"She was kind. The Jiang Sect always seeks to achieve the impossible and my sister did it by attempting to offer love and kindness to everyone, even those who might not have deserved it." There's no point discussing who he might be thinking about - whether he means her husband or Wei Wuxian or someone else. Jiang Yanli had always been one of the most wonderful and perfect people he had ever met, and he can't ignore the way that he misses her, the kind of desperation that burns through him.
Whenever he thinks of her he feels himself slipping back into something he had been before, the child that he had been forced to abandon when the Sunshot Campaign had happened. He sits up a little straighter, back seeming like someone had placed a plank down his robes, his arms settling back into his lap. There's no time for idle relaxation when he's trying to emulate the person his sister had always thought him to be, especially when Jin Ling glances back at the sadness in his voice and the way he moves, anxious and uncertain all at once.
His eyes glance over to Xichen when he coughs and he feels his own throat feel a little tight. He wants to lean over and comfort him but doesn't dare - he can't put himself nor the other man in that position. It feels too cruel.
Still, he nods his head, looking at his nephew with a kind of softness no one else would ever hope to see.
"I have tried to make it, but I'm too..." He shakes his head. Cooking has never been his strong suit, not with his anger and his hurt and his regrets. Maybe that comes across in the meal, or perhaps he simply puts so much lotus into it that the bitterness comes from the imbalance of the flavours. He can't be sure what he does wrong.
"We went to the Mounds together because she wanted to show him her wedding dress." He shakes his head, trying to not let his hurt and anger seep into his words. "So she made soup and we travelled together and she had him pick the name. She never forgot about him, no matter what things he did." Terrible or good, in her eyes Wei Wuxian was perfect, or as near to it as anyone. It was the same as his father.
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Whenever he thinks of her he feels himself slipping back into something he had been before, the child that he had been forced to abandon when the Sunshot Campaign had happened. He sits up a little straighter, back seeming like someone had placed a plank down his robes, his arms settling back into his lap. There's no time for idle relaxation when he's trying to emulate the person his sister had always thought him to be, especially when Jin Ling glances back at the sadness in his voice and the way he moves, anxious and uncertain all at once.
His eyes glance over to Xichen when he coughs and he feels his own throat feel a little tight. He wants to lean over and comfort him but doesn't dare - he can't put himself nor the other man in that position. It feels too cruel.
Still, he nods his head, looking at his nephew with a kind of softness no one else would ever hope to see.
"I have tried to make it, but I'm too..." He shakes his head. Cooking has never been his strong suit, not with his anger and his hurt and his regrets. Maybe that comes across in the meal, or perhaps he simply puts so much lotus into it that the bitterness comes from the imbalance of the flavours. He can't be sure what he does wrong.
"We went to the Mounds together because she wanted to show him her wedding dress." He shakes his head, trying to not let his hurt and anger seep into his words. "So she made soup and we travelled together and she had him pick the name. She never forgot about him, no matter what things he did." Terrible or good, in her eyes Wei Wuxian was perfect, or as near to it as anyone. It was the same as his father.