I told @serkonans to throw me a mingli idea and he did, I just decided to follow the directions backwards
Nie Mingjue has to squint hard to read his mother’s faded writing. He wishes that he’d had the forethought to preserve the slip of paper better, that he’d been old enough to know that no matter how much Huaisang’s mother tried to recreate the recipe, that it would never taste the same. And she did try, every time he or Huaisang got sick, even if she followed the paper ingredient by ingredient and step by step.
It wasn’t the same.
Qinghe’s rainy season had come, fast and ready to chill anyone down to the bone, but so far, only Jiang Yanli had fallen sick. Her father complained of headaches and aching bones, but Nie Mingjue had watched as Jiang Yanli’s face turned paler and paler beneath her makeup while her nose only turned pinker and pinker. Nie Mingjue can’t help but feel responsible, he was the one who accidentally let one of the agreements with Yunmeng Jiang go unrenewed. He was the reason Jiang Fengmian had brought his daughter all the way to the Unclean Realm.
“Only two chiles?” Nie Mingjue mumbles to himself and squints harder at the paper in front of him. His mother had undoubtedly adjusted the recipe for his tastes but… Nie Mingjue has eaten in Lotus Pier before, and he only looks over his shoulder once before he throws in four more. Jiang Yanli will feel better if she sweats out her fever, right?
He tries hard not to imagine how she’ll react to the soup, she might not even be able to taste it, but Nie Mingjue can’t help it. He wants her to like it. Nie Mingjue wants Jiang Yanli to like the soup that’s only been made a handful of times since his mother died. He wants her to like how he makes it.
Nie Mingjue peels the garlic and the ginger clumsily, but he shaves the meat into thin strips well, and he’d already been shooed away from the task of pulling the noodles by the auntie who usually makes them. The soup is ready long before Nie Mingjue is, but he still pushes forward, he still loads a tray with a bowl of soup and a pot of tea before he starts to walk through the halls to Jiang Yanli’s guest room.
He makes a point of not looking at anyone as he passes them, but he still hears the whispers.
Nie Mingjue has already decided not to care.
“Lady Jiang, are you awake?” He taps the door as gently as he can, not wanting to wake her if she’s not already awake, he’s almost ready to walk away and shove the soup at his brother when Jiang Yanli’s door opens and Jiang Fengmian stands in front of him. Nie Mingjue doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to run away, he only knows that his throat tightens while Jiang Fengmian looks between him and the try in his hands before he smiles.
Jiang Fengmian could just take the tray from him and close the door in his face and Nie Mingjue would force himself to be fine with it. What father would allow a man to be alone with his daughter? “A-Li, Sect Leader Nie has come to see you.”
There isn’t an ounce of warning before Jiang Fengmian dips his head and walks away, leaving Nie Mingjue to stare after him.
Did he crouch down to adjust the fire and hit his head on a heavy cast iron handle? Did Old Auntie Huang in the kitchen finally get tired of watching him struggle with seasonings and put him out of his misery?
Before Nie Mingjue can stand in wonder for too much longer, Jiang Yanli’s voice is ringing softly in his ears, “Sect Leader Nie? Did you need something?”
Jiang Yanli is still sick, but her color is better, or maybe it’s the same and Nie Mingjue thinks that she’s too pretty for him to tell.
“I thought you might feel better if you ate this.” Nie Mingjue holds the tray out to Jiang Yanli even as he thinks about kicking himself. There had to have been a better way to say it, there must have been, but Jiang Yanli still smiles, and she looks even prettier, though still too pale and sickly. She could just take it from him and thank him, and part of Nie Mingjue wishes that she would, but another, more selfish part of himself jumps on the chance when Jiang Yanli steps aside to let him into her room.
Jiang Yanli keeps back from him because she doesn’t want to get him sick, but they still sit down together, with Nie Mingjue across from her and trying not to watch for her reaction as she lifts the first spoonful of broth to her lips. Jiang Yanli’s glassy, tired eyes brighten as she glances up at him, a smile blooming across her face.
“Is it good?” Nie Mingjue asks, unable to look away as she stirs the soup and takes a bigger bite. It has to be a good sign, right? “I followed the recipe as well as I could.”
“Sect Leader Nie made this himself?” Jiang Yanli covers her mouth as her cheeks pinken and she makes a point to chew slower, seeming to remember herself all too quickly. “I’m sorry that you went to such trouble for my sake, but it really is delicious. The broth is so rich and the beef is tender, I didn’t know that you could cook so well.” Jiang Yanli takes small, measured spoonfuls now, but Nie Mingjue smiles before he can help himself, ducking his head quickly.
