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Chapter Text

Wen Qing stared at her hands. This was all wrong. She had died, burned to death for someone else’s gain. This had to be a hallucination, a review of her life in the throes of death.

Now, her hands – blood soaked and trembling – hovered over the open surgical wound in Wei Wuxian’s lower dantian.

Slowly, she raised her gaze up his restrained body to his pale face. This was wrong. She would not, could not butcher him again for the benefit of a man who smiled as smoke choked her lungs and flames scorched her skin.

No. This would not happen again. However she was here in this moment again, she would make the right choice this time. She would choose the man who stood beside her family, the man who gave his life for theirs, the man who gave everything for them. He was honourable, worthy of such a strong, pure core.

The other one, the selfish one, who saw the plight of her family and turned his back, he was not worthy. He knew what they were, a ragtag bunch of dying, broken mortals: the elderly, the sick, the defenceless, and a child. That meant nothing to his selfish heart.

Sure, he was willing to help her, just her, if she would be his wife. He would help for his own gain, his own benefit. That wasn’t love. That was the infatuated longing of a spoiled child.

No. Wei Wuxian could hate her for refusing his request. She could live with that. Not that he would; the frustrating pest had no ability to hold a grudge.

Well, that wasn’t a problem for her.

She had witnessed the hurt he hid when his so called brother declared him the enemy of the cultivation world. She had patched him up when that same false sibling gutted him in a dual of pretense. He had almost died so many times just to keep them alive.

In the end, she wasn’t sure it mattered. Had they lived after she and a-Ning turned themselves in? Probably not. In hindsight, Wei Wuxian was probably right; surrendering themselves to the Jin wouldn’t stop Jin Guangshan from coveting the seal. If anything, her death probably hurried his death along. After all, she was the only one capable of patching him up and keeping his crumbling body going.

“A-Ning,” she called softly, her tears sliding down her face. “Put him under.”

Wei Wuxian let out a sound of protest through the cloth clenched between his teeth.

“Now, a-Ning, now.” She clenched her jaw, determined to sew him back up.

“Wha… No, don’t stop,” the selfless man insisted, spitting out the gag. “I can do this. Wen Ning, don’t…”

His protests faded as his consciousness left him. Her little brother didn’t ask any questions, though his curiosity burned in his eyes, shadowed by relief. Instead, he helped her put him back together and clean him up.

After, she sutured the cut she made in Jiang Wanyin back together, resisting the urge to let him fester and rot. She was still a doctor, a healer even for a man like him.

Once they were done, she helped her brother bring both men back to the outskirts of Yiling. From there, she slipped back into the supervisor’s office and packed up as many supplies as she could. After changing out of her Wen robes into the plain ones of a commoner, she took one of the donkeys and a rickety cart left by the previous owners of the building. She piled her medical supplies and food in the back, along with several blankets and worn, common robes.

Fortunately, most of the guards were out on the town since Yiling was not considered in any danger. This allowed her to slip back to her brother without anyone noticing.

If all went the same as last time, Wen Chao wouldn’t show up for two more days. This would give them plenty of time to get back to get away.

“JieJie?” Wen Ning said, the word filled with unspoken questions.

She patted her brother’s hand. “Help me change their robes. We’ll bury their old ones, so no one can find them. You change yours too. As of right now, we’re just simple farmers bringing supplies home.”

She paused and touched his cheek, her heart aching at the sight of him alive and breathing. This time, she would make sure he stayed that way.

“Come on. We don’t have much time.” Daylight was already fading and she wanted to be well away from Yiling before the morning.

After changing their clothes and getting rid of any indication of their identity, they lifted their unconscious bodies into the cart and covered them with blankets. Once they were secure, Wen Qing climbed up beside her brother. He smiled at her, his expression one of open trust, before urging the donkey forward.

They travelled on in silence, just the sound of the squeaking cart and the clop of the donkey’s hooves to accompany their ride.

“We’re going home, a-Ning. We’re going home and collecting our family. If we get a good head start, we should be able to escape to somewhere. It’s either that, or we change our names and hide away in one of the other sects. But I don’t think that will work too well. If Wen Rouhan wins this time, he’ll come searching for us, and if he doesn’t, the Jins will. Either way, we mean nothing to the cultivation world, so we might as well run while we can.”

Her brother blinked in confusion but didn’t argue. “W-what about Master W-wei and Master Jiang?” he asked instead.

She turned toward the two inert bodies in the back and frowned. “We’ll keep them unconscious as long as possible. I’d like to take Wuxian with us and save him from this mess, but I’m not even sure I can save us.” Her voice broke at the end, and she hid her weakness behind a cough.

A-Ning didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. She wanted to tell him everything, but it all seemed too much right now. After everything in her previous life, she was so tired. How she got here was a mystery she supposed only Wei Wuxian would be able to solve.

A chuckle snuck past her lips. She could hear his voice even now. “Yes, that’s it! It’s so simple. You see…” And he would go on, prattling his theories so fast she almost couldn’t keep up.

Her little brother wrapped his arm around her. “Sleep.”

Despite herself, she yawned and leaned her head against his shoulder. He was so warm, so alive. Even if she woke from this dream to find herself in the after world, this moment was worth everything.

When Wei Wuxian woke, he did not expect to open his eyes to a rustic ceiling in a simple house where sunlight filtered in and lit up the honey-coloured wood. Where was he?

A jolt of fear ran through him. Where was Jiang Cheng?

He tried to leap from his bed, but his limbs wouldn’t co-operate. What the hell? His whole body was numb from the neck down. This wasn’t good. Did they betray him? No. If they had, he’d be in some cell in Nightless City, not someone’s home.

He reached for his core. Was it there? Did she finish the surgery? At first, he thought she had before realizing his core was still there, just locked away. No, no, no! He wanted to shout, to break his immobility and tear down anything in his way until he found her and made her finish what they started.

“D-don’t try to move. It w-won’t w-work,” the gentle voice of Wen Ning cut through his thoughts. The Wen’s round face appeared in his eyeline. “I’m s-sorry, Master Wei, for s-subduing you, but w-we are trying to s-save your life. W-would you like s-some w-water?”

He blinked at the younger man, trying to put together a coherent thought. “Water? Water? No, I don’t want water, Wen Ning,” he croaked, his throat parched. “I want to be free. I want to know where my brother is and I want to know why your sister didn’t transfer my core!” He started to cough on the last word.

The damn Wen helped him sit up and have some water as though everything was normal. Unable to strike the cup away, he let the liquid sooth his throat; if only to let him yell more.

“That’s enough, a-Ning. Go help Granny and the others finish collecting supplies.”

With a polite nod, Wen Ning put the cup down and left Wei Ying alone with his sister.

“Let me go,” Wei Ying ordered, trying to move again.

She pulled up a stool beside his bed. “No.”

Damn her. He would gut her when he finally broke free. “Where’s my brother?”

“In the next room. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

He glared at her. “You better have a good reason for stopping the surgery.”

“I do.” She folded her hands together on her lap, fingers clenched as though containing her emotions. “But it’s not what you think. The surgery would have worked.” Her gaze shifted away from him. “It would have worked, and you both would have lived… for now.”

“Then why did you stop?” he demanded, struggling against his bonds. He gave up for the moment, exhausted from the fight. “What do you mean, for now?”

A weary huff slipped from her lips as her dark eyes turned back to him. “I will explain everything, but I need you to listen, Wei Wuxian. I need you to swear you will listen to me, without interrupting, until I’m done. Then I will answer any questions you have.”

Part of him wanted to refuse, to curse her and insist she finish the surgery. Unfortunately, her gaze carried more emotions, more affection than they had before. Had she fallen in love with him? No. That was ridiculous. She wasn’t the type to fall for anyone easily. Besides, she would never let such passions keep her from fulfilling her duties.

“My brother is okay?” She nodded, her jaw clenched and eyes tightened for a fleeting second. Whatever that meant, he would find out soon enough. “Fine, I promise. I will listen, but if I don’t like what I hear, you will finish the transfer.”

She took a deep breath. “I promise to do what I can to help you and Jiang Wanyin.”

He wanted to protest, to say that wasn’t good enough; unfortunately, he wasn’t in much of a place to argue. At the moment, she held all the power.

With a quick lick of her lips, she took his nod as an agreement and began. “I’m not sure how to explain this. If I could, I would transfer all my thoughts and memories into your brain to save us both.” She pressed her hands against her face before letting them fall to her lap again. “To you, the last thing you remember before I stopped the surgery was me telling you the anesthetic would not work. To me, the last thing I remember is burning alive while the rest of the cultivation world celebrated.”

“What?” he exclaimed before biting his lip to keep from saying more. This was ridiculous. Surely she had a better story… But her expression was sincere and even hopeful. She desperately wanted him to believe her. “I don’t understand,” he managed, his voice low.

“I know.” Her voice cracked and a tear slipped down her cheek.

He stared, confused further by her uncharacteristic show of sorrow.

She stood and began to pace as though unable to contain her emotions without moving. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’ve been through this before.” Her hand waved in a large circle. “All of this, the surgery, the war… after. I- I should be dead. I was dead.” The Wen doctor slumped back into her set.

“Time travel.” He didn’t want to believe her. The idea was impossible. Yet, what was life if not impossible? He was a Jiang, after all. “Okay. So… it didn’t go well.”

Her bitter laugh made him wince. “After the surgery, we all went our separate ways. You were captured by Wen Chao.”

“Ah.” He stared at the ceiling. “I died. That’s not surprising. I am ready for that.”

She thwacked him in the forehead. “You self-sacrificing idiot! People care about you. I care about you! Stop throwing yourself away!”

Surprised, he gaped at her. They didn’t know each other well enough for her to care about him. What happened in the future?

“While you’re at it, stop interrupting me, or I’ll never get through this. This isn’t easy for me either, you know.” Wen Qing sat back, arms crossed over her chest and a bitter expression on her face. “Besides, there are worse things than death.”

Sure, like the food in Cloud Recesses, he wanted to say but decided she wouldn’t appreciate the joke. “Like?”

Instead of answering, she jumped to her feet. Normally, she had no problem being blunt, but the events of the future gnawed at her gut and stuck in her throat. “The details don’t matter. Can’t you just accept that it all goes bad and this surgery is a horrible idea.”

He thought about this for a moment. “This is war. No part of it is good, but this surgery would make up for some of the bad.”

“No it wouldn’t. All it does is divide you and your – brother – farther apart.”

He didn’t like the way she said ‘brother’. “I know you don’t like him, but he’s lost so much and it’s all my fault. I owe…”

“Don’t.” She thrust a finger toward him. “Don’t you dare say the fall of Lotus Pier was your fault. Wen Rouhan had planned to go after Yunmeng from the beginning. He wants dominion over all the cultivation sects. I have listened to you spurt that nonsense for too long to put up with it for another lifetime.”

He scowled at her. This was getting them nowhere. “Fine. If you want me to believe you - if you want me to agree with you about the transfer, let me loose and get me some cinnabar and paper.”

The Wen doctor scowled back. “Why? I don’t need you blowing up the house.”

“I’m not going to blow up anything. I promise.”

She rolled her eyes and growled. “You've said that before. Fine. I’ll get you what you want. You have until dawn to figure yourself out.”

Wei Ying wanted to ask what happened at dawn, but she didn’t give him a chance. Instead, she swept out of the room, leaving him to stare at the ceiling again.

His mind whirled with thoughts and ideas. If she came back in time, what happened to the previous timeline? Was she from a different timeline? No. That didn’t make sense. If she was from a different timeline, there would be two of her. The thought made him shiver – too many needles, too many stern glares.

Okay, if she was from this timeline, it was her soul, that had transmigrated back into her younger body. So what happened to everyone else? Nothing that existed stopped existing. It might change form, but it still existed.

Did that mean his future self, the pieces of his soul that made up his future experiences and memories were still out there, floating about the timeline? If so, could he gather them to himself and restore those memories? He rubbed the side of his nose, sorting through the puzzle before him.

Wen Ning came back in the room and put a pile of talisman paper and some cinnabar on a low table. After, he came over to Wei Ying and removed several needles from his spine and neck.

He smiled at the Wen, who smiled back before scurrying out of the room. A few moments later, movement returned to his body. He crawled over to the desk and began to write.

By the time the sun started to cast a soft glow on the tip of Dafen Mountain, Wen Qing’s family had managed to gather up anything too precious to leave behind, and anything useful for the future. Still, they were leaving far more than they were taking.

It was sad. She had grown up in this little valley with Dafen looming above them. All her life, she had felt safe here. In her last life, she had tried so hard to save the land and the people. She wanted to preserve the history of the Dafen Wen in honour of her Wen ancestors. Yet, all she hoped was futile in the end.

The people were more important than the place; the blood more important than the name. What good was a name when there was no one left alive to use it?

After checking on Jiang Wanyin, she made her way to the small hut where she had left Wei Wuxian. Their discussion, yesterday, hadn’t gone well. She had failed to tell him much of the future. It still hurt to think about her previous life. She wanted to tell him everything, but when faced with his healthy, young self, words failed her. Maybe she was a coward.

It was a word she never thought to apply to herself before. Still, how did one put such horrific things into words? Well, today she would have to no matter what he said.

With grim determination, she entered the room without knocking.

After her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, her heart stuttered in her chest. Wei Wuxian lay on the floor, unmoving, with paper and markings strewn across the floor. She swore under her breath and rushed to him, hoping he was simply asleep.

“A-Ning,” she shouted, taking his wrist to check for a pulse. “Damn, idiot, what did you do now?”

When Wei Ying regained consciousness again, he opened his eyes to a dark sky criss-crossed with thunder. He groaned and sat up, peering around to find himself in a wagon with Jiang Wanyin lying beside him. Nearby, Qing-jie and a-Ning sat with a few others around a fire. Granny stirred rice in a pot while a baby a-Yuan and a little girl sat in a-Ning’s lap.

Frozen still, he stared at them for several minutes before leaping out of the wagon and catching Qing-jie in a hug. “Ahhh!” he shouted, whirling her around. “Qing-jie! You’re alive!”

“Let me go!” She smacked him on the top of his head.

He let her go before dancing around the circle of people, touching each one to make sure they were real. Finally, he knelt beside a-Ning, his eyes glued on a tiny a-Yuan. “

Oh, he’s so small.” He glanced at his little brother, his live and breathing, brother of his heart. “He is our pint-sized radish, yes?”

“He’s my baby broder,” the little girl hugging a-Ning’s arm.

Wei Ying wiped his face with his sleeve, her words registering amid the new memories in his head. “Brother? Oh.” He sniffled, choking on his tears.

“Here. Eat.” Qing-jie shoved a bowl of rice into his hands. “I take it whatever you did worked?”

“Uh, huh.” He stared at the congee, his appetite disappearing. “Yeah, it did. I remember. I remember everything.” He gave the bowl to a-Yuan’s sister and walked away.

Before he managed ten steps, the weight of the past timeline came crashing down on him, sending him to his knees.

Tender arms wrapped around him. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Cry, boy. We’re here with you.”

Granny’s words sliced through him, and he sobbed in her arms until he could barely breath. She hummed a soft song while rocking him and stroking his hair. Her kindness hurt and soothed at the same time. She didn’t even know him at this time, but she still treated him as though he was her own child.

“Aiya, Popo. I know you don’t know me, but this one is so sorry he couldn’t protect you,” he whispered once he managed to gather himself back together.

“Silly boy,” she scolded, hugging him close. “Wen Qing and Wen Ning told us all about you. We know what you tried to do for us. We know what you gave up for us.” She lifted his chin to look into his eyes. “And I can see for myself you have a kind and giving spirit. You are mine, now. We are family, and family takes care of each other.”

He managed a wet smile and a slight nod, his head heavy.

“Now, be a good grandson and go eat.”

With a laugh, he rose, helping her from the ground as he did so. He went back to the fire, embarrassed by his emotional outburst. Wen Qing plopped another bowl of rice in his hands.

She squeezed his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to remember.”

“It’s better this way,” he told her between bites. “I would have never given up trying to transfer my core to Jiang Cheng, otherwise – no matter what you said.” He laughed bitterly at himself. “Gods, I was so arrogant at this age.”

“You w-were hurting, t-trying to hold on t-to w-what you had left.” Ning-di blushed as Wei Ying stared at him. “At least, I-I t-think s-so from w-what Jiejie t-told us.”

He grinned at the young Wen. “Ahh, a-Ning, it’s so good to see you again. You truly are the best of all of us.”

Wen Ning turned a brighter shade of red in the firelight. “I-I w-will help put the b-babies to b-bed.”

Granny took a-Yuan from him while he scooped up the little girl, and the two of them took the children to one of the makeshift tents nearby.

Left alone with Wen Qing, they both stared, in silence, at the fire for a while.

“I’m sorry and thank-you,” he said, remembering the moment they left him. “You paralyzed me and left me with that.”

“It’s all I had to give you,” she said, her voice soft. “I just wanted them to leave you alone, even if it meant my death.”

He chuckled, his stomach churning. “Well, it didn’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went to Koi Tower to stop you. I was too late, so I went to Nightless City where all the sects had gathered. By then, I was drowning in too many voices, too many deaths. I stood above them and watched all the righteous vow to kill me and the rest of your family. Even then, I tried to get them to listen, but they were set on power and revenge. The Jin wanted the Tiger Seal and were willing to do anything to get it. And the rest of the cultivation world were more than willing to go along, even Jiang Cheng.”

Wei Ying glanced back at the wagon where his brother lay. “I lost control and tried to destroy them before they destroyed everyone else. My Shijie was there. She tried to stop me, and I would have stopped for her; I did stop for her but the dead no longer listened to me, while the living never did. Shijie died. She died because of me.” He paused to keep himself from sobbing again, though tears still fell on his lap.

“Everything is blurry after that. I remember someone, Lan Zhan, I think, talking to me, holding me. I remember him standing over me.” He closed his eyes, memories assaulting him with things he hadn’t been aware of at the time. Lan Zhan was crouched beside him, his beautiful, righteous Lan Zhan. He was speaking, encouraging him, trying to reach him, but the other voices were too cold, too strong.

Wei Ying froze inside as his former soulmate’s words filtered through to him. ‘I love you. I love you. Only you, Wei Ying!’

Gasping, Wei Ying pressed his hands to his head. “No. No. Even that I ruined. He hated me. I know he did.”

‘Only you, Wei Ying.’

Laughter bubbled up inside him, spilling out in an unstoppable flow. He clutched his stomach and laughed until his whole body ached. “He loved me, and I told him to get lost. The great Hanguang-Jun loves this lowly creature.” He shook his head, his hair flying in his face. “No. He can’t. I can’t. I won’t sully him like that.”

Wen Qing moved toward him, and he backed away, gathering himself back together.

“No. No needles. I’m okay. I’m okay.” He scrubbed the tears from his face and drank the water she passed him. “I don’t suppose you have anything stronger?”

She glared at him, and he grinned.

“The last thing you need, right now, is to get drunk.” She grabbed his wrist, and a wisp of her spiritual power slipped into him, making its way through his meridians. Her eyes widened as she reached his core. He stared at her.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Shh.”

“Wen Qing.”

“Quiet,” she ordered her brows furrowing as she concentrated.

He sent his own awareness through his meridians into his core and gasped. Instead of warm and golden, his core now spun with the pure silver of a shining star.

“What does this mean?” Wei Ying asked after she did a thorough examination of his body and core.

“I don’t know.” She frowned at him. “Why must you be a constant source of medical mysteries? Couldn’t you restrain yourself from turning cultivation upside down until we figure out what to do with Jiang Wanyin and our family?”

He ignored her comments and drew forth a wisp of resentful energy from their surroundings instead. The dark mist whirled around his hand until it touched his fingers. As it sunk into him, the icy fragment became warm as it entered his meridians.

She seized his wrist again, her eyes growing bigger as she checked on him again. “It’s transformed. How? It’s merged with your spiritual energy and the two have altered to become something more, something more powerful than I have ever experienced. It is a perfect balance of Yin and Yang energy.”

“Am I an immortal?” The idea thrilled him. Maybe he could find his own mountain and stay there, away from the rest of the cultivation world. After everything he had been through, he understood why Baoshan Sanren removed herself.

“No,” she said after a moment longer. “I don’t think so – close but not quite. From all I’ve learned and experienced, this is something different, something new.” She dropped his hand. “Ahh, you give me a headache.”

“Do you think I can fix Jiang Cheng’s core?” he asked, hopeful.

She gave a bitter chuckle? “You still want to? He watched me die, you know. He stood in front of me with your core whirling around in his body and smiled as the flames destroyed me.”

“Yeah. That’s not surprising.” It would have been once but not anymore, not after the siege. “He stabbed me at the end, a fatal blow. This was after he used Zidain to destroy whatever he could. He and his disciples led the attack. The barrier was set to recognize him and let him in. I didn’t think to change it. Once he was in, he destroyed it to let the others pass through.”

He threw a piece of wood on the dying fire. “Even then, when he faced me with such hatred in his eyes, I wanted to save him from the guilt of killing me. I also wanted to keep anyone else from getting the seal, so I destroyed it, and it destroyed me.”

Realization hit him, and he wagged a finger at her. “That’s it! It’s so simple. When I destroyed the seal, one of my last thoughts was of you. I remember wishing you lived. That wish, that thought of you must have allowed the seal to bring you back in time.”

His jiejie narrowed her gaze at him. “Can I study your brain?”

“What? No!” He put a hand to his chest. “I need it.”

“Fine.” She sighed dramatically before sharing a smile with him. “So what do you want to do with him?” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the wagon. “He’s in a medical induced coma right now, but I can’t leave him there for much longer, especially without a core.”

He pursed his lips and rubbed the side of his nose. “Hmm. We can’t give him mine.”

“No, we can’t. I’m surprised you would even consider it.”

“Well, I still need to get him a core. After all, I told him I would. I promised his parents I would keep him alive no matter what. And Shijie needs him.”

In his peripheral vision, he caught her eye-roll and ignored it. “If it was a weaker core, would the donor still have to stay awake?”

She shrugged. “Probably. You thinking of grabbing a stray cultivator and taking theirs?” Her eyebrows rose and she pursed her lips. “There are a few Wen soldiers I know, who could use to lose their cores. It might work if someone more powerful kept the core from dissipating. It won’t be as strong as his original core, though.”

“That’s okay. I don’t think even I believe he deserves a powerful core. Besides, it will give him something to work on.”

Silence descended again as they stared into the fire again, watching the sparking embers float into the air.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

Qing-jie threw a stick into the flames. “Originally, we were going to try and find a spot south of Yiling. As far as I remember, there aren’t too many settlements that way. We all decided to leave the name of Wen behind. Uncle Four convinced everyone the ancestors would rather the people lived over the name.”

“What name did you decide on?” A couple of options came to his mind, but it wasn’t his choice.

Her expression turned mischievous. “Wei.”

His jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s a bad idea. You can’t. I haven’t got a good reputation. What? Why? Why would you do that?”

She patted his head. “Calm down. It was a unanimous decision, and you’re family, so why not?”

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, you people will be the… oh, ah, never mind.”

“The Burial Ground is closer,” he said after taking a moment to gather himself back together. “With the resources we have now, we could make it a much better home. Plus, with this core I think I can do a better job cleaning the land.”

“I was thinking that too,” she admitted with a resigned sigh. “As much as I hate the place, it would offer up the best protection.”

“Especially if no one knows we’re there,” he added.

“You aren’t going to help in the war?”

“Haven’t decided yet. I would like to see…” He caught himself. Lan Zhan. What was he going to do about that fuddy duddy? “My Shijie. I’d like to see my shijie once more.”

“Right. Just your shijie.”

He shoved her arm. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pick on me. I’m fragile.” He sulked, donning sad eyes and a pouting lip.

She stood, stretching as she did so. “Right. Says the guy who defeated death more than once. Good night, a-Ying. We’re leaving before daylight.”

After she disappeared into one of the tents, he stayed by the fire for a while longer.

“Lan Zhan, I’ll do better this time, I promise,” he whispered into the night.

As he stood before the boundary of the Burial Ground, he struggled with overlapping memories. This place was a nightmare he couldn’t escape. Yet, some of his best days were here. He held up his hand, reaching out to the resentful energy. He blinked in surprise as the Burial Ground seemed to recognize him. How that was possible, evaded him. Encouraged, he stepped forward, letting his feet follow a once familiar path.

Without Chenqing, he whistled to clear a trail for the Wens to follow. They had to leave the cart behind, but he figured he could retrieve it after training a couple of fierce corpses to do the heavy lifting.

Wen Qing organized the Dafan Wens while he worked. Many of them were not too happy about their new location. He didn’t want to deal with any complaints, so he focused on making a rough, bamboo dizi he would refine later. Besides, Wen Qing had Granny Wen and Uncle Four’s support, and that went a long ways in soothing any doubts. For his part, Wei Ying worked hard to set up a temporary, but strong, barrier and clean enough of the resentful energy for the others to start building homes and clearing the land. It helped to have his previous life memories to fall back on.

The biggest difference, though, was his new core. He didn’t have much time to dwell on the creation of his silver core, but he had his suspicions as to why it came about. Once everything settled, he would have to meet with Qing-jie to flesh out his theories and write them down. For now, he had to focus on the present, and the most pressing problem in this present was Jiang Cheng.

They decided the Burial Ground would not be a good place to attempt any kind of surgery, so they took him to a deserted cabin close to the hills where he was supposed to meet Baoshan Sanren. From there, they left Wen Ning to watch over him and went hunting for their new donor.

By this time, Wen Qing had been gone from the supervisory office for over a week, meaning her absence was noticed. Between that and Wen Ning’s mysterious appearance and disappearance at Lotus Pier coinciding with Jiang Cheng’s escape, they couldn’t just walk back into her post, no questions asked.

While they waited for dark, they observed the Wen soldiers milling about from the roof of one of Yiling’s tallest buildings. When they left, there had been about half a dozen regulars to patrol the town. Now, several dozen cultivators swarmed about.

“Wen Chao is here.”

“Yep,” Wei Ying agreed through clenched teeth, his hatred for the man and his shadow flaring. “And his faithful puppet.” He would not call Wen Zhuliu a dog; he was scared of dogs, not warped cultivators who tortured others without a care.
“You wait here,” he told her as night fell.

She grabbed his arm as he went to leave. “Wuxian.”

He met the concern in her eyes with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I may hate them with a burning volcano of revulsion, but I have lost the desire to make them suffer.” He paused and tilted his head. “Well, maybe they’ll suffer just a little. After all, it is resentful energy… and I really don’t like them.”

Wen Qing shoved his shoulder. “Go on. And be careful. I don’t want to put you back together again for a few more weeks.”

He lifted three fingers as a gesture of promise before slipping into the shadows.

The battle barely lasted a moment. With his new core, the resentful energy and the dead followed his instructions almost before his thoughts formed into notes. It was like working with the seal but with better control. There was no question he was the master. The voices that used to plague him, whispering their demands and sorrows every moment, were a soft buzz that dissipated in the warmth of his core.

Before anyone could respond, or send a signal for help, the dead moved in and added the Wen soldiers to their numbers. Soon, only Wen Chao, Wen Zhuliu, and Wang Lingjiao were left, backed into a corner in the supervisory office.

Wen Qing joined him as he stood before the pathetic trio. Off to one side, his ghost lady in red waited, her fire-eyes staring at them with hunger.

“Wei Wuxian, you will die for this!”

He traded an annoyed expression with Qing-jie. “He’s a dead man standing and still thinks he’s winning.”

“Sad,” she responded with a nod.

The fury spurting out of Wen Chao made his face burning red and his eyes widen in outrage. “You traitor. Father should have destroyed you and your pathetic brother a long time ago!”

 “It is you and your family who have betrayed everything the Wen ancestors stand for. Wen Mao would be so ashamed of all of you,” she spat back, glowering at him with her needles ready in her fingers.

“How dare you speak to him like that!” Wang Lingjiao yelled, waving her Wen brand in a threatening manner.

The red lady swooped in before she could say anything more, slitting her throat with a single swipe of her deadly red nails. Wen Chao squealed as blood splattered on his clothes. She slumped to the floor like a puppet without strings.

Wen Zhuliu leaped forward, hand extended and glowing. Wei Ying whipped forward a stream of resentful energy which plunged into his body and pulled out his golden core. Shock made the man go pale as the glow faded from his hand. He fell to his knees, groaning and gasping while he registered what had happened.

Wei Ying stood before him. “You destroyed innocent lives because you felt you owed Wen Rouhan. Why did others have to pay your debt?”

The Wen met his gaze, resignation on his face. He said nothing as the red lady sliced his throat so deeply, his head fell back, barely attached to the body by a bit of flesh.

With a nod and a grim smile, Wei Ying dismissed his ghost assassin. She whirled away in an instant, throwing him a kiss as she disappeared.

Qing-jie raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? That was holding back?”

“Yep. The last time I tortured them for weeks before killing them. I drove them mad and made him eat his own flesh,” he told her with a shrug. “Hey, I had just crawled out of the Burial Ground after three months; he was lucky I was so kind,” he added when she shook her head.

“We are not doing that this time,” she said, tapping the side of her needles against her arm. “Though, I can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.”

He threw his head back and laughed.

She slapped his arm. “Oh, be quiet.”

“Wen Qing, Wen Qing,” Wen Chao called, his voice pleading as he cowered on his knees. “Whatever you want, I will give you. I will make sure Father claims you as our own sister.”

“Ugh.” She snorted at him and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be your cousin, let alone your sister.”

Wei Ying tugged at her sleeve. “Hey, he doesn’t have a very strong core, does he?”

The sister of his heart met his gaze and smiled. “No, he doesn’t. In fact, he might just be perfect.”

They turned back to their captive, and he backed up as far as he could go, whimpering in fear.

Wei Ying trussed Wen Chao up in resentful energy and had two corpse guards drag him out of the office. After, he directed the dead to pile into the building before setting it on fire. As it burned, he played Rest, wishing Lan Zhan was there to help him. Still, the notes flew out in a silver stream, swirling through the flames, sending the souls off in peace.

After, they left the burning compound and headed back to the cabin where they left Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning. Wen Chao stumbled along behind them in the firm grip of the fierce corpses. The second son of Wen Rouhan alternated between spitting out threats and insults to pleading for mercy and promising anything for his freedom.

Wen Qing and Wei Ying walked along in silence, ignoring the despicable man’s rambling. Both kept their thoughts on their next course of action, the transfer of his core to the Jiang sect leader.

“So, you can pull a core out of a body with resentful energy,” she said as the cabin came in sight. A lone lantern shone through the small window on the side.

“Yeah. I did it the first time to make Wen Zhiliu know what it felt like. I never did it again after that. It brings back too many difficult memories.”

Her expression turned speculative. “But you can do it without crushing the core?”

“Yeah?” he said, confused at first before he realized what she wanted. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, that would be much easier and faster, wouldn’t it?”

“Undeniably,” she responded in a dry tone.

He grinned at her. “You are the best! You have the finest ideas.”

“Mark your words. I’ll remind you of that the next time you refuse to listen to me.”

When they entered the cabin, Wen Ning gaped, with wide eyes, at Wen Chao and the corpse guards.

“JieJie?” The poor boy wrung his hands together.

“It’s all right, a-Ning. He can’t hurt anyone. How’s our patient?” she said as she moved to check Jiang Cheng, who lay on a rickety cot.

“S-stable,” he answered, his eyes glued on Wen Chao.

“Wen Ning! Help me, and I will make you my true brother!” the scum offered, dropping to his knees under the power of his resentful ropes.

“Can we get this over with?” Wei Ying asked, rubbing his forehead. “His voice is grating, and I’m getting a headache.”

Wen Qing tossed him a sarcastic look of ‘poor boy’, but she pulled out her supplies and began to prepare Jiang Cheng for the transfer.

Wei Ying watched from the side, strangely detached from the scene. This time, he wasn’t lying on the ground, held down by ropes and Wen Ning as she laboured to cut his core free meridian by meridian. The beating of his heart hit hard in his chest as one of his worst memories made his hands shake.

“I’ll make t-tea,” Wen Ning offered with a concerned glance to him.

Tea, yes, that would be good. Wine would be better, but that would have to come later. Right now, he had to shove everything into that little box inside him where all the horrors of his life from both timelines hid.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he said to Wen Qing, keeping his former brother’s limp form from his eye-line.

“Soon,” she responded as she worked. “Do you have to do anything to prepare?”

“Nope!” he said, popping the p as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “I don’t know how long the core will stay together after I remove it, though.”

“We’ll work fast. If it’s anything like when I removed yours, we’ll only have moments before it starts to dissipate, and yours was strong. His isn’t much more developed than most average cultivators. He’ll be able to use a sword and fly, but Zidain will be weaker and harder to control.”

Her words brought up feelings of guilt. “At least, he’ll have a core,” he said in a small voice.

“And you will have yours, as it should be,” she responded firmly. “It’s more than he deserves, in my opinion. Or do I have to remind you of everything he has ever done with his cultivation in his jealousy and anger?”

Wei Ying shook his head, letting the warmth of his core run through him. No. He had worked and suffered to cultivate this core. The Jiangs may have taught him how to develop it, but he built it himself. He thought of his past life and all he gave up. An image of a future with Lan Zhan and a-Yuan made his heart thump.

The whining form of Wen Chao jerked as he tried to break his bonds. His face flushed in rage. “You can’t do this! My father will chop you into pieces. You will beg for your lives and your future lives before he is done with you! You will rot in our dungeons where he will torture you until you are nothing but bits of meat for our dogs!”

Wei Ying winced at the mention of dogs. “Are you ready? I’m not sure how much more of his rambling I can take.”

“Yes,” she said, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. “I’m ready.” She held out her hands, the blood of Jiang Cheng staining her skin. “As soon as you remove it, pass it to me, and I’ll place it inside him.”

He nodded and took a settling breath before whipping out a sliver of energy and piercing Wen Chao’s abdomen. The resentful energy held him tight, though he screamed and tried to get free. In a second, the small, golden ball emerged from the pitiful man’s body. Wei Ying directed it to Wen Qing, who took it carefully in her hands and placed it in Jiang Cheng.

“Is it working?” Wei Ying asked, anxiously bouncing on his toes. He ignored Wen Chao, who had crumpled to the floor in a whining, crying mess after the resentful energy released him.

“Patience,” she ordered, her back to him as she worked.

Wen Ning handed Wei Ying a cup of tea, his discomfort clear on his face.

“I’m sorry, a-Ning,” Wei Ying said softly. “I know all of this is hard to witness.”

“It is, M-master Wei, but I have s-seen Wen Chao and Wen Rouhan d-do worse.” He tilted his head to the side, his expression drooping. “Though, I s-suppose t-that is unfilial.”

He clapped the brother of his heart on the shoulder and gave a small squeeze. “We’re family, a-Ning. I’m not your master. Call me Xian-ge.”

“Done,” Qing-jie said, turning to them as she wiped her hands. “It seems to be working. I had to manipulate the meridians a little more to accept the core, but the connection is solid now. He’ll have to heal and take it easy for a few more days, though. I’ll release him from the induced coma. He should wake in the morning.”

She took a cup of tea from her brother and drank it before nodding toward the lump that was Wen Chao. “What do we do with him, now?”

“Would it be sadistic of me to want to throw him in one of the darkest parts of the Burial Ground?”

“Would he come back as a fierce ghost to bother us?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“No. There is no escaping some of those places. The ghosts there are more demons and monsters than anything, they are so old. They would never let him go, even after death.”

She sat on a stool, fatigue clear in her slumped shoulders. “Eh, Why not? It sounds appropriate.”

He summoned the red lady. “Take him to the pit,” he ordered, and a delighted, wicked grin spread across her white face.

She seized Wen Chao, her nails sinking into his shoulders. He wailed but didn’t fight her, his expression a pitiful mess of tears, snot, and saliva. Wen Ning closed the door after they left, and they sat without speaking until the horrible Wen’s cries faded.

“Alcohol would be good, right now.”

Wei Ying chuckled. “Yeah. It’s been a long day. Are you two staying here tonight?”

“No. As much as I would like to sleep where I’m sitting, I don’t want to be here when he wakes. Besides, we should get back to the camp and make sure everyone is okay.”

“All right. I’m going to stay with Jiang Cheng and head to the Unclean Realm once he’s ready to go.” He stared at his former shidi. His colour had already started to improve. A bitter stone of fear melted in him. They did it. Jiang Cheng had a core, and so did he.

“I never want to do that again,” Qing-jie muttered as she collected her things and prepared to leave.

“Me either,” he told her with a soft grin.

“S-same here,” a-Ning added with sincere eyes.

Wei Ying laughed, the tension leaving his body. He sagged to the floor, his legs spread out in front of him. “Oh, I hope this is the last time I have to live this life.”

“I think we can all agree on that point,” she said, heading to the door. “You be careful, okay? I expect visits when you can.”

He held out a couple of talismans for her. “Here. They’ll allow us to contact each other without anyone else intercepting any messages.”

Wen Ning took them from him. “Like the J-Jin b-butterflies?”

“Sort of. These turn into finches. More dynamic.”

They nodded and left. The cabin fell silent except for the breathing of Jiang Cheng. Wei Ying closed his eyes, fatigue overwhelming his desire for a soft bed. He propped his head on his arms and fell asleep.

Wei Ying jerked awake, another nightmare making him gasp. He blinked at the soft sunlight filtering through the one window. The lantern left on the table near the window still flickered. He should have blown that out last night. The last thing they needed was to die from carelessly setting the place on fire.

Groaning from his night on the floor, he got to his feet and poked at the embers burning in the fireplace. He threw on a couple of branches Wen Ning had left for them. After, he filled the kettle with some water in a clay urn and hung it over the flames to boil for tea. His dear a-Ning had left them a pouch of tea leaves and some dry buns and fruit for breakfast.

While he waited for the water, he took out a scrap piece of paper from his sleeve and used a partially burnt stick for a writing utensil. In his best attempt at Lan Zhan’s handwriting, he wrote:

You lied. You are not Wei Ying. I have given you a core, but require compensation for your deception. Therefore, I, Baoshan Sanren, Immortal cultivator, remove Wei Ying, curtesy Wei Wuxian – son of my martial daughter, Cangse Sanren – from the YunmengJiang sect as payment for the golden core I have given despite the duplicity of Jiang Cheng, curtesy Jiang Wanyin – leader of said Jiang sect. If this declaration is ignored by either the Jiang sect, their leader, or Wei Wuxian, I shall declare Sect Leader Jiang as undeserving of the gift given in this second core and take it back. You, Jiang Cheng, curtesy Jiang Wanyin, have been warned.

Baoshan Sanren

Once he finished, he re-read it a few times. Maybe it was too much. Maybe Jiang Cheng wouldn’t believe it. Would he have to follow through on the threat? He could, in seconds, but would he?

He took a moment to watch his ex-shidi starting to stir from his long sleep. Wei Ying sighed and looked at the note once more. Well, why not?

Quickly, he took out another piece of paper and the last bit of cinnabar he had before re-copying the note. After, he burnt the initial copy and placed the new one on the table. He pulled the stool over by the bed and waited.

A few minutes later, Jiang Cheng opened his eyes, his brows drawn in confusion.

“Wei Wuxian?” He tried to sit up, but Wei Ying stopped him.

“Take it easy. How do you feel?”

The new sect leader paused, closing his eyes.

Wei Ying took the kettle from the fire and made the tea while his ex-shidi checked his body.

“Here,” he said, holding out a cup.

“What the hell?” Jiang Cheng snapped, slapping the cup out of his hand.

The hot tea sprayed across the blanket. Jiang Cheng tossed the wet cover aside and jumped to his feet.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asked, feigning innocence. He backed away to the shadows to keep the other man from reading anything in his expression.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” he shouted, his face growing dark in anger. “This core. It’s barely there. What am I supposed to do with this? I can’t fight a war with this?” He threw out a litany of profanity and kicked the bed, breaking the wooden leg.

“Is it that weak?” Wei Ying kept his voice level, though with a touch of concern.

His ex-shidi swore at him. “Your immortal cheated me.”

“I wouldn’t say that where she could hear you,” he replied, getting irritated with Jiang Cheng’s tantrum. He had a core. Yes, it was weak, but it was better than nothing. “It’s a golden core, Jiang Cheng. That’s more than you had before. This is a second chance. With a little time and effort you can make it stronger.”

The bitter man laughed harshly. “Easy for you to say. You have a strong core. You’ve always had a strong core, and now I have to struggle to build myself up from behind you again. I get to watch you gain all the glory again while I sit on the sidelines with a core barely better than a child’s. How am I supposed to rebuild Lotus Pier with this?”

