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Chapter Text

Once upon a time, when the world was more ethereal, more other—a time now washed away from the vagaries of history and memory—the fae of this world left this plane for another, leaving behind one last gift. 

The gift of magic. 

Now, untold centuries later, the magic has been diluted in the blood of humans, permeated into the very fabric of this world. Of course, not everyone had the gifts. Some families–the old and powerful–trained and honed those abilities that were prominent in their bloodline. Others taught themselves what they could, learning by instinct. And then, there was the last category—those who were simply not gifted. Or, if they were, they spent their life unknowing and blind to their potential. 

The problems arose when the last category of people became more prominent, more powerful, more numerous. The solution was simple–hide and stifle all and any magic so that the gifted (or the cursed, opinions differ from person to person) won't be persecuted. 

Years passed, the iron grip over the usage of magic eased–not much, no, but just enough so that it could thrive, carefully, out of sight, but ever-present. In the present day, people turn a blind eye to most magic, unless it's too flashy, too attention-grabbing. There were even governmental departments dedicated to better understanding magical phenomena, to classify and categorise rituals, spells, and abilities. 

One of the most influential developments regarding magic was the launch of the game called Glory. It was modelled after magic and fantasy elements. Whispers circulated about how the game was built with magic. But no consensus was ever reached. Glory became a much-loved sensation, and as more and more people grew to love it, the fear that would be sparked by all things magical changed into awe. 

And yet, above all, the one unspoken rule that was hammered into every child remained true:

If you are magic, keep it close, keep it secret.

Ye Xiu breathed in the cold air, as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his Excellent Era jacket. He took out a cigarette from its case and lit it up. He barely even registered the minute pinprick on his forefinger, used to the routine. He stared blankly at the drop of blood smudged on the top part of his cigarette, wondering why he still kept up the old habit that his family had drilled into him, then he shrugged and brought it to his lips, slowly inhaling. 

To say that things weren't going well for Excellent Era would be a massive understatement. Having been with the team since before its founding, Ye Xiu was hurt, to say the least, that everything he had fought for, everything he had poured his life into was crumbling around him, like a house of cards when faced with a gust of wind. 

Maybe this was inevitable. Maybe not. 

Ye Xiu was brought out of his musings by a shift in the air. He casually swivelled his head to his right. The sensation of magic being performed–a powerful ritual, if he had to guess–tugged at him. A gust of cold air hit him. A sense of wrongness nudged at the boundaries of his awareness. 

Without making a conscious decision, Ye Xiu found himself moving towards the odd sensation. 

'It's drawing me in', Ye Xiu realised. He wasn't sure if this ritual was targeted at him or was being performed so badly by amateurs that it was latching onto other magic-users in an effort to achieve completion by any means necessary. 

There had been stories about how warped rituals, butchered to serve a purpose other than what they were meant for, sucked out the life forces of the casters and pulled at nearby sources of magic to fill in the void created when the nature of the ritual was subverted. Magic, as humans had learnt, came with its own rules and regulations. And those rules were meant to be followed. If not, well… There were enough horror stories, after all, to serve as cautionary tales. 

As for the out-of-control rituals, only mages who were well-trained and extremely powerful could suppress them. Unfortunately for Ye Xiu, though he was quite powerful due to his bloodline, he was not actually well-trained due to his running away at the age of fifteen. 

He reached into the well of power within him and tried to cut the binding between the hungry void and him, and exhaled sharply in surprise when he realised that the ritual actually was targeted at him and it was being conducted (wrongly) by an absolute moron who had no idea about what they were trying to unleash on the world.

Ye Xiu assessed his situation. He couldn't escape the pull. Even dragging his feet cost him precious energy. It felt as if a hook had latched onto him and was pulling on his ribcage. And even if he was able to cut off the link, the backlash would be too tremendous—it could easily wipe out half the city. Ye Xiu took a long minute to curse the people performing the ritual to the deepest pits of hell. 

There was no other choice. He could only go along with it. 

And so, he did, while carefully assimilating as much magic as he could from his surroundings. He had a feeling that he would need it. 

Miles away, Ye Qiu was at home, making himself a cup of tea as he scrolled through the news on his phone. Reading about how Excellent Era had lost yet another match caused Ye Qiu to frown. 

For a long time, he had suspected that things weren't quite peachy in Excellent Era. Even if he couldn't see his brother, the reports he had been getting regarding him—his health, his living conditions, the way he was treated by his team and other pros—painted a dark picture. 

(Ye Qiu was protective over his twin, extremely so. And if he had to use slightly illegal means to keep an eye on his brother's well-being? Ye Qiu didn't even hesitate.)

A faint chill caught him unawares. Ye Qiu turned to check if the windows were open.

They weren't. 

He hummed distractedly and turned to pick up his tea cup, while pocketing his phone. He planned to take a closer look at Ye Xiu’s situation. And if his brother needed help but was too stubborn to ask for it, Ye Qiu would stuff it down his throat, forcefully if required. 

'Stupid brother,' Ye Qiu grumbled within his mind, while inhaling the soothing aroma wafting from the cup. 'Always getting into trouble, never coming h–' 

Pain like he had never felt before hit him with the force of a tsunami. The cup fell from his suddenly nerveless hands, shattering on the floor. 

His knees buckled underneath him, and he hit the ground, his mind full of nothing but loud static. 

Something was constricting his chest, preventing him from being able to breathe. He felt like he was being torn apart, atom by atom, a fiery burn—akin to being set on fire—ravaging through him. 

Collapsing onto the floor, Ye Qiu screamed. 

Su Mucheng wondered where Ye Xiu was. It had been hours since she last saw him and she wasn't able to find him in his usual haunts. Some intangible instinct nagged at her, as though she had forgotten something monumental, combined with the swooping sensation of free fall. The last time she was filled with such an instinct—a desperate need to hurry, to go somewhere before it was too late—was the day she had lost her brother. 

A terrible chill sunk into her bones.

She reached for her winter jacket and strode out of her room, barely holding onto her calm veneer. Someone roughly brushed past her, from within the elevator. A faint smell of rain filled the air. Su Mucheng hitched on a guileless smile as she turned to see who it was. 

Liu Hao sneered at her and walked away with nary an apology. 

The elevator door closed, cutting off the sight of the Vice-Captain disappearing around a corner. Su Mucheng's smile fell. She couldn't stand that man.

Exiting the building, she looked up at the sky, half-expecting thunderclouds. The sky was a clear black with wisps of clouds scattered across the expanse. The stars seemed to invite her to stand and admire them for a while. Su Mucheng breathed in deeply; the hints of petrichor lingering in her senses were washed away by the cool night air.

Turning left, she ambled down the sidewalk, striving to look like a random person casually taking a night-time stroll. After walking around twenty minutes, following the instinct-like voice that whispered further, further, go further in her mind, she turned into a darkened alleyway. She took her phone from her pocket and turned on the flashlight, casting some light on the corners. Her eyes caught on a dark lump behind a dumpster.

Su Mucheng frowned.

There it is, there, there. Take it, take it, take it.

Her carefully-controlled expression barely flickered even when the whispers increased in volume, hissing at her with an urgency that she hadn't felt in years. Her heart beating faster, she reached out with her other hand to the dark mass on the ground. 

She exhaled a shuddering breath, relieved.

It was just a jacket, not a person.

The very next moment her breath caught in her throat, horror filling her, when she realised just whose jacket that was. The whispers took on a manic edge, scratching at her brain, cackling away.

He's gone, he's gone, he's gone. Gone without you. He won't come back. Will he? Won't he? Will he? Won't he? 

The voices paused, a foreign, unholy delight filling her, making her feel sick.

Could he?

Chapter Text

"Where is it?" 

"Uh… We– We don't know." 

"What do you mean you don't know?" 

"Boss, it wasn't in his jacket pocket even though I saw him put it there." 

"We searched in his rooms too. It wasn't there either."

"Could it be with Su Mucheng? I mean, she's the closest to him, right? It’d make sense that he’d have given it to her for safekeeping?" 

A palm smacked on the table, the loud sound silencing the chorus of voices that had piped up to put in their own pieces of wisdom. 

"Are you telling me," Tao Xuan began, the polite expression on his face at odds with the way his eyes glowed an eerie red, like the glowing embers of a fire, "that not only did you lose me my top player but also the top God level account in all of Glory?"

Cui Li, Liu Hao and Chen Yehui stayed silent, heads ducked down, unwilling to provide a target for the wrath brewing in Tao Xuan's eyes. 

"I need an answer," Tao Xuan said, his words a sibilant hiss. 

The three of them looked between themselves. 

"I will not ask again." 

"It was Chen Yehui's idea, Boss!" Cui Li broke first, sweating profusely. He ducked his head down as he spilled the truth, unable to make eye-contact with anyone else in the office room. 

Chen Yehui had come across Liu Hao complaining to a commiserating Cui Li about Ye Qiu’s arrogance and inflexibility. Bitterness had brought them together, a night full of drinking had hatched a plan. Chen Yehui provided the idea and the ritual from his family grimoire, Liu Hao had planned the logistics while Cui Li had gone along with it, eager to see the fall of a legend and afraid to get caught doing something illegal.

Once the entire story was told, all three stood in silence, awaiting judgement. 

Tao Xuan pressed the space between his eyebrows with his forefinger, hard. 

"Chen Yehui, I want One Autumn Leaf found. Liu Hao, you will keep the disappearance of Ye Qiu under wraps. The team should not suspect any foul play. Cui Li, get in touch with PR. We will have to announce Ye Qiu's retirement." 

He paused then, observing the men in front of him through narrowed eyes. 

"I will deal with you three later. Dismissed." 

As the three of them bowed and hurried to the door, Tao Xuan called out one last thing, his voice cracking like a whip behind them. 

"And get me all the information you can find about that damned ritual!" 

Su Mucheng didn't hurry back to Excellent Era. No, she just walked a little bit faster. She was not hurrying because there was no need to hurry. 

The tinge of hysteria in her thoughts said otherwise. 

She tried to find her calm center, filing away the emotions till she could think properly. Unbidden, she recalled a memory of her brother teaching her how to remain calm and composed. A sharp pang hit her, the pain still as acute as it was years ago when she first lost him. The pain didn't decrease, no. Rather, she just became more accustomed to it, trying to live with it. 

Grim determination filled her. 

She was not going to lose Ye Xiu too. She refused to even consider that as a possibility. 

Her fingers tightened on the jacket she still held. 

It could very well be a kidnapping. Something mundane. There were no hints to Ye Xiu's disappearance being caused by magic. 

