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Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian was losing sleep. He could feel it as he browsed the street stall’s pins and combs. His eyes were glossed over, colors became blurs, and everything was too bright.

“I like this one.” He pointed to a wooden comb carved with some kind of floral design, though he couldn’t tell what exactly. They all looked the same to him.

Lan Wangji paid the vendor, then handed the comb to Wei Wuxian.

“Ah, thank you, Lan Zhan. But I think that’s the last time you’re going to spoil me for today.”

“For today,” Lan Wangji said. “How much longer will you be traveling?”

“Hmm, not sure. Maybe a few more days. Unless you want me to come back with you to Gusu?”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “My tasks there would only bore you. If there are still places you wish to visit here, then you should visit them.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. He flipped the comb over in his hand once, then twice.

“Will you visit Yunmeng?” Lan Wangji asked.

“Yunmeng? I would, but… I don’t think I want to be anywhere near Lotus Pier right now.”

“Jiang Wanyin?”

“You could say that.” There was more to it, though Wei Wuxian didn’t say what.

“Mn. Then it’s probably for the best.”

Wei Wuxian gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t think too poorly of him, alright? Probably best if you don’t think about him at all.”

Lan Wangji nodded. “Alright. Be safe while I’m gone.”

“I will,” Wei Wuxian said. “Just don’t miss me too much!”

Lan Wangji smiled, and held Wei Wuxian’s hand in his, right there on the street.

A week had passed since Lan Wangji’s return to Gusu. Wei Wuxian traveled alone, town to town, to see what had changed, and to see what had remained the same since his death.

In the evenings, Wei Wuxian dropped off Little Apple at the nearest stable, and afterward, he checked into the inn, using the money Lan Wangji had lent him. He was ready for bed at Hai, accustomed to the Lan schedule. He had also grown accustomed to Lan Wangji’s presence beside him in bed, which he sorely missed, but at least he wouldn’t bother Lan Wangji with his nightmares.

Sometimes, the two of them would tell each other their nightmares, and then they’d exchange soft touches and kisses until they forgot their nightmares completely.

But Wei Wuxian had not told Lan Wangji of the nightmares that began ever since they crossed the border of Hubei.

That night, Wei Wuxian dreamed he was back in Lotus Pier. It reeked of blood.

The bodies in the courtyard were fresh, cut down by sword wounds that tore through muscle and bone. Even in his dream, Wei Wuxian recognized their faces.

When he looked up, he saw someone standing at the entrance to the throne room.

“Jiang Cheng!”

Wei Wuxian sprinted towards where Jiang Cheng stood, though he had no idea why he needed to reach him, only that he had to, until he tripped over the corpse of one of his shidis and fell on the ground.

He got up on his elbows, and he saw his dead sister lying in front of him.

Wei Wuxian scrambled to his feet. He needed to reach Jiang Cheng—at least whatever it was that looked like Jiang Cheng—but he could not tear his gaze away from Jiang Yanli. Her eyes were open, terrified, and blood flowed freely from her throat. But she had not died at Lotus Pier. Her body should not be here.

He looked up again, and the dreamscape had changed to Nightless City.

All around him, cultivators waged war against a mob of fierce corpses. No one made a move to attack Wei Wuxian, as if he wasn’t there at all. Only one figure seemed to notice his presence; Jiang Cheng stood at the top of the stairs leading to the Scorching Sun Palace; and although it was hard to tell from such a distance, it looked like Jiang Cheng was staring back at him.

Wei Wuxian took one last glance at Jiang Yanli’s body before he began to ascend the stairs two steps at a time. When he reached the top, he was out of breath and had arrived just in time to see the doors to the palace close. When he pushed them back open, the dreamscape changed again.

The interior of the Scorching Sun Palace had become the ancestral hall of Lotus Pier. It looked the same as when he and Lan Wangji had visited a year ago. Jiang Cheng stood in front of the altar, facing away from him.

Wei Wuxian was about to call out Jiang Cheng’s name again, but he stopped short when the other suddenly turned around.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes were pitch black.

“What are you, and what do you want?” Wei Wuxian asked.

The form that looked like Jiang Cheng lowered its gaze as if it were guilty, or sad. A trick, Wei Wuxian thought. He instinctively reached for Chenqing, but it was missing from his belt. Then the ground beneath him split, and the ancestral hall collapsed into rubble and ash.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian screamed.

And he was buried alive in his dream.

The next morning, when Wei Wuxian woke up, he was certain he was dying: his heart was beating way too fast, and he had never felt his body ache so much in his entire life—but the pain only lasted for a few seconds. He would have fallen asleep again, but then he noticed the walls of his inn room strangely looked a lot like the architecture of Lotus Pier.

And the strangest thing of all, Wei Wuxian realized, was that he had a golden core.

* * *

The kitchens of Lotus Pier were, technically speaking, open to anyone who knew how to use them. There were designated cooks to feed the disciples living there, though the disciples could prepare their own meals whenever they were in the mood.

Lu Xiuying was currently in that mood, and she would dare say that this was her best batch of congee yet.

“Try it!” she said, smiling, and offered a spoonful to her twin brother.

Lu Huiying made a face.

“I promise you I didn’t put fish in it this time,” Xiuying said.

“I like fish,” Huiying corrected. “It’s just that the fish you put in last time was bad fish.”

“Well, this time I put in chicken, and I checked to make sure it wasn’t bad before I put it in. Come on, try it!”

Huiying carefully took the spoon in his hand and blew on it. He tasted the congee, and then his eyes lit up, before a frown formed on his face.

“I mean.” Huiying smacked his lips. “I guess it’s… not terrible. What did you put in it?”

“Other than the chicken, which I shredded this morning, I put in some ginger, garlic chives, a little bit of white pepper, and probably a couple of other things, but I forgot what they were.”

“You had time to prepare all that?”

“Everything besides the chicken was already prepared by the cooks yesterday. And I used a recipe I found on one of the tables.”

“Oh,” Huiying said. “Well, that explains a lot. Maybe you should stick to following recipes from now on.”

Xiuying grimaced. “Probably.” She had not done so for her last batch of congee, which had resulted in a culinary disaster of a foul, salty smell, and of watery rice spilled onto the floor.

They sampled a few more spoonfuls of the congee, then left the kitchens to return to the disciples’ quarters. The others would likely be waking up about now, judging by the sun’s position just above the distant mountains. Xiuying liked to imagine that, once everyone was properly dressed, they would all head back to the kitchens to share the congee, then fight over any leftover meat buns from the day before. She couldn’t imagine a meat bun not worth fighting over, unless you had let it spoil.

The other thing on Xiuying’s mind was sword forms. It had become routine to go through the drills in her head during the walks from one building of Lotus Pier to the other, and sometimes she went through the drills in bed at night, and then again in the early mornings.

That is what distracted her when she and her brother bumped straight into Jiang-zongzhu, who looked like he had just emerged from his own quarters: his hair was not tied properly in its usual bun, and he looked confused, like he couldn’t remember what he was doing or where he was supposed to go.

“Jiang-zongzhu!” Xiuying exclaimed. “Sorry, we… didn’t see you there.” What she really wanted to say was, Why do you look like that? But that would have been rude, and too vague, and then Jiang-zongzhu would be mad.

Jiang-zongzhu stared at them, as if they were complete strangers. “It’s… fine.”

The twins exchanged a look. Then they continued walking towards the disciples’ quarters.

“Hey, wait.”

They paused, and turned around.

“What day is it?” Jiang-zongzhu asked.

Xiuying hesitated, then told him.

“Alright.” Jiang-zongzhu clapped his hands together once, and bounced on the balls of his feet, both of which were highly uncharacteristic of him to do so; and then he said in a loud, enthusiastic voice, “Well, I’m going to be off for the next, say, four hours or so, so you kids hold the fort while I’m gone, I’m sure you’ll all do a great job, don’t drown in the lake, and keep your heads out of trouble, okay, good talk, bye!”

The twins watched with wide eyes, dumbfounded, as Jiang-zongzhu ran straight towards the woods.

“Did he just… compliment us?” Huiying asked.

Xiuying was speechless.

* * *

Wei Wuxian would have liked to stay at Lotus Pier to fool around with Jiang Cheng’s body. In fact, one of the first things he had done after he woke up was find the nearest lotus pond, look at his reflection in the water, hold his hair in two ponytails on the sides of his head, and make funny faces.

Then he realized that somewhere out there, Jiang Cheng was probably stuck in Wei Wuxian’s own body, and that he was—at best—extremely furious, and—at worst—looking for the least painful way to chop off Wei Wuxian’s balls.

Wei Wuxian did not feel the presence of another soul in Jiang Cheng’s body. So, unless Jiang Cheng’s soul had been utterly obliterated like Mo Xuanyu’s, it should be safely throwing a fit inside Wei Wuxian’s own body, somewhere near the inn he had stayed at last night. (He really hoped it wasn’t the same case as Mo Xuanyu, or he would never forgive himself for biting his lip suggestively at his reflection in the pond.)

When Wei Wuxian ran into the two Jiang disciples, his suspicions were confirmed: it was indeed the next day, and it was not a dream, and it was perhaps the strangest thing that had ever happened to him.

He stopped running when he arrived at a secluded part of the woods, just on the outskirts of Lotus Pier. There was one last thing he had to do to make sure his conclusion was right: he willed Zidian to life, and whipped himself on his left arm.

Nothing happened. Possession was out of the question. He winced from the searing pain, though it did not hurt as badly as the last time he was struck by it when he had his own coreless body.

That was another thing. He did not want to dwell on the fact that he had his core back. He wouldn’t have it for long, anyway.

But the only way to reach Jiang Cheng was by sword. He needed a core to do that.

Wei Wuxian had grabbed Sandu on the way out of Jiang Cheng’s quarters, and now he unsheathed it. He had wielded it a few times as a kid, back when he and Jiang Cheng sometimes traded swords for fun. It had been years since he last wielded Suibian, but the process of mounting Sandu was easy, and familiar, and it felt like coming home.

“I’m coming to find you as fast as I can, Jiang Cheng. Please don’t be too mad at me.”

Wei Wuxian steadied his balance, and took off to the skies.

* * *

“I have never been more mad at that Wei Wuxian ever in my life.”

Little Apple grunted in response.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng said, in Wei Wuxian’s body and voice. He shook the apple-tied-to-a-stick in front of the donkey’s face. “And walk faster! How does he even put up with you? And what was he doing so close to Yunmeng?”

Little Apple aimed its mouth for the apple and missed.

“I had plans today, you know? I have responsibilities, unlike that idiot who gets to galavant wherever he wants. I bet he was all like”—Jiang Cheng raised his voice in a mock imitation of Wei Wuxian’s voice, which, in hindsight, did not make sense because his current voice was Wei Wuxian’s voice—“‘Lan Zhan! Guess what? I invented a talisman for soul swapping! Isn’t that so cool?’”

He shook his head, then continued normally, “Ugh, who am I kidding. He’s not that stupid. Unless… he tried to soul swap with Lan Wangji, and it somehow backfired—” He gagged. “Nope. Gross. No way. Not thinking about that. Where is Lan Wangji, anyway…? Whatever. Who knows? It could be worse than that, because it could always be worse. What if it was a curse that somehow entered our minds? Could it be a curse? That dream last night…”

He sighed loudly. “Well, I guess none of it really matters in the end, because here I am, stuck in Wei Wuxian’s body, talking to a literal fucking donkey.”

Suddenly, Little Apple snagged the apple with its teeth.

Jiang Cheng froze. He tugged on the stick, hoping the apple would slip out of the donkey’s mouth; but then the string broke, and Little Apple came to a halt in the middle of the road as it chomped down on the fruit.

Jiang Cheng tightened his grip on the stick until it threatened to break. Then he held both ends of the stick, and really did break it into two even halves.

“Fuck”—he tossed one end of the stick into the bushes—“you!”—and tossed the other end right afterwards.

Onlookers passed him on the road with wary looks on their faces.

“That’s it,” Jiang Cheng seethed, pointing down at Little Apple. “I don’t care what Wei Wuxian thinks, I am going to sell you off to the first person I see willing to buy you for whatever price I can get, and I am replacing you with an actual horse.”

Little Apple snorted.

Jiang Cheng groaned and gripped his hair. Then he remembered he was technically gripping Wei Wuxian’s hair, and wondered if he should just pull it out entirely.

Maybe, he thought, he should run all the way back to Lotus Pier. But that was impossible. The town he had woken up in was at least a hundred li away, and he had traveled only ten so far.

Why did Wei Wuxian have to make his life so difficult?

Jiang Cheng stared at the sky, as if the answers were hidden in the clouds. But there were no clouds, nor answers, and it was getting very hot. He uncapped the water jug tied to Little Apple, took a nice, long swig, and watched a cultivator clad in purple flying on a sword barrel into a flock of birds.

Jiang Cheng choked on his water.

Wei Wuxian—who now had Jiang Cheng’s own body—landed on the ground using Jiang Cheng’s own sword, and brushed bird feathers out of Jiang Cheng’s own hair, and approached him with a grin that was so Wei Wuxian it looked unnatural on Jiang Cheng’s own face.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian said, in Jiang Cheng’s own voice.

“Wei…”

Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks, and his smile faltered.

Belatedly, Jiang Cheng realized he was scowling. There was nothing he could do but scowl.

“Before you say anything,” Wei Wuxian began, with his hands raised, “I need you to know that—why are your robes wet?”

Jiang Cheng glanced down at the spilled water on his front, and murmured, “Technically, they’re your robes.”

“Umm, sure, but anyways, that’s not important. What I was going to say is, I need you to know that I had nothing to do with this.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him blankly.

“And I know you’re probably really upset,” Wei Wuxian continued, “especially by something like this, but I promise I will help fix it, and then everything will go back to normal. You’ll get your body back, and I’ll have mine back. And then we can forget this ever happened at all.”

Silence. Then Jiang Cheng dismounted Little Apple, walked up to Wei Wuxian so they were face-to-face, took a deep breath, and said, “You… are so lucky I can’t throttle you because you’re in my body.”