Wei Ying ran a hand across his face, Madame Yu’s words mixing with Jiang Cheng’s jealous tirades in his head. All they did was tear him down and blame him for their failings. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. He handed Jiang Cheng the note.

“I’m afraid it gets worse.”

His ex-shidi tore the paper from his hand, his scowl growing as he read the words. “How dare she?” he exclaimed, glaring at the note.

“Jiang Cheng, she’s an immortal. We have no choice but to do as she has demanded.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he sneered. “To leave the sect and get away from me. Well, you owe me, Wei Wuxian. You owe me for the death of my parents, for the ruin of Lotus Pier, and for the loss of my original core! If you think some hermit on a hidden mountain is going to keep me from extracting that payment, you’re wrong.”

“Jiang Wanyin!” he shouted back. “The Wen planned to attack Lotus Pier no matte what. Your parents had weeks to prepare, but they didn’t believe Wen Rouhan would dare despite the attacks on Cloud Recesses and the Unclean Realm. I took more than a dozen strikes to satisfy that Wang shrew. I was even willing to lose my hand. I did everything I could to get you to safety despite my own pain. What more do you want from me?”

“I want your loyalty. I want you to fulfill your promise to me and be my subordinate, my servant for life.” He jabbed his fist against his lower dantian. “This is your doing. I lost my core because of you. You owe me everything!”

Wei Ying stared at him, stunned by the vicious attack. He tried to write it off as a response to all the loss and pain of the last few weeks, but then he remembered Jiang Cheng’s hands around his throat, ready to kill him in revenge for the loss of Lotus Pier.

“What do you mean, you lost your core because of me?” He said, his voice low.

Jiang Cheng stepped up to him and pressed a finger against Wei Ying’s chest. “Who do you think saved your ass when the Wen dogs surrounded you at the market?”

Distraught, Wei Ying closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head at his ex-shidi. “You fool. Why? You were safe.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “That’s right. I was a fool. I wanted to save you, and what did I get for it? A poor core and a broken promise.”

Wei Ying sunk down on the stool, his heart tearing in pieces. This was such a mess. Both timelines were a disaster of secrets and broken promises. Guilt saturated him and weakened his resolve to break from Jiang Cheng’s bitter jealousy. Slowly, he realized the lie in his ex-shidi’s reason for getting caught and he chuckled.

“No. You didn’t lose your core because of me. That’s not something you would risk for anyone. If you did, you wouldn’t have been so crushed when you were rescued. You would have been happy your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. No. You either didn’t think you would be caught, or you didn’t think Wen Chao would dare take it from you. Even after you knew they had destroyed the cores of your parents, you believed your position, your lineage would protect you. Your pride lost you your core.”

With a yell, Jiang Cheng lunged at him. Wei Ying moved to the side, avoiding him with ease. He tried again, his anger making him reckless as it always did. Wei Ying stepped around him and pinned him against the wall. He pressed against him, his mouth near his ear as he spoke.

“What’s the matter, Jiang Cheng, too close to the truth? It’s easy to blame me for everything, isn’t it? After all, from the beginning, I promised to take the blame for anything you did while you promised to protect me from dogs. Yet, you liked to threaten me with dogs when I did better than you. It doesn’t seem quite equal, does it? I take your blame, your punishments, and you chase away a few dogs.

Nothing between you and I has ever been right. My parents were better than yours, but mine were worthless. My cultivation has always been better than yours, but I am nothing but a servant. People liked me, listened to me, befriended me while you pushed them away with your anger, and that was my fault too. How dare I show you up? And I did everything I could to make up for that.”

“Bullshit! We gave you everything. You would have died in the gutter if we didn’t take you in. You should have died there!”

Wei Ying let him go and stepped away. “You say you sacrificed your core for me. Well, I got you a core back. It’s up to you to appreciate it and make it grow or not. You say my leaving is breaking my promise to you, yet you were willing to strangle me to death to satisfy your anger. You never took a moment to consider I was grieving too. After all, you have never stepped outside of yourself long enough to realize you are not the only one dealing with loss.

I promised to stay with you, but you never promised anything back. He shook his head. “No protection, no support, nothing. It’s up to me to make it all right. It’s always been up to me to make it all right. Well, this time you’re going to have to make it all right by yourself. I will help you get to the Unclean Realm. After that, I will honour the declaration of Baoshan Sanren and allow you to keep your core. It is the most I can do to support you and your clan, Sect Leader Jiang.”

He bowed just low enough to imply respect. “By the way, I killed Wen Chao, Wen Zhiliu, and that woman in revenge for your parents and those we lost.”

Jiang Cheng straightened himself and refused to look Wei Ying’s way. “Fine. Let’ go. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can get away from you.”

Wei Ying picked up the paper he dropped and put it in his sleeve. The poison between them had been festering ever since Madame Yu put it there. He refused to believe it in the last timeline. He needed their love in whatever form they gave it.

Yet, his time with the Wen Remnants had taught him what unconditional love looked like, felt like.

Jiang Cheng would always choose to believe the poison shouted or whispered by others instead of trusting him and their relationship. Wei Ying called him brother while Jiang Chang called him di-shixiong. Wei Ying stood by him even when Jiang Chang exclaimed, “Traitor!”

As much as it hurt both of them, this break was for the best. Sect Leader Jiang would never forgive him, but Wei Ying couldn’t take responsibility for his bitterness and jealousy any longer.

Chapter Text

For the next two days, they travelled through the lower part of Yiling and skirted around the Burial Ground. As much as Wei Ying wanted to go visit his family, it was best to feign innocence about the existence of the little village growing there.

They travelled at night, using the shadows to keep safe. When the morning started to arrive, they searched for a good place to hide, keeping to the woods or any rocky ravine that offered cover. Often, Wei Ying went out to find some food and clean water and pick up any tidbits of news he could.

Jiang Cheng stayed hidden, retreating in sleep while Wei Ying covered him in decaying vegetation to help camouflage his form. This meant he would be able to keep watch while Wei Ying snatched a couple of hours of rest when he returned.

On the second night, Wei Ying found an abandoned farmhouse which showed signs of fire damage. What remained of the roof and walls were covered in slashes of char where the wood survived the flames. He rooted through the rubble for anything that would help them.

As he shoved aside the broken door to a rickety wardrobe, he fell back as a flurry of feathers flew into his face. Moving quickly, he grabbed the chicken and dispatched the bird. The poor thing was scrawny but better than nothing. He stuffed it in a rough sack and continued his search.

It wouldn’t be smart to stay too long, since he had no idea when the Wen army had come through the area. Already, the sun was starting to rise above the tops of the trees surrounding the ruins. So far, he had uncovered a small axe with a broken handle, a couple of fairly sharp knives, and a decent pair of containers he could use for water if he found a well or stream.

When he was ready to leave, he heard the sound of voices drifting in from outside. He crouched down, taking cover behind a partial wall. Careful not to make any noise, he peered over the top. Off in the distance, five Wen soldiers appeared, weaving their way down the dirt path leading to the farm.

He crouched again and debated his options. While he could ignore them and hope they would go away, the Wen cultivators were the enemy. He would have to face them sooner or later. Killing them with one of the knives, might make enough noise to attract any other soldiers in the area. If too many Wen showed up, he would have to resort to demonic cultivation. While he wasn’t afraid of facing them, he preferred the idea of stealth and working from the shadows this time.

Rubbing the side of his nose, he contemplated the possibility of a few fierce corpses. People probably died when the Wen destroyed the place. He tapped Chenqing against his lips. Yes, that would do. With a deep breath, he tapped into his core and sent out a call through his dizi.

The notes floated through the air in a stream of silver like before. A surge of resentful energy nearby answered him. In less than five minutes, two corpses rose from the worst part of the rubble. Half-burned flesh hung from their scorched bones.

Wei Ying grimaced at the spectacle. He never did like the sight of burned bodies. There was something more disturbing than rotting corpses about them – a cloud of agony that other deaths lacked.

The Wen cultivators shouted when they caught sight of the dead owners of the farm lumbering toward them. In response, two in the front drew their swords, spewing something about how much fun it would be to destroy these two over again.

Their attitude made Wei Ying stiffen in disgust. They had no respect for the living or the dead. Cultivators like these were just carrion from his perspective, picking away at the bones of those under them with little regard for anything or anyone.

He reinforced his hold on the corpses and gave them the strength to enact their revenge. After the first two went down from a blurred attack of speed, the others yelped in fear and tried to get away. One or two of them might have made it if it hadn’t been for the added challenge of the carcases of their dead comrades. Blood still dripping from slit throats and gutted stomachs, the dead Wen turned their swords against their own. Once it was over, Wei Ying played rest, letting even the callous soldiers, rest in peace.

After the bodies settled on the ground and their spirits moved on, he strode over and looted the bodies. Normally, he wouldn’t be so disrespectful, but he considered it payment for all they had taken from him and any others who got in their way.

Two of them had decent swords he could use one to  defend them when his alternate path wasn’t possible. He sent a stream of qi into the one he felt would serve him the best. To direct another cultivator’s spiritual sword, wasn’t easy. It required one to overwhelm the spirit in the sword and force ownership. Thus, it was considered improper and dishonest to do so, but this was war, and almost everything was fair game when the enemy had no mercy. The chosen sword fought him for barely a second before submitting to him.

Satisfied, he took possession of their coin purses and poured the funds into one pouch. Grateful for the money, he shoved away any guilt and slipped through the trees to return to Jiang Wanyin.

The Jiang leader was sitting by a small fire by the time he returned. An expression of surprised pleasure flitted across his handsome but harsh face before settling back to his usual scowl.

“You were gone long enough,” he grunted, poking a stick at the ashes.

“I found a burned out farmhouse and ran into a little trouble,” Wei Ying explained as he pulled out the chicken from his sack and started to pluck the feathers.

“A chicken isn’t trouble.”

He couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his lips. It was a statement Wei Ying would have teased Jiang Cheng about in the past. Now, a raging river a mile wide separated them. “No. A chicken is food. The Wen soldiers are trouble,” he responded lightly, trying to keep a civil accord between them.

Jiang Wanyin’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “All Wen-dogs are trouble. They are vermin best exterminated.”

The words bit at Wei Ying, stirring up his irritation. He took a deep breath and eased his anger. It wouldn’t work to fight him on this. He never listened after the war the last time. Why would he listen now, in the first few days of his grief.

“And what about those who helped us? Are they vermin?” he said despite his own advice to let it drop.

Jiang Wanyin refused to answer him. Instead, he kept his attention on the fire, poking at the twigs until he lit the tip of the stick in his hand.

Wei Ying finished plucking the bird and gutted it with one of the knives before skewering it on a branch. He propped it over the fire, making the skin sizzle and pop from the heat. His stomach churned as the cooking meat brought up memories from his first three months in the Burial Ground.

“I’m going to find some water. Make sure the chicken doesn’t burn. It’s all we’ve got right now.”

His former brother grunted as he left. Once he was far enough away, he bent over and lost what little he had in his stomach. Out of all the memories he regained, why did he have to recall the worst ones?

After spitting and wiping his chin, he searched the woods until he found a small stream flowing with clear water. He washed his mouth out and took a long drink before filling the two jars he had scrounged from the farm.

Wei Ying sagged against a nearby tree, his head swimming with thoughts he didn’t want to have. Once he managed to regain some semblance of self-control, he returned to their camp.

“Here,” he said and passed one of the jars to Jiang Wanyin.

The younger boy took a long drink while Wei Ying tended to his cooking. They sat in silence for quite a while, the new sect leader watching the bird fry, and Wei Ying keeping his eyes on everything but the searing meat.

“You really plan on leaving me, don’t you?” Jiang Wanyin said in a quiet voice.

“I won’t be responsible for the loss of your core a second time,” he answered, the other’s pitiful tone tugging at his heart.

“Yeah.” He stabbed his burning stick into the soil. “I should have known not to trust your plans. I always end up suffering somehow when I do.”

“I did the best I could,” Wei Ying responded, the strings pulling his heart snapping. “What else could I do, give you my own core? Would that satisfy you?”

A bitter laugh spilled out of him. “Are you kidding? And have everything I ever achieved be because of you? Every cultivation success would be because I had the strength of your core to help me. Is that my destiny, to live in your shadow all my life?”

“You really need to stop comparing yourself to me,” Wei Ying told him as he took the chicken off the fire.

“How?” he demanded in a choked tone. “How do I do that when my whole life has been linked to you? Every success I have had has dimmed in your light.”

“Well, consider this your chance to step out from your shadows and succeed on your own.” He passed the food over to his former martial brother. “You have a core. It may be weak, but you have the skills to make it stronger.” He stood and stretched. “Eat. You need the food to show the cultivation world Jiangs never give up. I’m going to get some sleep.”

Why he still tried to support Jiang Wanyin, annoyed him. He wanted to be as cold-hearted as others were to him. The problem was, only the Yiling Patriarch side of him knew how to be cruel. The rest of him wanted to explore the world and push himself to invent bigger and better things. He helped people on instinct. Sometimes, he didn’t even realize he was doing it until someone was saying thanks. That always made him shiver. A person who helped on purpose deserved thanks, not someone who did it without thinking.

He never understood Jiang Wanyin’s accusation of a hero complex. The thought of striving to help people to make others think he was a hero confused him. If a person needed something that he could give, wasn’t it his duty to assist them? Wasn’t that the point of leading a cultivator’s life – to ease the burdens of others and keep them safe without the desire for anything more in return.

Yes, it was fun to do something so grand people would whisper your name in respect and awe. But that was all just a game he played to get a reaction. Besides, he learned in his last life that mouths shouting praise one day, easily screamed hatred the next. Fame and success was a fickle illusion that meant nothing in the end.

As dusk created long shadows among the trees, Wei Ying and Jiang Wanyin continued on. Their original goal had been to reach Koi Tower, but too many Wen soldiers travelled that way, spreading themselves across Yunmeng like a rash. The Unclean Realm was just as far, though it brought them awfully close to Qishan territory. Still, it seemed like the better way to go.

They journeyed along in silence, the cool truce between them aided by the need for stealth. Wei Ying thought about sending a message to Wen Qing, just to make sure they were still safe. However, he decided not to risk it in the Jiang leader’s presence. They were fine. They had to be. This time, they had more supplies and more people. Plus, he had done a better job cleaning the land of resentful energy, and building protections no one could penetrate. No, his family was safe for now.

He could send a message to Lan Zhan, but that seemed too forward. After all, what would he say?

Hi, Honey, I’m fine. Making my way to you. Miss you. Do you miss me? I picked up a friend on the way. Well, he’s not a friend but we’re travelling together anyway. By the way, I had a dream where you declared your undying love for me. Do you love me? I always thought you hated me. It’s difficult to imagine you loving me as a friend, let alone in any romantic way. I think I might be in love with you, but I don’t know much about love. What is romantic love supposed to feel like? If you don’t love me, it’s okay. I would be satisfied with being your friend. No. That’s a lie. I can feel it in my soul, but I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my life. So friends is better than strangers. Please, forgive my rambling. I’m trying to distract myself from the hunger and fatigue I’m feeling. Plus, I need a bath. You wouldn’t believe what kind of stench a person can develop while trying to evade an army out to kill them. I’m surprised they can’t smell us coming.

No. He couldn’t send that message. Besides, it was too long.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jiang Wanyin demanded, smacking him on the arm. “You’ve been sighing for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Nothing,” he snapped back. “I’m just tired of trudging through thistles and bushes at night.”

“I think we’re close to Kuizhou. Maybe we can find a place to stay there,” the Jiang leader said, looking like someone dragged him through two pigpens and a field of manure.

“I suppose,” he agreed. “I don’t think anyone is going to recognize us now, not looking like this. All right. Let’s go.”

They entered the town in the early morning, just when the market was opening. The smell of fresh rolls and pancakes made Wei Ying’s mouth water. He exchanged a glance with the younger boy. Despite their current animosity, they were so hungry nothing else mattered. Together, they rushed to the first booth.

“A dozen buns and a dozen pancakes, please,” Wei Ying ordered, offering a friendly smile.

The man behind the booth raked his gaze over them, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Go away. I don’t feed beggars, and your stench is going to make my food turn bad.” He waved a meaty hand toward them in a shooing manner.

Jiang Wanyin opened his mouth to voice his displeasure, but Wei Ying jabbed him in the side with his elbow.

“We’ll go when you serve us.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned against the stall. “We have money,” he added, shaking his purse.

“Huh,” the man snorted with a scowl. “Probably stolen,” he muttered as he wrapped up their order. “Here. Now, pay and get lost before better customers come along.”

Wei Ying tossed him some coins while Jiang Wanyin took the food. They hurried over to an alleyway and used a couple of empty crates as a place to sit. Quickly, they divided the breakfast between them and dug in. Wei Ying devoured his third pancake when he stopped. Eating too much too fast after a period of fasting had made him sick in the past. He wrapped up his portion and put it in his sack.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jiang Wanyin demanded with his mouth full. “I thought you were hungry, or is your core so much greater than mine you don’t need food?”

He gave him an exasperated frown. “No. I just know what happens when you eat too much after starving for a few days.”

“Not my fault you didn’t eat any of the chicken, not that there was enough to share.”

“Having a picnic?” a young voice filled with sarcasm asked.

Wei Ying jumped to his feet, berating himself internally for letting his guard down. The boy at the entrance of the alley had to be only a few years younger than them. Despite his pleasant face, he had the appearance of a bitter gutter rat, someone willing to cause trouble just to burn off some of their hatred for the world. The last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves by brawling in the street.

“I’m willing to share,” he said carefully, removing the pancakes from his bag. He held them out and waited.

A wicked grin crept across the boy’s rosy lips, revealing sharp canine teeth. “You’ll share with me, just like that.”

“He does that,” Jiang Wanyin said with a roll of his eyes. He put the remains of his food away and glared at the youth. “I don’t.”

Their company gave a sharp laugh. “I like you, so honest and blunt,” he said to the Jiang leader. He gestured to Wei Ying. “You, I don’t trust, but I’ll take your food, anyway.” The boy pulled out a knife. “And your purse. After all, you won’t need it anymore.”

Wei Ying tilted his eyebrows up, surprised by the gutter rat’s bold confidence. “Aren’t you a little young to murder people?” he asked, leaning back against the crate behind him. He passed the pancakes to Jiang Wanyin before crossing his arms in front of him.

Another laugh slipped from the boy. He tilted his head to the side and shrugged. “It’s important to start young if you want to master a skill.”

With a sigh, Wei Ying shook his head. The streets were never kind to those who called them home. Some died young while others became the poison civilized people moulded them into. Very few survived retaining some semblance of kindness and humanity. This one could have been a great cultivator if he hadn’t been hardened by day to day survival. He had a sharp intelligence about him that reminded Wei Ying of himself.

“Look, we’re not interested in causing trouble or dying, so why don’t you just take the food and move on?”

“Sorry,” the youth replied, his eyes twinkling in anticipation. “That would be boring. I don’t like boring.”

“There’s two of us, and one of you, kid. Go away and bother someone else.” Jiang Wanyin flicked his fingers at him in a shooing manner.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” the street rat snarled. “You’re no better than me. Don’t treat me like your servant.”

That sent Jiang Wanyin over the edge. He tossed the pancakes aside. They splatted on the muddy ground, breaking into mushy pieces.

The Jiang leader stood, puffing out his chest in a haughty manner his ragged clothing contradicted. “I’m no better than you. I’m better than a thousand of you, kid. You’re nothing but a pathetic creature crawling in the gutter. I’m sick of gutter trash thinking they have a right to tell me what to do. I’m exhausted of garbage like you putting on airs as though you have a right to be so arrogant.” He stalked toward the boy, his own eyes glinting with hatred.

“Jiang Wanyin, stop,” Wei Ying said, trying to pull him back. “Let’s just go.”

“Go?” he snarled, taking out his own knife. “Go where? Home? We don’t have one anymore, remember? And why don’t we have a home? Because of rubbish like you,” he pointed the knife toward Wei Ying before moving it to the boy, “because of a wasted nothing like him.”

Wei Ying stepped between them, trying to keep an eye on both of them. “Ignore him, kid. It’s me, he’s talking about, not you.”

“Get, the fuck, out of the way,” Jiang Wanyin barked, shoving him aside.

He lunged at the boy, who dodged out of the way. Wei Ying tried to interfere only to have the youth use him as a shield. Desperate to make them stop without calling attention to their presence, Wei Ying punched him, knocking him back on his ass. At the same time, the damn boy jumped on his back, trying to slit his throat with the knife. He twisted his wrist, making him drop his weapon as he flipped the kid over his shoulder. Jiang Wanyin scrambled from his spot and thrust his blade upward, plunging it deep into the street rat’s back.

The youth’s eyes went wide as he coughed up blood. Jiang Wanyin thrust the blade two more times before Wei Ying could shove him back.

“Damn it, Jiang Cheng, what the hells is the matter with you? Do you hate me so much that you have to take it out on a child?” He knelt before the boy, assessing his wounds and sending some spiritual energy to help him heal.

The boy cackled wildly as he pulled away, blood seeping from his lips. “He’s killed me because he hates you. That’s hilarious.” His laughter turned into a wet cough, causing a stream of frothy, red liquid to pour from his mouth. “Now, I hate you too! Should I come back and haunt you?” His breath came in wheezes as he struggled to keep speaking. “How much better it will be to be a resentful corpse. I can’t wait…” The words faltered as he went limp, his narrow frame falling into the mud and ruined food.

“Well done, Sect Leader Jiang. You killed a boy from the gutter. Do you feel better now? Or will you only be satisfied when you can plunge a blade into my heart?”

“Fuck you,” he spat, hauling himself up from the ground. He staggered as he rubbed his jaw. “That piece of trash deserved it. He wasn’t going to let us go without a fight. He wanted what is ours and was willing to kill for it. This time, I killed him first. No one is taking what is mine ever again.”

Wei Ying let it go. Instead, he focused on the boy. The stillness of the body made him look younger, more innocent. He had to be no more than fourteen, a child starved and wounded by the life he led. If someone good had found him before the bitterness set in, he might have been kinder, happier. Now, the if’s didn’t matter. Whatever future he might have had, the string of his life was cut, leaving nothing but a resentment-soaked shell behind.

He took off his outer robe and wrapped the body up.

“What are you doing that for?” Jiang Wanyin demanded. “Just leave him. Someone will get rid of the body.”

Ignoring him, Wei Ying picked up the corpse and carried it down the alley, away from the market. He paused by an abandoned cart and placed the youth inside before pulling the wagon onto the street and away from the town.

Jiang Wanyin followed him, grumbling with every step. “This is ridiculous. We’re on the run from the whole Wen army, and you are worried about the corpse of a worthless nobody. This is just like you, sacrificing your rescuers for someone who hates you. You did the same thing in the cave with the Tortoise of Slaughter. You saved Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji, two people who despise you, and brought the Wen down on Lotus Pier in return.”

“Just who is my rescuer this time? You?” He snorted a bitter laugh. “I didn’t need rescuing, neither now, nor when you were caught by the Wen. You can’t keep using me as an excuse for your behaviour.”

They stopped in a clearing a fair ways away from the town. Wei Ying took out a fire talisman and lit the cart on fire. As it burned, he pulled out his flute and played until the boy’s residual resentment dissipated and his soul took its rest. May your next life be better, he thought as the music healed the child’s broken spirit. The notes faded as the flames burned away what remained of a life cut short. With a charred stick, he created a containment array to keep the fire from spreading to the forest.

“Let’s go,” he said without looking at his former martial brother. “We’ll have to try for a more comfortable bed and a bath in the next town.”

For the next week, they followed the valley between the mountains of Qishan and Qinghe. Despite the desire for a moment of physical comfort, they kept moving. Wen soldiers used the easiest roads and filled each settlement they came across. After the rolls Wei Ying had saved were gone, they made do with the odd fish and fruit from wild trees.

When they came across a patrol they could handle, they spared no time taking them out, hiding the bodies where they could. Wei Ying never left until he had sent their souls on, even though this irritated Jiang Wanyin to no end.

He didn’t care. The last thing he wanted to do was create another Burial Ground or give Wen Rouhan the chance to create more puppets.

However, as much as he wanted to respect the dead this time around, he took whatever supplies would help them survive. The Jiang leader didn’t complain until Wei Ying took a couple of Wen robes.

“I am not wearing that!” he yelled, his face going several shades of purple. “I would rather die than dress up like a Wen!”

Wei Ying grabbed him by his collar and shook him. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Shijie. She misses you. You’re all she has. Get over your damn pride and put this on before I put it on for you.”

“Fuck you,” he spat but donned the offending robe.

“Yeah, yeah. Think of something new to say. That’s getting boring,” Wei Ying said as he tied a Wen belt around his waist. He studied the clouds gathering above them. “You’ll be glad of the extra layer when the rain hits.”

“Gods, I can’t wait to get away from you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Wei Ying responded, rummaging through the Wen packs for rations.

“Here.” He handed the pouting Jiang some dried meats and some hard bread.

Their haul wasn’t too bad. They had enough food to keep them going for a few more days; plus, several bamboo containers of water.

Qishan was rough country and Qinghe wasn’t much better. The weaving roads and paths made their travels slow, as did the steep inclines. Every step brought them closer to their destination, but also made their feet and legs ache. Wei Ying soothed his body with his core, but he longed to find a donkey to ride. He always wanted a donkey. Flying was all very well and fine. However, the idea of wandering the world with a donkey on one side and a cultivation partner on the other, gave him a special thrill.

Lan Zhan. Why did he have to think of him again? In his last life, the fuddy duddy had spent three months searching for him. Was he looking for him now? Would he be in Qinghe? The thought of seeing his beautiful, stone face sent a strange ache through his chest.

“What are you smiling about?” Jiang Wanyin demanded, his voice drenched in irritation. “Why do you always have to smile? You get a beating, you smile. You kneel in the ancestral hall for a day, you smile. No matter what happens you’ve got a stupid grin on your face like the world is perfect. I’m sick of it! The world isn’t perfect! It’s broken and ugly, and I hate it!”

Frustrated, Wei Ying’s lips turned down at the corners. “You scowl through life, I smile. We handle the imperfections in our own ways. Deal with it.”

“Of course,” he laughed harshly. “You do what you want, and everyone else has to deal with it.”

“Yes, yes. I’m selfish and self-centered. I only think of myself while I run around pretending to be a hero to get attention. My existence is a burden you have had to deal with since I first arrived at Lotus Pier. I’ve been listening to you grumble and complain since we left Yiling. All you’re doing is parroting your mother. If you can’t say anything new, shut up.”

“You bastard,” he hissed, springing at him.

Wei Ying twisted and let the Jiang leader slam into the rocky ground. “When are you going to learn that move never works?” He shook his head and moved on, using his core to quiet his steps on the gravely path.

A streak of purple light shot past him, sparking off a boulder a few feet away. “You’re getting better,” he said without turning around. “That one might have hit me if I were wider.”

The other man growled and the whip flashed again. A yelp and grunt came from behind Wei Ying. He exhaled wearily, knowing how much that weapon hurt.

“Don’t try so hard. You’re overthinking. Meditate while we walk and take the time to acquaint yourself with the altered flow of energy in you. Once you’ve reconnected with your core, you’ll be able to use the whip as an extension of your spiritual energy.”

“What do you know?” Jiang Wanyin spat, catching up to him.

The familiar smell of seared flesh made Wei Ying glance over. A red and purple, feathered wound ran down the side of the Jiang’s neck. Yeah, that would hurt.

“You’re lucky you don’t have much power behind you yet. Otherwise, you might have a more severe slice down your throat. Wouldn’t it be a shame if you couldn’t speak until it healed?”

His former shidi shoved a fist close to his face. “Once this war is all over, you and I are going to face each other in combat. No matter what anyone else says, we’re going to finish this between us. And when we do, you’ll wish you had died at the hands of Wen Chao.”

Wei Ying clicked his tongue against his teeth as the furious Jiang stormed on ahead. He wasn’t meditating. At this rate, he would be lucky if he didn’t destroy the new core with his vitriol. Well, if he did, that was his problem. Wei Ying had his own cultivating to do.

The silver core reacted somewhat differently than a golden core. It was more precise, more creative, comparable to a fine sculptor carving a delicate flower in a piece of jade. The silver flow reacted to his direction with the eagerness of an expectant child. It was friendly, too, in an odd way – curling through him like it was a part of him but not. All other energies around him responded to it, not always in a good way, but more like a wary crowd reacts to the presence of a wealthy person. The potential both excited and terrified him, much like the Tiger Seal did – only this time, the power was inside him.

Well, it was his own fault. Whatever possessed him to use the Yin sword to retrieve the memories of his future self, he didn’t know. Jiang Cheng and Madame Yu weren’t wrong when they said he was trouble. It frustrated him that his brain sometimes got ahead of him. If he could slow down before acting, he might have had a very different first life.

That thought was sobering.

But life was so fascinating. Some of his best inventions came out of the ashes of a hurried experiment. And each mistake taught him so much. Still, it would be nice to have enough self-control to stop blowing things up as often.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and gave his attention over to his surroundings. This wasn’t the best place to let his mind wander, especially since Jiang Wanyin seemed more intent on stomping his way to Qinghe than using any form of stealth.

Just like Wei Ying got caught up in limitless possibilities at times, his former shidi often sank into episodes of unreasonable anger which hampered his ability to think clearly. He learned early in their relationship that Jiang Cheng did better after his rage flared and dissipated. When that rage fixated internally, Wei Ying offered himself as a better target. After, when Jiang Cheng was in control of his temper, he was a force of focused energy. That’s when his old core shone. That’s when he grew in strength and cultivation. Unfortunately, the instability of his negative emotions often got in his way.

Like now, Wei Ying thought as an arrow streaked down and caught Jiang Wanyin in the shoulder. As he cried out and went down, Wei Ying swooped in and pulled him behind the shelter of some trees.

While his ex-brother snarled a stream of swears, Wei Ying scanned the horizon for their enemy.

“You gonna live?” he asked without turning his attention from his task.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I don’t want you to die, Jiang Cheng. I wouldn’t be dragging your ass all this way if I wanted you dead.”

A shadow shifted just above the ridge of rock across from them. “There,” Wei Ying whispered, pointing. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, go on, hero.”

Wei Ying ignored the snide remark and crept away. He moved quickly and quietly, weaving his way around their enemy. It didn’t take him long to find the small group of Wen cultivators. This close to Qinghe, they had to be scouts.

His spirit fell as he studied them. They were young, maybe his age. Why did the cultivation world have to wage war at the expense of their children?

“Hey,” he called out, making them jump and swirl around to face him. “Why are you firing at us?” He pulled at his Wen uniform. “We’re on the same side!”

“You aren’t!” the one with the bow declared, puffing out his chest.

He had to admire the kid’s bravado. “How do you know?” he demanded, placing his weight on his back leg and scowling at them. “You’re not old enough to recognize your own feet.”

“Your robes aren’t tied right,” another one informed him with a smirk.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes. Of course they would notice that. How was he supposed to know they had a special way of tying their robes? “That doesn’t mean anything. Just because you tie yours one way doesn’t mean I can’t tie mine another. Maybe I like tying them this way. Did you ever consider that?”

The boys traded confused looks. “T-that’s ridiculous,” the first one said, shifting uncomfortably. He raised his bow and pulled out an arrow. The others followed suit.

Groaning internally, Wei Ying refrained from running a hand over his face in frustration. They were barely old enough to have had their cores for more than a couple of years. He didn’t want to kill them, not kids. With a sweep of his hand, he lashed out a line of silver energy, shattering their weapons.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt any of you, okay?” He held up his hands as they backed away from him, their eyes wide in fear. There weren’t enough swear words in his vocabulary to cover this situation. He’d have to ask Jiang Cheng for some more.

“Okay, let’s all stay calm.” He put on his friendliest smile and sent out a whisp of silver energy. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna seal your cores,” he worked as he spoke, “and then we’ll all walk out of here alive. How does that sound? Hmmm? No one dies, and we all get to see our next birthdays. Isn’t that a good idea? Just think, you get to grow older, fall in love, eat good food, learn to hold your liquor. Wouldn’t that be fantastic?”

A couple of the boys wavered, their lips trembling as though they wanted to cry.

“Aww, see?” he said. “You boys don’t want to die, not for someone else’s greed. After all, what will you get out of this war?”

“Glory for our clan!” the first boy responded, though thick eyebrows drew together in doubt.

Wei Ying had to laugh at that. “What good is the glory of your clan when you’re dead? How does the glory of your clan, which is a lie by the way, feed your family?”

The smallest boy of the bunch wrung his hands together. “What do you mean, it’s a lie?”

“The only one who gets any glory at the end of a war is the leader of the winning side. Everyone else may get a moment of fame, but it doesn’t last. As soon as you aren’t useful anymore to those in power, your time is done. Trust me. I’ve been there.”

The poor group of juniors nudged each other as they debated whether or not to believe him. “All right,” the first boy said, his eyes narrowing. “But if you are tricking us…”

“I know, I know. You’ll break my legs or kill me,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Whatever. Lose your outer Wen robes.”

“Why?” the youngest asked as they obeyed him.

He ruffled the kid’s hair. “So you look like a bunch of peasants. Why else? Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Jiang Cheng did when Wei Ying strode up with his group of ragged boys behind him, was start swearing. He staggered to his feet, Zidian sparking. 

Disappointed but not surprised, Wei Ying just sighed at him. “Okay, my scraggly orphans…”

“I’m not an orphan!” one of the boys said and got kicked by one of the others. “I have a stupid brother,” he adjusted with a glare to the one who hit him.

Wei Ying groaned internally. All he asked was that they say they were a bunch of orphans who joined together to survive. It was simple subterfuge. 

Fortunately, the head boy stepped forward and bowed to Jiang Cheng. “This one is the one who shot you. This one apologies for mistaking you for a deer. Hunger interfered with my vision.”

That was perfect. Wei Ying hid a proud smile behind a laugh and went over to his former shidi. “Calm down. They’re just kids looking for a meal.” He poked at the other’s wound. “It couldn’t have gone very deep if you pulled the arrow out yourself.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jiang Cheng barked, slapping Wei Ying’s hand. “Pathetic kid can’t even tell a person from an animal.” 

“Some people are animals. Some animals are people. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell which is worse,” Wei Ying replied with a wink to the boys. 

They shifted and nudged each other, the youngest giggling. Whether or not they understood what he implied, didn’t matter. He liked having them around. 

The Jiang leader threw them a dark glare. “They aren’t coming with us.”

“They might not be coming with you, but they are coming with me,” he retorted with a tight grin. “Boys, this is Lei Fan. Lei Fan, this is Caiyong, Kaifeng, Caizhang, Xiaotong, and Meilin.” He pointed to each boy in turn. “Now that everyone has met, let’s go.”

“Lei Fan?” Jiang Cheng snarled, stomping beside Wei Ying as the boys went ahead of them. “What the fuck?”

“I can’t exactly call you Jiang, can I? We are still being hunted by Wen Ruohan’s minions. Even if these boys are trustworthy, they might slip up somewhere and that gets to a guard and so on, until you’re hanging by your wrists in the Wen dungeon,” Wei Ying told him, taking too much delight in the picture he had painted.  

“So are you a cultivator too?” the smallest boy - Melin - asked, tugging on Jiang Cheng’s sleeve. 

The little sprite had to be twelve at most. What he was doing in Wen Ruohan’s army, Wei Ying couldn’t fathom. He’d have to wait until later to ask, though. If his bitter buddy suspected they were Wen, Wei Ying would have to keep him from hurting them. That was a battle he wasn’t ready for yet. Once he had officially left the Jiang sect without tarnishing his own reputation, he wouldn’t have to put up with Jiang Cheng anymore. 

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng snapped, his eyes sparking like Zidian. 

“Come on, Melin. Let’s leave Lei Fan alone. His arm hurts and it’s making him grumpy.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and led him back to the others, leaving Jiang Cheng to his own devices.

By the time they reached the Unclean Realm, everyone was exhausted. They had travelled for days through inhospitable land with little food and less water. On the way, Wei Ying kept the boys going by giving them small lessons on cultivation and entertaining them with stories and songs. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, sulked most of the way. Any time one of the boys asked him anything about cultivation or anything else, he would brush them off and send them back to Wei Ying. 

Every time Wei Ying challenged Jiang Cheng on his treatment towards the boys, he would get a tirade about how Wei Ying thought himself better than Jiang Cheng. It was truly draining to face the same arguments over and over again. 

With every, “The Jiang sect needs disciples.”

He answered with, “I need full grown cultivators, not babies.”

Finally, Wei Ying gave up, leaving him to his own devices. After all, it was probably a good thing the boys stayed away from the Jiang sect, considering the sect leader’s disposition. The last thing he wanted to do was subject anyone else to the same treatment he grew up with. 

During their travels, they came upon a few villages that had barely survived the battles between the warring cultivators. Because of this, their numbers had grown from the five boys to over forty refugees. With every person they brought along, Jiang Cheng seemed to take it as a personal insult. After all, they were just old people, women, and children, or those unable to cultivate or fight. Most of them stayed away from him. 

Wei Ying’s favourite was a two-year-old girl, who had lost her family and hid under a broken crate until the battle was over. As soon as he found her, she wrapped herself around his heart and held on tight. All he could think of was little Yuan and his baby sister. Well, if all worked out, they would have another sibling to grow up with. 

“Yīnmiào, look. We’re here,” he said, holding the tired toddler in his arms. She clung to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Big, isn’t it? Now, don’t take their sect leader too seriously. He barks a lot, but he’s not mean.”

“Not like Lei Fan?” she asked, her big eyes blinking at him.

He laughed. “No. Not like Lei Fan. There are all kinds of grumpy. Some are mean grumpy and some are grumpy grumpy. Sect Leader Nie is grumpy grumpy.” He poked her nose, making her giggle.

Bracing himself for the coming meeting, he followed behind Jiang Cheng as he approached the guards. They had decided to have the refugees camp outside the walls of the Unclean Realm until Wei Ying could find out where they could stay. If Nie Mingjue turned them away, he would bring them to the Burial Mound. 

When Jiang Cheng informed the guard who he was, the Nie cultivator’s eyes grew wide and he ran to report their arrival.

“Do you have to bring her?” Jiang Cheng asked, shifting his irritated expression to Yīnmiào for a fleeting moment. 

Wei Ying suppressed the urge to gut him. “Yes, I do,” he answered with a controlled grin. He kissed her little head. “I plan on adopting her, so she’s coming with me.”

The Jiang leader muttered something about him being a foolish idiot that Wei Ying ignored. His baby girl was a gem he was delighted to be with and call his own. 

Before Jiang Cheng could say anything more, Nie Mingjue came running toward the gate with Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji at his side.

“What the hells? We thought you both were dead!” the Nie leader said, coming to a halt before them. 

“Nope!” Wei Ying piped in with a wide smile. He met Lan Zhan’s golden eyes and felt suddenly shy. His heart jumped in his chest, speeding up until he had to take several breaths to calm down. 

Okay. He could do this. Gods, why did the Lan have to be so beautiful, so perfect? The last time they saw each other was in the tortoise cave - no, Nightless City - no, another cave? 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan asked, stepping toward him, his stoic expression showing the tiniest hint of concern. “Are you all right?”

“Ah, yeah, Lan Zhan. Tired, hungry, and dirty, but fine.” 

The jade’s eyes shifted toward the little girl peeking at him from behind Wei Ying’s hair. “Oh, this is Yīnmiào, my daughter!”

“Your daughter?” Nie Mingjue repeated while both jades stared at him.

“He’s picked up a whole pile of refugees along the way,” Jiang Cheng told them with a displeased tone. “Slowed us down. Otherwise, we would have been here a lot sooner.”

“It’s commendable to help the civilians,” Lan Xichen said, much to Jiang Cheng’s disappointment. 

“Speaking of helping civilians, we have about forty people who need shelter and food. Several of them are elderly and children. Right now, they’re camped out in front of your walls, but I was hoping you would have some place safer for them to go.” Wei Ying put on his most pleading expression, waiting for the Nie leader to step up.

He gave a curt nod and waved over one of his assistants. While they discussed the logistics of housing the displaced people, Yīnmiào began to fuss.

“Ah, she’s hungry,” he said, rocking her. “And tired. We travelled a lot at night and hid during the day for half the trip, so sleep was sporadic.”

