow who only softens a second to smile encouragingly at them.

Jiang Cheng subconsciously tugs on Wei Wuxian’s coat and holds on to it as they walk forward as if they’re marching off to war. He only realizes what he’s doing when his hands are pulled and slotted instead with Wei Wuxian’s.

The awkwardness doesn’t even register much that he simply holds on to the alpha’s hand tighter as they pass by the guards in red-decorated armors.

The first thing Jiang Cheng notices when they finally step inside is that the castle is well-lit with rows and rows of chandeliers carrying a thousand burning candles each. Next is how large the hall is that it looks almost empty despite the present guests, servants, and royal guards just beside the empty thrones on the very front of the hall.

The last things he notices are the other groups—families?—present aside from them.

Three, to be exact.

One of the groups is of four men all in yellow-themed attires. The youngest of the men, a handsome guy around Jiang Fengmian’s age, particularly stands out with his golden-trimmed outer coat. There’s a band on his arm bearing the same flower-like crest he has seen earlier in town. Then this man must be this group’s head, though Jiang Cheng doubts seriously if this one is leader material given how… lecherous his eyes are as they rake over Yu Ziyuan who either doesn’t notice or pretends not to notice.

She gives the man and his group a nod, nonetheless, while it’s Jiang Fengmian who walks over with the grimmest expression Jiang Cheng has seen him wear so far to properly talk to him. Yu Ziyuan does lead them forward but not so close, just enough to exchange greetings without shouting at each other. Though soon enough, she’s approached by another man in blue and white and a long beard, and then swept up in a conversation of her own.

Said man belongs to the other group in the hall. They’re also in theme-colored clothes, theirs being mostly light blues, white, and other more pronounced shades of blue. There’s also four of them, all elderly gentlemen too, though the other three are circled in a corner of their own world and looking rather lofty with expressions that of a group of grieving rich, distant old uncles who you’re not close with but still somehow came to your funeral.

Then there are three people in green-themed attires, only one of whom is an elderly while the other two are much younger. Still significantly older than Jiang Cheng though, so they’re not people he can go and pretend to socialize with. Even Wei Wuxian doesn’t give an inkling that he knows them, so probably not even important people.

Looking at all the color-coded attires, Jiang Cheng only now notices that their group is, in fact, also matching in white, blacks, and purples. Well. The book has never really mentioned anything about things like this aside from the Wen family’s distinct red color and sun motif that every noble in the kingdom will have to carry when they have to venture outside.

Of course, he knows who these families should be. There are only four surnames in the book who would be important enough to be invited in this seemingly exclusive meeting: the Jiang family, the Jin family, the Nie family, and then the Lan family—all four of which are ducal families.

Jiang Cheng just doesn’t know which family is which, nor is he familiar with the faces of the nobilities. He can only wait by the sides with both Gu Xiyang and Wei Wuxian who leans over to whisper, “I’m surprised the peacock is not here.”

“…” He has no idea who that is—cannot find a face to picture him—only that it’s a nickname for Jiang Yanli’s ex-fiance, Jin Zixuan. Thus, he can only reply vaguely, “I guess…”

“And Lan Zhan, too, it seems,” Wei Wuxian resumes his rambling for the day, though he sounds more wistful now. “Even the Nie brothers did not come. Figures, their father just died, after all. There’s only me and you, ChengCheng~”

The youngsters are indeed only him and Wei Wuxian.

He has heard only recently that the King has actually invited the young masters to socialize with the Crown Prince, hence why the Jiang couple brought him and Wei Wuxian along to this solemn meeting that Jiang Cheng has initially thought is at least a small party.

It’s strange that the other families haven’t bothered to at least bring along one young master or young miss each. Otherwise, isn’t this just trying to incite the King’s ire?

Jiang Cheng would admire the nobles’ bravery to put up a subtle act of protest if only it doesn’t feed into the King’s over-the-top paranoia. It’s no wonder he’ll want to have more control.

“His Majesty arrives!”

The suddenness at which the hall silences so loudly sound almost poetic in Jiang Cheng’s head if not for the change in pressure. He can only smell everyone’s fear very, very faintly, but he feels it so keenly it draws goosebumps on his skin.

Wen Ruohan emerges from a door on the second floor in heavy white, red, and gold mantle cape, the trimmed ends of it trailing after him as he takes his slow, measured steps down the staircase. There’s an air about him that spreads, something that announces his presence, even at a distance, even when he’s not looking, even when your back is turned. It’s large and dominating and so very, very suffocating.

Power, Jiang Cheng thinks distantly. It’s the scent of power.

When everyone bows, Jiang Cheng hastens to follow lest his ogling is noticed, and that’s not going to happen because he does not have that annoying syndrome called “I’m-Not-Like-Other-Boys-Notice-Me-Hee-Hee”. No.

It’s Wei Wuxian who has it. Very unfortunate.  

He’s… well. He’s the main character, after all. Sigh. Of course, he decides it’s a fantastic idea to be the last person to bow, and shallowly at that, so that Wen Ruohan can grace them with his very anticipated, undivided attention.

It’s just really Jiang Cheng’s lack of any good luck to be standing so close next to Wei Wuxian he, too, feels the pressure of that gaze that isn’t even aimed at him—or is it? Uh. Jiang Cheng lowers himself even more, pulling Wei Wuxian along with him whose hand is still intertwined with his.

He can even feel the glaring daggers from another direction, no doubt from Yu Ziyuan.

“Rise,” comes the deep and reverberating command.

So everyone rises. So does Jiang Cheng. And he tries his hardest not to look straight for his curiosity, opting instead to staring down the King’s golden-coated boots. He has managed to get a fleeting glimpse, though, and two things stand out.

First, Wen Ruohan’s crown is the shiniest piece of gold he has ever seen atop the smooth-flowing hair down the King’s tall back. Second, the King has a pair of dark eyes peering down them with an eerie glint.

Okay. He’s a villain, alright, but he’s a very, very good-looking villain, indeed.

According to Wen Ruohan’s character description, he looks as youthful as Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian. In Jiang Cheng’s opinion, his features aren’t very sharp much like how villains are often depicted, but that’s likely only because he’s currently expressionless. Apparently, his smile is as sharp as a guillotine because when he does smile, the only reason can only be that someone is about to die. He’s not smiling now, so no one has to die. Yet.

(Jiang Cheng can only hope he doesn’t have to be included when that happens.)

With Wen Ruohan finally seated on the throne, an influx of more people in red and whites enter the hall—his own elders and trusted people, most likely, but no signs of youngerlings, still. No princes, then.

One of the Wen elders take a stand just next to Wen Ruohan’s throne, a servant holding a chest trailing after him. The Elder opens the chest to reveal scrolls. He picks one, stands straight, and looks around the room with something like scorn before clearing his throat to read whatever is written on the scroll:

“To His Most Excellent Majesty, The King! We, of the House of Jin, would like to express our deepest regrets for Lord Lanling, Jin Zixuan’s,” the Elder pauses, if only to throw another look at the group in yellow whose head has the grace to look repentant about it, “inattendance.”

Ah. So those are the Jins.

Figures their leader must wear an arm band of his family insignia and clothes that can almost rival a prince. That lecherous-looking man must be the Grand Duke, Jin Guangshan—a tertiary-level villain—whose power relies on his wealth. 

His wealth has earned him that title and his arrogance.

And isn’t it such a circle back from Jiang Cheng’s world? Wealth is just something else entirely.

During the war, Jin Guangshan will be sitting at the back, drinking wine and sleeping around, while everyone fights in the frontlines to death. Then after the war, he’ll claim victory and elect himself the next King.

Though to his credit, he doesn’t wreak havoc here to there. Apart from the faux power he enjoys throwing around to have his way with more women and more wine, his tiger of a wife is who runs much of the kingdom, and she does it quite well to balance her husband’s incompetence. Or at least that’s how the first book has ended.

Jiang Cheng has no inkling what sort of conflict would happen for the second book.

The book.

The book. Somehow, the reminder pulls Jiang Cheng out of the scene more than the sudden drop of temperature manages to pull him from his musings. Well, fuck it. Here are characters from the book. There’s the villain, here’s the main character, and oh, here goes whatever event foreshadows the plot two years later.

The pungent smell of fear rise above the Wen Elder’s voice who still reads the audacious excuses from the nobilities with passion you’d think he has a kink for dying. The nobilities are quailing, some more obvious than the others, and the King’s expression is darkening.

Have some tact and stop reading, please, Jiang Cheng tries to say telepathically to the old man. Forget it. It’s just a book in the end.

That fact rallies his senses together, easy and immediate, that his own fear slowly dissolves enough for him to breathe through the suffocation of Wen Ruohan’s oppressive aura.

When silence after the last letter from the Lan family—those in blue and white, he finally finds out—reigns, Jiang Cheng thinks: Why am I here? What am I doing in this world?

Then Wen Ruohan speaks, “Very well.”

And Jiang Cheng thinks again: Wrong.

That’s not your script, nor is it something you should say. Isn’t it “The Four Great Clans are becoming arrogant”? “It’s time to teach you what is order”? “What is hierarchy”?

And then Jiang Cheng balks at his own train of thoughts.

Everyone is surprised that the King simply stands after a phrase and turns. He whispers something to his flabbergasted Elder before walking down and entering a door. Jiang Cheng watches the line of other Wen counsels who’ve stationed themselves just below the throne platform throw everyone strange looks before following their King in a neat line.

He remembers, at last: Right. The script doesn’t start until two years later.

Isn’t that a calming thought? Debatable.

The air finally does clear despite the strange and uncertain reaction from the usually paranoid King, and yet he has always been so unpredictable that it’s nothing to sigh in relief about.

“Ah,” the Elder clears his throat and collects himself. “This way, my Lords and Ladies, please.”

The boot-licker that he is, Jin Guangshan is first to recover and trot after the direction pointed for them, not a single glance thrown at anyone as he rushes.

The rest at least afford themselves some grace by nodding at smiling at each other along the way. Even Jiang Cheng—or maybe they’re actually greeting Wei Wuxian beside him, but it would be rude if he doesn’t pay his seniors respect—is not spared from their mini greetings. His neck is going to be sore after he finishes returning their small nods.

“And Young Lords,” the Elder calls to Jiang Cheng’s own group. He points to the opposite door. “A different meeting awaits you.”

Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian pass them with a pointed look (“Behave!”) and a smile (“Please behave.”) respectively before a different guide approaches them.

“This way, my Lords. Mr. Gu.”

Ah.

Right. This Gu Xiyang is also here.

Apparently, his butler is popular this Wen guide knows him. Or maybe Gu Xiyang frequents the castle too? Wouldn’t be surprising with how Yu Ziyuan knows a lot about this place. He must have followed her occasionally.

Though before they can get far, someone calls for them,

“Ah, Childe Jiang, Young Wei.”

Interestingly, a series of conflicting emotions dance across Wei Wuxian’s until he settles on stiffness that does not bode well. Jiang Cheng warily turns to the person.

“Greetings, Lord Chancellor,” Wei Wuxian greets first, and then he curtseys in the most proper Jiang Cheng has ever seen this little shit do. Even Jiang Fengmian, his greatest supporter, can’t afford that treatment.

This is Lan Qiren, then.

Jiang Cheng only knows of one character who holds that title. Although he should have known someone with his personality would click well with Yu Ziyuan. He is the same Lan who has been the first to stand in the line of nobilities wishing to speak to her a while ago.

It’s unusual to see this rambunctious alpha treat Lan Qiren with his utmost respect, however, because although he hasn’t appeared much in the story, Wei Wuxian often thinks of him with ridicule.

It has always been “Old Man Lan” this and “Old Man Lan” that. He’s “so pragmatic” and “so prudish” and all that. In fact, that’s probably what he’s rambling in that over-active mind of his.

Though to be fair, Lan Qiren hasn’t shown much favor towards Wei Wuxian in the book either. Jiang Cheng can see why. This alpha has, indeed, won the war for them, but his methods are not very well-received by any strongly-principled character. In addition, his oblivious flirting with Lan Wangji has not been discreet to the eye of… literally everyone.

“And Mr. Gu. How are you?”

For a split second, for the second time, Jiang Cheng wants to whip his head and ask, “Who??” Then he catches a glimpse of the charismatic butler a few steps behind them bowing to the Chancellor.

See? He really is popular around.

“Fantastic,” replies the cheeky butler. Jiang Cheng wants to plant his palm on his face. “Well be with the Lord Chancellor.”

“With gratitude.” Lan Qiren turns to Jiang Cheng and he wants to scream when the older man’s stoic expression softens. “Jiang Wanyin. I’m happy to see you. It has been a year. How have you been?”

Uh.

How does Jiang Wanyin reply to that? (Jiang Cheng screams: I didn’t know you two are close?!??)

“Very well, Lord Chancellor.” With some contemplation, Jiang Cheng adds, a touch hesitant, “Thank you for asking.”

Lan Qiren frowns in disapproval, and Jiang Cheng’s polite smile freezes.

“You’re no stranger to me, Jiang Wanyin. Have I not been forward enough with my request for you to drop formalities?”

And call you Noble Uncle?! Jiang Cheng blanches at the thought. Ha! No.

Even Wei Wuxian chokes on his spit, and he has heard Gu Xiyang’s sharp inhale. This is definitely not a common occurrence, not with audience, at least. Hell! Even the book has subtly hinted Lan Qiren’s disapproval for Jiang Wanyin’s derisive conduct.

But… but if Jiang Wanyin used to be friendly with a person like Lan Qiren… Then damn Jiang Wanyin’s stupidity far surpasses even Wei Wuxian’s. How can he waste a fairly good ally?

Man, your stupidity knows no bounds.

This Lan Qiren is not just the Chancellor of this kingdom’s only and highly-esteemed Sun Academy that actually focuses on brains. He is also essentially a spokesperson—for the nobilities against Wei Wuxian’s rebels and minorities, that is.

(Yes. Wei Wuxian’s idea of fighting Wen Ruohan’s tyranny is ruling people of his own. He goes and gathers rebels, mercenaries, and exiled nobilities, and that is why Lan Qiren, and even Lan Wangji initially, wouldn’t give him a rest despite his righteous aim.)

But the plot aside, Lan Qiren’s popularity with the nobles is going to really come in handy.

Jiang Cheng’s frozen smile thaws to something warmer. He doesn’t know himself much a charmer, but he is one hell of a good learner. Money is not the only benefit to being friends with A-Sang.

“Please, I hold the Lord Chancellor in the highest esteem too much I must pay my respects where it’s due.” Jiang Cheng tries to feign shyness—much to Wei Wuxian’s trauma if his jaw-drop is anything like it—when he adds, “Besides, I should not embarrass the young masters of the Lan family.”

He’s not sure how effective that is because Gu Xiyang’s judgmental stare heats his cheeks with shame.

But Lan Qiren’s warm gaze doesn’t recede even when he shakes his head disappointedly, so Jiang Cheng counts his victory.

“What do those bratty nephews of mine know?” the Chancellor replies, huffing with grace, still. Then he sighs and pats Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “But a year has indeed passed. You even learned to speak flowers.”

Jiang Cheng strains to maintain his sheepish smile. Sorry. I’m not actually Jiang Wanyin.

“I will speak with you again soon. Take care, gentlemen.”

Lan Qiren finally leaves for the meeting with a look that tells Jiang Cheng he’s going to be talked into calling the other “Uncle” sometime again, soon.

Yeah, no. Improper. Impudent. That is never going to happen, unless with good reason. And being family is the only ever good reason. And they will never be family. Jiang Cheng is not shameless. Even if he is to be one, he’s not going to be Wei Wuxian-type of shameless.

