Chapter 3: The Canal-Side Confession
The morning mist had not yet burned off the canal when they stepped out of the Jade Crane Inn, and Caiyi Town was still soft around the edges—muted colors, muffled sounds, the world wrapped in cotton wool.
Wei Wuxian walked close enough to Mingfeng that their sleeves brushed with every step, and he told himself it was because he was still sore, still loose-limbed and aching in ways that made his stride careful. He told himself it had nothing to do with the thread between them, pulled taut and humming.
He was lying, and he knew it.
The wooden walkway along the eastern canal creaked beneath their feet, slick with dew. Lanterns swayed overhead, their flames pale ghosts in the morning light, and the water below caught the sky and held it—silver and rose and the faintest hint of gold where the sun was fighting its way through the clouds. The smell of steamed buns drifted from somewhere ahead, mingled with the sharp green scent of lotus leaves and the faint rot of the canal's underbelly.
"Your father," Wei Wuxian said, because the silence had stretched too long and he couldn't stand it anymore. "What's he planning?"
Mingfeng's stride didn't falter, but something in his posture shifted—a tightening, a bracing. His hand found Wei Wuxian's elbow and steered him to the side of the walkway, away from the open water, away from the window of a nearby teahouse where an old man was already sweeping the steps.
"Not here," he murmured. "Walk with me. Look normal."
"I always look normal."
"You look like you've been up all night." Mingfeng's mouth twitched. "Which you have. But we don't need to advertise it."
Wei Wuxian snorted, but he let himself be guided. They walked past the teahouse, past a row of closed stalls where merchants were just beginning to set up their wares, past a small shrine to some forgotten river god with incense stubs burned down to nothing.
Finally, Mingfeng spoke.
"My father has been gathering power for years. Not openly—not yet—but the signs are there. Alliances made in shadow. Promises exchanged over wine. He's been positioning himself, laying groundwork." His voice was low, controlled, but there was something underneath it—a tremor, carefully suppressed. "I started collecting evidence three years ago. Correspondence. Ledgers. Proof of what he's done and what he intends to do."
Wei Wuxian's heart hammered. "What does he intend to do?"
"Take control. Of everything. The other sects, the cultivation world, the mortal courts—he wants it all." Mingfeng's jaw tightened. "He's been building toward it for decades. And now he's almost ready."
"And what happens when he's ready?"
"War." The word fell like a stone into still water. "Or something worse. He wants to consolidate power before anyone realizes what's happening. The other sects will be caught off guard. Divided. It won't take much to break them."
Wei Wuxian's mouth was dry. "And you're going to stop him."
"I'm going to try."
"How?"
Mingfeng stopped walking. They had reached a quieter stretch of the canal, where the walkway narrowed and the buildings pressed close. A small bridge arched overhead, its wood dark with age, and the water beneath it was shadowed and still.
"I need to get back to Qishan," Mingfeng said. "I need to gather more evidence. There are documents in my father's private study—letters, records of his meetings. If I can get my hands on them, I'll have enough to bring to the other sect leaders. To the Jin.The Jiang. The Lan." He paused. "To your sect."
Wei Wuxian's stomach twisted. "You want to bring this to Jiang-zongzhu."
"I want to bring this to anyone who will listen. But yes." Mingfeng's eyes met his. "Your sect leader—Jiang Fengmian. He's known for his fairness. His dedication to the principles of the cultivation world. If anyone will believe me, it's him."
"You don't know him."
"No. But I know his reputation. And I know you." Mingfeng's voice softened. "You were raised by him. If you think he'll listen, that's enough for me."
Wei Wuxian looked away. The canal was a mirror beneath the bridge, and in it he could see the two of them reflected—one tall and broad-shouldered, one lean and dark-haired, standing close enough that their shadows merged.
"He'll listen," he said quietly. "But he'll ask questions. He'll want proof. And he'll want to know—" He stopped.
"Know what?"
"Who you are. What your connection is to me. And what it means for the future."