“…”

“Do you have any idea how bad this is? That we’ve fallen under some—some curse?”

“We can’t be certain it’s a curse,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Then what is it?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“I don’t know.” Wei Wuxian paused. “Yeah, it’s probably a curse.”

“A curse you’re unfamiliar with.”

“More or less.”

“You… I can’t believe you…”

“Jiang Cheng, I already told you I didn’t—”

“What, you didn’t do it? Convince me. When has it ever not been your fault?”

Wei Wuxian went quiet. The longer he went quiet, the more Jiang Cheng wished he could take it back.

Eventually, Wei Wuxian gave a resigned sigh, as if he had expected this. “We should go.”

“Go where?” Jiang Cheng asked dumbly.

“To Lotus Pier. On your sword. We can’t leave your ducklings all alone, can we?”

Jiang Cheng glanced at Sandu in Wei Wuxian’s hand. He had known he was missing a core ever since he woke up in Wei Wuxian’s body, but to know that core was, in a twisted way, returned to its rightful owner…

“Right,” Jiang Cheng said. “What about—what about the donkey?”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian approached Little Apple and tugged on its reins. When it didn’t move, he drew an array around it, and a protective barrier formed. “That should do the trick.”

“It’s blocking the middle of the road,” Jiang Cheng protested.

“People can walk around it,” Wei Wuxian dismissed with a wave of his hand. “And we can always send someone to come fetch it later.”

“Or we could just leave it and never deal with it again.”

Wei Wuxian gasped. “You can’t say that about my Little Apple! At least not when you have my body and voice. It’s too unnatural.”

“Not any more unnatural than me seeing you with my body and voice,” Jiang Cheng murmured.

“Whatever. We can argue about this later.” Wei Wuxian unsheathed Sandu, mounted it, and offered his hand to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng hesitated.

“I’m not going to drop you,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Okay? It would be hard for you to do that if I’m behind you.”

“I just don’t want you to feel scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Alright.”

Jiang Cheng did not take Wei Wuxian’s hand. He mounted the sword and held onto the other’s shoulders from behind, and told himself he was absolutely not scared.

“You might want to hold on tighter than that,” Wei Wuxian said, right before they launched into the air.

The only reason why they didn’t immediately fall and crash was because Jiang Cheng had enough sense to not flail his limbs, and instead wrapped his arms around Wei Wuxian’s midsection, and did not look down at the ground.

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. He remembered the moments before his first core melted, and the waking moments afterwards, but not much during. It may have been the shock that had caused those memories to blur, but he had clearly understood what had happened. His core had been reduced to nothing. Jiang Cheng amounted to nothing.

For the second time, he did not have a golden core.

He was not scared.

“How long did it take you to find me?” Jiang Cheng asked. Anything to distract him from his thoughts.

“Not too long,” Wei Wuxian yelled over the sound of the wind whipping past them. “If I had to guess, I’d say no more than one incense time.”

They flew between the forested mountains, but never high enough to fly above them. Jiang Cheng was still refusing to look down, though he knew there was a small stream below that led to the main river. He tightened his hold on Wei Wuxian and looked straight ahead.

“We need to figure out how we’re going to explain why you’re bringing me to Lotus Pier.”

“Huh?” Wei Wuxian said. “Oh, you mean why I—er, my body, I guess—why we’re bringing my body to Lotus Pier?”

“You say ‘body’ as if you’re referring to your corpse,” Jiang Cheng murmured. “Found floating down the river.”

“How else do you want me to say it?” Wei Wuxian asked sarcastically. “Form? Appearance?”

“On second thought… we’re not explaining this to anyone.”

“You mean you want to keep this a secret?”

“Yes. If anyone asks, which they will, we can say your—your person, or whatever—is here for a reason that’s confidential, and that we have things to discuss that don’t concern them. Which isn’t entirely untrue.”

“But will your disciples believe it?”

“They don’t have to believe it. If I say so, they’ll listen to me.”

“Technically,” Wei Wuxian said, and Jiang Cheng could hear his smile, “now they’re going to listen to me.”

“Will you take this seriously? This is probably still a curse we’re dealing with.”

“But it is kind of funny.”

“Only to you,” Jiang Cheng muttered. “Well, whatever it is, we need to fix it quickly.”

“Right. Then we’ll divide our attention between running Lotus Pier and solving the curse.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

“What?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“You. Running Lotus Pier.”

“With you, of course. We’re the Twin Prides of Yunmeng.”

You are not of Yunmeng Jiang anymore, Jiang Cheng thought, but he did not say it. It felt wrong.

“You don’t know how to run a sect,” he said instead.

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to keep this soul swapping a secret. So, if I have your body, we need to act natural so we don’t look suspicious. Or, better yet, let’s just tell your disciples what happened so we don’t have to worry about—”

“No.”

“Why not?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“B-Because…”

“Because it’s embarrassing?”

“So what if it is?!”

Wei Wuxian laughed. “Alright, we won’t tell anyone.”

There was a lull in the conversation. Jiang Cheng could see the main river up ahead, which would guide them all the way back to Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian flew them directly above it. Occasionally, Jiang Cheng glanced down as they passed over boats on the water, but he never did so for long.

“By the way, what were you doing so close to Yunmeng? I thought you were staying in Gusu.”

“I was, but you know Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian replied. “He likes to go where there’s trouble, so I went with him. It’s been a lot of fun traveling together. We get to help out the common folk where we can, do some sightseeing along the way, all that stuff. We arrived in the Hubei region a few days ago, but Lan Zhan had to return to Gusu for sect matters.”

“And you stayed behind?”

“Wasn’t done sightseeing.”

“I’m amazed you two are able to stay apart for more than a day,” Jiang Cheng muttered dryly.

“I am, too, to be honest.” Wei Wuxian paused. “Speaking of which… should we tell Lan—”

“No.”

Wei Wuxian sighed. “Unfortunately, I agree.”

“He hates me,” Jiang Cheng added.

“Hey, it’s not that Lan Zhan hates—”

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. And can you stop calling him that?”

“Lan Zhan? I call him that all the time.”

“Yeah, but not with my voice and face, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

Jiang Cheng restrained himself from facepalming, lest he let go and fall hundreds of meters from the air. He had been initially perturbed by the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, but had learned to accept that it was the least of his problems. Now, the thought of Lan Wangji seeing them like this made him want to jump in the river and never swim back out.

“Just… I don’t know,” Jiang Cheng said. “Call him Hanguang-jun, or Lan Wangji, or in literally any other normal way, or I will qi deviate.”

“Okay, okay! I get it. Anyways, you’re right. I don’t want to bother him so soon while he’s busy, since he’d… probably freak out. If we ever really need his help, we’ll send a message to him then.”

“Fine.”

They flew the rest of the way to Lotus Pier in silence.

Chapter Text

By the time Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng touched down in the central courtyard of Lotus Pier, there were around a dozen disciples staring in their direction, all with absolutely bewildered expressions.

One of the disciples seemed to recover faster than the rest, and greeted them with a smile. “Welcome back, Jiang-zongzhu! We heard you would be gone for a few hours.”

Wei Wuxian realized the disciple was talking to him. He had never dreamed of the Jiang disciples greeting him as their Sect Leader, especially without bowing. He hoped he wasn’t too acquainted with the many customs of the Lan Clan.

“Ah, right. I did say that, didn’t I?” he mumbled, then continued in a louder voice, “Well, I’m back early, and I need you to listen closely. There’s a donkey in a protective array about ninety li East from here. You can’t miss it. I’ll give you enough money to send it back to the closest, most competent stable you can find. By the time you find the donkey, it might still be in the array, so just wait a while for it to disable on its own.”

“Right… now?” the disciple asked.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“No, of course not.”

Wei Wuxian reached into the coin pouch that belonged to Jiang Cheng, and gave the disciple a considerate amount of bronze and silver.

“Don’t take too long,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Yes, of course. But… May I ask what is going on, exactly?”

“That is none of your business. Anyone who has any questions will not have them answered. Wei Wuxian and I have private matters to discuss.”

The disciple nodded, and took off on his sword. The remaining disciples in the courtyard glanced over at Jiang Cheng, who appeared to be Wei Wuxian. None of them said a word.

Afterwards, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng headed straight to the Sect Leader’s quarters. On the way, Wei Wuxian ordered a servant to bring them food. Once they were seated and the servants had left, Wei Wuxian flung a Noise-Canceling Talisman on the door, just to be safe.

“You better not be getting comfortable throwing around orders wherever you go,” Jiang Cheng muttered.

“I promise you I am the least comfortable I’ve been in a while.” Wei Wuxian picked up his chopsticks. “Also, I haven’t eaten anything today yet.”

“The day just started.”

Both of their stomachs growled at the same time.

“Guess I’m not the only one who’s hungry,” Wei Wuxian teased.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng snapped, before shoveling a cube of tofu in his mouth.

“I was thinking,” Wei Wuxian said, because it was impossible for him to shut up, “I should probably know what your plans are for today, so we can work around them and do more research on this whole soul swapping thing.”

Jiang Cheng paused as he chewed. “Most of my meetings were dealt with last week. I’m supposed to go into town in a couple of days to meet with some merchants to discuss trade. Today and tomorrow mostly consists of disciple training, and I need to respond to some letters I’ve been putting off, though a lot of it is probably just junk, and after that—”

“How about,” Wei Wuxian interrupted, “we cancel training for the day.”

Jiang Cheng’s food dropped from his chopsticks. “Cancel?”

Wei Wuxian waved his hand vaguely. “Yeah, like, give them a break. Make them go out for a swim, or something. It’ll distract them enough so they won’t ask so many questions about all”—he gestured to the air between them—“this.”

“Won’t they ask questions about why they’re getting a break?”

“Did you ever ask questions whenever we got a break?”

“...You have a point.”

Wei Wuxian took a sip of his tea. “A little fun won’t hurt them. And I can still go to those meetings you mentioned.”

“We’ll both go,” Jiang Cheng said. “I don’t trust you to handle it on your own.”

“Hey, I’m great at haggling! I lived on it while I was at the Burial Mounds.”

“This is not about haggling, and this is not the Burial Mounds. This is about strengthening ties with the merchants and ensuring Lotus Pier’s trade supplies are secure.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged and picked at his food. “Whatever you say. Also, since we’re giving the disciples a well-deserved break, I’d like to do some research in the archives for the rest of the day.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “We’ll both do that, too.”

* * *

Four junior disciples were gathered in Lotus Pier’s training grounds, which were otherwise empty after the upper disciples had come running to tell the juniors the news.

Even after his shixiongs and shijies had left, Lu Huiying couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. “Canceled?”

“Seems like it,” Han Mei said, who was sitting next to Huiying.

“But why would training be canceled?”

“Why are you asking questions? Let’s go swimming with the others and catch some fish already!” Wu Yuze was standing behind Han Mei; though to Huiying, it looked like his standing was about to become jumping.

“But it’s weird, right?” Huiying pressed. “Wei-qianbei suddenly shows up, even though the last time he was here, Jiang-zongzhu made it very clear he did not want him to show up again, and then training gets canceled?”

“It is weird,” Xiuying agreed, who was sitting next to Han Mei. “Maybe their fight last time wasn’t actually that serious?”

“Oh no, it was definitely serious,” Han Mei said. “When I was hiding behind that corner, I thought I was going to get my head chopped off by that fancy sword.”

“You shouldn’t have followed them in the first place! And you mean Bichen,” Xiuying scolded.

Han Mei rolled her eyes. “I told you I didn’t stick around for the actual serious part. Though sometimes I wish I should have,” she grumbled. “There was some good tea brewing, and I didn't wait for it to spill.”

Huiying snapped his fingers. “Exactly my point. If Jiang-zongzhu hates his brother so much, why would he let him in here? There’s probably some top-secret emergency mission they’re keeping hidden from us.”

“Or politics,” Han Mei said. “I’m not interested if it’s politics.”

Wu Yuze crossed his arms. “You’re reading too many books again, Huiying.”

Huiying glared up at him. “Hey, some of the books I read are based on real life, you know.”

“You’re literally reading a book that has gods turning into swords. Gods don’t turn into swords.”

“Who ever said they don’t turn into swords?”

“I’m saying it right now.”

Xiuying sighed. “It doesn’t matter. If Jiang-zongzhu told us to not ask questions, then it’s not our place to know. Let’s all head down to the river.”

“Thank you,” Wu Yuze said.

Huiying bit back a retort, because the river didn’t sound like a bad idea. Wu Yuze waited for the rest of them to stand up. Afterwards, the four junior disciples left the training grounds to walk towards the water.

“I will say though, all those other disciples from the other sects seem to really like Wei-qianbei.” Han Mei said. “I wonder what it’s like to go on a Night Hunt with him. Bet it’s a lot of fun.”

The others hummed and nodded in agreement.

“That, and he’s really hot,” Han Mei added.

“Han Mei,” Xiuying said flatly.

“I’m kidding!” Han Mei paused. “Well, not really. He’s hot, but we all know his ass is for Hanguang-jun’s eyes only.”

“Han Mei!”

Wu Yuze laughed into his fist.

“Kill me now,” Huiying muttered.

* * *

Jiang Cheng hated research. It wasn’t that the archives of Lotus Pier were disorganized, but the process of reading book after book, scroll after scroll, for hours in the same room made him want to do something especially drastic, like break the table he was sitting at.

Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, looked like he was in his element—which was disturbing to Jiang Cheng, because that was his body lounging on a plush cushion, snacking on spicy rice crackers, and reading a book titled Spiritual Devices In Relation To The Soul as if it were a bedtime story.

“This is not good,” Wei Wuxian murmured.

“No shit,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s been over four hours already, and what do we have to show for our godforsaken research?”

“No, not that. Your taste buds!”

“My what?”

Wei Wuxian waved a vibrant red rice cracker in his hand, and sucked in some air through his mouth. “Even though I’m still myself, your bodily taste buds are the same, too. This is usually nothing to me!”