(In retrospect, they can be family if Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji marries, but by then, Jiang Cheng is off to his sweet, sweet freedom.)

“If you could kindly explain that?” asks Gu Xiyang, an odd smile playing on his lips.

Jiang Cheng absolutely has the rights to brace himself for Wei Wuxian’s turn who really takes his time before his own version of an odd smile takes shape and he’s finally asking—stating, really, “You are close with the Chancellor.”

“It’s called making connections,” he defends, chin tilting up. “What is wrong with that?”

His companions barely retreat. If anything, they’ve taken subtle steps forward Jiang Cheng immediately feels crowded despite the still-acceptable distance.

He’s only saved by their Wen guide who returns after distancing himself considerably a while ago.

“My Lords, please. His Highness awaits.”

Jiang Cheng sighs in relief, mindless of the two pairs of narrowed eyes accepting the conversation postponed but certainly not over. They’ll ask again, of course, but that’s a problem for the future.

For now, he has a—sigh—Crown Prince to survive.

Actually, if Jiang Cheng has learned anything from listening to Wuling-ge rant about his odd hobby—reading webnovel and manhua of all kinds and flavors—that would be that a transmigrated character like him, despite being assigned some sort of a role, has the tendency to be at the limelight of the plot solely for being different.

That would be a good thing if only Jiang Cheng is the type to survive through being involved in and changing the plot. Alas, he is not main character material nor does he have the “Pick-Me!” syndrome to go along with it. (Not to mention with his sort of luck in life, who’s to say he will turn out fortunate like a manhua character to make it out to the end of the plot with a happy ending? Who’s to say if he becomes the actual main character that it won’t become a tragedy genre in the end?)

Nope.

The plan is to run and get the hell back to his actual world. And that includes not drawing any untoward attention like a damned Mary Sue. Gary Sue. Whichever. Whatever.

So he takes his chance when a servant passes, carrying a tray of drinks. Tea? Jiang Cheng is not sure. He is sure, though, that if the servant passes by and slips, those drinks won’t stay on the tray.

His best plan?

Trip the servant.

He really does it.

And so the tea comes pouring on Jiang Cheng—

“My Lord!” “A-Cheng!”

Not.

He forgets he has two trusty servants who do their job rather well. They caught the tray—Wei Wuxian more so catching the servant who flushes prettily. The flirty fool.

Gu Xiyang forcibly spins him around, eyes readily scanning him from head to toe as if he’s the one who tripped.

The Wen guide whom has frozen in shock recovers and begins to scold the servant, though Jiang Cheng doubts she’s listening when Wei Wuxian is grinning down her soul that she’s all red and peachy.

“I am fine,” Jiang Cheng grits at the fussy gloved hands smoothing his collars. That has gone very well.

“Good,” the butler replies, handing the tray over to Wei Wuxian who is yet to let go of the cute servant. In his distraction, he takes the tray without realizing. Gu Xiyang has to call for him, “Young Master Wei.”

Remembering himself, Wei Wuxian laughs and helps the servant up. He says to the Wen guide who still prattles on, “Hey, now. Don’t scold the miss so hard. It was an accident and no one got hurt.”

And because he’s just so easily charming like that, the Wen guide closes his mouth, though he keeps a narrowed eye on the servant. Instead, he turns to Jiang Cheng to apologize.

Jiang Cheng waves him away, rolling his eyes as he watches Wei Wuxian whisper something into the servant’s ear that has her embarrassed to tears before handing the tray over.

“Young Master Wei,” Gu Xiyang calls yet again, tone more clipped. When Wei Wuxian takes his station back next to Jiang Cheng, grinning, Gu Xiyang turns to the Wen guide who still insists on apologizing. “There is no need for apologies, but perhaps it is best you accompany the maid back. I will take us to the meeting place from here.”

The maid does look about to pass out. Not from any injury, of course. It’s from the main character’s impossible charm.

“Y-Yes, Mr. Gu. Please excuse us, then.” The Wen guide bows, then he drags the servant back to who knows where.

Jiang Cheng is sure it’s not to help her back but rather to give her another scolding. He suddenly feels bad for that now.

“Shall we, my Lord?” Gu Xiyang asks, gloved hand stretched to the path before them.

Jiang Cheng sighs and nods begrudgingly, sighing even more when he hears Wei Wuxian whistling a tune beside him. How can this little shit be so happy—

Wait.

Wait.

Jiang Cheng’s frown slowly shifts into a small sweet smile as he reaches for Wei Wuxian’s arm.

“Hmn? A-Cheng?” The alpha startles but welcomes their sudden proximity.

“Gege,” he whispers, bolder when Wei Wuxian readily offers his whole arm for Jiang Cheng to latch on to until he’s almost hanging off of the alpha’s shoulder.

At this, Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow, part amused, part suspicious. Jiang Cheng can almost immediately read what that look means: “You definitely need something.”

So Jiang Cheng’s lips tremble as he tries to form words that won’t alert the butler behind them who is already glaring at the way they’re all over each other. Though, not even a few seconds later, the alpha laughs heartily.

It was honestly a comforting sound, bright and charming, if only it wasn’t so annoyingly inappropriate for the situation.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jiang Cheng snaps, losing his act in an instant.

Wei Wuxian cooes, “Aw, don’t be angry, baby brother. You look too adorable like that~”

“What the hell—”

“Shh.” Wei Wuxian leans closer to him, grinning knowingly. “Oh, I know what you want, ChengCheng. Unfortunately, your guard dog is quite vicious.”

Jiang Cheng’s face scrunches up as he sneaks a look at his butler who notices and narrows his own gaze. Caught, Jiang Cheng immediately looked back to Wei Wuxian.

“I can’t see how he’s dog-like. If anything, you are more dog-like,” he replies.

Wei Wuxian grimaces, the expression very unfitting for a smiley young man. “I love you, but you know I loathe dogs. That’s a bad comparison. Or should you be a cat, too?”

“No!”

Wei Wuxian’s laughter sounded so content that Jiang Cheng didn’t have the heart to argue. Instead, he sighed.

“Can you really not do anything?” You’re like the almighty main character, goes unsaid.

The alpha shakes his head.

Jiang Cheng can only give up.

Meeting the Crown Prince is anti-climactic, at best.

He hasn’t really appeared much in the book aside from a few mentions. Hence, Jiang Cheng would not know how to put a face to this person, however, he has never thought it would be this unimpressive.

Wen Xu is… er, not handsome.

He is not ugly, per se. In fact, he is a fairly normal-looking young man. It’s just that being surrounded by very, very goodlooking people made him look a lot less than he actually is.

Gods. How come Wen Ruohan sired such a son? Was the late Queen ugly?

He doesn’t even carry an ounce of personality to make up for his lack of charisma. Sure, he sneers, but nothing formidable. He’s demanding, but nothing domineering. His father is one hell of a powerhouse, but he simply sits there like a regular Joe even if he’s dressed in reds and golds to the tee.

He’s just really… slimy. Like a brat, Jiang Cheng muses. A very, very annoying brat.

Jiang Cheng’s expectation for the other prince, Wen Chao, his younger brother, has lowered significantly. It has been the younger prince who has had some screen time in the book, and he has been described “barely passable” and “greasy.”

If Wen Xu is bland, then Wen Chao’s character is beyond saving. Jiang Cheng dreads meeting him even more.

Fortunately, only Wen Xu is here. Him and some other Wen young masters and young misses, that is—one of whom Wei Wuxian apparently knows judging by the way his eyes have never left a timid-looking young master.

It’s a garden they’re led to, one just at the side of the castle and over a pond, where Wen Xu and three other Wens await, along with a few servants and guards likely only there for the Crown Prince. The three Wens, the timid-looking young master, a young miss, and an older young master who looks like her, are seated on a round table together.

Meanwhile, Wen Xu sits separated from the rest with a sour expression, one knight so-obviously more special than the others standing just next to him. And though he lifts his gaze in greeting, he does it so begrudgingly Jiang Cheng almost wants to roll his eyes. He hears Wei Wuxian mutter something beneath his breath, so he pulls this stupid alpha to the round table before he does something main character-worthy again.

As expected, Wei Wuxian does know the timid-looking young master. He greets the other so happily he looks about to vibrate out of his skin.

“Wen Ning!”

Oh. This is Wen Ning. Basically, the main character’s glorified errand boy in a nutshell.

“Y-Young Master Wei,” stutters Wen Ning, surprised but nonetheless equally as happy to have someone he knows and is comfortable to be around with.

Jiang Cheng knows this character is everything shyness. That and meekness.

Opposite this Wei Wuxian who wounds his arms around Jiang Cheng and begins to shake them both.

“ChengCheng! Meet Wen Ning, the best archer in the academy. Wen Ning, meet my didi.”

A pair of gloved hands work their magic to detach Jiang Cheng from Wei Wuxian’s terrible arms. He mutters his thanks to the butler he keeps on forgetting is only ever a few steps behind before setting his attention on to this Wen Ning.

Not very surprisingly, Wen Ning pales at the attention, though Jiang Cheng can’t decide if it’s because his natural expression is always grumpy or the other’s innate nervousness.

“U-Uhm, yes. Y-Young Lord Jiang…” Wen Ning visibly struggles before he adds his last sentence, “Y-Young Master Wei t-talked a lot a-about you…”

Jiang Cheng takes pity on him. He nods and replies promptly, “Hello, Young Master Wen.”

Then he shifts his attention to the other two who have kindly waited their turn to exchange greetings with him. Jiang Cheng is not familiar with them, and nor do they seem particularly interested in being here. Insignificant characters, then, again. Might be Wen Xu’s lackeys, even if they appear courteous as they have… tea party? Whatever they are currently doing.

It's a rather boring gathering.

Wen Xu still sulks over his corner, sneering every now and then whenever Wei Wuxian makes a point to express just how much he’s enjoying this meeting, but he has never shown any other form of acknowledgement over his own guests’ presence.

Jiang Cheng is not faring any better.

The other two Wens with them are not speaking, and frankly, they look equally as uncomfortable about being there.

Fortunately, at some point in time, Wen Xu stands with a haughty huff.

“I’m going back!” He glares at his faithful guard. “Don’t stop me anymore! I stayed enough as ordered. Anyway, no one else is coming. What’s the use of doing this!?”

He stomps away like the arrogant prick he is, leaving behind a startled Wen Ning, a Wei Wuxian very much close to laughing, and the two other Wens even more uncomfortable.

Their group endured for a few more minutes before the other two Wens bid their own goodbyes.

“What now?” Jiang Cheng asks not Wei Wuxian because he’s really so taken with Wen Ning.

“I assume the meeting will take a while, my Lord,” the butler replies. “Should you wish to wait here or walk around is up to you.”

“Oh.”

Obviously, the sanest option is… none.

Chapter Text

“Ge…”

“Ge? Wake up. You will be late.”

“Ge!” 

Jiang Cheng groans but finds himself obliging anyway. Not without his morning grumbling, that is, though he suspects he’s being ignored again.

It’s not usually a silent one during the weekdays. Silence only means there is silent treatment from a certain brat.

“Did you have to be so loud… Aish. I’ll be late? Yeah, right. The last time you said that, I was three damn hours early. I swear, you’re trying to ki—” Jiang Cheng ceases his mumbling as soon as he looks at the time. With a sharp inhale, he drops his phone safely on his bed before jumping up to shout: “SONG LAN, YOU BRAT!! HOW COULD YOU WAKE ME UP THIS LATE!?!?!”

No reply. 

Of course, there isn’t. 

The brat has likely gone to school by now while Jiang Cheng still feels the crust of dried saliva at the corner of his mouth. Cursing a thousand more times, he makes a quick work of showering, chugging a cup of cold coffee by his bedside table, and rampaging his closet to look for his uniform. 

Thud!

For two seconds, he allows himself to pause and look down whatever that thing is: A binder. Strange. He doesn’t keep stationery in his closet. 

“Huh? ‘Way of The’ what?” Jiang Cheng bends down and tries again, “Way of The Duke of Ho—” 

He freezes.

Tardiness forgotten, memories of yesterday—of Wei Wuxian, and Gu Xiyang, and Lotus Pier, and the Wen family—all come rushing back into his mind. His knees buckle and he finds himself slumped on the ground, hysterical laugh loud and echoing around the four corners of his normal-fucking-looking-finally-bedroom. 

“Ha— Haha! HAHA! HAHAHAHA!” 

Oh god. Oh my god. 

He’s out.

He’s finally out!

“Holy shit, I’m back!” 

Hah! What Wen family? What Sun kingdom? What second-fucking-rated omega villain? Take that, transmigration deity or whatever! 

“Fuck you! Fuck that! I have returned and I will fulfill my promise of killing you, Nie-fucking-Huaisang—” 

“My Lord, you ought to rise now.”

—and then the illusion breaks.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes open to wine red canopy, a familiar outline lingering at the corner of his gaze over where he presumes the door is. 

The humanoid outline shifts, though it doesn’t move any distance. “Ah, so you are awake.”

“Barely,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. 

“Mn. You sound awfully grumpy. Is it the bold color?”

Jiang Cheng takes his time grounding himself back up from dreamland. When he’s not as sleep-addled, he replies to the still-unmoving butler, “Hard to say.”

“Then I will make it worse by reminding you that breakfast will be with the King.”

“I know that,” Jiang Cheng groans. He closes his eyes because it’s red here, red there, red fucking everywhere. He fears he will also see red if he looks at them any second longer. “A night’s sleep doesn’t make me amnesiac.”

Gu Xiyang’s usually silent presence silences even more until Jiang Cheng is overcome with the illusion that he’s alone. 

Inhaling deeply, he pulls the covers off of him and pushes himself up from the comfort of that damned bed he should really condemn. How unfair. The villain’s lair is even more comfortable than his own room. 

“What?” Jiang Cheng, now very much awake, asks defensively at Gu Xiyang’s judgmental stare.

Apparently, the butler has been standing at one corner of the room since he failed to wake Jiang Cheng up thirty minutes ago. Thirty freaking minutes ago. 

“Sleep is usually for the good of the body.” Gu Xiyang steps forward, thoughtful expression momentarily dimming before he masks it back to that creepy serenity. “But it’s hard to say with you.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“No time to waste,” declares the bastard, smoothly changing the topic. “The royal family’s breakfast starts early. You only have about thirty minutes to make yourself presentable.” 

Grimacing, Jiang Cheng ambles towards what he presumes is the door to the bathroom. “Do I have to go? It’s just eating.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think you can afford another blunder after yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” Jiang Cheng repeats wryly. “Right.”

Hah. Yesterday.

Yesterday is supposed to be a dream; today a normality. 

Apparently not. 

‘Not yet,’ Jiang Cheng corrects. 

So be it. He will dream today, and tomorrow, and the next days, but it’s not going to be forever. He will make sure it’s not forever. 

“My, what a funny look.” Gu Xiyang’s lips don’t quite move, but his eyes do, and they’re doing a very fantastic job ruffling Jiang Cheng’s feathers. Jiang Cheng scowls. “Have you finally found a successful way to rid yourself of Young Master Wei?”

“I can’t match his genius.” 

“Ah, that much is true.”

Jiang Cheng tries not to punch the bastard. 

Alright. Yesterday.  

“None” has meant that: Literally none. Nothing. Not a thing. 

“I’ll stay. Do none.” is Jiang Cheng’s big-brained move.

“Very well,” is his trusty butler’s response. 

“Sure. Let’s stay,” is the plot-armor-equipped Wei Wuxian’s agreement. 

“I-I will a-accompany y-you, Y-Young Lord Jiang, Young Master Wei,” is the stuttering promise of their impromptu host, Wen Ning, who is very much-preferred than any other Wen.

