There wasn’t even supposed to be a battle.
The area near Qiongpi Path has always been an unspoken no man’s land. Lying west of Qishan, the valley was close enough to Qinghe and Lanling for it to be an important geographical landmark for both sides of the war. Of course, that wasn’t even considering the historical importance of the valley to the Wens, being somewhere the founder of their sect had rose to fame—taking it would be considered an important blow to the Wen’s moral.
At least, that was what Jin Ling had been taught. Looking at the valley now, little more than rock and rubble, it was hard to imagine it in it’s prime with it’s proud walls carved with depictions of Wen Mao’s legendary feats. Stories of Nie Mingjue’s first victory at the valley, the first break in the Wen Sect’s lines and the first victory for the allied sects, were still recounted to Jin Ling’s generation as the turning point of the campaign. Thanks to that victory, the overwhelming pressure of the Wen Sect had been drawn to a halt.
Of course, this was during the height of the war, when no one could have expected the Sunshot campaign to stretch so long. The breakneck speed of the Sunshot Campaign had died down years ago, long enough so that Jin Ling had never actually participated in all out battle. With the Wen Sect forces retreating, the battles shifted south, and Qiongpi Path no longer held the importance it once did.
This was the only reason Jin Ling, along with some other disciples from sects in the alliance, had been allowed to scout the area. Unfortunately, it seemed like a group of Wen sect disciples had the same idea.
There had been no time to think. The battle had come so suddenly none of them were prepared. Jin Ling wasn’t even sure who shot the first arrow, or even who drew the first sword. The only positive was that it probably wasn’t a trap, and the Wen sect members seems just as unprepared as Jin Ling’s side.
Jin Ling was the only one on his side who’d brought his bow—no one really was expecting a fight. He couldn’t say the same for the other side however. Jin Ling dived behind a rock, heart pounding as an arrow missed him by less than a foot.
On the other side of the battlefield, perched on top of some rocks, a figure in red and white was notching another arrow. He looked about the same age as Jin Ling, with his bangs sweeping across his forehead and fair features set into a frown as he surveyed the battlefield. The boy had already turned his attention from Jin Ling, searching for vulnerable targets on the battlefield instead.
Jin Ling notched another arrow, twisting out of his spot to let it fly—but the Wen sect archer was fast, dodging it and jumping down from his perch on the rocks. Swearing under his breath, Jin Ling pulled out Suihua.
Getting across the battlefield wasn’t easy. He hid behind rocks, dodged the flash of swords. Eventually, he made it up and around the rocky outcrop the Wen archer was hiding behind.
The Wen archer had his back turned to Jin Ling and was busy pulling another arrow from his quiver. Jin Ling adjusted his grip on Suihua and lunged.
The Wen archer reacted so quickly Jin Ling didn’t expect it. Lightning fast he lifted his bow—in a maneuver so quick Jin Ling could hardly process it, the other boy twisted Jin Ling’s sword out of his grasp and sent it flying out of reach.
Jin Ling’s momentum was still going—he went toppling into the other boy, who fell backwards with a yelp.
They landed hard on the ground. Jin Ling froze as they felt the rock beneath them shift.
Years of battles on this stretch of the valley made patches of the ground unstable—Jin Ling was unlucky enough to fall on one of them.
The ground collapsed beneath them. For a long moment it felt as if the two of them were suspended in the air—the Wen sect disciple looked just as shocked as Jin Ling did, his lips parted in surprise. Before either of them could do anything about it, the ground gave out beneath them and they were sent plummeting down.
Falling among rock and gravel, Jin Ling tried to summon spiritual energy to soften the blow. It worked mostly, but he ended up landing awkwardly on a loose rock. His foot slipped, and he fell—his forehead met sharp rock, making him see stars.
When he was able to blink the spots from his vision, he found himself lying on the ground next to a pile of rubble. His head was pulsing, and something was dripping into his eye. He lifted a hand and touched it—his fingers came away red. That couldn’t be good. He groaned, trying to sit up.
“Are you okay?”
Jin Ling jerked at the unfamiliar voice. The sudden movement was too much, making his head spin. He tried to summon Suihua, but there was no response—either he couldn’t concentrate properly, or he was just out of range.
The Wen archer was hovering a few feet away, brows furrowed.
“I’m… not going to hurt you.”
The Wen archer’s voice was soft, almost deliberately soothing.
As if Jin Ling would fall for that.
