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Chapter Text

“Bad news, Nie Huaisang has died!”

“That Headshaker has died? How could he have died?”

“They’re saying it was a qi deviation.”

“Qi deviation? Why that’s absurd! He has not once wielded his saber nor is his cultivation nearly strong enough for such a thing to happen!”

“Well, it is true that Nie Huaisang has always had a fragile disposition since birth. But I heard that the added grief of Chifeng-zun’s death and betrayal from that son of a whore Jin Guangyao had taken a heavy toll on his mental state.” 

“Some disciples were even saying he went mad . They confessed that the poor Sect Leader was hearing voices that weren’t there and roamed the grounds of the Unclean Realm at night muttering for his da-ge to return to him. Why, there were even some who whispered that he may have invested in the demonic arts to try and revive him!”

“Bah! That’s just hearsay. Nie Huaisang was as helpless as a motherless calf learning how to walk right out of the womb. Everyone knows that the Headshaker was not nearly strong nor wise enough to harness such resentful energy. Didn’t you always see him crying in the arms of Zewu-jun and the late Lianfang-zun? Why I heard, in his youth, that he had to return to the Cloud Recesses three times because he had done so poorly in his classes!”

“Speaking of Zewu-jun, I heard he came out of seclusion for the funeral.”

“Of course he would! After all, Nie Huaisang was the precious didi of his sworn brother.”

“Oh but I heard they weren’t on good terms since the truth of that wretched Jin Guangyao came to light. In fact, there was said to be a massive falling out between the two!”

“It’s true! Why, just a week before, Nie Huaisang had visited the Cloud Recesses. For what? No one knows. But a few Lan disciples overheard the two of them get into a thunderous dispute. They said they had never heard the gentle-hearted Lan Xichen raise his voice like that before…”

“Whatever words that were said must be weighing heavily now. Lan Xichen had collapsed at the wake in grief, and Lan Qiren feared there would be another qi deviation right then and there.”

“Even Hanguang-jun looked sad for the late Nie Huaisang. If they weren’t so distant these past few years, you would almost forget they were considered childhood friends, alongside the late Jin Zixuan.”

“How tragic. Is that why Sect Leader Jin personally helped fund the ceremony? I never knew them to be so close.”

“Well, it’s not much of a surprise. I’ve been told that Nie Huaisang played a part in raising Jin Rulan in those first few years of life alongside Sect Leader Jiang. After all, the two older sect leaders were also acquaintances during their school days in Gusu.”

“Ha! ‘Acquaintances’, you say? You didn’t hear this from me, but rumor has it that the two may have been…involved.”

“Please, the Sandu Shengshou, a cut sleeve? HA! It was already a shock to hear that the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-jun had tied the knot, but the fearsome Jiang Wanyin? There’s just no way that’s possible!”

“Besides, didn’t you see them during the last Discussion Conference? For years, Sect Leader Jiang had been seated beside the Nie sect, but, since Jin Guangyao’s passing, he had willingly placed himself next to Wei Wuxian of all people!” 

“But didn’t you hear? Sect Leader Jiang was caught with one of the Headshaker’s beloved fans at the funeral. Even more scandalous, there was a clarity bell dangling from its strap!”

“A clarity bell? For anyone to possess that outside of the Jiang Sect, that’s basically a marriage vow!”

“And his face…oh, if you had seen it, you would think his beloved died rather than an estranged friend.”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions, but, if that were the case, it finally makes sense why he still hasn’t settled for a wife all these years.”

“It’s such a shame for Nie Huaisang to die so early on. It’s only been a year since he was given the title of Chief Cultivator. And I must admit, he had been doing quite well, why even more so than Jin Guangyao had, despite having such a frivolous reputation preceding him.”

“Hanguang-jun is said to be next in line for the position. Although, there have been talks of dispersing the position altogether. Heaven forbid the Yiling Patriarch tries his hand at it, but even he has proven himself capable in the recent months…”

“I guess now, all we can do is pray to the Heavens that the cultivation world doesn’t fall to ruin. May Nie Huaisang find peace in the afterlife…”

There is nothing to be done after a soul has left the body. 

The cultivation world has already dealt with enough havoc caused by the resurrection of the dead. After all, he’s still prancing about with his husband at the Cloud Recesses. 

Life moves on; people move on. 

The scandal of Jin Guangyao turns into old news, and new rumors spring up in their place. Familiar faces age and decay. Those who do remember have since made peace with this ending. 

Spring turns into Summer, into Winter, into Autumn, until it is Spring once again for many more years.

In the first year, nothing happened.

In the second year, nothing happened. 

In the third year, nothing happened. 

…

Even in the thirteenth year, nothing happened either. 

Unfortunately, the reality of this story is that nothing else will happen in this lifetime. 

Before long, Nie Huaisang the Headshaker is a name lost to time.

…

Until he wakes up again.

Chapter Text

Nie Huaisang did not believe in miracles.

He believed indisputable truths and provable calculations, thrived in certainties and absolutes. Huaisang liked to make sure he had all his bases covered, that there were contingency plans for anything that could fall out of line. After all, he didn’t take down that snake Jin Guangyao by waiting on divine intervention—he carefully crafted the perfect revenge and won.

So when he finds himself waking up after supposedly dying, Huaisang already had three reasons in mind to explain his current predicament. 

1) Someone found his body before his heart stopped beating.

This is the most realistic possibility between the three. Although his plan should have been fool-proof, it relied too much on routine. A servant coming into his chambers that deviated from their scheduled norm. An unexpected visitor that needed his immediate attention. Or even something as simple as saying one too many words at dinner that may have caused suspicion amongst his disciples of their sect leader’s plan for the night.

Just one slip would cause his plan to crumble. 

The second possibility had a less likelihood of being true, but it was something Huaisang could not officially rule out: 

2) Someone was stupid enough to resurrect him for whatever diabolic reason.  

Dead people wouldn’t open their eyes unless they had been changed into a fierce corpse. Why someone would want to resurrect the foolish Headshaker is beyond his understanding, but one couldn’t possibly know the necessity of their role in the grand scheme of things until they were already playing the game.  

However, in Huaisang’s years of studying Wei Wuxian’s abandoned scripts, it should have been impossible for him to become a fierce corpse. Xiao Xingchen would attest to that theory. 

Those with shattered souls didn’t get the pleasure of returning.   

Of course, theories could always be proven wrong in the end, thus what makes them theories to begin with, so his situation at the current moment could have been one of those times. 

He feels his wrists, but the skin is smooth and unmarred. There are no signs of uneven scarring, not even the rough graze of bandages—a healer could have been called. He could only assume that he had not cut deep enough to scar. 

To bleed out was just a precaution; the poison should have done most of the work. 

So far, scenario one is winning. 

His hand falls to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his useless heart against the pads of his fingers. A sure sign that, unfortunately, he is still alive. 

Huaisang feels faint. A burning sensation in his abdomen leaves his stomach riddled in knots. He lowers his gaze down at his hands, which suddenly didn’t feel like his hands—they feel almost smaller as they tremble in the darkness.

There is something wrong about the room he’s in, and he blinks a couple of times to adjust to the darkness. When he doesn’t see his vast collection of exotic fans adorning the walls on the far left nor his circular window placed beside his bed, Huaisang is forced to come to the obvious conclusion that he is not in his room in Qinghe. 

Though, he admits, the room is distantly familiar. With dark hardwood floors, pale white walls, and lack of furniture other than a writing desk in the corner and a small table beside his bed, there is only one place such a bland room could exist in. 

The Cloud Recesses.

He brings his legs close to his chest and curls hopelessly into himself.

“What a headshaker indeed, Nie Huaisang. Can’t even die properly…” He mumbles into his knees.

The nauseous coil of warmth simmers to a boil in his stomach, but he pays it no mind. 

The sound of shattering ceramic outside his window jolts Huaisang from his crumpled position in bed. 

There are muffled thumps above him, the sound of someone running and hopping across the rooftops. Who would dare do such a thing in a place as rule-abiding as the Cloud Recesses? 

…that is a rhetorical statement. 

Everyone knows there is only one such person shameless enough to do so past curfew. 

His thoughts finally deduce what had happened. It is no wonder his plans had gone south, or why he’s waking up in the Cloud Recesses. That man just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could he? 

It all led to the final scenario, one that had the highest probability between the three. 

3) Wei fucking Wuxian.  

If there was one person who could bring back the dead, wouldn’t it be the grandmaster himself? 

Because, of course it was. 

Everything always led back to Wei Wuxian.

Anger would be much too kind to explain his current feeling. 

His hands are clenched into fists on his lap, crumpling the silk of his robes. They are going to leave wrinkles with how tightly he is clenching his fingers, and, in a different life, he would have mewled at ruining such high quality fabrics so carelessly. 

But he could hardly bring himself to care about such menial matters.  

How dare Wei Wuxian, with his infuriating sense of justice, rob Huaisang of his own damn choice? Returning him to this wretched nightmare is not a decision Wei Wuxian is entitled to make.  

Outside, the tell-tale cackle of Wei Wuxian echoes in his ears as if mocking him.  

Without another word, Huaisang swings his legs off his bed and storms outside in a blind rage. 

He stomps down the path, scanning the rooftops, and immediately spots two shadowy figures clashing against each other on the building across. He could just barely make out the twirl of white and red ribbons in the moonlight.

What were they doing up there? Lookout duty? Sparring? Flirting?  

Huaisang had enough dog food when it came to the shameless Yiling Laozu and the ever-indulgent Hanguang-jun. 

“Wei Wuxian!” He shouts, causing one of the dark shadows on the roof with a red ribbon to halt in his steps.

But, due to the motion of his abrupt pause, the person’s momentum causes the heel of their boot to slip against the roofing panels, pitching sideways off the roof. If it weren’t for the second person trailing behind them and grasping onto the back collar of his robes, Wei Wuxian would have tumbled right off. 

The white silhouette jumps down, silent and graceful as always in his steps, with a whining Wei Wuxian still in hand and tosses said man down onto the ground without any semblance of care. There is a sharp swish of metal being drawn from a scabbard as Bichen’s pointed edge shone under the moonlight against the apple of Wei Wuxian’s throat. 

Something about this interaction should have tipped him off, but they’ve done crazier things in broad daylight that a little rough-house play at night is hardly a surprise to him anymore. 

Lan Wangji turns his gaze over to him. 

“It is past curfew.” Lan Wangji says sternly. 

There is something strange about him that Huaisang can’t quite put his finger on. 

In the past year since his reveal at Guanyin Temple, he had grown used to Lan Wangji’s silent hostility toward him. And, once upon a time, they might have been considered friends of some sorts. 

But when you gamble with the lives of innocent disciples and traumatize his beloved older brother into seclusion, needless to say, any love that was spared between them would quickly vanish. 

So, Huaisang finds himself taken aback at the odd gentleness in which Lan Wangji is directing toward him. 