“Where did you even get those? I don’t remember seeing them in the kitchens.”

“Oh, I bought them from some merchants at the docks.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes lit up. “And guess what? They were from Yiling, because I saw they had the native chili peppers I love so much. Then I decided to buy a bag of these spicy rice crackers, but I didn’t realize that even the medium level of spiciness would taste this hot.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes twitched. “So when you said earlier you needed to get some air, you actually went to spend my money on snacks?”

“I did get some air! I went for a walk at the docks!”

“That was still my money you spent. And my money that you gave to Fu Chen.”

“For finding Little Apple? I’m sure he’ll give the rest back to you—er, me. Seems like a good kid.” Wei Wuxian took another bite of his cracker despite his earlier complaints.

“Of course he’ll give the rest back to you. But you do know that the amount you gave him was too much, right?”

“Was it?” Wei Wuxian sucked in some more air. “Well, better more than less. I’m not used to what the usual prices are these days. Inflation, and all that, you know. While I was dead.”

“You sure it’s not just because Lan Wangji pays everything for you?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Wei Wuxian froze, then cleared his throat. “It… could be that, too.”

“You know what? Nevermind. Don’t want to hear about it. Especially while you look like me.”

“You asked first!”

“Which was my mistake.”

“As long as you admit it.” Wei Wuxian popped another rice cracker in his mouth. “Speaking of the docks—I gotta say, it’s looking pretty lively there again.”

Jiang Cheng paused. “It’s nowhere near as lively as before.”

“Of course it’s not. But it’s definitely more lively than it was a year ago. You’ve done a great job shaping things up.”

“It wasn’t all me.”

“Most of it was you, even if you don’t want to admit it. You’re the Sect Leader.”

Jiang Cheng rested his chin in one hand and pretended he was too busy reading to listen.

When Wei Wuxian spoke again, Jiang Cheng could tell it was to himself. “Out of all the spiritual devices listed in here, only a few of them are for actual soul swapping, and they all seem relatively harmless… ‘Both users must be within range of the device, one of the users must have the minimum amount of spiritual energy…’ Jiang Cheng, did you find anything yet?”

Jiang Cheng sighed, and kept his eyes on his scroll. “Not sure.”

“What are you reading?”

“It’s an essay about ghosts.”

“Oh?”

“There’s several essays, actually,” Jiang Cheng said. “About how some ghosts, if they’re powerful enough, have taken on the appearances of other people, living or dead. Mimicry, if you will. About ghosts that have been able to visit the dreams of their loved ones. About a few, rare accounts of ghosts that have been defeated more effectively by their original cause of death, rather than talismans.”

Wei Wuxian scratched his chin. “I do remember coming across some texts about specialized evil spirits in the Burial Mounds.”

“I’ve also been having dreams lately.”

Wei Wuxian paused. “About?”

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. Lotus Pier’s massacre. Nightless City. The ancestral hall. Other places he couldn’t remember, but should.

“You were there in all of them, but it wasn’t you,” he said instead. “It was a ghost, I think, trying to mimic you. Its eyes were either black, or I couldn’t see them.”

Wei Wuxian was silent for a long time. Then, he said, “My dreams have been the same.”

Jiang Cheng looked up at him. “How? Did a ghost visit you, too?”

“Maybe. Whatever it was, it looked like you.”

“Could they be related somehow? The ghost and the soul swapping?”

“It’s a possibility, though we can’t be certain it was a ghost. It could have been anything that cursed us, as long as it had enough power,” Wei Wuxian said.

Jiang Cheng glanced down at the scroll he was reading. His head was starting to hurt.

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” he grumbled.

“How about I call someone to bring some more food for us?” Wei Wuxian suggested. “We’ll function better on fuller stomachs.”

“Anything but your spicy rice crackers.”

Jiang Cheng planned to take a proper break once the food arrived, but he and Wei Wuxian instead found themselves multitasking for the next shichen, books in one hand and chopsticks in the other. By sunset, Jiang Cheng had really given up, and declared he was going to retire for the night.

“Tell one of the servants to fix one of the guest rooms if they haven’t done so already,” he told Wei Wuxian.

“Alright. Just tell me if there’s anything you need.”

By the time Jiang Cheng arrived at his temporary room, everything was prepared exactly as he had requested. The bedsheets were neatly made, a set of sleeping robes were neatly folded, and a hot bath was waiting behind the changing screen.

He first set aside Chenqing and Wei Wuxian’s Qiankun pouch on the low table, both of which he had been carrying around all this time, and had subsequently forgotten about. Then, out of curiosity, and because they were brothers, he opened the Qiankun pouch and went through Wei Wuxian’s things.

There were a few bronze pieces, and two silver. A pork bun, already stale. An intricate compass, probably used for tracking resentment. Other devices used in demonic cultivation. Blank talismans. Ink brush. Small knife. A wooden comb, modest yet well-crafted, with the design of a lotus carved into the handle.

He inspected the comb once more, then put everything back into the pouch.

When he stepped behind the changing screen, he grumbled to himself, “I better not find anything weird on Wei Wuxian’s body, or I will never look at him or Lan Wangji ever again—” and froze when he saw the curse mark on his chest.

Jiang Cheng ran from the guest room to the Sect Leader’s quarters—where Wei Wuxian was now sleeping that night—and showed him the mark.

“It says three,” was the first thing Wei Wuxian said when he saw the mark.

“I know it says three. What I wanted to know is if you have a similar mark on your chest.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened, and he quickly loosened the front of his robes to reveal the same three, horizontal lines across the top of his sternum, as if painted in ink.

“Well, what do you know? How come we didn’t think to look for any curse marks earlier?” he mumbled.

“Doesn’t matter.” Jiang Cheng tucked his robes back in place. “We need to figure out what it means first.”

“It could mean that there’s three days left of the curse, but only if we’re lucky.”

“Could it be that a ghost is fucking with us?”

“Were there any essays you found of soul-swapping ghosts?”

“No, but that’s probably what it is, right?”

“Possibly.”

“So what do we do now?”

Wei Wuxian yawned. “Get some sleep. I’ve had enough productivity for one day. We’ll talk about it more in the morning.”

Jiang Cheng hesitated. Ultimately, he was exhausted as well. He returned to the guest room, took his hot bath that was already half on its way to becoming a cold bath, changed into his sleeping robes, blew out his lamp, laid down in bed, and closed his eyes.

That night, Jiang Cheng dreamed again.

He was lying on a hill of grass. The sky was bleak and dim, though he could not tell whether it was day or night. There was fog, not dense enough to severely limit his vision. When he sat up, he saw someone else lying in the grass close by.

The person sat up, and turned in his direction. He looked exactly like—

“Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asked, and realized he had his own voice back.

“Woah.” Wei Wuxian looked down at himself. “I guess we have our own bodies only when we’re dreaming, huh?”

“Okay.” Jiang Cheng abruptly stood up. “What the hell is happening?”

“Not sure… but if I had to guess, I think we’re dreaming about our memories.”

Jiang Cheng asked, warily, “Which memory is this?”

Wei Wuxian did not look at him.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, and that’s when he recognized the terrain—the tall, green grass—the wildflowers—the dirt path—it could have been any insignificant mountain, and it was, and it wasn’t.

“Baoshan-sanren,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wei Wuxian nodded.

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to say more when a wave of resentment washed over him, powerful and sudden, like ice cold water, and unlike anything he had ever felt before. He knew Wei Wuxian had felt it, too, judging by the way his frozen, terrified expression was likely mirroring his own.

Instinctively, he called forth his spiritual energy—called forth Zidian—and made a discrete hand gesture to tell Jin Ling to stand behind him, that if anything happened to him, flee to somewhere far away where you will be safe, and quickly return with reinforcements, because if you don’t, and if I die here, I will be very upset with you if my sacrifice was for nothing but a disobedient brat.

But he could not feel his spiritual energy, nor Zidian on his finger, nor did he have his nephew to protect.

It was just him and Wei Wuxian, and they were both unarmed.

Slowly, he turned around, and thought of how horrible of an idea it was to turn around and face the enemy unarmed; and he saw a young woman walking towards them, as slowly and stiffly as a corpse might walk, with unblinking, ink-black eyes, dressed in blood-red robes trimmed with fire.

Next to him, Wei Wuxian stood up.

“Jiang Cheng—”

Needles appeared in the woman’s hands.

“Run!”

They bolted down the mountain path. A needle whizzed by Jiang Cheng’s neck. He kept running. He did not look back. He knew what it felt like to run in dreams, that it was supposed to feel like wading in a wall of strew—but this was so far from what dreams were supposed to feel like. Everything was too real.

“Woods!” he yelled. Another row of needles flew over their heads.

“Right behind you!” Wei Wuxian yelled back.

The edge of the forest began on the side of the mountain. They veered off the path, ran through the grass, and continued through the trees even as the light gradually faded. The fog became thicker.

Minutes passed before they stopped running. Wei Wuxian leaned against a tree, panting for breath. Jiang Cheng stumbled a little, feeling lightheaded, before he finally risked a glance behind them.

“Is she gone?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Probably.” Wei Wuxian gasped for air. “Not.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. “You—Your arm.”

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian glanced down at the needle protruding from his left forearm, and pulled it out with his right hand. “That’s why I couldn’t feel it.”

In the next instant, Jiang Cheng was inspecting Wei Wuxian’s arm, aware that for every second they spent here, they gave the enemy time to catch up.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“I just told you I couldn’t feel it,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “I can’t move it, either, but I don’t think it was a lethal poison, if that’s what you’re worried about. She never carried much of those around with her, anyway.”

Jiang Cheng frowned. “Who?”

Unexpectedly, Wei Wuxian scoffed. “Already forgotten, have you?”

“The hell? Stop acting so ungrateful all of a sudden. We were just running for our lives a minute ago, so forgive me if I didn’t recognize the creepy murderer shooting needles at us.”

Needles.

Perhaps he did recognize…

He shook his head. “Nevermind. Whoever… or whatever that is, it’s trying to kill us in our sleep, and it’s treating it like a game. If we lose, we are not waking up.”

Wei Wuxian looked away. “I know. I know, I… we should come up with a plan to kill it. If that’s even possible.”

“Of course it’s possible. We just haven’t come up with a plan yet.”

“We don’t have our weapons. Even though it looks like we have our own bodies in this—dreamscape, neither of us have spiritual energy, even if one of us has a core in the real world. It’s blocked off either way.”

“How did you know I couldn’t feel any spiritual energy?”

“You panicked.” Wei Wuxian gestured vaguely with his good arm. “When. Earlier.”

Jiang Cheng clenched his fists by his sides, and hated himself for feeling them tremble. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Told himself to not panic. Looked at Wei Wuxian.

“Listen. Being the pessimist is supposed to be my job. You’re the one who comes up with all the plans, so think of a plan. Because if you don’t come up with a plan, I’ll just break your other arm.”

Out of all the things he could do, Wei Wuxian smiled. “Very motivational speech, Jiang Cheng.”

“Will you just hurry—”

“I’m thinking of a plan! I’m thinking.”

Out of habit, Jiang Cheng rubbed his finger that typically wore Zidian, though there was no ring. He followed Wei Wuxian’s gaze at their surroundings, but all he could see were trees, fog, and a riverbed.

“Jiang Cheng. Remember those essays you were reading earlier? About how some ghosts could be killed in the same way they originally died?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know what we need to do.”

Jiang Cheng soon discovered that it was very hard to start a fire the old-fashioned way. He had found some flint and a sharp rock by the riverbed, and began striking the two objects together over a pile of drywood and dead leaves he had gathered. Two minutes later, he had still yet to create a single spark.

“Is it here?” he whispered.

“Not yet,” Wei Wuxian whispered back. He was peering around the side of a tree.

“Earlier, you kept shutting down the idea of a ghost haunting us. What makes you think it’s a ghost now?”

“This is just a hunch, but based on the essays you found, and on the convenient supply of resources here to make a fire, it could be that the ghost—well, it’s hard to tell what exactly we’re dealing with, though we can call it a ghost for now to make things easy for us—it could be that it is indeed letting us participate in its game.”

“How do you know it was killed by fire?”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, but did not look at Jiang Cheng. “Not the ghost. It’s who the ghost is mimicking.”

“And how do you know it’s not… not her? That it’s just mimicry?”

“Her ashes were destroyed long before she had the chance to become a ghost. If this really is a ghost, it can’t be her.”

Jiang Cheng thought of needles—of a face he couldn’t quite remember—of fire consuming its prey—and suddenly felt he was going to be sick.

He struck the flint hard over the dry wood, and a small flame appeared.

“Finally!”

“Perfect timing, because our ghost is looking pretty angry right now,” Wei Wuxian said.

Jiang Cheng glanced up. “You see it?”

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian faced Jiang Cheng. “I’m gonna distract it for a bit. You stay here and make the fire bigger. If you can make a torch while you’re at it, that’d be even better.”

“How do you think you’re going to distract it? You only have one working arm!”

“Still have two working legs!” And Wei Wuxian ran off into the woods.

The sounds of needles ripped through the air.

“Shit, fuck, shit.” Jiang Cheng cupped his hands around the embers and gently blew on them. The fire gradually grew bigger. “How the hell does he expect me to make a torch?”

As he heard Wei Wuxian leading the ghost away, Jiang Cheng added more wood to the fire, and searched for a stick he could use as a torch. He had never needed to make fire or torches since there were talismans for that, but he remembered the times he and Wei Wuxian used to play with the local children outside of Lotus Pier, and that they would try to make fires with what nature already provided.

Finally, he found a stick about the length of his forearm that forked off into two smaller branches. He pulled out some dry grass from the dirt, wrapped it around the two appendages of the stick, and tied it off at the end. Then he picked up the sharp stone he had used earlier to make the fire, and struck it against a tree, feeling the sticky sap collect on his fingers, and smeared the sap on the grass of his makeshift torch.

“This better work,” he whispered to himself.