Mingfeng was silent for a moment. Then he stepped forward, his hand finding Wei Wuxian's shoulder, his thumb tracing the line of his collarbone through the fabric of his robe.
"Then we'll tell him the truth," he said. "Whatever that is."
Wei Wuxian's chest ached. "The truth is complicated."
"The truth is always complicated." Mingfeng's hand slid up, cupping his jaw, tilting his face up. "But I'm not going to lie. Not to the man who raised you. Not to anyone." His thumb brushed over Wei Wuxian's lower lip. "I'm not ashamed of this. Of you. Of whatever this is."
Something cracked open in Wei Wuxian's chest—something old and scarred and fragile. His eyes stung, and he blinked rapidly, looking away.
"Don't," he said. "Don't—"
"Don't what?"
"Don't be kind to me." His voice was rough. "I don't know what to do with kind."
Mingfeng's hand didn't move. It stayed cradled against his cheek, warm and solid and unhurried. "Then learn."
They stood there for a long moment, the canal babbling beneath them, the mist beginning to thin as the sun climbed higher. Wei Wuxian breathed in the smell of sandalwood and morning air and something that felt almost like hope, and he let himself lean into the touch, just for a second.
Then he stepped back and straightened his shoulders.
"Tell me the rest," he said. "How much time do we have?"
"Weeks. Maybe days." Mingfeng's expression darkened. "My father suspects something. He's subtle—he won't move against me openly until he has proof—but he's watching. I've seen the way his spies look at me."
"Then why come to Caiyi? Why risk leaving?"
Mingfeng hesitated. Then he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small jade token, carved with the Wen sect's flame insignia. "Correspondence," he said. "I intercepted a letter from my father to one of his agents. Someone here in Caiyi. I need to find them, find out what they're planning, before I go back."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know. The letter was coded." Mingfeng's fingers closed around the token. "But I have a name. A meeting place. Tonight."
Wei Wuxian's eyes narrowed. "You're going."
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"The fuck you are."
Mingfeng's eyebrow arched. "Wei Ying—"
"No." Wei Wuxian stepped forward, his hand fisting in the front of Mingfeng's robe. "I'm not letting you walk into a trap alone. Not when you don't know what you're walking into. What if it's an ambush? What if your father's already figured out what you're doing?"
"Then I'll handle it."
"Like hell you will." Wei Wuxian's grip tightened. "I'm coming with you. And before you argue," he added, because Mingfeng had opened his mouth, "let me remind you that I'm the head disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. I've been trained in swordplay and talismans and every dirty trick in the book. I can handle myself."
Mingfeng stared at him. Then his mouth curved—that almost-smile, the one that made Wei Wuxian's stomach flip.
"I wasn't going to argue," he said.
"You weren't?"
"No." Mingfeng's hand covered Wei Wuxian's, loosening his grip on the robe. "I was going to say that I was hoping you'd insist."
Wei Wuxian blinked. "You were?"
"I don't want to do this alone." Mingfeng's voice was quiet, stripped bare. "I've been alone for three years. Watching. Waiting. Carrying this by myself. And now—" He stopped. Swallowed. "Now I don't want to be alone anymore."
The words hit like a physical blow. Wei Wuxian felt them in his chest, in his throat, in the backs of his eyes. He knew that feeling. He had lived it for years—the loneliness, the weight of secrets, the exhaustion of being the only one who knew.
He knew it intimately.
"Okay," he said."Okay. Tonight. You and me."
Mingfeng's hand tightened around his. "You and me."
"And Huaisang," Wei Wuxian added.
Mingfeng's expression flickered."What?"
"Huaisang. He's my friend. He's loyal, he's smart, and he's been trained in the Qinghe Nie Sect's techniques. He'll have our backs." Wei Wuxian paused. "Also, he'll kill me if I don't include him."
"Is that a euphemism?"
"No. He would literally kill me." Wei Wuxian grinned. "He's very protective. It's annoying."