‘Pity,’ Huaisang reasons in his head, ‘that’s what this is. He pities me.’

What he had done tonight must have been unthinkable in the eyes of the Lan. It was the only thing that made sense as to why Lan Wangji would look at him like that, after all he’s done.  

The inexplicable anger returns. 

He outright scoffs at Lan Wangji’s hypocrisy. “I’m out here because of all the racket you both are causing. Here you two are, breaking curfew to have a pretend lover’s quarrel in the night.” Huaisang states, fingers twitching to unfurl a fan that isn’t there. 

He swallows down the feeling of naked vulnerability without one. 

The person still splayed out pathetically on the ground makes a cacophony of stammers at the accusation. 

“A lover’s—Nie-xiong! That’s not at all what’s happening here!” The person, Wei Wuxian, says. It is too dark to see his expression, but Wei Wuxian’s response comes across as more offended than amused. “This fuddy-duddy here wouldn’t let me sneak in the jars of Emperor’s Smile I bought in town, even though I generously offered him a sip!”

Huaisang rolls his eyes. As if he hadn’t been aware that Lan Wangji had been stashing jars of Emperor’s Smile inside the floorboards for years. There is no way Wei Wuxian had gone through all two hundred of them since moving into the Cloud Recesses. 

“Well, if you and your husband could flirt somewhere else, preferably where no eyes can see you, instead of butting into my business, we can all end this night peacefully.”

“...husband!??” Wei Wuxian shrieks, horrified. 

“...shameless.” Lan Wangji mumbles under his breath. 

Huaisang glares at the two. 

Must they continue with this farce? 

“Enough of that. I demand you call forth my disciples to bring me home, so that I can wallow in my misery alone.”

The two stare at him, confusion etched onto their faces. Wei Wuxian quirks an eyebrow, analyzing him from head to toe. Lan Wangji, on the surface, has a face of still waters, but there is a concerned frown adorning his lips.  

Wei Wuxian is the first to break the sudden silence. 

“Nie-xiong, are you still half-asleep? No matter how much you whine, we still have to go to the lectures tomorrow.” 

Lectures? 

Huaisang is about to criticize Wei Wuxian once again when he feels it.

It’s that same feeling from before. That slow, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, skin itching with unease, as a thunderous alarm goes off in his head. Shouting at him that something is off about this whole situation.

In the years of fabricating the reputation of a Headshaker, he had developed a keen sense towards his surroundings whilst under the factitious facade of the incapable and clumsy fool. It allowed him to gain as much intel through observation while maintaining civil pleasantries with his fellow cultivators. They were none the wiser, either too busy scrambling over his feigned incompetence or bewitchingly charmed by a pretty face. 

But he had learned to trust his intuition—he wouldn’t have gotten this far without it. And his intuition is telling him to look closer and listen intently, taunting him for not having already figured it all out. 

In his mind, Nie Huaisang recounts every word, every expression, every action from the moment he awoke in that empty room to this very moment. He makes an imperceptible scan with his eyes at his surroundings.

…aren’t those buildings on the far right just slightly misaligned? 

There is no real indication of it since it was too dark to tell, but Huaisang realizes the path he had been walking on should have stopped short a few feet behind him and split off into two diverging walkways: one toward the classrooms and one toward the front gates.

Such an obscure detail would have flown over anyone else’s head, but not Nie Huaisang’s. 

No, Huaisang knew that this walkway hadn’t been a singular path since before the war—

He freezes.

Something is different—no.

Something is terribly wrong. 

“Nie Huaisang,” Lan Wangji’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. His breathing grows uneven as he plays back this voice and the voice he remembers in his memory. 

‘Too young,’ Huaisang realizes much too late.

“Nie-xiong, what’s wrong?” Wei Wuxian asks, reaching out his hand to him. 

Voices were very telling.

There is so much you could learn about a situation just by the tone of voice alone. A clear accent, a baritone cadence, a seductive lilt—in those alone, Huaisang would be able to identify and assess a person’s origin, personality, and intent. It was why Huaisang instantly knew the difference between Mo Xuanyu and the newly-resurrected Wei Wuxian. Mo Xuanyu’s voice had a more feminine intonation with a manic meekness to it, but it couldn’t conceal Wei Wuxian’s audacious timbre and boisterous ego spilling through with each phrase. 

And yet, when Wei Wuxian spoke to him just now, didn’t it sound a little too much like Wei Wuxian?

He doesn’t notice his feet moving until he stumbles backwards. 

The clouds overhead have begun to drift away as moonlight settles over them, and Nie Huaisang is finally able to catch a glimpse of the man on the ground.  

Or rather, the boy who hasn’t been alive for the past fourteen years. 

And thus brings him to the surprise fourth scenario. One that is nearly impossible to predict but isn't completely outside the realm of possibility.

A bend in the universe, an otherworldly occurrence, a magical force showing its hand beyond their understanding.

Time travel falls into such a category.    

The world begins to spin as this revelation rocks him to his core. Huaisang was correct in assuming he had woken back into a nightmare. Reality and the consequence of his own actions should have been the worst case scenario. 

But this? 

This was much, much worse. 

That feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach turns into a burning sensation that spreads like wildfire across his entire body. 

Huaisang hadn’t recognized the fracture of it, the low hum of energy crackling beneath his skin. 

Someone is screaming—it leaves a high-pitched ringing in his ears before morphing into a distressed cry of anguish that sweeps into the silent night. 

It is only until he feels the raw pain of his vocal cords straining together that Huaisang realizes it is him who is screaming. 

The last thing he sees is a burst of light as the world explodes into chaos all around him.

Chapter Text

There is a voice in his head that he doesn’t quite recognize. 

It is indistinguishable. He can’t tell if it’s a woman or a man. Young or old. A friendly greeting or an ominous warning. 

The words just simply…appear in his brain. 

Communicating like an echo.    

wake little one, it whispers. A voice like a lullaby.

it’s time

wake 

wake

wa—

Nie Huaisang gasps awake. 

The world around him comes into focus in a flood of monochrome colors. There is a dulling ache in his lower abdomen as he blinks away the spots in his vision. 

A white ceiling, minimal furniture, bare walls…

Right. He is at the Cloud Recesses. 

He inhales sharply, and, in doing so, sparks a vicious coughing fit. 

He couldn't seem to breathe. 

Curling into his side, he coughs his lungs into his hands. Despite such small movements, this alone is a struggle to do; Huaisang could barely feel his arms.

There is movement that catches the corner of his eyes.   

“A-Sang, are you able to sit up? I’ll give you water,” a warm voice says beside him. He isn’t able to fully process the voice as the coughing seems to worsen with every breath he tries to take. 

He is guided up into a sitting position and handed a glass of water. He takes a couple of sips, swallowing down the remaining coughs bubbling up his throat. 

Eventually, he drains all the water in glass, and the glass is taken from his hands. Huaisang keeps his head bowed, eyes shut, and grasps at any air he can get into his lap. 

“That’s it, deep breaths…” The person says, raising a hand to reach out to him, but Huaisang swats it away before it has the chance to land on him. 

He glares at the man. 

“Must you mock me?” He growls pettily to the person beside him. 

The person pulls his hand back. “Pardon?”

“What are you even doing out of seclusion? Come to gloat? I doubt you’re here to finish the job yourself. You’re too soft-hearted for that,” Huaisang continues, eyeing the man with a cold, calculated look. “Or let me guess…you’ve come to save me? Please. Don’t make me laugh.”

The person shakes his head slowly, the furrow in his brow ladled with confusion. 

“A-Sang, I cannot make any sense of what you’re saying. How about you lay back down? You’re going to work yourself up again—”   

“Lan Xichen,” Huaisang spits out, each syllable of this bastard’s name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “Quit it with your candied words; I’ve already allowed so much these past few years. Is your heart really so empty that you must always need someone to fill it—”

“Huaisang!” 

His breath hitches in his throat, and the words die on his tongue.  

That voice…it couldn’t be…

He knows that voice. 

Huiasang has been fooled by dreams before. Dreams that were so real he’d almost convinced himself that it was reality. What’s next? Is Jiang Wanyin going to walk in right behind him with another wedding proposal for him to reject? 

What more cruelty can his brain come up with? 

He closes his eyes, dropping his face into his hands. He curls into himself as if to protect himself from the nightmare. 

“Baxia,” Huaisang calls out, voice cracking and bordering the thin line of his sanity. “Baxia. Please, Baxia—when will the dreams end?” 

He’ll open his eyes to the darkwood ceiling of his room at the Unclean Realm. Baxia would be leaning against his bed frame, clamoring in its sheath, comforting him. To another day of purposeless static that had become his life. 

Except…he doesn’t. 

When he opens his eyes again, he is still at the Cloud Recesses. 

Baxia is silent and noticeably missing from his side. 

Instead, it is Lan Xichen at his side, his pale hands hovering by as if worried that Huaisang is going to collapse any second. 

The heavy footsteps grow closer to him, and Huaisang holds his breath. 

Refusing to face the illusion’s direction. 

“Didi? What’s wrong?” The voice is now at his bedside, and it is homely and nostalgic and familiar, so familiar. Close enough for Huaisang to feel the heat radiating from the man’s body. 

He flinches as a hand reaches out and places itself on top of his. 

And, oh. 

To recognize a person by touch alone, it's almost ridiculous.

The last time he had held this hand, it was attached to a severed arm, frigid with rigor mortis and gray with decay, vibrating with resentful energy. 

Rough calluses at the fingertips from rigorous training and countless battles. Across the palm is the jaggedness of a childhood scar from when a younger Nie Huaisang had been too afraid to climb down a tree by himself and had to be saved by his trusty older brother. 

How could he possibly mistake it for anyone else’s? 

Noticeably, something tickles against his fingers. 

A subtle rhythm. 

Ba-dump. 

Ba-dump. 

Ba-dump. 

A pulse. 

And Huaisang finally finds the courage to look up. 

A set of fierce eyes that matches their father’s. A cemented wrinkle between his dark brows, thin lips scowling with worry. His black hair is half-up in an unkempt ponytail, braids roughly put together.  

“Didi?” The man with his brother’s face repeats, face screwed in worry the longer he doesn’t answer him. 

Huaisang doesn’t know how long he'd been holding his breath. 

It could have only been a few seconds, but, if Huaisang is being honest, it had been years since he had been able to breathe so freely. 

Twelve long years of secrets, murder, and deception.

Not once did Huaisang have a moment to just breathe. 

Even after it was all over, that heavy feeling stayed with him and never had been able to settle.   

Now, for the first time in thirteen years, his first breath is a keen whimper. 

All his strength leaves him, and Huaisang falls forward into the ready embrace of his brother’s arms. 

Those nostalgic hands massage through the loose strands of his hair. A habit that his brother used to do for him in times of overwhelming stress. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Nie Mingjue asks him, his words just above a whisper. 