The voices cackled in her mind. 

She paused at the sight of Excellent Era's well-lit entrance. She glanced down at the jacket. Something was prodding at her, something intangible. 

'Mucheng,' she remembered Su Muqiu saying. 'Whenever your gut tells you something, listen to it. Listen to your instincts. Everyone has instincts. But for us, our magic enhances it into something that is almost premonition. So, whenever you feel something is wrong, stop and listen.'

Su Mucheng glanced to the side. The bright sign of Happy Internet Café drew her attention. She walked in and, in less than five minutes, walked out without Ye Xiu's jacket. 

When pressing the button for the elevator in Excellent Era's lobby, her fingers trembled. Su Mucheng clenched them into a fist. 

Boss Tao will help, she told herself. He will know what to do. 

A few feet away from Tao Xuan's office, she paused. 

Wait, wait, wait, the voices in her mind chanted. Listen. 

The people with magic in their blood could utilise it in many ways. Some families honed their skill in the ways of potions (they were called Potioneers), some focused on rites, talismans and rituals (Ritualists), some researched and developed spells and found ways to break curses (curse-breakers) and they passed the knowledge down the family line. There were people who found that they could use their ability only when they were filled with adrenaline and however much they tried to recreate that exact scenario, they would not be able to channel that power again. Some could use it if they were determined enough but that would require patience and training. Some could focus it enough to get what they wanted if they wanted it enough—that was the kind of magic that was seen mostly in children. (Su Muqiu had been dumbstruck when Su Mucheng had managed to materialise food from a bakery during one of their hard days). 

Even though it seemed like anyone could use magic whenever they wanted, the truth was that most people, though blessed (or cursed, depending on the point of view) with magic, were just incapable of channelling their powers at all. Instead, they would merely have a heightened awareness of the flow of magical currents around them. The ones who honed that awareness to razor-sharp accuracy were the Seekers. 

Su Mucheng hesitated but drew on her power. She wanted to listen. She wanted to hear better. 

Her hearing sharpened till she could catch the words being spoken inside the office as though she was right there. 

And it was then she realised that yes, there was indeed a sound for when trust was broken and it sounded remarkably like the shattering of a precious and delicate glass sculpture into irreparable pieces. 

Tao Xuan wondered, not for the first time, about the difference in childhood dreams and reality. 

If someone had told him when he was younger—when he had cherished the time he spent with Su Muqiu and Ye Qiu—that a day would come when there was only Ye Qiu at the summit of Glory (the place by his side empty, that place forever reserved for Su Muqiu), and Tao Xuan himself would have been working against Ye Qiu instead of working with him, Tao Xuan would have laughed at them before sending scathing insults their way. 

Yet, everything had changed. 

Or maybe, it was Tao Xuan himself who had changed. 

He knew that Ye Qiu remained almost the same—he was a tad bit more jaded but he still held the same passion for Glory that had always been reflected by Su Muqiu. Tao Xuan remembered the days when he would just sit, his mind oddly calm, and listen to the two of them talk about Glory, discuss their character's equipment and their ideas on how to take the world by storm. He remembered the warm flare in his chest whenever they teased a laugh out of him, the sense of belonging every time they included him in their plans. 

So much time had passed and these days whenever Tao Xuan looked at Ye Qiu's apparent apathy, the once warm place in his chest burned bitterly cold, resentment raging within him. 

He wondered bitterly, why. 

Why wouldn't Ye Qiu work with him? 

Why didn't he trust that Tao Xuan only held Excellent Era's best interests at heart? 

In a dark corner of his mind, Tao Xuan couldn't help but think, Su Muqiu would have done what was asked of him. Su Muqiu wouldn't have been selfish. 

Sitting behind his desk, watching how Cui Li squirmed the longer he was just wordlessly looked at, Tao Xuan knew that his eyes were flashing a crimson red to match the fury within him. 

(A memory of days long past hit him again—Ye Qiu looking at his red pupils with interest, calling Su Muqiu over, absentmindedly soothing a steady hand over tense shoulders as Tao Xuan subconsciously expected pain and judgement, Su Muqiu's exclamation of how cool the colour was, like burning embers, the warm acceptance on their faces and how something had uncoiled in Tao Xuan.) 

"Well?" Tao Xuan asked, after a long time. 

Cui Li wiped the sweat off his brow and started speaking of the possible steps they could take to control the situation, stuttering a little, unable to meet his boss' eyes. 

"We can't announce Ye Qiu's retirement without his signature on the agreement," Tao Xuan said. "We need to take measures to control the fallout. Discuss with the PR and Legal Team. And leak some information, unofficially, that there has been tension between God Ye and Excellent Era. Make sure to cast him in a bad light. If things work out, the fans would take care of the problem on their own."

Cui Li nodded, typing down notes on his phone. 

"Boss Tao," Cui Li hesitated as Tao Xuan's gaze focused on him. "What about Ye Qiu? Did you figure out what Chen Yehui's ritual did? Is he…dead?" 

There was a pause before Tao Xuan gave a sharp sigh. 

"He is as good as dead," Tao Xuan said. 

Cui Li wondered at the expression that flitted across the other's face—a mixture of bitter pain and triumph. 

"That was half-baked magic," Tao Xuan continued, grimacing. "It was abandoned for a reason. It takes too much power and yet, it will not stabilise easily. Ye Qiu… He's gone. There's no way back." 

Tao Xuan rubbed a hand across his face. "It's called the Rite of the Damned for a reason, Chen Yehui, you fuckwit," he muttered. 

Cui Li barely suppressed a flinch when Tao Xuan focused on him again. 

"What about One Autumn Leaf? Did you find it?" 

"No, Boss Tao. But we are trying hard to find it! I've put many people on it!" 

"If word of this gets out," Tao Xuan said, fixing a narrow-eyed gaze on a pale Cui Li, "I'll know who to blame." 

He rose from his chair, smoothed down his suit and strode towards the door. 

"Make sure that none of this reaches Su Mucheng," Tao Xuan warned, stopping a few feet away from the door. "I don't want her to entertain ideas of leaving Excellent Era. We need her." 

Cui Li nodded rapidly. "Yes, Boss Tao."

With one last glance at the manager, Tao Xuan walked out of his office. He turned towards the elevators and paused when he saw Su Mucheng walking towards him. Her face was pale and drawn. Tao Xuan wondered if she already knew but it wasn't possible for her to know. He had been so careful to keep everything away from her notice. 

"Mucheng," Tao Xuan greeted with a smile. "What is it?" 

"Boss Tao," Su Mucheng said, frowning. "Have you seen Ye Qiu? It's been quite some time since I saw him and I couldn't find him anywhere. I thought you might know?" She looked at him, hopefully. 

Tao Xuan noticed how her eyes were red as though she had been crying and he felt as though a hand was squeezing his chest. He knew how she had wept when she had received the news of Su Muqiu's death. He had been there as little Mucheng had crumpled into Ye Qiu's careful hold. 

"I'm afraid I have no idea," Tao Xuan said, holding her gaze, recognising the trust within it. "He'll come back sooner or later, Mucheng. Don't worry." 

He smiled reassuringly at her. 

Su Mucheng looked at him, eyes searching for something. She sighed then, deflating. 

"Yeah," she said, giving a small smile back. "He'll be back. He wouldn't just leave without telling me after all." 

Tao Xuan nodded and watched, the smile remaining on his face, as she left after bidding him goodbye. 

As the elevator doors closed behind her, his smile dropped. 

Little Mucheng, I'm sorry. 

Su Mucheng entered her room, carefully holding together the tattered edges of her composure. 

The door closed behind her, shutting her away from the rest of the Excellent Era as her knees gave out. She placed a palm on the cold floor, shuddering all over. 

It had taken every bit of her self-control to act as though she was just worried, as if she hadn't just overheard them talking about Ye Xiu and their decision to abandon him to his fate. She had to keep up a naive facade as her trust in Tao Xuan eroded away, the last bit of hope that he would tell her the truth crushed as he smiled and lied to her face. 

"Ye Xiu, Ye Xiu," Su Mucheng murmured, desperate and helpless, a fervent prayer that received no answer. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know whom to trust. 

The walls were closing in on her. 

The voices in her head were silent. 

Su Mucheng closed her eyes, pressing the cold tips of her trembling fingers on them. Her mind flashed to the times Ye Xiu taught her about tactics to use in Glory, about assessing the situation and reacting accordingly. She remembered the comforting tenor of his voice, the unhurried way he guided her thought process. 

Her eyes snapped open. 

Her fingers flew over her phone's touchscreen. She pressed it to her ear, the dial tone filling her with anxiety. 

Pick up, please, pick up, she pleaded in her mind. 

The call connected. 

"Ye Qiu," Su Mucheng said, relief coursing through her. "It's about Ye Xiu." 

There was a loaded pause. 

"I'm already here," was the reply. "Come down." 

As she stood up from the floor, the voices started murmuring unintelligibly at the back of her head. She ignored them with the long years of practice. She took a deep breath and then another. 

When she walked out, into the brightly lit corridor, she was in control again, back straight and an unassuming smile on her face. 

"Liu Hao, Chen Yehui and Cui Li, they're the ones who did it." 

Ye Qiu squinted against the lights of the passing vehicles. He stood outside the internet cafe where Su Mucheng had hidden his brother's abandoned jacket, waiting for her to fetch it. 

"Tao Xuan knew what had happened but he lied to my face."

Clenching his fists tightly, Ye Qiu tried to control the tremble in his fingers. He caught sight of his reflection on the glass pane near him. Even though his face was blank, his eyes glinted an inhuman gold, the pupils slitted in a way people might not notice at first but would definitely do a double-take at. The dark circles under his eyes highlighted his pale and clammy skin. 

"They've already given up on him. Tao Xuan said… he said that Ye Xiu is as good as dead."

His mind raced even as Su Mucheng's words echoed in his head, making his blood boil. A snarl threatened to break out but Ye Qiu gritted his teeth and pursed his lips, feeling the sharper canines bite into his soft skin, filling his mouth with the coppery taste of his own blood. 

"He's more concerned about One Autumn Leaf. No one knows where that card is. Tao Xuan is furious."

Ye Qiu knew that Tao Xuan had been an important person in his brother's life. He also knew that the boss had changed and not for the better. Ye Qiu had been willing to give him a second chance. But that had been before he had washed his hands off of Ye Qiu's brother; before he showed more concern for a card than for Ye Xiu; before he wrote his brother off as dead without even trying to save him. 

No, as far as Ye Qiu was concerned, Tao Xuan had sealed his fate the moment he turned his back on Ye Xiu. 