Mingfeng sighed. It was a sound of deep resignation, but there was a warmth underneath it—a fondness that made Wei Wuxian's chest ache.
"Fine," he said. "The three of us."
"And then?"
"And then—" Mingfeng stepped closer, backing Wei Wuxian against the railing. The wood pressed into his lower back, cold through his robes, and Mingfeng's body was a warm wall in front of him. "Then we stop him. We bring him down. And we make sure the cultivation world survives to see another day."
"And after that?"
Mingfeng's eyes darkened. "After that, I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere far from here. Just us."
Wei Wuxian's breath caught. "Where?"
"I don't know yet." Mingfeng's hand found his waist, fingers splaying wide. "But somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can be alone. No sects, no politics, no destinies. Just—"
"Just us."
"Just us."
Wei Wuxian's heart was pounding. The mist was almost gone now, and the sun had broken through the clouds, painting the canal in shades of gold and green. In the distance, a fisherman was singing—something old and mournful and beautiful—and the world felt far away.
"You keep saying things like that," Wei Wuxian murmured.
"Like what?"
"Like you're planning a future. Like you're planning a future with me."
Mingfeng's eyes met his. "I am."
"And that doesn't scare you?"
"Terrifies me." Mingfeng's voice was soft. "But I'd rather be terrified with you than safe without you."
Wei Wuxian's throat closed. He wanted to say something—something clever, something deflecting—but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he surged forward, his hands fisting in Mingfeng's robes, and kissed him.
It was desperate and hungry and utterly shameless. Mingfeng made a sound against his mouth—surprise, arousal, need—and then his arms were around Wei Wuxian's waist, pulling him close. Their bodies pressed together, hard and wanting, and Wei Wuxian could feel the heat of him even through the layers of silk and cotton.
"Fuck," Mingfeng breathed against his mouth. "You're going to get us arrested."
"Then arrest me." Wei Wuxian bit his lower lip, dragged it between his teeth. "I dare you."
Mingfeng's response was to spin him around, pressing him against the railing. The wood creaked under the sudden weight, and the canal below whispered as the water shifted, but Wei Wuxian didn't care. He didn't care about the open walkway, or the distant sound of vendors setting up their stalls, or the fact that anyone could walk by and see them.
He cared about Mingfeng's hands on his hips, fingers digging in. He cared about Mingfeng's mouth on his neck, teeth scraping over his pulse. He cared about the hard press of Mingfeng's cock against his ass, the heat and weight of it, the promise of what was coming.
"You want this," Mingfeng growled against his ear. "Out here. Where anyone could see."
"Yes." Wei Wuxian's hands gripped the railing, knuckles white. "Fuck yes."
Mingfeng's hand slid around his waist, fingers finding the ties of his robe. They came undone easily, silk whispering against silk, and then Mingfeng's hand was inside, sliding over the flat of his stomach, dipping lower.
"You're already hard," Mingfeng said. His voice was thick, rough. "Fuck. You're so hard for me."
"Always." Wei Wuxian's head fell back against Mingfeng's shoulder. "Always for you. Fuck—"
Mingfeng's fingers wrapped around his cock. The touch was electric, heat spiraling through his body, and Wei Wuxian's hips jerked forward, desperate for more friction. Mingfeng stroked him slowly—deliberately—the pads of his fingers sliding over the head, spreading the wetness that was already leaking.
"You're going to come on my hand," Mingfeng murmured. "Where anyone could see. Where anyone could hear. And then I'm going to fuck you right here, against this railing, until you forget whose name you're screaming."
"Fuck—"
"Say it. Say you want it."
"I want it." Wei Wuxian's voice cracked. "Fuck, Mingfeng, I want it—I want—"
"Then take it."
Mingfeng pulled his hand away. Wei Wuxian made a sound of protest—pitiful, desperate—but then he heard the rustle of fabric behind him, the soft sound of Mingfeng slicking himself up. The oil was still in his sleeve, still warm from their earlier encounter.