“When I was small and got sick, my mother used to make this stew for me.” It feels like a confession, thick and heavy on his tongue, “I thought that eating it might help Lady Jiang feel better.” Heat spreads across the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck, he doesn’t get the chance to stop Jiang Yanli from pouring tea for the both of them.
“No one has cooked for me in a very long time.” Jiang Yanli says, a confession of her own passing her lips as she sets the teapot down, Nie Mingjue watches her like a man entranced. The tea is bitter, and astringent, like most medicine, and they both set it down after the first sip, Jiang Yanli’s nose crinkling.
“Not even your brothers?” Nie Mingjue only asks because he knows he has to, because he doesn’t want Jiang Yanli to stop talking, but his question makes Jiang Yanli’s smile turn fond and warm as she shakes her head.
“I tried very hard to teach both of them for a very long time, but neither of them have the patience for it.” Jiang Yanli stirs the noodles through the broth before she takes a few of them up on her chopsticks, “Whoever Sect Leader Nie marries will be very lucky.”
From anyone else, that would be a dismissal, but there’s something in the way Jiang Yanli’s eyes linger on him that tells Nie Mingjue that it’s anything but.
“Lady Jiang will have to marry someone who will cook for her the way she cooks for them.”
Nie Mingjue downs the rest of his cup of bitter, astringent, medicinal tea to ground himself, but Jiang Yanli is still smiling at him, even after she’s finished her soup.
I am thrilled that mingli seems to be picking up speed, bc nmj would try his hardest to be sweet and gentle with her, and then he finds out she has a mischievous side and he's like "oh I really really like her" and the crush only gets BIGGER
Oh shit, this scene just popped into my head;
“I just...worry. I know we are not like the Jiang. We’re volatile and there are no lakes here. Do you think she’s homesick?”
Huaisang flicked his fan open and closed, trying (not particularly hard) to hide the rolling of his eyes when Nie Mingjue turned around, face pinched in worry. “Da-ge, Jiang-guaniang has more on her mind than whether or not there are enough lakes in Qinghe, don’t you think? She’s taking care of the wounded. She’s worried about Jiang-xiong and Wei-xiong.” As was he. But he didn’t really want to get into it. “Why don’t you just talk to her?”
“No,” Nie Mingjue shook his head, pacing away from the aviary’s window, reaching the canary perch, devoid of said-canary because of his nervous energy, and back. “No, now isn’t the time. She’s just so...” he stopped and stared as he brought his hands close together, like he was carefully cupping an invisible ball. “Small. And gentle. And sweet. I don’t...I don’t do sweet well.”
Rising, Huaisang tapped his fan into the crook of his brother’s elbow playfully. “Oh relax, Da-ge, you’re not that scary. And Jiang-guaniang is not some delicate flower.” Nie Mingjue’s face seemed to say otherwise, and so he sighed theatrically and tried again. “I’ve spoken to her. She thinks you’re cute.”
Nie Mingjue’s head whipped around so fast his hairpiece wobbled. “Cute?” Huaisang had to hide a snort behind the blade of his fan as his voice cracked in just the way Huaisang used to tease him about when he had started becoming a man.
“That’s what she said. Oh, she also might have said something about being noble and handsome too, but cute was definitely mentioned.”
Looking slightly dazed, Nie Mingjue ran an unconscious thumb over the edge of his mustache, eyes faraway. “Oh.”
“She also mentioned your mustache.”
His brother scowled over at him, visibly stopping his hand from going back to it as he folded his arms. “Huaisang.” His voice was a warning, though it definitely fell flat from the flush spreading up his neck.
“She did!” Huaisang protested, raising his chin in offense at being so cruelly profiled. “I’m not lying.” He turned to coo at the nearest bird, one that was as small and green as a jewel.
There was a silence behind him. Then, he took the bait. “Does she...dislike it?” He half demanded in a gruff, halting voice.
“She loves it, unfortunately. No accounting for taste.”
“They’re conspiring about something over there.” Nie Mingjue said plainly, bringing both himself and Jiang Yanli to a stop as he squinted ahead at his brother and both of Jiang Yanli’s, their heads bowed over a table but hands moving in gestures that called attention.