Nie Mingjue turned aside and waved them forward. “Right. I have quarters for you and Sect Leader Jiang. We are quite full right now, but I’m sure you two don’t mind sharing. Once you’ve both cleaned up and eaten, you can give a full report.”

Jiang Cheng’s chest puffed out as his scowl darkened. There was no way they could share a room together anymore. 

Managing a semblance of a bow with his girl in his arms, Wei Ying tried to decline. “I’m sure Sect Leader Jiang could use some privacy. My daughter and I can always stay with the civilians, if there isn’t room.”

“Wei Ying and Yīnmiào can stay with me,” Lan Zhan said, his eyes glued to him. “If he wishes. I have room.” A light red coated the tips of his ears. 

“Ah, I don’t want to put you out, Lan Zhan,” he said, ignoring the glare from Jiang Cheng. “We can sleep anywhere.” He tickled her tummy and she giggled. “Can’t we, my flower?”

“Na, uh.” The disapproving pout she gave him nearly did him in. She reached her tiny hands toward Lan Zhan.

“Stay wit you.”

“Ahh, my child has betrayed me,” Wei Ying exclaimed while Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen watched in amusement. 

Lan Zhan stood frozen for a moment before sweeping her into his arms and striding off. 

Wei Ying gaped at him. “Hey! That’s my child. Lan Zhan, you can’t just take another person’s child like that. Lan Zhan? Lan er gege? Lan Wangji! Hey!” 

He scrambled after them, causing every person they passed to stare or laugh at them.

A couple of hours later, Wei Ying sat by the window that looked out at a small garden of fruit trees and wild flowers. He was clean, fed, and happy. Yīnmiào loved her bath and the pretty robes - light blue and white like Lan colours - Lan Zhan had acquired from somewhere. By the time she had finished her congee, her little head bobbed as her hazel eyes blinked rapidly to stay open. 

Lan Zhan hovered while he tucked her in the second daybed and pulled out his dizi. After the first few notes, he lit up in surprise as the sweet notes of a qin wove around his music. Delighted, he closed his eyes and embraced the joy of playing with his Lan Zhan. As his heart soared, he could no longer deny he was in love with his stoic, fuddy duddy of a Lan.

When the song ended and he opened his eyes, Yīnmiào was asleep and Wei Ying couldn’t keep himself from gazing into the golden orbs of his beloved.  

“Ah, I am honoured to get to play music with the great Lan Wangji,” he finally managed with a dry throat. He moved to the low table and stuck a warming talisman on the teapot, wishing he had something stronger. “She’ll be spoiled now. My playing alone won’t do. You’ll have to take responsibility.”

Damn, his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. He was the Patriarch, the most dangerous cultivator in the cultivation world. Why was he falling apart now?

“Mn” Lan Zhan said, kneeling near him. “Will take responsibility if Wei Ying wants me to.”

The scent of sandalwood took over his senses. “Oh. You will. Right. Sure.” He managed a light chuckle before needing to clear his throat. “It’s her favourite song. I don’t remember where I heard it.” 

He paused, his mind flitting through the times in his past life where he played that particular song. Wen Yuan loved it and Wei Ying found it was the best melody to sooth fierce corpses and himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, another memory lingered like a hazy dream.

“You, did you play it for me once?” he asked, trying to remember more.

Lan Zhan’s gaze dropped to his lap where his fingers were woven together in a grip so tight his skin was white. “Mn. You do not remember?”

A chuckle loosened the tightness in his chest. “A lot has happened in the last few months. My memory isn’t the best most of the time, let alone after all this.” He edged closer, drawn in by his cute, tiny pout. “Won’t Lan er-gege help me?”

The jade met his gaze. How long they stayed like that, he wasn’t sure, but when someone knocked at their door, he felt like he was coming out of the deepest meditation of his life. 

“Come in,” he called, turning back to the teapot. He poured himself a cup and drank it in one go, the burn of the heat clearing his head. 

“Am I interrupting?” Lan Xichen asked in a soft voice with a matching smile. 

“No, no,” Wei Ying said, gesturing to the other side of the table. “We just got a-Miào down. She’s a tired little bun.”

“She’s adorable,” the Lan Sect Leader said, kneeling beside his brother. His gaze flicked toward Lan Zhan, who busied himself with the tea, his ears bright red. “And quite a surprise, as is your arrival in Qinghe. We had reports that Wen Chao killed you and Jiang Wanyin. We also had reports that Wen Chao was dead. It was difficult to discover which was true.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Wen Chao is dead. So is Wen Zhuliu,” Wei Ying said, happy to focus on something other than his lovesick desire to kiss Lan Zhan. When did his lips get so damn desirable? He caught the sigh before it escaped from his mouth. No. He wasn’t a lovesick maiden. He was the Patriarch, a fighter and high level cultivator.

“That is good to know,” Lan Xichen said with a pleased expression. “Nie Mingjue will be happy to hear the whole story. So far, Jiang Wanyin hasn’t left his room. I’m sure he’s still working through his grief at the loss of Lotus Pier.” He gave a small bow to Wei Ying. “My condolences on your losses. I’m sure you both are eager to take Yunmeng back and re-establish the Jiang sect.”

Caught off guard, Wei Ying stumbled over some kind of response. “Well, ah, actually, I won’t be going back to Yunmeng.”

They both froze, the dual intensity of their Lan eyes on him. “No?”

The word Lan Xichen spoke held a lot more than a simple, inquiring negative. 

“No. Not because I don’t want to or I am abandoning Jiang Wanyin when he needs me,” he said, though the lie burned. He pulled out the note from Baoshan Sanren and passed it over. “I’m trusting you both with this information because I’m not sure how to go about this without damaging my or Jiang Cheng’s… Wanyin’s reputation.” At least part of that wasn’t a lie. 

“We needed her help to heal Sect Leader Jiang’s core,” he continued as their eyes grew wide at the message on the paper. “Foolishly, I thought it was best for him to pretend to be me in the hope that she wouldn’t refuse him. When I found him after, this note was with him. He didn’t take it too well, but I don’t want to risk his core to find out if her threat is true.”

Silently, he apologised to his mother’s mentor, hoping he would never have to explain himself to her over his lies. He waited, trying not to fidget with fear at being called out.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Lan Xichen said, his concern clear in his expression. “I doubt Sect Leader Jiang will want anyone to know about his situation as it would be harmful to his ability to rebuild the Jiang sect. For myself, I will do my best to stand by you both and minimise any damaging rumours. Though it will be difficult to keep certain parties from believing you left for less than honourable reasons.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan said, his usual emotionless face determined. “Simple solution.”

Wei Ying blinked, his mind going over the options, searching for something he might have missed. 

“And that is?” Lan Xichen asked, the corners of his lips twitching as though he knew what his brother was going to propose.

“Marriage,” Lan Zhan answered with ears so red they almost glowed.

“Marriage?” Wei Ying gasped, terrified his beloved meant he should marry someone other than him. Yet, also hopeful, in a surprising way, that Lan Zhan wanted to marry him. “To whom?”

“Wangji?” Lan Xichen said, watching his brother carefully.

Lan Zhan took off his forehead ribbon and tied it around Wei Ying’s wrist, knotting it several times. “To me. If Wei Ying is willing.”

Wei Ying stared at the bright, beautiful line of white decorating his forearm. “I, uh. I, Lan Zhan. I don’t want to marry you just to get out of a difficult situation.”

“You don’t wish to marry me?” The sorrow in his beloved’s voice was heartbreaking.

“No, I do. I just don’t want to marry you unless you want to marry me. I mean, it’s always been you. I didn’t always know it, but it’s always been you. Only you. I want to, if you want to for the right reasons. Don’t be your beautiful, noble self here. Are you asking me to help me out of this political pit, or are you asking me because…”

He froze. How do you ask someone if they love you? Lan Zhan was perfect. He was the second young master of the prominent Lan clan and one of the most talented and powerful cultivators in the cultivation world. Wei Ying was… Wei Ying. He didn’t have anything except a bunch of ragtag kids that liked to follow him around, a secret group of ex-Wens hiding in the Burial Ground, the secret ability to cultivate resentful energy, and nothing else. His heart sank. Maybe he should just head to the Burial Ground and let everyone believe he disappeared.

“No. This doesn’t make any sense,” he said, his heart breaking with the words. “You’re one of the highest ranking disciples in the cultivation world. You have power and prestige. You’re supposed to marry someone of equal quality. I’m just… I’m no one. I don’t even belong to a sect anymore.”

“Are those your only objections?” Lan Xichen asked in a startling show of support for this absurd plan.

“Do I object to a union between me and your brother because I’m not worthy of such an alliance? Yes. I can’t do that to you, Lan Zhan. You are the lightbearer. I am just… me. Even if I was selfish enough to go through with this, your uncle hates me. He’ll never allow it!”

He stopped, his raised voice making a-Miào fuss. Thankfully, she settled back down after a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. It’s not that I don’t love you because I do. I think I always have, but I won’t force you into a life stuck with me because you want to help me out of a difficult situation.”

Oh, gods, he said too much. He wiped at his cheeks. Oh, great, and he was crying. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. They were supposed to do something, anything other than rip his heart out of his chest and tie it with a white ribbon.

“Well, I approve,” Lan Xichen said with a nonchalant tone. He rose and bowed. “Congratulations, Wangji. Wuxian, welcome to the family.” He left before Wei Ying could object.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying started, but the beautiful man was looking at him with those golden eyes. “I…” Whatever else he was going to say caught in his throat.

“You love me,” his beloved said as though awed by the revelation.

“Yes.”

“Love Wei Ying.”

“Oh.”

“Only Wei Ying.”

“Oh.” he tried to get his brain to come up with a better response without any luck.

“Want to marry Wei Ying. Be with Wei Ying always.”

“Oh, well, I - I - really?” 

Lan Zhan moved closer; Wei Ying almost stopped breathing. 

“Really.”

They were only mere inches apart. It wasn’t fair. “Oh, okay.”

A small knock interrupted them. 

“Really?” they both said, and Wei Ying laughed while Lan Zhan delighted him with a smile. 

Wei Ying got up and went to the entrance. “Whoever you are, you interrupted… oh, hi!” He backtracked as he opened the door and found Meilin and Xiaotong standing there. 

“Interrupting what?” the smallest boy asked, his expression all innocent and cute.

“Tea,” he said, waving a hand for them to enter. “That’s all. What do you two want?”

“We missed you,” Meilin said while his older brother nodded. “Then we ran into a cultivator with a fan and he told us where you were. He said you would be very happy to see us. You are, aren’t you?”

Wei Ying cursed Huaisang in his head. “Of course, I am,” he said, ruffling their hair. “Sit, but be quiet. a-Miào is sleeping.”

He knelt beside Lan Zhan, letting their shoulders touch. “Let me introduce you two to the most talented cultivator I know. This beacon of light beside me is Second Young Master Lan Wangji, one half of the amazing twin jades. Lan Zhan, this is Meilin and Xiaotong, two of the most inquisitive boys I’ve ever met. Well, Meilin is inquisitive. Xiaotong is mute.”

“He was born that way,” Meilin explained, pouring everyone tea. “Mom always said it was because he’s so wise he doesn’t need to say anything. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I’m going with it.”

“Mn. Hello.” Lan Zhan said with a tilt of his head. 

The older boy nudged his little brother. They both rose and bowed. “Wei Meilin and Wei Xiaotong are honoured to greet Second Young Master Lan Wangji.”

Wei Ying choked on his tea. “W-what? Wei?”

Both boys grinned at him. “Well, you are adopting Yīnmiào; why not us?” They turned wide puppy eyes on him. “You do want to adopt us, don’t you? The other boys like being orphans, but we want to stay with you.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Aiya. Lan Zhan. Are you sure you want to marry me? It seems I come with plenty of baggage.”

Lan Zhan took his hand. “Will always want Wei Ying.”

“You two are getting married?” Meilin asked, bouncing on his feet. He and his brother knelt again and poured more tea. “Now, you have to adopt us. That way, you’ll have a large family. You don’t want Yīnmiào to grow up alone.”

“Will adopt both,” Lan Zhan said, and Meilin cheered while Xiaotong grinned broadly.

The noise woke up little a-Miào, and the two rushed over to see her.

Lan Zhan leaned close to Wei Ying’s ear. “A-Yuan needs brothers and sisters.”

This time, Wei Ying sprayed tea over the table and coughed until Lan Zhan had to pat him on the back.

During the entire meeting with Nie Mingjue, Wei Ying found it hard to concentrate. Not only was he getting married and adopting three more kids, but Lan Zhan knew a-Yuan. That meant - that meant, ahhh. 

He needed to get Lan Zhan alone. His hormones agreed, and he groaned internally. That would have to wait until later. For now, he needed to talk about the past and confirm his fiance had time-travelled too. Maybe he misheard. Maybe Lan Zhan was talking about someone else. Maybe he mentioned a-Yuan and forgot. It was possible. Sometimes, he forgot things before he finished his sentences. 

“Hey, idiot,” Jiang Cheng barked with a drunken slur.  “Are you listening? Sect Leader Nie asked you a question.”

“What? Oh, sorry, Sect Leader Nie.” He forced himself to focus.

“It’s quite alright, Young Master Wei, I understand it has been a hectic day for you,” Nie Mingjue said with a strange twinkle in his dark eyes. 

No. That was disturbing. Nobody built like a stone wall should ever look that mischievous. The last time he had seen the Nie leader was at the siege of the Burial Ground. Now, they were sitting around a table laden with food, talking together as though they were old friends. He didn’t know whether to get up and leave or ignore the whole mess in his brain until later. 

He glanced over at Lan Zhan, who’s neutral expression irritated him to no end. 

“Yes, Sect Leader. I’m still processing it all.”

Nie Mingjue poured him a cup of liquor before pouring himself one. He raised his drink in the air. “Let me be one of the first to congratulate you.”

“Here, here,” Lan Xichen said and raised his cup of tea.

Jiang Wanyin grunted and clicked his tongue with a derisive sneer. 

“Do you have a problem, Sect Leader Jiang?” Nie Mingjue asked, confused by his actions.

“You’re congratulating him for adopting an orphan at the beginning of a war. Don’t you think that’s irresponsible? Especially since he no longer belongs to any sect?”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t belong to a sect?” the Nie leader asked, his usual stern face back. 

“He’s leaving,” Jiang Cheng spat. “He brought the Wen down on Lotus Pier and caused the death of my parents and all our disciples, and now that there’s nothing left for him, he’s off to find another sect to leech off of. Be careful, Sect Leader Lan. I think he has his sights set on yours.”

“Are you accusing him of being a white-eyed wolf, Sect Leader Jiang?” Lan Xichen asked, his smile falling.

The jackass leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. “I’m just saying he brought about the destruction of my clan and my sect. Now that there isn’t anything left for him, he’s moving on instead of staying around to help me rebuild it. He took from my family from the first day my father brought him in, and gave little back except shame and problems. Now, I have to sit here and congratulate him for picking up some stray?” He lifted up his cup. “Well, here you go, Wei Wuxian. Congratulations for grabbing some grubby creature out of the gutter. May she do to you what you have done to my family.”

He drained his wine and poured himself another. 

“Actually, I was congratulating him on his betrothal to Wangji,” Nie Mingjue said in a dry voice. “But congratulations on adopting that beautiful little girl too.” He lifted his cup and Lan Xichen followed suit.

“Yes, Wuxian, Wangji, congratulations. Wuxian, welcome to our family.”

“Thank-you,” Wei Ying managed, trying to work his way around the anger building in him from Jiang Cheng’s words.

Jiang Cheng coughed and gave a bitter laugh. “What? That’s your next move? You can’t get into a sect legitimately, so you trick Lan Wangji into a cutsleeve marriage? Wow. You are more devious than I thought. I guess picking up that pitiful kid was worth it.”

Lan Zhan leaped to his feet, his hand on his sword. Wei Ying caught his arm. The last thing he wanted at the end of a long day was a fight between his fiance and a drunk Jiang leader. Besides, if anyone was going to fight him, it would be himself. 

“Ignore him, Lan Zhan. He’s drunk.”

“Ignore him. Ignore him,” Jiang Cheng whined. “Who are you to ignore me? You are nothing but the son of a servant.”

Nie Mingjue signalled a couple of servants. “Escort Sect Leader Jiang to his quarters. He’s had enough for today.”

Jiang Wanyin tried to fight the Nie servants off, but was no match for them. They lifted him off his cushion and dragged him away. All the while, he rambled on about Wei Ying and how much he owed the Jiang sect.

“Don’t worry, Wuxian,” Lan Xichen said, donning his kind smile. “We know the truth. He’s just grieving and doesn’t realise what he’s saying.”

“Not true,” Lan Zhan said, taking his place again. 

“I agree with Lan Wangji,” Nie Mingjue said, stretching his shoulders. “People often spill what they really believe when they’re drunk. He holds a great deal of resentment towards you, and it’s not all from the recent events. Watch your back.”

Lan Xichen put a hand on the Nie leader’s shoulder. “Mingjue, that’s not fair. I’m sure he’ll realise the errors in his comments.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Wei Ying asked, tired of having someone constantly telling him Jiang Cheng never means what he says.

“I’m sorry?” Lan Xichen asked, startled by his question.

“What if he means what he says? What if it’s not just a matter of being drunk, or unable to share his feelings properly? What if that’s how he really feels? Should I just smile and take it? I’ve done that all my life. I’ve taken his temper with a smile, his cutting comments with a laugh; I’ve taken the blame for every time he’s caused trouble or every time any other disciple did something to make Madame Yu unhappy. I’ve moulded myself to smile and joke and write it all off as though I’m made of stone and nothing bothers me, like I don’t have any emotions. During all that time, no one stopped Madame Yu’s whip. No one stopped her from punishing me for the smallest thing, until I gave up trying to please her and did what I wanted because if I was going to get punished, I might as well have fun first. Soup and meaningless attention only heal so much.” 

Wei Ying tried to stop himself from spilling out everything, but he couldn’t. It was like he had detached himself from his body and someone else was talking while he floated around.

“When Madame Yu was willing to cut off my right hand to satisfy Wen Chao’s leech, was it right for me to think, ‘Fine, I’ll just learn how to use my left hand,’? When Jiang Cheng nearly choked me to death for saving Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan in the cave, and I let it go because Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu told me to take care of him even if it cost me my life, did I not have the right to be angry? I have run interference for Jiang Cheng since almost the moment we met. I have allowed myself to play the fool to pull attention from his terrible temper and social skills. I have brought him friends, teased him out of sulking, and let go of every scathing word out of his mouth. 

Almost every day, I have listened to him and his mother make snide comments about my parents, who I barely remember. I have avoided asking about my parents, in case it started an argument and made Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli sad. I have pretended not to hear the gossip spread throughout the cultivation world, gossip that shamed my mother and her relationship with my father. It doesn’t matter that my parents hadn’t been back to Lotus Pier for a long time before my mother got pregnant. Doesn’t matter - where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Well, sometimes, the fire is the burning resentment of the person who started the rumour. 

According to Madame Yu and Jiang Wanyin, I owe the Jiang sect for existing. Answer me this, honourable Sect Leaders, when you take an orphaned child into your sect, do you expect them to pay you back for feeding them, clothing them, keeping them safe, and training them? Do you expect any child of your sect or clan to do the same? Do I really owe them for this golden core that I worked for, sweated for, and took beatings for? If so, then rip it from me and give it to them because my life has no value.”

He finally stopped, running out of words. His head ached and his stomach churned with acid. It took everything he had to keep the tears burning his eyes from sliding down his face.

“I am sorry, Sect Leader Nie, Sect Leader Lan. I should not have run on like that.” He managed to get to his feet, barely aware of Lan Zhan’s presence beside him. 

“See, Lan Zhan, this one isn’t worthy of you,” he whispered. 

His fiance wrapped his arms around him and escorted him out of the room.

Chapter Text

One of the last things Lan Wangji remembered was the crack of the whip. He didn’t feel the gut-wrenching barbs digging into his flesh anymore. His core fought to heal his wounds, but there were so many. If he survived this, he doubted he would be able to cultivate anymore. 

As he casts his blurred vision around him, he sees the look of disappointment and disgust on his uncle’s face. Was there any love? Yes, he supposed there was, but it always lost out in favour of the rules. 

The rest of the elders watching over his punishment looked pleased as they destroyed him. These were his relatives, his family, aunts and uncles who watched him grow. These were the people who instilled a loyalty to their rules that left him incapable of making his own decisions, of saving his beloved. Did they care for him? He did try to protect Wei Ying from them, but he also tried to make sure their injuries were not serious. Somehow, they didn’t feel the need to return the favour. He disappointed them just like his father and mother disappointed them. This wasn’t just about him. They were finally able to enact the revenge they wanted to bring down on his mother and father. 

As these thoughts drifted through him, another strike made his heart freeze. The next one made his vision fade. If there were any after that, he did not know. 

The next thing remembered was the smell of smoke. He opened his eyes. Why was he in the Jingshi? He survived? Tentatively, he moved his limbs - no pain, no restricted movement. With a gasp he lunged from his bed and winced. His leg hurt - just like it did after he returned from the Xuanwu cave. Other than that, he was fine. 

He was fine. Wei Ying! Wei Ying was fine and he was fine. They were fine. Time-travel? A second chance? It didn’t seem possible, but here he was.

He flopped back onto the bed. What now? Restless, he jumped up and smoothed out his robes. Mind whirling, his limbs moved without him and he started pacing. Where was Wei Ying right now? He was in Cloud Recesses, so he was either in Lotus Pier or - or. Oh, he didn’t want to think about it.

After grabbing the student sword he used until he got Bichen back, he strode out the door and into the world of a memory. Everywhere he looked, he found scorched earth and damaged buildings. Whatever they rebuilt since the Wen attack was no longer. It hurt all over again. He loved Cloud Recesses, every part of it. He grew up under the shelter of the lush mountains and clear streams. But since his re-awakening, some of the security and comfort he previously felt was gone. His clan wasn’t his enemy, but they were no longer his family either. The realisation weighed heavy on him.

“Wangji.”

He flinched. The sound of his uncle’s voice made his breath freeze in his chest. It took every ounce of control he had to turn and greet his elder. 

“Uncle,” he managed with a small bow. He kept his gaze down, unable to meet the other’s eyes. 

“I just received word the Wen sect sacked Lotus Pier yesterday.”

No. No, no, no. The word repeated in his head, blocking out whatever his elder said. He had to go. He had to find Wei Ying. Without responding or heeding his leader’s call, he rushed down the path and jumped on the spare sword as soon as he crossed through the main gate. 

Several days later, he landed outside Yiling, exhausted from the constant travelling. He tried to get to Lotus Pier first in case Wei Ying was still there, but too many Wen patrols milled about. The closest he got was the outskirts of Tanzhou. From there, he had to skirt around Jiangling to reach the town at the foot of the Burial Ground. Along the way, he listened for any word of his Wei Ying. So far, all he had learned was that he had escaped with Jiang Cheng and Wen Chao was headed toward Yiling. 

Desperate to reach his beloved before the Wen bastard found him, he pushed himself harder. His core was stronger than it was before, but he decided not to question it. All the death, time-travel, and differences could be dealt with once he had Wei Ying again and made certain his soulmate knew how much he loved him. 

Strangely enough, Yiling was quiet. Where were the Wen cultivators? He moved through the streets, wary of anyone who might be an enemy. However, most of the civilians kept to their homes. The market only had a few stalls open, most of them selling basics like rice, grain, and vegetables. 

He thought of the Wen Remnants and the tiny settlement near the top of the Burial Ground. Guilt ate at him. Even after witnessing their destitute situation, he didn’t bring them food or other supplies. They were starving; even a-Yuan didn’t have enough to eat. And his dearest one? He was slowly disappearing, so thin Wangji could count his bones if he took the time to face Wei Ying’s impoverished situation.

Too late, too late. Always too late. 

Well, he knew better now. He would not sacrifice the treasure of his heart for anyone else. If he had to stand by Wei Ying’s side against the rest of the cultivation world, he would. Nobody, not Jin Guangshan, his uncle, or that traitor Jiang Wanyin would stand in his way. Wei Ying was worth more than they ever did. 

He stopped by the inn where he found Wei Ying’s Jiang bell last time and searched everywhere. 

Nothing. Where was it? Did this mean Wen Chao hadn’t found him yet? Was Wen Ruohan’s second son even here?

Gritting his teeth, he rushed over to the supervisory compound. Shocked, he stared at the burned out hull that was once Wen Qing’s office. 

Someone else must have come back. Too many things had changed here. But was it friend or foe? Hopefully, it was Wei Ying. Then again, if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t remember all their arguments and clashes. He wouldn’t think Wangji hated him. He could try again - do better.

“Second Young Master Lan?”

Blinking, he realised he wasn’t paying attention again and Wen Qing stood in front of him with a wary expression on her round face. Yes, she looked different dressed in simple clothes and carrying a little girl on her hip, but he should have noticed her. 

“Lady Wen?”

“Shh,” she said, moving closer to him. Her eyebrows furrowed as she checked to see if anyone heard. “Come with me.”

He followed, realising they were heading for the Burial Ground. Was Wei Ying already there? If so, did that mean she time-travelled too or did his beloved convince her to follow him? He wouldn’t be surprised if Wei Ying did. They were his family, even if they didn’t know it yet.

As they headed up the path to the settlement, he marvelled at the difference in the place this time. Not only were the wards far stronger than before, but the air was more pure and the ground cleaner. The trees and bamboo still bore black trunks and branches, but the leaves held a bright green that almost glowed. 

Even more shocking was the number of children running about, laughing and playing amid several actual houses - no tents, no shacks barely standing. These were homes one could spend a lifetime in. And the people were happy. Popo, Uncle Four, and all the rest now lived a peaceful, productive life farming in a sanctuary no army could touch.

“How?” he asked, unable to stop staring.

She put the child down and led him to a quiet area behind one of the houses. “This is my private garden. Wei Ying insisted.” Her fingers pulled at the ends of her sleeves. She gestured to a couple of bamboo benches. “Let’s sit. Would you like some tea?”

He managed a small bow before situating himself on one of the benches. “Thank-you, no. Wei Ying?" he asked, unable to wait any longer.

A grin played over her lips. “He’s not here, but he’s all right. At least he was the last time I saw him. I should hear from him soon.”

His heart soared at her words. He sent out prayers of gratitude to every god and goddess he could think of. 

“Since you are here and know who I am, I take it you too are re-living the past? Mmm. Interesting,” she continued when he nodded. “Just you?”

He managed another nod. “As far as I know. You and Wei Ying?”

She ran a hand over her forehead. “Yes, well, no. At first, it was only me, but Wei Ying being Wei Ying, he figured out a way to bring back his own memories.”

Wangji didn’t know whether to be happy or saddened by that. Where did they stand now? Did he remember Wangji’s confession? Did he know how much Wangji loved him? Did he love him back?

“Hello?” Her cool fingers touched his wrist, startling him out of his head yet again. “Relax. I’m just checking your condition. This is the third time your attention has wandered. Am I wrong in thinking it is unusual for the great Hanguang-jun to be inattentive?”

“No,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed. 

The healer peered into his eyes, making him uncomfortable with being so close to her. 

“It’s been happening since you came back, hasn’t it?”

He nodded again.

“Right. I’ll get Wen Ning to make you some tea that will help. Your qi and core are a bit of a mess. Don’t worry. It took me quite a while to sort myself out too. Wei Ying adapted like nothing, but that may be because of how his memories came back or because of his weird brain. I’m not sure which. For now, rest and let yourself reorient yourself to the present. This is my home. I share it with Wen Ning. You can stay with him before you go running off to find Wei Ying. The last thing we need is for the light-bearing lord to die because his brain is scrambled.”

She rose and left him. A peaceful silence descended, though the giggles and laughter of children still floated in. The tension in him poured out, and he almost started crying. 

“Young Master Lan?” Wen Ning called in a timid voice.

The young man entered with a tray in his hands and a small line of children behind him. It was strange to see the Wen alive, no black lines or grey skin. His open face showed his emotions clearly through bright, wide eyes and an uneasy smile. 

“Please,” he said, gesturing to a bamboo table by his seat. 

“It’s g-good to see you,” Wen Ning said as he prepared the tea. “I hope you d-don’t m-mind the c-children. They are curious.”

The little girl Wen Qing had been carrying in Yiling poked her head out from around his skirts.

“Hello,” she said with her fingers in her mouth. 

He tilted his head in greeting, and she giggled.

“This is Ziyi,” Wen Ning said and gave him a cup of steaming tea. “My sister says you are like her.”

“Mn,” he said, noting the young man’s fidgeting. Clearly, he had questions. Since he had some of his own, Wangji gestured to the bench beside him. 

“Oh.” Wen Ning scrambled to take a seat with a grateful nod. The little girl crawled onto his lap, her bright eyes locked on Wangji. 

“Your settlement was not the same last time,” he asked between sips. The sweet liquid soothed him, clearing his thoughts.

“N-no. That’s w-what my sister said. She said W-wei-gongzi wasn’t as p-powerful as he is now. This time, he cleared the resentful energy w-within a couple of days. He also engaged some of the m-more helpful fierce corpses to help b-build the houses and clear the land. And w-we had more resources and healthy p-people. W-we took everything w-we could from our village and supplemented it from what w-we could from the supervisory office. So it’s m-much better this time.” He shrugged, his hands combing through Ziyi’s hair. “I don’t kn-know, though. I don’t remember, and they w-won’t tell me everything. From what she and W-wei-gongzi have said, it sounds like it w-was really bad.”

From the way the Wen looked at him, he wasn’t sure how to answer. Did he want assurances that it wasn’t as bad as they implied or did he want the truth? 

The Wen’s head bobbed up and down. “It’s okay, Lan-gongzi, I understand. Jiejie doesn’t w-want to talk about it either.  It’s better this time. That’s all that m-matters.”

Wangji let it go. After all, how did one explain the pain and suffering like that? Not to mention, he had no idea how it ended. 

Ziyi tugged at his sleeve and smiled with a gummy grin. There was something familiar about the little girl. She reminded him of…

“A-Yuan.”

“That’s my baby broder,” she said, patting his arm. “He’s not even one yet, so he gets stinky bum. That’s wha Popo calls it when she cleans his diaper. It smells so bad I have to pinch my nose.” She squished her button nose between her fingers and petted his sleeve with her free hand. “You have soft clothes. They’re pretty.”

A-Yuan, Wei Ying’s boy, had an older sister.

“She died in the camps,” Wen Qing told him as she joined them. “All the children did except a-Yuan.” She patted the girl on the head. "Go play with the others, Ziyi.”

The little girl gave a quick nod and jumped off of Wen Ning, disappearing down the path between the houses. 

“Wei Ying and I have vowed to keep everyone safe this time.”

“Wei Ying’s vow is my vow,” he said before she could say anything more.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. What that was supposed to mean, he had no idea. 

“Wei Ying’s vow is my vow,” he repeated. “Wei Ying’s family is my family.”

“You two deserve each other.” She sat and poured herself some tea. 

“He spoke of me?” He asked, hopeful.

The healer laughed. “He always speaks of you. Lan Zhan this, Lan Zhan that, no offence but it’s annoying. He’s annoying.” She rubbed her arms. “He gets under your skin, and all you can do is worry about him.”

Wangji’s lips twitched at the corners. “Yes, but he’s worth it.”

Her expression turned hard. “Is he? Do you really believe that, Second Young Master Lan? You saw his plight. You saw the condition of our settlement and the people struggling here. You held a-Yuan in your arms; yet, I don’t remember you helping much more than that.” She raised a hand. “No, no. That’s not quite accurate. You helped bring Wen Ning back and bought toys for a-Yuan. For that, I am grateful. But why didn’t you help him? You sent the invitation; were you a part of the ambush?”

His fingers clenched the fabric of his robes. “No. I sent the invitation in good faith, but I should have done more. I should have escorted him there to make sure he was safe.” He dropped his gaze, guilt making his conscious burn. “I know I failed him in many ways. Even though I told my uncle and brother about you and your family, they didn’t believe me. They felt I cared too much about Wei Ying to think clearly, and I let them blind me to what was right. I am ashamed of my inability to uphold my vow to him and be righteous.”

Wen Qing poured him another cup of tea, her expression frustrated but understanding. “Yeah. I understand getting caught between being filial and doing what’s right. Unfortunately, I can’t hate you for that one without being hypocritical.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again.

“I have no right to ask, but what is the last thing you remember? For me, it was my death. Thank-you, by the way, for the numbing talisman. The flames were bad enough without the horrific pain of burning alive.”

“I died,” he said, the memory of his uncle’s eyes rising again. 

She choked on her tea. “I wasn't expecting that. After Nightless city? Wuxian said you were the one who took him away from there. He said you protected him. That’s the only reason I trusted to bring you here.”

He shook his head, his throat tightening. “No. After.”

“After. At the siege? Wuxian told me he didn’t see you there.”

Wangji almost dropped his tea. “The siege?”

She nodded. “The sects got together and…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “They killed everyone. He destroyed the Tiger Seal before they could get it from him.” The healer pursed her lips in contemplation. “That may be why we were sent back. If you don’t mind, how did you die?”

He put his cup down and clenched his fists, trying to find the words to explain his death. “Family. Discipline whip.” 

She gasped, eyes wide and hands spread open. “Wait. Are you telling me your family whipped you to death with a discipline whip?”

“Mn.”

“But you are Hangung-jun, their pride. What could you have done to deserve that?”

“Tried to protect Wei Ying from elders.”

Mouth open, she struggled to process what he told her. “So they killed you? Your core is so strong; it would take more than a few hits to take you down.”

“Thirty-three hits for injuring thirty-three elders.”

“Injuring. You didn’t even kill them. Please tell me they were life-threatening injuries at least.”

He shook his head. Incapacitating, yes. Deadly, no. 

“Fuck. That’s cold. That’s right up there with Wen Ruohan. Please tell me your uncle and brother protested, at least.”

“Brother wasn’t there. Uncle…” he couldn’t finish. It hurt too much to say it out loud. 

“Well, welcome to the family.”

He blinked at her.

“Don’t think everyone here didn’t notice the pining between you and him. Besides, when Wuxian got his memories back, he went on about how you loved him and he didn’t deserve you, which is foolish. You are planning on marrying Wuxian, yes?”

His ears burned. “If he’s willing.”

She snorted and left him, chuckling as she went.

He stared after her. What did that mean?

Wangji spent a couple of more days with the Wen healing and discussing their options with the Wen siblings. Wen Qing shared limited information about her first few weeks back. He knew Wei Ying could still use resentful energy, but it was different this time. She told him about Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu’s death and how they used the fire to cover up her disappearance. Otherwise, she told him to ask Wei Ying, who was escorting Jiang Wanyin back to the Unclean Realm to fulfill a promise to the Jiang’s parents.

In the evening, he and the Wen elders gathered to share as much information as they could to help bring Wen Ruohan down. They drew maps and discussed numbers of soldiers. It shocked him to find out how many cultivators from the conquered sects were forced to fight because the Wen leader held their families hostage. He collected as much information as he could, hoping to convince his brother and Nie Mingjue to take a different path than all out slaughter this time. 

During the day, he helped them with whatever he could and bought as many supplies and toys as he could afford with the money he carried with him. As he got to know the Wens, he regretted, more and more, leaving them to themselves in the past. Ziyi and the other children loved to be with him, often begging him to play for them, which he did without hesitation. Several times during the day, he found himself with a-Yuan in his arms while he taught the children how to read and write with some sticks and a patch of dirt. The lessons were short, but a good start for the future. 

Popo and Uncle Four liked to tease him, but they were so kind it didn’t bother him, even when Popo informed him he would have to ask them if he wanted to marry Wei Ying. In response, he surprised himself and them by kneeling and doing just that. Wen Qing smacked him in the arm, informing him that that wasn’t how marriage negotiations worked. Popo just laughed and told him they could iron out the details later while Uncle Four toasted their union. 

His time with the Wen made his upbringing in Cloud Recesses stand out in stark contrast to their loving warmth. This was all he ever wanted in life, he realised, a loving family unafraid to show they cared. 

When Wen Qing finally approved of his health, he found himself wanting to return before he even descended to Yiling. The children bowed to him as he taught them and he bowed back. Ziyi grabbed his legs and held on tight until he promised he would be back as soon as he could. As she stepped away, she crooked her finger, gesturing for him to kneel. Once they were eye to eye, she wrapped her pudgy arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on one cheek then the other.

“That’s for you,” she said after the first. “An’ that’s for Wei Ying,” she said after the second. “Tell ‘im to come home soon,” she whispered in his ear. 

He swallowed the emotions threatening to overwhelm him and whispered back, “I will.”

His flight to the Unclean Realm was uneventful except for a few skirmishes with Wen patrols. On his way, he kept an eye out for any sign of Wei Ying and Jiang Wanyin. Unfortunately, he found no trace of them. Disappointed, he landed before the gates and had the guard announce him. 

He should have gone back to Cloud Recesses, but did not want to face his Uncle. There was no way to explain his sudden change in behaviour or regard for his elders. He doubted even his brother would accept a trip back from the future. 

Sect Leader Nie marched toward him, his dark green robes billowing behind him and the usual cross expression on his face. “Where have you been?” he demanded as though he was his older brother or parent.

The sect leader was Xichen’s friend, not his. They barely spent any time together. He visited with Nie Huaisang the few times he went to the Unclean Realm as a child, but they were a disaster together. He liked to read while Huaisang liked to paint. He liked to study cultivation and Huaisang watched birds or shop. In the end, he stopped going with his brother. It was easier to stay at home than try and communicate with anyone else. The people in Cloud Recesses left him alone. They didn’t expect him to talk. All they wanted was for him to follow the rules and be the perfect disciple. 

“Sect Leader Nie,” he said with a bow. “I was in Yunmeng and made my way to Yiling, searching for Wei Ying.”

“Mm.” He pursed his lips and went to clap him on the shoulder, pausing before he made contact. He pulled his hand away. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright. Your brother will be happy to see you too.”

“Xiong-Zhang is here?” he asked. He had forgotten this was about when his brother returned. Last time, Jiang Wanyin was already here, having arrived just in time for the meeting of the sects. 

“He showed up yesterday with a contingent of cultivators from the various sects threatened by the Wen. But he can tell you all about that later. Right now, I will escort you to him. He’s fine before you worry. Just tired and a little thin. I made him rest.”

Wangji tried to picture Nie Mingjue mother-henning his brother, but didn’t have a good enough imagination for that. 

A couple of weeks later, Wei Ying finally arrived with a handful of children and a bunch of refugees. The sight of him with a little girl in his arms nearly sent his heart racing out of his chest. When she grabbed for him, he thought of Ziyi and scooped her into his embrace. They would stay in his rooms. They would stay, and he would never let them go.

One awkward proposal and three more kids later, and the happiness in Wangji almost overwhelmed him. Then they had dinner with his brother, Nie Mingjue, and Jiang Wanyin. As the night went on, the Jiang leader drank far more than he ate. The more he drank, the more belligerent he got. By the time he left, Wei Ying was trembling. Whatever was racing through his beloved’s mind came spilling out with more hurt and pain than he ever expressed in either life. No matter how much guilt he felt over the past, he was glad the Jiang leader and his wife were dead. Silently, he thanked Baoshan Sanren for insisting Wei Ying leave the Jiang sect. If he had his way, Jiang Wanyin would never get near his fiance again.

Wei Ying leaned heavily against his fiance. Whatever just happened had drained him like he had flown for three days without rest. Such an outburst was not like him. All those things he said, they never bothered him before. Well, okay, they did, but they weren’t important. He exhaled a long breath. Maybe dying made him cranky. 

“Lan Zhan, I don’t want to go back to our room just yet,” he said, almost unable to walk. “The kids are there, and I don’t want to wake them up.”

His beloved kissed his hair and escorted him to one of the private gardens. The cool, mountain air felt good against his hot skin. They stopped at a low bench and leaned against each other in silence for a long while.

When the tension finally slipped from Wei Ying’s body, he snuggled closer to Lan Zhan and sighed. “So, a-Yuan, huh?”

“Mn. And his jiejie. Stopped at Yiling before coming here. Hoped to find you.”

“Huh. I don’t get it. You and Wen Qing time-travelled from the future, which means you remember all the awful things I did, and you still want to marry me. However this happened, it must have scrambled your brains.”

“No brain scrambling. Made me think clearer. Made me realise just how precious you are, and how much I could not afford to lose you.”

Pressed against his broad chest, he listened to the beating of his love’s heart, so strong and true. “Lan Zhan, if you keep saying such sweet things to me, how am I ever going to survive?”