He rubs his cheek against his brother’s shoulder, taking in the familiar scent, not of rotting flesh or mildew, but of saber metal and soil after a summer’s rain with the faintest sweetness of hawthorn blossoms. 

Mother’s tree must be in bloom. 

Nie Huaisang suddenly longs to see it. 

The tears comes then. Quietly and unseen as he weeps onto his brother’s chest. 

Contrary to popular belief, Huaisang had always been a silent crier. It was easy to fake some exaggerated tears to get his way; he’d practically turned it into a craft over the next few years. 

But anyone that truly knew him would know that real sadness for Nie Huaisang was pure silence.

Nies, after all, weren’t criers.

Mingjue’s hold on him tightens.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Mingjue asks, tone growing increasingly alarmed. He feels his brother’s body turn as his attention shifts over to the man beside him. “Xichen?” 

“A-Jue, I don’t know. He just woke up and started saying things that didn’t make any sense.” Lan Xichen explains. 

In truth, nothing is making sense in Nie Huaisang’s mind. 

But he is too busy counting the steady beat of his brother’s heart against his ear. 

One…two…three…

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

It is the most beautiful song he had ever heard. 

“Maybe it’s still remnants of the qi-deviation messing with his head.” Mingjue continues to stroke Huaisang’s hair, pulling him closer to cradle him more properly. “Should we call the healers? Or can we get Wangji to play Cleansing for him?”  

Qi-deviation? 

Him? 

As if triggering the memories, the events all come flooding back to him. 

Waking up in the student dorms. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji chasing each other across the rooftops after curfew. A burst of light. Then nothing. 

So he qi-deviated. 

But why? 

Huaisang had never properly used his saber, much less bonded with one. 

Unless you count Baxia, but Huaisang and Baxia had always been separate entities from each other. 

Interesting. This is definitely something he must inquire about at a later time…

One thing is for certain, though. 

Nie Huaisang had somehow landed in the past.  

Huaisang feels his face being pulled away as his brother lays him back in bed. There is a handkerchief in Mingjue’s hand, probably given to him by Lan Xichen as Huaisang had never known his brother to carry a handkerchief on him. He gently dabs away the stray tears left on his face. 

“If you’re still tired, didi, just go back to sleep.” Mingjue says. 

Huaisang shakes his head, nuzzling his cheek against the handkerchief. 

“But if I sleep, the dream will be over…” 

Mingjue sighs. 

“He’s delirious, A-Huan.” He says to Lan Xichen, returning the handkerchief back to its rightful owner. Huaisang forces himself to push back the disdain as Lan Xichen presses a hand against his forehead. 

“He doesn’t seem to have a fever anymore…” Lan Xichen says thoughtfully before reaching for his wrist. 

Huaisang jerks his hand away, not wanting Lan Xichen to touch him any more than he already has. 

It is hard to let go of his visceral resentment toward the man. After all, it was because of this man that all his careful planning almost went to ruin. That Jin Guangyao nearly got away with a slap on the wrist.

That, five years from now, his brother might be dead. 

“I’m fine.” He says firmly, holding his wrist against his chest.

The expression on the Lan’s face falters. Huaisang feels a bit of gratification at that. 

Before Lan Xichen can comment on his behavior, the door opened once again. 

Lan Wangji strolls inside, face as stoic and cold as a snow storm. There is a guqin strapped onto his back, which only made Lan Wangji look even more noticeably smaller, all lankier limbs and a shorter stature. The muscular bulk of the future Hanguang-jun would fill in over time—eighteen years is enough time for a person to change from a boy to a man after all.

However, through all the nostalgia, a wave of shame washes over Huaisang. 

Not many knew this, but the two had grown up together. Of course, Huaisang had always been a lot closer to kind Lan Xichen than the unsociable Lan Wangji.

But the two younger siblings had an unspoken acquaintanceship. 

They weren’t the best of friends, but they settled into the gray area of toleration. Practically brother-in-laws in a sense, with how close their brothers would become over the years, which would bloom into familial fondness toward one another.

The last time Huaisang had seen the man, back in his timeline, they had not parted on good terms.

Huaisang could still hear the remnants of their last argument in his head.

“What would you have done?!” Huaisang spat, glaring at Lan Wangji across the tea table. “Had that been your uncle or Lan Xichen—hell, even Wei Wuxian—whose body had been torn apart and scattered by a man you had trusted. Are you telling me you would not have done the same?”

“Not at the expense of others,” Lan Wangji answered. 

Huaisang shook his head, laughing bitterly. 

“This world does not play by Lan rules, Lan Wangji.” He said through gritted teeth. “It is because of that naivety that you lost Wei Wuxian the first time around.”   

Even as he said those words, Huaisang knew it was a low blow. 

But words had always been his favorite weapon, and he wasn’t below playing dirty to win.   

Despite there not being any changes on the man’s face, the hurt was evident in the Lan’s eyes. The man sat back in his seat, eyes cast to the side and away from Huaisang as if the very sight of him burned to look at. 

When he turned back to face him, Lan Wangji’s gaze had hardened. 

The walls he hadn’t seen in a long time had built up once again.

Shutting him out completely. 

“Get out.” 

Those had been Lan Wangji’s last words to him. Nie Huaisang’s passing had been that very same night. 

A small, selfish part of Huaisang wondered if the Lan Wangji of his time mourned him. 

Mingjue makes a move to step aside for Lan Wangji, but Huaisang frantically grabs onto his brother’s sleeve, nearly toppling out of bed in his rush. The suddenness of his own actions leaves him dizzy. 

“Don’t go,” he pleads, clinging onto his brother’s sleeve. 

Mingjue frowns, seemingly confused at his behavior. “Huaisang, I’m not going anywhere. Wangji is going to check your meridians.” 

Huaisang’s lip wobbles as he tries to keep the sob at bay, the fabric of his brother’s sleeve clenched so tightly beneath his fingers. 

He couldn’t let go. 

Not yet. 

This situation still didn’t feel real. 

What if hallucinations were just after-effects of the poison he drank? 

But his brother is giving him one of those stern scolding looks, so Huaisang has no choice but to let go. 

He may as well play this out to the end, hallucination or not. It might give him a chance to find out more about where his state of being is within this timeline. 

Huaisang gives his wrist over to Lan Wangji, glancing over at Mingjue every so often just to make sure he is still in his line of vision. Lan Wangji lifts two fingers up in concentration as his wrist begins to glow. 

Several seconds go by before Lan Wangji puts his arm down, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He shares a silent look with Mingjue and Xichen, giving a short shake of his head as a silent response. 

“It is still the same,” Lan Wangji states briskly. 

“Maybe we should give it more time. Surely, it has also been affected by the deviation.” Lan Xichen chimes in. 

Huaisang tilts his head curiously. What are they talking about now?

Mingjue scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think it’s permanent? Frankly, I don’t see much of a problem with this outcome. Maybe he’ll finally pick up a saber.”

That statement leaves Huaisang even more confused. 

He twiddles his fingers nervously, slipping easily into his mask of the Headshaker just in case. “W-what’s w-wrong?” He stammers out. 

Mingjue gives Xichen and Wangji another look before sighing, nodding his head over to Lan Wangji. 

Lan Wangji answers calmly, “It’s your golden core.” 

His golden core? 

Did the qi deviation render him officially coreless now? 

“Did something happen to it?” He asks since it seems Lan Wangji isn’t planning to offer any further explanation than that. 

“...it’s different now,” Lan Wangji says. 

“Different? How so? I don’t feel any different.” Huaisang says, making a show of looking at himself, lifting his arms and moving around. The movement makes him nauseous, so he stops, placing a hand against his forehead. “Maybe a little tired, but I’m okay.”  

“Your core…is stronger.” Lan Wangji explains slowly. “Although, not in terms of power.”

“I’m not sure I follow…” Huaisang says. 

“It is not an abnormal amount compared to mine or your brother’s,” Lan Xichen explains, taking over for Lan Wangji. “But yours…had always been a weaker core. Its energy should be depleted after last night, but it’s…not. We are unsure of the reason why.”

Huaisang presses his lips together, exaggerating the nervousness on his face, so that he can reach inside and assess the core himself. 

It is definitely in a weaker state, but Lan Wangji is also correct in that there is an underlying power that feels stronger than it should have been.

Strong but not unfamiliar. 

At this age, he remembers not even being strong enough to conjure a light or use a flame talisman.

Thirty-six year old Nie Huaisang, however, is a different story. 

Sure, he is no Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji or Jiang Wanyin (despite how much the latter refuses to believe so). 

But what people seemed to misunderstand was that a weak core didn’t equal being coreless. The difference may seem miniscule, but there still was a difference nonetheless. 

His core was weak, there was no denying that, but it was still a golden core. 

If cultivators weren’t so proud, wearing their golden cores as trophies of their worth, it should have been suspicious from the get-go that a person with a formed golden core had one as nonexistent as his, let alone one that hadn’t shown even a glimmer of improvement over the years. 

People saw what they wanted to see, believed in whatever fit their narrative. It probably didn’t help that Nie Huaisang preferred it that way.

Although it took many years of careful study and meditation, he had been able to diminish the golden core’s signature from his person, keeping it weak and undetectable so that he could be overlooked within a crowd. People were always quick to lower their guard if they knew you would never be a threat to begin with. Not to mention, the free sword rides from cultivators. 

It wasn’t that he was suddenly stronger, but that his golden core matched his older core than his younger one. 

His face twitches at the revelation, but Huaisang forces down the rest of his outward shock. 

How was this possible? 

Could it be that this was the trigger for his qi deviation? Because his past self hadn’t been able to nurture a stronger golden core, he had accidentally gone into a full qi deviation in order to adjust to its power? 

It was the most probable solution. 

Obviously, Huaisang could only keep this theory to himself. “Well, like I said, I feel fine. Maybe it’s like…an exercise thing? Like, you know how muscles get stronger the more you use it?” Huaisang offers up as an excuse. 

The three don't seem entirely convinced with that explanation, but the conversation seems to end there.

“We will monitor you for now,” Lan Wangji decides, looking over to Mingjue for his approval. 

Mingjue nods his head in agreement. “If it isn’t a bother, would you mind playing Cleansing for Huaisang, Lan-gongzi? Xichen and I have to go discuss with—” 

Luckily for Lan Wangji’s quick reflexes, the Lan manages to stretch out an arm in time to stop a flailing Nie Huaisang attempting to get out of bed. 

“W-where are you going?” Huaisang asks, heart rapidly thudding in his chest.  

“We plan to speak with Uncle about your health.” Lan Xichen answers gently. 

“So you go, and Da-ge stay here.” He retorts firmly without thought. Lan Xichen recoils from the sudden hostility, and Mingjue steps in front of him as if to shield him from Huaisang. 