Jiang Yanli’s hand on his arm tightens ever so slightly as she leans up on her toes to see the three of them from where they stand, and Nie Mingjue tries not to think about how utterly adorable it was, but then she’s lifting her sleeve to her face to muffle her giggle.
“A-Xian and A-Cheng have been planning my wedding since they were boys,” Jiang Yanli says smiling and shaking her head, impossibly fond and making Nie Mingjue even more fond in exchange. “They’d even learned Jin sect’s wedding traditions because they wanted it to be perfect for me.” They begin moving again and Nie Mingjue tries not to flinch. He wasn’t an insecure man, but he knew he wouldn’t have been Jiang Yanli’s mother’s first choice, not that she had much say in the matter any longer.
Part of him wondered if he’d be haunted by the ghost of a sharp tongued mother in law after their wedding, but Jiang Yanli’s voice cuts through those thoughts, sharper than his saber.
“I overheard them whispering at dinner last night,” This time Jiang Yanli’s thumb rolls over the well toned muscle of Nie Mingjue’s bicep rather than squeezing again, “they’d already started in on A-Sang about Nie sect’s traditions, but they stopped talking anytime I got close enough to hear.” The next time Nie Mingjue looks down, he sees dark eyes sparkling up at him and his throat threatens to squeeze shut with the amount of emotions that flood him.
“I could have told them.” He murmurs, throwing a look over his shoulder just in time to see Huaisang hold his fan in front of Wei Wuxian’s face faux threateningly.
“I’m sure A-Sang wants his Da-ge to have a perfect wedding too.” Jiang Yanli says gently, her smile becoming anything but demure now, and how Jin Zixuan could do anything but fall down on his knees in the face of it is beyond Nie Mingjue.
(real talk - 7k in to my first foray into MDZS on a nmj/jyl fic and 5k is just pure gentle smut of their wedding night. this is them getting to know each other and learning to let their guards down and that its okay to love each other and fuck i could ramble for years. pls give feedback if you got any!!!) ((i also just realised this is 1.5k wtf am i doing))
Nie Mingjue had never peeled a lotus root before in his life, but he was finding the activity oddly soothing in a mediative way. When you added in Jiang Yanli’s gentle humming as she prepared what she needed in the kitchen around them, he was fiercely glad she had invited him to cook with her, to spend time with her in such a meaningful way. It made his heart stutter to think that she truly wanted to spend time with him, to get to know him… it had to be a step in the right direction, surely.
He had minimal knowledge of culinary skills, aside from what he needed to know when out travelling or night-hunting and making your own meal was the only guarantee of food. He knew how to skin and roast a hare, skewer a fish over a stick on a log fire, what basic berries were edible or poisonous, but he had never had the experience of making a complete home meal from scratch.
He watched as she walked with confidence around the kitchen - one he knew she had been sneaking into for a few weeks now – and he felt a surge of affection so strongly he nearly broke the knife in his hand with the sudden clench of his fist. Ah, he thought suddenly, she must feel so comfortable here. He was a fool, he berated himself, for not realising sooner. He wondered how difficult it would be to commission her own private kitchen, instead of her waiting until the cover of night and until all the cooks had left to come to the one place in Qinghe where she clearly felt most secure.
“I was never skilled in cultivation, and I know my mother was always disappointed by that,” She spoke into the still night air quietly, her eyes locked on the soup pot as she checked if the water was boiling correctly. He hummed to let her know he was listening as he kept at his task.
“As a first-born daughter to a powerful Sect leader, I was a disappointment from the beginning. Not that my parents loved me any less,” she spoke in a measured tone, collecting the lotus roots he had finished peeling. “I know my father loved me. My mother loved me too, in her own way; I just wasn’t what she wanted. I was born too small, too delicate, not suited for the exertions that came with a true cultivators life. I smiled too easily, she said, and my voice was too soft. I never spoke back, I always held my tongue, and I was underwhelming in every skill she attempted to teach me.”
She grabbed a package of herbs Nie Mingjue couldn’t name from a woven basket he hadn’t noticed earlier, and placed a small pile in front of herself and handing him a knob of ginger. “Cut it into small pieces, please,” she instructed softly, attending to her own pile of herbs.
“When it came to being a woman in a cultivators world, my mother was the exception. I think she hoped I would be too, and she didn’t know how to handle me when I couldn’t do what she did,” she smiled wanly, taking his small pile of ginger pieces and placing them in the small bowl that was blanching the pork ribs.