It’s all good. It’s all fine. The garden’s peaceful. The day is nice. The plot can happen in the backdrop.

Adding to the goodness of the day, a maid comes rushing in with a pleasant smile and a tray of fresh tea. Jiang Cheng gets a whiff of it and suddenly, tea is more appetizing than his morning instant coffees. 

Hah. 

But of course, let it be known that in the usual transmigration fashion, there is no escaping anything. 

Faster than any of them can even really realize, Jiang Cheng’s sudden great thirst for tea is quenched most satisfyingly. 

He bathes in it. Literally. 

He merely blinks and immediately, his skin, too, gets a taste of such refined tea. Mhm. Most satisfying, indeed. 

“How dare you!” 

Surprisingly, it’s not Gu Xiyang’s dramaticism that grates Jiang Cheng’s ear so vexingly it physically hurts. Instead, it’s one usually laughing Wei Wuxian’s shout— Roar? Growl?

Jiang Cheng wipes the dripping tea off his forehead as he thugs the hem of Jiang Wanyin’s feral older brother’ clothes. “Oi, don’t make a scene.”

Any louder—and denser of the main character’s admittedly main character-worthy pheromones—and the Wens will sniff out the drama. 

That is not going to be good, obviously.

(Although he shouldn’t have even expected anything good beforehand, not when he’s walking around with this walking tribulation of a main character. Ugh.)

“Young Master Wei,” intervenes Gu Xiyang, surprisingly calm despite the situation. For an alpha, he seems to really like playing the role of a beta. You know, peace-maker, mediator, and—Look, even Wei Wuxian listens to him. 

Wei Wuxian steps back as he reigns his pheromones back in. Thankfully. It doesn’t really smell all that great when all Jiang Cheng can feel is wildfire and illegal logging. Such a nature-y person he truly is.

(Imagine you’re a cultivator who owns a large piece of ancestral land. It’s sacred. It holds memories. It’s old, and it’s yours. And some tyrannic cultivator decides that he wants to rule the world and burns your place down as a warning for everyone else, and, also, to make a supervisory office out of it. Now your parents are dead, your martial uncles are dead, your martial siblings are dead, and your home is not anymore. Yeah, it’s actually that scary. It’s only that such great anger is not directed towards Jiang Cheng—and the fact that they’re actually not cultivators. Ha-Ha—that he’s able to play it cool despite his drying throat and tense ass.)

Though he really should rethink his choices. 

Jiang Cheng recognizes the maid embarrassingly late. It’s the same maid he has tripped earlier. Likely, she has gotten fired or something, and now she comes to seek revenge on him. She wouldn’t have done this crazy stunt if she still has anything to lose. 

Uh… Yeah. It’s definitely Jiang Cheng’s fault this time. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he tries to telepathically relay to the glaring maid who still holds the teapot with a shaking hand. It’s probably still not empty, and she wants to pour more onto him. 

Well.

Though repentant, Jiang Cheng is not exactly happy to receive this sort of pay back.

“Young Master Wei, please take the Young Lord to change. I will deal with the clever lady.” 

“But—” 

“I will deal with her,” Gu Xiyang repeats, serene smile growing wider and brighter it doesn’t look all too different from a serial killer. Jiang Cheng swallows his own protests when those eyes land on him. “Take the Young Lord for a change of clothes while there are no other eyes worthy to be plucked out.” 

This time, Jiang Cheng shivers. 

He can only look away from the increasingly paling maid who seems to finally snap out of her emotionally-driven actions. He only hopes any consequences upon her does not involve murder. 

Right? Right?

(No. No. Jiang Cheng knows better than anyone else the justice system of such a world where power rules over the weak. Even if he hasn’t known the book, it’s common knowledge the ways of the old world where kingdoms and empires stand in place of democracy. 

Only that he can’t believe he hasn’t thought of that before he has acted. 

He is Jiang Cheng, a regular boy in his regular life in the regular world, but now he is Jiang Wanyin of the nobility whose actions will never not matter one bit. Not for as long as he is part of the power who rules over the weak.

He shouldn’t have done that. He should have known better. He knows firsthand how it is like to be at the receiving end of the ruling power’s mindless actions. He—)

“A-Cheng?” Jiang Cheng blinks to Wei Wuxian’s concerned gray eyes only a few inches away from his. “You’re quiet.” 

“Just thinking,” he replies, looking away and around the garden where he belatedly realizes only has him, his brother, and a quiet Wen Ning whose gaze is averted. Then he glances down his tea-soaked body. “I should really change out of these…”

Wei Wuxian levels him with a look but otherwise doesn’t say anything. He sheds his outer coat and hangs it around Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. 

“You really should,” he replies with narrowed eyes. “It is not good for anyone to see you like this. Fortunately, Wen Ning knows a shortcut.”

Jiang Cheng does nothing but nod dumbly. 

Wen Ning leads them to a few quiet passageways where only their footsteps echo. Not one of them speaks. Wei Wuxian, for all his sunny persona, proves himself capable of slipping into a glum mood after the events earlier. 

Bricked gray walls blur at Jiang Cheng’s periphery as he tries to follow the rhythm of his companion’s synchronized marches. Apparently, it’s a knight thing.

Midway, however, he finally can’t take it anymore. He breaks the silence, voice much too meek even to his own ears, “… What will happen to her?”

Wei Wuxian pauses. 

“Mr. Gu is adamant to deal with her himself, so we can be rest assured she will be handled well.” 

“Nothing too… bad, right?”

Wei Wuxian gives him a grin that looks scripted to anyone who has seen the genuine thing. 

“She will be taken good care of. Don’t concern yourself with that, A-Cheng,” the alpha says. “After all, for every action, there is a consequence.” 

Jiang Cheng knows the words are not for him, but at that moment, he simply wishes to scream. 

“Their ceiling paintings are surprisingly not tacky.”

“My Lord thinks so?”

“For a very limited palette, that is. They could do with more colors, of course.” 

“My Lord is right.”

“I notice they like the sun motif very much, though. But I think a dragon would fit them better, especially with their theme color.”

“I see.”

“I want to go on and on about their aesthetic but you will probably simply agree. I don’t think you are even listening.”

“Of course.”

“Right… So, I was thinking long and hard about this since we stepped out, but I really want to go back.”

“Absolutely.” He feels an oncoming grin. “—Not.” 

The grin doesn’t materialize, so Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. 

Forget it. 

They’re already too far away, anyway.

For all the peace and quiet of the hallway of wherever wing his assigned room is, the center hall is the opposite. As soon as they reach the area where this wing and the rest of the palace is connected, a number of guards in heavy armor surround them like they are thieves. 

The one in charge takes one step ahead the rest. 

“We have come to escort the Young Lord Jiang.”

Jiang Cheng tries not to grimace. 

For a stroll, it would make sense. But to the fucking dining room? Get it real. 

The paranoid King really knows how to guard his belongings. 

‘It’s not as if I am a willing participant to this arrangement,’ Jiang Cheng thinks bitterly as he tries to rein his emotions in, mindful of the fact that his own scent is out of his control. 

Whatever Yu Ziyuan has managed to do to impress the King in that adults-only meeting, it’s apparently so good that he actually allows them entrance past the frontal castle and straight into the very palace where the royal family themselves lay rest of their murder plans for the day. 

How and what Jiang Cheng has to do with it that he’s involved somehow? He. Does. Not. Know. He’s just here. The Duke and Duchess Jiang should have been enough, but no! Their son somehow should be sicced along, while the more talented, supposed main character more worthy of these things, Wei Wuxian, is somehow not invited. 

Woe is Jiang Cheng. 

“The fate of an heir, I guess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh. Nothing,” he replies and prays the guards have not heard.  

At least the Wen guards are as stoic as they portray themselves. Apart from the slight pressure their natural auras as military men exude, they’re otherwise silent and dedicated to simply walking with him. 

Jiang Cheng can’t dismiss them. Doing so might be translated as a direct insult to the King’s good graces. Jiang Cheng can’t match Wei Wuxian’s ability to tempt fate and somehow manage to get out of alive. He simply has to endure it. 

Not like he hasn’t endured worse. 

(Oh, definitely. He has endured much, much worse.)

“By the way, where did Wei Wuxian sleep?” Jiang Cheng is glad for it, but the lack of chaos where a certain Wei brings wherever he goes can be strange. He must have gotten used to it. 

“In the castle, of course.”

“Alone?” Jiang Cheng scoffs at the idea. “Who’s going to watch him?”

“Your father.”

“The Du—” Jiang Cheng spins around to face Gu Xiyang properly, wide-eyes demanding an explanation. “Wait, what?”

“We have arrived, Young Lord Jiang,” announces a serious voice from the side, forcing Jiang Cheng to withhold his questions. He narrows his gaze at the feigned cluelessness of this stupid, stupid butler and steps back. For now. For now.

The dining room, exclusive as it is to the limited number of the royal family, is not any less than the castle—or any room within the Wen’s territory, really. It’s still red, some gold, and ancient symbols. That and antique vases, antique trinkets, antique… uh, whatever those other decorations are called. 

It’s too flashy it’s almost obnoxious. Then again, considering the setting, it’s most probably what anyone would consider top-notch interior designing. 

Jiang Cheng tries to relax as Gu Xiyang steps aside to let him in. And he does, because he doesn’t have enough balls to escape. Braincells though, he has more than enough to decide he’s not going to have himself beheaded. 

Taking a deep breath, Jiang Cheng finally reaches the long table draped with—surprisingly—not red. 

Seated are: A certain imposing man with a golden crown at the head seat (he neither looks happy nor mad), a not-handsome Wen Xu on his left (definitely not happy to be there, as always, the slimy brat), Yu Ziyuan on his right (why is she even there?) and… too-handsome-to-be-Wen Chao next to Wen Xu.

Jiang Cheng swallows when the other handsome young man (Wen?) aside from Wen Ruohan gives him such a chilling grin it makes his waxed skin crawl.

The sound of doors closing has Jiang Cheng flinching, the book tumbling down the floor with a soft thud. 

“Who is there?” a smooth, pleasant voice so awfully demands it doesn’t take much to assume it’s very used to getting its way. 

Jiang Cheng curses under his breath. He makes quick work of picking the book up and placing it back where he has gotten it from before he begins his escape. Except, he hasn’t even reached the end of the bookshelves when the voice speaks again, this time much louder and closer. 

“What do we have here?”

Jiang Cheng freezes in place, swallowing thickly.

Well, shit.

“A little rat, I see?”

Jiang Cheng bristles.

Of all insults he can endure, this one is not it.

“Watch who you are calling a rat,” he grits out, fists bawling as he turns to face the person. 

It’s a young man. Tall, probably muscular, and posturing like your stereotypical alpha—quite handsome too, but unbearably arrogant it’s hardly anything to look at in the end. Figures, he has to be a Wen, even if he wears simple clothes. It’s only that they’re obviously of quality that Jiang Cheng knows he’s not a servant. 

Must be one of Wen Xu and Wen Chao’s many cousins. Hah. Those two princes must have inherited the worst of the Wen genes. Or how come all their other cousins have their charms but not them? 

Usually, web-novel princes are the best-looking in their worlds. A-Sang must really hate his characters. Has he taken inspiration from real life, by any chance?

Yikes. A real-life Wen family would be terrible. 

“A little cat then.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. One of the typical Wens, then. At least he has the sense to backtrack, though being called a cat this time is not a compliment either. But, well, it’s not particularly insulting.

So he’ll let it slide. Okay? He’ll let this one slide and leave. Peacefully. 

Unfortunately, the young man takes amusement at his lack of response and steps closer. Jiang Cheng tenses but holds his ground a little longer.

Might be too early to bolt away.

“A sneaky little kitty wandering around unsupervised, ready to be pounced on.”

Jiang Cheng’s brow twitches. Hold it in. Inhale. Ex—

Yeah, no.

“And you are the dog ready to pounce?”

Though as soon as he bites back, he begins to regret it. But hey, who needs patience when it's being tested? Who told this man to test it?!

“A dog?” the young man repeats slowly, expression dimming. 

Okay. This is still a Wen. Oh, damn it. What if displeasing him triggers some hidden death flag or something? 

But just as Jiang Cheng gears himself up to simply fucking it and running away, the young man throws his head back, silvery laughter escaping his mouth. 

Hmn. Actually, this man could make the perfect random character who becomes famous after appearing once for one dumb reason like being handsome. It’s only a shame that he’s a Wen.

“Easy, kitty. Don’t you know this is a forbidden area?”

No. Yes. Maybe. Okay, yes, I do.

“And?” Jiang Cheng challenges, already beginning to step back very subtly. “I was let in.”

He will have to leave before his bullshit is called out. He has had an inkling that the area is forbidden, but he has believed in one Wei-fucking-Wuxian, who has claimed it’s not, because Wen Ning has made an offhand comment about said library holding the most coveted knowledge. (Don’t ask how those statements are even related.)

But alright. 

It’s not that the two have forced him inside. After waiting for Jiang Cheng to change his clothes, the two conversed—debated, actually—about other grayer areas open to visitors, even if unspoken. And somehow, disaster-magnet Wei Wuxian decided it’s a good idea to test the limits and see the armory. 

Even Jiang Cheng has the common sense to know that an armory inside Wen Ruohan’s walls is definitely for his eyes only. 

“It’s not a museum display, Wei Wuxian,” he has tried to warn the other exasperatedly and, well, futilely—to the surprise of no one, really. 

And unsurprisingly, Wei Wuxian still went ahead, even pulling his younger brother along to their dooms as soon as he finishes buckling his pants.

But as Jiang Cheng knows better, he has made up some excuse and ran to an unknown direction before they can all enter past the ominous doors of the seemingly well-secured armory.

Such is the story of how he has found himself in the library. The door has been ajar and Jiang Cheng has unknowingly entered. When he realized it’s a library, he simply stayed. 

(Foolish move, of course. But what use is crying over spilled milk? 

Will he cry about it when they get home though? Yes. Yes, of course.)

“Really?” The young man blocks his way, taller stature looming as he leans over, the devious smirk back on his stupid, stupid face. “Only the King and the Crown Prince can permit anyone inside this library. Pray tell, kitten, how you are so special to be permitted so freely and so easily.”

Jiang Cheng’s brows twitch. “That is none of your business.”

“You are…” the young man drawls, leaning back but raking an eye over Jiang Cheng’s tense form. “Bold. Very bold.”

“And you—” Jiang Cheng pauses at the sound of doors opening.

“Crown Prince!”

Jiang Cheng and the young man freeze, wide eyes interlocking for a moment.

Oh, shit. 

The Crown Prince is coming. 

The best move Jiang Cheng can think of doing under pressure? Pulling the Wen brat with him to hide behind one of the rows and rows of shelves. 

When survival instincts kick in, we don’t always consider the consequences of also instinctively trying to save anyone within five feet range. 

In his defense, this Wen brat better not meet the Crown Prince in case he rats Jiang Cheng out. That can happen later, sure, but only when he’s sure he can run far away to avoid the guillotine. 

Deep, hushed voices disturb the quietness of the library. Jiang Cheng tries not to give in to the impulse to take a peek. It’s too early for that. He ends up holding his breath instead and listens attentively to slow, measured footsteps heading to their direction.

“—is Highness, the Second Prince, is quite upset earlier.” 

“—His Majesty did order him to behave. He must be feeling stifled.”

“—surprised he managed to last this long.” 

Uh.

Yikes.

“This feels illegal,” Jiang Cheng can’t help but whisper to his now-partner-in-crime. 

Said partner—a very imposing figure amidst the shelves—simply raises an eyebrow and replies lightly, “Hmm. Tell me about it.” 

Jiang Cheng huffs.