“Jiang Cheng, behind you!”

He ducked. Where his head would have been, needles struck the tree behind him.

“I thought you were distracting it!” Jiang Cheng yelled, running towards the steadily growing fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wei Wuxian tackle the ghost from behind and pin it on the ground.

“I was, but you were doing such a great job at making our fire very noticeable. Did you already—”

“Yes.” Jiang Cheng lit the torch above the fire, then made his way towards where Wei Wuxian had pinned the ghost beneath him on its stomach.

He stopped when he saw the ghost’s face.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian had restrained both of its wrists behind its back with only his good hand, and had trapped its legs with his own. “I can’t do this all day, you know!”

He hadn’t seen her face in years. Now, he remembered.

“It’s not her!” Wei Wuxian shouted. “You have to kill it!”

Even now, her face was indistinct, shrouded in dark shadow, but it was unmistakably her. Jiang Cheng thought he saw her brows pinch together in pain, saw her lips tremble, and almost wanted to take her hand and help her up.

Then she let out a terrible, ear-piercing scream.

Jiang Cheng remembered where he was, and drove the torch against the ghost’s face.

The rest of its body was quickly set aflame. Wei Wuxian had to let go. When the ghost tried to stand up, Jiang Cheng pushed it into the fire he had created earlier. It writhed, and screamed, and laughed a horrible, monstrous laugh that made Jiang Cheng want to cover his ears.

As the ghost burned, Jiang Cheng remembered the comb he had found in the Qiankun pouch.

It was the last thing he thought of before he woke up.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian was still stuck with Jiang Cheng’s body the next morning. His left arm felt numb, as if the blood flow had been cut off. His skin showed no signs of the place where the needle had stabbed him.

He was still in bed when the sliding door slammed open. Jiang Cheng was standing in the frame in full Wei Wuxian fashion, with messy, unkempt morning hair, red ribbon askew, still dressed in sleeping garments, looking like he had just ran all the way from the guest room.

Neither of them spoke for a long while as they stared at each other. Then finally, Wei Wuxian said, “I need to go for a swim.”

They headed to a secluded dock on the farthest side of Lotus Pier where they used to play together as kids. Jiang Cheng brought a basket of fresh lotus pods with them, though Wei Wuxian could not recall from where. When they arrived, Jiang Cheng kicked his boots off, sat down on the end of the dock to dip his feet in the water, and began to peel the lotus seeds.

By then, Wei Wuxian could feel his arm again. He stripped off everything but his pants, and jumped into the lake so his head was fully submerged.

It was quiet underwater. In Wei Wuxian’s opinion, it was the closest feeling to death, because sleep these days was anything but restful.

After a long moment, he broke the surface for air. Jiang Cheng was still sitting on the dock.

“You’re not jumping in?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“No,” Jiang Cheng said.

“It’s to clear your head, not for fun.”

“You don’t think I already know that?”

Wei Wuxian hesitated, then swam to the side of the dock where the water was waist-deep. He hoisted himself onto the dock with his arms and elbows, and stood up. Squeezed the water out of his hair. Tied it into a ponytail with Jiang Cheng’s purple ribbon.

“Scoot over,” he said.

Jiang Cheng paused, then shifted himself and the basket to the left so Wei Wuxian could sit on the right end of the dock, the basket in between them.

“Why did you do that?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Do what?”

“You tied your hair like… Whatever. Looks weird without a bun.”

“Well, I have your body now, so I’m going to tie your hair however I want.”

Jiang Cheng huffed, then went back to peeling his lotus seeds.

“Why’d you bring so many?” Wei Wuxian asked. “You’re going to eat all that?”

“It’s for clearing my head.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for another two whole minutes. Wei Wuxian thought of how tragic it was to watch his own body sulk and peel lotus seeds while staring blankly at the water, as if it were a severe punishment. Still, he reached into the basket to pick out his own lotus pod, and began peeling the seeds alongside Jiang Cheng. They ate the seeds as they went and tossed the broken pods back into the basket.

“We didn’t really kill it, did we?” Jiang Cheng asked suddenly.

Wei Wuxian’s hand lifted towards his own curse mark. One of the lines had faded entirely, leaving two lines behind. “No. I don’t think we did.” He didn’t have to ask to know if Jiang Cheng’s mark was the same.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Wei Wuxian continued, “I should probably let you know that I couldn’t feel my arm this morning.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. “What, now? Still?”

“No, not right now. It’s already back to normal.” To demonstrate, Wei Wuxian spun his left arm in a circle and nearly knocked over the basket.

“So if the ghost kills us in the dreamscape, we’ll die in real life.”

“I guess? But it wasn’t that hard to defeat it the first time. Even you did most of the work.”

“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng muttered.

“It’ll be over soon, in any case,” Wei Wuxian said, admiring the lake. “If we were able to defeat it once, what’s two more times?”

The conversation stilled. Wei Wuxian glanced over at Jiang Cheng, and noticed he had stopped peeling his lotus seeds and was glaring at the water. It was an expression Wei Wuxian had seen thousands of times before, but it was the type of glare he couldn’t quite figure out. It might have been because the glare was on his own face, and he had the strange thought that it resembled his early days as the infamous Yiling Patriarch.

“Jiang Cheng.”

No response.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“Drown me in the river on the day something is not bothering me.”

“You want to tell me what it is?” Wei Wuxian pressed.

He expected another retort from Jiang Cheng, such as, Who ever said I wanted to tell you anything? But then Jiang Cheng murmured something so quietly that Wei Wuxian didn’t catch it the first time.

“What?” Wei Wuxian asked, leaning in closer.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Jiang Cheng repeated.

“Huh?”

“I said I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No, I heard what you said. But I don’t understand—”

“Do you honestly think,” Jiang Cheng interrupted, “that she would ever choose to abandon her clan?”

“Who?”

“Wen-guniang.”

Wei Wuxian paused. “Wen Qing?”

Jiang Cheng nodded stiffly.

At first, Wei Wuxian thought of the ghost, how it burned and laughed in the fire. Then he forced himself to think of the real Wen Qing, who offered a place to stay after Lotus Pier’s massacre, who held the hand of her brother’s corpse, who scolded Wei Wuxian for letting A-Yuan scrape his knees in the Burial Mounds.

“I don’t think she would,” he said.

Jiang Cheng let out a bitter laugh. “Of course.”

Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. “Jiang Cheng… Did you ask Wen Qing to leave her clan?”

Suddenly, they heard several footsteps quickly approaching the dock.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng stared at each other. Then Wei Wuxian stood up, grabbed the robes he had stripped off earlier, and hastily put them on to hide the curse mark, cringing as he felt the cloth stick to his wet skin.

Four junior disciples emerged from behind the trees just then, and they stopped short when they saw the dock already occupied.

“Jiang-zongzhu! Did you come here to swim, too?”

Wei Wuxian turned around. There were two girls and two boys, all of them no older than the age of sixteen. The boy who had spoken had his hair in a simple bun, and Wei Wuxian wondered if he had seen him before. He did not, however, recognize the girl who stood next to the boy. Her face was more rounded, and her hair had short bangs, and was tied in a ponytail that reached her shoulders.

The two disciples in the back, however, were the same ones he had accidentally ran into yesterday morning. He also noticed they shared similar features: straight long hair tied with ribbons, and thin bangs that brushed past their ears. The only difference was that the girl wore subtle braids in her hair.

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian replied to answer the boy’s question.

The girl with the braids stepped up to the front. “We’re sorry we disturbed you, Jiang-zongzhu and Wei-qianbei. We weren’t sure if we were continuing training today, so we assumed it would be alright to go swimming again.”

Wei Wuxian looked at the girl disciple, then at the other three disciples, then back at the girl, and noticed all four of them looked utterly dumbfounded, likely because who they thought was their Sect Leader was soaking wet and wearing a ponytail. Though the girl was doing the best job at keeping a straight face.

“Oh. That’s fine. Ji— Wei Wuxian and I were just leaving,” Wei Wuxian said.

Behind him, he heard Jiang Cheng stand up from the dock.

“Help yourselves to the rest of the lotuses,” Jiang Cheng said. “If you want.”

The disciples exchanged silent looks with each other.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jiang Cheng whispered, before brushing past Wei Wuxian to leave.

“Training resumes in two days,” Wei Wuxian told the disciples.

He and Jiang Cheng walked back towards the main compound of Lotus Pier through the wooded pathway, leaving the four disciples behind.

Once they were out of earshot, Wei Wuxian let out a sigh of relief. That had been close. He turned to Jiang Cheng.

“About Wen Qing—”

“We’re not talking about this anymore.”

“You sure?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“I have a headache.”

Whether that was true or not, Wei Wuxian knew better than to push. “Can you at least tell me who those disciples were?”

Jiang Cheng huffed, and continued walking down the path with Wei Wuxian beside him. “Lu Xiuying was the girl you were speaking to, the one with the braids. Her twin brother is Lu Huiying—not the one with the bun. Wu Yuze has the bun. Han Mei was the other girl. They’re all close friends with each other.”

“Hmm. I ran into the Lu twins yesterday before I came to get you. That Xiuying girl reminds me a lot of A-Yuan.”

“A-Yuan?”

“I mean—Lan Sizhui. His birth name is Yuan.”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. “Right…”

Wei Wuxian shut his mouth. Calling Sizhui by his birth name would have seemed odd to those who didn’t know of his connection with Wei Wuxian, let alone his past.

“Anyways,” Jiang Cheng continued. “The four of them are usually seen together a lot. Han Mei began living at Lotus Pier only a few years ago. Her parents are the heads of a smaller clan allied with Yunmeng Jiang, and they wanted her to study and train at Lotus Pier to make more friends her age.”

“Do she and her parents visit each other often?” Wei Wuxain asked.

“At least once a month.”

“And she enjoys it here?”

“I would think so.”

Wei Wuxian smiled. “That’s good.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “Wu Yuze has lived here the longest. His aunt is one of the cooks. She insisted that Wu Yuze should learn cultivation, despite their family having no background in it. He has talent. Likes to run around causing trouble wherever he pleases. I was told he broke the most rules out of all the guest disciples at the Lan Clan’s lectures last season.”

“That’s where I’ve seen him before!” Wei Wuxian laughed. “I like him already.”

“Of course you would. Sometimes he reminds me—” Jiang Cheng closed his mouth.

“What? He reminds you of me?”

“...Don’t take it as a compliment.”

“You hesitated, which definitely means it was a compliment.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Whatever. I’m heading to the guest room.”

“Why?”

“To rest. The dreamscape drained my energy.”

“You know, a nap doesn’t sound too—” Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks. “Wait.”

Jiang Cheng stopped beside him. “Wait what?”

“If we take a nap and fall asleep, the ghost could come for us again.”

“So you’re saying we should avoid taking naps?”

“No, I’m saying we should take care of the problem as soon as possible!”

At first, Jiang Cheng hesitated. It was the same hesitation Wei Wuxian saw when he had the ghost pinned down, and Jiang Cheng had frozen in place.

Perhaps they were not ready to fight the ghost again so soon, Wei Wuxian thought. Even he could still hear its screams and laughter in his head, could still see its face and its void-like eyes, its robes burning to ash and dust. If Jiang Cheng said no, he would understand.

But then Jiang Cheng looked him in the eye, and said, “Then let’s go kill ourselves a fucking ghost.”

* * *

They did not, in fact, kill themselves a fucking ghost.

It had been decided they should both stay in the Sect Leader’s quarters. Wei Wuxian set up his own mat on the floor to meditate on, insisting that meditation helped him fall asleep faster. Jiang Cheng had fallen asleep not even ten minutes after he hit the bed. When he woke up three hours later, he was hungry, and groggy, and it was well past noon. He had not even dreamt of anything.

“I think that was the most anticlimactic nap I’ve ever had.” Wei Wuxian sat up on his mat, stretched, and yawned.

“Did something go wrong?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“It might not be that anything went wrong, per se,” Wei Wuxian said. “Maybe the ghost only shows up at night.”

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment. “What if we… didn’t sleep at night?”

“Why would we do that?”

“If this curse mark is time-based, and we stayed awake for the rest of its duration, then we wouldn’t have to fight the ghost at all.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“How do you know?”

“When I was first resurrected by Mo Xuanyu, I had four cuts on my arm, and they would only heal if the four people he resented the most were killed. This soul-swapping curse is probably similar to that. Defeat the ghost three times, and the curse will break. We can’t avoid it.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw clenched. Wei Wuxian had never mentioned anything about cuts on his arm. Then again, they both seemed to prefer keeping secrets to themselves these days.

“And how did you figure that out? The four cuts.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “I’m the Yiling Patriarch.”

Jiang Cheng was quiet for a long moment. Eventually, he stood up from the bed. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Oh! Should I tell the servants to bring some food here?”

“No. Just help yourself.”

Jiang Cheng left the room.

Sneaking into the kitchens was for children. Jiang Cheng was not a child, but he did not care. He was the goddamn Sect Leader, even if he currently didn’t look like it.

As he walked across the compound, he ignored the looks he got from his own disciples he happened to pass by. There weren’t many of them, likely because most of them had made day trips into town. He suspected none of them disliked Wei Wuxian, but if they wanted to have a chat, none of them had the guts to.

It was different from what he had observed before. There was Sect Leader Ouyang’s soft-hearted son who had looked out for Wei Wuxian’s well-being. There were the two Lans that always stuck together, one of whom might have been Lan Sizhui. Even Jin Ling seemed to hold some begrudging respect for Wei Wuxian, though he would never admit it.

Perhaps, Jiang Cheng thought, it was his own influence that caused his disciples to avoid Wei Wuxian. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Then his mind strayed to his conversation with Wei Wuxian at the dock. He had never meant to admit he had asked Wen Qing to leave her clan. 

He thought of the ghost’s laughter in the fire. Apparently, Wen Qing had burned to death.

Could he have prevented that if only he had tried harder? 

It was impossible. He still wondered.

Before he knew it, Jiang Cheng had approached the door to the kitchens. There were voices inside.