“Huaisang, what has gotten into you?” Mingjue says, marching over to the other side of the bed and prodding him back into place. Huaisang inhales sharply before breathing out in a more calming manner.

He shouldn’t be overreacting like this. 

Seeing his brother alive had him acting irrationally; he needs to go about this situation carefully. 

What good would it do villainizing Lan Xichen so early in the game? His actions are beginning to look suspicious, and rightfully so. The Nie Huaisang of this time loved being doted on so preciously by their Er-ge.

He needs to calm down and just play along for now until he figures this all out. This Lan Xichen hadn’t betrayed him…

Not yet, at least.

“Do you really have to go, Da-ge?” Huaisang couldn’t help but ask. Mingjue puts a hand on his cheek, massaging the worry lines at the corners of his eyes with his thumb.

“Didi, it’ll only be a few minutes. I need to discuss with him about your well-being and what we should do moving forward.” Mingjue reassures him. 

The thought of Mingjue being gone for even just a few minutes brings tears to his eyes again, but he swallows them down for his brother’s sake. 

“But I missed you…” Huaisang says quietly. 

Mingjue barks out an amused laugh. “It’s only been three days since you set out for Gusu. You couldn’t possibly have missed my nagging just yet.”

Three days. 

Indeed, that is a short amount of time, especially in Mingjue’s eyes.

But, for Huaisang, it had been thirteen years. 

He hopes to savor every moment until the rug is inevitably pulled from under him. 

Before he can say anything more, there is a sudden commotion outside his room. 

“What are you doing here?” He hears someone say from outside the room.

It is a voice that couldn't be mistaken for anyone other than Wei Wuxian.

“Do I need your permission to visit patients now, Wei Wuxian?” Another person quips back, too muffled to distinguish from behind the door. 

Huaisang can’t put his finger on who this other voice belonged to. This voice is deeper, more authoritative in tone. Jiang Wanyin perhaps? But, for some reason, that didn’t seem like the right guess. 

“Wei Ying, stop. He’s allowed to do whatever he pleases with his time.” 

No. That was Jiang Wanyin. Younger than he remembers, but still gruff with a sharp inflection.

So who is the third person? 

He’s forgetting something important. 

The door opens. 

Jiang Wanyin steps inside first, quickly moving to bow in greeting when he sees Mingjue and Lan Xichen in the room. Wei Wuxian follows behind, his bow less mechanical than Jiang Wanyin’s but more theatrical, especially when he sees Lan Wangji. He is already wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, grinning at the prospect of another amusing time with said Lan. Jiang Wanyin gives his brother a warning look. 

Huaisang glances at Lan Wangji in time to see his frigid scowl twitch at the corner in annoyance.

He is about to greet the two when he finally catches sight of the third boy behind them. 

Golden robes, an unmatched arrogance, and a vermillion dot adorning the center of his forehead. 

In the future, Huaisang would associate these features with a younger boy, who is a carbon copy of the boy in front of him but with his mother’s kind eyes.  

But this is the past, and Jin Rulan would not be born for another few years. 

Of all the things he could forget, Nie Huaisang fails to remember one other key player to his future’s tragedy. 

Jin Zixuan.

Chapter Text

“J-Jin Zixuan…” Nie Huaisang says softly, swallowing the need to cry once more. He can feel the blood drain from his face, his heart thudding rapidly in his ears. 

“Look at what you did, peacock. Your face scared him shitless.” Wei Wuxian says with a snort, sending a pointed glare Jin Zixuan’s way.

“Swearing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.” Lan Wangji is quick to reprimand, taking a step forward as if to act as a shield for Huaisang. 

It feels weird to be on the other side of Lan Wangji’s care once again. He hadn’t felt like Lan Wangji was on his side for a very long time. Before Wei Wuxian had inevitably become Lan Wangji’s whole world.

Jiang Wanyin frowns beside him, elbowing Wei Wuxian in the arm. 

“Behave, Wei Ying.” Jiang Wanyin mutters hastily. 

“I am on my best behavior!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, rubbing his arm from where Jiang Wanyin elbowed him. “I haven’t even punched him yet—you should be praising me!” He says, tapping his thumb against his chest as if to prove his point. 

“As if your ego needs more inflating for simple common decency,” Jin Zixuan scoffs, rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest as the two rivals lock in a glaring competition. 

“Violence is also forbidden.” Lan Wangji states. 

“Well, it seems your friends here can keep you company,” Nie Mingjue interrupts before another verbal argument could occur. 

In his shock, Huaisang had let go of his arm, and his brother had used that chance to move out of reach. Lan Xichen is immediately glued to his side, their arms brushing so closely that you would almost think they were magnetized together. 

“Da-ge—” Huaisang starts to call out, but stops himself. He glances over at Zixuan and then his brother and then back again, looping twice over, conflicted at which situation he should tackle first. 

Unfortunately, his brother is unaware of his inner plight and makes the decision for him. 

“Didi, we need to discuss with Lan Qiren on how to proceed with your situation. Then I’ll come back, and, hopefully, I can take you back to the Unclean Realm,” Mingjue promises as if to soothe his worries away from a distance. 

Lan Xichen nods in agreement at his side. 

“For now, just lay back and rest, A-Sang. We won’t be long.” He says. 

Huaisang sighs, resigning to fall back against his pillows. He catches his brother sharing a silent look with Lan Wangji, who, after a brief moment, nods reassuringly. 

Seemingly satisfied, his brother and Lan Xichen bow to the other occupants of the room before making their exit. 

Once the door quietly shuts behind them, Huaisang faces the four boys in the room. 

Four youthful faces, unblemished by war, death, or heartbreak. It was nostalgic to see such faces, almost painful to look at without being haunted by what they would become. 

Years from now, Nie Huaisang would say goodbye to Jin Zixuan, eyes closed in eternal sleep, the vermillion dot on his head burning bright against ghastly skin. 

Years from now, Nie Huaisang would watch as Lan Wangji drowned himself in mourning, yearning for the love of his life until he was once again reunited with his beloved after thirteen years of waiting. 

Years from now, Nie Huaisang would hear about Wei Wuxian’s evil deeds and the deaths of the Wens in Yiling from crowds of gossiping cultivators before seeing him again at the Nie’s Ancestral Hall, donning the face of Mo Xuanyu just as he had planned. 

Years from now, Nie Huaisang would spend his days with Jiang Wanyin, loving him so deeply but inevitably breaking his heart. His beautiful but broken A-Cheng, the revered Sect Leader he had always strived to become, bearing the crown of his family’s spilled blood, a brother’s betrayal, and the responsibilities of raising an orphaned newborn.

These four boys were mere shadows of the men they would become. Huaisang could almost convince himself that the future is the dream, and this present is true reality.

He forces a weak smile, suddenly feeling the years heavy in his own youthful body. 

“Well, now, don’t be shy for my sake. Why don’t we all…catch up?”

His first meeting with Jin Zixuan had not been very memorable. 

Huaisang can’t remember the exact details, whether it had happened at a Discussion Conference or a simple visit to Carp Tower. 

What he does remember is being shoved in a room, told to play nice by his older brother and not get into trouble by his father. 

He remembers bothering a boy in gold with a red vermillion mark on his forehead sitting at the corner of the room. He remembers babbling something about birds or maybe it was flowers—something along those lines. 

Followed by being yelled at by said boy in gold for talking too much. 

He remembers laughing. Laughing because the boy in gold scolded him just like his brother always did. He had always found it endearing. Nies weren’t known for their kindness after all. 

Since that day, Huaisang had made it his mission to be liked by the very unlikable Jin Zixuan. A challenge he thought would be fun to unpuzzle. 

It took a few years. Plenty of embarrassing attempts here and there that Huaisang would rather not recall, but, eventually, Jin Zixuan did warm up to him. 

He’d invite Huaisang over for tea at Carp Tower without any prompting on Huaisang’s end. They would go out to the markets every month and browse through exotic fabrics and artistic trinkets. Jin Zixuan also went to him for advice in writing Wei Wuxian’s invitation to Jin Rulan’s one-month celebration. 

And even before that final tragedy, Jin Zixuan had been at Qinghe, a walking bundle of nerves because he wanted to “impress A-Li by being civil enough to not punch Wei Wuxian in the mouth”. 

Huaisang had laughed then too, teasing his friend for being so in love with his wife. Jin Zixuan had turned so red that the vermillion dot on his forehead almost disappeared on his skin. He didn't deny the comment, but the fondness in his eyes was clear.  

That’s when a Jin disciple rushed into the room, still taking the time to bow over to Huaisang in greeting despite their haggardness from rushing over before whispering urgently into Jin Zixuan’s ear. Huaisang couldn’t completely hear what was being relayed, only catching “Qiongqi” and “Zixun” and “ambush” through the hushed whispers. 

Jin Zixuan shot up to his feet, bowing respectfully at Huaisang before hurrying out of the room, the disciple sharp on his tail. Huaisang had been curious and, on any other day, would have inquired to know more just ease his nosiness, but the look in Jin Zixuan’s face made him think 

Looking back on it now, Huaisang should have let curiosity win.  

Instead, Huaisang went about his day. There was a gift he had been preparing—a portrait for the new family: Jin Zixuan & Jiang Yanli, eyes full of only one another as they cradled baby Jin Rulan in a golden blanket. 

He remembered hoping to make Jin Zixuan cry when he gave it to him and tease him for his tears. He remembered imagining Jiang Yanli taking his hands in hers and kissing his cheeks in gratitude. He remembered wanting to hold Jin Rulan in his arms for the very first time, murmuring against his forehead that he was so loved and that he would protect him forever. 

Huaisang never got the chance to do any of these things. 

Losing Jin Zixuan had been devastating. 

It had not killed him. No, not as much as his brother’s death had. 

But it was close. 

He had been too young when his mother had passed, too detached from his father to actually feel the sting of grief. And he wouldn’t feel the sting of his brother’s death until a few years after this memory. 

But Jin Zixuan had been the first brother he would bury. 

And you never quite forget your first. 

Seeing the ghosts that have haunted him for years have a pulse and be close enough to touch, Huaisang wonders if the gods have taken pity on Nie Huaisang’s soul. Or maybe they planned to enjoy one last laugh at his expense.  

Either way, he can’t imagine caring at this point. 

Because Jin Zixuan is alive. 

His brother is alive.  

Hope has never burned so brightly. 

“Why are you still by the door, Xuan-xiong? Come over, I won’t bite!” He says, the nickname feeling like sand on his tongue from how long it had been since he last called out to him. 

But then Huaisang laughs. 

Because how wonderful it is to be able to call out to him again after all these years. 

Jin Zixuan lingers by the door for a beat, looking doubtful. But after some more encouraging waving from Huaisang, he obediently makes his way to his side. 