When the voices sound a bit farther than earlier, he finally risks a glance. There’s three of them, as assumed from the voices. Looks to be just the guards, though. All three are taking their sweet, sweet time walking around, but mercifully, they’ve passed by without noticing anything.

“—be thankful he’s not running us to the ground with his playing around.”

“—you know, if I’d known babysitting is part of knighthood, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

The knights fall into a round of low chuckles, sometimes adding more similar comments. 

Jiang Cheng can sympathize, if only because he knows exactly what sort of person Wen Chao is, but he’s also perplexed at the sheer audacity they have. 

One of them got to be sensible enough to know that a tyrannical King has eyes and ears everywhere.

Jiang Cheng looks back to the silent Wen with him. 

“Are they… even allowed to talk about the royal family like that?”

“Why not?” the young man answers casually. “They are correct.”

Jiang Cheng stares at him in doubt. Usually, a proper Wen would take offense and waste no second to point it out for punishment. 

“But—” That's a given, goes unsaid. “That’s the royal family? I mean...” Jiang Cheng trails off when he receives another raised eyebrow and an amused smirk.

Huh. Maybe this one is not a proper, proper Wen, after all. 

“—where’s the Crown Prince, though? He was just following behind us.”

“What? Did he slip away again? Damnit. His Majesty will behead me this time.” 

Well, there goes the truth. 

“Where are you going?” Jiang Cheng asks in alarm when said Wen suddenly turns. 

He tilts his head back at Jiang Cheng’s call and smiles deviously, a big “What do you think?” plastered in his smooth fucking forehead. 

Jiang Cheng scowls. He is embarrassed to admit that he is not a very good judge of character.

“Fine. Go ahead,” he says as the other actually begins to walk away. 

He watches for a second or two and also steps back. 

Then he makes a run for it. 

Of course, he does. Why wouldn’t he? 

“Hey! Who’s there?!”

Especially now that his running alerted the knights.

Duh. 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know where he’s going as soon as he makes it out of those doors. The moment he hears footsteps running after him, he has no second to even hesitate about his direction. Whatever path he sees, he just goes. 

Fortunately, there seems to be no people around at all. It’s empty. Not even a glimpse of servants. It’s almost eerie, but he can’t not be glad for it.

Who knows what will happen to his neck if someone spots him—

“—watch it!” 

Jiang Cheng collides with something. And as the lesser between him and what has felt like a wall which he’s certain is actually a person, he bounces back. 

He groans even when there’s no actual pain. 

Great. There goes his escape. 

“You— Jiang Wanyin?” 

And who is this now? 

“Who—” 

Jiang Cheng clamps his mouth shut as soon as he looks up. Gold-trimmed clothes. Flower-like crest. Young. And handsome. Ugh. 

“Jin Zixuan.” 

He doesn’t need any more proof to be sure. The young man’s frown is enough to tell that Jiang Cheng is right.

“Why are you running around this place?” Jin Zixuan demands without even having the decency of helping him up. 

Not that he expects help. Neither does he need it. But really, this shows just how unworthy this damn peacock is of the book’s greatest jiejie. 

“None of your business,” he wants to say, but he hears footsteps and he panics instead. 

“There he is!” 

Jiang Cheng steals a glance and sees that Wen brat and the three guards approaching.

Panicked, he rises quickly and—

Hides behind Jin Zixuan. 

Yes, he’s a stuck-up arrogant jerk. But he’s also pretty. Pretty reliable.

Jin Zixuan won’t help him up like a gentleman but he’ll at least have the sense to vouch for Jiang Cheng’s life! Right?

He’s done it before in the book for a random girl when Wen Chao’s tyranny is about to get her a spot in the afterlife by drowning! That proves he at least has a sense of right and wrong?!

To his relief, Jin Zixuan doesn’t push him away, probably seeing that an important Wen is approaching. In fact, he stands straighter and then—

Bows?!

What—

“Your Highness.”

… What?

 

“—sit down, A-Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng snaps out of his daze, stiffening at a pointed gaze he correctly identifies as his mother’s. He’s keenly aware that the King is also looking at him, but he prefers not to meet the eyes of the devil so early in the morning. So, he simply sits down wherever spot a servant—wait, actually, it’s old reliable Gu Xiyang when it actually matters—pulls a chair from. 

Gee, thanks.

He doesn’t have to embarrass himself for his lack of etiquette. Yay. He’s pretty sure the chair people sit on in these long tables bear some meaning of some sort. You know, like where Yu Ziyuan is weirdly sitting at the very top right. 

That is definitely another foreshadowing to some unfortunate plot twist. 

“Eat,” the King commands shortly when everyone settles. On cue, a few strings of servants rush in to open the dish covers. 

Gu Xiyang steps to the side with some other butler-looking people in red, so it’s another servant who serves him dishes. They’re things he actually likes, but they don’t look very appetizing when side with a pint of mirthful gazes of one smirking actual Crown Prince.

Ah. 

Sigh. 

Just how stupid was he exactly? 

Of course, the actual Wen Xu is handsome and more graceful than his slimy brother. Of course, the only prince tailed around by a special knight, Wen Zhuliu most likely, is the less-strong Wen Chao. Of course, the only one capable of acting like an undignified brat when he doesn’t get his way is Wen Chao. 

It has taken a painful amount of other embarrassing events for him to figure out the Maths. But in the first place, no one cleared it up to him that not-handsome-Wen Xu is actually Wen Chao. 

So stop looking at me so menacingly!

His prayers are answered for a short while. The King says something that attracts Wen Xu’s attention. Jiang Cheng takes that chance to grab a spoonful of food and quickly shoves it down his throat. He doesn’t think he has even chewed any of the food at all. Doesn’t matter. Same nutrients anyway. 

He swallows a few spoons more before remembering to check on the strange absence of skin prickling at the back of his neck. He takes a quick glance to the side. 

And then regrets it. 

Wen Xu is looking. Has been looking, it seems, pair of amused eyes searing both fear and shame so thoroughly into Jiang Cheng's skin.

He really wants to cry. 

But at the very least, since the King is not even looking at him (honestly, he seems to barely even care about anything except for Yu Ziyuan, that formidable mother of Jiang Wanyin), so this means Wen Xu hasn’t ratted him out yet for going to the library without permission. 

Though, based from Wen Xu’s smirk, he’s definitely going to blackmail Jiang Cheng later. 

Where is Wei Wuxian when he’s needed? This situation requires genius. Again, this situation requires main character.

‘Paging, main character. What hole have you gone under?’

Finally, when the tense breakfast ends, he sees the Duchess stand and approach. His eyes light up with hope.

Mother, you are my light, my savior, my—

“I will find you later. Don’t make trouble.”

The smile is erased from his lips as quickly as it came. 

“Mother,” Jiang Cheng tries, but the Duchess tilts her head to Wen Ruohan’s awaiting figure. 

“We have more to discuss. This is very important, A-Cheng.”

Yes. Yes. 

It’s very important.

But what does that have to do with Jiang Cheng?!?

Get Jiang Fengmian or Wei Wuxian or something! 

“Mother, I’m sixteen, an omega, and an unfavored son. What importance do I bear in Wen Ruohan’s court?” 

No, he doesn’t really say that. He can only helplessly watch as his supposed mother abandons him to the evil lion’s den of equally evil cubs. 

Well, at the very least, his ever-present shadow of a butler is… present. That’s even worse though. It feels like he’s being prepared to get buried with things and possessions that superstition believes would accompany him in the afterlife. 

Jiang Cheng eyes Gu Xiyang meaningfully who eyes the, uh, walls. 

‘Look over here, you self-proclaimed loyal subject, if you’re really that courageous and get me the hell away from here.’

“Little Jiang.” He freezes. “You are coming with us.”

And that is how he learns that even Gu Xiyang’s often inappropriately inflated courage and cheekiness has a limit. Even he does not dare act rashly in front of the Crown Prince. 

Though reluctant, one look from Wen Xu’s handsome ominous smile has his legs trotting after him and his entourage of royal guards. 

Stupid traitorous legs. Also Gu Xiyang. His stupid traitorous passiveness. 

Their little group walks through a series of hallways and even past a few outdoor fountain areas before they finally stop in a pavilion over a pond with… a lot of lotuses. 

Definitely way too much lotuses for a family who lives in an area catering more to red roses.

He stands stupidly at the side as servants poured in from unknown directions to set tables, low chairs, and refreshments. Both Wen Xu and Wen Chao sit down as if it’s natural and not very strange at all to have a tea party, and right after breakfast at that, instead of making more murder plans for the next two years in some ominous dark room.

Gu Xiyang takes pity on him and tries to guide him over to a chair, but Jiang Cheng’s feet are firmly glued to the ground. 

Perhaps seeing that he’s still standing foolishly by the side, Wen Xu pats the empty chair next to him. 

“Sit, Little Jiang.” 

Jiang Cheng tries not to cringe.

Truly worthy of being Wen Rouhan’s son. 

At Gu Xiyang’s insistent push, Jiang Cheng slowly goes forward and very reluctantly takes the chair offered to him. 

Probably only half his rear is seated on it. 

Wen Xu takes notice of this, arcs an eyebrow, and raises a hand, but a pair of gloved hands move faster to lift Jiang Cheng up a little, scoot the chair a bit further, before putting him back down. 

Jiang Cheng’s manly pride be damned.

(No. It’s fine. Really. Really.)

A strange expression flashes across Wen Xu’s face as he observes the interaction between the pair of master-servant. Though he doesn’t say anything. 

“Jiang Wanyin, is it?” he drawls instead when Gu Xiyang returns to standing and playing invisible with the knights. “Relax, Jiang Cheng. This prince does not have a hobby of eating people.”

Yeah, no, don’t call me that. 

He wants to say something, but all he’s currently capable of doing in the midst of stiffness is to frown, and frown, and frown some more when a maid comes hurrying with a plate of a single lotus pod.

Wen Xu receives it with a lazy quirk of his lips and, to Jiang Cheng’s horror, plunders his fingers into the poor pod.

“You know,” the jerk has the nerve to speak nonchalantly as if he’s not stabbing at Jiang Cheng’s very heart with how much lotus seeds he’s squishing between his evil claws, “someone told this prince that lotus seeds are best eaten freshly picked. Can this Little Jiang confirm?” 

“That is correct,” Jiang Cheng answers with gritted teeth. And they’re very precious in Yunmeng!

Wen Xu smirks wider. He finishes violating the pod and tosses it carelessly back in the pond. But just when Jiang Cheng is about to sigh in relief, the Crown Prince leans down and plucks one of the full-blooming lotus. 

“This prince can see why the Jiang family prefers these tenacious plants.” 

Jiang Cheng swallows his voice each time a petal touches the ground. 

“They were beautiful, of course. But this prince only thought them decorative.”

Argh. He’s at it again. 

He’s going to plunder the pod again. He’s—

“But when they covered this murky pond, this prince saw that they can be really—”

“Let me do it!”

Jiang Cheng snatches that pod before he even realizes what he’s doing. When it dawns on him though, it’s too late. 

Sigh. 

Might as well commit to the bit. 

“Excuse this one’s rudeness, Your Highness,” he says with as much politeness as he can gather from his pinky toenail, “as a local of Yunmeng, the most efficient way to pluck out lotus seeds is this way. Just gentle squeezes.”

A seed rolls cleanly into his palm. He pinches it between his fingers and makes a point of raising it up to Wen Xu for show. 

Look here, you hopeless, ignorant, spoon-fed ikemen, he wants to say, this is how peasants do it. 

But because the heaven almighty officials enjoy some drama, the royal lips of this royal man kisses the tip of Jiang Cheng’s very peasant fingers. 

And Wen Xu has the galls to look very self-satisfied while chewing on the piece of seed he has sucked into his mouth. 

“Sweet,” he says after swallowing.

How fucking scandalous. 

Jiang Cheng ought to scream like a maiden, like he rightfully should because he is an omega, this prince is an alpha, and they are both way too single and unmated to have just gone through that soul-shattering book-cover worthy scenario. 

He is shocked. He is stunned. He is speechless.

He also wants to grip the author of this book and shake him back and forth. 

Has A-Sang written such a stupid scene before and Jiang Cheng somehow creates a butterfly effect for it to happen to him instead? 

“Well, Little Jiang, where’s the rest?”

Well, little brat, this Little Jiang is going to scratch your face. 

“Your Highness, with all due respect, please remember yourself,” comes the pointed protest from a familiar voice that no one can be bothered to listen to. One, because Wen Xu doesn’t care and will never care. Two, because Jiang Cheng stopped trying to care.

You know what? He is through. He’s done. He’s tired. He just wants to, oh he doesn’t know, go home? Sleep? GET THE FUCK BACK TO REALITY? 

“Hey, give me some too.”

Everyone forgets about Wen Chao too, usually, but oh right, he’s also fucking there, and Jiang Cheng is close to throwing the pod to his bratty face. 

“No,” denies Wen Xu lowly.

Wen Chao doesn’t listen.

Not only is he bratty, he can also be really slow-witted. He must be the number one boyfriend of death with how enthusiastically he courts it. How can he still lean over when his brother has just coldly said no the same way Wen Ruohan would probably say? 

“But you said it’s sweet, and I want one!” 

Wen Xu smiles. “I said you do not want one, dear brother.” 

As the unfortunate witness to the smile, Jiang Cheng feels a chill around his neck. 

Wen Chao grows a braincell enough to pause. He looks at his brother’s threatening smile and huffs, ultimately sitting back down. 

“Tsk. I just wanted to confirm if it’s sweet. Not because that omega is plucking it or anything. Who wants to eat that anyway? Geeze.” 

“Ah, forgive this inconsiderate brother, Chao-er,” Though Wen Xu’s pressure decreases, that chilling smile doesn’t leave his face. “My voice must have been very soft the first time I said it was sweet. But this brother will say it again for you: It is very sweet, indeed. Do you still need to confirm, little brother?”

It would take Jiang Cheng going to hell to find out what the hell these two are arguing about, but one thing is clear here: Based on how well Wen Xu can emulate his father, Jiang Cheng has no choice but comply with the subtle command to continue plucking seeds. And yes, he also cannot throw the pod at Wen Chao’s face, even if Gu Xiyang himself is visibly trying to not intercept. 

Now that damned butler knows to feel for his master? Hmph. If only he has been sensible enough like Wei Wuxian to figure out when Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to go somewhere, they wouldn’t have been here in the first place. 

“Although, little brother, do you find it strange that our little guest is behaving so well?” 

Yeah. Run that mouth more because once I sew it shut, you won’t even be able to yell help.

“One cannot help but wonder what wrong he could have done. Ah, but must this prince mind when he looks rather adorable? Reminds this prince of that chubby little street cat we saw a few months ago, doesn’t he?”

Jiang Cheng almost squeezes a seed to pulp.

Wen Chao replies with a click of his tongue, looking like he has bitten something sour. He refuses to look at said guest, but he also cannot resist his older brother’s hard stare.

Scowling, he responds aggressively, “What’s so special about you anyway? Usually, your head would be rolling on the ground by now.”

‘Yeah,’ Jiang Cheng thinks too, ‘usually, I’m not supposed to be here at all, you know?’

So, good question. Claps for Wen Chao for once!

‘Actually, Wen Chao, you can be more sensible to talk to than the silver-tongued uncle next to you. I have no idea what he’s spouting, and based on your lack of ability to match up to him, you probably don’t even understand a word he’s saying at all like how brothers usually should.’

Suppressing a tired sigh, Jiang Cheng keeps his mouth shut and simply plucks more seeds. 

Leave it to Wen Xu to keep on blabbering. 