“Get away from me!” Jin Ling wished he wasn’t so vulnerable. With no weapons like this, he was practically naked. He patted the ground for something, anything. He managed to find a rock, which he clutched in his palm like a lifeline.
“Y—You Wen—” He staggered to his feet, head spinning. “Wen…dog…” He lifted the rock, only to find that it had fallen out of his grasp.
He found himself falling, again, his legs giving out under him. Strong arms caught him, placing him onto the ground gently.
“Sorry,” the other boy said. “You’re really hurt. Stay still, or else I have to put you to sleep.”
In Jin Ling’s dazed state, he couldn’t even process the words properly. For some reason, his spinning mind seemed to fixate on the Wen disciple’s voice in particular. Why was it so soft? For some reason, Jin Ling imagined all Wen sect member’s voices were rough and nasty, like the bark and growl of a rabid dog…
Fingers pushed at his bangs. Jin Ling jerked back.
“Get away from me.”
The fingers stopped. The Wen disciple frowned.
“You’re bleeding really badly.”
Jin Ling gritted his teeth. “Why do you care?! You just tried to kill us!”
The other boy drew back, affronted. “Your side swung swords first.”
“We’re at war!” Jin Ling fixed the Wen disciple with a glare. “Why do you even want to help?!”
The boy sighed.
“I may be a member of the Wen sect,” he said, sounding a touch impatient. “But that doesn’t mean I want to kill people. But of course if you attack us, we’ll defend. Now please stay still or else I can’t help you.”
With a surprisingly strong hand, the boy pushed Jin Ling so he leaned back on the rock behind him. Jin Ling was too startled to fight back as the disciple pushed back his bangs.
This close it was hard for Jin Ling to not to stare at the other boy’s fair features. They were soft—and Jin Ling couldn’t lie to himself—handsome. There seemed to be an almost serene air around him, something calming about him that Jin Ling couldn’t quite pinpoint to his physical features. But most distressing, most disarming wasn’t even that—it was the boy’s eyes. They were dark, and had the boy not been a Wen disciple, Jin Ling might have even described them as kind.
Jin Ling swallowed as those dark eyes roamed over his face, brows pinched in concentration.
“If I don’t put healing salve on this,” the boy said. “It will leave a scar. And you could have a concussion, so it’s better for you if you stay still.” The Wen sect disciple reached into his robes, pulling out a small vial of a dark green liquid.
The fingers on his forehead were almost absurdly soft. Jin Ling felt as if his brain were being realigned as he struggled to understand what was happening. Was this really a member of the Wen sect in front of him right now? His mind struggled to accept it—it had to be some kind of trick. But what kind of trick could come from healing Jin Ling, out of sight for anyone to see?
“Are you…really part of the Wen sect?” Jin Ling said, confused. The fingers on his forehead paused for a moment. This close, it wasn’t hard to see a shadow pass over the other boy’s face.
The boy drew back a little. The serene air he was radiating was broken for a moment.
“I am,” he said. “Just because I was born into this sect doesn’t mean I’m responsible for the horrible things people in the sect have done in the past.”
The way he said those words made it sound as if it was something he was told a lot, or something he’d repeated a lot in the past. Maybe it was something that he told himself over and over, with conviction. Jin Ling stared at the other boy, uncomprehending.
He really was a kid, just like Jin Ling.
Jin Ling slumped back against the rocks, feeling the fight in him being drained out of him.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered. The soft fingers on his forehead continued it’s work, spread salve over his wound. “Not killing is one thing, but actually healing me is another.”
The Wen disciple didn’t respond. Once he’d finished with the salve he pulled back, ripping a strip of cloth from his outer robes. He tied it around Jin Ling’s forehead.
“You’re right,” the Wen disciple said, eventually. “Helping an enemy…it’s pretty strange, isn’t it? But Young Master Jin—” Jin Ling blinked, startled, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised the other boy recognized him. Just the red mark on his forehead was a dead giveaway. “My teacher taught me that as a medic, it doesn’t matter what robes an injured person is wearing. What matters is preserving human life.”
Those didn’t sound like words coming from a member of the Wen sect at all.
“Who was your teacher?”
The Wen disciple scrutinized Jin Ling for a moment, and seeming to satisfied with whatever he was looking for, answered with, “my aunt, Wen Qing.”
Jin Ling’s mouth dropped open. Wen Qing was one of the few famous cultivators in the Wen Sect left. Although Jin Ling wasn’t often privy to the war talks that were held, he knew that Wen Qing was primarily a medic. He never really considered the implications of that.