As soon as he is close enough, Huaisang clasps onto his wrist and pulls him forward. “Let me just get a good look at you first.” Huaisang says. He leans in close, tilting his head back and forth in order to inspect every inch of the boy’s face. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Jin Zixuan asks, looking a bit uncomfortable.  

“I’m just…” Huaisang trails off, still staring at the boy’s face. The stare must have gone on for too long because Jin Zixuan clears his throat as if to remind him to finish his thought.

Huaisang lets go of Jin Zixuan’s wrist, smiling apologetically. 

“I…thought I was never going to see you again…” He says, truthfully.

Jin Zixuan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I just saw you last week for tea.”

He hums at his words. “Last week, huh…” 

Last week had been a lifetime ago. 

Huaisang sits back and relaxes against the headboard of the bed. In his daze, Jiang Wanyin had dragged over two spare chairs and placed them beside his bed. 

He indulges in a moment to just look at them. 

These four people who have changed his entire world. He took in their faces—youthful, guiltless, and naive. Unaware of the trials and bloodshed that awaited them in the next few years. 

Huaisang vows right, then, that there will be peace. 

He will make sure of it. 

“Are you still unwell?” Jiang Wanyin asks. His voice is gruff but sincere, the tinge of worry just hovering under the surface. “We can come back another day if you would like to rest a little more.” 

It is rather odd to see them in the white Lan robes again (well, moreso Jiang Wanyin and Jin Zixuan—on more than one occasion he had definitely spotted Wei Wuxian in his husband’s outer robe before). 

There had always been stark differences between the two brothers, who shared everything but the blood in their veins. Even the way they sat is contrastingly different: Wei Wuxian is always far too relaxed, knees splayed apart as he slumps back languidly. Jiang Wanyin, on the other hand, keeps an upright posture with his hands folded neatly in his lap. 

“No, I’m…fine. I was just thinking…aren’t you all supposed to be attending the lectures?” He asks, sneakily changing the subject. 

He glances out the window beside his bed. 

Judging by how high the sun was in the sky, it had to be either mid-morning or nearing noon.

“Yes, we should,” Jiang Wanyin says through gritted teeth, sending a pointed glare at Wei Wuxian. 

Wei Wuxian starts whistling innocently and pretends not to notice. Lan Wangji also glances in Wei Wuxian’s direction, eyes thunderous. Jin Zixuan simply rolls his eyes.

Huaisang tilts his head curiously. “Did something happen?”  

He tries to recall these beginning days at the Cloud Recesses, but they had been so monotonous to Huaisang that he is drawing a blank at what originally happened. He remembers the Water-bourne Abyss incident, but other than that…is there something important he was forgetting?

Surprisingly, it was Jin Zixuan who answered. 

“These two idiots got themselves kicked out of class.” Jin Zixuan says, gesturing with his thumb over at Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin.

In turn, the two both glare daggers at the Jin. Jin Zixuan stares right back unashamed, not looking the least bit remorseful at his choice of words. 

Nie Huaisang freezes. 

“...both of you?” Huaisang processes slowly, turning to the Jiang duo. 

He remembers vaguely about Wei Wuxian being kicked out of class that first day. He also remembers holding Jiang Wanyin back multiple times whenever Wei Wuxian got up to his usual antics during lectures. Is it because Nie Huaisang hadn’t been able to attend, so no one could stop Jiang Wanyin from losing his temper? 

An insignificant detail, but a small moment in time had changed. 

Would there be lasting consequences? 

He didn’t know. 

Not knowing was dangerous. 

Wei Wuxian shrugs, grin ever wide. “It would have been just me had A-Cheng not lost his temper.”

“If I hadn’t intervened, your careless tongue would have gotten us sent back to Lotus Pier. Tell me, how could we face Shijie knowing that we were kicked out on the first day? Don’t even get me started on the wrath my mother will incur after hearing such news.” Jiang Wanyin says, crossing his arms over his chest, expression sour. 

“Do not jump to unfounded conclusions.” Lan Wangji states firmly. 

Jiang Wanyin glares at the Lan. From an outsider’s perspective, it was easy to see Lan Wangji’s approach as arrogant, throwing out Lan rules as if to mock others of their own shortcomings. But Huaisang knew that this was Lan Wangji’s kindness, showing his sentiments in the only way he knew how and simply out of habit. 

But then: 

“Wow! You hear that, A-Cheng? Lan Zhan is comforting you!”

Lan Wangji blinks. 

Wei Wuxian beams.  

Huaisang groans. 

Oh boy, it has begun.  

The surprise in Lan Wangji’s gaze eventually melts away to displeasure as he realizes the slip of his courtesy name, said so naturally from a total stranger. 

Before another disruption occurs, Huaisang speaks up, “And what, may I ask, did you say that would have called for a potential suspension?” 

Wei Wuxian sits up and leans forward. 

“Listen to this Nie-xiong! My intention wasn’t bad, the idea just needs a little more polishing.” He says, falling back into his seat as he starts gesticulating with his hands. “Hear me out, I just think we should be able to consider other viable resources that deviate from the standard! Is that so bad?” 

“You were speaking of dark magic.” Lan Wangji says. 

“Nie-xiong, you would have agreed with me if you came to lectures. There’s art in asking questions!” Wei Wuxian says, turning abruptly to him. 

“There’s also an art in silence, but that lesson seems to constantly fly over your head.” Jin Zixuan scoffs.   

“What did you ask?” Huaisang persists. 

There is a feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like the dangerous gleam in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, that volatile spark of being on the cusps of something worth figuring out. 

Something about this conversation makes Huaisang want to brace for its impact. 

Wei Wuxian is thrumming with excitement, leaning forward again as if to tell him a secret.  

“Don’t you think it would be interesting if we could somehow find a way to harness resentful energy as well?” 

His stomach sinks.

Nie Huaisang should have known this world still had a path to follow.

Chapter Text

Huaisang can only assume what the expression on his face must look like. 

Based on the four tense faces looking down at him, whatever it is must not be good.  

Jiang Wanyin pulls Wei Wuxian back by his arm, seemingly to give Huaisang some space. “Stop crowding him,” he says roughly. 

Wei Wuxian lets himself be pulled back. Lan Wangji hovers at a safe distance, and Jin Zixuan is now openly glaring at Wei Wuxian, all pretenses diminished. 

“Ah…no, it’s alright. I just suddenly felt light-headed...” Huaisang lies, making sure to add a nervous quiver in his voice. He waves off the two boys defensively at his side before addressing Wei Wuxian directly. 

“Wei-xiong, you certainly have such…radical ideas.” He says, forcing out a chuckle. “Lan-laoshi probably gave you a scolding…” 

Wei Wuxian throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s just a theory! I think the world is more fun when you question things!” 

Huaisang scratches his cheek, letting out a skittish chuckle. "Seems like I missed an interesting lecture…" He says.

Then, as if prompted, Lan Wangji pulls out a scroll from his sleeve and carefully places it on Nie Huaisang’s lap.

After giving him a questioning look, Lan Wangji simply answers with a short, “Lecture notes.”  

As expected of Lan Qiren’s favorite student.

Huaisang groans. “Wangji-xiong, have mercy on this poor soul. I’m still recovering.” He complains.

Lan Wangji’s face twitches before slowly reaching into his sleeves again. He hands Huaisang a rectangular case before dropping his hands back onto his lap. Huaisang raises an eyebrow and picks up whatever is placed onto his lap.

He unhooks the golden hatch and lifts the case. 

His eyes soften.

Inside is an array of tiny colorful vials lined up neatly together and a single paintbrush, its stem made of pure white jade. 

He remembers this set. Although, the context in which it was given had been quite different. He had received this from Lan Wangji, but it had been after they went into town and dealt with the Water-Bourne Abyss. He had dropped an exclusive paint set in the river and had mourned for it quite noisily to anyone who would listen. Lan Wangji bought him this one to replace it. 

Would even a paint set have catastrophic consequences? 

“Wangji-xiong, are you bribing me?” He asks, mimicking the same words he had said to him the first time around. 

Lan Wangji shakes his head, the tips of his ears tinting red. 

“A gift.” He says. 

Just as Nie Huaisang expected him to. 

Someone stifles a cackle beside him. 

Wei Wuxian watches on bemused at the interaction, eyeing the Lan with a pensive look. He cups a hand around his mouth, leaning over to Jiang Wanyin to loudly whisper, “Can you believe this, Jiang Cheng? Huaisang managed to get a bribe from a Lan!” 

Although the attempt was meant to be inconspicuous, it is ultimately all for naught because Wei Wuxian didn’t understand the concept of whispering. 

Jiang Wanyin elbows his brother, muttering a threatening “shut up!” under his breath. 

Huaisang puts the paint set away and unravels the scroll he had been given.

The end of the scroll drops onto his lap and continues to bounce onto the floor. 

The handwriting is, of course, the utmost perfect calligraphy. Though, it lacked in personality, unlike Huaisang’s own artsy cursive or Wei Wuxian’s chicken scratch.  

Huaisang clears his throat and recites: 

“Rule #1: Must not wake up after 5am-7am. Rule #2: Must not stay up after 9pm-11pm. Rule #3: Do not drink alcohol. Rule #4…” He trails off, eyes quickly darting around the rest of the scroll. He frowns, brows furrowing as he drops the parchment onto his lap. “This is just the Lan Clan rules!”

Lan Wangji nods.

Nie Huaisang sighs. “So Lan-laoshi still went over the rules for the entire lecture…” 

Huaisang tensed, realizing his slip one second too late. God, is he losing his touch? He was too disoriented from this whole ordeal. As soon as he gets a moment to himself, Huaisang will be able to breathe and get his act together. 

In the meantime, he hopes no one catches his error. 

Jin Zixuan snorts caustically. “Apparently, someone broke the rules on the first night.” He explains, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lan Wangji just sends a pointed glare Wei Wuxian’s way, who was whistling innocently. 

And Jiang Wanyin…

Jiang Wanyin is giving him a weird look.

Before he can question it, Lan Wangji speaks again. 

“One cannot claim ignorance the next time they are disobedient.” The Lan explains in a low tone, still glaring at the smug Wei Wuxian. 

“Come on, Lan Zhan, you cannot expect someone to remember four thousand rules in one night.” Huaisang says. 

“Three thousand.” Jiang Wanyin corrects.

Huaisang blinks, tilting his head in confusion at the sudden interjection.

“What?” He asks. Jiang Wanyin frowns. 

“There’s three thousand rules, isn’t there?” The other boy says, eyeing him again with that weird look again. “Not four thousand.”  

He should have known that there were times that Jiang Wanyin was too keen an observer.

“…right.” He concedes with a soft chuckle. “Same difference.” 

Luckily, Jiang Wanyin doesn’t persist, despite looking like he really wanted to. Huaisang’s lip twitches, the feeling of being caught unawares flooding through him. 

He was growing careless. Huaisang needs to watch what he says going forward. 