“I was everything she wasn’t, and I was fine with that. I was a slow learner, she always said, and it was true. Cultivating my golden core was more difficult for me compared to my brothers, and I was never clever enough with academic pursuits.”
“Everyone has their strengths,” he hedged carefully, feeling oddly vulnerable without a task to keep his hands busy. What she was speaking of was hitting very close to his heart, and his concerns with his little brother.
“That’s true,” she smiled at him with crinkled eyes, sliding him half the peeled lotus roots with a gentle, “slice them about a thumbnail thick, please.” He nodded, observing her first few slices and trying to mirror them, the same way he learned his basic sword formations all those years ago.
“I know I’m not strong, or beautiful, or skilled, but I love my brothers. They taught me nearly everything I know. They taught me patience, they taught me diplomacy, they taught me how to handle a multitude of situations -” here, she laughed lightly, shaking her head slightly at some imagined shenanigans, he assumed, “- and they helped teach me my own value. Not everyone has to be great with a sword to have worth, or have a golden core to be important. Sometimes acknowledgement, love and care, understanding, and a warm meal can be priceless.”
She grasped a pair of nearby chopsticks and fished the pork ribs and pieces of ginger out of their small pot, adding each one into the larger boiling soup pot. She then added the herbs and her sliced lotus roots in next, indicating for him to do the same. He nodded, collecting all his sliced lotus roots in a single handful - compared to the three handfuls it took her - and placed them in the pot too, a strange feeling welling in his chest as she used a ladle to mix all the ingredients together.
“I know I’m not what you envisioned in a wife, and I know others perceive me as weak,” she turned to look at him now, her gaze never wavering from his eyes as she took one of his hands in her two tiny ones, and all he could think was I have never felt hands this soft in my entire life, “but I truly hope I am able to offer something to you in this marriage. Before, I had been promised to another who never chose me and I lived my life knowing it was all my parents ever thought I was fit for. I had watched their own volatile marriage, and resigned myself to my own with a man who didn’t want me. Now we have a choice, and I want it to be the right one for both of us,” her eyes had begun glistening with tears at this point and Nie Mingjue felt his own beginning to water in response. And people call me a brute, he thought with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Lady Jiang, anyone who perceives you as weak or lacking are fools. I saw how fiercely you defended Wei Wuxian at Phoenix Mountain and how politely you tore strips off that Jin boy. You are well aware of my own reputation, I’m sure,” he snorted, knowing exactly what image others had tried to paint of him in her mind, “and to have come here regardless, and bear your heart and intentions to me, I would have to have a head full of rocks to see you as anything but my equal.”
He paused, taking a moment to really think about what he was going to say as he knew this woman would take whatever he said to heart, and it felt only right to return what she had revealed to him tonight. He placed his free hand on the two that was cupping his other, feeling his heart jump at the smile she gave him.
“I can be ill-tempered, uncompromising, and socially blunt to the point my brother has said a blow to the head would be more subtle,” he chuckled here, feeling his chest warm as Jiang Yanli huffed a laugh with him. “You are everything I am not, Lady Jiang, and that is a good thing. You are brave, and beautiful, and something I had never expected I would find in my life. Let me court you, Jiang Yanli. Let us make this work.”
Nie Mingjue was startled as new tears suddenly fell from her eyes, following the near exact same track as the last set from a few moments ago.
“I would like nothing more,” she said sincerely, her smile blinding him as he reached out to wipe them away with his thumb.
Ah, maybe time to lighten the air.
“Now, how long until our hard work bears fruit?” He asked, looking over at the soup they had made together.
“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? We will need to wait until at least morning to enjoy it,” she laughed cheekily as she pulled away from him, turning around to take hold of a small woven basket he hadn’t noticed before. “I suspected you might like something a little more immediate though, so I made something for you a little earlier.” She was blushing as she handed him the box, oddly quiet as he opened the lid.
“Your brother mentioned you liked sweet things, so I hope this suits your tastes,” she bowed slightly towards him as he looked at the delicate osmanthus cakes hidden within, marveling at the fine flower detailing on the top that he could swear looked finer than any detailing he had seen on any cake before.
“Lady Jiang, if I hadn’t asked to court you just now, I can assure you that this would have certainly done the trick.” A laugh startled out of him as he soaked in the situation. A beautiful woman, wooing him with cakes. Truly, had the world gone mad? He smiled wider as she laughed with him, her eyes filled with more joy than he had ever seen in her before.