"He called it the Rite of The Damned."

"Are you absolutely sure?" 

"Positive." 

Each of the ancient families had a magical art they specialised in, a branch of magic that they studied, researched, used and passed the knowledge on to their successive generations and, in rare cases, to very close friends of the family. But some families had other secrets too—secrets that were never spoken out loud, secrets only for family, secrets that would die with the family. 

(There were whispers in certain circles about how every member of the Wang family is gifted with green thumbs. 

—there's not a single plant that doesn't flourish under a Wang's care, people say casually—

—as though they have green veins in their bodies like a dryad, they murmur quietly, so very quietly—) 

(There was talk of the daughters of the Tang family and their sweet, mesmerising voices and how every Tang is astonishingly musically talented. 

—they're so very talented, people nod as they compliment—

—beware the call of the sirens, they warn in low voices, behind closed doors—) 

The Ye family was an ancient family and held its own share of secrets. One such secret was that they were in possession of a treasure hoard of written knowledge—numerous old tomes of magic and parchments on magical theory and occurrences. 

When they had been younger, it had been a favourite pastime of the twins to break into their father’s study to get their hands on the collection of tomes there—a select few that he had taken from the family vault for his own perusal. After Ye Xiu had run away, Ye Qiu had sought to numb the loneliness in his heart with age-old words and historical accounts of magical implementation. 

Right then, in the shadows in front of the Happy Café, with the words 'The Rite of The Damned' circling his mind, Ye Qiu thought back to those days of oppressive silence and the days in which he had yet been unused to the empty space beside him. He recalled the fragile pages that he had held so very carefully in between the tips of his fingers, eyes intently fixed on the archaic writing, ignoring the silent gaze of his father upon his back. He remembered the sound of thunder and the flashes of lightning as he read the book about the Realm of the Dead. 

Ye Qiu inhaled sharply, clarity striking him with all the gentleness of a car crash. 

The Rite of The Damned... tapt i mørke tåker...

He raised his head, unable to hide the fierce look in his eyes, as Su Mucheng came to stand by him, the dark jacket clenched in her arms. 

She paused, her attention drawn to the way the gold in his eyes was brighter, more captivating; and, as she knew from experience, infinitely more dangerous. She then noticed the sharp grin on Ye Qiu's face, the dark rage overtaken by the light of victory. Hope blossomed within her. 

"I know what that ritual is," Ye Qiu said, stretching his hand, wordlessly asking for the jacket. Su Mucheng handed it over. 

Ye Qiu gave into a small moment of weakness as he brought the jacket up and pressed his face onto it, inhaling his brother's scent, deriving a much-needed comfort. 

I am coming for you, gege. Wait for me. 

On gaining consciousness, Ye Xiu first noted the rough stones that were digging into his skin. He then realised that he was lying face-first on the ground. His entire body was throbbing and there was a part of his soul that was screaming in agony at being forcefully torn away from his twin brother. 

Grimacing, Ye Xiu climbed to his feet and took a minute to gather his bearings. Then, he turned in a circle, taking in the vast fields of dark green tall grass dancing in the wind. The sky was covered with heavy thunder clouds silhouetted against bright golden light. A large palace made of black stone towered over the fields, reaching to the skies. A cold, unwelcoming aura exuded from the ominous structure. Lightning flashed sporadically around the castle. Ye Xiu estimated the distance between him and the castle to be around ten kilometers, more or less. 

A cool wind made Ye Xiu shiver. He cursed Chen Yehui for ripping his jacket away when Ye Xiu was more focused on not letting the hungry ritualistic chasm devour his entire magical potential and soul. He tucked his cold, gloveless hands into his pants pocket, fingers knocking against the Glory card that he always carried with him. 

Standing on the rocky outcrop, Ye Xiu lightly traced his fingers across the ridges on the Glory card as he stared, unblinking, at the familiar castle in the distance. The view was disturbingly similar to a painting Ye Xiu once saw, of a long-dead artist's rendition of Hell. 

Ye Xiu looked up at the sky and sighed, long-suffering. 

He knew where he was. 

"Fuck."

Chapter Text

The thing about being immortal was that time was a strange concept. Hours blended into days into months and before you knew it, years had passed.

Since being crowned the ruler of the Underworld, many millennia ago, Han Wenqing had become quite apathetic to his duties and responsibilities. But then, who wouldn’t have tired of it all—that same repetitive process of being judge, jury and executioner to the countless souls who entered the afterlife—within the first few centuries? The only times he wasn’t counting the souls in his realm, like the humans counted sheep, were when wars broke out in the Celestial Realm, every five centuries or so—it usually happened when some immortal insulted some other immortal’s delicate sensibilities.

Thankfully, Zhang Xinjie, a minor god of Death, had turned up one day and, over the course of decades, earned the position of Han Wenqing’s lieutenant, while also ensuring that the Underworld functioned in an orderly manner. Right on time too, considering how Han Wenqing had been pondering the merits of destroying the Greek Pantheon’s gardens and blaming it on the Egyptian Pantheon. It wouldn’t even have taken much effort. After all, Zeus was quite trigger-happy, so to speak, and all he would have needed was a simple nudge to threaten war on the other Pantheon. Han Wenqing had shelved the idea for a future distraction and labeled Zhang Xinjie as a spoilsport in his mind.

It had amused him greatly when the younger god had held his piercing gaze, unwavering, even as he stated his intentions to aid Han Wenqing. Han Wenqing knew that it wouldn’t have been easy for the other to not look away; after all, his eyes, when not reflecting the flames of hell, reflected the terrifying truths of the universe. Mortals could and would irrevocably be driven mad by a single, long glance into his eyes, their minds snapping under the weight of knowledge that they were never meant to know, while most immortals were made very, very uncomfortable. The only immortals capable of holding his gaze were the ones who ruled over their own Pantheons’ Underworlds such as Hel, Anubis and Hades.

So, when Zhang Xinjie showed up on his doorstep, without any prior notice, it was the most interesting thing Han Wenqing had experienced in literal ages. However, the novelty of another deity in his home wore off after a few decades and Han Wenqing, the Crowned Lord of The Dead, the Fearsome King of the Underworld, the Mighty Commander of the Armies of the Undead, returned to the torturous state of being absolutely bored.

Zhang Xinjie took care of all the menial tasks, even after being given the position of Han Wenqing’s lieutenant after the last immortal who held that position was thrown into the Bottomless Pit of Nightmares. He continued giving regular updates and reports on the souls and their choices. 

A soul, upon entering the afterlife, had a choice to make. It could either move on to the reincarnation cycle, choose to rest in peace (literally), be assigned to the redemption cycle (with intermittent sessions of hellfire and demonic counselling), serve in the Palace for a few centuries (a surprisingly popular choice; when asked why, the most common answer had been why not; Zhang Xinjie had worn a curiously disgruntled expression when reporting such instances to Han Wenqing, the first few times), or finally, aimlessly wander in the Golden Fields for an undetermined period of time. Many souls preferred the last option so that they could either rest and recuperate or wait for their loved ones to join them in the afterlife before heading on to ‘the next, great adventure’ together. 

Even though Han Wenqing was always aware of any and all who entered his realm, he preferred to sit back and watch as Zhang Xinjie and his minions took care of everything. Very rarely was Han Wenqing required to interfere in matters and such a state of affairs only fed into his boredom.

Han Wenqing sighed as he walked the long corridors he had traversed a billion times before, shadows trailing behind him, extending beyond his silken black robes. The shimmering form of a soul—named Zhu Yang in the last life, Han Wenqing knew from a glance, who had volunteered to serve in the palace before going for reincarnation—jumped, clutching tightly at the vase they were dusting. Han Wenqing sighed again, deliberately, deriving a vague sense of amusement from how the servant squeaked and turned almost invisible, a soul's version of paling. 

"My Lord," a calm voice sounded from his side, slightly disapproving. 

Han Wenqing kept walking, his face blank.

"Xinjie," he acknowledged, flatly.

Zhang Xinjie smoothly started walking alongside him, a few steps behind and to the right of Han Wenqing, careful not to step on the shadowy robes. He started to recite his usual report, knowing very well that his Lord was very much tempted to banish him into the Void. 

Han Wenqing listened, as he always did. He also wondered if he should pay a visit to the Spring Goddess. She always shrieked when his arrival caused her flowers to wither and almost always tried to gut him with her sword. Such a visit would definitely provide him with entertainment. Or maybe, he could visit and poke at the Lord of Winter. But then, the other God always did look like he was one step away from keeling over and Han Wenqing was currently not in the mood to instigate political drama if the ancient God really did decide to kick the bucket when Han Wenqing visited, which was a possibility considering the old coot’s spiteful nature. 

“–no surprising incidents. All is well in the realm, Lord Han.” 

Han Wenqing resisted the urge to sigh once more. Maybe he could stir up trouble in the realms of the other Pantheons. It would be fun. Or not.

Just then, a small awareness alerted him to a newcomer. Han Wenqing was surprised, just a little bit, to realise that the soul (fiery, bright, strangely familiar) was not actually dead. In fact, it seemed as though a living person had trespassed into the Underworld.

Han Wenqing glanced at the composed face of Zhang Xinjie. It was evident that the other had not yet realised the discrepancy in the realm.

A spark of interest lit within him and he smirked. His trusted lieutenant suddenly appeared wary and a little bit worried too.

All the plans to visit other immortals were put on hold. Han Wenqing was curious as to how the situation would be handled. After all, nothing ruffled Zhang Xinjie like an unknown and unplanned element. Han Wenqing just hoped that he would have some form of entertainment.

Su Mucheng had always known, since her first meeting with Ye Qiu, that the twins had different personalities even though they were so alike in appearance and well-versed in acting as the other. That knowledge was only reinforced as Su Mucheng watched Ye Qiu give sharp orders over the phone, while they were travelling to the Ye Manor to find more details on the rite.

He kept his voice calm but firm as he catalogued the possible timeline of the events leading to his brother’s disappearance. No one on the other end of the call would have been able to guess that Ye Qiu was actually pale as a ghost, sweat dotting his forehead and upper lip, barely holding his phone through trembling hands. He appeared to be in the throes of a raging fever—which, she suspected, would only worsen as more time passed without Ye Xiu within his reach—and there was a madness glimmering in his burning golden eyes, the terrible intensity sending a shiver down her spine. 

As a silent observer, she listened as Ye Qiu set into motion his plans to bring Excellent Era crashing down, obstructing Tao Xuan’s plans to profit from Ye Xiu’s disappearance. It was similar to watching a chess master move his pieces carefully and cleverly in advance, positioning everything deliberately to catch the unsuspecting opponent in a chokehold.