Lan Zhan scooped him in his arms and carried him toward their quarters. “Mn. Wei Ying has to survive. Promised Ziyi I’d bring you back safe and sound.”

“Lan Zhan!” he cried but snuggled closer. This was much better than the first time around.

Nie Mingjue was going to let it all go. It wasn’t his business, after all. But he remembered becoming a new sect leader at such a young age. To deal with all that responsibility after the death of his father, proved a heavy burden he only managed with a stubborn nature and a supportive council. Jiang Wanyin didn’t have anything or anyone anymore, not even Wei Wuxian. Yes, he was a hothead, but pushing people away and making wild accusations would not help him. The boy needed political help. 

He knocked on the Jiang boy’s door and entered when he heard him bark. 

“I’ll assume that was a polite invitation inside?” he said, frowning at the Jiang sprawled out on the bed with a jar in his hand. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night?”

“What do you care?” 

The temperamental snarl almost impressed him. Few people ever spoke to him like that. He took a seat on a low stool and leaned his elbows against his knees. “You’re right. I don’t. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you and your attitude.”

“My attitude is fucking fine!” A spray of saliva spurted from him as he spoke, his face so red it was almost purple.

Lovely. “Sure, if you are intent on turning the world against you.”

“The world is against me,” he whined, tears pouring down his face. “I’ve lost everything, and it’s all that damn Wei Wuxian’s fault. Why did he always have to be the hero? Mother said he would bring ruin to our sect and he did.”

Mingjue tore the jar from Jiang Wanyin’s hand. “Don’t be so naive. The Lan didn’t do anything, and Wen Ruohan went after them. Your sect was next in line, that’s all. Besides, your father and mother had weeks to prepare and did nothing. How is that Wei Wuxian’s fault?”

“Don’t speak about my parents that way! That gutter rat provoked the Wen. All he’s ever done is provoke people against us. He is poisonous.” His anger shifted to laughter. “And you’ll find out soon enough. He’s not my problem anymore, is he? No. He’s that stone wall’s problem. And you’re friends with Lan Xichen, so that makes them both your problem. Damn cutsleeves. Well, at least he left my sect before bringing further shame upon us with his disgusting ways. If my mother was alive, she would have whipped him until she reached bone. Maybe that’s what I should do.”

Mingjue resisted the urge to thrash the boy then and there. He doubted he would get anywhere tonight, the pathetic child was too drunk to reason with. “Maybe you should sober up before you say things like that before you bring shame upon your own head.” He rose and headed for the door. “Get some sleep. I expect you to face me in the training yard early tomorrow morning, hangover or no hangover.”

He rubbed his temple as he made his way to his rooms. The headache pulsing behind his eyes made him want to hit something. 

“Come have tea,” Lan Xichen said when he entered his quarters. The younger man knelt at the table with a pot of tea steaming by him. 

Mingjue grinned. War or not, whining children or not, Xichen always eased his mood. He knelt beside his friend and took a cup. “This would be better with wine in it.”

Xichen laughed, something he rarely did outside of his rooms. “It certainly has been an interesting day. I can’t say I blame you.”

A single chuckle escaped Mingjue. “You’d think these kids would be happy with fighting the Wen without needing to fight each other at the same time.”

“Jiang Wanyin has his mother’s temper. Hopefully, he will grow out of it. Otherwise, I fear for the future of the Jiang sect.”

Mingjue nudged him with his shoulder. “Is that gossip I’m hearing from your lips?”

A slight blush dusted Xichen’s cheeks. “I suppose it is. I’ll do handstands later. Though, I suppose I could consider informing my uncle about Wangji’s impending marriage as punishment.”

“I don’t envy you,” he said, leaning heavily against the table. “I can’t believe your stoic little brother is going to marry the troublesome Wei Wuxian. How will your sect survive?”

“Wangji’s been in love with Wuxian from the moment he saw him. I have a feeling their time in that cave together just solidified their relationship. I’m glad. For a while, I thought the Wei boy didn’t feel the same way and was just teasing him. That would have broken Wangji’s heart. He definitely falls in the ‘Lans only love once’ category.”

Mingjue swirled the liquid in his cup. “What about you, Xichen? Is there love in your future?”

“Are you asking for my hand, Mingjue?” he asked in return, avoiding the question.

He let out a loud laugh. “Oh, no. Marriage is not for me. Huaisang will have to provide heirs.”

Xichen patted him on the shoulder as he rose. “Well, I think I’ll wait until the war is over before thinking about such things as romance. Good night, Mingjue.”

“Good night, Xichen.” He waited until the door closed before collapsing back on his bed. No. Marriage was not for him, not when he saw his death lurking around every corner. 

Chapter Text

Nie Mingjue faced Jiang Wanyin with a touch of bored annoyance. For all his bluster, the kid seemed too focused on proving his strength instead of employing a proper fighting strategy. The Jiang had to know better; he was something like fifth on the young master list. Then again, that didn’t always indicate skill. 

He swept out of the way of another charge and stuck out his foot, sending the boy sprawling into the dirt - again. Mingjue hauled him up by the back of his robes.

“All right, kid. That’s enough. Go get cleaned up.”

Swearing under his breath, the new leader stomped off the field and disappeared into the hall. Mingjue rubbed at the tension building between his eyes. 

“Here,” Xichen said, handing him a jug of water. “Still sulking, huh?”

“Yep. If it weren’t for this war and politics, I’d kick his ass out of here and let him fend for himself. I don’t know how he’s going to do as a sect leader with a temper like that.” A chuckle slipped from him. “He even makes me look reasonable.”

A rich laugh came from his best friend. “Ah, he’s young and just lost his family and home. Hopefully, he’ll be able to grow through this and come out the other end a better leader. Thanks for giving him a chance.”

He huffed. “I’d rather give Wei Wuxian a chance. With this war upon us, there isn’t much room for coddling young masters who can’t get their head out of their back end.”

“Wuxian is a talented cultivator,” Xichen agreed with a weary tone. “I wish I had known more of his situation before. It might have made a difference in his stay at Cloud Recesses.”

“You think so? Seems to me your uncle had a grudge against him before he even arrived,” Mingjue said as he wiped down Baxia. The sword vibrated with unused energy, longing for a more satisfying fight. 

“True. His hatred for Cangse Sanren runs pretty deep. It surprised me that he would let such negativity fester inside him to the point where he would take it out on her son. To tell you the truth, I found it disappointing.”

“That’s because you optimistically believe in the very best of everyone. You treat everyone with dignity and fairness, even in this class-driven society of ours. While both you and I would rather stand by Wei Wuxian’s side, as the son of a servant, he is less than the son of a sect leader. Doesn’t matter if that sect has nothing. The position is his for life; therefore, he will always have authority over those lower than him.”

“Do those rules apply in war? Many servants have raised themselves up through their victories in battle. And many masters have fallen from grace through their defeats.”

Mingjue looped his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Well, Wei Wuxian is a part of your family now, so I guess we’ll see what happens. Come on. Fight me. That last spar left me longing for a challenge.”

Wei Ying shook himself out of his melancholy pout. While he wanted the best for everyone, he wasn’t so good at wanting it for himself. Yet, here he was surrounded by a bunch of kids as Lan Zhan brought them breakfast. 

Life was incredible. Guilt picked at him for his good fortune. 

His Yinmiao sat on his lap, chewing at a wooden bunny to relieve her teething. Slobber ran down her chin and onto his leg, but he didn’t care. She was beautiful and precious, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought. 

He frowned at the strange logic Wen Ruohan had over assigning orphan cultivators as scouts. The selfish jackass probably thought they made good fodder. The whole situation made Wei Ying’s stomach twist in acidic knots. How many of these inexperienced kids died the last time? How many did he personally kill? He held his little one tighter. Some things he wished he didn’t remember. 

The boys cheered when Lan Zhan entered with a couple of heavily ladened food. Wei Ying raised a-Miao’s arms and cheered with them. 

“Ah, dear husband, you have saved this one from the hungry horde. Any longer, and I feared they would think me a good meal.”

“Mn, too skinny,” Lan Zhan said with the tiniest uplift of his lips. 

Wei Ying squealed in outrage before pouting as the boys had a giggle fit. “A-Miao, you are my only friend.” 

His daughter responded by patting him on the head.

Lan Zhan took her from him and handed him a bowl of spicy congee. He sighed in delight and dug in. Meanwhile, his husband settled the boys down and made them eat before feeding their daughter and himself. Once the relatively quiet meal was done and everyone cleaned, they sent their children out to the garden behind their quarters. 

They stood together, watching the three of them play, the boys letting a-Miao chase them. Their giggles and squeals filled the air. Wei Ying rested against Lan Zhan, his husband’s arms and the scent of sandalwood surrounding him. 

“You two look happy,” Xichen said, appearing beside them. “Ah, sorry. I knocked, but I believe you were distracted.” The tease in his voice matched the expression on his face. “Uncle is going to faint when you bring them home.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan responded in a non-committal tone, though his body stiffened at the mention of Lan Qiren. 

That was another issue they needed to address.  With the Wens alive, he didn’t want to live in Cloud Recesses. In fact, he was quite happy with the thought of living in the Burial Ground. Would Lan Zhan, though? Despite everything, he couldn’t let go of the idea that his heavenly husband belonged in Cloud Recesses.

“Bobo, Bobo,” a-Miao exclaimed, running toward Xichen-ge with grabby hands and a delighted giggle. 

He scooped her into his arms, and she gave him a hug. “Oh, you are so sweet. I might just have to keep you myself.”

She placed her tiny hands on each side of his face, and looked at him with a serious, little frown. “No, no. You Bobo, not a-Die or Baba. Can’t keep.”

“Okay, Sweety. I won’t keep; I’ll just borrow. How’s that?” he said with a grin. 

a-Miao thought for a moment, her eyes nearly crossing. “Mn.” She nodded and went back to hugging his neck.

“Bobo,” Mielin called, rushing up with Xiaotong behind him. They stopped and adjusted their posture before bowing properly. “Will you visit with us for a while?” 

“Oh, I’d love to, but I’m actually here to collect your parents for a meeting,” he said, regret clear on his face. “One of Nie Mingjue’s servants will be here in a few minutes to watch over the three of you.”

“Oh.” Mielin’s expression of hope slipped for a moment before shifting to an accepting smile. “We understand. Later?”

“Later,” Xichen-ge promised.

“Lesson time,” Lan Zhan said, encouraging the boys to do their calligraphy. 

So far, they had just covered the basics of reading and writing, but their sons were hardworking and happy to learn. 

Xiaotong bowed before tugging on his brother’s sleeve. Mielin bowed too and they both settled at the table with their brushes and papers. A-tong put a brush and a sheet aside for a-Miao, who snuggled in between them and smeared ink across her page. 

“She’s gonna end up wearing more of that ink than the paper, isn’t she?” Wei Ying said, pleased with his family. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan responded and kissed his temple. “Doesn’t matter. She’ll wash.”

“Ah, haha. Then you’re in charge of bath time tonight.”

The smug expression on his husband’s face told him that Lan Zhan looked forward to the job. Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Love you.”

“Love Wei Ying too.”

“And I love you both, but we have to go,” Xichen-ge said, patting them both on the shoulder.

They followed him out of the room and to the main hall where several sect leaders had gathered. 

“Wei-Xiong,” Huaisang shouted from across the room, holding his fan high as he waved it about. The Nie rushed over and grabbed his arm. “I wanted to go see you as soon as I heard you were here, but then Da-ge had me sorting out refuges and supplies. Which was much more satisfying than sabre practice, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Wei Ying hugged him, enjoying the sect heir’s enthusiastic energy. “It’s good to see you too, Huaisang.”

“Wei-xiong, Da-ge says you are getting married and already have three children?” he said with a pout. “How could you tell him before you told me?”

“Eh, he was there when I arrived, and Xichen-ge was the one who told Sect Leader Nie.” 

“Still, I feel left out. You have to let me plan your wedding.” He flicked a glance to Lan Zhan, his grin touched with trepidation. “Lan- gongzi, marrying Wei-xiong and adopting children. You shock me. Congratulations!”

“Thank-you,” Lan Zhan answered with a single, tolerant nod.

“I think Sect Leader Nie requires your attention,” Wei Ying told him, noticing the man frowning in their direction. “Come to our rooms later. We’ll introduce you to our children.”

“Of course, of course,” he said and rushed back to his brother. 

Together, they knelt beside Lan Xichen. He wanted to avoid looking over at Jiang Cheng, who had taken a seat near the Jin, but the heat of his former shidi’s glare made him turn his gaze. The daggers in the Jiang leader’s eyes made him sad. What would it take to make him move beyond his anger? Well, it wasn’t his responsibility anymore. He gave a respectful bow as propriety dictated, and turned his attention elsewhere. 

“If the Jin are here, did they bring Lady Jiang?” he asked Xichen-ge.

“I believe she arrived with them, but Jiang Wanyin took her to his quarters and no one has seen her since. I’m surprised she isn’t by his side to represent their clan,” he answered before Nie Mingjue called for their attention.

“The Nie sect welcomes their fellow Sect Leaders and cultivators to the Unclean Realm. In this time of war, it is good to see so many who are dedicated to re-establishing peace to our lands. Before we begin to discuss the Sunshot Campaign, I believe there are a few important announcements to make.”

He went to gesture to Lan Xichen when Jiang Wanyin rose to cut him off. 

“Sect Leader Nie, the Jiang sect would…”

“Just a moment, Sect Leader Jiang. Since you are new to your station, I will remind you not to speak before you are given permission from the hosting sect leader,” Mingjue said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“B-but…” he said, scrambling to speak before Lan Xichen. 

Whatever he wanted to say, neither Sect Leader Nie nor Sect Leader Lan were going to let him.

“Sect Leader Lan, I believe you wish to make an announcement,” Nie Mingjue went on, ignoring Jiang Cheng.

Xichen-ge rose while a Nie guard helped Jiang Cheng sit back down.

“Thank-you, Sect Leader Nie. While this may seem trivial in the face of war, I believe good news is important to remind us what we are fighting for. Therefore, I would like to announce the betrothal of my brother Lan Wangji to the head disciple of the Jiang sect, Wei Wuxian. As they are to marry into the Lan clan, we happily welcome Wei Wuxian into the Lan sect. As Sect Leader Jiang has already lost so much in the light of Wen Ruohan’s abominable attack on Yunmeng and Lotus Pier, the Lan sect stands behind the Jiang sect and fully supports the recovery of Jiang lands in return for the loss of their head disciple.”

He bowed to Jiang Wanyin, who’s face shifted through a myriad of colours and expressions. Left with little choice, he bowed in return. 

“The Jiang sect thanks the Lan sect for their generosity, and looks forward to furthering the ties between our two clans,” he managed with only a slight shake in his voice. He lifted his glass and everyone toasted the union.

There. It was done. He was officially no longer a member of Yunmeng Jiang. And Xichen-ge managed it in such a way that Jiang Wanyin could not cast accusations at Wei Ying without losing face himself.

Nie Huaisang hopped to his feet, giving an apologetic glance to his brother. “I would also like to offer a toast to Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin for defeating Wen Chao and the Core Melting Hand.”

Wei Ying almost managed a smile as he lifted his cup amid the cheers of the other sect members. He chose not to correct his friend over the addition of Jiang Cheng’s name in the extermination of Wen Chao. Had his former shidi spread that story, taking the chance to bolster his own reputation? Well, whatever. If that was the last tie in their relationship, he could have it.

“Now, let’s get down to routing that tyrant, who dares to place himself above us,” Nie Mingjue exclaimed, slamming his fist on his table. 

After too many hours listening to people disagree with each other over petty complications, Wei Ying was so glad when they finally managed to finish with a decent plan. He groaned as Lan Zhan pulled him to his feet.

“Come, love. Our children are waiting.”

Wei Ying flopped against his chest. “Carry me. My body has stopped working.”

Lan Zhan kissed him on the top of his head. “Jiang Wanyin.”

“Ugh. Don’t mention him.”

“Wei Ying. Jiang Wanyin is coming over. Wants to talk.” He gently turned him around to face Jiang Cheng.

His ex-brother just didn’t seem to know when to give up. “Sect Leader,” he greeted, straightening enough to be proper. 

Sect Leader Jiang scowled at him, his hands clenching and unclenching. “Fine. It’s done. You're out. You’re no longer a member of the Jiang sect. I’ll rebuild without you since promises mean nothing to you.”

“Wuxian has guaranteed you the support of the Lan. Is that not enough to fulfill any promises of support?” Xichen said, standing behind him. 

He turned, his shoulders hunching in a protective stance. “Yes, you’re right. My apologies. I meant no offence.”

Wei Ying expected him to leave after this, but he stood there as though he wanted to say more. They waited through an uncomfortable few minutes before he spoke again.

“My sister, Lady Jiang, would appreciate it if she could visit,” he said after clearing his throat, his gaze anywhere but on them. 

Oh. Shijie. His throat dried as he tried to decide what to do. “Ah, okay. I, uh, would love to see her. Let her know we will be in our quarters within the next ten minutes.” He glanced over at Lan Zhan for support.

“Mn,” he said, his scowl still directed at Jiang Cheng. 

“Fine,” he said and made his escape. 

“Don’t mind him,” Xichen-ge said. “He’s probably still sore from the thrashing Mingjue gave him early this morning.”

“Huh,” Wei Ying said and rested against his husband again. “That explains the limp.”

Somehow, in the midst of everything going on, the quarters Wei Ying and Lan Zhan shared became the hub where everyone wanted to be. While this delighted the children, Wei Ying’s husband didn’t seem as enthusiastic as everyone else. Too many people.

As his beloved retreated further into a corner, Wei Ying ushered the boys, Xichen-ge, and Nie Mingjue into the garden to entertain each other. Mielin and Xiaotong delighted in the wooden swords the Nie sect leader gave them and proceeded to listen to every word the two high-ranking cultivators offered.

The servant who looked after the children during the meeting had done a great job removing any traces of ink on a-Miao, who had decided to sit in Nie Huaisang’s lap. She babbled away at him, pointing to various parts of the painting on his fan. 

“This one is a natural artist,” Huaisang exclaimed as she kept up a stream of ‘nice, nice, nice,’ while her little finger tapped at the paper with a delicate touch.

With a little more space in the room, Lan Zhan’s shoulders returned to their natural perfection instead of raised by a finger width. He knelt beside Huaisang, and a-Miao took the opportunity to show him the fan.

A light knock at the door indicated the arrival of Shijie - Lady Jiang. Wei Ying’s heart stuttered. The last time he saw her, she had died in Jiang Cheng’s arms. Well, this time he would maintain a proper distance; it was best for both of them. 

The smile she gave him when he let her in was restrained, an odd expression on her gentle face. Behind her, Jiang Cheng loomed like a deep shadow waiting to fall on anyone who dared slight him. 

“Lady Jiang,” he said with a bow. “I’m happy to see you are safe and well.”

She blinked at him, her lips faltering. “A-Xian, such a proper greeting. Aren’t I your Shijie anymore?”

He took the hands she extended toward him and led her to the table where he sat beside his husband. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to reassure her, hug her, and make life so simple. But he couldn’t. 

“Lady Jiang, you know my fiance Lan Wangji, and Young Master Nie Huaisang?” 

She bowed to them, and they nodded back. 

“And this little flower is my and Lan Zhan’s daughter, Wei Yinmiao.”

His sweet angel stood and tried to bow, but fell back into Huaisang’s lap. “Oops,” she huffed, her cheeks puffing out.

Lan Zhan patted her head, making her wrinkle her nose with a toothy smile. 

Wei Ying wanted to coo and wrap them both in a long cuddle. Instead, he leaned in to whisper in his husband’s ear. His beloved did not appreciate the suggestion he join the boys outside, but he nodded and glared at Jiang Cheng before leaving. Wei Ying relaxed a bit. As much as he wanted Lan Zhan by his side, when he and Jiang Cheng are in the same room, storm clouds gather. He’d just have to rely on Huaisang for support and a distraction.  

“Lady Jiang, I will always be grateful for the kindness you have shown me in Lotus Pier, but I am no longer a member of the Jiang sect.”

“You never were,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms over his chest and staying behind her like a grumpy tree. “Father never added your name to the registry.”

Wei Ying laughed. “See? I told you he didn’t favour me.”

“A-Cheng, please,” Jiang Yanli said, looking up at him with a disapproving frown. “A-Xian has always been our brother whether his name was in the registry or not. We three are all we have left now; we must hold onto each other.”

Nie Huaisang busied himself with brushing a-Miao’s hair. “But Wei-xiong is marrying Lan-gongzi. They already have three children. You wouldn’t want to separate such a perfect family, would you?”

“No, no,” she said, her pensive gaze on the hands twisting together on her lap. “I’m happy for you, a-Xian. I’ve always wanted you to be happy.” she glanced at Jiang Cheng behind her before leaning toward him and lowering her voice. “We need you, a-Xian. I’m not asking you to give up your family, but couldn’t you postpone leaving until a-Cheng has rebuilt Lotus Pier?”

Confused, he turned to Jiang Cheng, who refused to take his attention away from a spot on the floor. “Didn’t Jiang Wanyin tell you about the note?” he asked, wishing they would just leave.

Her countenance cooled, no longer pleading. “Yes, but there has to be a way around it. You know where Baoshan Sanren is. Couldn’t you talk to her, tell her you don’t want to leave your family?”

A-Miao waved her hands to get his attention. “Baba, Baba.” She patted her head now decorated with braids and two small buns at the top of her head. “Pretty?”

He pinched her cheek lightly. “So very pretty, my flower.” 

Her giggle in response melted his heart.

“I’m not leaving my family, Lady Jiang. As much as I wanted to be a part of your family, as Sect Leader Jiang says, I am not and never was.”

“Let’s go, Jiejie. Now that he’s destroyed our family, he’s picked up a bunch of street rats as his own. Suits him better, if you ask me,” Jiang Cheng snarled, holding out a hand to her.

Before he could respond, Lan Zhan stepped inside, dropping the temperature of the room by several degrees. The killing intent in his eyes made even Jiang Cheng step back in surprise and fear. 

Then several things happened at once. Jiang Yanli rose and stepped between her brother and Lan Zhan; Lan Xichen held his brother’s arm, though anger coloured his normally calm features; Nie Huaisang scooped up a-Miao and backed away to somewhere safe; Wei Ying went to throw Jiang Cheng out of his quarters; and Nie Mingjue cut him off by twisting the Jiang leader around and thrusting him into the hallway. 

“Kid, you keep this up and you will use up any good will anyone may have for you,” he said with a huff of annoyance. “Don’t strike your allies when your enemies are breathing down your neck.”

Lady Jiang bowed to them, her breathing laboured. “Please, forgive my brother’s careless words. He is grieving and doesn’t mean what he says. Wei Wuxian, Second Young Master Lan, congratulations on your union. May your future blessings grow with your children.” She fled the room without another word while Jiang Wanyin followed her, his expression so furious, he looked like his head would explode. 

Wei Ying sagged onto the daybed. Hopefully that would be the last time he had to deal with either of them. Even after everything they went through, Jiang Yanli tried to excuse his behaviour. 

“Is everything okay, A-Die?” Mielin asked, peeking out from behind Xichen-ge. 

Lan Zhan took their sons in his arms and gave them both a long hug. “Everything is fine.” He smoothed their hair and led them over to Yinmiao. He held out a hand to his brother, who dropped a few wrapped candies in his palm. “Make sure a-Miao only eats small pieces,” he said as he gave the treats to a-Tong. 

Their oldest nodded and took to his job with a gentle expression. He even gave one to Nie Huaisang, who lit up at the gift. 

“Wuxian, Wangji, I think it might be best if you two take the children to Cloud Recesses before heading out to retrieve your swords,” Xichen said, shaking his head in the direction Jiang Cheng left. 

“Good idea,” Mingjue added, his voice gruff. “I doubt Jiang Wanyin is going to stop sulking any time soon. His pride is as bad as his mother’s. I fear the rise of the Jiang sect might be doomed to fail.”

“That means Jin Guangshan will probably try to take over Yunmeng territory. Which means he’ll milk everyone else for trade fees and tariffs along the river,” Huaisang mused through his mouth full of sticky candy.

Nie Mingjue arched an eyebrow at him, his surprise evident. “Well, let’s win this war first before dealing with Jin Guangshan’s greed. Since he’s decided to opt out of assisting, I don’t care if he falls off a cliff.”

“At least, Jin Zixuan is here with a small battalion,” Xichen-ge said in an obvious habit of dwelling on the positive.

Wei Ying shared a glance with his husband. They would deal with the Jin later. 

“We’ll head out tomorrow,” he said, so tired of wars and people. 

“And you’re going with them,” Nie Mingjue said, pointing to Huaisang.

The Nie opened his mouth to protest, but hung his head. “Yes, Da-ge.”

Later that night, Wei Ying tried to sleep. He rested his head on Lan Zhan’s chest, and listened to his heartbeat. Oh, that was wonderful and soothing. 

Still, he longed to see how his Wens were doing. It scared him to think of them there without protection. Well, okay, they had his wards and the resentful dead surrounding them, but they didn’t have him - and he didn’t have them. 

Despite his turbulent thoughts, he fell asleep and into nightmare dreams. It was too much, the loss of the Wen Remnants. All he wanted was for the cultivation world to forget he existed. But they wouldn’t. Their greed and self-righteous superiority wouldn’t let them. They came at him and their settlement of sticks and starvation like an oozing poison, seeping into every crevice and crack until they smothered every bit of peace or happiness. 

“I’m here. I’m here,” a voice said over and over, easing him back to life. 

“Lan Zhan?” he gasped, unable to stop the tears pouring from his heart. “Hnngh, don’t let me go.”

“I won’t. I won’t,” his husband whispered, kissing his head and face until Wei Ying stopped shaking. 

After he cried himself out, Wei Ying drifted off again, leaving everything else behind.

“Cloud Recesses,” Wei Ying said, standing before the gates with Yinmiao in his arms. He never thought he’d ever return here again and was still unsure of what kind of reception he would get. 

Even with Lan Zhan by his side and Xichen-ge with them, he doubted Lan Qiren would be kind. 

Huaisang clapped him on the back. “Let me guess, cold dread sliding down your spine? Sickening, swirling sensation in your gut? Yeah, me too. Happens every time I come here.” His eyes flicked toward Xichen-ge. “No offence, Xichen-gege.”

Sect Leader Lan just donned his usual smile. “Don’t worry, a-Sang. I’m quite used to your less than flattering comments.”

Mielin tugged at Xichen-ge’s sleeve. “Is this a dangerous place?” 

“No,” he assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is where your Baba and I grew up.”

“Oh.” His eyes shifted to Lan Zhan, who looked like a frozen piece of stone. “But Baba doesn’t look happy.”

“Ah, ha ha. Don’t worry, a-Lin,” Wei Ying cut in, knowing where his husband’s thoughts were. “He’s just nervous about introducing his uncle to so many little rabbits.” He tweaked the boy’s nose.

“Baba, won’t he like us?” he asked, his large eyes worried. He shifted closer to a-Tong. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Lan Zhan said, touching their son’s cheek. “You are my son. That will never change, no matter what anyone else says.”

The usual smirk came back on a-Lin’s lips. “Good answer.”

Wei Ying laughed heartily while even his husband huffed a small chuckle. The only one who didn’t respond was Lan Xichen. He stared at his brother as though he missed something and didn’t know what it was. How could he? They had no way of knowing what happened in the future. The question was, were the Lans redeemable or, like Jiang Cheng, were they too ingrained in their ways to save?

Lan Wangji stood in front of his uncle, his emotionless countenance hiding the turmoil inside. He held Wei Ying’s hand on one side and Mielin’s on the other. A-Tong stood by his brother while a-Miao held onto his husband’s neck. They presented a strong front that confused his elder, making his eyebrows draw together  and his beard twitch. 

“Uncle,” he forced the word out of his mouth, trying to disassociate the man in front of him with the one who whipped him and destroyed his faith in the Lan sect. “This is Xiaotong, Mielin, and Yinmiao, my children.” He pointed to each child in turn. “And you already know my betrothed, Wei Wuxian.” As one, they bowed, even a-Miao, though she almost fell over.

His uncle slammed a scroll on his desk and rose to his feet. “Yes, Xichen told me of your -” he cleared his throat, “attachments. Huaisang!”

The Nie poked his head out from behind Xichen. “Yes, Grandmaster?”

“Take these children to the dining hall and get them something to eat. I’m sure they’ve had a long day.”

Wangji encouraged them to leave, having already expected such a reaction. A-Miao gave a sleepy yawn and rested her head against Huaisang’s shoulder while the boys followed him out. 

“Uncle,” Xichen began in his usual way of wanting to soothe their Uncle. 

“Don’t, Xichen.” He held up a hand and shook his head. “I already know what you are going to say. You both expect me to accept this union, those children. Well, how can I?” He jabbed a finger toward Wei Ying. “This - this unruly demon has already been thrown out of Cloud Recesses once for breaking our rules and disrupting the peace we value here. Yet, you expect me to accept this sudden attachment you claim to have for him as real? No. This is some kind of trick on his part. I will not let you go the way of your parents and secure yourself to an unsuitable partner.”

As his uncle spoke, Wangji clenched his fists, struggling to keep his temper. Thankfully, he didn’t have his sword or he might have ended up finishing what he started when he tried to protect Wei Ying the first time. Beside him, his beloved shrank at his elder’s words like a chrysanthemum dying in the frost. No. This was wrong. 

“Is that your final word, Grandmaster Lan?”

Lan Qiren froze at the formal title. Wangji hoped his message was clear, but he was willing to go farther if necessary. 

The man who raised him and turned against him, stroked his beard as his eyes darted from him to Wei Ying and back again. 

“And if I say yes, what will you do, Wangji? Leave your sect, your clan for this supposed love? You are young. I do not trust your feelings in this matter.”

“Uncle,” Xichen said as he stepped forward, trying to placate both of them. “I know this is difficult for you to accept, but I have already given my blessing to Wangji and Wuxian.  I have also seen how deeply they care for each other. Uncle, you know Lans only love once. Please, do not commit to that which you cannot take back.”

“I will not be threatened, Xichen. You may be our sect leader, but I am the head of our household. It is my responsibility to ensure you and your brother make matches beneficial to both you and this sect. For Wangji to not only connect himself permanently to a boy from such dubious parentage, but bring along children from who knows where, is unacceptable.”

Beside Wangji, Wei Ying stiffened at the mention of his parents, his eyes flashing with anger. He squeezed his beloved’s hand to help him calm down.

“That is your final decision.”

“That is my final decision. The children may stay as disciples or servants depending on their potential, and Wei Wuxian may stay the night. I expect him to leave in the morning.” He turned and left, his hands behind his back and head held high. 

“Wangji, I’ll talk to him,” Xichen offered with a heavy sigh. “Give him a little time.”

He faced his brother, his arm around Wei Ying’s waist. “Until then, I will take my family somewhere safe.”

“They are safe here. I promise.”

Wangji wanted to believe him, but he wouldn’t take that chance. “Mn. I will meet you in Qinghe, Xiong-Zhang.”

He and Wei Ying went to the dining hall to retrieve their children. On the way, his beloved remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. He stopped them before the doors and cupped Wei Ying’s face in his hands. 

“This choice I make is mine alone. I will not live another life regretting leaving you for my sect. We both promised to live without regret and protect those who need us. Please, allow me to do so.” 

Wei Ying met his gaze, his silver eyes wide until they shifted as he smiled. He leaned his forehead against Wangji’s. “You are so stubborn. I love you so much.”

“Mn. Love Wei Ying too.”

Despite Nie Huaisang’s protests, he and Wei Ying took the children and left Cloud Recesses. The pain in Xichen’s eyes as he said goodbye to the children hurt. Hopefully, his brother would come out stronger through their separation.

By the time they reached the Burial Mound, a-Miao was asleep and the boys almost unable to stand anymore. Using borrowed swords was a tiring chore he was ready to finish. 

After they crossed the wards and entered the settlement, the first person to notice them was Wen Qing.

“Wuxian? Wangji?” she gasped, rushing toward them. “We weren’t expecting you. Is everything all right?”

Wei Ying blinked at her. “Wow, Qing-jie. It’s almost like you missed us.”

The stern frown came back to her face. “Right. You can go now.”

Wangji chuckled inside as the two teased each other on their way to their home. Their home. Yes. This was good. 

Chapter Text

“Uncle, I can’t believe you did that,” Lan Xichen said as he came back into his elder’s office and kept a tight rein on his anger and disappointment. 

Qiren put down his brush and smoothed out the paper in front of him. “Xichen, your brother is being foolish and rebellious. I will not allow him to throw away his future for a momentary lapse in judgement.”

Xichen almost laughed out loud at that. “Momentary lapse? Wangji has been drawn to Wei Wuxian since the moment he saw him, and that has only grown into love since then. This is what he wants. He is happy, happier than I have ever seen him since Mother died.”

“Happy?” His uncle huffed. “How can he be happy with that - troublemaker?”

The disdain in his voice distressed Xichen. He knelt across from his elder. “Just why do you have such a jaded opinion of Wei Wuxian? I have never seen you be so harsh or dismissive with anyone else?”

Uncle took a moment before speaking, a myriad of emotions flitting over his face. “You are still young, Xichen. There are many things, many decisions in life that must be made, especially as a sect leader, that are for the good of those under your care. While I will not deny that Wei Wuxian is gifted in many ways, he has certain inherent weaknesses of character that will always be detrimental to those around him. He, like his mother, is the type of person who draws others in while it suits them, and lets them go just as easily. What happiness will your brother have when, not if, Wei Wuxian moves on to someone else? And he will - just as his mother did. That type of person is driven by their need to avoid boredom. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that disastrous night hunt, which got them killed, hadn’t been instigated by Wei Changze’s need to entertain her in order to keep her.”

“Uncle! That is unfair!” 

“No!” He slammed a hand onto the table. “People like her are careless and reckless. They blow through other people’s lives passing judgement and acting affectionate without any regard for the damage they do. I will not let that happen to your brother. He is smart. He will come to his senses and let this - this upstart go. The troublemaker is reaching beyond his station just because it suits him at the moment. He is nothing, but a selfish pretender, who only thinks of the moment - never giving thought to the future and what his actions might do to others. Look at those children he’s latched onto. Do you honestly think he’ll give any thought to them once he’s bored of playing parent? Then what? One night he disappears to go chase some other whim, leaving your brother and those innocent children to deal with the hurt. That’s what will happen, Xichen. Don’t be naive in thinking the future holds anything brighter than pain and loss when it comes to the child of Cangse Sanren.”

Xichen stared at him, stunned into silence. Just what had happened between him and Wei Wuxian’s mother? How many of their own rules had his uncle broken in that little speech? The number was too high for him to list. He rose, his head starting to ache.

“Well, you had better hope Wei Wuxian is different because, as his sect leader, I already gave them my permission and announced the engagement to the rest of the sects.”

“Xichen! No!” his elder shouted, aghast. 

“It is done, Uncle. And cannot be changed. I am sorry, but I will not lose my brother to your resentment. I love you both. You are the only close family I have, and I hope the future is better than the one you presented.”

“The elders will not allow this!” he insisted, his face almost purple with rage.

Swallowing the lump sticking in his throat, Xichen took a moment to shut out any thoughts of giving in. “I am sect leader. The final decision lies with me, and I have already decided. We are at war, Uncle. Our sect already has much to rebuild. It is time to let go of what was before we lose what is.”  

He left his uncle sputtering in indignation. It was the first time in his life he neither capitulated nor negotiated to please his elder. The defiance left him shaking. He had always relied on the wisdom and guidance of the council of elders and his uncle to see him through, to keep him from making mistakes. Still, there were times when he questioned their decisions, when he questioned the number of rules they lived by. Was it really right, was it really their responsibility to govern others to such a degree that it invaded their personal lives? 

Wangji was considered the perfect disciple, the ultimate embodiment of the rules. 

Yet, many thought him cold and unfeeling. Wei Wuxian was the first to see more. He thought of the sincere devotion in the former Jiang’s eyes and dismissed the idea that their relationship was a whim. 

If the final outcome of living strictly by their rules was a life devoid of emotion or any sort of outward personality or uniqueness, was it worth it? Did such minute control really benefit anyone other than those in control? And what of their adherence to rules? Did ‘obey your elders’ mean they were always right? What about when the elders themselves broke the rules? 

No. People had good intentions; he firmly believed that. The consequences of doubting that poked at the buried questions surrounding his mother’s life and death. He couldn’t afford to go there, not now.

Exhausted and in need of a quiet cup of tea, he retreated to the hanshi and shut the door to the rest of the world.

After all the greetings and hugs, Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan, and the children followed Wen Qing to one of the houses removed from the rest. It was a bare, but pretty place of black wood and blacker bamboo with a stone foundation. The covered front porch was big enough for a couple of stools and space for children to play. Inside, they found a pleasant reception area with three rooms off to the left and another to the right. Plenty of light filtered in through square windows equipped with solid shutters on both sides. 

“You arrived a little earlier than we expected, so we haven’t managed any furniture yet,” she said as she led them through a kitchen area in the back. “There’s a bathing room just over there -” she pointed to the left -”and a garden out this way.” 

They exited out a back door into a large space for kids and more. Wei Ying came to a standstill, blinking rapidly to keep from spilling tears. Beside a patch of tilled earth, was a muddy pool just perfect for lotus plants.

“I figured I might as well give in right away and avoid any arguments about potatoes. Wen Ning already planted some. They should start to sprout in a week or so.” 

He turned toward her. “Qing-jie,” he managed softly before wrapping her in a hug. It took several minutes before either of them parted. 

She sniffed and frowned at him, wiping furiously at her eyes. “Don’t you dare scold any of your children over those lotus plants. If they’re so precious, build a fence.”

He lifted up three fingers. “I promise. Thank-you.” 

She hugged him again, more fiercely than before. “Thank-you too.” When she let go, she smacked him on the arm. “Now, get this house together. A-Ning should be here with a-Yuan and Ziyi soon. And no more adopting anymore kids for a while. Pretty soon there won’t be room left for anyone else.” Without another word, she hurried away.

Wei Ying gave his husband a side hug and guided their family inside.   

“Is this really our home?” Meilin asked while a-Tong led Yinmiao from room to room. 

“Yes,” he said, patting the boy on the head. “It’s all ours.”

A quiet knock on the door let them know a-Ning had arrived. Wei Ying rushed over and let him in, scooping Ziyi in a tight embrace and raining kisses on her shining face as she yelped in half-hearted protest. Lan Zhan took a-Yuan in his arms, the baby curling his pudgy fingers around his hair ribbon. 

“And these two are your new siblings,” he announced as the other two came back into the main room. “Ziyi, these are your new brothers, Meilin and Xiaotong, and your new sister, Yinmiao. You three, this is your new sister, Ziyi, and your new brother, a-Yuan.”

The two toddler girls waddled toward each other, eyes glued to one another. In a second, they both squealed and wrapped themselves in a hug, giggling with delight. The boys came over with big smiles and happy laughter as they cooed over their new baby brother.

A-Tong made some hand signals to Meilin. 

“He wants to hold a-Yuan,” the younger boy said as the baby caught his finger.

“Mn. Sit.” 

The brothers did as instructed, and Lan Zhan placed a-Yuan in a-Tong’s lap. The boy automatically moved his arms to support his little head properly.

“Someone’s been around babies,” Wei Ying said, enjoying the scene.”

“We had a baby brother,” Meilin explained while Ziyi and a-Miao decided to cuddle up beside them. “When we lost Mother and Father, Wen Ruohan took us in as scouts. We had to leave a-Hui behind. We don’t know what happened to him.”

Wei Ying was pretty certain the whole world could hear his heart breaking. A small whimper escaped from Lan Zhan, and they held each other close. The vow to save these children from more suffering and loss unspoken between them. 

“M-maybe we’ll f-find him,” A-Ning said, his face a portrait of sorrow. 

They all sat in silence for a while, each one watching the youngest ones fuss and chatter with each other, unaware of the greater horrors in the world. 

“Hello?” called Uncle Four as he appeared in the doorway with a bundle of material. “Not to intrude, but we come bearing furniture.”

“Come in, come in,” Wei Ying managed, pushing aside his sadness. 

Before he could stand, a stream of people flowed in and out, bustling about with beds and other things to make their place more comfortable. 

“Where did all this come from?” Wei Ying asked a-Ning, amazed at the joyous energy and generosity of his Wen family.