The steam between them climbs higher and higher, but Nie Mingjue can still find Jiang Yanli through it all, his eyes drawn to the soft curve of her chin, to the gentle line of her neck, and then lower, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t get the chance to linger there. Jiang Yanli’s arms are already wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer, one hand petting the back of his head.
“Are you planning on drowning me?” Nie Mingjue lets his arms circle around Jiang Yanli’s middle, hot water rushing over him and lapping at his chin as he finally does as he’s told. If Jiang Yanli wanted to drown him, Nie Mingjue thinks that he might be able to go calmly, with the sound of Jiang Yanli’s heartbeat in his ear.
It wasn’t enough that they were sneaking around. It wasn’t even enough that he’d led her away from her bed in the middle of the night like some sort of dark spirit that feasted on maiden’s hearts. He had been the one to bring Jiang Yanli to a hot spring, tucked away in the rocky parts of Qinghe’s mountains, though she had been the one to step out of her robes first. She’d even looked over her shoulder at him and grinned, and then she’d jumped into the water before he could stop her.
There’d been nothing left to do but follow her in.
“How could I drown you?” Jiang Yanli asks, her wet hair clinging to her face and to her throat, “We flew here on your saber.” Nie Mingjue brushes it away without a second thought and water creeps further up his back, wetting his hair.
“You could fly back on your own, Baxia likes you better.” Baxia had seemed pleased the very second Jiang Yanli had stepped onto her surface, Nie Mingjue thinks he heard something similar to a purr, but he can’t blame Baxia for it. Jiang Yanli hums quietly and Nie Mingjue feels it against his cheek. It doesn’t prepare him for the softness or the warmth of Jiang Yanli’s smile, nor does it prepare him for the relief that spreads through him as Jiang Yanli smooths her hands down his back.
It’s nearly relief enough to make Nie Mingjue close his eyes and rest, letting Jiang Yanli do what she pleases with him just as long as she keeps stroking his back, but a worry that had rooted itself firmly in his stomach earlier rises up again, his fingers pressing against her sides for just a moment as he lifts his head to look at her.
There hadn’t been time enough for Jiang Yanli to put her hair up and now it shines loose in the moonlight, though only the stars are reflected in her eyes. Nie Mingjue almost doesn’t speak, as if he doesn’t dare break whatever spell she’s under, and in the end, Nie Mingjue isn’t the one who speaks first, Jiang Yanli’s voice rings out sweetly in the water around them. “Doesn’t it bother you that my cultivation is poor?” Her hand goes still against his back and for a moment, all Nie Mingjue can do is gawk up at her, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.
Slowly, Nie Mingjue sits up, and Jiang Yanli lets him, though she lets her hands rest against his shoulders. His hands sit on her hips and his mouth goes dry. Jiang Yanli doesn’t look bothered, she looks as if she’d just asked him something obvious, and now she’s waiting for an answer, but an answer refuses to come.
“Doesn’t it bother you that I asked you to come away with me tonight even though we aren’t even engaged?” If they were seen coming or going, Jiang Yanli’s reputation would be ruined, but she doesn’t seem to care. Jiang Yanli’s smile drops away a little as she shakes her head, her hands dropping off of Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and down to his elbows.
“I know I should be, but I’m not bothered at all.” Neither of them had been loud before, but they may as well have been shouting compared to how quietly Jiang Yanli speaks, “I was engaged to Young Master Jin for so long, and yet I never knew him that well. He always seemed exhausted and frustrated by me that I stopped trying.”
Nie Mingjue isn’t a jealous man, he isn’t, but something akin to jealousy still rises up in his throat when Jiang Yanli brings up her previous engagement, the taste of it bitter in his mouth. Jiang Yanli disperses it entirely when she leans forward suddenly, her head against his shoulder and her fingers curling against his chest.
Wrapping his arms around her is an instinct that Nie Mingjue can’t fight, his mouth pressed against the top of her head.
“I haven’t been engaged to you at all, but I’ve had the chance to know you, to know what you like and what you don’t.” Jiang Yanli presses her face harder against his shoulder before she continues, drawing herself in tighter, “I don’t believe that you’ve done all of this with the intention of playing around with me, Sect Leader Nie, but if you have, we’re both to blame.”