She wondered how Ye Xiu would take the changes in his life when he was back because, have no doubt, there would be unavoidable changes, and Su Mucheng sincerely doubted Excellent Era's ability to emerge unscathed from Ye Qiu's wrath that which he would soon be unleashing on behalf of his brother.

She knew that Ye Xiu loved Excellent Era and would have rather removed himself from the equation than hurt the team, if push had come to shove. But that was then, before his disappearance and right now, Ye Xiu wasn’t present. Ye Qiu was. And Ye Qiu wasn’t as forgiving as his twin, nor was he willing to give in.

Su Mucheng had known that the brothers were quite protective over the other though they would never admit it out loud. So, it wasn’t surprising to see the ruthless way in which Ye Qiu went about handling the matter. That’s when she realised that though Ye Xiu loved Excellent Era, he loved Ye Qiu more; though he might hesitate to fight for himself, he wouldn’t oppose his brother’s actions. And so, even though Ye Xiu wouldn’t be pleased with the destruction of the team which he had cared for and supported for years, he would only sigh, a little sad, a little resigned, and then wryly comment on Ye Qiu’s ‘overreaction’.

She took a moment to mourn for the team that had once been like her family, the warm memories now tinged with sorrow and regret. Tao Xuan had crossed the line, knowingly or unknowingly, and he would be reaping the rewards. Unfortunately, Excellent Era would not survive the ordeal.

After all, dragons were feared and respected for a reason, though the powerful creatures were long since extinct. Once their anger was truly roused, their enemies were razed to the ground and their ashes were scattered to the winds. And there had been rumours (behind closed doors, spoken with awe and fear, in barely audible voices) of how, diluted through countless generations or not, the fiery draconic blood ran true in the Ye family. 

The heavy silence pressed upon Ye Qiu, as he stood in one of the cavernous rooms present in his family vault, which was just another way of saying 'a heavily guarded labyrinth underneath the Manor, full of knowledge that was both ancient and modern, light and dark'.

He clenched his shaking fingers into a fist, feeling the sharp nails dig into his palms. His teeth, more pointed than normal (his control was slipping), were gritted and cutting into the soft flesh of his lips. He could feel the desperate rage that was surging within him, straining to rip free in the form of a thunderous roar but he held it back with sheer willpower.

The Rite of the Damned was aptly named so, according to the heavy, ancient book that Ye Qiu and Su Mucheng had found after combing through the vast collection of books and scrolls, for hours, in the Ye family vault. The book, falling apart at the seams, was full of ominous warnings and gruesome descriptions for every ritual entry present in it and the one that they had been looking for was no different.

The ancient, cursed magic, as the book elucidated, was once used to punish the worst of the worst, the truly irredeemable, as it forcefully ripped a fully living person from the rightful realm—the land of the living—and shoved them into the afterlife. The actual torture (there was no other way to describe it) happened in the other realm.

You see, everything has a place in the world where it truly belongs—the living belongs in the mortal world, alive, and the dead belongs in the other realm, the afterlife. When a living person enters the realm of the dead, the balance is disturbed. And nature always seeks to be balanced, by any means necessary.

The balancing happens in the form of eliminating the discrepancy in the equation, the oddity which is the living soul.

The longer the person stays in the realm of the dead, the more their soul withers away. There won't be an afterlife for them, no. The soul just painfully disintegrates—the person would be conscious of it, as the fabric of their very being unwinds and crumbles into ash, inch by agonising inch—till absolutely nothing is left of the person in the entire universe.

The usage of the rite had been banned and the knowledge forbidden as it had since been considered barbaric, and rightfully so.

Ye Qiu would like nothing more than to burn Chen Yehui alive for daring to perform such a thing on his brother.

The book had stated that none of the victims had escaped unscathed from the rite. But it had also theorised how, if the person could be brought back to the correct realm before nature tried to completely eradicate them, if the person's will to live was stronger than their will to give in to the agony, then maybe…

Maybe…

There were countless variables that could change at any instant, and time and nature itself was against them. But there was a hint of possibility, a sliver of chance, and that was enough for Ye Qiu.

Ye Xiu could not be summoned, as he was not truly dead. They could not open a portal to the other realm to bring him back—the 'doorways' between realms had been shut, permanently, when the Fae had left, and though the closure had been recorded, neither Ye Qiu nor Su Mucheng could find any more information on the 'doorways'.

There was only one way left. Someone had to go into the Underworld the same way Ye Xiu did and bring him back.

"You'll need an anchor to tether you here," Su Mucheng said, placing another dusty tome in front of Ye Qiu, the page opened to the spell they needed.

Ye Qiu quickly read through the information and looked at her, one eyebrow raised. The effect of that expression was diminished as he appeared to be one step away from fainting.

"The ingredients," Ye Qiu said, lightly tapping a finger on the brittle page. "You have ideas, I presume?"

Su Mucheng smiled. 

Chapter Text

Initially, it had appeared as though the imposing palace was at most two hours away, on foot, from where Ye Xiu had stood. However, as he started walking towards his destination, it was not difficult to realise that the Underworld had its own set of rules and reaching the palace would not turn out to be as simple as he hoped it would be. 

Not for the first time, Ye Xiu realised that he had turned to walk in an entirely different direction, away from the palace, subconsciously following the haunting whispers that murmured in his ears. If he did not focus intently on what he needed to do and where he needed to go, Ye Xiu had learnt that he was susceptible to the lure of the whispers which was probably a defense of the Underworld or, more specifically, a defense for the palace.

Absentmindedly pressing a hand over his chest, he sighed and rubbed his hands together. Large outcroppings of rocks and the dim light served to hinder Ye Xiu in finding the accurate direction to his destination.

A flash of red teased him from the corner of his eyes. When he turned, there was nothing there but a small path leading into the darkness.

Ye Xiu glanced around once more. He suspected that he could turn back the way he came but he was also quite confident that he would lose his way. Huffing out a wry laugh, he gave into his curiosity and strode towards the path. He wanted to know what that flash of colour was.

The path led him by open fields with long, dark green grass and even black rivers that appeared calm and shallow but which Ye Xiu suspected were actually deep and dangerous. He had also come across what had appeared to be an abandoned settlement: a few huts scattered around a well, the roofs collapsing in some of the huts, wooden doors falling off the hinges in the others. 

Every time Ye Xiu thought he was lost again, he would see that same flash of red at the corner of his vision. He had thought at first that it was maybe someone’s dress. But after many glimpses, he wondered if it was either a hat or an umbrella. Or maybe it was just a wisp of smoke leading him to his doom. Ye Xiu rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. 

The temperature was on the cooler side, not cold enough to be harmful but cool enough to ensure that he couldn’t be comfortable. And despite it all, a wordless belief, a bone-deep conviction warmed him from the depths of his soul. He knew, without explicitly knowing how, that this wasn’t his end. Not quite yet.

He stopped at the end of the path, after walking for what felt like hours. The palace loomed in front of him, menacing in size, welcoming in its warmth and light. 

Ye Xiu turned his head just in time to catch sight of a bright red umbrella disappearing around a corner of the palace, water droplets rolling down the canopy even though it hadn’t been raining. 

Stepping up to the large doors, hoping he wouldn’t be erased from existence, and feeling strangely amused for some inexplicable reason, Ye Xiu knocked.

The first thing that Zhang Xinjie said to Ye Xiu, after looking him up and down, was a flat, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Ye Xiu blinked languidly at the other. “I know.”

Zhang Xinjie breathed in deliberately and moved aside to let the other in. The door shut behind them automatically.

“You still use pen and paper?” Ye Xiu asked, glancing at the notepad Zhang Xinjie held in his hands. “I mean, it’s the twenty first century and all that.”

Not sparing the frozen man—god? ghost? spirit? deity? —another glance, Ye Xiu turned in a circle, taking in the sight of towering pillars, golden walls, intricate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, wide glass stained windows with beautiful curtains pulled to the sides. The appearance was incongruous with the home of the Lord of the Dead. Ye Xiu smiled.

Zhang Xinjie cleared his throat and led him through well-lit corridors to a huge throne room.

The Lord of the Underworld was leaning back on the throne, observing them through half-lidded eyes. Ye Xiu’s skin felt electrified the closer he walked to the other, his hair rising on its end. The power of the immortal was palpable, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed upon the black and red clad being.

“My Lord, this is Ye Xiu, the living soul who tripped into the realm of the dead,” Zhang Xinjie said, wryly. “Ye Xiu, this is Han Wenqing, the Lord of the Dead and the King of the Underworld.”

Ye Xiu bowed low, the manners his mother ingrained in him rearing its head up.

“Well met,” Han Wenqing said, his voice pitched low and yet carrying to all the corners of the throne room. Zhang Xinjie twitched.

“Well, onto the matter at hand,” Zhang Xinjie started, turning to Ye Xiu. “You are alive. In this realm, you shouldn’t be. Either I change your state of being or you let the realm obliterate you slowly and agonisingly, for disturbing the balance. Which one is it going to be?”

Ye Xiu glanced once at the impassive face of Han Wenqing before responding. “How long do I have before the, uh, obliteration?”

Zhang Xinjie frowned. “Unclear. Time runs differently in both realms; not by much, but different, nonetheless. Without any external influence, it might take five days in this realm, which would be more or less the same time in the living world. If we take into account the time since you entered this realm, you have already spent almost a day here.”

Ye Xiu’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Five days… That would be enough.” He tilted his head at Zhang Xinjie and said, apologetic, “I will not be choosing either of the options.”

Unseen, Han Wenqing shifted minutely, a spark of interest flaring up.

Zhang Xinjie blinked and looked as though he was about to start sputtering. “...What?”

Ye Xiu just grinned, every bit as annoyingly shameless as he was always accused to be. 

“You see, I don’t intend to stay for long. Someone will be coming for me.”

“I can ensure that the obliteration is slowed down,” Han Wenqing said, gaze oddly intent. Zhang Xinjie glanced between his Lord and the intruder.

Ye Xiu raised both his eyebrows. “How?”

“This is my realm,” Han Wenqing said. The shadows behind his throne deepened ominously. “The palace is my home and holds my seat of power.” He tapped his forefinger on the armrest of his throne. “I can create a bubble around the palace. The time will pass normally throughout the realm but it will be...stretched, in a manner of speaking, inside the palace. Slowing down time for you is doable as long as you remain inside.”

Ye Xiu smiled. “Why?”

“I am bored and you are interesting.” 

“And in return?”