“P-popo had everyone g-gather up w-whatever they had that w-wasn’t in use,” his didi responded as Ziyi and a-Miao decided to climb all over him. 

“Don’t worry, a-Xian,” Popo declared, joining them with a basket filled with dishes. “Now, a-Zhan, if you don’t know how to cook, I’ll teach you, but only if you swear to keep that pot burner away from the kitchen,” she added, nodding her head in Wei Ying’s direction. 

“Hey, I can…I’m not…” He gave up as everyone in the room gave him a look of disbelief. “Oh, fine. I’ll just keep to my corner.”

Even his husband huffed a laugh at him for that. He rubbed the back of his neck, giving him a rueful grin. His beloved took the basket from Popo and gave a small bow.

“I would be honoured to learn from you, Laoshi.”

She chuckled and waved a hand at him. “Oh, you young people. So formal. Come on. We’ll get some supper going.”

Wei Ying let his husband go, delighting in the love growing between him and the rest of the Wen family. If only there wasn’t a war to deal with, they could pretend all was well. This was home, and he didn’t want to leave. Yes, he still wanted to travel, but he wasn’t in a hurry. 

“Wei Ying, what are you doing on the floor while everyone else is working?” a-Qing asked, coming through the door with a bundle of clothes. She dropped them on his lap before scooping a-Yuan up and pulling a milk jar from her sash. “This one needs feeding.”

As she knelt beside him, he handed the garments to the boys. “You two take the middle room. Okay?”

“Can’t the girls stay with us too?” Meilin asked as a-Tong tugged on his sleeve.

“Oh, maybe for the first few nights until everyone is comfortable. How does that sound?” 

A-Lin said, “Yes,” while his brother’s happiness shone in his amber eyes. They scampered away with the two girls skipping along behind them.

“You realise technically, you and your Lan are only seven or eight years older than Xiaotong, right? Shouldn’t they be your brothers instead of your children?”

He snorted in disagreement. “We’re young in body and old in soul.”

She huffed a small chuckle. “Maybe Wangji is, but you’re a child. You always were and always will be.”

“That’s why you love me,” he answered and shuffled away before she could pinch him. 

Qing-jie passed him a-Yuan. “Here. burp him and change him. We put his underthings in your room along with his basket. I’m going to go help with the food.”

Wei Ying sighed and held a stinky baby out in front of him. “Ah, my radish, how would you like to be the first baby to be potty trained before you can crawl?”

In true form, his little one burped at him, regurgitated milk dribbling down his chin. Sighing again, he did his duty and went to his room to clean up his infant. 

One of the aunties was just finishing up with the bedding when he came in. She smiled at him and put her hands up as she left the room, obviously bowing out from offering any help.

“It’s just you and me, kid,” he whispered as he lay his boy down on a cloth on the floor. 

A-Yuan gurgled at him, his limbs waving about. Wei Ying wiped his chin before removing his soiled clothes. Before he could wrap on a new diaper, a fountain spurt forth, nearly catching him in the face. Oh, perfect. He sponged him clean again and dressed him before anything else expelled out of the tiny body. After he placed the soiled garments in an empty basket he assumed was there for that purpose, he sat on the bed and rocked a-Yuan asleep, singing a lullaby he learned his first time around.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan called, a soft smile on his lips as he came in and noticed the sleeping child in his arms. He took a-Yuan from him and laid their son in his basket. The baby puffed out a bit of air and smacked his lips together before settling back to sleep. Before Wei Ying could fall back on the bed, his husband pulled him up and kissed him. “Food.”

With a low groan, he let Lan Zhan tug him into the main room where several Wen had gathered for a celebratory meal. 

“Did you know that babies are fountains?” he mumbled as he leaned against his beloved’s side. “Everything just spurts out from everywhere.”

Later that evening, when everyone had gone and all their children had finally settled down for the night, the silence hit Wei Ying hard. This was all too good to be true. He didn’t deserve such a blessed life. 

The first time through, the Burial Grounds was his hell, the place where he destroyed himself just to survive. That time around, he didn’t have the power to subdue the resentful energy torturing him. He didn’t understand the various levels to the dead - one was either at peace and rejoined the reincarnation cycle, or descended to the Dark City, or wandered among the living, driven by their anger and resentment for one thing or another. Some moved on easily; others refused, becoming monsters wreaking havoc within living society. After three months, he understood things were more complicated than that. 

After a few years in the Burial Grounds, he saw cultivating spirits as more than just liberate, suppress, eliminate. Finally, dying had given him perspective from the other side. He remembered existing in a numb state, existing but unable to do, see, or feel anything. That nightmare still haunted him some nights, driving him to do almost anything to confirm he was alive. It was better since he slept with Lan Zhan by his side. His husband’s heartbeat released him from the prison of those dark moments, and they often spent an hour or more reassuring each other that they were alive and together. 

Wei Ying doubted he would ever heal from all the wounds from his previous life. The mistakes he made still haunted him, especially the deaths of Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli. He had lost control no matter who was there or why. Yes, he didn’t trust Jin Zixuan or that other Jin, whatever his name was. Yes, he was surrounded by people who wanted to kill him. Yes, Jin Zixuan shouldn’t have expected him to just step down with so many archers waiting to fill him full of holes. Unfortunately, that did not excuse his response. He lost control. Did he have reasons? Yes, but he could have handled it better. 

He groaned and banged his head against the bedpost. Ah, this was all in the past. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything. Besides, everyone was alive now. All he had to do was make better decisions, better choices and they would stay that way. If they didn’t, at least it wouldn’t be his fault. 

Caught in his downward spiral, Wei Ying jumped when Lan Zhan put a hand on his shoulder. His beloved knelt beside him and wrapped his arms around him, kissing his head and humming their song while he fell apart.

For the next two days, Lan Zhan enjoyed the welcoming kindness of their new family. In the morning, Popo taught him various recipes while Wei Ying spent time with the children outside in the garden. In the afternoon, he took over their lessons while his husband went to his cave to work on talisman ideas. By the time they left, he had a giant pile to help with the war effort. 

After a few hours, they got together again to cleanse more of the Burial Ground. The power Wei Ying had over the dead amazed him. His husband didn’t just send them on their way, he sorted spirits out, cataloguing them as he went. With Lan Zhan’s help, he talked to them like they were alive. He analysed their needs and helped them release their resentment. Some of them just wanted someone to listen to their story. Others wanted to be useful again. Those ones he put to work. Former carpenters built them better homes, farmers took care of the crops, while others made clothes, baskets, or clay pots. They even had a jeweller, two blacksmiths who argued over the best techniques to make the perfect pot, and a group of miners who died during a cave-in. 

At first, they didn’t know what to do with the miners. However, Uncle Four’s wish that they could dig up some gold had Wei Ying send them off to find gold, silver, jade, or anything else precious to supplement their income. No one knew if they would find anything, but it made the miners happy, so why not. 

In their new home, they enjoyed an evening meal with their children before spending time together. Wei Ying entertained them with games and stories, making the children giggle until they were writhing on the floor gasping for air. Once they settled, he and Lan Zhan put them to bed before meeting with Wen Qing and Wen Ning to put work on more information for the war effort. Afterwards, they spent time alone, enjoying each other’s company.

In all, he never wanted to leave.

Two days later, they left the settlement and their home in Wen Qing’s capable hands. Popo insisted on staying in the spare room with the children, so they could settle in properly instead of having to bounce from house to house. They didn’t mind. There was plenty of room.

The children crying almost made Lan Zhan give in. The rest of the world could get along without them. Unfortunately, Wei Ying reminded him they still had some refugees to bring back before anyone discovered they were Wens. 

When they arrived in the Unclean Realm, Xiong-zhang met them at the gates. 

“Wangji, Wuxian, it’s good to see you both.” His expression faltered as he struggled to say something. 

Most people wouldn’t notice, but Lan Zhan understood the miniscule tells they both learned to use growing up. 

“The children are safe with friends,” he said to ease his brother’s concerns. 

“Friends?” he responded before he could stop himself. 

Lan Zhan understood. He didn’t have friends. “Wei Ying’s friends. They are now my friends.”

“Ahh. That’s - that’s wonderful.” The smile on his face said otherwise, but Lan Zhan didn’t want to get into it. 

“Umm. We have some intel to share with you and Nie Mingjue,” Wei Ying interjected. 

Xiong-zhang gave a slight nod and led the way to the Nie office. Lan Zhan kissed his husband before following, thankful for his ability to redirect the situation. Wei Ying giggled and grabbed his hand, skipping with delight as he walked stoically beside his husband. 

Chapter Text

 Pain. Everything hurt from the roots of Wei Ying’s hair to the tips of his toes. He was so tired of pain. Why did it have to come with the memories? Why did his body have to remember too? If it wasn’t for that, he could have put down his alternate life to nightmares instead of events actually lived. 

There were moments when he wasn’t sure. After all, things were so different now. True, they were still at war, but his family was safe, his core still spun joyfully in his dantian, and Lan Zhan loved him. He couldn’t decide what made him happier. 

Yet, as he stood amid the gore with blood seeping into the once fertile ground, he was grateful for the stabbing ache in his muscles, the incessant reminder not all is well. As his blade sank through flesh, muscles, and organs once more, he focused on taking yet another life. How much blood would he bathe in before he drowned? The sooner they ended this, the better. 

As he finished off his last foe, he met Lan Zhan’s steely gaze across the carcass covered battlefield. Gods, the man was beautiful. With his white robes splattered with crimson and billowing in the wind that played with his long strands of hair, he stood, surrounded by carnage, like an ethereal being seeking justice.    

Wei Ying staggered over to him and fell into his arms. They clung together, each other’s haven against such devastation. 

“You hurt?” he asked, inhaling the faint scent of sandalwood still lingering on his husband’s clothes beneath the smell of death.

“No, you?” his beloved answered, his warm breath caressing Wei Ying’s ear.

“Mmm. I don’t think so, though there’s a deep gash in my soul.”

The strong arms around him tightened as Lan Zhan’s chest rumbled. “Mn.” 

The impossibly wonderful man turned them around and steered them back in the direction of their camp. Eventually, Wei Ying pulled away to keep from tripping, but kept their fingers entwined. No, it wasn’t proper, but he wasn’t about to let go of his greatest treasure just to keep some uptight jackass from getting upset. 

“Don’t you have any shame?” Jiang Cheng spat as they came close, his face scrunched in disgust as he leaned heavily on his sword. 

Wei Ying shook his head at his former shidi. “Really? We’re surrounded by blood and guts, and a little hand-holding is what bothers you?” 

“Fucking cutsleeves,” he muttered and stomped away, a couple of equally sour looking cultivators following.

Sighing, Wei Ying let his beloved guide him back to their tent. There were so many other ways things could have gone with Jiang Cheng. They could have held onto their friendship if he wasn’t so mired in his own suffering. Now, with his ties to the Lan sect and no demonic cultivation or Wen remnants dividing them, he could have helped rebuild Yunmeng Jiang without having to be a part of it. The thought made his throat tighten, the pressure of the Jiang leader’s fingers still lingering. That moment was the beginning of the end for them. Whatever made Jiang Cheng stop, he couldn’t say, but it cracked the wall holding back the hatred and resentment built up from their childhood and Madame Yu’s poison. 

Nothing could fix that.

Numb and weary from the latest battle, he and Lan Zhan moved about each other in silence. They saved whatever energy they had left for getting clean and finding food. With supplies low, they made do with plain millet, a tasteless, meagre meal to make a Lan happy. Still, he ate without complaining. 

In his last life, his meals at this time resembled the flesh rotting on the battlegrounds. The mere thought of sinking his teeth into fibrous sinew made his stomach churn. He forced one more spoonful down his throat and turned his mind to other matters.

“I miss the kids,” he said, sprawling back and leaning on his elbows. 

Lan Zhan stacked their bowls on a tray before placing it outside their tent. After, he took a seat behind Wei Ying and set about braiding his hair. “Mn. Yes. Last visit was too short.”

A dry laugh slipped out of Wei Ying. “Too short? A couple of hours hardly qualifies as a visit.”

Tension slithered out of his muscles at the tender ministrations of his husband. Sleepily, he sank down further until he rested his head against Lan Zhan’s lap. 

“Ah, if it wasn’t for the common people and a few select friends, I think I would drag us back to the Burial Ground and hide there until it was all over.”

“No Wei Ying wouldn’t. Wei Ying is too righteous.”

He placed a hand on his stomach, his nausea coming back. “Eh. That is so annoying.”

Lan Zhan bopped the tip of his nose. “No. Wei Ying is righteous; Wangji will hide us instead.”

Chuckling, he tilted his head to peer up at his beloved. “You? The honourable Hanguang-jun is more righteous than the evil Yiling Patriarch. If anyone hides, it’s me.”

“No,” he replied with all the conviction of an immovable mountain. “Wangji hid behind rules and indecision when Wei Ying stood against injustice.”

Before he could come up with a stinging objection, another thought invaded his brain. “Hey, you remember Nie Mingjue trying to sneak into Nightless City and finish off Wen Ruohan the last time?”

“Yes,” his husband replied with trepidation, his fingers pausing in their journey through Wei Ying’s hair. 

Wei Ying giggled at him. “It wasn’t a bad idea, you know. He was just the wrong person to send at the wrong time.”

“Suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Meaning you think Meng Yao sent that information in hopes of luring Nie Mingjue in on purpose? You don’t trust him?” 

Lan Zhan’s hands combed through his hair again. “Do not trust him. Actions during last life concerning.”

Wei Ying rubbed his nose and relaxed into a more comfortable position. “Aiya, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was conniving for his own gains. He is Jin Guangshan’s son, after all. And he smiles too much.”

His beloved peered down at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. 

“Hey, I like smiling, especially when gazing at such beauty.” He grinned and winked, making his Lan’s ears red. “I’ll admit, it’s a habit to hide behind a smile, but usually, mine are genuine. His rarely seem to reach his eyes, even with those disarming dimples. Personally, I don’t know too much about him to know how much he was involved in the disaster that was my last life. I do know that Sect Leader Jin Pimple wanted my amulet. He almost salivated every time I was near him, which is gross. I also got the sense that Meng Yao would do almost anything to gain his father’s approval, and Jin Slime-bucket would do almost anything to win Wen Ruohan’s favour. If my suspicions are correct, it made lots of things make sense. I’m not politically savvy or some great war tactician, but the final battle in Nightless City sure stunk like a trap.”

“Wei-xiong, are you in there?” Huaisang’s voice called beyond the entrance to their tent. 

“Huaisang? What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled back. “Get in here before someone tries to recruit you.”

The Nie swept inside and knelt by their table, arranging a few pillows to make himself more comfortable. “Ah, Wei-xiong, no one would do that. My brother would skin them alive first.” He set about making tea as though it was his home, his fan and sleeve held out of the way with one hand while he poured water with the other. 

“True,” he replied with a chuckle. “Still, I’m surprised to see you in the thick of this mess. Or did you get lost on your way somewhere more enjoyable?”

His friend scowled with distaste. “No. I wanted to check on Da-ge. He worries me with all this slashing and head chopping. His last letter actually expressed emotion.” The fan fluttered in front of his face. “I mean true emotion, not just grumpy disapproval or a grudging comment of affection. What am I supposed to do with that? Next thing you know, he’ll initiate a hug. Da-ge doesn’t hug; he scowls and growls. It upset me so much I had to come here and make sure he wasn’t dying.”

While a warming talisman heated the water, the Nie took out a small satchel and poured some dried leaves into a bowl to grind them. “This is my new favourite; I never go anywhere without it. Da-ge doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t like much. You know, he actually smiled when he saw me? What am I supposed to do with that? Okay, so he turned purple and yelled at me right after, but he smiled like he missed me. That’s like getting a smile out of Lan-er-gongzi. No offence.”

Lan Zhan’s lip twitched ever so slightly, making Wei Ying want to kiss him. His husband’s smiles were just for him and their children. Everyone else could suffer.

“Please, tell me he isn’t dying,” Huaisang whined, his dark eyes huge. 

“Last time I checked, he wasn’t dying,” Wei Ying assured him, reaching out to pat his hand. Though he was harbouring a surprising amount of resentful energy. Maybe that’s what was stirring his emotions. However, there was no way Wei Ying would tell Huaisang that. “I’ve been working on an amulet for him. It’s protective and healing.”

Tears sparkled in Huaisang’s eyes. “Oh, Wei-xiong. You are my best, most wonderful friend.”

“Ah, don’t get too mushy, Nie-xiong. It’s not done yet, and I don’t have much time to work on it.”

“Whatever you need, just ask. Anything, anything at all.” The poor Nie heir sniffed and wiped his face with a handkerchief. “I -” sniff- “I’m so -” wipe, wipe- “it’s all just too much. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

“Enough,” Wei Ying insisted as he sat up. “You’re getting tears in the tea.” He poured a cup and passed it to Lan Zhan before getting one for himself. “What I really want is some information.”

Huaisang’s expression turned innocent. “I will help where I can, Wei-xiong, but I really don’t know much unless you want the latest gossip in the Unclean Realm, but it’s not very interesting.”

Wei Ying took a deep breath, bracing himself for the puppet master to come out. Right now, Huaisang was fairly innocent, content to paint and collect spring books. He could sneak banned material into Cloud Recesses with ease and thrived on gossip, and the skills he learned through those hobbies blossomed when tended by revenge. If only he could leave his Nei friend in his mischievous, beautiful bubble. War and greed left no one untouched. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, his body tingling. The feeling confused him, but he pushed it away to think about later.

“Actually, I was curious about someone who used to serve your family. He accompanied you to Cloud Recesses, I think. His name was Meng Yao, wasn’t it, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

Well, that was helpful. He gave his husband an affectionate smile and tugged on his sleeve. The dear man patted his hand, the affection in his golden eyes softening his stoic expression. Okay, that helped. 

“Meng Yao?” Huaisang asked in surprise and confusion. “What made you think of him?”

Wei Ying shrugged, adopting an easy, careless manner. “Oh, we were just reminiscing about our Cloud Recesses days and I remembered how he caught Zewu-jun’s attention. It made me wonder what he was up to now.”

It must have sounded plausible because his friend relaxed.

“Ah, well, Meng Yao isn’t a part of the Nie sect anymore. He left to join the Jin sect.” He leaned toward them, lowering his voice. “Jin Guangshan is his father. He’s hoping to impress the pig and gain recognition as a proper son. For someone so bright, he’s not very smart in that area. There’s no way the Jin leader will ever accept him. I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted he had to try.”

“Well, miracles happen, I guess.” 

Wei Ying thought about how Meng Yao succeeded in getting his father’s attention. He killed Wen Ruohan and the world proclaimed him a war hero. He became Lianfang-zun, Jin Guangyao, and everyone else suffered under his ambition. If only he had remained Meng Yao, maybe then no one else would have died. Sure, Jin Pig-turd was a horrible man driven by greed and lust, but he was not smart enough to achieve anything. Jin Guangyao was the brains behind the destruction. He used Su She and Xue Yang as his own tools, exploiting their bitterness and hatred for his own gains. Zewu-jun, Chifeng-zun, JIn Zixuan, Shijie, and so many more, all of them destroyed for a sad man’s desire to find affirmation and acceptance.

“Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan’s voice cut through his thoughts.

He blinked and shivered, his core pulsing energy through him like lightning. Everything around him shone with silver, shifting as images folded over each other - Lan Zhan aged, his being soaked in sorrow, Huaisang too, though he fluctuated between a whimpering fool and a shrewd fox. 

A hand touched his shoulder, making him jump. 

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan called again. 

More blinking cleared his eyes, and he managed a reassuring smile for his worried husband. 

“Sorry, sorry. Lost in thoughts,” he said and managed to turn the conversation to other topics more suited to a pleasant visit.

Despite Wei Ying’s efforts, his beloved still watched him with lingering concern. He couldn’t blame him. Whatever happened set him on edge. So many strange images interrupted his thoughts. 

It was all Jin Guangyao’s doing.

Why did he know that? How did he know that? When he died, Jin Guangyao was just another person, someone irritating, but okay.

Nie Huasang worked behind the scenes to bring him down, driven by his brother’s death by Lianfang-zun’s hand.

What the hell? How did he know this? How did he know Huaisang was a puppet-master? None of this made sense. Maybe he was losing his mind? He was so tired, and his body hurt, his head hurt. He placed his hand on his silver core. Just what happened when he gained his memories and lost the Yin sword? 

Before he could think it through, he slumped against his husband. Their voices faded away, and he rested in a darkness that hid him away from time.    

Chapter Text

Everything was black except for the white light in the centre. Wei Ying stared at it. He couldn’t help it. Then it drew closer, and he started to panic. The intensity of power flowing from the thing nearly overwhelmed him. He fell to his knees, though he could not tell what was underneath him. 

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, instinctively reaching for safety.

Multi-layered laughter echoed around him, some voices playful and lighthearted, others terrifying, dragging his thoughts back to the first months in the Burial Ground.

Okay, if that was what this was, he could handle it. After all, he had done so before. 

“What do you want?” he asked, weary of being manipulated by humans, heavenly beings, and monsters alike.

More laughter. Well, that was annoying.

“We do not want anything. It is you who summoned us.”

Of course. It’s always his fault. Despite his shaking legs, he managed to rise. If he was going to die again, he wanted to do it on his feet. Then again, maybe he was already dead. 

No. That couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t leave Lan Zhan again. They had a family now. No, this was something different. 

“Have you figured it out yet?” the voices asked in a mocking tone.

He stuck his tongue out at the light. “Some of it. You are the collective spirit of the Burial Ground.”

“Partially.”

Partially. Well, fifty percent was better than nothing. Oh, he had to stop thinking that way. 

“Okay, that’s a place to start.” He rubbed at the side of his nose. “Let’s see. You are part of the Burial Ground, but more, I think. You actually feel familiar, but is that just the Burial Ground part of you or something else?”

He closed his eyes and reached out with his spiritual energy. The steady stream of silver merged with the light, surprising him with the easy acceptance as though the two were one and the same. 

“If you’re my conscience, you should have spoken up earlier. My life is already a mess. At least, my last life was or is.” He rubbed at his temple, strange memories invading his thoughts. 

“Was or is, does it matter?”

Oh, ugh. They were getting philosophical as well as cryptic. “Well, it does to me. I’d like to keep my lifetimes straight. I have enough trouble with my memory as it is without throwing in things that never happened in this life. Even talking about it is confusing.”

“Time doesn’t mean anything to us. We have lived and died and lived again.”

Perfect. A throbbing ache bloomed in the back of his head and slowly radiated forward. “Okay, let’s go back to the beginning. First, am I dead or alive? I think I’m alive, but one never knows.”

“Yes.”

“Yes. I am dead and alive. Makes sense. I’ve often wondered if I survived the streets or if I was just a ghost wandering about in one of the levels of hell.”

The light pulsed brighter, swirling around him like a warm bath. “You are alive even though you died.”

“Ah. Okay. Second, you are part Burial Ground, fine. However, my core energy recognises you; therefore, you are also a part of me. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Oh, that was great. He’s part of a glowing orb with a multitude of entities floating about in the dark. Well, it was always nice to be a part of something. Yet, there is still something more, something familiar too. 

“Hmm. Third question, you consist of a bit of the Burial Ground, me, and?”

“And? Is that a question or did you lose your train of thought?

He snickered. Of course this thing is snarky. “Other than those two energies, I feel something else. It’s familiar too. Is that energy from my alternate life or something else?”

“Your energy is your energy. It does not change from one life to the next. Wei Ying is Wei Ying.”
“So, I take it that’s a no on the alternate life.” He pursed his lips and tapped a finger against them for a moment. What could it be if it was familiar to him, but not him? Wei Ying is Wei Ying - Lan Zhan? No, but close. It’s not him, but, somehow, he’s connected. 

Ahhh, this wasn’t helping the pain splitting his brain into pieces. 

Pieces. 

He shivered. Gods, his life was strange. 

“Fourth question, are you a part of the yin sword?”

The voices giggled and squealed while streams of light whirled around in a celebratory dance.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. We knew you would get it. What does it mean? What does it mean?” The question echoed over and over.

What does it mean? How should he know? Resentful energy, yin energy, righteous energy, yang energy - if he put it all together, what did he get? He placed his hand on his core as it throbbed, making his whole body shake. Oh. His core. 

“Are you my core?” He forced the words out, unsure if he was excited or terrified. 

More laughter, bright and joyous. “Yes, yes, yes, we are.”

He stumbled backward, lightheaded. “How?” 

“It was you. Time means nothing. It was all you. The array, the memories, the sword - you mixed us all together. You tore yourself out of time, you, your love, your lost one. You brought everyone back.”

Wei Ying fell back to his knees, coughing as his chest tightened. “Lan Zhan and Qing-jie? That doesn’t make sense,” he gasped, finding it hard to breathe. “They came back before I made the array.”

“Time means nothing. Time means nothing.”

The voices and the light faded, the pain becoming more than he could bear. He went under, retreating into the darkness. Then another voice cut through, low and anxious.

“Wei Ying.”

Despite himself, he opened his eyes, wincing in preparation for another bright light. Instead, he was greeted by the glorious sight of a pair of golden eyes framed by long, dark lashes. 

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he managed before turning to the side and emptying his stomach. 

“A-Ning, make tea,” the curt voice of his dearest doctor ordered. 

He managed a weak grin as he peered through tangled strands. Lan Zhan pulled his hair back and wiped his face with a damp cloth. The cool material felt good against his tight skin. His beloved slipped behind him and eased him back onto his chest. Wei Ying nestled into the safety of his sweet Lan’s embrace. He didn’t even care when Qing-jie grabbed his wrist.

“You are intent on scaring people, aren’t you?” she said, frowning at him like a mother upset with her naughty child.

He giggled, unable to stop himself. “Oh, you have no idea.”  

A-Ning appeared beside her, passing over a cup of tea. He nodded at Wei Ying, his face pale and eyes underlined with the purple colouring from lack of sleep. 

“Drink it all,” Qing-jie ordered, thrusting the cup at him.

He tried to take it, but his hands shook too much. Lan Zhan held the tea for him, holding it to his lips. It smelled terrible. Her medicines always did. He would have refused or downed it quickly, but his beloved made him sip a little at a time, prolonging the horrible experience.

“Hot,” Lan Zhan said with a kiss to his temple.

Wei Ying wanted to complain, but the kiss was nice, so was the warmth radiating from Lan Zhan’s body.

His dearest sister let go of his wrist, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Well, your core is stable again. I suspect you just overdid it, exhausted yourself.”

“How long was I out?” he asked after finishing the vile liquid.

The three of them glanced at each other. Oh, they all looked so tired.

“A week,” Qing-jie told him. “A-Ning and I arrived here the day after you fainted. Wangji actually managed to leave your side long enough to bring us here himself.”

His beloved’s arms tightened, and he nuzzled closer. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” He paused as his head throbbed. “Okay, someone is using my brain as a paddle-drum. Once they stop, I’ll be fine.”

She peered into his eyes, and he tried not to blink. After a few seconds of her intense gaze, the tension inside him spilled out in giggles. Several minutes of uncontrollable laughter later, his ribs hurt and he was gasping for breath. Tears started to flow as he buried his face in Lan Zhan’s shoulder.

“Oh, gods,” he finally managed, his lungs heaving. “Can’t stop.”

A light hand stroked his head. “You’ll be alright,” Qing-jie said, “You just need time and rest.”

“Ahhh, time. Right.” He sniffed, wiping at his nose. “Time doesn’t exist. It all mixes together in a weird mess of life and death, yin and yang.” 

Another round of laughter and tears bubbled up, leaving him limp in Lan Zhan’s arms. He glanced at his family through watery eyes. Oh, they looked so concerned. If only he could gain control of himself, he would explain. He would set their worries at ease if only he wasn’t so tired. 

A low, rumbling tune soothed him as Lan Zhan hummed their song. He closed his eyes and let himself sleep. 

Chapter Text

When Wei Ying woke again, he cursed the sunbeams insistent on making his eyeballs try and burrow their way into his brain. This was worse than a hangover, and he didn’t even get the pleasure of a night of heavy drinking. He pulled his sleeping husband’s arm over and hid his face under Lan Zhan’s hand. 

Mmn, this was cozy. As he snuggled closer into his beloved’s embrace, he realised he was happy, safe, and warm. 

Sure, they were in the middle of a war, his family was in hiding from the rest of the cultivation world, and his core was a snarky, mixed entity who chatted in multiple voices, but he was happy despite his aching head; foul, dry tongue, and tortured nerves. He could work with this. All he needed was tea.

A soft knock on the entrance to their tent interrupted his contented moment. Was it really a knock if it was against soft cloth? Wasn’t it more of a push or a poke? Maybe they should hang a board outside, so visitors could actually knock. Sure, one could knock on one of the supports, but… 

The hand over his face went from limp to firm, sending Wei Ying’s brain on a whole other thought path. 

“Ungh, enter,” his beloved called in a delightfully sleepy voice.

Wei Ying cursed whomever dared to intrude. He burrowed under the blankets, seeking out the heat Lan Zhan left behind after removing himself from their nest. 

“I- ah, b- brought b- breakfast,” a-Ning said in his soft, gentle tones. 

Sighing, Wei Ying took back his dark, demonic insults.

“And Wei-xiong’s m- medicine.”

May your turnips always be bitter, he threw back silently. 

“Mn, thank-you,” Lan Zhan replied. “How is Qing-jie?”

“G- good. She is st- stronger than anyone I kn-know. A few unkind w- words and unk- kind glares d- don’t bother her.”

Wei Ying threw back his blanket and shot up. “Who’s being unkind to our jiejie?”

Lan Zhan grabbed his hand and pulled him onto his lap in front of the low table. “Breakfast.”

He growled in return. “Answer the question.”

His husband gave in, but not before stuffing a spoonful of congee in Wei Ying’s mouth. “Some of the soldiers are uncomfortable with Wens in the camp. They have been dealt with.”

Despite the mound of grains rolling around in his mouth, he swore. His gaze scanned the tent, searching for his dizi or sword or anything he could throw at those who dared to hurt his sister. 

His betrothed wiped Wei Ying’s chin. “Calm. Chew. No choking.”

“Why,” he swallowed and cleared his mouth with a gulp of tea, “why are you two even still here? You’re supposed to be safe in the settlement.”

Guilt rolled over him at a-Ning’s sad, pout face. 

“You needed us,” Qing-jie answered for their didi. She joined them with a graceful flurry of plain robes. 

Any indication of her affiliation to the Wen sect was gone. Still, there was no hiding her characteristic Wen features, the rounder face and large eyes. She was beautiful and a genius and deserved so much more. 

Wei Ying slumped under the intensity of her gaze. “I would have woken up eventually.”

Her eyebrows flicked upward in an exasperated expression. “Ah, huh. Your core was in disarray.”

“My core is a menace,” he muttered without thinking.

All three of his family frowned at him in disapproval. He groaned and waved a dismissive hand. “Aiya, if you knew what I know, you would agree.”

Qing-jie picked up a cup and took a sip. “Why don’t you tell us what you know,” she said after, her tone controlled. 

He chuckled softly. “You probably won’t believe me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. He says to two people who already lived and died before.”

“Aiya, that whole time travel thing was my fault,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lan Zhan gave him a light, comforting squeeze. “How?”

“Well, my dear, delightful love, it seems when you mix a golden core with resentful energy and yin iron in an experimental array created after a long night of scribbling out theories, it twists time and space around to create a series of paradoxes, which lead to a hybrid core, confusing memories, and mouthy voices mocking me with cryptic puzzles.”

They stared at him. He didn’t expect much else. He would stare at himself if he could. 

His dearest sister put down his cup and folded her arms in front of her chest, her hands hidden in her sleeves. “Wei Wuxian…” She shook her head. “I really don’t know what to do with you. Do you think you could explain with less cynicism and more coherent details?”

He went limp in his betrothed arms. “Fine. Before I drifted off into the black abyss, I started having strange, memory-like thoughts.”

“Like?” Lan Zhan asked.

“Ah, like you raising a-Yuan after the fall of our settlement, and the death of Nie Mingjue,” he told them, trying to recall more. “If these thoughts were memories, they were events that happened after I died. But since we came back in time, or rather, you two came back, these events never happened at all.”

She pressed her lips together like she did when pondering mysteries. “Okay, so strange memories, what happened after that?”

He glanced up at his betrothed. “I’m gonna need wine after this.”

“Mn,” he replied with a peck on the forehead.

Mn, well, that would do for now. “Once we joined in the war effort, I started using my core more; the more I used it, the more memories popped in my head.”

“Should have told me,” Lan Zhan said, pinching his side.

Wei Ying stifled a squeal. “I was going to, but it was all so confusing and we were knee deep in fierce corpses and murderous soldiers,” he answered with a sheepish grin. “Then I lost consciousness and things got weird.”

Qing-jie snorted, whether in amusement or derision, he wasn’t sure. “Weird, how?”

He exhaled, trying to sort out just how to explain his conversation with his core/resentful energy/yin iron. He really needed to give it a name. That would require some thought. Subian was fine for his sword, and Chenqing was his best yet, but his hybrid core needed something profound. Either that or silly. He could work with silly. All of this was silly.

“While I was unconscious, I had a conversation with my core slash whatever.”

“You had a conversation with your silver core,” Jiejie repeated flatly.

“Yep.”

“You’re right. We’re gonna need several bottles of wine after this.”

He grinned at her and giggled. She truly was one of his favourite people.

“Don’t get all gleeful. One bottle, two at most, is enough for you.”

Wei Ying made a face at her. Maybe not so favourite. 

“W- what did your c-core say?” a-Ning asked as though it was a normal thing.

“Lots and nothing, really. Huohua is not exactly straightforward in conversations.”

Qing-jie’s eyebrow twitched. “Sparkle?”

“Well, I gotta name it something. It’s not a golden core, and it has some sort of sentience. I can’t just keep saying it,” he replied with a shrug.

“So you went with sparkle?”

“Eh, it’s a start. Huohua does sparkle. Actually, it’s more of a pulsing, silver cloud. Maybe Xingxing is better.” He tapped his lips. Star wasn’t bad. He could work with that.

She rubbed the space between her eyes as though she was getting a headache. “Anyway.”

“Right. Anyway, according to Xingxing, my golden core bonded with the yin blade and resentful energy from the Burial Ground. How that worked, I don’t know yet. Somehow, this combination triggered some sort of disruption in time, hurdling you two into the past before I even performed the experiment.” He held up a hand to stop any comments or questions. “And before you ask, I have no idea why it affected you two specifically or why you came back first. Xingxing wasn’t very forthcoming either. All they would say was, “Time means nothing.” Annoying, useless answer that is.”

“Time means nothing. You said that when you woke up. Not helpful.”

He snickered and massaged his temple. If only this headache would subside, he might think clearer.

“I’ll get you something for your head,” his sister said with her gift for diagnostics at full power. 

Wei Ying gave an appreciative nod. “That’s about all I have right now. I think I’m going to have to meditate with my core to find out more. In the meantime, I’ll try and write down any of the extra memories I’ve had. They may be nothing, but who knows.”

“Rest first. A-Ning, will you stay with Wei Ying while I meet with Xiong-zhang? He is worried,” Lan Zhan said before plopping Wei Ying back on the bed and wrapping blankets around him. 

Stay warm. Stay here. The message was clear. He didn’t know whether to be offended or tickled by the care. 

A-Ning settled on a pillow beside the bed, and Wei Ying handed him a book. It wasn’t a spring book, but it was a good story. His didi took it with an expectant look. Wei Ying whined and pulled the blanket over his head. 

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng spat on the ground and turned away from the battlefield. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He used to be stronger than this. It was his promise, his destiny. Fate was mocking him with this mediocre core. 

If he ever came across that Boshan witch, he would teach her her place. He was the leader of a great sect. Yes, he had to rebuild it. That wasn’t his fault. That bloody traitor ruined his family. If only Wei Wuxian hadn’t joined their family. He should have fed him to the dogs on that first day. Sure Boshan Sanren was the one who took him from the Jiang sect, but it was Wei Wuxian’s ridiculous idea to pretend in the first place. Why didn’t she punish him instead? Why didn’t she give him the weak core? 

Jiang Cheng headed to the healers’ tent, his bleeding leg causing him to limp. 

Where was that bastard, anyway? Probably with his cutsleeve protector. He snickered, a low, bitter sound. Leave it to a street rat to submit to anything to rise beyond his station. 

“Sect Leader, our troops are outnumbered, should we fall back?” his new deputy asked, the large man panting with effort as blood ran down the side of his head.

“Yeah,” he snarled. “Let the Nie and Jin throw themselves away. Regroup and tend to the wounded.”

The man bowed and left to follow his orders. As a former mercenary, he wasn’t too bad in battle, a little rough around the edges, but ruthless with his blade. That’s just the type of cultivator Yunmeng Jiang needed. Children were useless unless he trained them properly. 

He shook his head. His mother was right. All this time, he listened to others tell him to be kind, have fun, relax. Well, what did that get him? Nothing. He lost his family because of misplaced compassion. That mistake would never happen again.

“A-Cheng,” his sister called with worry as he limped into the medical tent.

He commandeered the nearest cot and waited for her to tend his wound. She wasn’t a great healer, but she tried. When he winced at her clumsy attempt at removing his boot without hurting him, he managed a tolerant smile. 

“Sorry,” she said, sponging away the blood and applying herbs to stop the bleeding and cleanse the wound. “This isn’t too bad. It should mostly heal after a night’s rest.”

He took a spare cloth from her and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Ah, huh,” he managed as she chattered on.  A night’s rest, that would be nice, so would a bath, good food, and his old room. 

Things were such a mess. They needed to take back Yunmeng to rebuild their sect. They also needed money. If he didn’t make his mark in this war, they wouldn’t get much of the spoils when it was over. It was already frustrating he didn’t have enough cultivators to be anything more than an auxiliary unit to Jin Zixuan’s battalion. Of course, Jiejie loved that even though that pompous jerk still didn’t give her the respect she deserved. 

He paused in his thoughts. Something Jiejie said caught his attention. “What?” he asked, catching her hand. 

She blinked at him, her face pale with dark circles under her eyes. “I, ah. I said that a-Xia… ah, Wei Wuxian collapsed yesterday, and Hanguang-jun brought in a couple of Wen healers to treat him. I haven’t heard how he is, though.”

“Wen healers,” he growled, his fists tightening as Zidian sparked on his finger. “What-the-fucking-hell? Wens wiped out our home, and those fuckers have the audacity to bring them into our camp to treat that street rat?”

She grasped his forearms and leaned in close. “A-Cheng! I know you’re angry with a-Xian, but…” 

“But what?” he spat, meeting her tear-filled eyes. “The precious orphan faints in battle, and everyone rushes to treat him like a fragile flower? I’m surprised you aren’t by his side with soup and childish words of comfort.”

Guilt pricked his conscience as the tears spilled over and she bowed her head. He put his arms around her in an awkward attempt at comfort. It was wrong to take out his anger on her. She was all the family he had left. It was his job to protect her. 

“I’m sorry, Jiejie. I’m just tired.”

She nodded and brushed a hand against his cheek. “Come, let’s go back to our tent. I’ll get you some food, and you can rest.”

He let her guide him away, his thoughts still focused on the fact that Wens were in their encampment; the enemy was in their space, eating their food and mocking their losses. This was wrong, so wrong it burned. The more he thought about it, the more his guts twisted and his chest tightened. His lower dantian ached as he tried to push for more spiritual energy. 

No, it wouldn’t work.  

He needed to rest and let his body regenerate. 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow, his leg will be fine, and his core replenished. Then he will take care of those Wen-dogs. That self-righteous, cutsleeve Lan probably will try to stop him, but he didn’t care. It made him sick to know those arrogant bastards let Wen-dogs live among them as though they hadn’t ripped apart everyone’s lives. 

Jiang Cheng curled up on his bed, ignoring his sister’s pleas for him to eat. He would rest and recover. Then he would act.

Wen Qing kept her hood over her face as she and her brother followed behind Wangji. Every soldier they passed, watched them with suspicion. They didn’t know who she was, yet they already doubted her presence.  Leave it to Wuxian to drag her into such a mess.

She turned her attention to the ground. They were safe as long as they had Wangji with them, she reminded herself. A shiver ran through her anyway. 

This was too much like her last life. For a moment, she was walking through Koi Tower, head held high as she faced Jin Guangshan and his cohorts. That time, she could ignore the filthy shouts and accusations toward her and her brother. Their bitterness and resentment battered at her spirit as they judged her without evidence, without anything but their own hypocritical superiority. 