Jiang Yanli’s hair is soft against his hand as Nie Mingjue cradles the back of her head, keeping her as close as he dares. He should say something. He should tell her that he’s not playing around, that she doesn’t have to hold herself so tightly, but the words lodge and tangle in his throat, threatening to choke him, even as he presses a kiss against her hair.
“The state of Lady Jiang’s core does not bother me.” Nie Mingjue wishes he could have said anything but that, but it’s an honest answer, one that he doesn’t have to pull back and try to correct. It’s his turn to run his hand up and down the length of Jiang Yanli’s back, his fingertips combing through her wet hair, even if it all falls back into place. He would braid it for her someday soon.
Still tucked against his shoulder, Jiang Yanli starts and tries to look up at him, but Nie Mingjue keeps her from pulling far enough away. If she looks into his eyes now, she’ll see everything he is and everything he feels for her. It would smother the both of them. Jiang Yanli’s hand presses against Nie Mingjue’s jaw, her thumb stroking over his bottom lip. Nie Mingjue squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to breathe before he reaches down carefully, his hand against Jiang Yanli’s lower dantian. His core is stronger than hers, Nie Mingjue knows that, but he still reaches out as gently as he can, his spiritual energy reaching out to hers and hoping that he won’t be rejected. Jiang Yanli gasps, her nails dig into his chest, but she doesn’t push him away. Her energy wraps around his cautiously, allowing the connection and spreading warmth through Nie Mingjue all over again.
“It feels nice.” Jiang Yanli’s voice is only in his ear now, refusing to climb higher than a murmur. Nie Mingjue doesn’t know if he’d pulled her into his lap or if she’d drifted there herself, but he won’t push her away, not when she’s clinging to him in a way he’s only dreamed of. “I didn’t know that it would, all the stories and the books are always vague, no one told me that it would feel like this.”
“It’s warm,” Nie Mingjue confirms, finally able to pull back and look down at Jiang Yanli without fear of telling her anything and everything with just his eyes. She would have it figured out soon enough, she’s clever.
“Like the medicine they used to give me.” Jiang Yanli says it almost absentmindedly, and Nie Mingjue can’t help but laugh, one arm tightening around her while the other hand drifts away from her dantian, severing the connection of their spiritual energy to press his hand to her cheek. For a moment, the lack of a connection makes Nie Mingjue want to shiver, but Jiang Yanli’s eyes are alight with the glow of the stars again, though she’s facing him now, both of her hands wrapping around his wrist.
“It’s a shame that Sect Leader Nie is so serious all the time,” Jiang Yanli’s smile grows while she teases him, mischief playing in her eyes, even as she turns her face against his palm to press a kiss there, “no one else gets to see how handsome he is when he laughs.” Jiang Yanli’s kiss burns against his hand like a welcome brand. It’s the first time she’s kissed any part of him and Nie Mingjue already knows that it isn’t enough, that it wouldn’t ever be enough until he could hold her and kiss her until both of their lips were bruised, and even then, Nie Mingjue isn’t sure he’d ever be satisfied.
“It’s Qinghe’s best kept secret, Lady Jiang.” Nie Mingjue teases her right back, his thumb stroking underneath Jiang Yanli’s eye and wiping away a droplet of water that had had the privilege of landing there at some point, “Now that you’ve figured it out, I’ll have to marry you to make sure you keep it a secret.” Jiang Yanli considers him carefully, her thumbs finding his pulse and pressing against it before her smile turns into a grin.
“Does Sect Leader Nie intend on keeping me locked away so I’ll have no choice but to keep his secret?” Idly, Jiang Yanli kicks her feet, splashing water on the both of them, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t have a third hand to grab onto her calf with, though if he could, he would. Instead, Nie Mingjue turns his face stony as he looks down at Jiang Yanli, his hand sliding off of her cheek and down to her throat, taking a moment to press his thumb against her bottom lip, just like she’d done to him.
“House arrest wouldn’t be an effective punishment for Lady Jiang, I’ll have to take special precautions to keep her quiet.” Jiang Yanli’s head tilts back and she swallows as Nie Mingjue’s fingers brush against the hollow of her throat, the movement of it minute enough to make Nie Mingjue lean in closer, his eyes dragging back up to her lips.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what kind of precautions Sect Leader Nie means.” There’s a soft shake to Jiang Yanli’s words, but she doesn’t look away from him, “Might I have an example of Sect Leader Nie’s punishment?”
