[ Jiang Cheng never once imagined that he would be a doting and tender husband.
When he had been younger, his mother had spoken to him of his role as a future sect leader, that he would have to find an appropriate wife and wed her for the future of their clan. She would have to be strong enough to give them a good heir, but decent (in all terms of the word) to be well accepted. The Jiang Sect, she had said, were welcoming, but distinguished, and as the fifth most eligible bachelor in the cultivation world he had to be prepared to be honourable and good to her.
He did not dwell overmuch on how she funnelled her frustrations with her father into the narration.
The loss of his golden core had changed it all. He was no longer the prized heir, no longer the bounty of a great gentry sect, but was instead a nothing; a cultivator with no cultivation, with burned ashes to offer in proposal. Desperation had him clinging to his sister upon their reunion, trying to adapt to their new normal, to find some plan for future, and there was only one open: she could not marry into the Jin family and have Yunmeng swallowed by their greed, so it was down to Jiang Cheng to make an advantageous marriage.
The truth is that he had been shocked when Lan Xichen had entertained the formal proposal, more so when the negotiations had led to a wedding. Even as they made their bows, he had thought that his betrothed might change his mind, realise what kind of creature he was binding himself to. There would be no hope of cultivating to immortality with Jiang Cheng as a husband, but... They would have many years together. The bows had been done, and the marriage night had been tense, but sweet enough, and now it is weeks later and Jiang Cheng is trying to find his place as the spouse of the leader of Gusu Lan.
Tonight, he returns to their rooms as silently as he can, sliding the door behind him. He has spent hours in the library, copying books so the students have more to use, and he is doing all that he can to be as out of the way as possible, to not disturb the work of the famed Zewu-jun. He has no desire for his barbed tongue to damage their tentative peace, and it means that as he slips through he does not notice the table, shifted so slightly, nor is he able to stop himself as he trips and collapses forward.
@lxc; arranged marriage au.
When he had been younger, his mother had spoken to him of his role as a future sect leader, that he would have to find an appropriate wife and wed her for the future of their clan. She would have to be strong enough to give them a good heir, but decent (in all terms of the word) to be well accepted. The Jiang Sect, she had said, were welcoming, but distinguished, and as the fifth most eligible bachelor in the cultivation world he had to be prepared to be honourable and good to her.
He did not dwell overmuch on how she funnelled her frustrations with her father into the narration.
The loss of his golden core had changed it all. He was no longer the prized heir, no longer the bounty of a great gentry sect, but was instead a nothing; a cultivator with no cultivation, with burned ashes to offer in proposal. Desperation had him clinging to his sister upon their reunion, trying to adapt to their new normal, to find some plan for future, and there was only one open: she could not marry into the Jin family and have Yunmeng swallowed by their greed, so it was down to Jiang Cheng to make an advantageous marriage.
The truth is that he had been shocked when Lan Xichen had entertained the formal proposal, more so when the negotiations had led to a wedding. Even as they made their bows, he had thought that his betrothed might change his mind, realise what kind of creature he was binding himself to. There would be no hope of cultivating to immortality with Jiang Cheng as a husband, but... They would have many years together. The bows had been done, and the marriage night had been tense, but sweet enough, and now it is weeks later and Jiang Cheng is trying to find his place as the spouse of the leader of Gusu Lan.
Tonight, he returns to their rooms as silently as he can, sliding the door behind him. He has spent hours in the library, copying books so the students have more to use, and he is doing all that he can to be as out of the way as possible, to not disturb the work of the famed Zewu-jun. He has no desire for his barbed tongue to damage their tentative peace, and it means that as he slips through he does not notice the table, shifted so slightly, nor is he able to stop himself as he trips and collapses forward.
No hope for quiet, then. ]
Shit...