“Is that everything?” Lu Huiying said. 

“I think so. Where’d you put the chopsticks?” Wu Yuze asked.

“I already put them in the basket.”

“Alright, then let’s go.”

“Wait a second,” Huiying said. “Let me carry the basket.”

Wu Yuze huffed. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

“But you suck at carrying the basket.”

“There’s no liquids in it this time.”

“You still suck at it.”

“You shut your—”

Jiang Cheng chose that moment to open the doors, because if this went on for any longer, there wouldn’t be a basket to carry.

The boys immediately froze in place.

Wu Yuze’s eyes lit up. “Wei-qianbei!”

Jiang Cheng turned around, then remembered that he was currently Wei-qianbei.

He turned back to the two boys. “Um. Yes. That’s me.”

“Did you…” Wu Yuze exchanged a look with Huiying, then looked back at Jiang Cheng. “Did you need anything?”

“Actually, I do need something.” Jiang Cheng crossed his arms. “I need to know why you two are in here sneaking out food and alcohol when it’s barely mid-afternoon.”

Wu Yuze shifted in place, basket in hand. Next to him, Huiying looked down at the floor, clutching two wine jugs against his chest.

“If we put everything back right now, will you promise not to tell Jiang-zongzhu?” asked Wu Yuze.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were supposed to act like each other. What would Wei Wuxian do in this situation?

“I’m not going to tell him,” Jiang Cheng said. “You can take the food, but put the drinks back where you found them. It’s too early to be drinking.”

“Oh, the drinks were for later.”

“Wu Yuze!” Huiying hissed.

Jiang Cheng sighed. “They’re not for you later either. Now put the drinks back before I change my mind.”

Huiying gave Wu Yuze the stink-eye. Regardless, he returned the jugs to the shelf where they belonged, and moved towards the door, but Wu Yuze tugged on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving.

“Wei-qianbei, how long will you be staying here?” Wu Yuze asked.

“For the next two days, at least,” Jiang Cheng replied.

“Are you busy right now?”

“I was looking for something to eat, but other than that, no.”

Wu Yuze grinned. “Would you like to join us for lunch?”

The three of them arrived at a small clearing in the woods. It was where the disciples sometimes came to shoot kites. Lu Xiuying and Han Mei were already there, seemingly in the midst of conversation, and were seated on a blanket in the grass, a tray with a tea set between them. When they saw Jiang Cheng, their eyes lit up.

“Good afternoon, Wei-qianbei,” Xiuying said, polite as ever. “Did you want to join us for lunch?”

“...Sure,” Jiang Cheng replied. He soon found himself seated in a circle of five with his disciples, and none of them had a clue as to who he really was.

Wu Yuze opened the basket he was carrying, dished out a bowl of stir-fry noodles, and offered it to Jiang Cheng.

“We actually all ate lunch already, so you can have as much as you want,” Wu Yuze said. “Sometimes we like to do this as sort of our post-meal-appetizer.”

“Isn’t that just dessert?” Huiying asked.

“Well, sure, but this doesn’t count as dessert because it’s not sweet.”

Jiang Cheng took the bowl, and didn’t know what to say. How often did his disciples have picnics on the grass?

Meanwhile, Xiuying poured the first cup of tea, and set it back on the tray, but closest to Jiang Cheng. Then she turned to Wu Yuze. “Did you get another teacup? We only brought four.”

“Glad you asked.” Wu Yuze procured a fifth cup from the basket.

As they continued dishing out the food, Jiang Cheng noticed Han Mei was silently staring at him. It was one of her calculating, judgmental stares, and he knew almost exactly what she was going to ask.

“Who’s taller, you or Jiang-zongzhu?”

He smiled easily. “Jiang Cheng is taller,” he lied.

“Hmm… You’re about the same height though…”

“Han Mei,” Xiuying scolded, though Jiang Cheng knew she didn’t mean it.

“I was just wondering,” Han Mei muttered.

“Actually, Wei-qianbei, I have a question, if you don’t mind,” Wu Yuze said.

“Ask away,” Jiang Cheng said. “Clearly, Han Mei didn’t need permission.”

Wu Yuze glanced at his friends, then looked at Jiang Cheng, and took a deep breath. “Would you be willing to lead us on a Night Hunt sometime?”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. “A Night Hunt?”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Wu Yuze added hurriedly. “It’s just that—we heard about everything that happened after you came back from, you know, being dead, and mostly we heard it from the other disciples that ran into you during their joint Night Hunt at Yi City and the Burial Mounds. And they seem to respect you a lot, you know, after everything you did for them. Well, maybe some of them respect you more than others, but that’s okay! I think it would be fun—I mean—it would be a good learning experience if you were there to, umm, teach us—things.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind nearly blanked. “I… I will have to think about it. I’m a very busy man, you know.”

“Jiang-zongzhu said you’re never busy,” Han Mei accused.

Jiang Cheng did say that once. At least this way he got to make Wei Wuxian look like a bad liar.

“Alright, you got me,” he sighed, leaning into his Wei Wuxian persona. “Maybe one of these days, if your Sect Leader allows it, I’ll take you guys on a Night Hunt.”

All four of the disciples’ faces brightened.

“Really? It won’t be too much trouble?” Xiuying asked.

“We’ve already established I’m a lazy man. One Night Hunt isn’t going to kill me.”

“Thank you, Wei-qianbei!” Wu Yuze said earnestly. “You can always change your mind, of course, if you want. We’re not going on another Night Hunt for a while.”

Jiang Cheng hummed in acknowledgement, then set his bowl of noodles aside in exchange for his tea. He didn’t miss the excited look Xiuying cast toward her brother, or the hidden smile on Huiying’s face.

He especially didn’t miss the faraway look on Han Mei, the kind of look she got whenever she was forming a myriad of questions, and was sorting which one to ask first.

“If you take us on a Night Hunt,” she asked, “will Hanguang-jun be there?”

Jiang Cheng burnt his tongue on his tea.

“And why would you want him to be there?” he asked, hoping his smile didn’t look as fake as it felt.

“Well, why wouldn’t he be there?” Han Mei asked.

“Because he, on the other hand, is a very busy man.”

“Sure, but you two are always seen joined at the hip, right? Well, not like that, but I guess it is like that.”

“Han Mei…” Xiuying said dangerously.

If that were true at all, Jiang Cheng was going to have a serious talk with Wei Wuxian.

“Maybe he’ll be there, maybe he won’t. He doesn’t spend much time with the disciples outside of the Lan Sect, much less the Jiang Sect.” Jiang Cheng didn’t know if that was true or not, though it was an educated guess.

“Is it because Hanguang-jun doesn’t like Jiang-zongzhu?” Wu Yuze asked.

Jiang Cheng tried not to flinch. “Who told you that?”

“Well…” Xiuying began. “No one told us, exactly. It’s just that they never talk to each other, at least not that we know of.”

Jiang Cheng sighed. So, it was that obvious, wasn’t it.

“Was it because Jiang-zongzhu sort of, you know.” Wu Yuze mimed being stabbed with a sword, and gestured to Jiang Cheng. “To you?”

“I didn’t—Jiang Cheng didn’t kill me.”

Huiying’s eyes narrowed. “So that rumor is false.”

“Of course it is,” Jiang Cheng said.

Xiuying pursed her lips. “But Jiang-zongzhu never denied it. Though… I guess he would never talk about it regardless.”

“He helped to organize the Siege of the Burial Mounds,” Jiang Cheng said. It was strange to talk about himself in third-person. It was also easier. “He had the opportunity to kill me. But he lost that chance. If he hadn’t lost it, maybe he would’ve gone through with it.”

The four disciples went quiet, and took an interest in their food.

“But enough about that. How’s life been at Lotus Pier?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Xiuying, observant as ever, knew when it was time to change the subject. “Very good. It’s been peaceful lately, now that everything with the Jin Clan has mostly blown over. Jiang-zongzhu sometimes goes to visit his nephew at Jinlintai to help with sect matters.” She furrowed her brows. “Did you already know about that?”

“I have the gist of it.” Jiang Cheng had the suspicion that Wei Wuxian knew anyway.

“Oh! We should tell Wei-qianbei about the giant evil carp!” Wu Yuze said.

“You mean the carp yao?” Huiying asked.

“Technically, they were carp guai, because they were already dead,” Han Mei corrected.

“Same difference,” Huiying muttered.

“Anyway.” Wu Yuze set his noodles aside, because he always talked with his hands whenever he told a story. “About the giant evil carp—or the carp guai, or whatever—we were out on the lake a few weeks ago, and we took the boats this time, because we wanted to race each other, but we kind of lost track of time, and we didn’t realize it was already sunset when we were paddling back to Lotus Pier. As soon as the sun went down, I noticed something swimming beneath our boats, and it was causing us to get stuck in this unnatural current, no matter how hard we were trying to paddle.

“I must have leaned over the edge too much, because the boat suddenly tipped to the side, and I fell headfirst into the water. Huiying was in the same boat as me, but he didn’t fall in, and the first thing he did was cast a Water Illumination Talisman so the others could see what was—”

“No, the first thing I did was think of how stupid you were for leaning too close to the water,” Huiying interrupted. “Then I alerted the others that something was wrong, and then I cast the Water Illumination Talisman.”

“Yeah, sure,” Wu Yuze said. “Anyway, turns out there was a whole swarm—”

“School.”

“—of carp guai, and they were all trying to drown me in this weird carp-made current. That’s when Xiuying and the others used Lure Talismans on the carp, and then they tossed me the Immortal-Binding Net that we had in the boat in case of emergencies. I was holding my breath the entire time while I was swimming around the carp to trap them in the net, and then the others finished them off with their swords.”

“And then we had to haul your ass out of the water and face the wrath of Jiang-zongzhu,” Han Mei concluded.

“Oh, yeah. That part. He was so pissed at us that night.”

Jiang Cheng had, in fact, been pissed at them that night.

“He was also worried about you,” he said. It was what Wei Wuxian would have said, and it was the truth.

Xiuying laughed. “Of course he was worried about us. He’s Jiang-zongzhu.”

The disciples told at least five other stories of their adventures at Lotus Pier, all of which Jiang Cheng had heard of before, and never grew tired of. By the time they were finished with stories, noodles, and tea, it was nearly dusk.

After he said his goodbyes, he returned to his own quarters out of habit, only to remember he was supposed to be staying in the guest room.

He was about to leave when he saw Wei Wuxian seated at the desk, stationery laid out in front of him. His posture could not have been healthy for his back, and he seemed in the middle of writing something.

“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng asked.

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders tensed; but when he saw Jiang Cheng, he relaxed again. “I’m documenting our little curse situation. There were no exact records of it while we were researching in the archives, so I figured I would change that.” He narrowed his eyes. “Where were you earlier? Are you… okay?”

“I’m fine. I was with some of the junior disciples,” Jiang Cheng said.

“The ones from before?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“Yes.”

“You were with them this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“And they had no idea who you were?”

“Of course not.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. “Alright. Are you hungry?”

“All I ate today was lotus seeds and noodles, so, yes, I could eat.”

“Perfect.” Wei Wuxian put his brush down, and stood up. “I’ll order more than usual. We have a ghost to catch tonight.”

* * *

Like before, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng had their own bodies in the dreamscape. But they were not on the same mountain upon which they had fought the ghost’s imitation of Wen Qing. This time, they stood on a gravel pathway that cut through rocky cliff sides looming above them. The treeline could be seen on the tops of these cliffs, but there were no other signs of life. The sky was bleak, and it was too quiet.

Wei Wuxian had hoped he would never see this place again.

When he looked up, he saw a lonely figure standing on the edge of a stone ridge, halfway to the top of the mountain. It was so high up that he couldn’t see their face, but he was able to see other things.

He saw yellow robes and the glare of a sword.

For a moment, he expected more figures to appear—some dressed in the same gold, others dressed in white, or red, or green. He expected a mass of bows drawn, aimed at him, and waited for the first arrow to fly at his head.

None of that happened. Instead, the lonely figure leapt from the stone ridge and hurled itself towards them.

Jiang Cheng was the first to move. Wei Wuxian followed and dodged to the side. The ghost hit the ground hard, not like how a cultivator should. The gravel shook, and Wei Wuxian stumbled. The ghost swung its sword. Wei Wuxian dodged again. He realized it was solely focused on him, as if seeking revenge. The attacks came fast and heavy. He couldn’t dodge forever.

A small rock hit the side of the ghost’s head.

“Fight me, too, sonofabitch!” Jiang Cheng yelled.

The ghost turned towards Jiang Cheng’s voice. Wei Wuxian grabbed the ghost’s wrist and elbow from behind. Hurled it onto the ground. Heard its sword clatter across the gravel. Recognized it as the sword Jin Ling carried. Ran over to it. Picked it up.

Morbidly, he wished the ghost was Jin Zixun. That would have been easier than this.

A few paces away, the ghost was already on its feet. It dashed towards him with unnatural claws outstretched.

Wei Wuxian spun to evade. The sword was heavy, and he gripped the hilt with both hands. The ghost lunged again, aiming for his face. He side-stepped. Swung the sword in an arc. Watched black ooze spurt out from the ghost’s neck.

It did not stop its attacks.

Their fight went like that for some time. Wei Wuxian tried to get behind the ghost, but it wouldn’t let him. When its claws got too close, he struck back—strike to the arm here—to the shoulder there. It never slowed down. The weight of the sword, however, was unnaturally heavy. Wei Wuxian hadn’t used a sword in so long. His breaths came short and ragged.

Jiang Cheng was still throwing rocks at the ghost’s head, one rock for every word: “I! Said! Fight! Me!”

A particularly sharp rock tore off part of the ghost’s ear.

In the next breath, the ghost had wrapped its hand around Jiang Cheng’s neck.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t even blinked.

“Jiang Cheng!” It was the same tone he had used from the dream in which Lotus Pier’s ancestral hall had caved into the ground.

