in twilight; in the dead of night

i. smothered flame

Blood.

Dried, brown blotches. Iron blocked his nose and clogged his throat.

There were bloodstains on his dishevelled and dirty robes. No longer the light shade of blue or rich purple colours of his sect. Unbefitting the future heir of a major sect.

His mother would reprimand him. She would have him kneel before his ancestors until mealtime or whenever Yu-furen deemed his punishment enough to teach him discipline and responsibility fitting for someone of his position. Maybe then he would learn. How dare he tarnish the Jiang family name with his disgraceful appearance? He was not a mere servant boy to act rambunctious and engage in foolery. "Clean yourselves up!" He could almost hear her, voice like the sky booming and electrified with her presence alone. But he could not stand.

Blearily opening his eyes, his tangled mess of hair curtaining his face, Jiang Cheng could only roll his head from side to side. The room was dark with non-existent windows and light flooding in under the gap between the floor and door from outside. There were cheers and laughter, as far as he could tell. Drunken words strung together into a song with an off-beat rhythm of some instrument accompanying it. Terribly sung.

Belatedly, he recognised where he was and how the usual rowdiness of junior disciples running along the piers and the practised clash of metal and wooden swords in the courtyard were replaced by the faint wails and screams of the people he grew up with. Belatedly, after tugging his hands from their uncomfortable position above his head but the restraints would not budge, the cloud in his mind started clearing. Then, and only then, did the emptiness, darkness and coldness start to seep into his bones. The painful flare of his right shoulder that was twisted unnaturally, his clothes stuck to his skin, crusts of blood drying on his lips, chin and his chest. His head throbbed, threatening to pull him back to oblivion so he wouldn't know what they would do to him next. Except he couldn't. Jiang Cheng was nothing if not a fighter -- stubborn and prideful to a fault. Even with one foot in death's door, he forced his eyes open and held his head upright. He forced another lungful of air even though his body struggled. Who was he if not a fighter, a survivor?

Jiang Cheng forced more air into his lungs with each gulp, forced his body still from trembling like a leaf, and forced himself from dry coughing because of how sore his throat was. His cracked lips must've meant something too, right?

There was an emptiness within him now that he remembered -- perhaps that was why he shivered so much? The first and final time that he dared to be selfish was to go against everything he was taught since he was old enough. The first and only time he rejected his station as a sect heir and acted upon his impulses as a friend, a brother, and one of the remaining family of three, Jiang Cheng wondered if Wei Wuxian would honour his wishes and escape to safety with his sister now. Knowing how he was, perhaps he was running around like a headless chicken searching for him.

A humourless chuckle trickled from his lips. His shoulders and back were simultaneously numb and throbbing as if he was crushed beneath a boulder. Weighted and immovable except downwards onto his restrained form. So weak and pitiful. Yu Ziyuan would be disgraced to know how her son turned out after mere moments of sacrificing her life for his chance of survival. He'd become an unfilial child instead. Jiang Fengmian was right after all; he never understood their sect motto. He couldn't embody it even when Lotus Pier flowed through his veins, when he grew beneath her shades and swam in her rivers, couldn't understand why no matter what he did it was not up to his father's standards despite trying so hard to please and earn one more approving look.

Now that he was out of the picture, perhaps Wei Wuxian could help Jiang Yanli lead their rebuilt sect better than he as its leader. With her temperament, she would be well-suited in diplomacy and politics -- gentle but firm and unforgiving as she was when she needed to be. She just needed the right push -- a guiding hand to be more confident in her position and voice. Jiang Yanli was not a weak woman with no backbone. Her gentleness and obedience were not weaknesses but strengths of character in a predominantly patriarchal world. As the only blood relative left, Jiang Yanli had the right to succeed if anything happened to him and as Yunmeng Jiang's first female sect leader, she had already achieved the impossible. Despite her low cultivation, her strengths in other areas would undoubtedly make up for her inexperience in real combat. She too had studied the responsibilities of a sect heir before he came of age because their mother was insistent that a woman's duty to help her husband extended outside the home too. And if there was another way Jiang Cheng would stand beside her as her sword and shield because, despite everything, his sister was his to protect.

Yet here he was in chains and without his golden core, the only thing that gave him worth and purpose in life. The meagre spiritual energy circulating in him flowed into an empty vessel. His last duty as a brother, however misguided it might seem. He prayed his sister and Wei Wuxian would understand and would not fault him too much. Perhaps they would scold him for being impulsive, threaten him and remind him that his body was not his own anymore. He belonged to the Jiang sect in Lotus Pier, he was Yunmeng. How could he be so self-centred and willing to throw away his life like that?

He could almost imagine his sister's stern gaze, a frown on her face and tears in her eyes and in them would hold his worst fear; disappointment. Maybe then they would see how he was undeserving of the sect leader title if he couldn't even differentiate between the instinctual desire to protect and the well-being of their sect -- or what was left of it, at least. He'd failed before having crossed that bridge, and how shameful it was to get caught by the Wen dogs even with Zidian at his side and no plan of escape than simply to lead them away from his shixiong at the marketplace. The idiot didn't even bother disguising himself! But Jiang Cheng would not fault him. They barely had enough currency and nothing on their backs aside from the clothes they wore and accessories on their person. It would never be enough. How could they survive this, and where would they even go?

The door creaked open and in filtered the soft orange glow from the lanterns outside his confinement. A peek at the darkened sky told him how late it had gotten and how long he'd been gone. A part of him hoped Wei Wuxian would be stupid enough to attempt rescuing him from their old home, but another part of him despaired at being found so hopeless and broken. Was he even worth the rescue when he could no longer cultivate and restore Yunmeng Jiang back to glory?

Laughter and music poured over him, the noise suddenly too overwhelming and a stark contrast to the dull buzzing his ears had grown familiar with since regaining consciousness. The shadows crept closer, with red flames and the sun motif embroidered on the hems and sleeves of distinguished robes. He stared back unflinchingly.

"... the river runs red and the Lotus Pier burns. The Radiant Sun conquers all!"