“Ah. Chao-er, this negligent brother just realized it is hard for us to meet like this. But now that we are face-to-face, allow us brothers to have a heart-to-heart.” 

“W-What?!” Wen Chao splutters, displeasure etched into his every being as his older brother grins at his expense. “And talk about what?! We have nothing to talk about!”

(Actually… this sort of relationship somehow reminds Jiang Cheng of a certain pair of brothers called Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin. Similar dynamics, probably. Also very awkward to be a part of.)

“Come on, now, Chao-er. This brother of yours saw you snooping around dear father’s study. Mercy this clueless older brother and say what you found out.”

“You—” Wen Chao narrows his eyes skeptically at his brother. Though, one look from Wen Xu and he huffs in defeat. “I wasn’t snooping around! I was just passing by! And don’t pretend you don’t know about the naval base in Lotus Pier. You were also there when father said he wants a part of it but Jiang Fengmian refused. It’s not like it’s hard to know that it’s the Duchess who holds the real power in Lotus Pier, that’s why father is trying to trap her instead. This person here is just a bargaining chip.”

Okay—

Uh, Jiang Cheng is not… expecting that sudden information. 

That is some juicy stuff—

Should he be hearing this? Is this allowed? Is this even a secret? Will he die for being a witness?!

Wait. Did Wen Chao just say “bargaining chip”? Jiang Cheng? A what now? 

How? And who? When? Where? Most importantly, why?

Jiang Cheng looks at Gu Xiyang. Gu Xiyang stares back expressionlessly. No hope from that guy. 

Okay. 

Okay.

Let’s sort this matter with Jiang Cheng’s non-existent deduction ability: The Jiang duchy’s power comes from controlling the naval base of the kingdom. The Nies from the military. The Lans from all the inner political workings. And finally, the Jins from the money. 

If they actually band together, it would be easy to take the throne from Wen Ruohan. But the thing is, Jin Guangshan has always been a fickle-minded ass-kisser. Right now, he’s showing support to Wen Ruohan. That’s one less problem to deal with. All that is left for the King to secure his position is gain at least one more faction of power on his side. 

Both the Nies and Lans are too set in their ways that they won’t be easy to influence without bloodshed. Since Wen Ruohan can’t afford bloodshed right now, he has to try his luck with another less… bloody method before he can start doing that. 

Technically, the Jiang duchy can be considered a holder of some of the kingdom’s military power, even if that’s more meant for water battles. Who says navy forces can’t help on land? And on top of Yu Ziyuan’s political influence, the Jiang family is known for not being as set in their ways as the other nobilities. So they are just the perfect missing puzzle to completing Wen Ruohan’s tyrannical missions.

Also, the Jiang duchy’s heir is an omega. 

Oh.

Oh sh—

Is that what Wen Chao has meant with “bargaining chip”?!

“Your Highnesses!” 

Thank you, interruption. I really needed that. 

His brain is near exploding the more he spirals into this political bullshit. 

This is a deep hole that will hurt if he falls in. He really has to leave, then, huh? 

He doesn’t think he has the courage to wait around for Jiang Wanyin’s mother to decide if he’s worth selling away or not. That—

That’s going to be a really big betrayal when it comes down to it.

“Excuse my intrusion, Your Highnesses, but the Lord Lanling is seeking an audience with you.” 

A knight kneels before them, sweaty and still breathing heavily. Since he even ran all the way, then there must be an emergency? 

Jiang Cheng finally, finally, puts down the lotus pod as he waits for more information. He hopes it’s something bad. Only something bad can potentially get him away from these two. 

“Jin Zixuan?” Wen Xu raises a brow, looking both part curious and part disinterested. What’s up with this walking contradiction of a prince? Can’t even decide on one expression. “What does he need?” 

“This one doesn’t know, Your Highness, but the Young Lord says it is of some urgency.”

“Some urgency?” Wen Xu repeats. The knight trembles a little but answers with firm affirmation. Wen Xu rises. “Alright, lead us to him.”

Yes! 

“You should come, Jiang Cheng. Jin Zixuan, that high and mighty little Lord, does not often do this. It might be interesting.” 

Well, fuck you too. 

“—your flowery words aside, Lord Lanling, though they are appreciated. You want to take the Little Jiang from this prince in the middle of our equally important meeting?”

Oh, boy. Jiang Cheng is so glad to see another pretty face even if it’s Jin Zixuan. He will not admit it out loud, though.

His means of escaping does not seem very promising, however. If even Wen Chao, his evil little brother, can’t stand up to him when he wears that guillotine-promising smile, how can a mere lord do it? 

“Forgive this subject’s rudeness this once, Your Highness,” Jin Zixuan replies smoothly and still politely as if he’s not just insulted and threatened in one sentence. “This is a private matter between our families, where the Young Lord Jiang’s presence is required as heir to the family and brother to the subject of the discussion.” He bows even lower—lowest one can go for a noble of his standing—and adds, a touch more quietly, “On top of that, this subject believes Your Highness would not overlook the fact that it is highly improper for an unmated omega, especially of Young Lord Jiang’s standing, to find himself unattended like this.”

Damn. 

The peacock actually has more to his character than shown. 

I will keep an eye on you, Jin. Jiang Cheng bites his tongue to refrain from bursting out into laughter. You might be useful in the future.

It is rare to find someone who can actually openly oppose Wen Xu, and without throwing nobility positions around, too.

“Well,” Wen Xu begins, the atmosphere dropping at his deceptively neutral tone. Wen Chao is scowling behind him and acting as if he’s been the one whose pride is just stepped on. To his credit, he keeps silent over there.

Finally, Wen Xu’s smile reverts to that annoying playful arrogance. 

“Since Lord Lanling worded it so well, how can this prince argue?” He turns to Jiang Cheng and dares put a hand on his head. He refrains from taking that arm and breaking it. Barely a second passes and a gloved hand teleports him to Jin Zixuan’s side. Wen Xu raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on the audacity. “Go along, now, Little Jiang. This prince is expecting a grand wedding to happen soon.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t need to be told twice. 

He doesn’t exactly run this time, but it does feel like it with how his heart is drumming so loudly. He hasn’t even noticed it until they’re far enough. 

He only does when he realizes that Jin Zixuan has managed to get him out of that stuffy palace and back into the more manageable castle for outsiders guests where he should have belonged in the first place.

But—

“Isn’t mother more appropriate if you needed a witness for that discussion you mentioned earlier?” Jiang Cheng asks as soon as Jin Zixuan shows signs of ending this farce and slowing down his walking. They have reached an intersection and he supposes it’s where they will part ways. “Tell me the truth, why did you come for me?” 

Surprisingly, Jin Zixuan faces him with hints of uncertainty rather than the arrogance he expects. 

“That Wei Wuxian,” he begins carefully, almost unwillingly. Probably sour over the main character given their relationship. Jiang Cheng thinks he can sympathize. “He requested it as a favor.”

Woah—

Woah, woah, woah. 

Wei Wuxian? Asking for favors? 

Jiang Cheng stares bewildered at Gu Xiyang. Again, Gu Xiyang simply stares back blankly. Tsk. Hopeless guy as always.

Anyway. 

Gasp! Has the world ended? Has that guy run into some dire circumstance? The only times one Wei Wuxian would admit to needing favors is if he runs into a dead end. That never happens, unless Lotus Pier is burned into crisp. Besides, in a case of spiriting Jiang Cheng away from Wens, he’s good at simply breaking the rules to do so and then getting away with it anyway.

Even then, he is too undiplomatic to know which person to ask correctly in this situation. If he hates someone, like this Jin Zixuan over here, he would have to lose his memories before he could even consider asking favors from them.

(Where is the script? Jiang Cheng cries at no one in particular because fate can’t be bothered to give him a system at least. Where are the lines? The plot? The characterizations?)

Something must have shown in his face because Jin Zixuan sighs and begins to explain, “You know what happened between me and your sister. You also know that I have been trying to apologize for it. Wei Wuxian took oath to not interfere again in exchange for taking you out.”

Jiang Cheng blinks. Okay. Another… new information attack. That’s fine. 

“But I have also been meaning to speak to you too. However, we rarely pass by each other, so I want to take this chance to ask you if it is true.”

What is true? What? What is it?! That Jiang Cheng is not from this world? Ha-ha. 

“Wei Wuxian said something before that—” Jin Zixuan abruptly cuts himself off. His unsure expression morphs into something strange, and then a wince, and then a slow, creeping heat that is barely-there but when they’re standing this close, it’s easy to spot. Ew. Is this what they call shyness? “Y-Your sister… uh, she holds… feelings for…”

In the end, the big bratty Grand Duke’s heir cannot finish that sentence. Jiang Cheng forgot this guy can be a big sissy when it comes to these things.

Well, then. 

Jiang Cheng takes pity on the man and decides to ignore his floundering. Instead, he shoots back, “Do you believe it?” 

Jin Zixuan opens his mouth but closes it again. He is silent for a few seconds before swallowing. 

He replies slowly, “It is hard to believe when Wei Wuxian says it.” 

Fair.

“Not to mention, she is older, too,” he adds a bit more delicately. Jiang Cheng almost shoots up in defense, but Jin Zixuan smartly backtracks, “I do not mean it that way, but I cannot begin to understand what she would see in me, who is younger. We do not have a lot in common enough to relate with each other.”

This arrogant alpha’s usually proud shoulders lower a little as though defeated. He is not an insecure man, that much is clear when he overestimates his market price constantly in front of Jiang Yanli, but perhaps, perhaps he is not as ungrounded to reality.

“And Young Lord Jiang, do you believe that your sister will like someone for their looks, noble standing, and wealth?”

That is true. Jiang Yanli does not look at all those superficial things. 

Instead… Jiang Cheng observes Jin Zixuan matter-of-fact expression as he continues subtly self-deprecating himself and thinks, She looks at character above all. 

“Even if in a scenario where she values those things, the first men she would have considered are Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen who are, at the very least, around her age.”

Dummy. 

“That’s true,” Jiang Cheng interrupts before the other can spiral further into his pity-party, “but you can’t really dictate the heart, Jin Zixuan. Sometimes, it chooses what it wants and there’s nothing you can do.”

Well, he thinks he can see now traces of the man that Jiang Yanli’s heart has chosen. 

“And it goes for you, too, you stupid Lord. If you cannot find it in yourself to love her, then there is really no helping it because you can’t force love.”

Even if it makes her sad. Even if Jiang Cheng is angry for her. It is never the solution to force them together. Otherwise, it’s just another Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. Or Jin Guangshan and Duchess Jin.

Better Jiang Yanli cries now than forever.

Jin Zixuan simply looks at him for a whole minute. Then he says quietly after, “You sound very knowledgeable about matters of the heart.” 

Jiang Cheng tries not to wince. Actually, I’m just parroting a few bullshit I heard from work.

“I do not like what you’re trying to imply,” Jiang Cheng gruffs instead. “I don’t have experience, but I have eyes that can see things, you know.”

“See what thing?” 

Holy— 

Jiang Cheng jumps in freight. This gremlin is a living jump scare!

“Took you long enough, Jin Zixuan! Here I thought you wouldn’t be brave enough!” 

As expected, Jin Zixuan’s other personalities revert back to his static arrogant frown as soon as one Wei Wuxian comes into view. To his credit, he denies the other a reply that may more or less devolve into a brawl. 

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. Alphas.

“A-Cheng.” 

“Du— Father!” 

“—and Lord Lanling.” Jiang Fengmian appears from around the corner with a pair of tired eyes and a brittle smile. He turns to Jin Zixuan first. “Wuxian told me about your agreement. Our family appreciates your help.”

Jin Zixuan dutifully bows, murmurs a few humble replies, and excuses himself. Jiang Cheng watches the interaction blankly until the Duke’s eyes search his. 

“You have returned,” he says, brittle smile now a touch warmer. He gestures mildly at the very empty space next to Jiang Cheng. “And your mother?”

Jiang Cheng can also feel Wei Wuxian’s questioning gaze. 

Right. 

These two must have been restless in their waiting. 

It has been easy to forget that being there at all is a delicate matter while he is pulled around all sorts of antics he can make fun of to cope. But now that he is faced with both Jiang Fengmian and Wei Wuxian’s concealed agitation (that he can surprisingly see), he is hit, yet again, with the reality of what he has just found out back there. 

Yu Ziyuan is still likely being forced into an agreement by the King. The Jiang duchy is at risk of being the first example of Wen Ruohan’s display of power. And Jiang Cheng may or may not be the bargaining chip in the middle of this all.

So running away… Jiang Cheng presses his lips together in a thin line. Sigh.

He forces a passive expression and replies, “Mother is still speaking with His Majesty. But she should return today.”

Jiang Fengmian closes his eyes. A difficult expression passes his face, but it disappears as soon as he opens his eyes again.

He sighs and maintains a more convincing smile this time.

“Very well. What about you, son? I heard you haven’t had a fulfilling breakfast. Would you like to join me for lunch?” 

Jiang Cheng glares at Gu Xiyang’s pretentious smile. 

As the kingdom’s glamour zone, Jiang Cheng is surprised to find a corner of the capital more alive in the way cities in books often are—noisy, colorful, chaotic. Unlike the more sophisticated, glassy buildings leading to the Nightless City, the market here looks more like a proper market, complete with unique banners fluttering and stretching all painted curling scripts and sigils of local vendors. 

The air is more thick with the smell of spices and the occasional whiff of horse dung rather than pheromones. And shopkeepers are far from shy as they shout about their wares. There are even children darting through the crowds with sticky fingers and half-eaten sweets.

Jiang Cheng blinks at everything with wide, fascinated eyes.

His jaw might’ve dropped straight to the cobblestone path, but who cares? This is proper civilization, ladies and gentlemen! 

After days of quartz pillars, marbled tiles, and worrying if he’s Jiang Wanyin enough, seeing actual people elbow each other for the best apple is practically poetic.

As for why he would be there. Well, it is the work of one Wei Wuxian, of course! There is also Wen Ning, their tour guide, and Gu Xiyang because of course. And… Jin Zixuan. 

How that guy somehow strung along is a mystery in itself. But he’s already here, and they’re already there. There is no law preventing any nobility to prevent another nobility from walking the same ground as them. 

The royal family can probably achieve that though.

“There you are!” An arm is slung around his shoulder like a fisherman hauling in a fresh catch. Except, this is the third time he has caught the same fish called Jiang Cheng. “You’ve got to come with me, A-Cheng, there’s another wine stall here that’ll blow your mind! It’s fermented with rose petals and regret—probably.”

Jiang Cheng groans. “You’ve dragged me through four wine stalls already. I’ve had enough fermented regret for the day.”

But his protests are no match for one Wei Wuxian’s enthusiasm, and soon enough, he is being bodily dragged toward another stall stacked with jars painted in faded red and gold. Wen Ning trails behind looking vaguely guilty and apologetic on behalf of his comrade. Jin Zixuan is also hovering at a dignified distance with his pair of knights. He looks sullen with arms crossed and a flat expression, but at the very least, he hasn’t ruined the day yet with his attitude.

“This one,” Wei Wuxian declares just as they are a meter or two away from a very ordinary-looking wine stall, “is aged for thirteen years, buried under the root of a peach tree struck by lightning. The lightning imparts a smoky flavor. Trust me, I read it in an ancient scroll. Somewhere.”

Jiang Cheng stares at the little shit flatly. “Yes. Because lightning is a realistic component to wine-making.”

Wei Wuxian gasps. “Didi, didn’t you know?”

As if it’s a capital crime to not know something that is not in his job description. Jiang Cheng is a barista, not a bartender.