“By the way, why didn’t you tell us that you have secret tea parties with the peacock?” Wei Wuxian says, placing his elbows on the bed and holding his face in his hands to mimic a kid ready to hear a bedtime story. 

Jin Zixuan shoots him a glare at the nickname, and Wei Wuxian is more than happy to return one back. 

Huaisang chuckles. “Well, I am his one and only friend—” 

“You’re not my only friend.” Jin Zixuan grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks were beginning to burn as red as the cinnabar dot on his forehead. 

“Disciples don’t count; they’re literally paid to be around you. Meanwhile, I genuinely enjoy your company.” Huaisang says, patting a hand on his own chest. After a moment, he tacks on a completely necessary, “Well, sometimes.”

“Sometimes?!” 

“You must admit, you certainly have your moments.” Huaisang says vaguely. “Don’t worry, Jin-xiong, Jiang Wanyin’s the same way! You both like to say mean things to the people you like, but only those closest to you know, deep down, you have so much love in your heart it can’t be contained. In fact, you both would get along great once we get rid of this silly farce you three have going on. Why, I know that Jiang-guniang would really appreciate—”

“Shijie can do better than this asshole.” Wei Wuxian chimes in, scoffing. 

“I have nothing to do with that woman.” Jin Zixuan crosses his arms over his chest.

“That woman is our sister and your fiancée, so you better address her with more respect.” Jiang Wanyin hisses. Because, of course, Jiang Wanyin also had to throw his hand in the ringer when it came to his precious, must-be-protected-by-peacock-assholes-like-Jin-Zixuan, older sister. 

Jin Zixuan, never one to back out of a challenge, rolls his eyes. “I didn’t ask for a fiancée in the first place.”

“Ohhh, so we’re still at this level, huh…” Huaisang mutters to himself, watching all the bickering with an impassive expression. 

Before another fight could erupt between the three, the Nie claps his hands together to call for their attention.

“This is what I was talking about. I think it’s time we air out our grievances between one another. How about we start with Jin Zixuan?” Huaisang says, gesturing over to Jin Zixuan with a wave of his hands. 

Jin Zixuan had the gall to look baffled. 

“Me? I’ve done nothing wrong!” He exclaims

“You may not have intended to insult someone, but you must admit that you came across rather rude.” Nie Huaisang explains. 

His attention then turns to Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, who is busy sticking out his tongue childishly at the Jin. “Wei-xiong, Jiang Wanyin, you mustn’t be so quick to judge Jin-xiong either. He can’t help the sect he was born into; he was raised with different standards.”

And not to leave anyone unscathed, Huaisang turns to Lan Wangji, who seemed to sit up even straighter than he already is. 

“Lan-xiong, you…” Huaisang begins but takes a moment to think. 

What could you even tell a Lan to fix when they exercise nothing but perfection and order? 

He rubs the back of his neck, looking unsure of what he could even say to the Lan. 

“...keep trying your best,” is what Huaisang settles for in the end.  

He even lifts his hands and gives Lan two motivational thumbs up. 

And, for the first time in their lives, Jiang Wanyin, Wei Wuxian, and Jin Zixuan somehow found themselves on the same wavelength. 

“That’s all?!” Jiang Wanyin demands. 

“I think that’s hardly fair.” Jin Zixuan agrees with a frown.

“Why does he get words of encouragement, but we get reprimanded?” Wei Wuxian sulks.

“Because Lan-xiong is a good boy! I can’t scold him for following the rules!” Huaisang says, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis.

“Well then maybe scold him for being an asshole!” Jiang Wanyin retorts. 

“But that’s just how he speaks!”

Lan Wangji looks mildly offended at that. 

A knock at the door cuts into their conversation. 

Huaisang looks over to the door and realizes Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen have returned, watching them with amused expressions. 

“You all seem like you’re having fun,” Lan Xichen says with a fond smile. 

It makes Huaisang’s stomach twist bitterly, but he pushes it down to address his brother. 

“Da-ge!” Huaisang says, perking up and grinning earnestly at his brother. 

Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian stand up and move their seats to make way for Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen. 

Once Nie Mingjue is close enough to the bed, Nie Huaisang immediately latches onto the larger man’s arm.   

“I hope you aren’t straining yourself.” Nie Mingjue says, reaching over with his other hand and ruffling Huaisang’s hair. 

Huaisang preens at the touch, wanting to soak up every bit of attention he receives from his brother. 

“I feel fine,” Huaisang assures him, smiling cheerfully. “In fact, I think I’m even ready to take on Lan-laoshi’s lectures tomorrow.” 

This is a bold statement, one that no one in the room had expected. Even Lan Wangji looked shocked to hear such words come out of Nie Huaisang’s mouth. 

He thought hard about his next steps. Sure, he wanted nothing more than to go back to the Unclean Realm and protect his brother, but there were things that could be prevented if he stayed here. 

So, ultimately, this was the right choice. 

No, it was the only choice. 

“If I may, Nie-zongzhu,” Wei Wuxian says with a lowered voice, sending dubious looks toward Huaisang. “But I believe there may have been some underlying trauma to the brain if Huaisang is eager to attend lectures.” 

Nie Mingjue’s eyebrows furrow. “The healers didn’t mention anything out of the ordinary with his condition. Although, they did say that him waking up and recovering in such a short period of time was a miracle in itself.” He states, eyeing him suspiciously as well. 

Huaisang shrugs as if that serves as an answer to the unspoken questions pointed his way. 

“Maybe the gods liked my artistic talent and thought I needed to stick around a little longer. How could they let the world fall to ruin for lack of decorum??” Huaisang says with an exaggerated sigh. 

Nie Mingjue glances over at Lan Xichen, who seems just as confused and worried. 

“Look, didi, Xichen and I discussed with Lan Qiren, and we believe it would be best if you returned with me to the Unclean Realm to recover—” 

Huaisang clicks his tongue, waving away the words before his brother could finish. “Like I said, that’s quite alright. I don’t mind staying for the remainder of the program.” 

“Huh??” Wei Wuxian gapes in exasperation at Huaisang’s uncharacteristic behavior. 

The boy quickly pulls him down by the arm and whispers in his ear, “Nie-xiong, what are you doing? This is your chance! You were complaining to just about anyone who would listen about wanting to go back home…”

Huaisang shakes his head, twirling a loose strand of his hair between his fingers with an excuse at the ready. 

“But if I return, then I’ll definitely have to come back the following year. And by then, you all will already have graduated. Who will keep me company then?” He reasons, pressing his lips together distraughtfully. “I will definitely be bored out of my mind and fail again, so I’m staying.” 

“Well, I think that’s wonderful to hear!” Lan Xichen says, placing a hand on the curve of Nie Mingjue’s elbow and beaming brightly at Huaisang’s newfound enthusiasm.

Nie Mingjue is still frowning, peering at Huaisang closely. He doesn’t look wholly convinced, and Huaisang couldn’t blame him. The Nie Huaisang from two days ago was complaining to anyone who would listen about wanting to go home. But now, suddenly, Nie Huaisang wanted to stay? When the one thing he had been begging for was finally being given to him on a silver platter?

“Mingjue, if A-Sang wants to stay, we will gladly welcome him.” Lan Xichen says, reaching over to place his hand on Huaisang's.

Huaisang flinches at the touch. 

He hadn’t meant to have such a big reaction. 

It had just caught off guard by all this touching from Lan Xichen. Over the years, he had minimized how much physical contact he had with Lan Xichen. Each touch always brought a sense of cold dread over his body—it sickened him. 

Lan Xichen may not have known what Jin Guangyao had been planning, but if he hadn’t put so much trust in that bastard to play Cleansing for his brother, maybe Da-ge would have still been alive.

But this Xichen doesn’t know that.

This Xichen was used to Huaisang clinging onto Lan Xichen whenever he could. Lan Xichen indulged him every time.  

So when Lan Xichen’s hand freezes in place, blinking down at Huaisang in disbelief, Huaisang knew he fucked up. 

“Oh, hahaha, I’m suddenly feeling rather faint from all the excitement.” Huaisang says abruptly, trying to correct his behavior. 

He avoids Lan Xichen’s inquiring gaze, fanning his face with his hand. 

Then with a dramatic sigh, he drops his other hand onto his forehead. “I can only handle so much attention in a day. Look! I’m already completely flushed.”

Nie Mingjue's expression darkens, looking between Lan Xichen and Huaisang. Lan Xichen pulls his hands back, cradling it against his chest as if Huaisang had burned him. He stares at Huaisang, concern etched on his gentle features. 

Shit. Hopefully this doesn’t ruin any of his future plans…

Lan Xichen backs away, placing his hands behind his back and schooling his features into his usual gentle expression. But there is no mistaking the confused hurt in Lan Xichen’s smile. 

“You should rest more then, didi.” Nie Mingjue says slowly, getting up from his spot and adjusting the pillows so Huaisang could lay back down. 

“I think we should also take our leave.” Jin Zixuan says, smoothing down the wrinkles in his robes as he gets up from the chair.

He turns to Huaisang and gives him a knowing look. “Get some rest, and don’t sneak out to paint the sunset.” 

Huaisang shrugs, actually feeling drained from all this back and forth. He’s running around this whole thing without a plan, and it was getting to him. 

He needed to get his act together before things spiral out of his control…

“I’ll find something to do.” He says.

Jin Zixuan accepts that as a satisfying answer before bowing to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen. He also gives Lan Wangji a short nod in acknowledgement, blatantly ignoring Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian as he makes his way past to the door.  

Beside him, Lan Wangji watches Huaisang with an unreadable expression, lips pressed firmly together. He makes no move to leave, but Huaisang reaches over to give Lan Wangji’s hands, which had been folded on top of the scrolls on his lap, a light pat. 

“Thank you for visiting me,” he says quietly to the Lan. 

There is a slight pause before Lan Wangji gives him a small nod, removing the lecture scrolls from his lap and placing them neatly onto the floor beside the bed. He stands up and brushes his robes, bowing respectfully to Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue before heading toward the door.    

Wei Wuxian bends at the waist, leaning around Jiang Wanyin to address the boy in the bed. “See you at lectures tomorrow, Nie-xiong!” He says, giving Huaisang his signature mischievous grin.

“Hope you save me a seat at the best desk! I still have those…artbooks you asked me to bring you.” Huaisang replies with a not-so-subtle wink. 

Wei Wuxian’s grin widens at that. Jiang Wanyin’s nose wrinkles at the implications. 

“You both are going to get us expelled,” Jiang Wanyin mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shoves Wei Wuxian playfully toward the door and bows his respects to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen. 

Before he could follow Wei Wuxian to the door, Huaisang had the sudden urge to stop him and grabs Jiang Wanyin by the hand. 

The boy whirls around to face him. 

He’s giving Huaisang that look again. The same one he had when Huaisang misspoke about the number of Lan rules. 

