Work Text:
Wouldn't I make a beautiful bride? Nie Huaisang had asked Jiang Cheng, fan over his mouth, his tone light and his eyes wary. Couldn't we pretend, Jiang-xiong?
They had indulged in the shared lie. Pretending that there was no war looming, that the Red Blade Master would live out the decade, that Nie Huaisang was a girl, soft and yielding but always, always sure of what she wanted.
But sometimes Nie Huaisang would shoot a glance at him at another endless, tedious banquet, and Jiang Cheng, his skin heating, would wonder how much of a lie it had really been.