“Worry not, this knowledgeable gege will educate you, so listen well! The electrochemical influence of high-energy plasma events on polyphenolic structures is a cutting-edge field! When lightning strikes on land, it ionizes the soil. This alters the mineral uptake of plants around, like grapevines, and boosts potassium and magnesium levels. This affects the pH balance of the must during fermentation.”

He’s in full lecture mode now, oblivious to Jiang Cheng’s deepening scowl.

“And! The residual electromagnetic fields supposedly affect the yeast metabolism, increasing the production of glycerol and certain esters that give the wine a smoother mouthfeel and enhanced aroma complexity. There are entire textbooks on this. I’ll lend them to you sometime.”

Not to speak of wine-making, Jiang Cheng knows he hasn’t been the best student in his Science classes. He doesn’t even remember attending one. Literally.

So, how could he understand electrochemical activity and ion mechanics?

Mercifully, Wei Wuxian notices his confusion and stops blabbering all at once. Smiling sheepishly, he says more slowly, “I mean, in simpler terms, the lightning sort of... supercharges the soil, so the grapes or other fruits grow with more character. Then during fermentation, the residual energy supposedly nudges the yeast to produce richer flavors. Totally natural. Perfectly safe. Probably.”

Jiang Cheng narrows his gaze at that perfectly charming smile. Totally innocent. Certainly no amount of bluffing in sight. 

Finally, after a few seconds of Wei Wuxian maintaining a pleasant expression, Jiang Cheng reluctantly nods. “... So this is a rare produce, then?”

He knows at least that lightning strikes on ground aren’t exactly as common as thunders echoing thousands of distances.

“No,” says a flat voice behind him. Jiang Cheng turns and sees Jin Zixuan recovering from his brooding and approaching a little closer. “Because that sort of wine is not produced at all. Wei Wuxian, you have not changed at all. You are still shamelessly making up nonsense and tricking others.”

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue. “And when did you become a wine alchemist, Jin Zixuan?”

“Tsk. Everyone knows lightning has nothing to do with wine-making.”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” When Jiang Cheng actually raises an eyebrow, Wei Wuxian gasps in betrayal and subsequently rushes to find an ally. “Can you believe this peacock, Wen Ning?! I’ve already said all the scientific back-up and he still claims otherwise with just a single sentence!”

Unfortunately, said ally can’t even look at him straight in the eye as he slowly answers, “W-Well… i-it is common knowledge t-that lightning can s-set trees a-and plants on fire w-when striking instead…”

“Wen Ning!” comes the heartbroken cry. “You were supposed to be on my side!”

Sigh.

Jiang Cheng thinks he’s long past the point of even feeling anything at all about the fact that he almost believed that bullshit. 

What do you know? Since roses can’t be black in this world, then lightning can’t also be caught in a bottle.

“Go argue with someone else. I’m going to find a stall that is actually interesting.”

Let it be said that when the main character is having his moment, there is no catching his attention. Jiang Cheng is very happy about it, though. As such, he leaves Wei Wuxian, Jin Zixuan, and Wen Ning to argue their alpha arguments and actually enjoy this whatever sort of outing this is. 

—with Gu Xiyang. 

Alone would be nice, but eh. The butler is good at pretending he’s not there, pretending he knows nothing, pretending he’s not good at being pretentious. In any case, safety is also better than nice.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s delightfully lost in a sea of unfamiliar trinkets and devices. One stall is displaying what are most definitely children toys, mostly stringed origami, that Jiang Cheng has unabashedly bought more than ten of. Anything that vaguely looks like a dog, he takes it. Anything that seems to contain more mechanism such as being able to spin, or flap, or bloom, he grabs it. Anything purple, he is certain to make a purchase of.

When he hops to another stall with a table of assortment, he manages to unearth a palm-sized mirror shaped like an animal paw. Not a dog, but very enticing. So he buys that one too. Next, is a glinting stand to his right advertising “self-inking quills”. Needless to say, he claims he needs a supply of that, too.

“My Lord,” his long-suffering butler says, expression already buried behind a mountain of his master’s random purchases carefully balanced on his arms, “I advise moderation.”

Said master is too busy biting into something that tastes vaguely like candied ginger but is suspiciously green. Not bad. Not very revolutionary either, however. 

The walking does catch up to him eventually, to the relief of Gu Xiyang. He is led to the entrance of what seems to be a food establishment and advised to wait in one of the private rooms while his butler brings his purchases back to the carriage as well as locate his supposed body-guard, his body-guard’s own body-guard, and his, uh, future brother-in-law.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t listen though. 

As soon as Gu Xiyang is out of sight, the clouds gather across the sky and leaves a single hole for the sun to shine down a particular stall just across the establishment. It’s very bright, alright, and most definitely heaven chosen, or else why would it look so inviting?

Jiang Cheng, now a substitute brother, is not fond of rouge and hairpins but Jiang Yanli might be. Even if she’s not, the thought should count.

It’s part of the essence of siblinghood, isn’t it?

They will surely take long to come, anyway. What with Wei Wuxian with them. 

He informs a flustered server that he will return before making his way to the stall. When he makes it across, the stall owner’s knowing gaze makes him flush. 

“Welcome, Young Master! For a maiden?”

“Hello. Yes, for my sister,” he clears up immediately. “Do you recommend anything?” 

The stall owner’s eyes sparkle with enthusiasm as she points at a few things among her display. Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what they are exactly, however. Uh, gemstones? 

“Yes, yes, of course! Here. The Young Master can take a look at these ribbons and brooches. They are popular choices among maidens and are appropriate to be gifted by siblings. If the Young Miss likes embroidery, there are a few embroidery pieces too from one of the well-known embroidery houses.”

“Oh. Then…” Jiang Cheng looks over the shiny things laid out before him with some contemplation. He’s not ashamed to admit all of them look the same in his eyes. Oh, well. “What about thi—”

He pauses midway pointing at a purple brooch. He sniffs once, twice, then looks up. There are stringed pouches hanging just above his head.

“What are these?” he asks as he reaches out for one. They smell damn good. 

“Oh! They are scent pouches, Young Master. Some mixes of herb and other aromatic leaves. Actually, although not conventional, scent pouches are also good for gifting if the Young Miss likes them. The Young Master can sample one.”

Is this what Jiang Yanli’s been carrying with her to smell like lavender?

“Yes, please.” Jiang Cheng rises on his toes to undo the knot. But just as he’s about to pull a string, another hand seizes his wrist.

He tilts his head to look at the insolent person only to tense at the sight of a suspicious hooded person. 

Thief?!

At once, every nerve in his body snaps alert. He steps back into his heels for balance and yanks his hand away. 

His hand is seized again. 

He yells something like a curse and tries pulling back, yet again—only to be pulled forward instead.

The stranger is tall—taller than him by a good margin—that he runs into the other’s clavicle. But his height works to his favor because when he tilts his head up, he catches a glimpse beneath the hood.

“You!”

Wen Xu presses a finger to his grinning lips.

Revolted, Jiang Cheng scowls and pushes the obstructing chest before him. Unfortunately, Wen Xu is really as sturdy as he looks. He is barely even nudged.

“Not even a minute and already pushing this prince away, Little Jiang?” Wen Xu, the absolute disgusting, appalling, annoying alpha that he is, reaches out for Jiang Cheng’s waist to prevent him from running away. “That won’t do. This prince just so happened to need a guide. Little Jiang will have to walk this hopeless prince around.”

“What?!” Jiang Cheng snaps but a warning squeeze around his waist reminds him that his choices are either guillotine or forcing polite. He chooses life. “How come a guide is needed when Your Highness grew up here?”

Actually, no. He can die if that’s the only way to rid his skin of this bastard’s touch. 

“—And why would I walk you around? Can’t you walk around yourself? This is your territory so you know your way!”

As for when he has gotten the courage, he doesn’t know.

Wen Xu seems more amused than angry, thankfully. 

“Ah, but it is exactly that this is my territory that I am a little hurt that you would arrange an exclusive gathering without me.” Wen Xu leans down until his breath is fanning against Jiang Cheng’s ear. In a mischievous tone, he whispers, “Did you know it is equated to treason if you hurt the Crown Prince’s feelings?”

Hurt your feelings, my ass. “That’s not even written in the law!”

“Law?” He chuckles. “This prince is the law, Little Jiang.”

“...”

“Or shall this prince remind you as well of your other offense?”

“... Great. Now you’re blackmailing me.”

“Call it… generosity.”

Jiang Cheng glares up to the evil man before him until a flash of someone familiar prompts him to look another way. 

Gu Xiyang!

He-he. Swallow your generosity yourself! 

“Xiyang-ge! Help—”

Too late.

A swirl of black cloak and suddenly, he is not in the middle of the market anymore. He is pulled down another alley, effectively vanishing from view.

Wen Xu finally lets go of him, but it’s useless because he is leaning against a wall and the evil prince is very close in front of him. 

If this is a low-budget attempt at a kabedon scene, then he does not want it. 

“It’s the merciful punishment or the cruel one, Little Jiang.”

Need he really say what happens next? 

Of course, by some miracle, a group of masked men come tumbling out their secret hiding spot to begin a fight. Wen Xu’s secret knights immediately uncover themselves to defend. But because this is fiction and Jiang Cheng’s transmigration caused a butterfly effect, some hidden powerful character appears to save the day. 

Yeah, right. I wish.

His walk of shame begins in another part of the market he hasn’t yet gone to. He is stiff, angry, and very unwilling, clearly, but because they are holding hands, it doesn’t even cross the mind of the townsfolk that maybe that well-dressed, clearly important omega is being kidnapped by a suspicious hooded figure who seems like an alpha.

If anything, stall owners who sell courtship gifts are grinning knowingly as they very discreetly push a few bottles to the front of their displays.

Jiang Cheng is not going to guess what those are. He just wants the cobblestones to swallow him whole and maybe bring him back to the real world.

At least, they are nearing the end of the street! Finally.

“You better stop this farce at the end of that— Hey!”

Because chivalry is apparently dead to Wen Xu (he probably personally sentenced that poor concept to death), he continues dragging, and pulling, and pushing Jiang Cheng around a corner then inside an establishment. 

Oh.

It smells pleasant inside, though. There’s nothing that noteworthy and neither does it seem like they are selling anything because it’s empty, but Jiang Cheng thinks he can recognize the single row of stringed pouches lined on a wall.

This kingdom’s equivalent of a perfumery, maybe? There are bottles of liquid on the counter too, after all.

So this Crown Prince is into this thing?

Hey, no judgment. 

Jiang Cheng strays off to a corner as soon as Wen Xu lets go of him to speak to the shop owner. He has just spotted a dark violet pouch embroidered with cranes and it’s calling out very pitifully at him. He runs a finger around the embroidery but shakes his head soon after. Nope. He’s not buying anything in the presence of the devil lest he mistakes that Jiang Cheng is enjoying his punishment. 

He is not. No. 

He’ll probably return for it though. Make Gu Xiyang buy it. Jiang Yanli will definitely like it.

“Little Jiang.” Jiang Cheng glances at the call, frowning at Wen Xu’s motion for him to get close. He obliges anyway. “What—?”

Wen Xu deposits a packet into his coat’s left pocket and pats it once. 

Smirking, he says, “Remember this prince when you use it.”

Jiang Cheng blinks. Once. Twice. Then glances at the shop owner’s amicable smile. What even is it? A condom? Do condoms even exist here?

A storm of voices burst from outside the shop.

Jiang Cheng perks up, condom forgotten as he rushes outside. 

“Wei Wuxian!” He can never mistake that voice for anyone. It’s a hard task even if he wants to. 

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian is marching like a furious rooster, flanked by Gu Xiyang, Wen Ning, and a frowning—when does he ever not frown—Jin Zixuan. “Where have you been—”

The group pause in synchrony as their eyes all dart to something at the back of Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian’s hand flies to his sword. 

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng warns immediately. He appreciates the concern, but it’s too early for the main character to start the plot by killing the throne heir in broad daylight. Sighing, he looks back just in time for the hooded figure behind him to raise his gaze high enough for his face to show.

“…Oh.”

Wen Xu flashes them a lazy grin and ruffles Jiang Cheng’s hair. “Well-served, Little Jiang. Until next time.”

He vanishes down the road like a wraith, leaving behind four mortified young masters and one disgusted Jiang Cheng. Wen Xu could have just patted his shoulder if he wanted skin contact so bad. Ugh. Honestly.

“That dead bastard!” Wuxian explodes first. “What did he do to you?! Where did he touch you?! Did he curse you?! Mr. Gu, check this packet! Is it laced?!”

Taking the condom from Wei Wuxian, Gu Xiyang simply holds it and instead narrows his eyes at Jiang Cheng. 

Hey! Don’t blame me! It was Wen Xu who dragged me away! 

“Are you hurt?” the butler asks. Ew. Jiang Cheng wishes he blames him instead.

“Wen Ning, do you know any way to reach an assassin guild?!”

Wen Ning laughs nervously. “Young Master Wei, I don't think—”

“Peacock, you have to know something!”

“What makes you think I'm involved with those people?!”

“You have too much money no way some of them didn't come from shady business—”

Needless to say, such an event has dampened their moods. Gu Xiyang manages to restrain the increasingly feral main character back to the carriage. 

And while returning is a relief, Jiang Cheng is not happy to hear his butler and future knight captain discuss a thousand ways of preventing the same thing from happening again as if the subject of their discussion is not in front of them. (Also, it is definitely treason to even be discussing multiple assassination ways of the Crown Prince.)

They do not stop even as they arrive. Gu Xiyang promptly helps him down and leaves him to his own devices as he attends to Jiang Cheng’s purchases while still talking it down with Wei Wuxian. 

That leaves him awkwardly walking with Jin Zixuan since Wen Ning has immediately excused himself the moment they touch the castle gates. Wei Wuxian has not even seemed to care as much about his friend as he has their first meeting.

Look at him stumble and scrambling to catch one of Jiang Cheng's more expensive purchases. Some dignified main character he is.

Jiang Cheng sighs in exasperation.

“Jiang Wanyin.”

“Huh?” Jiang Cheng turns to his side, raising an eyebrow when he sees that it’s Jin Zixuan. The guy hasn’t really spoken until now, just quietly trailing behind like his dutiful knights.

“Steer clear of him.”

“What?”

Jin Zixuan stares back contemplatively, then continues slowly, “Unsavory rumors surrounding an unmated individual is not a good reputation.”

“...”

“Not to mention, the Crown Prince is a person who is… very complex.”

Chapter Text

“Now that’s over…” Jiang Cheng sighs. “Long been over with.”

Right. Over. So, he should be allowed to worry about everything for another time. Or not at all. He doesn’t think there is any point worrying about the way things are progressing… differently. Maybe not exactly differently, just unexpectedly.

“Should I be worried?”

Jiang Cheng glances briefly at the perplexed butler. “What is it now?”

“Ah, I should be, for certain,” Gu Xiyang resumes muttering, a gloved finger under his chin as he begins pacing around. “Let’s see… Constant mumbling to one’s self, muttering strange things, dazing on a near hourly basis, peculiar expressions—not to mention such a crooked smile. I wonder what illness all that could lead to.”

“…” Who’s talking to himself now, huh? Jiang Cheng scoffs, “Whatever.”

That said, it’s strange not having to do anything with his hands. The Duchess—nor the Duke, really—still hasn’t given him anything to do. At all. And supposedly, he is the heir. 

Not that it’s bad. Less entanglement, easier escape. But it’s unlike him to be idle.

He doesn’t remember there ever being a day he has found himself idle, not especially when he has a child to raise and send to school and a grandmother to please by going to college. It certainly hasn’t been all too easy with a minimum wage part-time job.