Could it be possible that Jiang Wanyin knew more than he let on? 

But this boy’s shoulders are still too light, not so readily guarded and unkind. He looked at Huaisang like a friend in need. Not with tenderness of a previous lover or contempt at a traitor as he had grown used to seeing on the older Jiang from the future. 

This boy was purely the past. 

And if all goes right, this boy of the past will become the new future. 

“Everything okay?” Jiang Wanyin asks gently.

Huaisang doesn’t know what he should say, doesn't even know why he stopped him from leaving. Maybe it was because it scared him, the idea that he will never meet the man he loves in his first lifetime ever again. Acting on the selfish desire to just hold his hand one last time before he lets him go forever. 

Huaisang swallows the heartbreak rising in his throat before shaking his head. He gives the other boy’s fingers a tiny squeeze. 

“Have a good day, Jiang Wanyin.” Huaisang says softly, eyes steadily locked on their grasped hands. 

He allows one last tiny smile to curl at the corners of his lips before he finally lets go of the other boy’s hand. 

They fall limply at their respective sides, and he could feel Jiang Wanyin’s piercing gaze on his face. 

He refuses to meet it. 

Eventually, Jiang Wanyin gives him one last worried look before bowing his head in a curt nod, turning around and exiting the room. 

Once they are finally alone, his brother continues to stare at him warily. He has his arms crossed over his chest, his signature scowl deepened with an imperceptible tension. Huaisang knew there must have been a million questions on his tongue but he probably didn't know which to start with. Lan Xichen is hovering behind him, peeking over Mingjue's towering figure at Huaisang with an anxious expression fluttering on his face. They looked like worried parents that Huaisang almost wanted to tease them for it. 

“Didi, are you sure this is what you want to do?” Mingue asks him again.

No. He thinks to himself. No, I want to go home. 

It would be easy too. To just say aloud: "Let's go home, Da-ge. Please. Don’t go anywhere I can’t follow."

Why did the future have to fall into his hands? He wasn't responsible for what is to come. He could just enjoy peace, make sure his brother stayed alive, and keep his head down. He could leave the future to people like Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji. He didn’t have to participate. 

But Huaisang was never one to just let things happen on their own. 

Not when he knew things could be beyond his control.  

“I’m sure,” he says with the utmost conviction. 

He will change the future.

Chapter Text

Waking up at five in the morning should be considered a crime to even the Heavens. 

Stupid Lans and their stupid routines. Nie Huaisang is already wishing he went back home with his Da-ge.

When he had become Sect Leader, he allowed himself to rise no earlier than ten. Early enough to start the day, late enough to not feel absolutely disgusting. He didn’t even have the comfort of Baxia. The saber had been by his side for the past thirteen years, a solace from all the grieving and lying. But it would have been more suspicious if Baxia didn’t go back with Mingjue. 

Turning the corner, Huisang stops in his tracks. 

Jiang Wanyin leans by the classroom entrance, staring at the opposite direction as if waiting for someone. Probably Wei Wuxian if Huaisang had to guess. 

The Jiang heir didn’t seem to notice him just yet, and Huaisang allows himself a few seconds to admire seeing the past-self of the man he once intimately knew. He took in the youthful features, feeling the flutters of nostalgia in the pit of his stomach. 

It was almost like falling in love again. 

When they were still together, one of Huaisang’s favorite pastimes was tracing his fingers along the sculpt of Jiang Cheng’s face as if committing the feeling of his face to memory. He’d smooth his thumb along the curve of sharp cheekbones, massage the furrow out from between his brows, graze his lips ever so softly against his chin to ask for a kiss. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” Jiang Cheng had asked him once.

Huaisang had removed his hands, looking shy. “Do what?” 

“Touch my face.”

“I very much like your face.”

“Is that all? You only like me for my face?” 

Huaisang had hummed at the notion, eyes slowly drifting downward and back up to meet his eyes. 

“Among other things…” He said teasingly, leaning in closer, prepared to steal a kiss… 

“You look terrible.” He is startled out of his reverie by the younger Jiang Wanyin, who, in his daze, is now standing in front of him. 

Huaisang unfurls his fan, covering his face and scolding himself inwardly. It wasn’t the time to reminisce about his past (future?) love life. He hopes his cheeks aren’t flushed from his lucid daydreaming. 

How hopeless of him. Even now, Jiang Cheng never fails to consume his every thought.

Jiang Wanyin’s words finally catch up to him. In his opinion, Nie Huaisang didn’t have to be told—he felt terrible. A constant loop of thoughts had kept him up all night. Sprinkled with the crippling fear that this was all temporary and he’d be transported back as nothing but faded embers and ash dust.

But he couldn’t very well explain that to Jiang Wanyin, so he playfully tapped his fan against the boy’s chest and said, “Jiang Wanyin, when you see a usually beautiful person not looking their best, the first thing you should be saying is ‘Good morning’.”

The Jiang boy frowns, then corrects himself promptly, “Good morning, you look terrible.”

“Aha, so you agree, I’m a beautiful person?” Huaisang says with a flirtatious flourish of his fan, hiding a faux-demure look as it covered his face. 

Jiang Wanyin scoffs, “I have eyes, don’t I?” 

Huaisang gapes, not at all expecting that kind of response. 

He had hoped his words would allow him to see a maidenly Jiang Wanyin get flustered over some casual flirting, just as he used to when they were young. It would have been nostalgic to push his buttons once more. 

But somehow the Jiang Wanyin standing before him felt more inclined to the Jiang Cheng of the distant future. A man who had long grown used to his theatrical attitude and watched on fondly instead of with mild annoyance.

It was strange, but Huaisang isn’t complaining. 

He collects himself, smiling shyly as he fans his flushed cheeks. “And they say you had no tact, yet you so easily bewitched me with charm…” 

“And who are these ‘they’ you speak of? Shall I get my sword ready to strike?” Jiang Wanyin asks, raising an eyebrow. Huaisang tips his chin up in response. 

“Why, just your future matchmakers, of course,” he teases. 

Jiang Wanyin shakes his head, but there is a small smile playing on his lips. 

It makes Huaisang feel as if he uncovered one of the universe’s greatest secrets. 

“Now you’re just being coy.” Jiang Wanyin says. Huaisang can’t help himself; he lets out a genuine laugh. 

How simple this conversation had become. No hidden schemes, no biting tongues, no double meanings.  

The past, truly, had been a much simpler time.

Huaisang knew it was not the time for all this. There were more important things he needed to handle. Besides, hadn’t he already gone down this road before? Nothing but heartbreak at the end of it.

In this timeline, Nie Huaisang has the choice to not involve himself in this man’s life. He’ll save Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan, and his Da-ge. The Wens won’t burn Lotus Pier to the ground, Wei Wuxian won’t lose his core and settle for demonic cultivation, and Jin Guangyao won’t ruin their lives.

In this lifetime, Jiang Cheng will probably go on to marry some faceless woman of great honor who checks all the boxes on his high list of standards. Maybe he’ll even start a family with her. Huaisang had always known Jiang Cheng craved for a big family—they would have a kid or two, with a few dogs in the mix. 

In this timeline, he would finally be happy. 

Something that Nie Huaisang was never able to truly fulfill. 

Huaisang had his chance to love this man in his first life, and he threw it all away for petty revenge. Jiang Cheng deserved someone who would commit their all to him. He should let this go before they get to the point of hurting each other once again. 

But like a moth to a flame, Nie Huaisang never could seem to stay away.

“Maybe…is it working on you?” Huaisang says, taking a bold step forward into Jiang Wanyin’s space. If he was uncomfortable with the sudden close proximity, Jiang Wanyin didn’t show it on his face. His growth spurt hadn’t hit yet, so he was still only just an inch taller than Nie Huaisang.

Which Huaisang never minded. In fact, Huaisang thrived on how Jiang Cheng spoiled him. He liked having the man lean down to kiss him, or sweep him up into a pair of strong arms as if he weighed a feather.

Jiang Cheng’s pride had always been his greatest flaw, so being able to make such a stubborn man bend to his whims, both physically and emotionally, always sent a thrill down Huaisang’s spine. It made Huaisang feel like a priority—like a rare exception to having the privilege of owning a place in Jiang Cheng’s heart.

How could he not fall in love?

Jiang Wanyin tilts his head to the side, eyeing him inquisitively, that secret smile still playing on his lips. 

“Just a little,” he says. 

And boy, did that do wonders to Huaisang’s heart. 

He closes his eyes and savors the feeling. He had almost forgotten that Jiang Wanyin never had to try very hard in order for him to hopelessly lose all sense.  

If Jiang Cheng was too stubborn, then Nie Huaisang was much too selfish. 

“The rabbit food must finally be getting to me because I don’t remember asking to be fed dog food too,” a voice pipes up as a person cuts in between them. 

Wei Wuxian sweeps his white sleeves flamboyantly, wiggling his eyebrows at them.

“Wei Ying, don’t cause trouble.” Jiang Wanyin says firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Me? Cause trouble? Never.” 

“Trouble would be your secondary name if given the chance.” Huaisang chimes in. 

“I’m a saint. Ask Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says, waving emphatically to the stone-faced Lan already sitting inside the classroom. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! I’m no menace, right? I know you enjoy my banter!”

A twitch to his scowl, Lan Wangji continues to ignore the Jiang disciple. Jiang Wanyin is already pinching the bridge of his nose at his brother’s antics. He gives his brother a warning look before turning back to Huaisang.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. If you feel even a little bit unwell, you say something. Got it?” Jiang Wanyin says. It sounded more like a threat than sound advice, but Huaisang had always been an expert at Jiang Cheng-speak.  

Huaisang smiles softly. “I’m fine, Jiang Wanyin. Really.” 

The scowl on Jiang Wanyin’s face twitches at his words. He looked like he wanted to say something to him but changes his mind last minute. The Jiang spins on his heel and heads inside toward the empty desk behind Lan Wangji. 

Wei Wuxian is just about to follow suit when Huaisang stops him before he could enter.

Huaisang unfurls his fan, fluttering it nervously against his face. “Ahh, Wei-xiong. Before class starts, could I ask for a favor…?”

“I told you not to cause trouble!” Jiang Wanyin hissed as they made their way to the library pavilion.

“I thought it was a very clever idea.” Nie Huaisang says, fanning himself innocently. 

“I thought it was a very fun idea.” Wei Wuxian pitches in, snickering. “Did you see the look on Lan Zhan’s face? Priceless.”

“My mother is going to string me up by the ankles for allowing you to run amok. And only on the second day of classes no less!” Jiang Cheng rants, glaring at his brother. He also wags a finger in Nie Huaisang’s direction. “And you! You only just recovered, and you still want to play tricks?”

Nie Huaisang whistles innocently.