Now, Han Wenqing smiled. It was not a comforting smile nor was it meant to be. Ye Xiu didn’t flinch and neither did his smile falter. Zhang Xinjie was impressed. “Entertain me.”

Ye Xiu tilted his head to the side and hummed low in his throat, not looking away from the god who had the power to save his life and soul. 

“Have you heard of Glory?” Ye Xiu asked, after a long minute, smirking.

Zhang Xinjie led Ye Xiu to a different wing of the palace and showed him to an elaborately furnished room. 

“As of now, you are a guest here so please be comfortable,” he said, gesturing inside. “Also, it would behoove you to rest well.”

“Oh?” Ye Xiu looked at him, curious.

“You are still alive and you will continue to experience the limitations of mortality,” Zhang Xinjie elaborated. “You still don’t belong. And since your soul is one of the brighter ones, the pushback from the realm will be that much stronger. Ultimately, it comes down to your will to survive. And for that, you need to be of sound mind and well-rested.”

Ye Xiu recalled the time when his life had been bleak—after Su Muqiu had been torn away by the accident and the loss had been crushing his soul—and his chest hurt, as though a piece of him was being disintegrated, which might just as well be true considering how the damned realm had it out for him. His thoughts then turned to the reasons he had to live, to survive; the people who were waiting for him, the things he still wanted to do, to achieve. 

Ye Qiu, Su Mucheng, his parents…

Glory…

He nodded at Zhang Xinjie in understanding. Just as Zhang Xinjie turned to leave, Ye Xiu called out.

“Where can I get a cigarette?”

If asked later, Ye Xiu would swear, chuckling, that the look on the other’s face was better than the comfort of nicotine.

Han Wenqing was not pacing his palace, per se. He was merely walking along the corridors, thinking of the new arrival. The man, Ye Xiu, was interesting but that opinion could be merely because Han Wenqing hadn’t had any proper companionship for ages. (A part of him disagreed, it wanted to know more about the mortal with the irritating smirk and warm golden eyes.)

To be truthful, Han Wenqing hadn’t been expecting the other to actually come up with an idea to entertain him. He had been planning on making him sweat for a minute before helping him out anyway; he was intrigued by Ye Xiu’s calm and confident claim that someone would be retrieving him, and he was curious about the future. Even if no one came for Ye Xiu, Han Wenqing knew that he wouldn’t be able to let the realm consume the other’s soul. The man was too interesting, too full of potential to just be wiped out of existence. Han Wenqing would have killed him first.

Unbidden, the Lord of the Dead remembered the one other soul that had come to his realm a few years (decades? centuries? time was meaningless anyway and he was so very tired) ago. Even though he hadn’t come into contact with it, he knew that Zhang Xinjie had run into a few—he hesitated to call them ‘problems’—issues, regarding the soul’s placement and its utter disregard for rules and forbidden places which were, well, forbidden. Han Wenqing had looked on, bemused, as Zhang Xinjie had power-walked out of the throne room, while hissing under his breath about a damned menace who can’t stick to his assigned place and how does he do that!!? and I am not getting paid enough for this shit, unknowing or uncaring that the words were audible though Han Wenqing suspected it was more of the former than the latter as Zhang Xinjie had always been, in all the considerable years he had served under Han Wenqing, a dedicated professional.

Maybe, he thought idly, he should look into recruiting that soul for some much-needed cheer. This place was too silent and gloomy and Han Wenqing was getting sick of the silence. 

The shadows pooled around him, twirling playfully and pulling at his robes. They led him towards the room he had furnished when Ye Xiu had specified what was required for playing Glory. Surprisingly, Zhang Xinjie had been much more knowledgeable about the game than he had expected—his lieutenant had meticulously avoided his eyes when he had looked to him with an eyebrow raised. 

Just as he reached the doors, they opened and, to his amusement, Zhang Xinjie stalked out, muttering under his breath. 

"—no Clerics, he says. Well, fuck you too, you—" 

With a distracted nod of acknowledgement, Zhang Xinjie left. Han Wenqing knew that whenever he is in such a mood, the other would always choose to oversee the realm himself and herd unruly souls to where they belonged, instead of letting the guard spirits do their job. 

Heading inside the room, Han Wenqing caught sight of the mortal, his guest, the one who had been ripped from his place in the world due to envy and petty jealousy. He watched as slender fingers danced across the keyboard, never slipping on the keys, Ye Xiu's concentration on the game absolute. Observing the satisfied smile on his face, Han Wenqing suspected that it was partly due to his lieutenant's reaction and partly due to the game he was playing. 

Golden eyes landed on him, and Ye Xiu tilted his head towards the system next to his own, inviting. 

Curious and the slightest bit eager, Han Wenqing stepped forward towards Ye Xiu and Glory. 

Chapter Text

Since the day Ye Xiu ran away—because of him, Ye Qiu knew it was because of him, despite all the jokes and misdirections Ye Xiu threw up as a defense, Ye Qiu knew—Ye Qiu had been living with a nameless fear for his brother, wanting his other half with him, next to him instead of miles away, alone in an unknown and dangerous world. Their parents weren't prepared to lose their willful child and so, they ensured that he would be safe and protected as he gallivanted across cities. They cared, deeply so, but they knew just as well as anyone in the Ye family that his fiercely independent nature was inherent to their heritage and they couldn't blame their son for giving in to it. 

(They thought he wanted to explore the world, without being bound to familial shackles. But Ye Qiu knew that it wasn't only the yearning for freedom and open skies that spurred Ye Xiu to leave but also the overwhelming desire to, above all, keep Ye Qiu safe.)

Receiving reports on his twin brother's daily life soothed a worried part of Ye Qiu while ruffling another. For every 'he is safe', Ye Qiu thought 'he would be safer with me'. For every 'he is happy', Ye Qiu knew 'he would be happiest with me'. 

But Ye Xiu made a choice and Ye Qiu, even though he wanted more than anything to drag his brother back home, would honour that choice 

But now, things had toppled over and his brother needed him. Even though, as per the ancient records, a living person could not survive for long in the other realm, if anyone could hold out, it would be Ye Xiu. Time was against them; but Ye Qiu was determined, and he would bring his brother back. With the soul-deep understanding of each other that they had, Ye Qiu had no doubts that Ye Xiu was aware that his rescue was inevitable. 

Ye Qiu knew that if his parents were in the country, they would be perfect for providing a strong enough tether for both their children to find their way out of the Underworld. But the fact remained that they were not and though they would try their best to come back as soon as possible, Ye Qiu felt that it might take too long and be too late. He was not willing to take such a risk, not when it was his brother’s life on the line. 

And so, here they were, Ye Qiu and Su Mucheng, visiting Glory Pro Players who had a strong enough emotional connection to Ye Xiu to ensure that they could contribute to the tethering spell. 

A quiet voice whispered that no one could possibly want his brother back as much as Ye Qiu did—with the exception of Su Mucheng—no one would feel the earth-shattering agony that Ye Qiu felt, had been feeling since his twin was ripped away from him. 

But, on seeing the pale faces of the pros, shock and devastation clear when the situation had been explained, the way they volunteered without even an ounce of hesitation to aid in retrieving their senior (—rival, friend, family—), Ye Qiu had to acknowledge, grudgingly, that maybe (just maybe) these people, strangers to him, friends to his brother, really did care for Ye Xiu. 

"It would be more potent to conduct the ritual in the same place," Wang Jiexi said. 

"But there's a risk of the ritualistic magic being overloaded by the leftover magic from the previous ritual," Yu Wenzhou pointed out. 

"For the sake of accuracy, that might be a risk we have to take. Ye Qiu would be dropped very, very close to where Ye Xiu was, in which case it will be easier to find him." 

They looked to Ye Qiu who nodded in agreement. 

"Do we even know where it was done?" Huang Shaotian asked, clenching and unclenching his fists nervously. 

Yu Wenzhou looked to Su Mucheng. "They might have placed the jacket elsewhere as a diversion. Can we question Tao Xuan about it?" 

Zhou Zekai frowned. "Truthful?" 

"No," Su Mucheng said, pursing her lips. "We can't rely on him to tell us the truth even if he did know the place. And I very much doubt that Chen Yehui or Liu Hao would divulge the information." 

Ye Qiu closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, covering his mouth with his fingers. Why can't something go well for once? 

He tapped his forefinger on his lips thoughtfully.

"Cigarettes," Ye Qiu murmured. "Our parents ensured that we knew to leave a trail in case we were kidnapped and Xiu-ge got into the habit of leaving a blood trace on his cigarettes."

"Family magic," Yu Wenzhou acknowledged. 

"Do you know the spell?" Wang Jiexi asked. 

Ye Qiu looked at him. "Of course." 

The first time Ye Xiu called the Lord of the Underworld 'Old Han', Zhang Xinjie almost choked on air. He was pretty sure that his Lord was going to smite the mortal. 

And yet, other than a single twitch of an eyebrow, Han Wenqing kept quiet about the new form of address. 

"Do you actually wear robes or is that just your shadows covering you?" Ye Xiu asked, curious. 

A clatter sounded in the background as a spirit dropped the vase they were cleaning. 

Han Wenqing stared, full of disbelief, at the shameless brat. 

"What are you doing?" 

Ye Xiu turned to see one of the guardians of the palace, Jiang You. 

"Exploring," Ye Xiu said, smiling. 

"Why?" Jiang You looked at him as though he was a being he had never seen before. 

"For future use," Ye Xiu grinned. "It'll make it easier to not get lost when I actually do die." 

Humming under his breath, Ye Xiu wandered to the next corridor leaving behind one stupefied guardian spirit. 

"Do you…" 

Zhang Xinjie paused at the uncharacteristic hesitation from Ye Xiu. He waited. 

Ye Xiu took a deep breath and when he spoke his voice trembled almost unnoticeably. 

"Do you know of a boy named Su Muqiu? He died in a car accident." 

Zhang Xinjie took a moment to recall the mischievous soul that had given him many headaches by popping up in places he wasn't supposed to be. 

"...Yes," He said, slowly. 

"Is he– Did he…" 

"He chose to wait for his family to join him before going into the reincarnation cycle," Zhang Xinjie said, gently. "If I recall, he was waiting for two people." 

Ye Xiu let out a shuddering breath. It was obvious as to what he wanted to ask—request—next but he held back. 

"Thank you," he said, in a low, heartfelt voice. 

Zhang Xinjie inclined his head in response. 

"How do you like Glory, Old Han?" 

"... Entertaining." 

Ye Xiu laughed. 

"Desert Dust is a worthy opponent," he said. "It's amazing that you're able to keep up with me." 