Granted, popo isn’t one to have her dignity insulted. As the elder of the house, she has long saved up for Song Lan’s schooling, and coupled with her retirement funds, she’s able to afford the three of them a steady stream of water, electricity, and three meals a day. They live in an ancestral house, an old temple divided up and sold leaving only the main house, so rent is not a problem. 

However, being no more a teen and having each a pair of hands and feet, how can Jiang Cheng, a grown adult and clearly able-bodied, not claim his place as the man of the house?

Thus, even when it’s little, and even when popo insists he saves all of it up, he still tries to help with the expenses. Finding a job without a university diploma has drawn him some setback, so he has had to make do with what accepts him as he is. It’s why A-Sang’s offer has almost felt like a goldmine to him. And it has helped a great deal despite their arrangement only going on for two weeks since he has started. 

Should’ve known great things don’t come so freely like that, Jiang Cheng thinks wryly. 

It’s not that he has unknowingly entered the job without some doubts. He can afford his internet, yes, so it’s not particularly hard to search up the average rate of written translations. A-Sang’s offer more than surpasses what could have been, even if his efforts to proofread is added. Alas, Jiang Cheng’s desperation has led him to make some choices. 

Some very mediocre choices, clearly.

Jiang Cheng has dreamed of being more, and certainly not just once or twice. He has seen what privilege does, and it hasn’t been pleasant being the one biting the dust, so he has wished. 

But not like this! He looks around the literal goldmine his arrangement with A-Sang has materialized into and repeats: Never like this. 

Left and right is either gold, rubies, or antiques he knows are bound to be encased in museums if this world’s future is like anything back in the real world. These decorations alone could make any commoner live his life without doing anything, and Jiang Wanyin has more than just these decorations. 

He knows this body of his has his own funds by all his right as the son of a nobility. His inheritance is a whole other thing. Being an omega on top of all that, Jiang Wanyin can live like a prince if he so desires. And Jiang Wanyin is now Jiang Cheng, so Jiang Cheng can live like a prince if he, too, so desires. 

Except, it’s maddening. Sitting around and doing nothing is maddening. 

He doesn’t think he can enjoy a life served to him on a golden platter if it doesn’t pay Song Lan and popo’s bills. For heaven’s sake, he’s fucking dead on that side!

Jiang Cheng stands abruptly and declares, “I want to get away.”

Gu Xiyang blinks. “Today’s musings are done, I see?”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth, closes it back, then closes his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Then he repeats, “I need to get away. Do something. Fresh air. Stretch my limbs. Something else. I don’t know. Anything.” 

“Hmn.” Gu Xiyang sits him down with a smooth wave of his hand. He stations himself in front of Jiang Cheng when he settles and doesn’t even question anything as he lists a few suggestions: “Well, there are a few things waiting to be done. For example, the Count of Laoling is seeking help for a domestic matt—”

Jiang Cheng immediately waves his hand. “Not that.”

“Baron Yao is holding a party—” 

Jiang Cheng grimaces. “Nope.” 

“The Count of Baling is—” 

“Next.”

“The Marchioness of Meishan—”

“Grandmother?” Jiang Cheng finally perks up.

“Yes,” Gu Xiyang confirms pointedly, and Jiang Cheng immediately shuts up and gestures for the other to continue. “As I was saying, your grandmother has been inviting your mother for hunting, but Her Grace is swarmed lately with work she hasn’t been able to respond. She would be happy to see you go in your mother’s place.”

 Interesting—then he deflates—but if it’s a Yu, then it’s just another Yu Ziyuan to deal with. 

That would be unfortunate. (Besides, he doesn’t know how to hunt. Whatever that thing is.)

Huffing, he refuses, “Maybe next time.”

Gu Xiyang nods in sympathy, earning Jiang Cheng’s curiosity. Is she that bad? But the butler prattles on:

“Then, for a more urgent matter, His Highness, Prince Wen Xu, has also been sending quite a dozen of letters for… lotus seeds. Her Grace is quite bemused; she hasn’t known what to do up until now.”

Disregarding the clearly least interesting news out of everything, a stray thought makes Jiang Cheng pause. “What’s the Duke doing?”

The butler misses a beat as he, too, seems to be reminded of another Jiang, a better Duke than he is a father, who can do the bidding. However, his answer is just as disappointing, “Handling military affairs. For days now.”

“Oh.”

“Would you like to deal with His Highness on behalf of your mother?”

Jiang Cheng’s lips twitch. 

“No.” As if. “Anything else? Anything but those?” 

Anything but the plot. 

Perhaps sensing his growing impatience, Gu Xiyang diverges smartly, “There is one more thing waiting to be done. A village down south reported suspicious activities along the borders—” 

Jiang Cheng grins. 

“Let’s do that!”

“Absolutely not!” 

Who else shouts that if not—

Actually, this one is rather surprising. 

It’s not Jiang Yanli. She doesn’t raise her voice. But it’s not Wei Wuxian either. Yes, it’s also not even Yu Ziyuan. 

It’s—Jiang Cheng wants to gag—Jiang Fengmian. 

“Was it you who brought him up to this?” Yu Ziyuan speaks this time, lightning eyes narrowing in on Gu Xiyang’s breezy expression. Though she doesn’t shout, her tone is icy enough to induce the same effect—to Jiang Cheng, that is. The butler is apparently not affected. Huh. Is that an alpha thing or what? 

“Forgive me, Your Grace. It’s just that the Young Lord has begged near crying to help, seeing as work is piling on your desk. How can this lowly one not be moved by such filial piety?”

“GU XIYANG!” Jiang Cheng nearly growls. “YOU LITTLE—” 

“Do you really want to take on this matter?” Yu Ziyuan cuts between them before Jiang Cheng can kill the biggest liar in this novel. Not even Wen Ruohan can match up. In fact, he doesn’t lie. All the villains, he realizes, are pretty upfront with what they want.

That aside, Jiang Cheng nods eagerly and replies, “Yes, mother.”

Yu Ziyuan gazes at him for a few seconds, then just as she opens her mouth, Jiang Fengmian aggressively interrupts, much to everyone’s surprise. 

“No. My Lady, it’s not a simple matter. We cannot send A-Cheng, or—” 

Yu Ziyuan bristles. Her seemingly satisfied expression contorts. “Or what? Or what, Fengmian? What is it now that you see as a problem? Why can’t we send him?”

“A-Cheng may get hurt!” Jiang Fengmian expresses almost exasperatedly that Jiang Cheng is stunned with how much personality that single line gives him compared to every scene he has in the damned book. 

‘Oh my god. Oh my god. Is it happening? Is this the moment where the delusional transmigrated character finally realizes that these people aren’t just fictional characters but are actual people right now?’ 

But oh, Jiang Cheng also realizes that he is the transmigrated character in this case, and he is, by no means, delusional. Hmph. He has established at day one that this is now the new reality where people—including him—can bleed and die, has he not?

Still, it’s such a strange experience to watch this person called father of Jiang Wanyin suddenly express concerns that sound like genuine concerns. Concerns for his son rather than concerns of his son not being able to do things right.

“Are you saying my son is incapable?!” Yu Ziyuan’s powerful roar wakes Jiang Cheng up from his daydream—

Only for him to fall right back in. 

Not that it’s anything new, but this arguing pair are both acting even more strange than when they got along. Granted, they’re known for their failure of a relationship, but they’ve also been trying to get along since Jiang Cheng transmigrated. 

What on earth has one of them done that they’re back to this? Ever since they came back from Nightless City, there’s something in the air between the two. Jiang Cheng hasn’t cared then (He has been missing Xiao Sandu, and Xiao Sandu is more important), and he’s not going to care now, but if they keep at it, whatever situation there in that village might as well resolve itself before they get anywhere to agreeing. 

Shaking his head, Jiang Cheng snatches the arm of a surprised Gu Xiyang and drags him outside with whatever swiftness he possesses. 

“Since mother agreed, let’s go!” 

Gu Xiyang takes Jiang Cheng’s unruly paw off his now-crumpled sleeve and keeps it tightly between his gloved hands before it escapes to another mischief.

“How adorable to see you excited, but how do you propose getting there?”

“…Uh, by horse?” Obviously?

“I see.” Gu Xiyang closes his eyes as he smiles serenely. “My Lord thinks it’s as easy as taking two horses and escaping off?”

“Horses are faster?” 

Again, obviously. A carriage will take long. And the problem in that village sounded urgent.

“As I thought.” Gu Xiyang’s smile sharpens. He pulls on the hand he’s holding, and Jiang Cheng yelps as he finds himself being dragged so suddenly.

“Your self-preservation is truly astounding. Not to mention His Grace’s display of worry, Her Grace will not have you escaping like a young man on elopement. Never think of it; I did not stay by your side for a decade only to wish my head served on a plate. You will be needing a carriage, escorts of at least twelve knights, but I would expect more with His Grace’s awakening fatherly instincts, and at least five bags worth of necessities and other supplies.”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth. 

“Not a word. All this will be handled accordingly. As for you, I advise you enter your room and take your time saying goodbye to your bed, pillows, and sheets.”

“Are we taking Sandu?”

Gu Xiyang pauses, though his grip tightens when Jiang Cheng attempts to pull himself away. “I believe you would prefer that.”

Isn’t that just the obvious? “Of course!”

“Then we will.”

“When you said we’re taking the pup, I didn’t think you meant pups.” Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at the all-too-happy grin of one Wei-fucking-Wuxian. “Why is he here?”

“Did My Lord forget that Young Master Wei is now a knight by all his right?” 

“No. How can I when I have to look at his muscles and die of envy every day?” Of course, the last part is muttered to himself.

“Young Master Wei is a Captain candidate under your authority. Naturally, he will follow you. Everywhere.”

Jiang Cheng snorts but refrains from saying anything. 

Follow who? Follow who??

Knight-Captain Wei follows no one but his heart. That damn big heart that probably has everyone but Jiang Wanyin in it. Look where that will lead to in the future. 

To be fair, it’s for the good of everyone. Jiang Cheng can’t argue with that. 

“Why are you getting in?”

Wei Wuxian pauses midway of boarding the carriage and answers matter-of-factly, “I’m your knight.”

“So? Ride your horse or something.” 

Then Wei Wuxian’s face twists in sympathy. “Oh, but A-Cheng, weren’t you always feeling envious and left-out when everyone else but you ride a horse?”

“...” Jiang Cheng shuts the door.

“Young Master Wei was being thoughtful.”

“Shut up.”

Hopefully, Wei Wuxian’s entertained grin from the window proved Jiang Cheng’s point. Especially when, despite riding a horse and supposedly lining up with the other knights at the front or back, he still finds the chance to pass by the window, blocking Jiang Cheng’s view of the outside world, only to ramble about nothing and everything at the same time.

At one point, he’s talking about the pair of what seems to be ravens flying over them. He’s been laughing about it. Jiang Cheng doesn’t think there’s anything funny about that. 

When he looks at his butler, his eyes are closed. He’s probably not really asleep judging from his posture. He just doesn’t want to deal with Jiang Cheng’s growing exasperation. 

“—and then we had this other bird that looks colorful. It’s so peculiar and funny-looking, but who knew it can talk!”

Hm. Yes. Jiang Cheng is already nodding off. 

The ride is long and there’s nothing he can do to kill boredom without a phone or some other gadget. Wei Wuxian’s ramblings are entertaining when you actually listen to the contents, but they’re too voracious to keep track of. 

His Little Sandu is unfortunately been put to sleep because travels are not often good for animals, and Gu Xiyang has not agreed when Jiang Cheng has insisted the pup should ride with him. So, yes, Little Sandu, his poor good boy, rides in another carriage all cold and alone. 

(—not. A pair of knights are given the privilege to look after the poor thing. Jiang Cheng just overestimates how much his own very-unconscious-to-care puppy would need his presence, really.)

“—and then, there was one time I tried to feed it worm—” the rambling takes a sudden pause. 

Good, Jiang Cheng thinks as he sinks deeper and deeper into oblivion.

“CHENGCHENG! WAKE UP! WE’RE HERE!” 

What prevented Jiang Cheng’s inevitable fall is a pair of gloved hands catching on to his lapels. 

“You’re crumpling my clothes.” 

“Respectfully, you never cared much.”

“True.” A yawn. “Where are we again?”

“Near the borders!” The carriage door opens before Gu Xiyang can answer. “Come on, ChengCheng! Gege will show you!”

One ugly Wei Wuxian’s grin is so blinding it can’t be anything good. But then he asks, “This should be your first time to see a ship, right?”

And he looks genuinely excited for Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng blinks. 

A ship?

“I guess...”

It wouldn’t be impossible if Jiang Fengmian has never taken his son with him anywhere, given their relationship. So Jiang Cheng doubts Jiang Wanyin has seen a ship his whole life. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, has seen a few, both pictures and in-person, though he has never gone on one before. 

This would be his first time, indeed.

A pause. 

Is it?

Jiang Cheng steps off the carriage and comes face-to-face with what is definitely a war ship, an endless waves of blue in the backdrop. He hesitates.

“Come! Come!” Wei Wuxian immediately skips toward the ship, stopping only to greet a few lined men. 

“Greetings, Young Master Wei.” All eyes turned to Jiang Cheng as soon as he takes another step forward, prompted by his butler. “Welcome aboard Zidian, Young Master Jiang.”

Jiang Cheng awkwardly nods. They must be the crew? 

Wait—

Zidian? 

Jiang Cheng blinks. He could spit if he’s drinking water, but he’s not.

“Yinzhu and Jinzhu greets the Young Lord.”

A pair of similarly dressed men—women dressed in pants so unlike the society this world has—step forward ahead the rest. 

Jiang Cheng gapes.

Yinzhu and Jinzhu? Aren’t these... the Duchess’ most trusted maids-turned-assassin of some sort? 

There aren’t much mention of them as they would die alongside their mistress, but apparently, the Duchess brought these two women with her upon marrying into the Jiang duchy. Jiang Cheng hasn’t seen them during his arrival and so hasn’t crossed his mind that these characters also exist. 

Apparently, they seem to be sailors now? Of Zidian, the Duchess’ famed largest war ship—largest in the kingdom—which has been commissioned by the Yu family as a dowry? 

Well.

Not his problem.

Just that, Jiang Cheng is pretty sure he’s going to visit a small town, not going to war? 

“Careful on the gangway,” Wei Wuxian calls out, snapping Jiang Cheng out of his senses. 

In his thinking, he has been advancing forward and has climbed up the ramp. Wei Wuxian steps back to offer a hand as if Gu Xiyang and a dozen of knights aren’t already watching his back with hawk-like focus. “Here, let gege help!” 

Ah, whatever. 

Biting his own tongue, he stiffly takes that outstretched hand and gingerly allows himself to be pulled. The ship sways a little with the wave, and Jiang Cheng inhales before slowly letting go. This is his first time stepping in a ship, alright.

It is.

“Here, A-Cheng! Follow me up that balcony-looking space!”

—right?

“That’s called a deck, idiot.”

Who doesn’t know that?

Wei Wuxian laughter drifts all the way down. “Of course, it is.”

“—and no, I’m not coming up there.”

The mere thought gives him shudders. What are the odds of the ship shaking and he falls off, huh?

“You’re no fun!”

Jiang Cheng waves his hand. “Yeah. Yeah. As if we all don’t already know that.” 

Most importantly, where is his pup?

“My Lord,” Gu Xiyang slides to his left silently, “I think you should rest.” 

And he does none to refuse. He does not like the way the ship is swaying. Neither the way he immediately falls asleep when he lays on a bed despite not feeling particularly sleepy, but he cannot help it either.

When he wakes, he guesses it’s more or less an hour later, and the room smells vaguely like Gu Xiyang.

As expected, the butler is seated just beside him and tending to some papers.