Wangji couldn’t do anything to help them then. He did his best, but no one listened. They were too caught up in their own piety and revenge. 

She cast an appraising eye over the man her didi loved with all his heart. Even at such a young age, he had a muscular body that moved with the grace of an ethereal being. He met every curious gaze with one that could cut stone. He radiated cold indifference and confidence.

This wasn’t the same boy who tried to sort out his own stance between his sect and his beloved. The second jade of the Lan knew who he was and what he believed in. She was certain he would stand against the whole world to defend those he loved and believed in. 

This boy was a man she could trust and stand beside. 

He met her gaze as he held part of the tent aside to let her enter. “Do not worry, Jiejie. I will not let anyone harm you this time.”

A tension she didn’t even realise was there, relaxed in her. With a deep breath, she went inside, a little more secure in her situation than before. 

Chapter Text

Wen Qing rubbed her eyes and stretched the stiffness out of her back. After several hours of monitoring her didi’s core, she had no idea how to help him. The energy still ebbed and flowed like waves in a wild storm. Every effort she made to calm the silver chaos failed. The only thing working so far was the sweet song Wangji played until his fingers wouldn’t move anymore. 

Stubborn cultivators. When would they ever learn?

A-Ning gave their Lan brother some cream to sooth his torn skin and ease the weary muscles. He almost refused, but hung his head like a scolded child under her disapproving scowl. That look was one of the greatest lessons she ever learned from her mother. 

She remembered watching intently by her a-niang’s side as she treated common villagers and noble cultivators alike. Her mother’s nut brown eyes shone with mirth as Wen Qing practised making her own admonishing look in the reflection of a bowl of water. 

Oh, how she loved her family. She was proud of her heritage. Did she really want to give that all up? Would her ancestors understand?

After her last life, she was surprised she still asked herself those questions. 

Her parents loved her, as did the rest of her family. As for Wen Ruohan, he wasn’t a bad uncle before greed for power and immortality overtook him. 

The temperamental leader used to take care of his territory, abiding by the tenants of the Wen as set down by Wen Mao, their founder. Many thought he changed after the loss of his wife. Others speculated it was inevitable, a weakness of greed in the family line. To those caught under his tyranny, it didn’t matter why. They just wanted to survive and eke out what life they could without catching the attention of Qishan Wen.    

Unfortunately for her, she lost that choice when she showed promise as a healer. Well, what was she to do, hide her abilities by letting others suffer and die? That went against everything she stood for, everything her parents and ancestors stood for. This was her true family legacy, not the Wen name, colours, or even certain traditions. As scandalous as this was in a society structured on such things, she understood the true core at the centre of her branch clan. 

Therefore, when the time came, she and her family would officially present themselves as Wei to the rest of the world. What cultivation society made of that, didn’t matter. She knew what that meant in her heart, just as she knew who she was and where she came from. 

Wen Qing patted her Wei-didi’s arm as she placed it back down on the cot. “I’ve done what I can for now,” she told the other two. “We’ll just have to keep monitoring him for now and wait for him to wake up. I’m afraid I have learned a great deal about golden cores and even tending to resentful energy in the body, but I know little about silver cores.”

Either she was getting better at reading Wangji’s miniscule expression shifts, or his worry was  so great he couldn’t hide it. 

“The song helps,” she said, trying to ease his thoughts. “He used to play it as a lullaby for a-Yuan during the previous Burial Ground days. I asked him the name of it once, but he said he didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure where he learned it from, but it brought him comfort.”

A knot formed in her throat at the sight of a single tear gliding down the stoic man’s face. She traded a small smile with a-Ning. “You wrote it for him, didn’t you?” 

“Mn,” Wangji managed in a rough voice. 

“Well, it’s beautiful,” she said as she rose and dared to stroke Huanguang-jun’s hair. “Get some rest. You can play it for him again later.”

She made her way over to a corner and grabbed a couple of pillows to make herself as comfortable as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to sleep here. An anxious spouse dragged me out of bed to tend to his beloved. I’d say it’s a romantic story, but I’m too practical for that. A-Ning, get some rest too. Don’t go wandering around.”

“Yes, Jiejie,” he replied with a slight touch of irritated tolerance. 

As she pulled her cloak over her, she chuckled to herself. Her brother had reached that age where mothering had started to chafe. With the blessing of the heavenly beings, they would both survive to see him live to adulthood and beyond.

The next morning Wen Qing made the mistake of stepping outside the tent to clear her head after a fretful night’s sleep. Too many nightmares haunted her being surrounded by so many people who wanted her dead. 

It wouldn’t have been too bad if she had remembered to wear her cloak with the hood up. Unfortunately, the memories that twisted and replayed in her dreams muddled with her thinking. All she wanted was a breath of fresh air, something cool to fill her lungs and settle her. 

The minute she appeared, the soldiers and servants bustling about in the Nie camp stopped and fell silent, staring at her. If only her familial connection to Wen Ruohan and his sons didn’t show so clearly in her features. After an uncomfortable moment, the silence turned to whispers which turned to angry, cruel shouts. Before she could react, an arm pulled her back inside and the broad figure of Lan Wangji appeared in front of her, sword in hand. 

She stumbled back. A-Ning caught her and moved them both to the back of the shelter, his arms around her tight.   

Lan Xichen didn’t mind living in a tent or having to make do with limited supplies. While he missed his favourite tea and the consistency of life in Cloud Recesses, he found the freedom from the watchful eyes of his uncle and the elders a relief. He still had the weight of his clan and his position on his shoulders, but no one was here to judge him for crying over the lives lost or the blood he shed. 

He thought of himself as a patient person. With over three thousand rules to live by, patience was an obvious byproduct. He also thought of himself as compassionate, understanding, and unbiased, but this was war. No matter how hard he tried, every battle, every confrontation - whether lost or won - changed him. 

The one hope he held onto was the possibility life could go back to the way it was before everything fell apart - that he would go back to how he was. 

Not much had changed for Mingjue, but he had been fighting the Wen since his father died. If anything, his best friend had grown in his stern ruthlessness and desire for justice. 

When did justice cross the line to hate-fueled revenge? 

That question burned in him as he stood between his brother and nearly their whole army. The hatred in the eyes of the cultivators and servants terrified him. It made sense, considering the state of their world at the moment, but also overwhelmed him. 

“All right, that’s enough,” Mingjue barked as he joined them. “Get back to training.”

“They’ve got a couple of Wens in there,” a cultivator shouted.

“Yeah, he’s protecting them,” added another, their hands still on their weapons. 

Several more people added their opinions in bitter, angry shouts. They were brave to face Chifeng-zun like that. 

Mingjue’s eyes sparked in surprise, but he quickly shifted to an irritated scowl. “Whatever’s going on, we’ll sort it.” He gestured between him and Xichen. “Go find other Wen-dogs to hunt.”

He met each doubtful gaze with stern force, and they gradually drifted away.  

Xichen released a long-held breath and offered his friend a grateful smile. The frown altering Mingjue’s strong features deepened, but he gave a curt nod. They turned to face Wangji together.

His brother’s demeanour was one he had never witnessed before. The frost radiating off him cooled the air around them by several degrees. He was a stoic person, who most people thought was unemotional. Xichen knew different. He saw the endless pool of emotions Wangji kept in tight control. The only one who had ever affected his unflappable disposition was Wei Wuxian. This had to have something to do with the former Jiang disciple. 

His brother pulled aside the flap entrance which they took as an invitation. Mingjue snorted with disapproval but went inside. Xichen followed, uncertain he wanted to know what they would find.

Chapter Text

Lan Xichen paused for a moment to let his vision adjust to the low light in the tent. Mingjue came in beside him, his stern expression in full disapproval mode. Wangji stood to the side, close to the pair of Wens and near a figure lying still on a cot. That had to be Wei Wuxian. 

But why? He hadn’t heard anything about his brother’s fiance getting injured.

He glanced toward Wangji and was unsettled by what he read in his face. Fear, mistrust, and anger: none of those emotions made sense. Wangji rarely showed fear. He met every situation with the cool calm of a well-trained cultivator. The lack of trust emanating from his brother terrified him. How did he lose the sure faith his younger brother always had for him? Who was he angry with and why? Was this all because of the Wen healers Wangji brought to the camp? The two people in front of them had to be no older than he was. In fact, the boy cowering behind his sister looked no more than fifteen. 

While Mingjue continued to bristle beside him, Xichen put on a polite smile and bowed, hoping to ease some of the tension. “Welcome. I am Sect Leader Lan Xichen.” He gestured toward Mingjue. “And this is Sect Leader Nie Mingjue.”

The young woman’s eyes softened minutely, though her posture remained wary and proud. She glanced over at Wangji before bowing in return. “Thank-you. I am Wen Qing, and this is my brother, Wen Ning, courtesy Wen Qionglin.”

Before Xichen could say anything more, Mingjue turned his fierce glare upon Wangji, who responded by clenching the hilt of Bichen. 

Oh, perfect. That’s what they needed, a fight between Hanguang-jun and Chifeng-zun. He didn’t want to take bets on who would win. 

“Lan Wangji, why are there two Wen in my camp?” Mingjue bit out, his jaw tight.

“Family,” Wangji replied, with just as much fierce determination.

“What?” Mingjue grunted.

“What do you mean, family?” Xichen asked while putting a light hand on his friend’s forearm.

“Qing-jie and Ning-di are Wei Ying’s family; therefore, Wangji’s family. Wangji protects them as Wangji protects Wei Ying and Brother.”

A hissing exhale of air exploded from Mingjue as he turned and began to pace. “You’re telling me that Wei Wuxian is related to these Wen? Since when?”

“Always.”

“Is this true?” Mingjue demanded, pausing in front of the two Wen. “Or is this some damn lie to protect you?”

“Lying is forbidden,” Wangji responded, the temperature in the tent actually dropping a few degrees. 

“If you don’t believe Hanguang-jun, why ask me?” Wen Qing asked, meeting Mingjue’s steely attitude with her own.

Despite their circumstances, Xichen was impressed. Few people could stand against his Nie friend’s powerful disposition. 

“Xian-gege is f-family. Has always b-been f-family,” the boy said, his puppy eyes wide and innocent. 

“Why don’t we all sit down and have some tea?” Xichen said, gesturing to the low table near them. 

Wangji responded with a curt nod and kneeled on one side with Wen Qing while Wen Qionglin busied himself with the small burner and the teapot. Xichen nudged Mingjue, who rolled his eyes, but took the place opposite them, watching every move the Wen boy made.

“He won’t poison you, if that’s what’s worrying you,” Wen Qing snapped with her own roll of the eyes. 

“Ning-di makes good tea,” Wangji said in a tone that brooked no argument. 

Mingjue snorted. If he rolled his eyes once more, Xichen was going to hit the back of his head to put them back in place. 

“I’m sure he does,” he replied instead with a reassuring smile. “If I may inquire, Wangji, what happened to Wuxian. Is he all right?”

“Mn,” his brother said, his brow furrowing. “Collapsed after last battle.”

“Both you and Wuxian fight so fiercely,” Xichen said, worried. “Did he overuse his core?”

Once again, Wangji and Wen Qing exchanged a look Xichen couldn’t interpret. 

“There was a fluctuation from resentful energy in his core that has left it unstable. It will clear up with rest,” she said as her brother came over with the teapot. “I have made him an herbal concoction to strengthen his core and meridians. It is highly effective against the damage done by resentful energy.”

Xichen silently thanked the young Wen for his tea with a tilt of his head. “Ah, yes. Quite a few of our cultivators have run into issues regarding resentful energy. Usually Cleansing works quite well to clear any residue, but it is difficult for those Lan adept at the song to treat everyone.”

“Wangji plays for Wei Ying,” his didi responded, a twitch of his nostrils betraying his offense at Xichen’s words.

“I know you do,” he assured Wangj. “Which is why I am surprised resentful energy overwhelmed Wuxian.”

“Fatigue has left him weak,” Wen Qing explained, her slender fingers curled around her cup. “Xian-di has never understood limits. He always pushes himself, especially when protecting loved ones.”

A loud bang startled everyone as Mingjue slammed his fist against the table, making the tea set rattle. Wen Qionglin squeaked and scurried behind his sister. 

“If you are his family, why did he end up at Lotus Pier,” Mingjue demanded. 

She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes burrowing into his. “If you had the choice between having a child grow up in a place with a benevolent leader or a cruel dictator, who used his own family members for his own benefit, which would you choose? We did not know of his whereabouts until a-Ning brought him and Sect Leader Jiang to me in Yiling after the fall of Lotus Pier. While I am not pleased with his treatment in the Jiang sect, I am glad Wen Ruohan never knew about him. Wuxian is a powerful cultivator. I do not want to think about what the Qishan Wen leader would have done to use him.”

Mingjue worked his jaw as though he was chewing on her words. Xichen took a sip of his tea before speaking again. “When he came to Yiling, that’s when you discovered he is a Wen?”

Her eyes shifted to him. “Cangse Sanren is a title, not his mother’s name. According to my Popo, she was found by Baoshan Sanren when she was a child.”

Something about the way she phrased her answers made him a touch suspicious, but he decided he was being uncharitable to distrust her word, especially when her firm expression remained unflinching. He raised his cup in a toast. “Then I am glad he has been reunited with his family. May your reunion bring joy and blessings to your people.” 

The others raised their cups in response, except for Mingjue, who hesitated until Xichen nudged him. 

“Fine, but it is only due to Wei Wuxian’s participation in this war that I extend clemency to you and your family.” He snapped out the words as though they were choking him. “Though, I suggest you consider changing your name. Not everyone will care who you are related to, only that you are Wen.” 

“We are Dafen Wen, not Qishan Wen. We are healers,” she responded with an upward tilt of her chin.

He leaned toward her. “That may be, but did you do anything to stop Wen Ruohan?”

“Did you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Wen Ruohan has been slowly picking away at the smaller sects around Qishan for a long time, yet not one of the great sects called him on his actions. If a powerful cultivator such as yourself could not stop him, what was someone such as myself supposed to do? I am a healer, dedicated to saving lives. What was my Popo or any of my uncles and aunts supposed to do, charge Nightless City with their hoes and sewing needles? Do not punish the weak for struggling to survive under the tyranny of the strong.”

“Mn, Qing-jie is right,” Wangji said while Mingjue fought to keep himself under control. 

Her words were righteous and true, but would cut deep into his friend’s hatred for all Wen. Xichen never thought about Wen civilians before; he just wanted the war to end. Once it was over, they could work with the other sect leaders to come up with a fair solution to the common people living in Wen territory. In the meantime, he would do what he could to help Wei Wuxian’s family.

“Your family is welcome to take refuge in Cloud Recesses until the war is over,” he offered, ignoring Mingjue’s huffing beside him. 

“Thank-you, Sect Leader Lan, but Wuxian has already provided us with a sanctuary.”

Xichen glanced at his brother. “I see. Is that where the children are?”

“Mn,” Wangji answered, his expression completely blank.

“And you are certain they are safe,” he asked, his fingers playing with the hem of his sleeves.

“Mn.”

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t get much more out of his stubborn brother. “Can I come visit them at some point?”

His didi didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes flicked toward Wen Qing. Another one of those shared looks. When did he lose track of his didi’s life? 

Chapter Text

Wen Qing sighed in relief when the two sect leaders finally left. Her head ached from a long night and ridiculous conversations. She gave Wei Wuxian’s arm a light smack. “When you are better and all this is over, I’m dragging you back to the Burial Mound and keeping you there until you can go at least one week without causing trouble.”

“Mn,” Wangji said, taking his husband’s hand. “Wangji will help.”

She gave him a half-smile and a soft chuckle. “Good. Oh, gods. We’ll have to make sure Wuxian knows about our fabricated connection. I can just see him laughing until he falls over and rolls on the ground.” She pushed her hair out of her face, tidying the strands that came loose. 

“D-do you th-think they b-believed us about Xian-ge’s m-mother?” A-Ning asked, shifting and nervously twisting his hands together. “I-it c-could be t-true.” 

Wen Qing chuckled softly. “We didn’t lie, exactly. Lying is forbidden, after all.” She caught the glint of amusement in Wangji’s eyes. Ah, Wuxian was right; the stoic man did show more than most people thought; all a person had to do is pay attention. “Thank-you for that, by the way, standing up for us and insisting we were family. I… ah… I am honoured to have the great Hanguang-jun as family.”  

“Mn, family.”

The rest of the day had gone without anymore difficulties aside from the odd shout of discontent outside the tent. Wen Qing and her brother stayed inside, tending to their Wei brother while Wangji kept them safe. He brought in food, played his qin, and brought in any supplies they needed. 

Meanwhile, Wuxian remained unconscious. Why, she couldn’t say. His silver core confused her. She tried to probe it with her own energy, but didn’t make much headway. It literally pulled away from her qi like her energy was a contagious disease. 

A-Ning took watch that night, letting her and Wangji rest, though she suspected her Lan didi did more meditating than sleeping. Well, that was better than nothing. 

In the morning, Wangji brought them breakfast again while they went about their morning ablutions. Cleaned and tidy, she checked on Wuxian once more before settling at the low table. Her didi joined her, his hair almost tidy and his robes somewhat together. She took a moment to put him in order while Wangji served them each a bowl of congee. 

“Supplies are low,” he said by way of apology for the meagre meal. 

Wen Qing gave a tight smile, remembering leaner breakfasts. “With Xian-didi’s agricultural talismans, we’ve had some decent sized crops. We could spare a few wagons if we can organise a safe means of transporting them.”

“Mn. Will talk to Brother.” He took his place across from them and at his food in typical Lan silence. 

She grinned to herself. Even after everything they had been through a Lan is still a Lan. Still, she was thankful for the quiet. It gave her a moment to gather her strength and let go of problems that weren’t hers to solve. 

A-Ning poured the tea, his hands shaking slightly.

She took the pot from him and rubbed his hands. “Get some sleep, a-Ning. I’ll make you some of your tonic later.”

He hesitated, his bleary eyes darting from her to Wuxian and back. 

“Don’t worry. He’s fine. He’s just playing lazy bugger and sleeping when he should be working. Now, shoo. Rest for a few hours at least.”

The sweet boy nodded before stifling a yawn and stumbling off to the sleeping mat in the corner. 

Left alone with Wangji, she sipped her tea, letting the warmth soothe her throat.

“So, I guess we should officially adopt the Wei surname to show our allegiance to Wen Ruohan’s enemies,” she said, still wincing a little at the possible slight to her ancestors. No. They would understand. The Wen sect leader was the one who tainted the name, him, his sons, and his cohorts. Maybe one day they could take it back and regain the honour and respectability their ancestors deserved. For now, they would accept the privilege of taking on the name of the person who gave his life for them. 

“Mn. Would supply another level of protection.” 

His golden eyes flicked toward Wuxian, his concern clear enough in his expression, she figured most people could read it. “Wei Ying?”

“So far he is stable. Whatever is going on with his core is sorting itself out as far as I can tell.    

 All we can do is monitor him and wait. I’ll let you play for him again as long as you don’t overdo it. I doubt blood is good for such a fine qin as yours.”

“Mn,” he replied, his attention still on Wuxian’s sleeping form. 

She shook her head and served them both more tea. “Drink and breathe.”

Unsettled, he took the cup from her and stared at the steaming liquid. “Worried. Can’t lose him again.”

“I know,” she responded softly, her own heart concerned for the frustrating boy she would die again for.

“It didn’t help, did it?” she said, her thoughts drifting back to their last days. “We gave ourselves up to protect him. He tried to stop us, but we thought the Jin would keep their word.” A self-mocking, bitter laugh escaped her. “Foolish. By then, it was too late. He was just so happy at the thought of seeing his shiji again, of being a part of that family again. I should have stopped him, kept the invitation from him, something, but the guilt of taking him from his family prevented me.”

“Was never part of Jiang family,” Wangji said in a most unLan like manner. “Not like Dafan Wen family. Family protects, trusts.” He downed his tea and fiddled with the empty cup. “Should have stood by him. Let him down.”

“No,” she replied, her voice low. “There were no easy answers. We were all too young and innocent, playing games with superior opponents. There was no way to win, not for him, not for me and my family, not for you. We lost the moment Wen Ruohan raised his first corpse.”

A knock at their tent frame interrupted their conversation. 

Wangji rose and moved to the entrance in one fluid motion. He pulled the flap aside to reveal a Lan healer and a pair of Nie guards.

Her heart sank. 

Were they here to arrest her and her brother? She slipped her needles from the cuff of her sleeve and tucked them between her fingers. They would not go easily. 

“Sect Leaders Zewu-jun and Chifeng-zun would like Hanguang-jun and Lady Wen to meet with them in the war tent,” the older healer said with a polite bow. She gestured to the guards. “These gentlemen are here to ensure the safety of Young Master Wen and Young Master Wei while you are gone.” She bowed again. “I will also remain in case Young Master Wei requires any medical assistance.”

Wen Qing relaxed slightly, but kept her needles prepared. The older woman didn’t seem dangerous. In fact, she looked more tired than anything else. The weight of tending to wounded cultivators and soldiers showed in her drawn expression and dark circles under her eyes. For a Lan, she looked positively dishevelled, her hair not quite contained and her white robes showing the wear of many days. 

She poured the woman some tea. “Here. Sit. He won’t wake for a while yet. Rest. If you need anything, my brother is there.” She gestured to a-Ning’s sleeping form. 

The Lan healer blinked at her in surprise before a small smile of gratitude graced her lips. “Thank-you.”

Wen Qing didn’t say anything. She understood. Instead, she moved to her brother and gently prodded him awake. 

“A-Ning, Wangji and I have to meet with the Lan and Nie sect leaders.” Her brother’s expression went from cute sleepy to anxious in a second. She ran a hand over his head. “Don’t worry. There are Nie guards to protect you, and a Lan healer to watch over Wuxian. Wangji will protect me and I will protect him. Rest and we’ll be back soon.”

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji kept close to Wen… no, Wei Qing as they made their way through the encampment to the war council tent. She held her head high despite the scowls and glares of those they passed. This was a person who knew their own worth, not arrogantly, but with confidence. His Wei Ying was the same, confident in his skills and able to prove his merit. If only his beloved had as much pride in his existence. 

A couple of Nie soldiers stepped toward them, their hands on their swords. Wangji stared them down, daring them to try. He would take on the whole army if he had to. She pressed her hand against his forearm as the cultivators spat in her direction before stomping away. 

Normally, he would pull away from such physical contact, but she was his sister now and deserved his support. 

They made it the rest of the way without incident and entered the war tent. Xiong-zhang and Sect Leader Nie stood before a table covered in maps. Wangji and Wei Qing bowed when the men finally turned their way. 

“Ah, Wangji, Maiden Wen…” 

“Maiden Wei,” he interrupted, startling his brother momentarily

“Yes, of course. Maiden Wei, thank-you for joining us. Please, have a seat.” Xichen gestured toward a low table surrounded by pillows. 

They settled on one side while the two leaders kneeled across from them. Nie Mingjue still looked displeased, but he wasn’t known for a cheerful disposition. People often compared Wangji to cold jade; whereas, the Nie leader was more like bubbling lava - powerful and dangerous with a temper simmering underneath all that muscle. 

“Sect Leader Nie and I wanted to meet with you both before discussing Lady Wei and Wen, er, Wei Qionglin’s presence here,” Xichen began with his usual polite, political tone. 

In meetings like these, it was Wangji’s Lan upbringing that allowed him to separate his brother from his role as sect leader. Was he still a part of Gusu Lan? In a way, he always would be. They were his natal clan, and he loved Cloud Recesses. However, he would not sacrifice his beloved, their children, or the Wei remnants for them again, not this time. 

Nie Mingjue grunted in their direction, his fingers tapping against the table. “I’ll be straight with you. I’m not comfortable with you here, nor am I thrilled with the idea of dismissing your part in Wen Ruohan’s ambitions.” He leaned toward Qing-jie, his gaze set on her. “It has come to our attention that you were his personal physician. That means you had a high rank in his court. Yet, you expect us to take you in and trust you? How do we know you are sincere? How do we know you won’t betray us or that this is not some manoeuvring on Ruohan’s part?”

“Mingjue,” Zewu-jun interjected, making Sect Leader Nie grunt again as he moved back.

“I know, I know. Wangji vouches for her, as does Wei Wuxian, but they are mere boys, easily swayed by inexperience and generous hearts. Just look at the way they adopted those children.” He held up his hands as the other went to intervene. “Now, Xichen, I’m not saying anything against their actions, but you have to admit such impulsive naivety does not indicate clear thinking.”

Wangji bristled inside. So many times the elders and his uncle accused him of not thinking clearly in his previous life. Even with his reputation for righteousness, they questioned his judgement. 

“Sect Leader Nie,” Qing-jie began with more calm than Wangji expected. “I have no expectation of your trust. I am a practical person, who is used to being blunt when dealing with stubborn patients. Therefore, I appreciate your direct manner. As I said yesterday, the only reason I was in service to Wen Ruohan was because he held my family hostage to ensure my co-operation. Now that my family is safe through the assistance of Wuxian and Wangji, I am free to oppose him in any way I can.”

“And what ways might that be?” Nie Mingjie asked, his face flushed and tone slightly mollified.

“Qing-jie is the one who provided Wei YIng and I with the information we gave you,” Wangji said, using the intimate term of sister to reinforce their relationship. 

One of Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows twitched upward as he ran his hand over his chin, contemplating them. 

“Then we owe you our gratitude. The reports you provided were quite helpful,” Zewu-jun said, his demeanour softening. “Though we have our own spy within Nightless City, we welcome any other information you are able to give us.”

“Though I don’t have much more I can tell you, I am willing to offer my services as a healer. Plus, our village has been blessed with an abundant harvest which we are willing to share if some means of safe transport can be arranged.”

A sincere smile graced Xichen’s features. “That would be greatly appreciated, wouldn’t it, Mingjue?” He gave the Nie leader a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh, Sect Leader Nie nodded. “Fine, but do not expect to wander the camp freely. I will assign guards to your tent for your protection and our own.”

“Does not need protection,” Wangji insisted.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm again. “Wangji, you cannot keep us safe alone,” she said with an exasperated grimace. “Contrary to your stubborn determination, you have to sleep. Guards are a good thing.”

“Mn,” he agreed with reluctance. It made sense. He just didn’t trust anyone anymore, not even his brother. 

“How is Wuxian?” Xiong-zhang asked, his eyes crinkling in amusement. 

“Stable,” she answered, folding her hands together in front of her. “He has not woken yet, though.”

“Mmm. I’m sure the last few weeks have been hard on him. I do not recall; were his injuries from the fall of Lotus Pier severe?”

Wangji shared a look with Qing-jie. He nodded. Hiding the extent of Wei Ying’s wounds at the hands of Madame Yu would not help anyone except, maybe, the Jiang. If Wei Ying objected, he would take responsibility. Besides, he trusted her to be discreet in her answer. 

“I’m afraid his medical issues stem from more than those he suffered during the invasion of Lotus Pier,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “While I won’t go into details without his permission, I will say that there is evidence of continued abuse starting from a very young age. This poor treatment has resulted in permanent damage which, I am sure, causes him chronic pain.”

The two men across from them stared at her, shocked by her report. While Wangji already knew of the health troubles Wei Ying faced, it tore at his heart to hear her speak them aloud. His beloved did not deserve such treatment. 

“Chronic pain, but he’s so active and bright,” Xiong-zhang said with a touch of naivety, his body rigid with anxiety.

“Hides suffering,” Wangji replied, clenching his hands until his knuckles cracked. “Does not want pity.”

“He’s ridiculous,” Qing-jie said with a frustrated roll of her eyes. “Don’t trust his smile. It’s beautiful and brilliant, but it’s a distraction. So are his outrageous comments and shameless behaviour. He’s used to pretending everything is fine, even when it’s not.”

“Mn,” Wangji said, unable to add more. The weight of his worry and anger for his beloved made him want to level forests. 

“If that’s the case, maybe it is best if we remove him from active duty,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice gruff with concern. 

She laughed at that. “I doubt even Wangji could keep him from fighting. No. I will keep an eye on him.”

“As will I,” Wangji vowed. “Wei Ying is righteous. Wei Ying will always fight.”

The Nie leader gave a solemn nod. “Well, then we’ll leave him in your hands. In the meantime, perhaps we can discuss possible battle plans to present to the war council. We will not share anything definitive, you understand. It’s a matter of prudence, but I am willing to work with you."

'Do not betray us if you value your life,' was unsaid, but easily read in his stern expression.

"We would like to get your perspective on the possibility of retrieving the swords Wen Ruohan took during the indoctrination,” Xichen added, his posture easing into something more relaxed, though worry still coloured his features.

“Of course,” Qing-jie said with the same gravitas as Nie Mingjue. “I will help where I can.”

“Mn. Would like Bichen back,” Wangji added. Though his borrowed sword had served him well so far, he missed the connection he had with his blade. Bichen was a part of him, just as Wangji was.  

“What the hell is this!” shouted Jiang Wanyin as he burst into the tent, Ziden sparking. “Wen-dogs! You dare to allow Wen-dogs to taint our camp?”

“Sect Leader Jiang!” Nie Mingjue barked, jumping to his feet. “You dare to intrude…”

The foolish Jiang boy stomped forward, his face flushed and features twisted in an outraged snarl. “Yes, I dare! I dare because I seem to be the only one determined to make the Wen pay for their treachery.”

Wangji rose, his hand on his sword as he stepped between Wei Qing and Jiang Wanyin. “Do. Not,” he snarled as the boy began to raise his hand to strike.

Chapter Text

For a moment, fear flickered across Jiang Wanyin’s face before he covered himself in a sneer and a haughty posture. Lan Wangji didn’t move, unafraid of the Jiang’s temper tantrum. 

“Ha, the great Hanguang-jun is so righteous he forgives enemies who deserve to die. Well, I’m not afraid of you or your self-righteous sect. She is a Wen. They are our enemies. All of them deserve to die! Yet, you bring them here to do what, help a servant? He’s not even a servant anymore; he’s nothing more than a rogue cultivator!”

“Sect Leader Jiang, please calm down,” Xiong-zhang said in a voice teetering on anger. “Wei Wuxian is my brother’s betrothed. I will not allow such disregard for his life.”

“He is also a valuable asset in this war,” Nie Mingjue added, moving around the table to stand by Qing-jie. “One we cannot afford to lose.”

Jiang Wanyin’s face grew darker. “So what if he dies? Lotus Pier fell because of him! My parents died because of him!”

Wangji sighed heavily inside. No matter what anyone else said, no matter what proof they gave, the selfish jerk would always cling to those lies. They suited his narrative as the hard-done-by. Irritated by the incessant ranting, Wangji gave in and slammed his fist into the pathetic man’s face. 

He went down like a sack of rotten radishes. 

The sight thrilled Wangji to his core. He grabbed the Jiang’s wrist and hauled him out of the tent, throwing his unconscious body in the direction of a couple of Jiang cultivators. “Your leader’s tired. Put him to bed.” 

“Well done,” Nie Mingjue said, grasping Wangji’s shoulder when he came back in the tent. “Not very political or diplomatic, but satisfying.”

Wangji’s brother hid a smirk behind his hand. “While I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, I fear this will only lead to more trouble.”

Nie Mingjue grumbled deep in his chest. “Perhaps, I should send him and his cultivators to protect the border farther south toward Lotus Pier. If he feels we are working toward reclaiming his home territory, he might forget about causing internal strife in the camp.”

He almost laughed at that. Jiang Wanyin didn’t strike him as a person who ever let go or forgot about the smallest slight. The bitterness in the man’s heart clung to him like a shroud. 

Qing-jie cleared her throat, the twinkle in her eyes giving away her enjoyment of the last few minutes. “Shall we get back to your next manoeuvres? I believe we were about to discuss the possibility of recovering those cultivator swords?”

The two leaders nodded and fell into planning. Wangji sat back and listened, proud of the way his Wei sister held her own against Nie Mingjue. 

Much later, they walked back toward their tent, tired and hungry after hammering out the details of several possible plans. 

“Thank-you for making my day brighter,” Qing-jie said with a laugh in her tone. 

“Mn?” Wangji responded, his mind returning to thoughts of Wei Ying. The sooner his beloved woke, the better. 

“Perhaps I am a terrible person, but the sound of your fist hitting him square in the face was so satisfying. Even with a golden core, he will look like a panda for several days before the bruising fades. As a healer, it is improper to enjoy the suffering of others. As a sister and a friend, however, I loved it.”

He held the flap to their tent to the side, letting her enter first. His lips twitched with the desire to grin. “Perhaps, I am a terrible person too, but so did I.”

She laughed out loud at that. 

Healer Lǐjiě turned their way as they entered. The Lan medic smiled warmly. “Ah, you are back. Your brother is still asleep, as is your patient.”

Wangji took his place beside Wei Ying, his gaze lingering on his love’s pale face. His heart ached with worry and impatience. 

“Thank-you for watching over them,” Qing-jie said, moving to check on a-Ning.

“Ah, no problem. I did not introduce myself before. I am Lan Lijie, Healer Wen. I have heard of your skills, impressive.”  

Qing-jie set to organising her supplies, her fatigue apparent in her posture. “Wei,” she said with an edge. 

The Lan elder’s gaze flicked to Wangji and back. “Pardon?”

“My family and I have taken the surname, ‘Wei’, as a protest against Wen Ruohan’s appalling actions,” she replied, settling on a cushion with a heavy sigh. She pressed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, indicating an impending headache.

Not surprising after their long and eventful day.

“We are a village of simple people: farmers and healers generations back. Perhaps, one day we’ll be able to redeem the Wen name. For now, we must ask our ancestors’ forgiveness and stand against Sect Leader Wen’s plans in whatever ways we can.”

With a soft hum, Healer Lan set about preparing tea, her expression gentle and compassionate. “Your response to such evil is admirable. As healers, I’m sure your ancestors understand.”

After a moment of silence, Qing-jie nodded. “That is kind, considering the losses Wen Xu subjected your own clan to.”

“Ah, as easy as it would be to desire a death for a death and loss for loss, it would be wrong. We would simply become the enemy we hate.” Lan Lijie donned a rueful smile that reminded Wangji of his brother. She poured them both some well-appreciated tea.

Wangji took his cup with a polite bow, the scentless liquid slightly bitter on his tongue. However, the rejuvenating tea helped erase the weariness of hours of intense discussions. His elder patted his head, her smile turning mischievous, once again reminding him of his brother.   

“You are a good boy, Lan Wangji. Your mother would be proud of you for your diplomatic solution to a certain Jiang’s temper.” She bowed and left, humming to herself.

His ears burned at her words. “Healer Lijie tended Mother,” he said, ignoring Qing-jie’s snicker. “Great aunt on Father’s side.”

“So, she raised you? That explains the...” She patted the top of her own head before stretching out her legs and propping her back against Wei Ying’s cot.    

 “Mn. Didn’t raise me. Lan children grow up in creche. Healer Lijie cared for Lan children. He turned his attention back to Wei Ying’s face, unwilling to see any hint of pity in her eyes. Perhaps, that wasn’t fair. She never struck him as a person who would pity anyone. Maybe the pity came from inside of him, a leftover from the grief he was punished for expressing. 

“Well, however she interacted with the child Hanguang-jun, she cares for you.” A soft chuckle emanated from her. “Thank-you again, by the way, for such a perfect hit to Jiang Wanyin’s pathetic face. No matter how dark life might get, I will always have that image to brighten my day.”

Wangji could not stop the smile making his lips twitch. “Mn,” he agreed, wishing Wei Ying had been there to see it.

Jiang Yanli gasped as two Jiang cultivators carried her brother into their tent. She rushed over to the cot they placed him on, horrified at the sight of blood on his bruised face. 

“Forgive the intrusion, Maiden Jiang,” Jiang Yumao said with a bow. 

She grabbed a cloth and soaked it in water before dabbing her brother’s swollen cheeks and nose. “What happened?”

The two men exchanged a tentative look she almost missed. “This one apologises, Maiden Jiang, for not witnessing the situation that brought the sect leader to this state.” With that, they left before she could ask anything more. 

Left alone, she tended to a-Cheng’s wounds. They were good disciples, some of the few who survived the fall of Lotus Pier. Almost two dozen rallied around her brother when he arrived in Qinghe. Most of them had been on nighthunts when the Wen attacked. The others had been visiting relatives and immediately came to the Unclean Realm in search of news. So far, they remained loyal, though she had heard some worrying comments. 

Jiang disciples often complained about a-Cheng and their mother’s tempers in the past. A-Xian had always been there to take the brunt of it or smooth things over. Now, no one stood between them and her didi’s volatile nature. If only they understood how his anger hid his deeper emotions. A-Xian always did. Why couldn’t they?

Maybe she could make them some soup. A-Cheng would like that. It couldn’t be too hard to acquire the proper ingredients for Lotus Root and Pork Rib soup. While the best lotus roots came from Lotus Pier, there had to be somewhere nearby where they grew. She would ask a couple of their most loyal disciples to find both lotus roots and pork ribs for her. The rest of the ingredients she could procure from the kitchens. After all, they were so busy, the more meals she cooked, the fewer they had to provide. 

Perhaps, she could make some for a-Xian too. He must miss her and her soup by now. If she could just reach the loyal street child in him, she could bring him back to a-Cheng’s side where he belonged. Her didi might not forgive him right away, but that wasn’t a problem. A-Xian was used to serving his sect despite the mood of the leader. All she had to do was remind him where he belonged.

While she tended to her brother, she couldn’t help but smile and hum. This would work. She would even make enough to give to Jin Zixuan. He looked so thin and tired these days. A hearty bowl of soup would help. Food always helped.    

Chapter Text

Wei Ying spent several hours writing out all the memories he could recall. He tried to keep his notes tidy, but his thoughts came in such a jumbled mess, he had difficulty sorting them out. He threw his brush down and screamed. “Ahgh, it’s all fragmented.”

“Calm,” Lan Zhan told him before humming their song in his ear as he massaged Wei Ying’s shoulders.

“Well, one thing is certain, Lianfang-zun doesn’t get any better,”Qing-jie said, flipping through some of the papers with a disapproving frown. “We definitely need to keep him from achieving any power in Jin Guangshan’s court.”

“Yeah, I keep seeing him in my dreams. He’s a horrible gremlin who sneaks in and destroys all my favourite books. Can’t trust him with anything,” Wei Ying said, leaning into Lan Zhan’s assuring presence. “I don’t know for sure, but I think he has something to do with Nie Mingjue. Something about a song, but I haven’t figured out what yet.” He threw his hands in the air and cursed. “Why can’t these things come in order? What’s the point of having them when I can’t figure out what they mean?”

He turned and buried his face in his beloved’s shoulder. Lan Zhan stroked his head while he muttered on about life, his failures, and anything else picking at him like birds at a seed bag.

“Where’s a-Ning?”

Qing-jie’s question made him sit up. “He went out for tea. He should be back…”

Before he could finish, the brother in question rushed back inside the tent, his eyes wide and hands empty.

Their sister rushed over to him. “A-Ning? What’s wrong? Did someone attack you?” She ran her hands over him, checking for injuries.

“N-no, Jiejie. The c-cooks are angry. I c-couldn’t get t-tea.” His attention turned to Wei Ying, his brow furrowing. “I’m s-sorry, Xian-gege, but I th-think M-maiden Jiang is in t-trouble.”

Qing-jie rolled her eyes and went back to her seat, guiding their didi to join her. “Not surprising. What did she do?”

He twisted his hands together. “Sh-she t-took over one of the c-cooking st-stations to m-make soup.”

“She is helping with the cooking; why is that a problem?”

Wei Ying groaned. Of course. This was when she started providing him and Jiang Cheng with soup. Oh, yeah, and Jin Zixuan. Right. “It’s all right, a-Ning. I remember now. She’s making lotus root and pork rib soup. It’s her specialty, and takes several hours.”

“And takes rare ingredients during war times,” Qing-jie said with a scoffing chuckle. Her eyebrows shot up. “Where’s she getting the pork ribs? Nevermind the lotus roots.”

He grabbed Lan Zhan’s hands and pulled his beloved’s arms around him, leaning against his broad chest. “Mmm, last time she sent a couple of Jiang disciples to hunt them down for her. I thought it was a treat back then, something to remind me of better times, even though I couldn’t swallow the meat. Still can’t.” He sighed and peered up at Lan Zhan. “Can’t believe it. I’m a vegetarian. All it took was three months in hell with nothing to eat except…” He cleared his throat. “Nevermind.”