Jiang Cheng let out a strangled cry. He dug his nails into the ghost’s arm. His feet were lifted off the ground. His eyes were screwed shut in pain.

In the next breath, Wei Wuxian had cut the ghost’s arm clean off.

Jiang Cheng fell to the ground in a rain of gasps and coughs.

Before the ghost could react, Wei Wuxian spun around and drove the sword through its back. Then, just to be sure, he pulled the sword out, and punched his fist straight through the open wound.

The ghost coughed up black blood. It laughed a broken, monstrous laugh, low and haunting.

The scenery changed to nothing, then to sunlight.

Wei Wuxian was still in Lotus Pier when he woke up. He knew Jiang Cheng was awake as well, because he suddenly heard him gasp for air.

Wei Wuxian all but fell off the bed, tripping over the bedsheets in the process, and knelt down next to Jiang Cheng on the mattress, who was clutching tightly onto the collar of his robes, still coughing.

“Hey, are you—”

Jiang Cheng grabbed his arm and wrenched it away.

Wei Wuxian slowly withdrew his hand. He ignored the throbbing pain.

Then he checked the mark beneath his robes, and unsurprisingly found a single, black, horizontal line. He was also unsurprised to find their souls were still swapped in the wrong bodies.

Even when Jiang Cheng had stopped coughing, he did not look at Wei Wuxian.

They had won again. Wei Wuxian still felt defeated.

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk much that day. Breakfast was quiet. Lotus Pier was quiet. The flight into the city of Yunping was quiet. But Yunping itself was all noise and colors, smells of cooked meats and hot tea, common folk and their chatter, children and their laughter. Farmers sold their produce on the streets, and merchants their wares.

Jiang Cheng was not so easily distracted. He walked to their first stop of the day—a seamstress’ shop—and along the way, he told Wei Wuxian all he needed to know about Lotus Pier’s relations with the seamstress, that there were transactions to be made, and deadlines to be met. Wei Wuxian never replied unless he had the occasional question, or gave an affirmative nod.

The meeting with the seamstress went by smoothly. There were other meetings like it, one with another seamstress, and one with a fletcher. Most non-cultivators were unlikely to recognize Wei Wuxian, though Jiang Cheng had left Chenqing at Lotus Pier just in case. Once they had finished all of their necessary errands, the sun was at its zenith.

Jiang Cheng’s stomach growled. He was about to suggest returning to Lotus Pier when Wei Wuxian handed him several bronze pieces.

“Go buy something to eat,” Wei Wuxian said.

“There’s food at Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng countered.

“I wanna walk around a little more.”

Jiang Cheng knew there was enough money in the Qiankun pouch he was carrying—which belonged to Wei Wuxian—to buy him lunch for the day. He still took the money in Wei Wuxian’s hand, because it was technically his to begin with.

“Meet back here in one shichen,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wei Wuxian nodded, then turned to walk among the rest of the crowd, purple robes amidst a sea of strangers. Jiang Cheng watched him go, then walked in the other direction.

When they were boys, their fights often ended up like this. First, there would come insults, mostly from Jiang Cheng, then teasing from Wei Wuxian, and on some occasions, a scuffle that led to Jiang Yanli’s disappointment. Sometimes, Jiang Cheng would go a full day of not talking to Wei Wuixan. But then he’d grow bored, and by the day after, they’d go back to causing trouble together.

Jiang Cheng knew, at least in his mind, that Jin Guangyao and Su She were to blame for what happened at Qiongqi Path, whether Jin Zixuan’s death was intentional or not.

But he could not forget the image of the ghost, wearing Jin Zixuan’s face, standing motionless in defeat, as Wei Wuxian’s arm protruded from its gut.

Now, he sat alone on an uneven wooden stool at an uneven wooden table, beneath the outdoor patio awning of his favorite restaurant, for all the tables inside were already occupied, with a large steaming bowl of lotus and pork rib soup to make him feel better. 

A stray dog wandered up to the restaurant and lounged beneath the table. Jiang Cheng finished his meal, save for a small pork strip, and tossed it to the dog, which hungrily downed it in a few, slobbery bites. When Jiang Cheng made to leave the restaurant, the dog followed him until he made a right at an intersection filled with pedestrians. The dog, presumably distracted by some other delicious smell, was nowhere to be seen.

What he did see, however, were four of his junior disciples, all of whom were pretending they hadn’t seen him, and were failing to do so.

Before his disciples could flee, Jiang Cheng approached them with the least intimidating air he could manage. “What are you four doing here?”

The Lu twins exchanged one of their twin looks. Wu Yuze was unnaturally quiet.

Finally, Han Mei spoke. “Shopping and eating, as one naturally does. Where’s Jiang-zongzhu?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “Off on his own. Somewhere here.”

“Oh, would you like us to show you around?” Lu Xiuying asked. “Unless you’d rather be by yourself.”

“You could show me around,” Jiang Cheng said, despite already knowing every store and stall in town.

The disciples looked at each other with shy, excited looks, and led Jiang Cheng through the streets. The only one who did not seem excited was Lu Huiying, who frowned slightly at Jiang Cheng, and walked beside him at the back of their group.

“Wei-qianbei. Are you really afraid of dogs?” Huiying asked.

“Terrified,” Jiang Cheng lied.

“You didn’t seem that terrified when you gave that dog your food,” Huiying accused.

Jiang Cheng looked down at Huiying. It wasn’t the first time his junior disciple had reminded him of his nephew. “If you give a dog some food, it won’t attack you.”

“You didn’t seem terrified when it was following you either.”

“And how long were you following me?”

Huiying looked down.

Jiang Cheng fought back a smile. “Nevermind. I’m not mad at you, okay? So, what is it you all wanted to show me?”

Huiying looked up again, then pointed in a particular direction. “Hell, if it were edible.”

Jiang Cheng’s gaze followed where Huiying was pointing, and he saw a food stall tucked between a row of other food stalls. There was already a small line of customers, and one of them was given a small bowl of wontons saturated in bright red chili oil.

“Oh. Um. But I just ate,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I know, but this is Xiuying’s idea.” Huiying looked at him curiously. “Now that I think of it, that was Jiang-zongzhu’s favorite restaurant. The one you were at before.” 

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say to that. 

The other disciples looked at him expectantly. He hated being Wei Wuxian.

Ten minutes passed. The five of them were seated at a small, round, wooden table, one of many other tables arranged tightly in a crowded outdoor plaza. Reluctantly, Jiang Cheng picked at his bowl of spicy wontons with his chopsticks.

“You don’t want to do this,” he warned.

“I think I do, actually,” Xiuying said, armed with her own bowl of spicy wontons and chopsticks.

Jiang Cheng recalled an exhausting day spent in the archives room, a bag of spicy rice crackers, and a complaining Wei Wuxian. If this didn’t work, he was most definitely fucked.

“Alright, rules are simple. Three wontons each, one minute between each wonton. If you don’t eat it when I call it, you’re out,” Wu Yuze explained. “Contestants ready?”

Xiuying nodded. “Ready.”

Of all the things Jiang Cheng imagined would happen while stuck in Wei Wuxian’s body, a spicy wonton eating contest with his own junior disciple was not one of them. “Ready.”

“First one, go!” Wu Yuze said. 

The wontons, as it turned out, were very, very good. They were big and hearty with beef and prawns, garnished with green onions and chili seeds, and packed with so much flavor and texture. He remembered one instance when he was a boy, and Wei Wuxian had sabotaged his meal, hiding chili peppers at the bottom of his chicken curry. Jiang Cheng accidentally ate a whole pepper before downing several cups of water. When that made it worse, he chased Wei Wuxian halfway across Lotus Pier until Wei Wuxian tripped and fell into the lake.

Both bowls were finished at the same time. Jiang Cheng had never tasted better wontons in his whole life. Meanwhile, Xiuying’s eyes were showing signs of tears at the corners, despite her best efforts not to breathe through her mouth.

The other three disciples stared at each contestant intently.

Wu Yuze made his final judgment. “Better luck next time, Xiuying.”

Xiuying gave a small laugh. “I thought I did pretty well.”

“Just not well enough,” Huiying said.

“Hey, you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“You thought you could beat Wei-qianbei, so that’s on you.”

“How did you all know I liked spicy food?” Jiang Cheng asked, if only to further solidify his temporary identity as Wei Wuxian.

“Because you’re famous?” Han Mei said. “And everyone talks about you? All the time?”

Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes skeptically. “People talk about my high spice tolerance and fear of dogs?”

“Sort of. Everyone talks about you in Cloud Recesses.”

“Yeah, and we saw you while we were studying there,” Wu Yuze added. “Well, we didn’t really talk to you then, because you always seemed busy or were only visiting briefly, but we saw you.”

“And we also heard you never use your flute on Night Hunts with the Lan disciples,” Huiying said.

“They didn’t say never, they just said he rarely used it,” Wu Yuze retorted.

“Why don’t you use your flute on Night Hunts?” Huiying continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

Jiang Cheng was hardly Wei Wuxian, and he hardly knew anything about these Night Hunts, other than that Jin Ling occasionally joined them. But if he knew anything about Wei Wuxian, or about how Night Hunts with junior cultivators should be conducted, he had a decent guess as to what was the answer of the question.

“If the adults did all the work, then what’s the point of you kids going on a Night Hunt?”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” Wu Yuze said.

“Sounds like something Jiang-zongzhu would say, too,” Xiuying agreed.

Again, Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say to that.

“Oh, Wei-qianbei, are you still good with the bow?” Wu Yuze asked.

“Am I good with it?” Jiang Cheng thought for a moment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve used a bow. I’m out of practice.” Wei Wuxian only used his flute these days. He must be out of practice.

“So would you say Jiang-zongzhu is better than you?” Huiying asked.

No, thought Jiang Cheng. Or was he? By now, he had years worth of practice over Wei Wuxian.

But he could never be better.

His answer was no.

“Really?” Huiying sounded doubtful. “But he can shoot two arrows at the same time and hit two different targets dead-center.”

“That was only one time though,” Wu Yuze pointed out.

Huiying shot Wu Yuze a look. “Still! I could never hit two bullseyes at the same time! Look, if you put Jiang-zongzhu in an archery competition with all the other people you know who can do archery, Jiang-zongzhu is probably going to win. He’s probably the best archer in the whole cultivation world. If Wei-qianbei is worse than him.”

Jiang Cheng’s chopsticks almost snapped in his hand. He could not bring himself to correct his junior disciple. None of them had seen a real archery tournament before.

They did not understand that their Sect Leader was not the best.

“Are there any tricks to getting better quickly, Wei-qianbei?” Huiying asked.

Jiang Cheng’s attention returned to his disciple. “What makes you think there’s some sort of trick to archery?”

“There has to be something.”

Be a natural, Jiang Cheng thought. But he was always less of a natural than Wei Wuxian. Always the second closest to shoot a kite. The second closest to swim across the river. But he could not discourage his own disciples.

“Even those who are naturally talented have to put in some amount of effort,” Jiang Cheng said. “A cultivator is not born with a core. An architect is not born with intelligence. A sailor is not born with the knowledge of the stars. I’m not saying there aren’t tricks to getting ahead, because there’s always hidden tricks in any skill or trade. One of these days I might even show you. But out of all the greatest archers in the world, or the greatest runners, or swimmers, poets, or painters, there isn’t a single instance in which it happened overnight.”

All four of his disciples stared at him.

“Wei-qianbei,” Wu Yuze said in awe. “Have you ever considered being a substitute for Lan Qiren?”

At that, Jiang Cheng actually laughed. “Never in a million years.”

“Why not?” Han Mei whined. “You’d be so much more interesting to listen to.”

“Lan Qiren would never let me.”

“Just have Hanguang-jun put in a good word for you, or something. Figure it out.”

“Definitely not.” Never again would he make Wei Wuxian sound wise.

“Why not? It wouldn’t be taking advantage of him, would it? Why wouldn’t he put in a good word—” Han Mei gasped. “Are you two fighting? Is that why he’s not here with you?”

Xiuying resolutely pinched her ear. “Han Mei!”

“Ow!”

Jiang Cheng waved his hand dismissively. “Let her fantasize. It won’t affect me.”

Han Mei rubbed her ear. “But where is he? Does he even know you’re in Lotus Pier?”

“I’m sure he knows.”

Han Mei’s eyes lit up. “Aha! So you assume he knows, but you don’t know for sure if he knows.”

“He knows. And I’m an adult. Adults can take care of themselves.”

“Um, guys—”

“Hold on, Yuze. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

“No, seriously—”

“Look, Wei-qianbei.” Han Mei leaned her weight against the table, and stared directly into Jiang Cheng’s eyes, like she had discovered his deepest, darkest secret. “Ever since you’ve arrived at Lotus Pier, you’ve been acting strange. You’re way too serious, dare I say a little sad, meaning you and Hanguang-jun must be fighting, which would explain why you’ve suddenly arrived at Lotus Pier—”

“Oh, gods.” Huiying made himself as small as possible. Wu Yuze did the same.

“—which would also explain Jiang-zongzhu’s sudden carefree attitude wherever he goes, which would also explain why we found him swimming half-naked that one time while you were sulking over lotus seeds—”

“Han Mei,” Xiuying pleaded.

"—so you have to make things right again, right now, or you will never hear the end of it from me.”

“Han— Um. Behind you,” Wu Yuze whispered.

Han Mei paused. She turned around, and promptly turned bright red. “Oh, fuck.”

“Foul language is prohibited,” Lan Wangji recited, but he was not looking at Han Mei.

Being Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng decided, was the absolute worst.

Chapter Text

Once they had regrouped with Wei Wuxian further in the market, Jiang Cheng convinced him to send all four disciples home, leaving the two of them in addition to Lan Wangji behind in the town square. Jiang Cheng decided that once he had his own body back, the first thing he was going to do was make Han Mei run laps in the training grounds for running her mouth.

“You said you wouldn’t visit Yunmeng,” Lan Wangji said, looking directly at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng’s mind blanked. Then he glared at Wei Wuxian, who had taken an interest in the dirt at his feet.