Han Wenqing smirked. "One Autumn Leaf is not bad either." 

The hall, repurposed to house the gaming systems, rang with unabashed laughter. 

"Any backlash that might occur will be stabilised by all of us," Wang Jiexi said. "Pentagrams are strong in a foundational level. So, casting a tethering spell with five people is the best we can do." 

"So, Su Mucheng will be at the head, right?" Huang Shaotian asked, looking to his Captain. 

Yu Wenzhou nodded. "She has the strongest connection to both Ye Xiu and Ye Qiu among all of us. She'll be the bridge. We'll have to be the support." 

Zhou Zekai and Su Mucheng drew the array over the place where the pull of the previous ritual was strongest while the others arranged the runestones as needed to give the ritual and the spell the most stability. 

The tracking spell Ye Qiu cast had unerringly led them to the cigarette which had Ye Xiu's blood smeared on it, most recently. It had been a matter of minutes before they had figured out the exact area where Ye Xiu had last stood. The smell of ozone that was characteristic to any ritualistic magic still lingered in the air. 

Su Mucheng pushed the ever-lingering whispers to the background and slammed a mental door on them. However, she couldn't stop her own thoughts from wandering as her hands worked on laying down the array. 

She knew, objectively, that the twins were quite different in character.

The difference had never been more obvious than when Ye Qiu had received the news, after bringing Ye Xiu’s friends together to carry out their insane plan, about how Tao Xuan was planning on spinning the news about Ye Xiu's disappearance for his own gain and to cast the blame on Ye Xiu himself by implying that he had given up and destroyed the Glory card of One Autumn Leaf. The sheer incandescent fury that had lit up Ye Qiu's face had caused the others to flinch back warily—none of them had ever seen Ye Xiu display such an emotion and seeing it on such a familiar face had been unexpected. The shock hadn't abated even when he had given curt instructions on how to bring Tao Xuan's plans down about his ears.

Su Mucheng also recalled how, in the Ye family vault, she had come across a way to speak to the dead and how Ye Qiu had ever so gently shook his head and wordlessly held her as she fell apart. 

The draconic heritage, she mused, was capable of both extremes—fiery wrath and gentle worry. 

She was brought out of her thoughts as Zhou Zekai told everyone that the array was ready. 

They took their positions—Su Mucheng at the head of the pentagram, then Yu Wenzhou and Huang Shaotian on her left and right respectively, Wang Jiexi stood next to Huang Shaotian and Zhou Zekai stood opposite to Wang Jiexi. In the middle of the circle, Ye Qiu stood, facing Su Mucheng. The guards that Ye Qiu had called for, stationed themselves so that they wouldn’t be interrupted. 

"You have to hold on, no matter what," Ye Qiu reminded her. 

"I will," Su Mucheng said, grimly. Her mind was oddly clear.

They cast the tethering spell, voices chanting eerily in the silent night. The smell of thunderstorms intensified as the wind picked up. A thin blue light lit up the center of the chests for the five people chanting the spell. The light coalesced into a blue line, akin to a string, that connected to Su Mucheng. As the chanting picked up, the line reached from Su Mucheng to Ye Qiu, anchoring him firmly. 

The spell was cast, the tether was fixed. 

A beat later, Wang Jiexi and Zhou Zekai initiated the Rite of the Damned. 

With one last glance at Su Mucheng, Ye Qiu vanished. 

Concentrating on the pull in their chests, the five of them gritted their teeth. 

"Now what?" Huang Shaotian asked, sweat beading on his forehead. 

"We wait," Zhou Zekai said, simply. 

Come back with him, please, Su Mucheng could only plead silently. 

Ye Xiu reached for the fruit bowl. Zhang Xinjie stopped him. 

"Don't eat the fruit here," he admonished. "You'll be cursed with a half-life." 

"That myth is real, then," Ye Xiu mused. "Alright, no eating—" 

He cut himself off with a sharp breath, a hand coming to press over his heart. 

Ye Xiu didn't notice how Han Wenqing's smile dropped nor did he notice Zhang Xinjie glancing warily at his Lord. No, he was more concentrated on his twin bond flaring to life. 

"Qiu-di," he murmured, fondness dripping from every syllable. 

Chapter Text

Gravity shifted.

Opening his eyes to a desolate landscape would have normally shaken Ye Qiu out of his forced calm. But the feel of their twin bond lighting up as soon as he had set foot in the ghost realm had only led to Ye Qiu taking his first deep breath since he had collapsed, days earlier, from the tremendous pain of their bond being stretched between realms. 

Ye Xiu was here, somewhere nearby, within his reach. 

Ye Qiu looked around and caught sight of the palace. He chuckled drily. 

"Oh dear," he muttered under his breath, setting off towards the palace. "Wherever could he be?" 

In the palace, time passed. 

Ye Xiu suspected that he had been staying in the palace for more than two weeks (could it be considered as weeks if time has actually been slowed down?). He would have been worried about Ye Qiu not finding his way to the palace yet, but he checked with Zhang Xinjie and realised that his suspicion was right—the time dilation effect was only within the palace and so, even if weeks might have passed in the palace, the overall time in the realm was much passing much slower. 

Ye Xiu spent most of the days playing Glory with Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie mostly and sometimes, rarely, he would tempt Jiang You into playing. Other days, he chatted with the spirits, annoyed Zhang Xinjie by pestering him about using technology instead of ancient methods, explored the palace (—alone mostly—but sometimes Han Wenqing would join him, and those were the days when they would speak, slowly but surely, about the past, the present and the future. At times, Ye Xiu could only listen, unable to give comfort to an immortal about things that a mortal could barely comprehend; and yet, Ye Xiu suspected that Han Wenqing did not want soothing words. He just wanted someone to listen.) 

As the days flew by, Ye Xiu waited, the strain on his soul growing slowly but unforgettably. He focused, instead, on the thrum within his chest that told him—assured him—that his brother was nearby. 

("Why should I let you go? You have quelled my boredom, providing me with an entertaining challenge. So, tell me why I should let you go."

A small, soft smile, barely noticeable in its existence, and—

"Old Han, you already know why.") 

Standing in front of the Lord of the Dead, his oppressing presence weighing down on him, Ye Qiu could only stare speechlessly. Only one clear thought ran through his head:

If Xiu-ge decides to stay here for this guy, I’m burning this bloody palace to the ground.

The man standing by the throne, who had introduced himself as Zhang Xinjie as he led Ye Qiu to the throne room, cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to break the silence.

“It’s interesting how we have been receiving more guests in recent times than we did in centuries earlier,” Zhang Xinjie said, mildly. 

Han Wenqing grunted but didn’t bother with responding. His eyes were fixed on Ye Qiu, a lazy curiosity in them. Ye Qiu felt like a prey being humoured by a predator and he did not appreciate that feeling.

“My Lord,” Ye Qiu said, bowing low. He was a businessman and he knew how to play the room. And right now, he needed to acknowledge the higher powers first. “I come for my brother, Ye Xiu.”

Han Wenqing raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Ye Qiu explained, keeping a careful eye on the other’s reactions, how his brother had come to be in the Underworld when he wasn’t truly dead.

“Please, My Lord,” Ye Qiu said. “Let me take my brother home.”

Han Wenqing’s unsettling eyes bore into him. Then, he made a sharp gesture towards the side.

On hearing the familiar voice calling out Qiu-di, Ye Qiu had to close his eyes and take a deep breath, focusing on their bond, hoping and praying that this wasn’t a false hope. He wasn’t sure he could take it if it was. 

Soft footsteps sounded, walking towards him. Ye Qiu kept his eyes shut.

“Idiot didi,” the voice chided, affectionately mocking. “You come all this way for me and you won’t even look at me?” A finger flicked him on his cheek, the sensation breaking him out of the frozen state. 

With a sharp inhale, Ye Qiu opened his eyes and looked directly into the warm gold of his brother’s. 

“Gege,” the word was a whisper that crawled painfully out of his throat. Ye Xiu understood however, his face softening. 

Ye Qiu lurched forward to hide his face in his brother’s shoulder, hands coming up to hold onto him so tightly. Ye Xiu’s light laughter echoed in his ear as he held him desperately. “It’s okay, didi. I am here.”

Zhang Xinjie looked away, giving the brothers some privacy. Han Wenqing continued to observe them, his face unreadable.

It was no surprise to Zhang Xinjie that his Lord was interested in the mortal who had disrupted the status quo. Well, interested was just another way of saying attached, but for the sake of his Lord’s peace of mind, Zhang Xinjie resisted from uttering either of the words.

There are some things, he knew, that only the highest of the immortals were aware of. Things like certain secrets of the universe, the hidden past of the Gods, the actual reason why the Fae left the world and the inevitable darkness that was threatening the existence of this plane of existence. Zhang Xinjie understood and agreed that it wasn’t his place to know that information. But he didn’t need the forbidden secrets to recognise just how lonely his Lord was. 

The fact that his loneliness had been dispelled because of a mortal—a living one, at that—gave Zhang Xinjie a headache. There were no rules written down for such a situation. Zhang Xinjie thought wistfully of the days before that annoying mortal had barged into their home (he ignored how he himself had been pleased with the other’s presence, the way their conversations had refreshed him and how Ye Xiu’s shameless teasing had actually made him laugh). 

It also came as no surprise to him that his Lord had a problem with letting go. Ironic, he acknowledged, considering his Lord’s domain. 

Hence, when Ye Xiu had announced that his brother was here, in the same realm, Zhang Xinjie dreaded the inevitable confrontation. He wondered if he should talk to his Lord but refrained, unable to cross certain lines. Ultimately, however, he chose to keep his faith in the knowledge that Lord Han Wenqing was an honorable immortal and he would, in the end, always choose to do the right thing. 

Right then, standing in the throne room, listening to Ye Qiu make his request, Zhang Xinjie waited. 

Han Wenqing leaned back in his throne indolently. “You have told me why Ye Xiu is here.”

Ye Qiu looked wary but nodded in agreement.

Han Wenqing glanced at Ye Xiu then back at Ye Qiu. “You intend to leave with him.” Ye Qiu’s gaze became icy, bordering on disrespect, but he held his tongue. 

Zhang Xinjie looked at Ye Xiu but couldn’t find any panic. If anything, the mortal looked amused. A phantom throbbing in his head threatened to manifest into a real headache. His Lord seemed to have regained his cursed sense of humour and Zhang Xinjie took a small moment to regret all the objections to his Lord’s instigating pranks on other immortals. Even a war would have been easier to handle than this...posturing. 