Lan Zhan kissed his nose and held him tighter. “Wei Ying is safe.”

A soft knock at their entrance caught their attention. 

“Who is it?” he called out in a singsong way. 

“A-Xia… Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Yanli’s tentative voice called to him as the tent flap moved. She entered with a demure and kind posture. It was the kind of demeanour he would have run to before, pouting for her attention and any scraps of affection he could get. 

She gave a slight bow to everyone and held out a bowl. “I heard you were ill, and I thought you might like something familiar. It’s your favourite.”

He managed a smile. “Thank-you, Maiden Jiang, but this is…”

“Inappropriate,” Lan Zhan interjected, his arms remaining tight around Wei Ying.

She faltered, confused. “I am sorry, Second Young Master Lan, I did not mean anything by it. While Wei Wuxian is marrying into your clan, I still consider him my brother.”

Her eyes caught Wei Ying’s, something about them reminding him of Madame Yu. “Ever since you arrived in Lotus Pier, I looked upon you as my own sibling, as important to me as Jiang Cheng. I held you when you cried, tended your wounds, and tried to give you everything a child needs. No matter what some note from anyone says, you will always be the brother of my heart.”

Guilt made his chest hurt. He was really awful. She died for him.

“And why was he crying?” Qing-jie asked with a scoffing huff. “Who gave him those wounds for you to tend? I know your kind. You use guilt to tie a person to you, making them think they owe you for the basic necessities. He is your brother when he amuses you, when he needs you to soothe him after Jiang Wanyin and Madame Yu tore him to pieces.”

Liquid spilt from the bowl in Jiang Yanli’s hands as they shook, though her usually gentle eyes tightened. “I was a child too. What else could I do?” she asked in a voice filled with sorrow.

Qing-jie rose and folded her hands in front of her. “Help him find somewhere safer. Pressure your father into sending him somewhere safer. Stop making excuses for Jiang Wanyin. Stop trying to keep the peace when there is no peace in the first place.”

Jiang Yanli wavered in her stance as Qing-jie stepped closer. “Tell me, does Jiang Wanyin know you’re here? Your wonderful brother who blames Xian-di for the fall of Lotus Pier, as though Wen Ruohan needed an excuse.”

“A-Cheng is still hurting. We lost our parents, our home,” Jiang Yanli responded, her face flushed. 

“And Xian-di didn’t? He didn’t lose the only home he had known since he lost his parents?” She grimaced at the bowl of soup. “Such a heavy, fat ladened meal isn’t good for his recovery.”

Yanli took one more look Wei Ying’s way before rushing out of their tent. He groaned, caught between old feelings and awe at his Qing-jie standing up for him. Family was so torturous on his heart.  

“Aiya, did you have to be so hard on her? This will only make Jiang Cheng angrier,” he said, wishing for the thousandth time he never met the Jiangs. His connection with them coloured everything he did or thought. “Nothing upsets him like Yanli’s tears.”

Qing-jie knelt beside him, her anger shifting to rueful concern. “I’m sorry. I got carried away, probably my own guilt clouding my words. I failed at protecting my own family.”

“We all did,” Wei Ying said softly. “We were all just kids treading water during a flood.”

“I remember how much you missed her during our Burial Ground days,” she said with a long sigh. “I never meant to take your family from you.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t. Whatever ties I had with them broke the moment Wen Chao’s girlfriend entered Lotus Pier.” He huffed. “It was probably inevitable, anyway. Jiang Cheng’s jealousy was growing worse with every passing year. Madame Yu did everything she could to drive a wedge between us. The attention I got from Sect Leader Jiang didn’t help. And I was restless. I wanted to see the world. Maybe even travel with a certain fuddy duddy.”

“Let’s go,” Lan Zhan said, snuggling him.

Wei Ying giggled. “We can’t. We have kids waiting for us.”

“Mn. We’ll bring them with us.”

“Sure,” he replied before exhaling a dejected breath. “Yanli was the only spot of love in my life before I lived with you and your family. Sometimes, I still miss her. It’s difficult to forget about one of the few people kind to you after several years of living on the street. I was grateful for any affection. I expected people to be unkind, cruel. I could live with that if it meant some food and shelter. A sympathetic shoulder and tenderness were bonuses I was afraid to lose.”

Wei Ying patted Lan Zhan’s arm as his embrace tightened. “Can’t breathe.”

“Love Wei Ying. Have always loved Wei Ying.”

He chuckled. “I know that now. You three have taught me what real love looks like. I would never treat a child the way the Jiang parents treated me or their children. She didn’t have anyone to show her what real love looked like. I still have familial feelings for her that want to stick around. I think she tried her best with the tools she had. The last thing I remember before I died was watching her take a sword aimed at me.That had to mean I meant more to her than a shield for her brother or a toy to play with.”

“W-why w-was she th-there?” a-Ning asked, joining them around the low table.

“In Nightless City? I don’t know. I thought she was in Koi Tower.”

“Did you bring her?” Qing-jie asked Lan Zhan. 

“No. Would have been foolish. Would not have abandoned her without protection in such a situation.”

That made sense. His Lan was a practical, sensible person even when worried about him. He would not have risked her life, nor would he have access to her when she was in mourning. That would have been improper. 

“Maybe she followed me,” he said before rethinking it. “No. The Jin would not have let her go any more than they would have let Lan Zhan see her. She was not strong enough to fly on her sword by herself. After I snuck in, Koi Tower would have locked down, keeping her from everyone.”

“M-mayb-be we’ll figure it out as w-we s-sort out these m-mem-mories,” a-Ning said.

Wei Ying sighed; what a mess.    

Later that evening, Wei Ying rested in Lan Zhan’s arms, his mind still on his former shijie. He appreciated Qing-jie’s fierce defence of his person, but couldn’t quite let go of Yanli. She tried. Yes, she went about things the wrong way at times, but so did everyone else he knew, including himself. They were children brought up by two people who had no idea how to love anyone. Did that mean he should go back to Jiang Cheng? No. Jiang Cheng never called him his brother. They were friends when it suited him and master/servant when it didn’t. While Yanli married into the Jin clan, she probably did it in some misguided attempt at making peace. She did everything to foster peace. Talk about trying to achieve the impossible.

Still, they grew apart, driven there by more than their childhood. Cultivation society would not let them be family any more than Madame Yu would. It didn’t matter that his mother was the disciple of an immortal. He would always be the son of a servant or the possible bastard of Jiang Fengmian. It didn’t matter if that wasn’t true. His former sect leader never bothered to stop the rumours. Maybe they fulfilled some secret wish Jiang Fengmian had, or he used them as a way to hurt his wife. Maybe he was just too cowardly or uninterested to deal with them. Whatever the reason, he didn’t seem to care how much they hurt his family or Wei Ying. 

During his last lifetime, he would have stood up for his shijie, defended her against such an attack. This time around, he wanted to stay far away from Yanli. It was the best way to keep her safe. He couldn’t help her without causing more trouble, and the last thing he wanted was to get between her and the rest of the cultivation world. He already did that once and was not foolish enough to do it again.  

Chapter Text

Wei Ying settled into lotus pose as he resolved to have a talk with his core again. That was a strange idea, to talk to a part of his insides and have it answer. He had a picture of himself discussing the weather with his liver or the clouds with his kidneys. To be fair, his stomach had opinions and shared them freely, so maybe he could get used to this too. 

As Lan Zhan played a soft melody to help him meditate, Wei Ying shook away the thoughts toying with his attention and sent his consciousness through his meridians to his golden core.

“Hello?” he called as the silver light appeared in front of him. 

Layers of voices answered. “Hello.”

Yeah, sure. This isn’t weird. “I’m back. Well, actually, I didn’t go anywhere since you’re inside of me. I don’t want you to think I see you as an ever-present guest I only talk to when I need something, though. Actually, I’m not sure how to see you.”

“We are you and more.” The light pulsed and fluctuated with every word.

Me and more, sure. So he was possessed? “You know what? I’m not going to worry about that right now. I just want to talk to you about all these thoughts, these memories I keep having.”

“You have more questions.”

“Yes…”

“We all have questions.”

“Umn, yeah, I’m sure we do.”

“There are more questions than answers.”

If this was a conversation in the physical realm, Wei Ying would be pacing and frowning in exasperation right now. Instead, he was his own voice in his own - head? Dantian? Whatever. He was his thoughts talking to his gut.

“I’m sure there are, but I have specific questions that I’m hoping you have specific answers to.”

The light waited. He took that as permission.

“These images I keep seeing, are they memories?” No. That didn’t make sense. How could they be memories when he never experienced them in the first place?

“What are they?” he asked, bothered by his inability to put things into words.
“They are remnants of a timeline unlived.”

Oh, hey, a straight answer of sorts. “Remnants of a timeline unlived. Hmm. So, they are glimpses or fragments of how life would have been if I hadn’t messed with time?”

“Yes, yes. Of course, of course. Nothing is wasted. Nothing stops existing. Time means nothing. Everything is and was and will be.”

“Sure, sure. So even though that future never happened, it happened.”

“Everything happens. Nothing happens. Life is death. Death is life.”

He groaned in annoyance. This wasn’t really getting him anywhere. “Well, thank-you. That was somewhere between helpful and completely useless.”

The weird, creepy laughter of too many voices reverberated around him. “Okay, well, bye.”

“There is no goodbye.”

Yeah, whatever. He pulled himself back to consciousness. “Listening to one’s gut is highly overrated,” he said to Lan Zhan, who altered his playing to something more soothing.

Having had enough of fractured memories and snarky cores, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan decided to check on a-Ning and Qing-jie, who were helping Healer Lan with the wounded.

Wei Ying twirled his flute between his fingers as they walked through the line of tents. He half expected the wary looks he experienced in his past timeline; however, instead of fear and disgust, most of the other cultivators gave him and Lan Zhan nods of respect. It made his skin prickle with exasperated annoyance at the hypocrisy. 

As they came closer to the medical compound, he caught sight of a few soldiers in Jiang and Jin colours gathered around someone. This wasn’t good. As the cultivators jeered their victim, they shoved and slapped him around.

“A-Ning!” Wei Ying shouted and charged forward. 

He kicked one jerk in the back of the knee, making him cry out and fall to the ground. With a quick twist, he threw another one into the dirt. Beside him, Lan Zhan took care of two more before bringing out his sword. The rest of the jackasses backed away, muttering their disapproval even though fear shone in their eyes. 

Wei Ying put his arm around his didi and checked him over. Bits of rice stuck to his clothes and hair. He brushed them off with his hands, trying to remain calm. “You okay?”

“Y-yes,” a-Ning answered in a shaking voice. 

“Where’s Qing-jie?”

The gentle boy gestured to a tent not far away. “Helping Lan Healer. I w-went to g-get food.”

He gave him an encouraging smile. “Okay. Don’t worry about the food. Lan Zhan and I will get some. You go help Qing-jie.”

A-Ning nodded before hurrying away, careful to avoid getting near the men who roughed him up.

Once his didi was safely away, Wei Ying’s smile turned nasty. Anger burned through his meridians, stirring up his silver core. He glared at the crowd of fuckers who dared to hurt his brother. “Aren’t you all so precious and brave?” he spat, the essence of the Yiling Patriarch settling over him. “So many of you ganging up on such a terrifying boy. Truly, you all are shining examples of nobility and honour.”

“H-he’s a Wen-dog,” one particularly sour looking Jin said, his head held high.

“Not Wen. Wei,” Lan Zhan told him, his glacial scowl enough to cast frost on those in its path. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

Wei Ying rolled his eyes as Jiang Cheng strode up, sword in hand and Zidian sparking. Did his former Shidi always carry such arrogance? How come Wei Ying never noticed? Oh, right. He was too busy caretaking the Jiang to notice.

“ Plus, you had your own ego to lug around ,” his core reminded him in his head. 

“Oh, great. Nice of you to share your opinion. I’m not meditating. Why are you talking to me?”

“You’re terrible at meditating.” 

“ Yeah, okay. Shut up.” Ahya, the last thing he needed was a cynical voice in his brain reminding him of all his weaknesses. 

The bitter Jiang Leader turned his glare on him. “Wei Wuxian! How dare you threaten my disciples over a Wen-dog?! Do you think yourself so above everyone? You truly are the one that bites the hand that feeds you. You even let that Wen-whore berate my sister! What pleasure you and your fucking Lan must get from her to hurt the one who treated you like their own.”

Oh, his former shidi really wanted to die. With his hand clenched tight around his dizi, Wei Ying stepped forward, his gaze boring into the Jiang. “Watch your mouth, Jiang Cheng. They are Wei not Wen, and they are here to help.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed at that, his lips twisting in a disgusted sneer. “So they changed their name. What a farce.” He let out a repulsive chuckle. “Do you think that will protect them? What honour is there in being a Wei? Weis play at being heroes, trying to take on airs above their station. Wei-dogs are barely better than Wen-dogs.”

Grabbing the Jiang’s robe, Wei Ying ignored the spark of Zidian as Jiang Cheng latched onto his wrist. He had felt the spiritual weapon’s sting before and could handle the pain. Besides, it was weak under the power of his former shidi’s core. He peered into the other man’s eyes, noting the remnants of dark bruising. Oooh, someone got him good. The thought almost made him let go of his anger in favour of a hearty laugh.

“Let go of me, you fucking traitor!”

Yeah, no. He’d laugh later. “You just won’t learn, will you? You spew your fucking poison and hatred on anyone you decide has wronged you. No one is better than you, right?”

Some of the Jiang disciples made an attempt at coming to the aid of their leader, but faltered as Lan Zhan blocked their way.

“Have you really forgotten that those two Wen-dogs, as you put it, saved your life? A-Ning risked his own life to retrieve your parents’ bodies, so you could give them a proper burial. Do these things mean nothing to you?”

Jiang Cheng twisted his body, trying to free himself from Wei Ying’s hold. “I don’t fucking care! Wen-dogs destroyed Lotus Pier because of you. Nothing will make up for that!”

Wei Ying shoved him to the ground, ignoring his shout of outrage. “You just keep singing the same song over and over.”

The Jiang Leader thrust his sword toward Wei Ying, who stepped on the blade, holding it against the ground. “So eager to throw your life away, ChengCheng? Don’t worry. I remember our deal. After the war, you and I will cross blades.”

“Don’t call me ChengCheng!”

Ignoring the annoyance at his feet, he turned his attention to cultivators around them. “I will warn you all once. You go near Wei Qing or Wei Ning again, and you will wish Wen Ruohan killed you.” 

They shifted from foot to foot, trying to hide their nervous fear. A few of them actually trembled. That was better. 

Jiang Cheng tried to shuffle away from him, but couldn’t free his sword.You dare undermine me in front of my disciples!” 

“You. Undermine. Your. Self.” Wei Ying stepped over him and walked away with Lan Zhan by his side. 

“Wei Ying is good,” his beloved said, lacing their fingers together. 

He gave a bitter laugh. “Why? Because I didn’t crush them like they deserve? I wanted to, I truly did.”

“Mn. Get Suibian first.”

“Yeah, I guess.” His eyes drifted over the blade in his hand. It wasn’t a bad weapon, but he missed his own. He wondered how Suibian would react to his altered core. 

“Suibian will love us, love us, love us.”

“Oh, shut up,” he snapped out loud, earning a concerned look from his beloved.

“Wei Ying?”

He shrugged in exasperation. “YinYun talks too much.”

“YinYun?”

With a sigh, he clung to his Lan’s arm. “Yeah, my core. Apparently, YinYun has decided to listen in on all conversations, even the thoughts in my head, and make comments. I don’t even have to meditate. YinYun just yaps at me.”

“Hmm. I thought you called it XingXing?”

“Ah, I did, but it didn’t feel right. Though, I’m leaning toward Hàichóng right now.”

“Pest? Pest! We are not pest. Not pest. Never pest.”

“If you are not a pest, then be quiet. My head hurts.” He was pretty certain YinYun blew raspberries at him, but maybe he was just hungry.

Chapter Text

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan entered the healer’s tent to find Wei Qing glaring at a hairy, heavy set Nie healer, who gave her an equally chilly stare back.

“Hi, Qing-jie. Making friends?” he asked, slipping in beside her.

The Nie healer clicked his tongue against his teeth. “The Nie thank-you for your offer of assistance, Maiden Wen…”

“Wei,” Wei Ying, Qing-jie, and Lan Zhan corrected together.

She made a face as though she didn’t care. “But it is not needed.”

Wei Ying couldn’t resist a bitter laugh at that. “Right. My sister is one of the most gifted doctors of all healers; yet, your tents packed with wounded soldiers and cultivators don’t need her help. Impressive.”

The man’s dark skin turned grey, but he straightened his broad shoulders, his chin rising defiantly. “As I said…”

“So it doesn’t matter to you that your sect leader himself approved of her assistance, that he is willing to trust Maiden Wei?” he asked, donning a sharp smile. “I’ll be sure to inform him of your loyalty and trust.”

Huffing, the Nie stepped away. “I have patients to attend to.”

Qing-jie rolled her eyes. “There’s no point, Wuxian. They don’t want my help. The healers make sure the patients know I was a Wen, and my presence just creates a disruption that isn’t conducive to healing.”

“Foolish,” Lan Zhan said with the slightest shake of his head.

“Pathetic and ridiculous too,” Wei Ying added, giving him a wide grin. 

She sighed and picked up her bag of supplies. “As much as I’d like to uphold my oath as a healer, I think it’s best if a-Ning and I go back home. We will be safer there, anyway.”

Wei Ying exchanged a glance with Lan Zhan. She was right. There wasn’t much point in trying to help those who don’t want help. 

“We’ll escort you,” his beloved offered, and Wei Ying yelped with glee.

“Can we stay a couple of days? Spend some quality kiddie time?”

His dearest’s eyes twinkled. “Yes.”

He leaped into Lan Zhan’s arms. “Yes. Yes. My love is the best, the best cultivator, the best father, the best love, the best of the best.”

Qing-jie whacked him in the arm. “Yeah, yeah. He’s amazing. You do remember there is a war going on, right? Don’t you have some sort of mission to go on?”

Wei Ying gave a half shrug. “Eh. We’ll stop off on the way back and deal with that.”

Several days later, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying strode up the steps of the indoctrination tower. They weren’t in a hurry. After all, they had already taken out any patrols nearby. It played out much the same as it did in the last timeline, except he had his beloved by his side instead of Jiang Wanyin. 

That time, he had the desperate need to find Wei Ying driving him to fight and win. He had been ruthless, determined to make those who took his beloved away from him suffer. 

They were fools, drunk again at their post and going on about the destruction of Lotus Pier and the burning of Cloud Recesses. Their inebriated laughter echoed over the valley of volcanic rock and crevices of glowing magma.  

It was strange to go through this again, like Lan Zhan was reliving an altered dream. This time, he didn’t have to hold back to interrogate anyone, so he didn’t. 

He and Wei Ying hit hard, uninterested in playing about or making anyone suffer in revenge. They both had had enough of that the last time. With their combined musical abilities, the cultivators barely registered the attack before they were dead. As the last body fell, Lan Zhan exhaled heavily. All this death was pointless. 

Wei Ying grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers, his lips in an exasperated frown. “If my younger self was in front of me right now, I’d smack him on the head for ever thinking there was glory in war or revenge. Not that I wanted to kill anyone, but I talked big. Foolish.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan replied, tugging his beloved back down the stairs. 

“Hey, you don’t have to agree, you know.”

Feeling smug, he ignored the protests of his cultivation partner and led him to the tower entrance. He sent out a blast from Wangji and shattered the wood. 

“Show off,” Wei Ying said with a raised eyebrow. He twirled his dizi and went inside. 

Lan Zhan followed, scanning the hall for enemies. They walked the halls, checking every room for stray soldiers, but only found a handful of servants huddled in the kitchen. 

“Sorry to intrude,” Wei Ying started, pausing to turn a cheeky expression Lan Zhan’s way. “We won’t hurt you. We’re just here to retrieve some personal property. You wouldn’t happen to know where the armoury is, would you?”

The group of shabby commoners exchanged confused looks before one younger woman stepped forward and nodded. Somewhat surprised, Lan Zhan didn’t want to know why this slip of a kitchen maid would know where the Wen soldiers kept their weapons.

Wei Ying gave her a kind smile. “Would you please take us there?” He held up three fingers. “I promise we will not hurt you or any other servants here.”

She turned toward an older man near her. He frowned and came to her side. 

“We will both go, if you please, Young Master.”

“Ah, no need for such formality,” Wei Ying told him with a wave of his hand. “I’m not a young master, just a rogue cultivator.” He gestured toward Lan Zhan. “Though he is, and we’re betrothed, so that might make me a young master, but I hate titles, so let’s just go without, shall we? This one is Wei Wuxian, and this ethereal being at my side is Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Zhan gave a slight nod of his head, letting his beloved put the civilians at ease with his chatter and relaxed manner. He did his best to aid him by keeping silent and trying to look less intimidating than usual.

“I am Wen Duyi, and this is my daughter, Wen Hualing. We are servants. We have nothing to do with the war,” the man insisted, shaking as he held his daughter close.

Wei Ying let out a long exhale. “Yeah, we wouldn’t have anything to do with the war either, if we had a better choice.”

Wen Duyi blinked at him in confusion.

“Ah, the armoury?” Wei Ying said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, yes.” The father and daughter shuffled forward, leading them out of the kitchen and down the hall. 

By the time they reached the desired room, Wei Ying had offered to take the servants to the Burial Ground sanctuary, to save them from both Wen retribution and enemy vengeance. While they worked out the details, Lan Zhan broke down the door and went in search of Bichen.

He could feel his sword’s spirit reaching out for him, and he strode to the large bundle of swords on the table in the middle of the room. The moment his fingers curled around Bichen’s hilt, he felt like he had regained a lost limb. After pulling the blade from the scabbard to check for damage, he strapped it to his belt and searched for Suibian.

“Wei Ying,” he called, holding out his beloved’s weapon.

Unlike last time, Wei Ying rushed forward and grabbed the sword with both hands. “Mmm, yes!” he exclaimed, hugging Suibian to his chest. He even kissed the hilt. “I missed you so much!”

With a fond shake of his head, Lan Zhan helped himself to a couple of qiankun bags stored on another shelf and filled them with the other swords. 

Wei Ying grabbed a couple more bags. “For supplies,” he said with a wink and proceeded to take whatever seemed useful. 

At one point in his life, Lan Zhan would have objected, believing the theft of the Wen items to be dishonourable. Now, he saw it as a necessity, survival in the midst of war. 

When they went back to the kitchen, the young woman helped Wei Ying pack away the stores of food while her father convinced the others to come with them. By the time they were ready to go, it was too late in the day to travel. They decided to stay the night and head out at dawn. 

Wei Ying raised the dead soldiers outside and instructed them to keep watch. Despite this, Lan Zhan stayed awake, meditating instead of sleeping. The servants seemed harmless, but he would wait for Qing-jie’s approval before trusting them fully.    

Chapter Text

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan escorted the servants they rescued back to Yiling, stopping at the border of the Burial Ground to wait for Qing-jie and a-Ning. Once a Wei family member attested for one of the refugees, that person vouched for the rest in return. It was a precarious line of trust, but Uncle Four insisted they were safe. Still hesitant, Wei Ying created an array to confirm their loyalty. All the person had to do was stand in the middle while Qing-jie activated it. If their allegiance was with Wen Ruohan, the lines of the runes would turn from gold to red. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for now. Satisfied with the results of their mission, they hugged their children and returned to the Sunshot encampment.  

“Xichen-ge!” Wei Ying hollered, striding toward the Lan sect leader. “He held up several qiankun bags. “We’ve brought food. Well, food and radishes.” He propped an arm on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “No matter how much I fix the soil, they insist on growing radishes.”

“Radishes,” Lan Xichen said with a touch of confusion. Beside him, Nie Mingjue twitched in equal puzzlement. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan responded while pulling out more qiankun bags from his sleeves. “Grow fast and easy. Will make other supplies go farther.”

Wei Ying snorted. His loved ones were so ready to sing the praises of that horrible vegetable at any opportunity. When this was all done, he was banning radishes from their home and garden.

Lan Zhan pulled out some letters and passed them to the sect leaders. “From the children.”

Delight brightened up Lan Xichen’s weary countenance as he took the small pile. Even Nie Mingjue managed a small smile when given one addressed to himself. 

“There’s one for Huaisang too,” Wei Ying said, enjoying their embarrassed pleasure at receiving such unexpected gifts. “The boys miss their mountain-gege, gentle-gege, and fan-gege. As does a-Miao, though she calls you three M-ge, G-ge, and N-ge. The splotches of ink are hers. She worked hard on them. Actually, she worked hard on smearing herself and me in ink, which only confirms that black clothes are the best.”

“Thank-you.” Xichen-ge chuckled and cleared his throat as though holding back tears. “These are a bright light in the midst of all this darkness. I miss them and look forward to seeing them again.” Hopeful pleading coloured his gaze as he had a silent conversation with Lan Zhan.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan responded in a most non-committal way. 

There must have been something positive in that, that Wei Ying missed because the Lan leader’s shoulders relaxed and his grin grew a little. 

Wei Ying clapped his hands together. “Well, the sooner we end this mess, the sooner we can get back to spoiling our little bunnies. Who’s up for getting their swords back?”

“You got them?” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, joining them with a few of his fellow cultivators tagging along. 

One of them gave Wei Ying a sour glare. He couldn’t remember the slug, so he ignored the superior sneer on his conceited face. Instead, he removed the qiankun bag from his belt and pulled out the contents. His beloved did likewise and, between the two of them, they placed almost a hundred, fine, cultivator’s swords on the ground. 

Word soon spread throughout the camp, and cultivators came rushing in from all over. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan stood to the side, letting the sect leaders sort out ownership of the weapons. As each disciple claimed their blade, a few of them identified a friend who fell in battle and no longer needed their sword. The physical reminder of lost allies turned the event from a celebrated victory to a sombre recognition of the consequences of war. 

There among all the spiritual blades Wei Ying caught sight of a familiar purple sheath adorned with silver. His fingers twitched. What was he supposed to do, pull it out and bring it to Jiang Cheng? He would have before without even thinking. Now, he doubted it would be appreciated. Still, it bothered him to see the weapon he used to think of with respect and affection lying on the ground. 

Exasperated by his indecision, he stepped forward only to have Lan Zhan catch his wrist. 

“Leave it, Wei Ying.”

Hesitating, he met his beloved’s understanding gaze. 

“He will not appreciate it.”

Wei Ying rubbed at the tension building between his eyes. “It’s not about Jiang Cheng. Sandu was the first blade I crossed with Suibian. It’s the sword that challenged me every time we sparred as children. Seeing it there in the dirt is like a symbol of all that is gone.”

Lan Zhan gave the smallest of nods. He understood, but he didn’t let go. “The Jiang Cheng you knew as a child is not the one he has become since the fall of Lotus Pier.”

With a growl of frustration, he tugged at his arm. “I know that. I do. My childhood with the Jiang family was overshadowed by abuse and lies. But that doesn’t mean the good memories aren’t worth remembering.”

His zhiji’s eyebrows twitched, the telltale sign he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words. The care and concern in those gold eyes made Wei Ying give in. His shoulders sagged as he leaned his forehead against Lan Zhan’s chest. 

“Fine,” he mumbled into the muscular shoulder. “You know, between you and my core, my impulsive nature is taking a real beating.”

A soft huff came from his love, and he patted Wei Ying’s back.

“Must you?” growled a familiar voice that made Wei Ying groan.

He turned around, but kept Lan Zhan’s arms around him. “Yes. It’s extremely important that I get as many hugs and cuddles in a day as I can.”

Jiang Cheng glared at him as though he was horse crap fouling his path. He had already picked up Sandu, his hand gripping the sheath so tight, his fingers turned white. “Ever the smart one. Always making clever quips to put yourself above everyone else.”

“Aw, Chengcheng, don’t criticise my quips just because your best comeback is to roll your eyes.”

The Jiang leader bared his teeth in a snarl. “Don’t you dare call me Chengcheng. I am tired of your disrespect. I am a sect leader, and you and your,” he paused and turned his sour expression on Lan Zhan, “precious jade need to show me the proper respect.” He bit out the words ‘precious jade’ with disgust.

‘Wow, and you wanted us to live in him. Ick, ick, ick.’

Wei Ying pressed a hand against his lower dantian. ‘Not now.’

His ex-shidi stepped forward, almost shaking as his breathing quickened. “I am sick of your insolence. You have never respected my position, never. Why I ever thought you could serve as my subordinate, I’ll never know. You are just an overly ambitious opportunist taking advantage of your betters.”

Before Wei Ying could respond, Lan Zhan moved between them. 

“Is the great Hanguang-jun going to hit me again? How noble of the esteemed second jade. First, you protect Wens, then him. Is he that good in bed?” Despite his brave words, Jiang Cheng took a step back and held his sword in front of him.

Wei Ying moved beside Lan Zhan and held onto his love’s clenched fist. The actions of his former shidi were slowly poisoning even the sweetest memories of Lotus Pier. “You know what I’m sick of, Jiang Wanyin? I’m sick of having to put up with your obsession with me. Are you so enamoured with me that you can’t get on with your own life? Our split could have been amicable, but you have to keep pushing like an upset child. I have already agreed to cross swords with you once the war is over, but if you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to thrash you right here.” He narrowed his eyes and donned a threatening grin. “And you know I can do it, so stay away from me, Lan Zhan, and anyone else I care for.”

With that, he turned and gave his beloved a kiss on the cheek before linking their arms and walking away.

“Did you really hit him?” he asked on the way to their tent.

“Mn,” he answered with smug pride. “Wei Ying was unconscious at the time.”

Wei Ying gasped. “You’re the one who gave him the two black eyes!” He smacked Lan Zhan on the chest. “How dare you do that when I wasn’t around to see it. My life is a tragedy to have missed such a scene!”

“Will do it again just for Wei Ying,” he replied with twitching lips that hinted at a grin.

Throwing his head back, Wei Ying laughed heartily. “My love is so good to me.” 

Chapter Text

Wei Ying stood across from the cluster of sect leaders and wondered if it was time for him and Lan Zhan to leave the rest of the Sunshot Campaign to them. His head hurt from the incessant arguing and posturing. Were they here to stop a tyrant or jockey for more political power? 

Jin Zixuan had a pretty good head on his shoulders and seemed determined to be an asset. His cousin, though, wouldn’t shut up. He knew nothing, participated in one battle before claiming injury, and threw out the most ridiculous ideas as he jabbed a finger at the map displayed before them.

“Jin Zixun, once again, we cannot send forces into Yueyang yet. The pass is too heavily guarded,” Lan Xichen said with more patience than the Jin deserved.

 The pompous ass snorted and sneered in disgust. “Are we cultivators or cowards?”

Nie Mingjue rose to his full height and stared him down. “Since we don’t measure up to your expectations, why don’t you show us how it’s done?” He leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowed. “You go take the pass all by yourself.”

The Jin shifted from foot to foot and leaned away from the Nie leader. “B-by m-my self?”

“Ah, huh.” Nie Mingjue stepped closer. “No? Then shut up!” He shoved the Jin away.

As the sect leader turned away, Jin Joke scuttled behind his cousin, face red with shame and rage and mumbling curses under his breath.

Wei Ying stifled a laugh while the other sect leaders looked away, suddenly silent. It was a beautiful thing, especially seeing Sect Leader Yao pulling at his collar and nodding at Nie Mingjue for some reason. 

Did he think a powerhouse of a cultivator and leader like the Nie leader needed his approval for his actions? 

Whatever. He didn’t want to be there anymore. As a rogue cultivator, he didn’t have to be there, but Lan Zhan wanted to keep tabs on their plans. And he had a point. They needed to make sure both sides of this war stayed away from their family. 

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Xichen called, interrupting Wei Ying’s thoughts. 

He straightened and smiled brightly. “Yes, Zuwe-jun?”

“We noticed Wen–Wei Qing and her brother are no longer in the camp…”
“Yes, that’s right!” Sect Leader Yao jumped in, always ready to stir up trouble. “I thought Maiden Qing had volunteered her medical services as part of her request for sanctuary. She’s gone! How do we know she hasn’t run back to Wen Ruohan?”

Lan Zhan glared at him. “Camp healers dismissed Qing-jie. Did not appreciate her assistance.”

“Can’t blame them,” Jiang Cheng snapped from across the table, his gaze on Wei Ying. “A Wen-dog is a Wen-dog no matter what they change their name to.”

Wei Ying laughed, unamused. “That Wen-dog saved your life.”

Lan Xichen held his hands up between them. “Let’s leave that for the moment. Fighting among ourselves will only help Wen Ruohan.”

“Who turned Wei Qing away?” Nie Mingjue asked, frowning with disapproval. 

Tired of all of them, Wei Ying turned away from Jiang Cheng. “Your head healer,” he replied without ceremony. “She released Qing-jie from her obligations. Lan Zhan and I escorted her back home where she and Ning-di could help supply food for this camp.” 

Nie Mingjue’s frown grew more severe as he clenched his fists and muttered something about not needing more headaches. “Hmmph. I’ll deal with this. Please, pass on my apologies to Maiden Wei for her treatment from my staff.”

Wei Ying refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead, he gave a slight bow. “Thank-you, Sect Leader. I will.”

The Nie leader huffed and turned his attention back to the map. “It’s time to attack on two fronts. Jiang Wanyin and Jin Zixuan, if you two lead a contingent of soldiers to retake Yunmeng, Lan Xichen and I will engage Wen Xu here. They’ll have to split their attention and resources.” 

“Finally,” Jiang Cheng muttered. He gestured to Jin Zixuan. “We’ll head out early tomorrow. The sooner we kick those fuckers out of my home, the better.”

After everyone else left, Nie Mingjue stopped Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. “I didn’t want to ask while Sect Leader Jiang was here, but it might be best if you two help in the recovery of Yunmeng.”

Wei Ying wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry at that. “I–ah, I don’t think my assistance would be appreciated. Besides, Lan Zhan and I have an alternative plan.”

Nie Mingjue arched an eyebrow at that. “And that is?”

He grinned and leaned against his beloved. “Why, to take out Wen Ruohan, of course.”

They left later that night and met up with Wei Qing on the outskirts of Nightless City. Despite Sect Leader Nie’s demands for more information, they chose to keep silent. The fewer people who knew what they were up to the better. 

The three of them decided early on to keep Meng Yao from delivering the killing blow. If his memories of an alternate future were true, they needed to keep him away from Jin Guangshan and any position of power. As tempting as it was to kill him off and be done with it, Wei Ying couldn’t quite go there. Yes, his core insisted, in its own snarky way, that the memories were real and accurate, he still had hope that the man might be redeemed somehow. 

“See? We listened,” Wei Ying declared, bouncing in front of Wei Qing as they hid beside one of the outer gates. He gestured to the Wen robes both he and Lan Zhan acquired from a couple of soldiers.

“Miracles do happen,” she responded, making him pout. “Come on. This gate used to be the servant entrance to Madame Wen’s pavilion. It hasn’t been used since she passed away. There’s a passage from there to Wen Ruohan’s private quarters. If he isn’t stewing in resentful energy on his throne, he should be there. Either way, it’s easy to get from his rooms to the throne room.

Before they continued, Wei Ying grabbed her arm. “Are you sure you should come with us?”

She shook her head at him and opened the gate. “I promised your children I’d keep you safe. Now, get going.”

He wanted to protest that he didn’t need anyone to keep him safe, but Lan Zhan’s smug expression matched hers, so he gave up. 

“ Aw. tamed by love ,” his core mocked. 

“ Oh, be quiet ,” he ordered, but his core just snickered in the background of his thoughts.  

Qing-jie guided them along an abandoned garden path to a plain wooden door at the back of a massive pavilion. Once inside, she lit a lantern, but kept the flame low. They moved carefully through the former home of Wen Ruohan’s wife. 

As they passed the rich furniture and elegant decor, he wondered what she would have thought of her husband’s actions. Her son was dead, or soon would be if Wen Xu’s battle with Nie Mingjue went the same way as ast time. Would she have hated him for that or would she have thought her husband justified in his actions?

He knew little about her except that she died when Wen Xu was only eight. Wen Ruohan never remarried, though he did have the occasional dalliance, one of which led to Wen Chao. Maybe the Wen leader really loved his wife. After all, her pavilion seemed more like a shrine than a home. Perhaps her death set him on his own road to destruction. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts. Now was not the time to feel compassion for the man who killed for power and greed. 

They stopped at another door. 

“This is it,” Qing-jie said, her voice a touch unsteady.

“You ready?” he asked his beloved.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan answered and drew Bichen.

Wei Ying took a deep breath and pulled out a handful of talismans. He nodded to Qing-jie, and she opened the door.   

Chapter Text

The room was dark and empty, how disappointing, Wei Ying decided as they slipped in like bugs searching for food in a dirty kitchen. The glow of Bichen cast a blue light over the elegant furniture. Still, something about the place seemed out of alignment with the wealth and station of the sect leader and chief cultivator. The rugs, curtains, and other furnishings showed signs of heavy wear, as though no one had upgraded them for years. Even dust covered most of the surfaces.

Didn’t the servants clean his rooms?

“No one is allowed in here anymore, not even to tend to the basics,” Wei Qing told them as she placed her lantern on a nearby table. “Wen Ruohan began questioning the loyalty of every person under him soon after he started delving into resentful energy. From there, he slid into paranoia and seclusion.” A touch of sadness entered her voice. “Before then, he was no different than any other arrogant leader. Still, he cared for his family and my brother and I. Believe it or not, he was a kind uncle.”

“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” Wei Ying asked, daring to place a hand on her shoulder. 

She swatted his fingers. “Yes. That man is no longer my uncle. The person I cared for died when the hatred took over. I’m here for the uncle I once knew.”

Wei Ying understood. So many times, in his last life, he slipped into a headspace where he didn’t even recognise himself. On the battlefield, he came close to succumbing to the powerful rage coursing through him. He didn’t trust anyone, seeing hate and condemnation in their eyes.

‘He’s heeerrreee ,’ his core sang as the level of resentful energy rose in the room. 

“Fuck, He’s here,” Wei Ying repeated and gestured to Lan Zhan to get on one side of the door. He stood on the other side, his back against the wall and repressing talismans ready.

Wei Qing stayed in the middle of the room, and Wei Ying cloaked her in what he called, ‘essence of ghost’. Her form shimmered, taking on a spectral air. She looked at her hands and arms before casting a confused glance to him. 

“Last minute alteration to plan b, c, d, or whatever this is,” he whispered and winked.

Her expression of tolerant exasperation enhanced her haunting aura. 

The door opened, adding a stream of lantern light to the room. The imposing figure of Wen Ruohan filled the frame, and a gasp came from his mouth. 

“Wen Qing?” 

She fixed her gaze on him, wisps of hair floating about her small frame. Her eyes hardened, almost glowing as she stared him down.

He leaned heavily against the wooden door frame, the lantern slipping from his fingers. It hit the stone floor with a clang, the light flickering out.

“You died. Like Chao-er, Wen Zhuliu, and all the rest. You left me alone.”

Her dark laugh filled the air. “You killed us, Uncle. You killed us with your greed and arrogance.”

Wei Ying held his breath. His fingers twitched in anticipation of throwing the talisman he held there. He needed the man to enter the room and clear the door. Then they could strike.

Wen Ruohan staggered a step forward, his hand pressed against his forehead. “No, no! Not me, dear Niece. It was those others who dared to place themselves above the sun. It is them. They are the ones who deserve your wrath and hatred.”

She shook her head, her image fluctuating under the power of Wei Ying’s illusion. “The land was peaceful before you craved more. The blood of my family, of your family, and the lives of your people taints your hands and poisons your soul, Uncle.”

He moved forward again, causing her to back away. One more step and he cleared the door. Then everything happened at once. Wei Ying threw one, two, three core suppression talismans at his back while Lan Zhan slammed the door shut and charged with Bichen raised. 

Wen Ruohan cried out in surprise and anger, throwing up a shield of resentful energy. He scrambled backward as the silver-blue blade slashed toward him. 

Wei Qing scurried under the sect leader’s arm, barely avoiding his sword as he pulled it out of its scabbard. She ran past Wei Ying and threw up more talismans, sealing the room from any outside help.

“Traitor, traitor!” Wen Ruohan screamed at her as the essence of ghost dissipated.  