“You weren’t going to visit Yunmeng?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Hold on, I—” Wei Wuxian stopped.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji was turning very pale, and very alarmed.

Jiang Cheng sighed. “Well, shit.”

* * *

Whatever the reactions of the Jiang Sect disciples had been to Wei Wuxian’s arrival, their reactions to Lan Wangji strolling through Lotus Pier’s entrance were about the same, only mildly more terrified.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji ignored all of them and headed straight to the throne hall. Guards, servants, and disciples alike were sent out. Wei Wuxian flung a Noise-Canceling Talisman on the closed doors. Then he turned to Lan Wangji.

“You found my body quickly. Did you use the Scent Talisman?”

“The fucking what?” Jiang Cheng blurted.

“Oh, it’s something I invented recently. You stick it to something that smells of the person you want to track, and it tells you where to go.”

Jiang Cheng did not respond.

“Please explain what happened,” Lan Wangji said.

And so they did. At the end, Lan Wangji’s usual mask of serenity was now so visibly distraught that anyone could see it. Wei Wuxian nearly reached out his hand to console him; but considering he currently looked like Jiang Cheng, he had the feeling that would be a very bad idea.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Lan Wangji asked.

“We thought you would freak out,” Wei Wuxian replied.

“I would not freak out.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “You definitely freaked out.”

Lan Wangji paused. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Moral support?” Wei Wuxian suggested.

Jiang Cheng quietly facepalmed.

“I will stay anyway,” Lan Wangji said. “In case something goes wrong in the dreamscape. I could try lending spiritual energy to heal either of you.”

“That could help… I hope.” Wei Wuxian mused. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be back in the Hubei region so soon? Everything went okay in Gusu?”

“Everything went well. I... thought I would surprise you. By meeting with you earlier.”

“Oh! That’s sweet.”

Jiang Cheng immediately stepped between them.

“Oh, no. Oh, nononono. You are not—neither of you will subject me to your sweet talk with each other while you”—he pointed to Wei Wuxian—“have my body. It’s so weird. So fucking weird. Do not make this weird.”

“You know, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian teased, all grins and mischief, “assuming we’re somehow unable to successfully swap back, would you still love me if I was stuck in Jiang Cheng’s body?”

“Do not fucking answer that. I don’t want to know.”

Unless Wei Wuxian was seeing things, he thought Lan Wangji looked mildly ill. He laughed. “I’m just kidding!”

The others did not laugh.

Wei Wuxian cleared his throat. Then he continued, more seriously this time, “Look. I know you two aren’t the best of friends, and I understand why.” He paused, then placed his hands on their shoulders. “But I think… you two need to start getting along. Because to me right now, this is starting to look like a breakup.”

Jiang Cheng glared at him. “Wei Wuxian!”

Lan Wangji, however, could not look at either of them. “Please don’t tease.”

“I’m kind of serious here, actually. Just—please get along? Or at least work on your friendship skills after we defeat this curse.”

Lan Wangji paused for a long moment. Then: “For you, I will try.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile turned genuine. “Knew I could count on you.”

“I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Jiang Cheng, that means you, too.”

“Shut up.” Then, unless Wei Wuxian was seeing things, an unnamed emotion passed over Jiang Cheng’s expression. “Actually, there’s something I want to do before tonight.”

“What is it?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“Just follow me,” Jiang Cheng said. “Both of you, I guess.”

Wei Wuxian had not expected Jiang Cheng to lead them to the armory. When Lan Wangji hesitated at the entrance, Jiang Cheng motioned for him to follow. Inside, the walls were lined with blades of various sizes and shapes, bows and quivers of arrows, some spiritual devices he recognized, and others that were newly acquired. The armory was not massive, but it was well-maintained.

At the far back wall, resting on a high shelf, was Suibian. Jiang Cheng reached up to take the sword in his hands, still in its sheath, and offered it to Wei Wuxian.

For a long, quiet moment, Wei Wuxian did not take Suibian. He had forgotten what it was like to see his own body in possession of his sword, rather than his flute. He had not used his sword in years.

“Take it already,” Jiang Cheng huffed.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“It’s yours, you moron. You know how much trouble I had to go through to maintain this piece of junk? You never once thought to polish or sharpen it after you turned to Demonic Cultivation, so I had to do all the work ever since you dumped it off to me last year. The least you can do is say thanks.”

Sure enough, when Wei Wuxian took the sword and unsheathed it halfway, the blade was sharp and reflective, as if it were new, forged for war.

“I…” Wei Wuxian began softly. “Can I—”

“Do whatever you want,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, eyes cast down and arms crossed. “I should have given it to you two days ago.”

“It’s not your fault. To be honest… I hadn’t thought of it either. We were too busy figuring out how to deal with the curse.”

“Still. I should have remembered.”

Slowly, Wei Wuxian returned the sword to its sheath, and gently ran his fingers along the hilt. And he hugged Jiang Cheng.

“H-Hey! Don’t touch me!”

“You said I could do whatever I want.” Wei Wuxian hugged him tighter.

“I meant with the sword, asshole!” Jiang Cheng squirmed in his grip. “Let go of me!”

“My body is very huggable, you know.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Over the past two days, Wei Wuxian had flown on Sandu. Flying on Suibian did not physically feel much different; but to use his own sword and core again, intune with each other, was living a dream he didn’t want to wake from.

From the sky, he could see the layout of Lotus Pier, the expanse of the river. From the sky, Suibian was his. But only for less than a day.

He returned to the clearing where he had initially taken off from, and found Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji still standing in the grass, surprisingly in the midst of conversation. When they saw Wei Wuxian land, they stopped talking.

“What was that about just now?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“Nothing,” Jiang Cheng said.

Like always, Lan Wangji’s face was nearly unreadable; but to Wei Wuxian, he thought he looked at peace.

“Alright… Anyway, Lan Zh— Um. You wanna race? On our swords? I know a good path over the river that Jiang Cheng and I always used.”

Lan Wangji gave a curt nod. “We can race.” Then, for some unknown reason, he nodded at Jiang Cheng, who wordlessly nodded back.

Wei Wuxian would have to ask later. For now, he would race Lan Wangji in the clouds, and enjoy his last moments of having his core.

* * *

Jiang Cheng did not stay to watch Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji depart on their swords. Instead, he picked up his bow, a quiver of arrows, and headed to the training grounds. Most cultivators, other than the ones that resided at Lotus Pier, did not realize, or remember, that Sect Leader Jiang was skilled with a bow. Unlike Jin Ling, he never carried one with him. But everyday, he practiced. Everyday, he got better.

He notched his first arrow. Pulled back the string.

Snippets of his earlier conversation with Lan Wangji came back to him.

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji said.

Jiang Cheng raised a brow, confused. “For what?”

“Wei Ying’s happiness.”

Jiang Cheng let the arrow fly.

“He would still have his core today,” Jiang Cheng said bitterly. “If it weren’t for me.”

“No. It is not your fault.”

The arrow struck home.

“It was his choice to give you his core. If a similar situation happened to me and my brother, I don’t know if it would have been much different.”

Another arrow. Another bullseye.

“That’s strange, coming from you,” Jiang Cheng said.

“What is strange?” Lan Wangji asked.

“I thought you would’ve been angry at me. At least angrier than usual.”

“Wei Ying has said to not dwell on the past. So, I will not dwell.”

Nine out of ten arrows hit the targets dead-center. If the real Wei Wuxian were here, competing against him, there would have been ten more arrows, and all ten of them would have been bullseyes.

* * *

The third dreamscape was Nightless City. Wei Wuxian was immediately on guard.

He and Jiang Cheng looked like themselves again. They both stood in the plaza at the base of the stairs of the Scorching Sun Palace. Blood stained the stone tiles beneath them, but there were no bodies. The sky was darker than it had ever been before. A small shadow was laying on the ground several paces away.

“It’s… not attacking,” Jiang Cheng said.

Wei Wuxian preferred it to attack. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Slowly, the two of them approached the shadow, and saw garments red with blood. A sword buried in its chest. A gentle face, its eyes closed.

“Is it—is it really the ghost?” Jiang Cheng whispered.

Wei Wuxian’s fists clenched by his sides. “It is.”

“Then why won’t it attack us?”

Suddenly, Jiang Yanli’s eyes opened, and they were hers.

Wei Wuxian grabbed Jiang Cheng’s arm. “Listen to me. We need to extract the sword and use it to finish it off.”

“Her eyes.” Jiang Cheng’s voice trembled. “Why are her eyes—”

“Listen. If you won’t do it, I will.”

“No… No, I’ll do it.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.” Jiang Cheng was still trembling. “I won’t let you kill her again.”

It was not the first time Wei Wuxian’s heart had broken.

Wordlessly, Jiang Cheng pulled his arm from Wei Wuxian’s grip, and took three steps forward.

A-Cheng.

Jiang Cheng froze.

A-Xian.

Wei Wuxian yelled to drown her out. “The sword!”

Jiang Cheng’s hand shook as he reached for the hilt.

Save me, A-Cheng.

He froze again. It was enough for the ghost.

Wei Wuxian watched as blood splattered across the stone tiles. Watched as Jiang Cheng choked on his pain—watched him place one hand against his abdomen—watched him sway on his feet—watched him fall to the ground.

In the hours to come, Wei Wuxian would remember how it ended. He had disarmed the ghost from behind—had taken the sword in his own hand—had buried it deep in the ghost’s neck—had twisted it.

He did not immediately remember those things when he woke up in the real world. He did not immediately realize he had his own body back, that his soul was back where it belonged. All he knew, at that moment, was that Jiang Cheng was in pain, and that Lan Wangji was desperately trying to heal him.

“He started screaming in his sleep. But there is no blood,” Lan Wangji explained.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t screaming now, but he was lying on the bed, eyes closed, furrows in his brow. Lan Wangji stood next to him, transferring spiritual energy. A dim ball of light hovered in the room. It was still dark outside.

That’s when Wei Wuxian noticed it. 

At first, he almost thought it was Lan Wangji’s shadow, cast by the ball of light. But the shadow did not mirror Lan Wangji’s form. It took shape, barely corporal, wisps of resentment seeping and dissipating from its skin. It did not have a face or a mouth. Still, it made a sound: two voices moaning in harmonious agony. 

Lan Wangji also noticed it. He could not move, for he was still transferring spiritual energy to Jiang Cheng, who had a sheen layer of sweat on his brow. Lan Wangji noticed something else, too, on the other side of the room, and Wei Wuxian followed his gaze. 

Another ghostly form identical to the first staggered to its feet. It rose near the bed in which Wei Wuxain had slept, and he realized with a start that this second form was the second voice; they were two halves of one whole. Apart, they struggled to reach each other, no stronger than a pair of newborn twins. The sounds they made were all the screams, sobs, and laughter from all the dreamscapes combined. 

He kept his eyes on each half of the ghost. Reached behind him for Chenqing resting on the low table. Held the flute to his lips. And played. 

That night, no one in Lotus Pier would hear what happened in the Sect Leader’s quarters, aside from those already in it. The Noise-Canceling Talisman glowed softly from its place on the door. It trapped the sound of Chenqing, trapped the shrill screams of the ghost as the resentment tethering both forms was slowly, painfully, ripped apart by the seams. 

Wei Wuxian knew his eyes were glowing red, for he could feel Lan Wangji’s stare boring into his temple. He was nearly glad he no longer had his golden core. 

Undead creatures, like Wen Ning, could not feel pain. They could not feel anything. Through the cold, sharp notes of Chenqing, Wei Wuxian told the ghost to kill itself. 

He hoped the ghost could feel pain now. 

Both halves were torn apart. If the ghost had been a man, its skull would have cracked down the middle. The two forms became less corporal, more air, all sound. Wei Wuxian did not rush his performance. He watched as the ghost dispersed, slowly, into nothing. 

Silence filled the room. Exhaustion nearly overcame him then. He hooked Chenqing to his belt, stumbled towards Lan Wangji’s side, sat on the bed, and held his little brother’s hand in his. 

“You can’t let him die,” Wei Wuxian begged.  

“I will not,” Lan Wangji promised.

For a moment, Wei Wuxian wondered if he should tear apart the Noise-Canceling Talisman they had put on the door earlier that evening. He should get a real doctor, or one of Lotus Pier’s medics. He should stay by Jiang Cheng’s side. He did not know what to do.

Jiang Cheng's mouth moved. “Stop…”

Wei Wuxian sat up at once, eyes wide. He held onto his brother’s hand firmly. “Jiang Cheng! It’s over. We did it. Can you open your eyes?”

Jiang Cheng pulled his arm away from Lan Wangji. “I s-said stop.”

Lan Wangji did not fight back.

“You’re not in pain anymore?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“I…” Jiang Cheng blinked slowly. He sat up in bed slowly. “Send him out.”

Wei Wuxian faltered. “What? Lan Zhan? You can’t—”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji said.

“But—”

“He has more than enough spiritual energy. He will be fine.”

Wei Wuxian stayed quiet, and watched Lan Wangji exit the room. He looked back at Jiang Cheng; and although his little brother’s hair was down, partially obscuring his face, Wei Wuxian knew he was crying.

“You’re okay,” Wei Wuxian said, if only to remind himself. “We did it. We have our bodies back.”

“I couldn’t do it,” Jiang Cheng sobbed. “I couldn’t...”

“That doesn’t matter. It won’t hurt us anymore. It’s gone.”

“It was—never trying to kill us.” Jiang Cheng was all grown up, but at that moment, to Wei Wuxian, he looked like a boy again. “It—pretended to be her. All of them. It was only trying—trying to—”

Wei Wuxian hugged him. It was their second hug in the last six shichen, and it would probably remain their last for a long time.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “We have our own bodies again. We’re okay.”

“But you don’t have...”

“I don’t care about that. I gave it to you.”

Jiang Cheng shook his head. He was still sobbing.

“It’s yours.” There were tears in Wei Wuxian’s eyes as well, yet he still smiled. “And I won’t let you return it.”