“Why,” Han Wenqing drawled, “would I let you do that?”

And they were on. 

Zhang Xinjie valiantly resisted the urge to face-palm as his Lord and Ye Qiu went back and forth, tossing about arguments and cutthroat comments like they were flinging sharp knives. Ye Xiu, that dastardly mortal, was of no help either considering how he had decided to lean on one side of the throne while watching the conversation as though it was the highest level of entertainment he had ever witnessed. Zhang Xinjie wanted, so very badly, to point out to his Lord that he was actually winding up a mortal but he knew, sensing the way the other’s aura swelled and retreated, like a wave lapping at the shores, that Han Wenqing was, in fact, enjoying himself. And judging by the way Ye Qiu had relaxed ever so slightly, he knew that too.

Han Wenqing laughed, finally. “You’re fun.”

Ye Qiu raised both his eyebrows and said, drily, “I try.”

“Maybe you can stay here too,” Han Wenqing mused, his attention focusing inward. 

Time for an intervention, Zhang Xinjie realised.

“My Lord,” he called out, stepping forward. “You know that is not possible. They don’t belong here in this state and trying to keep them here would only cause more harm than good.”

Han Wenqing sighed, appearing, for a split second, weary and resigned and every inch an ancient being. “I know.” He looked at Ye Xiu, searching for something in the other’s golden gaze. Ye Xiu held his eyes, and then, after a long moment, smiled and inclined his head. Han Wenqing’s face softened.

“Very well,” Han Wenqing said. He stood from his throne and walked to the middle of the throne room. “I will not hinder either of you from leaving. I can open the pathway to go back to your realm, to where your,” he nodded at Ye Qiu, “tether is fixed.”

Relief filled Ye Qiu’s face. 

“But,” Zhang Xinjie said, purposefully mild. “You need to walk the path yourself. Alone.”

“That sounds ominous,” Ye Qiu gave a short laugh.

Neither Han Wenqing nor Zhang Xinjie smiled.

“Ye Xiu,” Han Wenqing beckoned him over.

“Old Han, are you going to say goodbye?” Ye Xiu teased. 

He felt light-hearted, his heart beating easily now that his twin was with him, the constant ache of the thinly-stretched twin-bond having disappeared. Even the heavy pressure on his soul, as the time passed with him in a realm he didn’t quite belong to, seemed bearable. Ye Xiu swept a look across the hall casually, stopping at the sight of his twin talking with Zhang Xinjie. Ye Qiu was looking right back at him, a senseless fear evident in his expression—the fear that nothing was real, that his twin wasn’t truly within his reach. Ye Xiu gave a reassuring look, understanding his brother the way only a twin would be able to, and tugged at his end of their bond. Ye Qiu shivered, so minutely, and gave Ye Xiu a deliberately long blink in acknowledgement.

“I thought a gift might be in order,” Han Wenqing said, glancing away for a second before looking back.

“A gift? For me? Old Han, was my presence that enjoyable in the few weeks I spent here?”

Han Wenqing was quiet for a long moment, studying Ye Xiu’s face. “It was not a few weeks.”

Ye Xiu looked puzzled. 

“The time dilation,” Han Wenqing clarified. “It was a few days in the other realm. Here, it was months.”

Ye Xiu gave a thoughtful hum. “I thought it was less than a month. How did I miss this?”

Han Wenqing smirked. “Magic.” Ye Xiu rolled his eyes. 

“Well, where’s my gift?” Ye Xiu asked, rocking back on his heels after noticing that he was a bit too close to the immortal. He didn’t want the other to smite him just when he was about to leave.

Han Wenqing looked over Ye Xiu’s shoulder. Ye Xiu turned, half-expecting a cerberus. 

That smile, that ever-so-familiar smile, half-cheeky and half-joyful, was the first thing he noticed. Ye Xiu’s breath stuttered. A red umbrella in hand, the one person he never dared to hope to see again stood before him, a painful whisper of the past brought to life.

“Muqiu…”

Chapter Text

Ye Xiu stared at the doorway through which Zhang Xinjie had just escorted Su Muqiu out. His mind was reeling from the unexpected reunion and the words they had exchanged. There was peace within him now where, before, there had only been carefully hidden turmoil. Ye Xiu closed his eyes and breathed past the lump of relief in his throat.

(Ye Xiu narrowed his eyes at the red umbrella in Su Muqiu’s hand. The colour was extremely familiar to him.

“Were you the one who–”

Su Muqiu grinned, twirling the umbrella in his hands. It had rain droplets on it, even though it never rains in the Underworld. “Of course. Someone had to make sure that you safely reached the palace instead of getting lost in, say, the Maze of the Demonic Souls or something. With your luck, you would probably have been enslaved by a High Demon.”

Ye Xiu opened his mouth to offer an argument before silently closing it again. Su Muqiu was right, loath though Ye Xiu was to admit it. His luck really was that bad.)

(“You did a good job, you know,” Su Muqiu said, softly, nudging his shoulder against Ye Xiu’s.

“I always do,” Ye Xiu retorted, automatically, leaning into Su Muqiu. “But about what in particular?”

“With Mucheng,” Su Muqiu smiled. “You did good. Thank you.”

Ye Xiu gave back a brittle smirk, wavering at the edges, his usual snark disappearing when faced with heartfelt gratitude.)

(“What are you going to do about Excellent Era?”

Ye Xiu sighed and inclined his head towards his brother who was furtively glancing at Ye Xiu and Su Muqiu every half a minute. “I have a feeling that Qiu-di will be taking care of it all. I’d be surprised if there even is an Excellent Era left when I get back.”

Su Muqiu laughed. “Protective brothers, eh?”

Ye Xiu caught his gaze and smiled, wide and true. “Protective brothers indeed.”)

(“Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself properly, Ye Xiu,” Su Muqiu said.

“Don’t I always?” Ye Xiu wondered.

Su Muqiu gave him a deadpan look. “No.”

Before Ye Xiu could reply, Ye Qiu popped up and said, solemnly, “I’ll make sure of it, I promise.”

Su Muqiu appraised Ye Qiu and nodded firmly. “Good.”)

(“It’s time,” Zhang Xinjie interjected. Su Muqiu grinned at him cheekily. “Hello, Mr. Lieutenant, sir!”

Zhang Xinjie grimaced while trying to appear as though he wasn’t. He nodded stiltedly at Su Muqiu.

“Don’t you remember me?” Su Muqiu asked innocently. 

“How could I ever forget you?” Zhang Xinjie muttered under his breath.

“Maybe I should jog your memory?” Su Muqiu said, an unholy gleam of mischief evident in his expression. “How about the River of Regrets? Do you remember our adventure there? Or, oh, the Fields of the Cursed Divine? Or even the Lord of the Dead’s bed–”

“Enough!” Zhang Xinjie burst out, loudly. “How can I possibly forget the one soul who pops up in places it has no business being? You evade my monitoring and sneak into places that shouldn’t, by law, allow you entry.” In a lower voice, he muttered, “How are you doing it, damn you!”

Su Muqiu winked at an openly amused Ye Xiu.)

Ye Xiu was grateful that he had been able to see that Su Muqiu was doing well in the afterlife. Though Zhang Xinjie had told him before that Su Muqiu was waiting for Su Mucheng and Ye Xiu himself before entering the reincarnation cycle, Ye Xiu had been hesitant to ask to see him. But now, Han Wenqing had somehow permitted it and Ye Xiu didn’t know how to thank him.

Han Wenqing shifted silently by Ye Xiu’s side, giving him space to compose himself after saying goodbye to Su Muqiu. Ye Xiu was suddenly filled with fondness for the awkward immortal. 

“Old Han,” Ye Xiu said, unable to look at the other. Han Wenqing didn’t say anything but Ye Xiu could feel his attention, heavy and intent, on him. Ye Xiu swallowed and smiled, tremulous but happy. “Thank you,” he murmured, softly. His heart felt like it was cracked open. 

Han Wenqing didn’t reply but he stepped closer, letting their shoulders brush. Ye Xiu closed his eyes and enjoyed the other’s warmth for a moment longer. 

“You have to go first. No matter what you see or hear, you should not turn back. Ye Xiu will follow but you should not look back for him.”

“What happens if I do?”

“You will reach your destination safely.” A heavy sigh. “Without your brother. And there will be no way back.”

Ye Qiu observed the portal that Han Wenqing had opened in the middle of the throne room. The edges were blue-tinged with golden sparks flying off in all directions. The space within the portal though was pitch-black. It was completely dark with no indication as to where the other end of the portal led to. He thought he could be excused for any misgivings he had, when one considered how dangerously mysterious that portal appeared to be. 

He turned to gauge Han Wenqing’s sincerity and found him speaking with Ye Xiu. 

“–will miss playing Glory with you, Old Han,” Ye Xiu was saying. His hand was on Han Wenqing’s arm and he was leaning in towards him. Actually, both of them were leaning towards each other. Ye Qiu blinked because that was new but not quite surprising. Ye Qiu rolled his eyes upward, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course, his brother would have caught an immortal’s attention.

“Why do I even bother?” Ye Qiu grumbled with all the grumpiness of a little brother embarrassed by his older sibling. His lips twitched in helpless humour as Ye Xiu pulled Han Wenqing into a hug and the immortal froze, unable to comprehend the complexities of mortal affection. 

Zhang Xinjie sighed from beside him. Ye Qiu raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“Months,” Zhang Xinjie said, wearily. “I’ve had to put up with them for months.”

Ye Qiu sniggered.

“Ready?”

Ye Qiu pursed his lips and didn’t answer.

“Didi?” 

Ye Qiu inhaled sharply. “How can I be sure that you’ll be right behind me?” He clenched his fists, trying to keep them from shaking. If he went back and Ye Xiu wasn’t there with him… It didn’t bear thinking about. 

“You can’t,” Han Wenqing said, bluntly. 

Ye Xiu stepped up to Ye Qiu and pressed his palm against his racing heart. “Trust this,” he said, gold peering into gold. “Trust in us.” Ye Qiu felt a tug in the bond between them and let out a shuddering breath.

“It’s a leap of faith,” Han Wenqing said. 

“I’ll be right behind you, didi,” Ye Xiu assured. 

“Okay,” Ye Qiu breathed out. “Okay.” He nodded once. Turning to Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie, Ye Qiu bowed low. “Thank you for everything.” 

Zhang Xinjie bowed back while Han Wenqing inclined his head in acknowledgement. 

Then, Ye Qiu gazed at his twin, pleading wordlessly. Ye Xiu laughed, shaking his head, and folded his arms around Ye Qiu who nuzzled into the warmth, shamelessly seeking comfort. 