And then Mingfeng's cock was pressing against him, blunt and hot, sliding between his cheeks.
"Breathe," Mingfeng whispered.
Wei Wuxian breathed. And Mingfeng pushed inside.
The stretch was instant and brutal—too fast, too much, and precisely what Wei Wuxian wanted. He cried out, a raw, broken sound that echoed off the walls of the canal. His fingers scrabbled at the railing, nails biting into the wood, and he pushed back without meaning to—buried him deeper, split him open.
"Fuck," Mingfeng gasped. "Fuck, you're tight—"
"Move." Wei Wuxian's forehead pressed against the railing. "Mingfeng, move—"
Mingfeng moved. His hips snapped forward, driving into Wei Wuxian with a force that made the railing shudder. The canal below splashed, water slapping against the stone walls, and somewhere in the distance a bird took flight—startled by the sound.
"Ah—ah—fuck—" Wei Wuxian's words were broken, shattered by the rhythm of Mingfeng's thrusts. Each one hit deeper than the last, brushing that spot inside him that made his vision white out. "Fuck—right there—don't you dare stop—"
"Wouldn't dream of it." Mingfeng's voice was a ragged growl. He pulled Wei Wuxian's hips back, changing the angle, and the next thrust made Wei Wuxian sob.
"Shit—shit—"
"You're going to come," Mingfeng said. It wasn't a question. "You're going to come right here, against this railing, with my cock buried in your ass."
"Yes—fuck yes—"
"Then do it." Mingfeng's hand wrapped around his cock again, stroking in time with his thrusts. "Come for me. Right now."
Wei Wuxian came. The orgasm ripped through him—brutal, devastating—and he felt his release spill over Mingfeng's hand, felt his body clench and spasm and squeeze. He heard himself screaming, heard his own voice break halfway through, and he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except the pleasure, hot and sharp and consuming.
Behind him, Mingfeng groaned. His hips stuttered, then slammed forward one last time—deep, bruising—and he came with a sound that might have been Wei Wuxian's name.
They stood there, shaking, the canal whispering below them. The railing creaked softly as they leaned into it, their bodies still pressed together, their breath ragged and uneven. The sun was fully up now, painting the walkway in shades of gold, and the distant sound of vendors and fishermen and children laughing drifted toward them.
Wei Wuxian turned his head. Mingfeng's face was close—close enough to see the sweat dampening his temples, the flush staining his cheeks, the way his eyes were dark and dazed and utterly wrecked.
"You're going to get us arrested," Wei Wuxian said.
Mingfeng's mouth curved. "I dare you."
They stared at each other for a moment. Then Wei Wuxian started to laugh—shaky, breathless, ridiculous—and Mingfeng laughed too, low and warm against his shoulder.
"We should get back," Mingfeng murmured eventually. "Before someone actually does arrest us."
"Probably."
"Wei Ying?"
"Hmm?"
Mingfeng's arms tightened around him. His chin rested on Wei Wuxian's shoulder, and his voice was quiet, almost lost against the sound of the canal.
"I meant what I said. About taking you somewhere. About a future."
Wei Wuxian's chest ached. He stared at the water below, at the reflection of two figures pressed together against the railing, and he felt something shift inside him—something soft and terrifying and inevitable.
"I know," he said quietly. "I know you did."
"I'm not going to let anyone take you from me." Mingfeng's voice was fierce now, a quiet fury burning beneath it. "Not my father. Not the cultivation world. Not anyone. I'll burn it all down first."
Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. The canal whispered beneath them, and the sun was warm on his face, and the world was full of light.
"Then we'll burn it together," he said. "If it comes to that."
Mingfeng was silent for a long moment. Then his arms tightened, and his voice was barely a breath against Wei Wuxian's ear.
"Together," he agreed.
The morning stretched around them—golden and bright and full of danger—and somewhere in the distance, a bell began to toll.