Curses were like parasites. They could be defeated, or passed on to others, or returned to a previous host. Wei Wuxian had made sure that the curse had been defeated. Their curse markings were gone. Their souls were in their respective bodies again. His core was not.

Wei Wuxian wrote down everything that had happened over the last three days in his report on the curse, then filed it away in the archives. Afterward, he walked along the familiar pathways of Lotus Pier, and eventually, he came to stand in the shade of a pavilion at the end of one of the docks. It was mid-morning, but he was one of the few individuals awake. Most of the disciples had probably stayed up late playing games, or drinking in secret, or both. Even Lan Wangji was resting in the guest chambers, for he had stayed up all night to keep watch during the dreamscape.

Last night, after Jiang Cheng’s breakdown was over, it had been difficult for him to sleep again.

“I keep thinking about them,” Jiang Cheng had said, his voice hoarse and stuffed up. He had been sitting up in bed, Wei Wuxian next to him. “I managed to stop thinking about them for years, and now I can’t stop thinking about them.”

Wei Wuxian did not have to ask who “them” referred to. “Would it help if you thought about something else?”

Jiang Cheng sniffled. “Like what?”

“Umm, let’s see…” Wei Wuxian was quiet, but not soft enough to show pity. Jiang Cheng would not have appreciated it. “What if I told you about my travels over the past year? We haven't seen each other since Guanyin Temple.”

“There’s a chance I’ll just tune you out. If it’s boring.”

“I’m not boring. But, fine. I get it. How about… instead of you listening to me talk, I make you talk instead?”

“About…?”

“Let me think. Oh, what did you do the second day I was here? Didn’t you say you were with your junior disciples?”

“I—was. They were—they invited me to a picnic.”

“A picnic?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“With noodles and tea,” Jiang Cheng said, as if that explained anything. “They look up to you. All because they were influenced by—by those disciples at the lectures.”

“Lectures? Ah, you mean the Cloud Recesses. That would make sense.”

“I told them I was taller than you.”

Wei Wuxian gasped. “Jiang Cheng! You do have a sense of humor.”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng muttered.

“Right, you’re doing the talking. So tell me how you ran into them at the market yesterday.”

“We… They were following me, at first. As if the infamous Wei-qianbei was a magnet for curious children who don’t know how to behave properly.”

“I’m flattered.” Wei Wuxian gladly noticed that Jiang Cheng’s voice was shaking less.

“They made me eat spicy wontons with chili oil, and they were really good.” Jiang Cheng gave a small smile. “I beat Lu Xiuying in a contest. To see who could manage the spice better. Your taste buds helped with that.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. “You should try them with your own taste buds now. Maybe you’ll still appreciate the spice.”

“Doubt it.”

“Still worth a try.”

“Whatever.” Jiang Cheng paused. His voice wavered again. “They think—that I’m good at archery.”

Oh no, Wei Wuxian thought. And they had been doing so well. He mentally prepared himself for another breakdown. “Of course you’re good at archery. Why is that a problem?”

“They think—that I’m the best.” The word sounded like venom from Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “They’ve never seen you with a bow before. Or the Ghost General with one, either.”

“I’m out of practice,” Wei Wuxian admitted. “Wen Ning, too.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Still. I’m not…”

“Jiang Cheng. Do you practice archery often?”

“Yes? You think I’m stupid enough to only rely on Zidian? If I don’t practice with the sword and bow, I’ll just become out of practice like you.”

Wei Wuxian hummed. “So you’re good at those things.”

“I’m… not bad.”

“Right. If you’re not bad, then you must be good. It’s simple logic.”

Jiang Cheng went quiet.

“I could always list all the other things you’re good at,” Wei Wuxian said.

“No. Just… let me sleep. I’m tired.”

Wei Wuxian did not know if Jiang Cheng had really gone back to sleep. But he never had another breakdown, so that was enough.

Out on the pavilion, Wei Wuxian leaned against the railing and watched the ripples of the lake. There were few clouds in the sky, letting the water reflect the sunlight. A dragonfly hovered over the lotus flowers, and on one of the leaves, a frog rested to sunbathe. Wei Wuxian took a deep, slow breath. The air was refreshing.

From behind, he could hear footsteps on the dock. Jiang Cheng joined his side, dressed in his usual purple robes, his hair tied neatly in its usual bun; and for a moment, Wei Wuxian almost thought it weird to see their own bodies with their respective souls. He perished the thought and turned to Jiang Cheng.

“You’re looking much better,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. He sounded tired, and it was the only sign that showed he had cried only hours before. “I have something to tell you, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I may have… told the junior disciples you’d accompany them on a Night Hunt. Sometime in the future.”

Six seconds. That is how much time passed before Wei Wuxian’s jaw dropped. “Huh? Why? What for?

“They asked for it.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Jiang Cheng sighed. “You kept A-Ling alive, as much as he throws himself into danger wherever he goes. You wouldn't want anything bad to happen to my disciples, would you?”

Wei Wuxian did not hide his smile. “I’m great with kids.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. If this was what forgiveness looked like, Wei Wuxian would accept it.

“Listen. What happened over these last three days—we can keep it between us and Lan Zhan.”

“What, you’d rather have us tell the entirety of Lotus Pier what really happened?”

“Of course not. Though… it would be funny to see A-Ling’s reaction if we told him. Or maybe he won’t give any reaction at all. I could see him acting like it’s nothing. He’d probably say something like, ‘So what? Not my problem.’”

“You’d tell him that you killed a ghost’s imitation of his father?”

Wei Wuxian stiffened. He was not truly offended. He could also not bring himself to respond.

“I meant—” Jiang Cheng stopped. Looked away. “Nevermind. That wasn’t...”

“Sometimes,” Wei Wuxian began, before he could allow Jiang Cheng’s thoughts to spiral, “I’ve thought about whether I should visit the Jin Clan’s ancestral hall, or if I should just stay far away from it. Either way, I probably wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near it.”

“…Definitely not.”

Wei Wuixan observed Jiang Cheng carefully. “But if you want, maybe one of these days, I can take you to Qishan to visit Wen Qing’s cenotaph.”

Jiang Cheng did not move. He did not speak for a long time. And then: “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Wei Wuxian understood. “It doesn’t have to be any time soon.”

Another long pause. Wei Wuxian was patient. But the response he waited for was not one that he had expected.

“If there’s one person we can pay our respects to,” Jiang Cheng said, “it’s Jiejie.”

* * *

After Wei Wuxian’s death, Jiang Cheng had thought he was alone. Neither of his parents were there to guide him. His sister was not there to confide in. His brother was not there to serve as his right-hand man.

The Siege of the Burial Mounds had been a success. A series of meetings were held at Golden Carp Tower thereafter to reestablish peace amongst the clans. Sect Leaders older and more experienced than Jiang Cheng commended his leadership. He had never received so much praise before. He didn’t know what to do with it.

The meetings spanned over several days. On the first night, Jiang Cheng did not immediately retire to his room and instead asked for the midwife who tended to Jin Ling to bring him his nephew. At that moment, the infant in his arms became the most important thing to him in the world. Only then did he allow himself to grieve.

Four years later, Jin Ling was bullied for the first time. Jin Guangyao had not yet given him Fairy, so the only company he had were the adults who took care of him, including Jiang Cheng, who did not know of the bullying incident until nearly three months later while Jin Ling was staying in Lotus Pier for a few weeks.

Jiang Cheng had been standing on one of the wooden walkways, giving instructions to a few of his disciples for some task, when Jin Ling had come running to his side.

“Jiujiu! I know! I know!”

What Jin Ling was trying to say was that he had an idea. Of course, Jiang Cheng knew this.

“A-Ling, I’m busy right now. I said I’d play with you later.”

“No, Jiujiu! Not play. I know! Jiujiu can be Baba, too!”

Jiang Cheng froze. His disciples also froze.

“A-Ling,” he said, looking down at his nephew. “You do not call me Baba. You can only call me Jiujiu.”

“No,” Jin Ling pouted, with the defiance of a toddler. “I want you to be Baba.”

The disciples took Jiang Cheng’s stunned silence as permission to dismiss themselves. He did not try to stop them, and instead knelt down on one knee to bring himself to Jin Ling’s height, and looked him in the eye.

“I’m not your baba. Do you understand? I’m your jiujiu. Your mama’s didi.”

“I… can only call you Jiujiu?”

Jiang Cheng knew that tone. It meant Jin Ling was dangerously on the brink of crying.

“Why do you want to call me Baba, A-Ling? Did someone say something mean to you?”

“Yes…”

“Who was it?”

“Not nice people,” Jin Ling mumbled.

“Were they your age?”

Jin Ling shook his head. “Like me, but bigger. They called me spoiled because I don’t have a mama or baba, but you can be my new baba, and if I get a mama too, then I won’t be spoiled.”

Jiang Cheng had decided then that he would rather beat whoever had said those things than hear Jin Ling retell him the story. As if never meeting one’s parents were a commonality.

He picked up Jin Ling in his arms and stood up. He kissed his nephew on the cheek.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you a new mama or baba, A-Ling,” he said softly. “Can I still be your jiujiu?”

“Okay,” Jin Ling said. He sounded disappointed. “Did you know my mama if you’re her didi?”

“Yes.”

“Who was my mama?”

“She was a good person.” Jiang Cheng cried for the first time since he held Jin Ling as an infant, all those nights ago in the nursery at Golden Carp Tower. “She made really good soup.”

*     *     *

In the ancestral hall, two brothers burned incense and bowed at the altar. The sound of trickling water filled the otherwise silent room. When Jiang Cheng looked up, three certain tablets looked down at him. He remembered the day Jin Ling had asked him who his mother was, right outside on the walkway. Jiang Cheng regretted not telling him more.

“A-Die. A-Niang. Jiejie. I wanted to let you know.” He hesitated. “I wanted to let you know… that Wei Wuxian is welcome at Lotus Pier.”

He paused again. Could feel Wei Wuxian's eyes on him.

“If he acts out of line,” he continued, “I will discipline him myself. Until then, he will be treated as one of our own.”

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian asked softly. He sounded so uncertain of himself.

Jiang Cheng tried to glare at him, and failed. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“It’s just… the last time, you… when Lan Zhan and I were here—”

“A lot has happened since then.”

Wei Wuxian almost seemed at a loss for words. “I… suppose so.”

Jiang Cheng looked away. “You don’t have to stay. If you don’t want to.”

“Right… Well. It’d look weird if I stayed any longer. You have a sect to run.”

“And what do you have to do?”

“Pick up Little Apple. Poor thing has been left alone all this time, probably in some decrepit stable with no apples to snack on.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Don’t forget you owe my junior disciples a Night Hunt.”

Wei Wuxian laughed. “I’m looking forward to it.”

It was midday when Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were prepared to depart by boat. Jiang Cheng stood on the dock along with several of his other disciples, though it was by no means a formal farewell. Jiang Cheng had even said that it was not required to see them off. Of course, the Lu twins and their friends had been among the first to come running to the dock.

“You’re leaving already, Wei-qianbei?” Huiying asked.

“It seems I am.”

For all their differences in opinions, Huiying and Wu Yuze looked similarly disappointed.

Wei Wuxian smiled at them. “Don’t worry. Jiang Cheng already approved for me to chaperone you on a Night Hunt sometime, so you haven’t seen the last of me yet.”

Jiang Cheng was pleasantly surprised to see his junior disciples light up with excitement. Wei Wuxian had never even met them properly during the soul swap. Perhaps he was indeed good with kids.

“Hanguang-jun,” Han Mei said, a little bashfully. “I’m so sorry for gossiping about you like that, back in Yunping. Please know that I never meant to offend you.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji said.

“Huh? What gossiping?” Wei Wuxian asked.

Jiang Cheng gave him a pointed look, as if to say, You weren't there.

“Oh! That gossiping,” Wei Wuxian said, the bullshitter he was. “Don’t worry. Lan Zhan forgives you, even if you can’t tell.”

Han Mei nudged Xiuying with her elbow, and Xiuying nudged back.

Jiang Cheng turned to Wei Wuxian. “Are you sure you have everything?”

“Yep. Double-checked everything.” Wei Wuxian patted Chenqing hanging from his belt. He had not carried it for the past three days.

Three days. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t enough. Jiang Cheng wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“Where will you go after you pick up your donkey?”

“Lan Zhan said he heard there was trouble bothering some folk a little East from here. From there, I’m not sure. We like to be spontaneous sometimes.”

“I see." Jiang Cheng paused. "Well. It’s been good seeing you again.”

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Considering it all, it could’ve been worse.”

Jiang Cheng frowned.

And he brought Wei Wuxian in for a hug.

Wei Wuxian seemed startled at first. The last time Jiang Cheng had been the one to initiate a hug between them was the night of Wei Wuxian’s reappearance after three months, nearly two decades ago. But then Wei Wuxian returned the hug, and Jiang Cheng was grateful for it. He closed his eyes. His tears would be less noticeable that way. 

“Remember what I said. Lotus Pier welcomes you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

They stayed like that for a moment. Jiang Cheng was the first to step back. “Take care of yourself.”

Wei Wuxian smiled and wiped at his own eyes. “As should you.”

Jiang Cheng watched as Wei Wuxian climbed into the boat alongside Lan Wangji—watched his disciples wave and shout their goodbyes—watched the boat grow smaller and smaller—and realized that the ghost had never stood a chance to begin with. It had lost at its own game.

He still did not think he fully understood the meaning of forgiveness. But he could live knowing that the healthy flow of spiritual energy through his meridians was because Wei Wuxian had never abandoned him. When he thought of his brother, he did not immediately think of death. Instead, he thought of a flute, of a smile, of chili oil wontons. And if he thought back further, he thought of the lake, of lotus seeds, of his sister. It wouldn’t be long until he saw his brother again. He had a good feeling about it.

The bad thoughts, of course, would always remain. But the good thoughts were only just being rediscovered. It would not be fair to have one without the other. And that, perhaps, was all that really mattered, in the end, to Jiang Cheng.