“Gege…” he murmured, into Ye Xiu’s neck. He took a long moment to orient himself in which Ye Xiu patiently soothed a hand over his back like he used to do when they were kids and Ye Qiu snuck into his room at night because of nightmares. Then, he stepped away.

“See you on the other side, gege,” Ye Qiu said, firmly. 

With one last look at the other half of his soul, Ye Qiu stepped into the swirling darkness.

When asked later, Ye Qiu wouldn’t be able to put the experience of travelling through the gateway into words. All he remembered were flashes of hellfire and heavenly lightning and the dreadful certainty that his brother was not behind him. He heard screams and pleas for help in his brother’s voice. He heard soft, heart-breaking crying. Every cell in his body yearned to look behind him; he told himself that just a glance would be fine, just a small, tiny peek to check that his brother was unharmed. But every time he thought that, his brother’s words echoed in his head.

Trust in us.

When Ye Qiu finally stumbled out of the gateway, onto the pavement, in full view of Su Mucheng and the other pros, all of whom were pale and shaky but determined to hold the spell, he was crying. He stood, unable to stop his tears as the bond stretched so thin that he feared that it would break, shatter into pieces. He stood, shaking, unable to gather up enough courage to turn back, so terribly afraid that–

The bond snapped back like a rubber band and at the same time–

“Didi, you can turn back now.”

Ye Qiu spun around and there he was—his brother, smiling and whole and unharmed and alive. He threw himself at Ye Xiu, trusting his brother to catch him and he did. Ye Qiu shook apart as all the tension and bone-numbing fear and uncertainty slowly drained away and overwhelming relief took its place. And through it all, Ye Xiu was there, holding him securely, murmuring comforting words and promises. 

Ye Xiu extended an arm and Su Mucheng was there, slotting into place. 

“It’s okay now,” Ye Xiu said, his voice soothing. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He tightened his hold on both his siblings, his heart aching as they sobbed against him.

Wang Jiexi, Yu Wenzhou, Huang Shaotian, and Zhou Zekai stayed behind, pale and wan but smiling gladly at the sight of Ye Xiu. 

Ye Xiu could only smile back at them, helplessly fond, and close his eyes, breathing in the scent of ozone and savoring the warmth of his siblings. The threatening pull on his chest—the Underworld seeking to remove that which did not belong—was finally gone. 

He was home.

Chapter Text

Tao Xuan had always been taught by his parents that demons were one of the more powerful beings out there but—but—dragons were even stronger. No demon who had gone up against a dragon had survived; no self-preserving demon would oppose a dragon in the first place. Tao Xuan knew that just as well as he knew his own inheritance—the cursed hellish blood running through his veins. And yet, somehow, he had missed the truth behind Ye Xiu’s golden eyes (and how did he miss that, how did he not know that there were two of them); he had missed the evidence of fire-and-fury behind the calm smile and friendly gaze. 

The wrath of a dragon is hard to invoke. After all, what would a mighty celestial being want with mere mortals? 

But, oh but, when the anger was well and truly stoked, only scorched earth remained to bear witness to the carnage. 

And now, bearing the weight of Ye Qiu’s heavy gaze on him, Tao Xuan could only close his eyes in helpless defeat. It was time for his judgement, and he was aware that there would be no mercy. The silent figure of Ye Xiu, half-hidden in the shadows, made the part of Tao Xuan that was truly, overwhelmingly human, wonder how things had gone so wrong. 

(Deep inside, far below the hissing hatred of his demonic side, Tao Xuan was so very glad that Ye Xiu was well.)

“What are we going to do?”

Ye Xiu turned towards Su Mucheng who had come to stand by him in the cool night air. “Hm?”

“Excellent Era,” Su Mucheng clarified. “Somehow, I can’t see us continuing as though nothing happened. And the change in management has already reached the news outlets.” She glanced at him. “There are rumours too, accurate ones, on what actually happened.” 

Ye Xiu gave her a sharp look. She responded with a short laugh. 

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “The rumours are about what they attempted.” She smirked. “After all, everyone knows that no one comes back from the dead.” Su Mucheng nudged his shoulder with hers as he huffed out a laugh. 

“What do you want to do?” Ye Xiu asked, after a few minutes of silence.

Su Mucheng didn’t answer immediately. She wrapped her hands on the balcony railing as she looked to the stars and breathed deeply. Since talking about Ye Xiu’s ‘adventures’ in the other realm, and hearing about her brother, some impossible weight that she hadn’t even been aware of, seemed to have dropped away. She walked with a stronger gait, her head held high. When Ye Xiu had noted that she appeared more confident, she had smiled and commented that the voices couldn’t overpower her anymore. Ye Xiu had just smiled knowingly and hugged her.

“This isn’t our Excellent Era,” Su Mucheng began, keeping her eyes on the wide expanse of the night sky. “Not anymore. Everything feels wrong.” She sighed. “Either we change everything or we leave. But,” she turned to face Ye Xiu, biting her lips to stop herself from smiling, “I do think you already have a plan.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Ye Xiu said, innocence dripping from every syllable.

Su Mucheng arched an eyebrow at him. “You don’t, do you?” She said, drily. 

Ye Xiu hummed. A corner of his lips twitched as he kept his gaze on the busy Internet Cafe across the street.

“Old Ye! Old Ye!” Huang Shaotian whispered furiously, hiding behind his brightly coloured scarf, darting glances every other way furtively to check that no one was observing them. 

Ye Xiu shared an exasperated glance with Yu Wenzhou.

“You didn’t lose your Glory card, right?” Huang Shaotian asked. He was one short step away from reaching forward and shaking the other man till words spilled out. 

“Did you really think I would have lost One Autumn Leaf?” Ye Xiu asked, incredulously.

Huang Shaotian deflated as he heaved a huge sigh of relief. Yu Wenzhou gave Ye Xiu an apologetic look.

Wang Jiexi snickered as Zhou Zekai shook his head.

“I’m glad you are well,” Wang Jiexi said, while bidding farewell. “You are well, aren’t you?” He showed his concern openly and Ye Xiu gave him a reassuring smile. 

“You won’t be rid of me that easily, Big-Eyed Wang,” Ye Xiu teased.

“Good,” Zhou Zekai said, with a firm nod.

A new team swept across Glory like a thunderstorm.

Tyranny.

The losses Team Tyranny faced were far outweighed by the number of wins they scored. They earned a dedicated fanbase for their tendency to keep marching forward ruthlessly and without any hesitation. People loved their straightforward strategies, brutal in their execution.

Tyranny wiped out so many other teams on its way to the League, cheered on by thunderous applause and fired up fans. And finally, Tyranny faced the wall that was Excellent Era, knocked down and then rebuilt, stronger than before, led by Ye Xiu. 

An unstoppable force versus an immovable object.

There were moments that went down in history as legendary. The match between Excellent Era and Tyranny was one of them. The other was when Excellent Era’s Captain, Ye Xiu, widely known to be shameless, met Tyranny’s Captain, Han Wenqing, with the words “Old Han! Did you miss me so much that you decided to form a team?”

One thing that the Tyranny fans had established as an unequivocal fact was that Han Wenqing was absolutely scary and had no time for any sort of annoyance or distraction. One thing that all the Glory pros had established as fact was that Ye Xiu was both—an annoyance and a distraction. Judging by said data, it was obvious that people expected a fiery meeting between the two captains. 

Was it any wonder that the internet broke down when Han Wenqing smiled at Ye Xiu instead of smacking him in the face?

One thing that Ye Qiu found it hard to get over was how time flowed differently for the both of them. What had been days for Ye Qiu, had felt like months for his brother. 

The thought of Ye Xiu alone in a realm that had it out for him, fighting through the pain of the bleeding wound that was the almost-shattered twin bond, living through the feeling of his very soul being pulled apart ever so slowly, surrounded by people—gods, really; immortals who, as legend dictated, couldn’t usually be bothered about mortal affairs—who were strangers, who couldn’t have been trusted to care for his well-being…

Yes, Su Muqiu had been there, looking out for him.

Yes, Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie had turned out to be quite decent and had actively tried to keep Ye Xiu as safe as he could be.

Yes, things had turned out better than one could have hoped for.

But, it could all have fallen apart very, very easily. Just the thought of that possibility was enough to make Ye Qiu feel breathless with terror. And in the wake of terror, came rage. Ye Qiu’s parents had been a huge help in aiding the twins to rebuild their twin bond—it was still fragile compared to how it had been before, but it was theirs. Being able to feel Ye Xiu on the other end went a long way in soothing the primal part of him which screamed for vengeance and sacrifice and blood. 

Of course, he couldn’t just let people off the hook for what they dared to do. Satisfaction sat heavy on his chest after he had exacted his brand of justice. (The less said about what became of Tao Xuan, Liu Hao, Cui Li, and Chen Yehui, the better.) Ye Xiu sent a wave of amusement and reassurance across their bonds. Ye Qiu could almost see his brother shaking his head at him and laughing. 

He asked him once, a few weeks after everything had happened, “How did you cope? How were you able to push through that...agony?” 

He knew how, of course. But right then, after nights full of jerking awake from nightmares, Ye Qiu needed his brother to spell it out for him. And as expected, Ye Xiu’s answer had been simple in its entirety and humbling in its simplicity. 

“You were coming for me. All I had to do was wait.”

So, yes, things could have been much worse. But Ye Xiu was where he was meant to be, on the other side of their twin bond, doing what he loved. Ye Qiu was able to ensure that Ye Xiu’s life was better because, let’s be real, Ye Xiu wouldn’t know proper self-care if it hit him in the face. And now that Ye Xiu had agreed, after severe, stringent scoldings from their parents, to learn more about their heritage and inheritance and the power that was flowing through their veins, Ye Qiu was able to spend more time with him even though he still had to share Ye Xiu’s attention with Glory of all things (no, he wasn’t sulking, shut up, brother).

Everything was good.

Well, almost.

If he had to watch his brother flirt one more time with the Lord of the Dead who had, in a fit of spontaneity, decided to abscond from his duties to play Glory in the living realm, Ye Qiu thought he would kill someone. At least he wasn’t alone in suffering; the thought was a cold comfort.

“I regret everything,” Zhang Xinjie, the Vice-Captain of Tyranny, said flatly. He was staring, horrified, at how Ye Xiu was nudging Han Wenqing playfully and how Han Wenqing was exuding a smugly pleased aura and nudging him back, without any regard to them being in public. 

Ye Qiu lifted his can of Coke in commiseration. “I’ll drink to that.”