It’s tempting to keep teasing her, but Nie Mingjue is only a man, and he kisses Jiang Yanli before he’s aware that he’s already done it. He kisses her until Jiang Yanli slaps her palm against his shoulder twice, a signal that she needs to breathe, but it’s tempting to keep right on going, at least until she bites at his bottom lip, her teeth sharp, but quick. She doesn’t even draw blood.
“Sect Leader Nie will have to do that several times a day if he wants to ensure my silence.” Jiang Yanli says breathlessly, her chest heaving against Nie Mingjue. Her arms wrap tight around his neck again, pressing the two of them as close as they possibly can and Nie Mingjue holds her just as tightly, his cheek pressed against the top of her head.
They would have to leave soon. Jiang Yanli would have to sneak back to her room and Nie Mingjue would have to let her go back alone. They would both have to hope that no one noticed that they were missing from their beds, and that if they did, that they wouldn’t put two and two together. Nie Mingjue almost can’t believe they’d been so careless, he hadn’t even cast an illusion or given Jiang Yanli enough time to rearrange the pillows in her guest room so it looked as if she’d been in her bed all night, but it had been worth it.
“I meant it,” Nie Mingjue says it softly, letting his lips brush against Jiang Yanli’s ear and letting his hand stroke up and down her back. Swallowing thickly, Nie Mingjue pushes the words out carefully, “Jiang Yanli if you’ll have me, I’ll marry you before you and your brothers leave for Lotus Pier next week.”
“I’d marry you tonight if I could.” Jiang Yanli answers him with a kiss against the crook of his neck. Her arms threaten to choke him, and if they did, Nie Mingjue could die happily. “Let me tell A-Cheng and A-Xian, they’ll behave better if I tell them first.”
“A-Sang will be a nightmare no matter when or how I tell him.” Nie Mingjue kisses Jiang Yanli’s temple as she laughs, “We ought to elope.”
“We’ll say I took your virtue and that you had no choice.”
Nie Mingjue snorts before he stands, Jiang Yanli still held carefully in his arms, as if she were precious and breakable.
Jiang Yanli swings her legs idly as Nie Mingjue carries them back towards where their clothes lay discarded on the ground, star-bright eyes hidden against Nie Mingjue’s shoulder and one hand pressed against his heart, her thumb stroking back and forth.
I watched pacific rim for the first time with one of my best friends, so y'know
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“Why isn’t Miss Jiang a pilot?” Nie Mingjue asks, watching as Jiang Yanli reloads the simulation, still unsteady on her feet, but willing to shake it off and try again.
For a moment, Lan Xichen says nothing, his arm hanging in it’s sling while Nie Mingjue crosses his arms over his chest, watching as Jiang Yanli knocks a kaiju into a building on the simulation screen. Glass shatters down around her, but she pays it no mind, moving back into position for the next attack. Nie Mingjue notes with satisfaction that she dodges the kaiju as if she were dancing with it.
“Do you remember the single pilot jaegers that came out of Wuhan?” Lan Xichen asks carefully, his eyebrows knitting together and his fingers curling into the fabric of the sling. His arm had only been dislocated, it hadn’t been a break, Nie Mingjue tries to remind himself of that.
The single pilot jaegers had been intended to minimize damage and bolster the dual pilot jaegers. They’d been smaller, less of a risk for a single pilot to move, but Nie Mingjue had seen enough of them thrown around to know why they’d been retired. “I remember one of them getting ripped to shreds with the pilot still in it.” Everyone had seen the pictures and the news coverage after it had happened, but the pilot’s name had been scrubbed from any available sources, along with any information about their life or death afterwards.
“That jaeger’s pilot was heavily injured and required years of physical therapy, but the jaeger itself was unsalvageable,” Lan Xichen adds, and they both watch as Jiang Yanli refuses to allow herself to be moved by the kaiju, pushing it back with all the force it had shown her. Encouragement pushes at Nie Mingjue’s throat and he nearly sets it loose. He almost throws the winning punch with Jiang Yanli, a smile slipping past him as a successful mission message spreads across the screen.
“What are you getting at, Xichen?” Nie Mingjue asks, the sound of his voice betraying him as he watches Jiang Yanli begin to remove the simulation equipment, wires catching on each other and tangling around her ankles. Nie Mingjue wants to go over and help her.
“Miss Jiang was the pilot of the Violet Lotus.” Lan Xichen finally admits, and Nie Mingjue feels his eyes widen and his mouth fall open as he looks back and forth between them. “Marshal Yu designed the jaeger with her daughter in mind, the decision to retire them was hers, as was the decision that Jiang Yanli would never pilot alone again.”