Jiang Cheng blinks multiple times then just stares at the ceiling. 

“What’s the mayor like?”

The reply comes a few seconds late: “Good, according to the people.”

Is this really my first time dealing with state matters? he really wants to ask. I ought to be nervous, shouldn’t I be? 

“Ah,” he says instead.

The sound of flipping papers pause. He feels the butler’s gaze on him, and he turns his head just enough to see a frown from his periphery.

“Are you alright?”

Jiang Cheng huffs out a breath. “I don’t really know.” 

Gu Xiyang’s face covers his vision in an instant, long dark hair brushing against his cheek. A palm lands on his forehead. 

“You are not ill,” Gu Xiyang mutters, looking vaguely perplexed. “But you’ve been pale since we embarked. Even in your sleep. Do you feel seasick?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. How can I call myself a Jiang?”

What is it they say in the book? The Jiangs are children of the rivers and the seas? 

Wei Wuxian, though not a Jiang in blood, has grown up as one. It may not be apparent to himself but any emphatic reader can tell the longing in the way he talks about his adoptive family whenever he as much as looks at a pond. 

It’s because the whole point of being a Jiang apart from leading a duchy is to love the waters. 

Doesn’t this just mean that Jiang Cheng really doesn’t belong here? He has come stealing the body of a real Jiang. And apart from going back home, he ought to bring Jiang Wanyin back to his family, too. 

Perhaps something has shown on his face because the butler’s expression grows soft.

“There’s no shame in vulnerability. Least of all not with me when I served you for a long time.” 

“I know,” he replies quietly. “I’m not ashamed.”

At least not in the way the butler thinks. But yes, he is ashamed. And guilty. He has gone and paraded around posing like Jiang Wanyin, while unbeknownst to everyone, this secretly but clearly loved ‘villain’ is out who knows where. He could be drifting in nothingness, or thrusted into another cruel world out there like Jiang Cheng and possibly suffering, or maybe even dead. 

And—

Even if they’re fictional characters, they are still living, and breathing, and thinking, and loving, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he can keep looking at them in the eye without eventually blurting out the fact that the actual recipient of their warmth is gone. 

“It’s quite normal to feel sick on a ship when you haven’t gotten on one before. Plenty of sea-farers have to get used to the motions too, and even then, they get land-sick in return. All it takes is getting used to. Now, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Jiang Cheng hums non-commitally. 

He brings his arm across his eyes, and Gu Xiyang allows him another moment of peace.

“Welcome! Welcome, Young Lord Jiang!”

The mayor really is as good as he can be. He’s a short man with a broad frame and a sort of bumbling energy. His grin seems almost permanently fixed beneath a bristling mustache. Almost reminds Jiang Cheng of a certain Wei whose energy is surprisingly contained it would almost fool anybody. Well, at least he takes his position seriously when it matters.

Jiang Cheng accepts the mayor’s handshake with a polite smile of his own, which is hard, because he’s not a smile-er, and neither is Jiang Wanyin if the strain on his cheek says anything. But he would have to do an awful lot of that to ease everyone’s impression on Jiang Wanyin, wouldn’t he?

“Please excuse my humble home, but do come in!”

Jiang Cheng barely bites back a dry comment. Humble, he says, yet the carved doors and polished tiles gleam as brightly as any noble hall. Perhaps significantly smaller than any of the Jiang family’s mansions that he has seen so far (which isn’t many, but the point stands), but it’s still a mansion. 

(Yet it’s also not anyone’s fault Jiang Cheng only knows an old wooden house with an old woman and a child the entirety of his very short life.)

As they enter, servants fewer than Jiang Cheng expects for a house this large are hurrying past them with their heads bowed. He also doesn’t see too many lavish decorations apart from a few that would sufficiently fill empty spaces. Maybe that’s where the humble bullshit comes in. 

Jiang Cheng nods anyway and allows himself to be led around pleasantries and small talks. It’s not until the teapot is half empty that he puts his cup down.

“My lord mayor,” he says, “I think it is about time we begin speaking about the reports you sent.”

The man’s cheer falters. He hesitates, twisting his signet ring before asking carefully, “Ah, forgive me, Young Lord, but… are we to expect the Duke as well?”

The room stills. Gu Xiyang freezes mid-pour while Wei Wuxian, initially growing too comfortable munching on snacks that Jiang Cheng doesn’t like, shifts his weight, hand brushing the hilt of his sword. 

Jiang Cheng blinks, swallows a fruit, then hands his cup to Gu Xiyang. 

“Mayor,” he starts, voice pitched ever so slightly to an almost-drawl. And it feels so natural when he leans back his seat, legs crossed, and arms draped over the armrest like a lazy cat. “Are you looking down on me just when I thought we were going to get along?”

The mayor blanches and immediately falls off his seat to kneel and bow. “P-Pardon me, Young Lord! Of course not! I would not dare!”

“Then pray tell, mayor, what of me you think incapable of solving your problem.”

Oh, no. Of course Jiang Cheng knows. It’s not uncommon in this world to have people like him—young, inexperienced, and most importantly, an omega—doubted and tested at every turn. When Wei Wuxian and the noble heirs led the rebellion, they have not been taken seriously at first.

Yet this is no rebellion, isn’t it? It’s just a dispute, surely, and Jiang Cheng is only here to listen. He’s not even attempting to propose some ungodly, unheard-of, unorthodox method to solve whatever it is yet. 

It would have to either be his secondary gender, his age and inexperience, or his infamous temper. He just needs to know which it is between the three.

“P-Please, My Lord, calm yourself!” the mayor flounders, “It is not that I doubt your capability. On the contrary, I believe you might handle this. But…” His throat bobs as he lowers himself further. “For a young master of your position, I am concerned for what you might face.”

A young master of his position?

As an heir? Hah. That position never meant anything in this world apart from constantly trying to prove themselves worthy of inheriting. One too many heirs are holding swords the moment they can carry its weight. Some attended the Knighthood Academia, the others straight to military bases. No state issue has ever made an heir position a concern. On the contrary.

The exception being—him. His secondary gender, to be specific. Now that he thinks about it, most other heirs are Alpha, a rare few Betas. Only Jiang Wanyin is an omega. Who knows what his parents were thinking. 

Hah. My dude, you’ve been written the ultimate bad outlier.

Jiang Cheng studies the mayor’s sorry form and exhales silently. 

“And what is that, mayor?”

The mayor takes a few seconds before slowly raising his head, though gaze still on the floor. 

“We are speaking of bandits, My Lord,” he says at last. “At first, the reports were uncertain, and so we could only describe it as such. Strange movements, missing goods, frightened travelers. Then a scout of mine stumbled accidentally upon a camp.”

There’s a very subtle sound of a sword being sheathed back, and Jiang Cheng is suddenly thankful that apart from Wei Wuxian, all his other knights have stationed themselves outside the room. 

“A dangerous number of them, My Lord. Near the borders. And from what it looks like, they are growing day by day.”

And you’re worried about my secondary gender for? 

But Jiang Cheng is no longer concerned about that any more than he is with this information. 

This is not some land dispute like he assumed it would likely be. This is the damn plot. 

And he’s ready to stand and get out of here. 

The mayor wants the Duke, then he gets the Duke. 

“For years, My Lord, we have never had to encounter these problems ever since His Majesty made an example out of them. They have stayed far from our lands and have honored their promise never to come near again.”

Jiang Cheng knows about that. Wen Ruohan, the sadistic bastard, has had no inhibition of massacring a group of outlaws and hanging their heads along the borders to warn other bandits who might get ideas. That’s maybe one thing he can admit the King has done solely to protect his people. 

Others, not so sure. There’s always a personal agenda, like going to war just because his ego is bruised. 

“Yet it is also because of this peace that the Lord General Nie’s men have been pulling out of their positions from the borders as they are summoned back to the barracks. As you might already know, My Lord, there are talks that the general is to embark on a conquest, hence the recalls. And I suspect that it is because of this that the bandits have had the courage to return.”

“That is true, A-Cheng” Wei Wuxian murmurs from behind him. “That war-hungry general found himself bored since there’s no more fights so he asked permission from court to go conquering some distant lands.”

Yeah. And that would invite another greedy kingdom to mess around apart from just bandits. And Wen Ruohan is so enraged at the audacity he readily declared war even though his general and more than a quarter of his military power have gone to some distant lands. And then he would offer no support whatsoever to whatever men he ordered to fight the war for him. His Barons, his Counts. Hell, even his Duke, Jiang Fengmian, just because he doesn’t like the man. But that’s not his fault, really. 

The edict is supposedly for Wei Wuxian, being a famous Knight Captain back there. The King wanted Wei Wuxian to lead the Jiang duchy’s marine forces, but since he is Jiang Fengmian’s favorite, it can’t happen. So Jiang Fengmian went himself, and then Yu Ziyuan followed him because apparently, she loves him enough to be worried. And they both died back there. That’s how the rebellion would start. 

Jiang Cheng shakes his head to clear his thoughts and pulls himself back to a proper posture. He gestures for the mayor to return to his seat, who follows reluctantly.

“Alright, mayor. I understand your concerns.” Yes, yes. He knows these problems usually involve personally speaking with the bandits, and the mayor might be worried about that. Some vulnerable princess-y omega thing, but fortunately for him, Jiang Cheng is also worried about that. He is not going to touch the plot, yes. So— “I will write to my father. For now, I will need your cooperation to secure the village, mayor.”

The village is not exactly at the borders, but it’s the nearest one and surrounded by multiple trade routes. According to the mayor, while there are no physical harassment or plain-sight robberies, too many goods are indeed going missing at nights when no one’s looking. Some travelers have also come to the village just to have a secured rest because apparently, they would meet too many suspicious men on the road and it felt unsafe to camp in the woods. 

Jiang Cheng knows the bandits genuinely mean no harm. Even though he skimmed past this particular section in the story, he managed to catch enough information to piece two and two together. The neighboring kingdom simply gained a new king who is as paranoid as Wen Ruohan, and he followed Wen Ruohan’s example to murder a bandit leader. Since they’re sandwiched between two kingdoms, they’ve decided to simply move. There’s a free land up north and the only route there is within Wen Ruohan’s lands.

But Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how this problem would be dealt with. He knows the bandits won’t die. They would successfully reach the free lands, but a severe drought would force them to move back. And it would happen to be at the time when the rebellion started and Wei Wuxian needed to get help in other means since Nie Mingjue is away. So when he caught the bandits, he made an agreement with them. 

Yet Wen Ruohan has no tolerance for them. If word reaches his ear, he would not hesitate to launch canons. And if he hears any hint that someone is helping them, he would charge that person with treason. 

So how has this issue been handled in the book? Because there’s no mention of it.

If anyone apart from Jiang Cheng who would come looking at this matter, it would have to be Jiang Fengmian—

Wait.

Unless— 

Jiang Fengmian is not a bad Duke, despite his apparent kindness. He would have to have a shrewd idea or two to survive in court and keep his duchy intact (at least back when he still hasn’t married Yu Ziyuan). It is possible that he dealt with the bandits a bit too kindly, tried to hide it smartly from Wen Ruohan, only for the King to find out and use it as blackmail to mobilize the marine forces. Maybe that’s why Jiang Fengmian foolishly went on Wei Wuxian’s behalf instead of standing his ground and saying “No.”

Argh. 

But that’s too much to think about. 

Everywhere he goes, everything that happens, the plot is always involved. 

“My Lord, you’re thinking too hard.”

Jiang Cheng sighs loudly. “I can’t help it when this is not an ordinary problem.”

He has come here for some sort of a productive vacation, you know? Not to deal with the plot and accidentally trigger some death flag if he decides wrong. 

After a long discussion, they’ve all decided this is not a matter to be solved in a single day. The mayor has offered him a large room in the mansion, and immediately, he writes the letter to be sent to the Duke. And then another to the Nies to maybe scold them for their lack of foresight. Only thing left now is to wait for the results of Wei Wuxian’s intel-gathering skill. That and other things he can still do. 

“We’d have to send my knights to patrol the markets for robbery. You can’t protest.”

Gu Xiyang seems visibly displeased but indeed does not object. Not that he doesn’t care for the common people, but Jiang Cheng understands his top priority is his master too. Such is the contract this world has with master-servants. Happened with Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning, too. Or, well, will happen soon.

There’s a knock on the door just as Gu Xiyang finishes clearing the table. Jiang Cheng shifts on the chair, a little head just beside his chair twitching and lifting slightly at the familiar sound of boots. Jiang Cheng pats the Sandu twice before the pup is scooped up by Gu Xiyang. 

Jiang Cheng huffs at the butler but stands and opens the door. It’s one of his knights he sent out this afternoon, armor now dusted from the road. 

“My Lord. We’ve finished escorting the farmers from the outer fields. Most have moved closer to the main village as instructed. The west road is clear, but there are gaps along the northern hedges where the watch is thin.”

Jiang Cheng nods. “Assign two men to keep watch as planned. And four to patrol the market tonight in case of another robbery. But don’t concern yourself with attempting to catch them. We won’t know if they bring large groups each time. Just make your presence known to ward them off.”

Only for tonight, at least. The bandits might soon find out there’s not enough knights actually going around, but by then, Jiang Fengmian should already be here to handle things. 

And Jiang Cheng would be off. 

No, really. He is so not going to have himself killed in a war just because he decided to take Jiang Fengmian’s role. 

“As instructed, My Lord.”

Jiang Cheng nods again and the knight walks off into the dark hallway. When he closes the door, he snorts.

“I still have two knights with me left. And you. And Sandu—”

“Who is still very small.”

“—And the mansion is guarded by the mayor’s men. Why do you look as if I’d get assassinated at every turn?”

Gu Xiyang frowns this time as he deposits Sandu on to the little cot Jiang Cheng impulsively bought when they’ve gone to the markets earlier. 

“And I would not have to, had you not felt it necessary to send away Young Master Wei, too.”

“He just said he’s coming back at dawn,” Jiang Cheng exclaims, but lowers his voice instantly when Sandu raises his head again at the noise. “Why are you so protective? It’s not like I’m some prince anyone would take interest in.”

Gu Xiyang’s expression does not ease but he stubbornly turns away from Jiang Cheng to continue fiddling with Sandu’s own blankets, as if a pup actually likes to be tucked in. He’s probably just holding back a scolding. 

And Jiang Cheng can’t be bothered with him because he’s exhausted. He has visited the watch towers earlier with the mayor and has spoken with one too many militia captains to re-organize their defenses. There’s too many talking and some attempts at intimidating because really, sixteen and omega sounds laughable in this world. 

And—

“What now?” Jiang Cheng is already heading to his bed, and if Gu Xiyang keeps looking at him like that, they might just have to have a screaming match, apology to Sandu due after.

Surprisingly, Gu Xiyang simply sighs and finally allows his face to look more, oh Jiang Cheng doesn’t know, normal? It’s very strange having to look at his almost-sulk because he’s otherwise usually smiling like a ghost.

He finally stands from his crouching to look properly at Jiang Cheng. “You have a natural talent for leadership.” 

A pause. 

Jiang Cheng loses his grip on the blanket as he chuckles. 

Ah, if it isn't what everyone back home would tell him. “You have a natural talent for ordering people around.” Suggestive and insistent, repeated, recurring, that soon, it has weighed in on his course of life.

“Get into business management! You’d thrive,” they would tell him. “Not in this small cafe, making low-quality coffee.”

And hasn’t he planned to do just that? To work multiple part-time jobs, however odd they can be, to save up for a future that might just finally start to help make sense of his life and purpose?

Yet now he’s here. Now he’s dead, and now he lives this life instead.

So he replies, smile dimming and turning wry, “So I’m always told, Yang-ge.”

So he is always told.