C_Shiru777
Jin Ling doesn't keep a journal.
Not anymore. He's almost a sect leader now, nearly grown, surrounded by expectations he never asked for. Emotions are to be buried, not written down like a child with ink-stained hands.
And yet... there's a book on his desk. A gift from Lan Xichen. Beautiful, heavy, blank.
Until it isn't.
Each night, words appear. His own handwriting-but memories he doesn't recall, emotions he can't face, truths too raw to admit.
Around him, the world is shifting. Wei Wuxian, alive again. Lan Wangji, quiet and unshakable. The two of them-together-pulling at threads Jin Ling thought were safely knotted. And as he watches, observes, resents, and records, the lines between anger and understanding begin to blur.
He never meant to keep a journal.
But the journal kept him.