“Has she been tested for drift compatibility?” Nie Mingjue asks the question too quickly, his hands curling into fists as he watches Jiang Yanli shake her hair free of the helmet. For the first time, she sees both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen and smiles at them.
“Marshal Yu won’t allow it, both Miss Jiang and myself have asked.”
There’s a level of frustration in Lan Xichen’s voice, as if he’d gone round after round with Marshal Yu on Jiang Yanli’s behalf, but she’d refused to budge.
“Does Miss Jiang want to pilot again?” Nie Mingjue asks, much more carefully this time as he grips the metal railing tightly. Lan Xichen doesn’t answer him, but he nods, his eyes still facing Jiang Yanli’s near perfect score that’s still on the screen. When Nie Mingjue looks over, Lan Xichen’s fingers are curled into his sling again. “When can we run the neural handshake?”
“Marshal Yu is leaving in a week to try and bargain for funds again, we’ll swear Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin to secrecy and try it then. Do you think Baxia will tolerate another pilot?”
“I’m not worried about Baxia, she listens to who she likes.”
Jiang Yanli’s hands lay still in her lap while Nie Mingjue braids her hair, his fingers working quickly and gently. The tip of his tongue is between his teeth in concentration, and Jiang Yanli can’t help but smile at his reflection in the mirror, her eyes growing impossibly soft. He’d already brushed her hair out, the comb passing from her hand to his when he’d come to stand at her back this morning, his own hair still unbrushed and unbraided.
She’d done her own hair for the first few weeks after they’d married, simple plaits that she’d done quickly and found Nie Mingjue sitting up in their bed, watching her with something soft on his face. Jiang Yanli hadn’t shied away from smiling back at him and rushing over to kiss that soft look. His arms had wrapped around her tightly, and she’d allowed herself to be pulled back into their bed, the blankets still just as warm as she’d left them.
“Does my wife find something funny?” Nie Mingjue asks, the ghost of a grin on his own face as he twists three braids together before pinning them in place with a small clip that used to be his before he’d given it easily to Jiang Yanli one morning and failed to take it back the next.
A giggle leaves her before Jiang Yanli can stop it, her hand reaching back as one of his lands on her shoulder, her thumb stroking over calloused fingers. She wants to press a kiss to his knuckles, but she’s learned by now not to turn her head when Nie Mingjue braids her hair for her. “I was only thinking about how you’ve done my hair for me nearly every morning since we’ve been married.”
Nie Mingjue’s smile grows, and for a moment, Jiang Yanli thinks he won’t say anything, though he does squeeze her shoulder before he takes his hand away. “When I was a boy, I came into my parents’ room one morning and found my father braiding my mother’s hair for her.” A pair of tiny, thin braids are set over Jiang Yanli’s shoulder for a moment as Nie Mingjue begins to work on another section, braiding up from the bottom and keeping it in place by pinching the section between the knuckles of his middle finger.
Jiang Yanli watches him carefully in the mirror, something faraway slipping into his eyes, even as he reaches for a hairpin with glass flowers on one end. “I didn’t know it then, but my mother had gotten sick enough that she couldn’t bear to lift her arms to braid her hair by herself at times, but my father was always there when she couldn’t. He never complained, and he only mentioned it to me when I asked him later.”
“He told you about your mother’s illness?” Jiang Yanli asks, turning to face him once her hair is pinned in place, his hands warm on both of her shoulders. The smile on Nie Mingjue’s face doesn’t waver as he shakes his head, nor does it fade as he drops down to one knee beside her.
“He only told me he did it because he loved her.”
The words steal Jiang Yanli’s breath from her lungs, even as she reaches forward with one hand and strokes Nie Mingjue’s hair out of his face, even as she blinks something wet away from her eyes.
“My husband will allow me to braid his hair for him, won’t he?” Jiang Yanli asks quietly, letting her hand linger on Nie Mingjue’s cheek and leaning in to rest her forehead against his, a smile blooming across her face when she feels him nod.
Jiang Yanli’s hands are quick and gentle as she runs them through Nie Mingjue’s hair, making short work of sleep worn tangles before she begins her work in sections, starting at the bottom and working her way up.
When she looks into the mirror, Nie Mingjue is looking at her with softness in his eyes and the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Jiang Yanli smiles back, a blush burning on her cheeks.