Lan Zhan pressed his advantage, determined to keep their enemy off balance. Without his core to draw on, the powerful cultivator had to rely on demonic tricks to meet the strength of Hanguang-jun. The air grew heavy as misty clouds of spirits formed around them.  

They didn’t have too much time. The suppression talismans could fail or fall off at any moment. Wei Ying brought out Chenqing and pulled the resentful spirits gathering in the room to his side. 

Wen Ruohan’s eyes went wide in outrage. “How dare you?!”   

Lan Zhan slipped under his blade and slashed a deep gash in his thigh. Their foe slammed against the bedpost, disrupting the spell sealing his immense core. He roared and charged, his sword glare burning bright yellow. 

The ferocity of his counter attack forced Lan Zhan to shift to the defensive. As the battle continued, Lan Zhan’s energy started to flag under the pressure of Wen Ruohan’s power. Wei Ying wanted to pull out Suibian, but had to contend with an increasing number of angry ghosts craving revenge. Wei Qing dashed forward and threw several needles toward the sect leader. He caught most of them with the arc of his blade, but two embedded themselves into his shoulder, hindering the movement of his arm. 

Wen Ruohan retaliated with a blast of energy from his free hand. Lan Zhan swung around with his sword, taking most of the force. He stumbled backward, nearly losing Bichen in the process. Unable to avoid the rest of Wen Ruohan’s qi burst, Qing-jie took a hit square in the chest, the force throwing her against a massive wardrobe. She crumpled to the ground. 

Furious, Wei Ying tapped into the full power of his silver core and took control of the resentful spirits. With several quick blasts of Chenqing, he ordered them to attack Wen Ruohan. Delighting in their revenge, the spirits swarmed the sect leader, tearing at him with teeth and nails. He swung his blade back and forth, but for every one he vanquished, another took its place. 

Lan Zhan took the opportunity to send Bichen into the fray with such force, he severed Wen Ruohan’s head in one slice. As the body slumped to the ground, Wei Ying dispersed the resentful spirits. Without waiting to catch his breath, he scrambled to Qing-jie’s side.

She groaned and smacked him on the shoulder. “Why do I listen to your absurd plans?” she muttered. “Better yet, why do you listen to his absurd plans?” she asked Lan Zhan as he joined them on the floor.

Wei Ying’s beloved shrugged helplessly. “Is mystery.”

He stuck his tongue out at them before drawing them both into a hug. “Are you okay? Is everyone okay?” he mumbled, his face pressed against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. 

She patted his back and shifted away. “Nothing’s broken.” Another groan escaped her as she got up. “Though I’m going to feel this tomorrow.”

Lan Zhan rose with his usual elegance and retrieved Wen Ruohan’s head, which he stuffed in a qiankun bag. He handed it to Qing-jie. She stared at the bag in confusion.

“Bring to Nie Mingjue in front of entire alliance.”

“Ah, you’re a genius, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying crowed, kissing his beloved’s cheek. “That’s perfect! Even sect letcher Jin Guangshan won’t be able to say anything against you after that.”

She grimaced and thrust it at him. “Fine, but you’re carrying it until we get there.”

He scrunched his nose at that, but tied the bag to his belt. “Well, what now?”

They stared at him as though he said something outrageous.

“What? I worked out the ‘kill Wen Ruohan’ plan, not the ‘what do we do after’ plan,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Can’t take on the rest of Nightless City,” Lan Zhan said with an exasperated sigh. “Best if we leave.”

Qing-jie hummed an agreement before heading to a panel in one of the walls. She drew forth a little spiritual energy and touched the symbol of the sun carved into the wood. “I only saw my uncle go in here once, but I never forgot. It’s hard to forget the contents of his personal treasury.”

Wei Ying rubbed his hands together as the panel swung away, revealing a whole other room. “My, my, what secrets hide in here?” He snatched up their lantern and bounced into the room.

The space was surprisingly small with two walls lined with shelves and a long table set against the far wall. 

Tapping his nose, Wei Ying contemplated their options. He turned to his fuddy duddy. “Will my dearest object to the secret acquisition of a certain number of these items?”

“Secret as in, ‘keep for ourselves’?” Qing-jie asked, holding up an embossed box filled with coins. 

He grinned. “Of course. It is your inheritance, after all.”

Lan Zhan gave him a fond nod and took out another qiankun bag from his sleeve. It was so wonderful to have a partner who kept so much up his sleeves. 

As they rummaged through the multitude of shelves, they discovered several spiritual objects, including a knife Wei Ying thought he should remember. He put it with the rest of their goodies to deal with later. 

When he went over to inspect the books and scrolls scattered across the long table, he waved Lan Zhan over.

“A lot of this seems to be about demonic cultivation and resentful energy. Looks like he collected whatever he could find on the subject. Some of these go back to the beginning of cultivation.”

“Best to take them,” Lan Zhan said and took out yet another bag.

Wei Ying peeked up his beloved’s sleeve. “This is a Wen robe. Where are you hiding all this?”

“Lan secret,” he replied with a smug glint in his eyes.

“Ah, huh,” Wei Ying said with a nod. “Like the silencing spell and the way you Lans never get dirty in your fancy, white robes.”

“Mn.”

“Mn. Yeah. Fine. Keep your secrets from your fated one.” He turned away with a pout only to have Lan Zhan wrap his arms around him.

“Mn. Love my fated one,” he whispered in Wei Ying’s ear, his breath sending a shiver of delight down his spine. 

“Not fair,” Wei Ying responded weakly, enjoying his fiance’s huff of laughter.

Once they took everything they deemed unsafe or too valuable to leave behind, they closed the panel and headed out the way they came. Wei Qing accompanied them back to the front lines in Qinghe. She ignored the glares of disdain the other cultivators gave her and kept her head held high. 

Her neck and shoulders still ached, but she would deal with that later. They not only made it out of Nightless City alive, they brought down a tyrant – just the three of them. And they did it without making any of them vulnerable to the other sects. 

Nie Mingjue and several other sect leaders, including Sect Leader Yao, met them at the gate to the Unclean Realm. The Nie leader stood before everyone and held Wen Xu’s head up high before jamming it onto a tall pole. The crowd gathered with him roared with pleasure.

While Wei Qing did not hold any love for her cruel cousin, a part of her ached with pity for her extended family. 

“You’re back,” Nie Mingjue said as they approached.

Whether he said this to Xian-di and Ji-di or just her, she wasn’t certain. 

“We are,” Xian-di said with a sunshine grin and a careless bow. 

The gruff man eyed him with disapproval. “I hope your cavalier attitude means whatever you were up to was a success?”

“It was.” His eyes sparkled as he gestured to Wei Qing. “And we brought a gift.”

She ignored the whispering cultivators who speculated she was a prisoner and stood in front of one of the most feared and respected leaders in their society. Compared to facing Wen Ruohan in his darkest moments, Nie Mingjue was a mild, spring rain. 

“On behalf of the Wei clan, formerly known as the Dafan Wen, I, Wei Qing, clan leader offer this gift to the leaders of the Sunshot Campaign as a sign of our desire for peace and in defiance of the oppressive actions of Qishan Wen against the rest of the cultivation world.” She bowed and held the qiankun bag out to Nie Mingjue. “Add it to your collection.”

The Nie leader took the bag and opened it. He stared in shock at the contents before pulling out the head of Wen Ruohan. The crowd gasped as he held the gruesome skull high. Once comprehension swept over the people, a roar – twice as loud as before – went up. Amid the shouts of victory, many proclaimed her a hero. Despite knowing what happened, they proclaimed her champion and loyal ally.  

Weary and uninterested in their fickle celebration, she let Xian-di and Ji-di whisk her into the Unclean Realm to find a place to sleep.    

Chapter Text

Jiang Wanyin’s whole body vibrated as he faced the gates of his home. His wounds were unimportant at the moment, as were those gathered around him. He didn’t care about the blood soaked into his robes or those he laid waste to to get here. 

He was home again. 

Reverently, he crossed the threshold, head held high. He did it. He took his home back from the scum Wen-dogs who dared to steal it in the first place. Yes, it took longer than he expected and many good cultivators died, but the victory was worth the loss.

And Wei Wuxian didn’t have anything to do with it. He had succeeded on his own.

Upon entering the main courtyard, he flicked Zidian at the Wen symbol that hung over the lotus flower that represented his clan. Blood soaked the ground his disciples used to train on. Every sect emblem had been desecrated with obscenities or chiseled away. Half the buildings weren’t much more than blackened shells or piles of ash and rubble. 

The defilement against his family and home made him want to hunt down every last Wen-dog and torture them before ending their cursed existence. 

“Take down those damn flags and burn them,” he yelled at his deputy before striding into the sword hall and stopping by his father’s throne. He gripped the arm of the Yunmeng Jiang seat, a wave of heavy fatigue nearly forcing him to his knees. His depleted core left him with little energy to keep him upright. He had used everything he had once again, but it was worth it. Lotus Pier, his home, was worth it. 

Pushing his cultivation was a dangerous way to improve, but he wanted, no, needed to get better. And he had. He had managed to grow the pathetic thing Baoshan Sanren gave him to a respectable core almost the size of his original one. In a few more weeks, he would be better than before and ready to face his former head disciple.  

He had to win; he had to put that traitor in his place if he wanted to face his parents ever again. While rebuilding Lotus Pier and the Jiang ancestral hall would go a long way to restoring the Jiang pride, Wei Wuxian still kept undermining him, his authority. It had to stop. He had to prove the damn street rat was nothing but an arrogant son of a servant. 

“Sect Leader,” his deputy called, rushing into the building. The cultivator bowed, his hands twitching. 

Whatever his deputy had to report had unsettled the man. Great, he didn’t need more bad news. Jiang Cheng gathered his strength and seated himself on his father’s throne. “What is it?” he snapped, his temper fraying with his lack of power. 

“Ah, Sect Leader, a message has come in from Qinghe.”

Of course. What did those fucking, superior leaders want now? They refused to help him free Yunmeng and Lotus Pier. Now that he had, they probably wanted his help with Wen Ruohan. Well, he would, but he was going to negotiate for a large percentage of the Wen treasury first.

“What is it?” He held out his hand.

The disciple passed the note to him and stepped back near the door. Gods, what was the man afraid of? He was Jiang Cheng’s deputy, his right hand. What good was he if he couldn’t maintain a proper air of detached respect?

After rolling his eyes in irritation, he broke the Nie seal and unfolded the piece of paper. Nie Mingjue took out Wen Xu. He snorted in annoyance. Did he have to brag about it? The next few sentences made him jump to his feet, his whole body trembling with anger. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck!! That damn street rat and his stone statue had taken out Wen Ruohan with a fucking Wen’s help! Every time, every time that bastard had to outdo him. Now what leverage did he have? 

He couldn’t claim Wei Wuxian’s treasure as his own. Nor could he bargain for a larger portion. 

“Why are you still here?” he demanded of his deputy. “I suppose you already know what’s in this?”

“The messenger informed everyone of the developments in Qishan,” he replied with a tentative frown. 

He waved the message in the cultivator’s face. “I suppose you think this is good news.”     

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his expression turning to confusion. “The war is over. The allied forces won.”

Jiang Cheng started pacing, his inner agitation driving his drained body. “But we weren’t there!”

“Right. We were here, reclaiming Lotus Pier, our home.”

He turned on the man, his fury tearing through his own body. “Yes, but we have hardly anything to fund repairs. We didn’t take out Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu or Wen Xu. Now, we lost the opportunity to make a significant contribution in ending this war. Aside from recovering our own lands, our participation has been no greater than the smaller sects.”

A hint of disapproval flitted across his deputy’s face, but disappeared quickly. “That is unfortunate, Sect Leader, but can we not rejoice in the knowledge that no more of our people will die or suffer?” 

Jaw tight, Jiang Cheng managed a nod. Compassion and understanding, he needed to show support to those who fought beside him. He didn’t have to like it, but they didn’t need to know that. Later, he would rule them with the same iron will his mother had. For now, he needed to tap into what little he once admired about his father. “Yes, you’re right. It is done. See what you can find in the way of food and alcohol. We’ll hold our own celebration tonight before joining the other sects tomorrow.”

Jin Zixuan didn’t like Lotus Pier. The place was hot and smelled of fish and rotting water vegetation. He didn’t like to swim, as the water never looked clean, and the cuisine burned with too many spices. 

While his mother held the deceased Madame Yu in high regard, he had little affection for any of the Jiangs. Jiang Wanyin’s temperamental personality made any interactions a fragile endeavour best avoided. Jiang Yanli was kind, as her brother and Wei Wuxian insisted, but nothing more, really. Her looks were okay, her cultivation minimal, any other talents almost non-existent, and her eternal looks of longing was a replica of all the other women who wanted to attach themselves to the heir to the wealthiest sect in cultivation society. 

He thought the betrothal was over, he really did. Unfortunately, his father wanted access to Yunmeng Jiang. His power-grubbing sect leader had made his orders clear. Woo Maiden Jiang, marry Maiden Jiang, and clear the way to acquire Yunmeng as a sub-sect of Lanling Jin. 

He was trapped, cornered. His mother offered no help; she wanted the union from the beginning. 

Mianmian couldn’t help him either. His parents never liked his friendship with her and thought she got in the way of any feelings he might develop for Jiang Yanli. 

Well, he helped take back Yunmeng and Lotus Pier, so his father would have leverage with that debt. However, he doubted that was enough. 

He knelt at his table and watched his father attempt to take over the victory celebration in the grand receiving hall in Nightless City. Nie Mingjue scowled at him as though highly offended at the suggestion the Nie leader sit in Wen Ruohan’s throne. His eyes grew wide in shock as his father took the dead Wen leader’s seat as though he had a right to it. 

Did his father have no shame?     

If anyone had a right to it, it was Wen Qing. She was the defeated leader’s closest living relative and played a huge part in his death. Even Wei Wuxian or Hanguang-jun had a better claim, and he hated both of them. 

Before anyone could object, a loud crack echoed through the hall and the stone throne crumbled under his father’s body. He gaped at the sight of his foolish parent tumbling into a pile of rubble, his own expression one of embarrassed horror.

Wei Ying hid behind Lan Zhan, unable to keep his giggles under control. The look on Jin Guangshan’s face delighted him to no end. His beloved patted his leg, his body shaking ever so slightly with internal laughter. Beside him, Nie Huaisang leaned around Qing-jie and tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Wei-xiong, was that you?”

He managed to sit upright, but couldn’t remove the wide grin from his face. “It was ugly,” he replied with a shrug. “I just wanted to improve the atmosphere.”

“And what if my da-ge or Er-ge sat there?” his friend asked with a pout, though his eyes twinkled.

“Don’t worry. I set the trap for Jin Guangshan and his arrogant posterior.”

Huaisang flicked open his fan and dissolved into a fit of giggles while Qing-jie kept her head down, her lips twitching.

Meanwhile, the Jin leader huffed and puffed, his face burning red as he hauled himself to his feet. He batted away the hands of the servants trying to help him and smoothed out his robes.

“Well, for such an auspicious palace, this place has certainly seen better days,” he said, taking on a superior posture. “Well, since someone has to host this gathering, I shall endeavour to do my best as the eldest sect leader of the three,” he paused and tilted his head toward Jiang Cheng, “sorry, Sect Leader Jiang, four great sects. Unless, anyone objects?”

“I’d like to object to his existence,” Qing-jie muttered, her fingers gripped tight to the edge of her table

“Of course not,” Sect Leader Yao interjected before anyone could respond.

“Only right,” threw in Sect Leader Ouyang with much nodding.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes at the two while Huaisang hid behind his fan and stuck his tongue out at the two irritating leaders. 

“Fine,” Jin Guangshan said before anyone else could speak. He gestured to the servants to set up his table below the shattered throne. “Now, first, I would like to take this opportunity to continue our good fortune by proposing to reinstate the betrothal of my son, Jin Zixuan to Maiden Jiang Yanli as my wife and her sworn sister Madame Yu desired.”

For a fleeting moment, Wei Ying wanted to step in like he did before his time jump. However, it wasn’t his place. 

‘ It wasn’t your place the last time either ,’ his core told him. ‘Sure, you saved Jiang Cheng from having to make a decision, but they got married anyway.’

‘ You’re not helping my self-esteem ,’ he retorted, wishing he could rid himself of his internal companion.

‘No you don’t. The last time you donated us to that serial killer in waiting, you spent two days in agony and a short lifetime in misery. You love us and would be lost without us.’

He refused to admit Yinyun was right.

Jiang Cheng stood and bowed to Jin Guangshan. “Yunmeng Jiang would be honoured to enter such a blessed alliance with Lanling Jin.” Beside him, Jiang Yanli took on the appearance of a desperate and hopeful puppy. This was all she ever wanted, to marry Jin Zixuan. But did he love her? From the slight green tinge to his skin, Wei Ying figured the sect heir wasn’t there yet.

Sect Leader Yao raised his cup as he stood. “What a joyous occasion. To Jin Zixuan and Maiden Jiang, may they have a long and prosperous union!”

The rest of the crowd cheered and downed their drink. 

‘ Some things change. Some things stay the same ,’ Yinyun declared with a sigh. 

Wei Ying wasn’t sure what to do with his melodramatic core, but he had to agree with the sentiment.

Jin Guangshan had a servant fill his cup again. “Sect Leader Jiang, you and I can hammer out the details of the betrothal later. For now, I propose another toast. To the hero of the Sunshot Campaign, the honourable Hanguang-jun, who, with the assistance of two allies , defeated the tyrant Wen Ruohan and brought an end to this tragic war.”

The temperature in the palace dropped a couple of degrees as Lan Zhan clenched his fists and made to rise. Wei Ying placed a hand on his arm and gave a small shake of his head. 

Nie Mingjue got up and gave the Jin leader a sour glare. “To Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and Wei Qing, without whom victory would still be out of reach.”

“Here, here,” responded several others and raised their cups while quite a few muttered to each other. 

Whispers of outrage and offence flitted through the air at the idea of honouring the son of a servant and a Wen-dog. Well, it was easy to guess who had started those vicious comments.

One of the Jin cultivators seated beside Jin Zixuan rose, a sneer twisting his features. “Of course, it is only right to acknowledge Hanguang-jun. His strength is well known. However, I find it difficult to praise an upstart servant, who abandoned his leader and a Wen-dog, who killed her master. Surely such dishonourable actions overshadow any esteem their part in Wen Ruohan’s death might bring.”

Nie Mingue turned his fierce scowl on the Jin, but Lan Xichen whispered in his ear before he could speak again.

“Quite true,” Sect Leader Yao added. “For two such disloyal cultivators to insert themselves into the heroic deeds of the righteous Hanguang-jun is shameful.”

“Such grasping behaviour is unworthy of praise,” Sect Leader Ouyang threw in.

Wei Ying held onto Lan Zhan’s arm, doing his best to keep his beloved from taking heads. 

‘Let him ,’ came the comment in his head. ‘The world will be a better place without their poison .’

‘ We can’t just kill everyone who spouts poison ,’ Wei Ying replied, shocking himself at his sensible response. ‘ If we do that, they’ll never leave us alone .’

The annoying Jin snickered and glared at Wei Ying as though he personally caused the war. “In truth, all I’ve heard of Wei Wuxian’s skills are rumours too fantastical to be true. Perhaps, he would honour us with a demonstration?”

Laughter spilled out of Wei Ying. They were all so easily threatened by the slightest wind. “And whom would I spar with, you?”

“How about me?” Jiang Cheng snarled and stepped forward into the wide space separating the rows of guests. 

Chapter Text

Nie Mingjue wanted to hit something or someone. Of all the ridiculous aspects that came along with being a sect leader, having to put up with political bullshit aggravated him the most. Of course Xichen would recommend caution and patience while Jin Guangshen and his irritating nephew spewed their nonsense. Then Yao and Ouyang had to throw in their poison as though they played any part in the victory of the Sunshot Campaign. 

Respecting elders was all very good and fine, but such regard without thought too easily allowed for unjust behaviour to go unchecked.  

“That’s enough!” he shouted, slamming Baxia’s point into the stone floor. “You all challenge the honour of those who fought and risked their lives to defeat our common enemy. It is disgraceful.”

“I agree,” Hanguang-jun said as he stood and stepped forward. “It is shameful to belittle the contribution of Wei Ying and Wei Qing. Without them, Wen Ruohan would still live.”

Sect Leader Yao waved a hand. “Hanguang-jun, it is not necessary for you to lessen your achieve…”

The slug didn’t get any farther, freezing as Lan Wangji turned his ice glare on him. It was impressive. The air actually dropped in temperature. 

“Foolish,” the second Lan growled through clenched teeth. 

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders sagged as he tugged on his fiance’s sleeve. “Come on, Lan Zhan. Let’s take Qing-jie home. The children are waiting.”

Jiang Wanyin snorted. “Running away, Wei Wuxian? What happened to the arrogant brat who gloated over the smallest accomplishment and couldn’t wait to show off his skills?”

The Wei cultivator frowned with exasperation. “He grew up, Sect Leader Jiang. He went to war and soaked his hands in blood – like many of us here. Along the way, he realised what was important, what was precious, and that’s what I want to focus on now.” His silver gaze slid around the room like a parent disappointed in his children. “I can’t play politics; I fully admit this. These games you all take part in are beyond me. I’ve realised I’m a simple person looking forward to a simple life. I want to raise my family, love my husband, and help those in need. That’s all.”

Xichen raised his cup in a toast. “Well said, Wuxian. To take care of our loved ones and help those in need, those are honourable and righteous goals.”

“Thank-you, Xichen-ge,” Wei Wuxian said with a bow.

“Fancy sentiments to get out of a challenge,” Jiang Wanyin snarled. “Too bad you couldn’t live by those words before causing the destruction of my home.”

Wei Wuxian dragged a hand through his hair, pulling strands from his semi-tidy ponytail. “I said I would duel you, Sect Leader Jiang, and I will. Personally, I’d like to let it all go. Every clan, every person has lost so much in the last year, more fighting seems disrespectful to those who died.”

Mingjue couldn’t help but agree. They may have won the war, but there remained a tangled mess to clean up: prisoners to interrogate and deal with, civilians to sort through, borders to redefine, homes to rebuild, and more that he didn’t want to think about.

As he pushed aside these thoughts, he noticed Meng Yao scuttle over to Jin Guangshan’s side and whisper in his ear. The Jin leader scowled at first as though offended with the man’s close proximity, but then his expression turned somewhat sly and satisfied. After the odious sect leader nodded and waved him away, Meng Yao turned to the rest of the room. 

“If I may, honourable sect leaders,” said the newly recognised Jin as he bowed to everyone. 

The sight of his former deputy working with Jin Guangshan did little to improve Mingjue’s mood. As one of the few contributions to the war from the Jin, Meng Yao received the name Jin Guangyao and a position as an assistant to Jin Zixuan. 

“This humble one would like to suggest an alternative to a duel at this time.” He paused, giving room for any objections. Since no one spoke, he continued. “In an effort to regain a sense of normalcy, Lanling Jin has proposed to hold a night hunt at Phoenix Mountain this autumn. This lowly one would like to put forth the option of holding a duel between Sect Leader Jiang and Young Master Wei at this time.”

Whispers and comments of approval drifted through the room. Perhaps it was a good suggestion. Maybe it would give people time to mourn and move on. 

Wei Ying paced the duelling ring set up by the Jin at Phoenix Mountain. He wasn’t anxious or in a hurry as he let his muscles warm up with a few stretches and the occasional swing of Suibian. Off to the side, Lan Zhan waited with a-Miao and a-Yi in his lap and the boys bouncing in their seats to his right. On his left, sat Lan Xichen with baby a-Yuan, who took great pleasure in gumming on the Lan leader’s fingers. Every few seconds, Nie Mingjue would lean in and tickle the boy, making Xichen-ge smile and a-Yuan giggle.   

Delighted with the picture, Wei Ying wished he could take a moment to preserve the image on paper instead of participating in this duel. Fortunately, Huaisang seemed to think Wei Ying’s family a worthy subject and had left his da-ge’s side to draw them from a better angle. The sooner this foolishness was done, the better. Why Jiang Cheng wanted to go through with this, he didn’t understand. Was it leftover bitterness from their childhood, an outlet for his grief, or the unending hatred inherited from Madame Yu?

When the purple swirl of sparking anger that used to be his shidi entered the ring, Wei Ying greeted him with a bow. Jiang Cheng snorted and turned up his nose, his angular features twisted in disgust.

“Is this really necessary, Jiang Wanyin?” Wei Ying asked, wanting to give his former brother one more chance. “After everything that has happened, can’t we part amicably?”

“Fuck you, Wei Wuxian. Today, I’m going to put you in your place once and for all,” he growled as he prepared to fight.

Behind him, Jiang Yanli took the seat between Madame Jin and Jin Zixuan. The Jin heir gave her a relatively comfortable smile while his mother patted her hand. 

The night before the duel, his former shijie showed up at the door to his and Lan Zhan’s quarters. As she stood before him with wide eyes rimmed with tears, she pleaded with him. She wanted him to lose. Jiang Cheng needed to win for Yunmeng, for their sect. If he lost, it would greatly affect their ability to rebuild the Jiang sect. She promised to get her brother to let him keep some of the money and his core if he let Jiang Cheng win.  

How generous. Wei Ying didn’t answer her. Instead, he bowed and told her he would give Jiang Cheng a chance to end this amicably, that the rest was up to him. Of course, the jealous sect leader wouldn’t back down. His pride wouldn’t let him. 

Wei Ying offered her an awkward bow, caught between the future he remembered and the past he lived. As much as his thoughts on Shijie wavered, putting distance between them should keep her alive. He wished her happiness in her life and marriage, which wouldn’t be easy among the Jin. At least, this time she wouldn’t be someone  Jin Guangshan could use as leverage over him and he wouldn’t be a liability the sect leader could hold over her.    

“Esteemed guests, venerated leaders, before this duel begins, this lowly one shall put forth the requirements for victory and the reparations owed upon said victory,” Jin Guangyao said from his position by Jin Guangshan and Jin Zixuan.

Wei Ying hated this. It was supposed to be a clean break - they fight, he wins, they go home. Then the other sects got involved and decided on rules, regulations, and rewards. Where were they the last time he seceded from Yunmeng Jiang? 

“This is not a fight to the death, but to yield. Should either side receive a life-threatening injury, yet choose not to yield, their chosen ally – Sect Heir Jin Zixuan for Sect Leader Jiang, and Sect Leader Nie for Young Master Wei – reserves the right to call the match on their behalf,” the Jin went on, his pleasant smile pasted on. “No talismans or tricks are acceptable, spiritual weapons only.”

Lan Zhan had reacted poorly to this at first. Wei Ying didn’t care. Let Jiang Cheng use Zidian; it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Should Sect Leader Jiang win, Young Master Wei shall turn over his sword Suibian and his portion of the treasure recovered from the Sunshot Campaign; plus, have his core sealed and never cultivate again. Also, Young Master Wei shall never step foot in Yunmeng territory again.”

A rumble of surprise went through the crowd. Wei Ying hadn’t protested when Jiang Wanyin put his demands forth. He doubted anyone could seal his core now, and he lived one life without it already, so he could do it again. Besides, then he wouldn’t have to listen to Yinyun’s constant input.    

“Should Young Master Wei win,” Meng Yao paused as twitters of laughter and snide remarks ran through the Jin, Yao, and Jiang sects, “Sect Leader Jiang shall declare all debts owed to Yunmeng Jiang as paid and never bring them up again. Sect Leader Jiang shall also turn over the town of Yiling and the surrounding area, including the riverway, to the newly established Wei clan. Sect Leader Jiang shall also keep his snark and hatred to himself and accord Young Master Wei and his family the respect and courtesy due all cultivators and civilians.”

They made Wei Ying come up with that. Qing-jie had suggested the part about Yiling, and he decided it was a good idea. Aside from that, he didn’t want anything from Jiang Cheng. Once, he thought his former shidi had the potential to be a great leader and cultivator, but his mother’s influence destroyed that potential. 

‘Murderer, murderer, killer, killer, killer,’ Yinyun sang.

‘Quiet. You promised not to comment today.’

‘Can’t be helped. They’re all murderers, murderers, murderers. He killed and killed and killed, innocent and guilty alike .’

Wei Ying wanted to argue that he had blood on his hands too, but Yinyun always contradicted him. He killed when cornered, in defence, when left no choice. Wei Ying wasn’t sure that mattered when it all ended in death. Even if others drove him to it, he lost control; he arrogantly believed he could dominate a power nearing the greatness of a celestial being. 

‘Now, we’re a part of you. Isn’t that grand ?’ The multiple voices of Yinyun laughing made him shiver.

The annoying Jin cousin with the sour face stood in the stands. “And I reserve the right to fight Wei Wuxian before his core is sealed,” he declared to the cajoling cheers of his friends.

He let a Yiling Patriarch smile spread across his lips. “Would you like to go first? I’d like a little warm up.” 

Jin Sour glared at him and clicked his tongue before sitting down, his skin paler than before. 

“Shall we start?” Jin Guangyao asked, gesturing to the two of them. 

“Why not?” Wei Ying said with a sigh. The sooner they started, the sooner he could cuddle his husband and children.

“Get on with it,” Jiang Cheng growled, his face almost as purple as his robes. 

After unsheathing Suibian, Wei Ying stepped forward and met his former martial brother in the centre of the ring. They traded bows, the Jiang leader’s more of a dismissive nod. 

Impatient as always, Jiang Cheng charged with a yell, swinging Sandu in a swift arc. Wei Ying stepped aside and let him pass. He flicked his wrist, slicing off a piece of his opponent’s hair ribbon. 

With a low growl and a clenched jaw, Jiang Cheng glared daggers at him. “Are you gonna play or take this seriously?”

Wei Ying shrugged a shoulder. “Probably play, though I promise to do it seriously.” He parried a blow and traded a few hits just to please his children. They cheered him on from the sidelines, though the girls seemed more interested in tangling each other up with Lan Zhan's ribbon. 

“Jiang Cheng, couldn’t we have resolved this in private? You know, get some Emperor’s Smile, trade a few blows, get drunk, and giggle over ridiculous things?”

“I, fucking, hate you,” his former shidi panted as he worked to find an opening. “I am not your Jiang Cheng! You have no right to call me that anymore!”

Wei Ying caught his wrist and pushed him away. “Can’t you admit we’re better off respectfully going our separate ways? I’ve always frustrated and annoyed you, and you’ve always nagged me.”

“Oh, I’ll admit it,” he gasped, attempting to get under Suibian. “I regret ever thinking you could be my subordinate. You are an arrogant street rat, who never knew his place. I wish my father never dragged you in from the gutter he found you in.”

“It was an alley, not a gutter,” Wei Ying said with an exasperated frown. He avoided Sandu easily and ran Suibian up a purple sleeve, slicing through the fine material.

Jiang Cheng backed away, his scowl darkening as he removed his outer robe and tossed it aside. “I should have set my dogs on you then.”

“Just think, you can get as many dogs as you want now.” He attacked with a flurry of blows before sending Jiang Cheng sprawling and Sandu flying to the side. 

Sect Leader Yao yelped and ducked as the blade nearly skewered him and embedded into the back of his chair. 

Sect Leader Jiang leaped to his feet, Zidian sparking as he flicked the whip forward. Wei Ying danced around the purple stream while Jiang Cheng sent surge after surge at him. Somewhat bored, he caught the whip with Suibian and yanked. His opponent went flying past him and hit the ground hard. 

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, Sect Leader Jiang, so why don’t you yield and we can all go enjoy a nice banquet. You’ve never beaten me before. Why do you think you can now?”

“You, fucking, bastard! You’re always the best, aren’t you? What am I, nothing in your shadow? What should I do, grovel at your feet and praise you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pushed himself off the ground and charged, summoning Sandu as he did so. 

Wei Ying dodged the blade and Zidian, the whip nearly catching his arm. “Ooh, you almost got me there.” He caught the purple stream with his hand and sent a charge of silver energy through it. 

Jiang Cheng screamed as Zidian burned bright before crumbling from his finger. The sect leader clenched his wrist, his hand shaking, the skin blackened and cracked, oozing blood. 

“That’s cheating!” Jin Sour shouted, leaping to his feet. He jabbed a finger toward Wei Ying. “You dare!”

Wei Ying frowned, one hand on his hip. “I used spiritual energy. How’s that cheating?”

The flustered man sputtered, his head swivelling about as he looked for someone to agree with him. The rest of the crowd muttered among themselves until Nie Mingjue caught their attention. 

“Spiritual energy is fair game,” he said, his hard gaze on Jin Guangshen as though challenging him to disagree.

The Jin leader looked like a steaming potato about to explode, but he nodded. “Fair game,” he grumbled, much to the disappointment of his nephew. 

Jiang Yanli hid part of her face behind her hands as tears gathered in her eyes. She sent Wei Ying a pleading look. She wanted her brother to win no matter what it cost him. 

“Do you yield, Sect Leader Jiang?” Jin Guangyao asked, his expression blank, though his hands twitched. 

“No,” Jiang Cheng gasped as he stumbled to his feet. He set his eyes on Wei Ying and brought Sandu up. “I will gut you,” he spat and went for Wei Ying with a wild pattern of thrusts.

He blocked each one before disarming his former shidi and sending him sprawling again. Jiang Cheng groaned out loud, writhing in the dirt. 

“Sect Leader Jiang yields!” Jin Zuxian shouted, rising from his seat.

Beside him Jiang Yanli hid her face in Madame Jin’s arms, her shoulders shaking.

“No!” Jiang Cheng roared. “No!” He tried to get up, but Wei Ying held Suibian an inch from his throat. 

“Sect Leader Jiang, enough,” Wei Ying said, hiding his pity. “Yield.”

Tears of outrage ran down Jiang Cheng’s face. “Why is it always you?” he whispered. “Why couldn’t you keep to your place? Why do you always have to be the hero? The winner?”

Several Jin and Jiang healers rushed forward to tend the Jiang leader’s wounds. Wei Ying sheathed Suibian and went back to his family. 

Jin Guangyao came to his side. “In accordance with the guidelines set forth at the beginning of this duel, the winner is Young Master Wei.”

A cheer went through the crowd.

Ignoring those around him, Wei Ying scooped up a-Yi from Lan Zhan’s lap and let his fiance guide him and their brood back to their rooms. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang followed behind with a-Yuan while Nie Mingjue left to collect the deeds to Yiling and the surrounding area.

Chapter Text

Nie Huaisang propped his feet on the side frame of the daybed in his guest room and lifted his bottle of wine to his nose. The subtle mixture of fruits and flowers created a unique and refreshing flavour, sweet but not overwhelming. 

“You know, this could rival Emperor’s Smile,” he said to Wei Wuxian.

His friend sprawled on the floor amid a cloud of pillows and several empty jars. “Uncle Four is quite proud of it,” he replied, his words slurring together. 

Two weeks had passed since the infamous duel between him and Sect Leader Jiang, and the cultivation world still hadn’t finished with the fallout. Tired of the shouting matches between Da-ge and almost every other sect leader who thought it a good idea to challenge the newly appointed (and reluctant) Chief Cultivator, Huaisang took refuge in Tùzǐ Cūn. The improvements in the former Burial Mounds still amazed him. 

“So which of your children decided on Rabbit Village as the new name?” he asked, lazily tapping one foot against the black, bamboo wall. 

Wei-xiong giggled and opened another jar. “Mm. Yinmiao wanted White Petal Mountain because of all the white petals in the air. Ziyi suggested Rabbit Hill because she loves Lan Zhan’s herd of rabbits. A-Yuan’s biggest contribution was drool. Meilin wanted Slicing Sword Mountain, and Xiaotong suggested Bounding Bunny Village. In the end, everyone chose Rabbit Hill, but decided Rabbit Village was better because it’s more of a mountain than a hill. Personally, I liked Bounding Bunny, but that’s ‘cause it’s fun to say.” He hiccuped and drank some more. “And I wanted to see Lan Qiren’s face when he found out his dearest nephew lives in Bounding Bunny.” 

Huaisang threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Ah, that would have been priceless. Da-ge wants to come visit.”

His friend downed yet another jar, his eyes bleary and face flushed. “The wedding’s in a month.” He held up two fingers and stared at them until one curled back down. “One month, though he could visit before then.”

“Don’t tempt him. He’s still trying to adjust to being Chief Cultivator. Nie Zonghui found him hiding in his wardrobe after a visit with a couple of sect leaders unhappy with their share of the treasure from Nightless City. They didn’t have anything to do with the war, but felt entitled anyway.”

Wei-xiong rested his head on his hand. “I’m surprised he accepted. He didn’t before, you know. No. He didn’t. ‘Course that left the way open for Jin Guangslug to get in.” He paused and belched. “Oh, that’s better. ‘Course, you took over after all that death and dismemberment stuff.” He gave a reckless laugh. “You made a pretty good Chief Cultivator, surprised everyone.” 

As Huaisang tried to figure out what his friend was talking about, he almost jumped when Wei Wuxian grabbed his hands and leaned close, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry you lost him last time, you know. I never told you that when you brought me back. I’m thankful you did, but you shouldn’t have sacrificed Mo Xuanyu to resurrect me. Poor kid. Then the whole Jin mess came out, and the –” he made a cutting gesture on his arms and legs– “dismemberment thing.” His hair fell out of his ribbon as he shook his head and sniffed. “It was so sad. Da-ge never deserved that, never.”

Stunned, Huaisang didn’t know what to do. Nothing the man before him said made sense. “Wei-xiong, what are you talking about? Da-ge isn’t dead. He’s fine.”

Wei Wuxian patted him on the head. “I know. I know, and we need to keep him that way. I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”

“I’m not sad,” he managed as his friend pulled Huaisang’s head to his chest and stroked his hair.

“Good. Good. You shouldn’t be sad. No one should be sad, not even Jiang Cheng, but he’s hopeless. I think Madame Yu pickled him in vinegar.”

Huaisang tried to pull away, but Wei Wuxian only tightened his hug. “Jin Guangshan can be sad – and Jin Sourface – and Jin Guangyao. That Su pickle can too – annoying Lan Zhan wanna be. How dare he even imagine himself anything like my Lan Zhan. Jin Guangyao probably fluffed his ego.” He paused and pressed his forehead against Huaisang’s. “Jin Guangshan and his daddy’s boy shouldn’t have done that to Da-ge. Da-ge shouldn’t have killed innocent people, but everyone did that. Except Hanguang-jun. He didn’t. He took care of a-Yuan. But Jin Guangyao shouldn’t have been so cruel.”

Before Huaisang could clarify anything, Wei-xiong flopped backward and curled up with the cushions. 

“Lan Zhan, where are you? Your Wei Ying needs you. These pillows aren’t near as comfortable or as warm.” His words petered out as he started to snore.

It took Huaisang quite a while before he managed to move. He left his rooms and wandered down the hall to his friends’ private quarters. Still numb from the confusing, drunken, ramble Wei-xiong dumped on him, he hesitated a moment before knocking.

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji greeted upon opening the door. He peered over Huaisang’s shoulder.

“He’s asleep on my floor,” he told the second jade, somewhat stunned by the sight of the impeccable Lan in simple, evening robes and hair undone. The man truly was too beautiful to exist in this mundane world. “He may have had a little too much to drink.”

“Mn,” Lan-xiong grunted before turning to his gaggle of children. “A-Lin, a-Tong, please watch over your siblings. I will be right back.”

Meilin gave a cheeky, toothy grin. “No problem, Baba. Go collect a-Die.”

The honourable Hanguang-jun gave a huff that Huaisang suspected might have been an actual laugh. He closed the door and gestured for Huaisang to lead the way.

He flicked out his fan and covered part of his face as they walked. “Wei-xiong really is quite drunk,,” he said with a worried tone, watching the Lan from the corner of his eye. “He babbled on about Da-ge dying at the hands of Meng Yao and told me all kinds of things I don’t understand like dismemberment and sacrifices.” He sniffed, letting his eyes water and his hands shake. “I don’t understand, Lan-xiong. What does he mean? Da-ge can’t die!”

Beside him, the usually stoic, unemotional Lan hesitated ever so slightly. 

Huaisang pushed his luck and grasped his sleeve, causing them both to stop. “Da-ge can’t die, Lan-xiong.”

Those intense, golden eyes peered into him before the Lan nodded. “Will talk to Wei Ying. Will let him decide what to explain tomorrow.”

Before Huaisang could dig for more, the man swept into his room, scooped up his husband, and left. As he watched them go, his thoughts tumbled over each other. Whatever they knew, he would find out. No one would hurt his Da-ge.

To be continued…