“Well—” Jin Ling grasped for something to say. “You still used your bow.”
“Yes. But I don’t shoot to kill.”
Thinking back to the battle, it was true—he’d aimed for legs or shoulders.
Jin Ling wasn’t sure how to feel about these revelations. All his life he’d learned that all Wen were evil—and yet, the boy sitting in front of him seemed to defy all those expectations.
Jin Ling hadn’t had the chance to really take in his surroundings since he’d fallen, but looking now, it seemed as if they’d fallen into a ravine. Looking up was a nasty shock—the sky was only a thin crack in the distance. Honestly, the fact that he’d gotten away with only a bleeding forehead to show for it was pretty surprising.
“Do you have your sword?” The Wen disciple asked. Jin Ling tried to summon Suihua again, only to be met with no response.
“…No,” Jin Ling sighed. “It must still be up above. How about you?”
The Wen disciple shook his head. Jin Ling squinted at the other boy.
“What? Did you get disarmed too?”
The other boy shook his head again. “No. It was…” The boy’s eyes darted towards the sky for a moment, frowning. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you. It was taken by my sect.”
“What? Why?” The boy shrugged.
“There’s a shortage of weapons, and my division of the sect doesn’t usually fight. Almost all spiritual weapons were confiscated.”
Jin Ling realized that this was probably extremely sensitive information and not something you share with your enemies. Either the Wen disciple had no loyalty to his sect or he just didn’t care.
But really…Jin Ling couldn’t even comprehend how he’d feel if such a thing were to happen back home. Losing Suihua to be used by some stranger…he didn’t think he’d be able to stand it.
It occurred to Jin Ling then that he didn’t even know the other boy’s name. The other boy seemed to come to the same realization just as Jin Ling did and smiled politely.
“I’m Wen Sizhui by the way,” he said.
Jin Ling nodded, relieved he didn’t have to ask. “I’m Jin Ling,” he responded. Wen Sizhui’s smiled widened.
“It’s probably strange to say this in these kinds of circumstances,” he said. “But it’s nice to meet you.”
High above them, the sun was beginning to set. Jin Ling slumped back against rock behind him. The adrenaline from the fight before was gone, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
“I guess we’re stuck down here until someone comes looking,” he sighed. Wen Sizhui nodded.
“Someone should come by morning, hopefully.” Wen Sizhui eyed Jin Ling for a moment. “Don’t fall asleep,” he said, sounding worried. “If you have a concussion, that could be bad.”
Jin Ling tried to blink himself back into wakefulness. It didn’t work.
“Why don’t you talk about something?” Wen Sizhui suggested.
“Like what?”
“Well…” Wen Sizhui pulled his legs towards himself, expression contemplative. “You seem good at archery. Who taught you?”
It didn’t seem like anything too revealing, so Jin Ling gave the answer gave the answer easily. “My uncles.”
“Yunmeng Jiang’s Twin Heroes?”
Jin Ling blinked. “You know if them?”
“Of course.” Wen Sizhui’s smile curled into a smile. “One of my uncles told me about them. Apparently, they knew each other when they were younger.”
“What?! Who’s your uncle?”
“You probably haven’t heard of him. His name is Wen Ning. He’s Wen Qing’s brother.”
It sounded faintly familiar, but Jin Ling couldn’t quite recall where he’d heard the name.
“You seem pretty good to have been taught by someone obscure.”
Wen Sizhui smiled. “He’s actually one of the best archers in the Sect. He just doesn’t show it to people. If he did they’d make him hurt people.”
Jin Ling frowned. “I don’t get it,” he said. “All my life I’ve learned that the Wen sect wants us dead. But you and your relatives, you’re all so…” Jin Ling trailed off, unsure how he wanted to finish it. So different? So nice?
Wen Sizhui just shook his head.
“Many members of the sect still cling onto the glory of what the Wen sect was all those years ago,” he said. “They want to reclaim that. Maybe I’d be that way too, if it weren’t for my aunt and uncle. But…” he sighed, fingers curling into his robes. “Even the most bloodthirsty of them are getting tired.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well—it’s been perhaps seventeen years now, right? Since the war began? Most of those who started this are dead.” Wen Sizhui shrugged. “I think most just want this over.”
Jin Ling could relate.
Their conversation veered towards more inane things. Jin Ling told Wen Sizhui about his mother’s pork bone and lotus soup. Wen Sizhui recounted the time his Uncle Four tricked Wen Ning into drinking some disgusting, homebrewed liquor.