Of course he wanted to play tricks. How else was he going to test how far the limits of the timeline could be pushed? The results of his trick had been very conclusive, giving him a leading hypothesis with this little experiment of his.

From what he could gather, it could be determined that certain events are set to happen. 

Wei Wuxian’s classroom debate yesterday can be considered an example of that phenomenon, but it was definitely not enough to prove it.  

So when Huaisang noticed that there was an exam still on schedule for the day of his return, an idea formed in his mind.  

In the original timeline, Nie Huaisang had asked Wei Wuxian to sneak him the answers to the exam. Wei Wuxian was punished and sentenced to rewriting Lan sect rules while being chaperoned by Lan Wangji. 

So Huaisang decided to change his favor to Wei Wuxian. 

It was nothing intricate, just a minor change that couldn’t possibly have much impact. Although, he must admit, it was pretty amusing to see the stupefied shock ripple over Lan Wangji’s features as Wei Wuxian confidently plopped into the seat beside him, elbow resting improperly on the desk and leaning much too closely in the Lan's personal space. 

The seat would have originally been occupied by Nie Huaisang had he not convinced Wei Wuxian to switch beforehand. (It really didn’t take much convincing as Wei Wuxian was already itching to push the Lan boy’s buttons.) 

Lan Qiren had walked in before anything could be said. The two conspirators did get a sharp look from their teacher, who immediately noticed the obvious seat change but decided to stay silent and pass around the exam booklets instead.

The exam began. 

Five minutes into the exam was when Huaisang threw the first note. 

And Wei Wuxian, never one to pass up on an opportunity for mischief, threw one back. 

They were well into their fourth exchange when Lan Wangji finally had enough and caught them. 

The events that transpired after that played out as it had in the original timeline, except for one key difference.

Huaisang had also been sentenced to copy Lan rules with Wei Wuxian.  

It was an event much too small to have dire consequences (he hoped anyways), and changing one small thing had produced not exact results as the original but one somewhat similar. Because his involvement this time around had been much more obvious, Nie Huaisang had been punished. But the punishment was all the same as were the other key players. 

Meaning: changes are possible. 

Huaisang forces down the giddiness for his newfound discovery and hides behind a nervous smile. 

“You know I don’t do well with exams.” Huaisang explains, fanning himself more vigorously to keep up the pretense of nervousness. “Besides, I had only wanted Wei Wuxian to tip his head to the side a bit so I could copy his answers from behind. It was Wei Wuxian who kept making it obvious we were passing notes!”

“I wanted to see how long it would take before Lan Zhan would notice.” Wei Wuxian says, clinging onto his brother’s arm as he explains. Jiang Wanyin rolls his eyes, letting his brother shake his arm wildly. “And when he did, it became like a challenge on how many notes I could sneak to you without him noticing!”

“Plus, it gave me this great idea for a talisman! I was thinking what if we can attach a part of our soul into paper—” 

“We’re here,” Jiang Wanyin says, stopping in front of the library pavilion.

Wei Wuxian lets go of Jiang Wanyin’s arm. “You think Lan Zhan is already inside?” He asks, still grinning widely. 

They watch Wei Wuxian slides open the door and skips merrily inside, disappearing behind the library shelves with an exuberant ‘Lan Zhan! Are you here already? Duh, of course you are!’ 

Jiang Wanyin pinches the bridge of his nose at his brother’s childish behavior beside him. He turns to leave, but Huaisang caught his wrist before he could get too far.  

“Jiang Wanyin, wait,” Huaisang says, stopping Jiang Wanyin in his tracks. He pulls the boy back into his space and reaches out to straighten out his outer robe collar, which had slipped sideways in Wei Wuxian’s hold. “An uprising heir such as yourself shouldn’t have such an unkempt appearance.” 

His hands linger on the boy’s shoulders, and he could feel them tense beneath his fingers. Huaisang raises his gaze to see the Jiang’s eyebrows turned downward, a frown marking his lips. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” He asks suddenly. 

For one slow and embarrassing second, Huaisang had almost believed he was pulled back into a memory again.

But then the Jiang Wanyin in front of him has his jaw set and seems to grow more frustrated at the long silence, and he realizes the question is being spoken aloud in the present, not his mind. 

Huaisang jolts, pulling his hands away and trying not to acknowledge the small hint of hurt that came with the rejection. “I apologize, I should not have touched you so casually without your permission—”

Jiang Wanyin clicks his tongue. “Not that.” 

Huaisang pauses. “...then what?”

The Jiang huffs out a frustrated exhale through his nose.  “Why are you calling me Jiang Wanyin?”

“Is that not your name?” Huaisang asks sarcastically, unfurling his fan to cover his face. 

In full honesty, he had not even realized he had been doing so. In his previous life, he had gotten used to calling him by his courtesy name in public. They had agreed, since they had both become Sect Leaders, that he would be called Jiang Wanyin in public. Jiang Cheng was reserved for private moments. A-Cheng, for more intimate ones. 

It felt wrong to call him ‘Jiang-xiong’ as if Jiang Cheng were merely a close acquaintance held at a reasonable distance as he held everyone else. 

But Huaisang could see how suspicious it must have sounded at the present time. 

“I thought you disliked being called Jiang-xiong?” Huaisang diverts, turning his gaze away from him.

“No! I mean...well…” Jiang Wanyin’s words trail off, a frustrated twitch at his lips. 

When Jiang Wanyin doesn’t elaborate, Huaisang forces a small smile. 

“Don’t think too deeply about it, I simply wanted to extend my courtesy to your wishes. But if it bothers you so much, I’ll call you Jiang-xiong again if you want.” 

Jiang Wanyin exhales his frustration. “That’s not the point—”

“It is time.” A deep voice interrupts Jiang Wanyin before he could finish. 

Huaisang glances behind him to see Lan Wangji in the doorway, glaring at the two. An energetic Wei Wuxian is bouncing on the balls of his feet behind him, trying to peer over the Lan’s shoulder.   

“I guess we’ll see you back at the dorms before curfew,” Huaisang says to Jiang Wanyin, giving a reassuring smile before taking a step back. 

He turns around and follows the other two inside the library pavilion. He could feel Jiang Wanyin’s gaze on his back.

He tries not to think about how he always seemed to be leaving Jiang Wanyin behind, no matter which timeline he was in.

An hour into it, Nie Huaisang comes to the slow realization that the real punishment was not copying three thousand Lan rules. 

It was the utter boredom.

Even the shameless flirting happening in front of him was losing his attention span. Let’s just say that it got very old very quickly.

But he had to stick it out for a few minutes. He purposely waited a full hour before shooting up from his spot, shutting close his booklet of doodles he had been drawing in place of doing the actual punishment. 

“I have to use the bathroom.” He says, stretching his arms and legs out. His legs felt like jelly from sitting for too long. 

Lan Wanji frowns, eyes trailing over the candle wicks in the corner of the room. “Breaks are not allowed yet.” 

“I think I’ll explode if I wait another second.” Huaisang adds, hopping from one foot to another. He winces inwardly a second later, realizing that may not have been the best choice of words as a qi-deviation victim if Lan Wangji’s grim expression was anything to go by. 

Huaisang sends over an apologetic look before clapping his hands together to plead again. 

Lan Wangji looks conflicted. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments before heaving out a soft sigh. He puts his brush down and stood up, patting his robes down to straighten them. Nie Huaisang stops him in his tracks, shaking his head.

“No worries, A-Zhan, I know where the bathroom is!” 

Lan Wangji frowns. “But—”

A hand shoots out and grabs hold of Lan Wangji’s arm. The boy is pulled down and stumbles back in his seat, Wei Wuxian grinning closely beside him. 

“Yeah, Lan Zhan. You wouldn’t want to leave me unsupervised, right?” Wei Wuxian says.

“Besides, there’s something I wanted to show you!” He adds a wink at Nie Huaisang when Lan Wangji has his back turned. 

No doubt whatever it is that Wei Wuxian wants to show Lan Wangji will be nothing but trouble. 

Trouble was what he was definitely counting on. 

Nie Huaisang walks through the shelves, pointedly passing the doorway that led straight to the lavatory, to the farther corner of the library. By the time he reached the shelf he had been looking for, there was a sudden sound of a book being slammed onto a desk, followed by Wei Wuxian’s hysterical cackling. Which meant, the clock had started, and he needed to work quickly while Wei Wuxian had Lan Wangji’s full, undivided attention. 

He glides his fingers across the spines of the books until he feels the subtle indentation on one spine. It is an invisible symbol on the spine, something that could not be physically seen. Instead of pulling it down from the top, Nie Huisang had pushed it forward.

There is a soft rumble before the floor beside him creaks open silently.

Huaisang found out about the Lan’s secret pavilion of forbidden books during the war. What most people were not aware of was that Nie Huaisang had been present at the burning of the Cloud Recesses. His Da-ge had sent him over a few weeks prior as a safety precaution when the sects’ bonds with the Wens were beginning to strain. Da-ge had been so sure that Nie Huaisang would be safer with the Lans if the Wens decided to attack the Unclean Realm. 

No one had been prepared for the Wens to set the Cloud Recesses on fire. 

Lan Xichen had taken him down to the secret pavilion and helped pack as many of the books as they could. They escaped down the tunnels, which led to an outside cave by the creek. They got separated in one of the towns on their way back to the Unclean Realm. It wasn't until later that Huaisang found out their separation had birthed the very fateful meeting between Lan Xichen and Meng Yao.  

Huaisang holds his breath, taking a moment to listen to the ruckus behind him. Wei Wuxian is still in hysterics, although, this time it seems that objects were being thrown if the loud thumps were to go by anything.   

“What’s wrong, Lan Zhan? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen these kinds of books before?”

The clock is ticking. He had to get this done. 

He keeps his steps light as he crept down the stairs. Huaisang had only seen the book one time in his life. There are no defining characteristics to the book, just a plain navy cover. 

Thank goodness for the Lans' obsession with keeping things organized. It would have made searching for one book an impossible feat, but each section was labelled, no book would ever be out of place. 

He reaches his desired section, running his fingers along the spines before finally stopping on one book.

As soon as he touches it, Huaisang knows.

He pulls out the book, tracing the characters on the cover. 

Collection of Spirit Turmoil.  

Destroying the Song of Turmoil would be easy, there aren’t many people who even know that half of these books even exist down there. But, as proven by the events in the future, merely ripping out the pages were a beacon of suspicion. It left a trail for people to follow. But if Huaisang destroyed the entire book, they could just blame it on misplacement. And that's if they ever find out—it wasn't like anyone among the Lans would be looking for such a book.

It would be as if it had never existed in the first place.

Satisfied, Huaisang shoved the book into his sleeve and turned around to go back the way he came.

Only for a sharp blade to be pointed at his throat. 

He realizes much too late that Wei Wuxian was no longer cackling in the background upstairs and that the loud thumps had long since grown silent.

“Stealing is forbidden.”