Wen Sizhui was alarmingly easy to talk to. He was always smiling, his responses thoughtful, and most importantly he actually listened to the things Jin Ling said, as if what he said was actually important. That was more than he could say for most of the people back home in the Jin sect.
It was so strange. It felt as if he’d known Wen Sizhui for years, rather than just a handful of hours.
Residual exhaustion was quickly gone, replaced instead by exasperation as Jin Ling described his uncle’s strange relationship with the Second Jade of the Lan sect.
“I don’t know why uncle acts like that,” Jin Ling complained. The sun had gone down and the two of them were huddled close for warmth. There was no wood for them to burn and they didn’t want to waste their fire seals. “He’s always really annoying and touchy but with Hanguang-Jun it’s somehow worse. He seems to love annoying Hanguang-Jun the most. He’s an embarrassment to the sect!”
Wen Sizhui hummed thoughtfully.
“Sounds like they get along,” he said. Jin Ling frowned.
“What? Didn’t you hear me? I said he annoyed Hanguang-Jun.”
There was just enough light for Jin Ling to recognize the curve of the other boy’s lips as a smile.
“Well, I’m sure you know them better than I do, but Hanguang-Jun seems like a very straightforward person, and your uncle doesn’t seem like the type to impose.”
Jin Ling pursed his lips.
“I guess.”
“Isn’t it strange for two people like that to still be so close? It makes sense if this is just their way of being friends, rather than them disliking each other.”
Jin Ling huffed, crossing his arms. “You seem like an expert on these kinds of things.”
Wen Sizhui laughed. “I guess? I just enjoy observing people.” His smile dimmed a little. “Most of the people I interact with are my relatives. It’s hard to make friends when you have to be wary of the people around you.”
Jin Ling wasn’t sure what spurred his next words—the words fell out of his mouth so fast he didn’t have time to second guess them.
“Then just leave them,” he blurted out.
Wen Sizhui blinked owlishly. “What?”
Jin Ling pushed forward, ignoring the part of his mind that was curled up in embarrassment.
“You don’t have to go back. If you come to my sect and denounce the Wen sect, they’d definitely accept you. I can vouch for you!”
Wen Sizhui’s eyes widened.
“You…” He stared at Jin Ling for a long moment, lips parted in surprise.
Just as Jin Ling was starting to curse himself for saying something so strange, Wen Sizhui laughed, startling him. It wasn’t mocking or mean, like Jin Ling was used to—the Wen disciple seemed genuinely happy.
Wen Sizhui shook his head. His smile was widest it’s been since Jin Ling had met him. It made his chest feel strange. “Young Master Jin,” Wen Sizhui said, his voice heavy with mirth. “You really are a nice person, aren’t you?”
Jin Ling’s face heated.
“Wha—wha… “
“Thank you,” Wen Sizhui said sincerely, before Jin Ling could stutter out some broken excuse. “I really appreciate it. I wish I could but…my family’s still back there.”
Jin Ling shook off his embarrassment and nodded. That was fair.
Although Wen Sizhui was fun to talk to, there was only so much Jin Ling could do to fend off sleep. He ended up dozing off sometime in the middle of Wen Sizhui’s story about his aunt yelling at his uncle for trying to save a stray bunny on the battlefield. In his last trickles of consciousness, Jin Ling thought he might have felt something being draped over him like a blanket, but he was too far gone to think too deeply of it.
He fell asleep like that, warm and strangely happy considering the circumstances.
……………………
Jin Ling woke up to Wen Sizhui shaking him awake.
“Wha—” Jin Ling blinked sluggishly at the other boy, who seemed strangely tense. “What?”
Wen Sizhui shook his head, pointing upwards. It was bright—it was probably past morning already.
A familiar voice broke the silence, echoing down towards them.
“Jin Ling!” Jin Ling scrambled to his feet, recognizing Wei Wuxian’s voice instantly. A set of outer robes fell from him, but Jin Ling was too distracted to take too much notice.
“Uncle!” He yelled, cupping his mouth towards the surface. “I’m down here!”
High above them a figure in familiar black garbs flew down towards them, landing on the ground next to them. Wei Wuxian had an uncharacteristically concerned expression on his face, but as soon as he saw Jin Ling his face broke into a smile.
“Thank god.” Jin Ling yelped as his uncle grabbed him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.
“Uncle!” He tried to wiggle out of the man’s hold, embarrassed, but Wei Wuxian held tight.
The man yanked Jin Ling back, holding him by his shoulders to inspect him. His eyes narrowed on the cloth wrapped around Jin Ling’s forehead.
“Are you hurt?”
“Sort of,” Jin Ling mumbled. It was always strange to see Wei Wuxian so serious. “I’m fine.”
Wei Wuxian exhaled loudly. “Do you know how worried we were? We thought you were captured!” Jin Ling shuffled, eyes darting away from his uncle’s worried expression.
“I’m fine. I was stuck.”
“I know. We found Suihua. You’re lucky that Jiang Cheng was back in Yunmeng instead of Gusu like I was—if he was here, he’d probably pull out Zidian on you.” Wei Wuxian pulled the sword from his waist, handing it to Jin Ling. Jin Ling clutched Suihua to his chest feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
“…Thank you,” he mumbled. He couldn’t help the twinge of guilt. All that time they’d been worrying about him and Jin Ling had been just casually chatting.
Wei Wuxian smiled, shaking his head.
“No need for that between family.” Wei Wuxian’s gaze drifted towards Wen Sizhui. Jin Ling tensed nervously.
“U-Uncle…”
Wei Wuxian surveyed the Wen sect disciple for a moment.
“Were you the only who bandaged him?” he asked. Wen Sizhui shifted nervously. Eyes wary, he nodded.
Wei Wuxian smiled, and to Jin Ling’s shock, saluted the boy respectfully. Even Wen Sizhui seemed caught off guard.
“Thank you for taking care of him,” his uncle said. “I know he can be a handful sometimes, especially when it comes to asking for help.”
Jin Ling’s face burned.
“I am not!” Wei Wuxian only laughed.
“Your uncle’s at the top,” he told the Wen disciple. “Your family’s been worried too, of course. I’d expect some yelling from Wen Qing, although maybe that’s just something she’d do to me…”
What? Jin Ling felt as if he was missing something.
“What did you just say?” Jin Ling asked, frowning. Wei Wuxian touched a hand to his chin, seeming a little too gleeful.
“Let’s head up,” he said, completely ignoring Jin Ling’s question. “Wen Sizhui, you can ride with Jin Ling.”
Wen Sizhui’s lips parted in surprise.
“You… know my name?”
Wei Wuxian just smiled mysteriously and stepped onto his sword. Jin Ling exchanged a confused look with Wen Sizhui.
Stepping onto Jin Ling’s sword, the three of them flew back towards the surface.
At the top, Wei Wuxian landed next to an unfamiliar man in Wen sect robes. As soon as they landed the unfamiliar man hurried towards them, looking relieved.
“A-Yuan,” the man said, smiling. “You’re okay…”
“Told you,” Wei Wuxian said, clapping Jin Ling on the back. “Jin Ling, this is Wen Ning. He and his sister helped me and Jiang Cheng out a while ago. We’ve been in touch ever since.” He grinned at Jin Ling’s dumbstruck expression. “He and his sister have been working with us from inside the Wen Sect.”
Jin Ling turned to Wen Sizhui.
“Did you know this?” He demanded. Sizhui shook his head slowly, but he seemed thoughtful.
“No… but well, it does explain a few things…”
Wei Wuxian put a hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry—Jiang Cheng and I will explain once we get back. But we have to go,” Wei Wuxian smiled at Wen Ning, seeming apologetic. “Your mom’s been worried sick.”
Jin Ling winced, nodding. He glanced at Wen Sizhui, who seemed to be watching him carefully.
“I guess…” Jin Ling hesitated. “It was nice…talking to you?”
Wen Sizhui smiled.
“It was,” he said. “Maybe we can talk again, one day.”
They said their goodbyes before getting onto their swords and flying in their respective directions. Jin Ling had to fight not to look back.
As they flew, Wei Wuxian flew close to Jin Ling. He was smiling widely in a way Jin Ling had learned to be suspicious of.
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “You’ll see him again.”
Jin Ling nearly fell off his sword. His face red, he swung around to glare at his uncle.
“So what?!”
Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Nothing, nothing. Just thought you’d like to know.”
Jin Ling sputtered, speechless, and swung his sword away to make more room between himself and his uncle. Wei Wuxian only laughed.
Despite himself, Jin Ling’s heart was lifted by his uncle’s words. Maybe with an ally like Wen Sizhui on the other side, this war really would come to an end.
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