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Chapter Text

The Burial Mounds was always known for its oppressive darkness and the constant gloom that it proudly carried with it. It was infamously known for murders, for vengeful ghosts, for undead corpses, and most of all, for battles. A thousand battles had took place there, and in the future, another thousand would fight again in the exact same spot. Jiang Cheng was sure that this one, however, would always be one of the more memorable ones.

Screams blared across the mountains of corpses, a grand chorus of cries, shouts, and shrieks, all coming into one great symphony. Above, the sky is swallowed whole by a void of blackness; it engulfed everything into an eerie darkness, no stars or moon to guide, no hope for beacons of light. It was complete darkness.

Tens, hundreds, thousands of men fought their way to the top, swinging swords and throwing talismans, fighting away the darkness that wished to consume them. They groaned and they screamed and they ignored their exhaustion to fight one more corpse, to get one step closer to the enemy. Jiang Cheng led them. He was the one they looked to for instructions, the one who motivated them, the one who they were getting vengeance for.

He had no idea what he was doing.

Behind his men he spotted others who led their own armies, all for different wants but a similar goal. The minor sects merged together, becoming one great mixture of colours. There were the Jins, who had greed in their eyes but revenge layered on their chests, their constant want for more motivating them. There were the Lans, whose army looked considerably smaller than what they had planned, but no less strong. There was Nie Mingue, leading the Nies, battling for justice. And there was him, leading the Jiangs, fighting against a person who used to be family. Who still is family.

Looming above them was the feared Yiling Patriarch, insanity shining in his eyes, gentleness hidden in his sharp movements. He controlled the corpses with practiced ease, his thin fingers gliding across his notorious dizi, his image similar to the puppets that dance to his tune.

The darkness of the Burial Mounds surrounded him and seemed to melt into him, until he became one with the surroundings. He looked like the bringer of death, his red eyes casting a glow on his face, looking strangely beautiful and terrifying at the same time. He was a god, and they were the humans that were receiving his wrath, his almighty power. All Jiang Cheng could focus on was the paleness of his skin, the gauntness of his face, how his bones poked out of his skin. Burial Mounds took life out of everything, and that included the master of it.

(If he only stayed with Jiang Cheng, he would not be this way. His skin would be tanned and healthy, his cheeks plump and rosy, his posture full of the bright life that he used to shine upon the world. If only he stayed with Jiang Cheng, and not with the Wens. But the Wens needed help, and Wei Wuxian would not be Wei Wuxian if he didn't give help. It was in his nature. He only gave and gave and gave, and never, ever, cared about what he left for himself. And now, at the very end, there was nothing left. He has nothing. All because he selflessly gave and never took.)

They look to him and see a monster, a demon, the personification of evil, who murders and pillages and commits acts so atrocious that everyone fears his name. Jiang Cheng looks to him and sees his best friend, his beloved brother, the one he loves, who is gentle and kind and acts so selfless that Jiang Cheng can't help but think that he is the hero that he aspires and fails to be.

But now his sister and brother-in-law are dead, and his anger blinds him. He doesn't want to think how Wei Wuxian feels (he must be so scared, he's probably blaming himself, the idiot) as it doesn't matter. He was the one who killed them. (Although, he wasn't. It was the Ghost General that killed Jin Zixuan, and his sister was trying to protect him.)

One step at a time, he gets closer to the enemy and one step at a time, he gets closer to vengeance. They expect him to kill him once he gets to the top. They expect him to brandish his sword, cut through the enemy, and claim victory for slaying the evil that plagued them.

One step at a time, he gets closer to his brother and one step at a time, he gets closer to facing the tension between them. He wants to scream at him and hug him at the same time. He wants to prepare hurtful words, throw them at him so he knows Jiang Cheng is hurting, and then he wants to bring him home so he knows he can still be forgiven.

He has no idea what he was doing.

He can't live up to their expectations, and he does not have the ability to do what he wants. He is unable to harm his brother and is also unable to help him.

Jiang Cheng has no idea what he's doing. But one step at a time, he got closer to his enemy, to his brother, fuelled by the anger that burns in him. He doesn't know what he will do or say once he gets up there, whether it is to kill or harm or help his brother. If there's one thing he knows, though, is that his sister is gone and he has only one family member left. His sister isn't coming back, she had died protecting him, and he was not going to disrespect her sacrifice by letting them kill Wei Wuxian. She would want them to stick together; they are family, after all.

That doesn't mean he'll let him off the hook. He will shout and yell and scream and hit Wei Wuxian until he felt satisfied, and only then will he try to rebuild something between them. But that has to be done in the comfort of their own home, not out here with ravenous beasts hoping to sink their teeth into his brother, to gain every piece of knowledge he has. He can already see it; in Lotus Pier, where it all started, a shaky foundation of friendship building between them once again.

First, he needed to get Wei Wuxian.

One step. And then another. A corpse is killed, murdered by the furious slash of Sandu. Another one comes at him, this time blocked by the sudden whip of Zidian, a weapon that he and his brother are both masters over.

Finally, he was there. A few feet away from him was his brother, with invisible ghosts haunting him and death pulling him down. Behind him, his army followed, cultivators cheering him on, the only thoughts in their minds kill, kill, kill. Wei Wuxian had not noticed him, so wrapped up in his own melody.

But then it stopped.

Wei Wuxian's bony fingers released Chenqing from its grip, and down, down, down it went, rolling onto the muddy battlefield. It was a careless action, one that caused confusion and shock, an action that said this weapon isn't needed anymore. Everyone watched in horror as another, more dreaded, more vile, feared weapon was pulled out. The Stygian Tiger Seal looked large in Wei Wuxian's thin hands, like it was too heavy an object for him to hold.

Wei Wuxian's eyes met his. Jiang Cheng paused where he was, his thundering heart slowing down as time seemed to stop. There was a light in his eyes, one that Jiang Cheng knew well. He had seen it a million times, which as soon followed by a dangerous or suicidal act. This time, though, it was worse. It said my time has come, you will not need to deal with me any longer.

And then Wei Wuxian smiled. It was not one of the sinister smirks that whispered promises of death and evil that he had taken up once becoming the Yiling Patriarch. Instead, it was one of his bright, kind, gentle smile, one reserved for their carefree days of childhood and dreams. It was almost relieved, as if he had just been told he can rest after exhausting himself, like he was saying finally, this is the end. Jiang Cheng's felt like all the breath had been taken out of him.

He could only watch in horror as the Stygian Tiger Seal split in half within Wei Wuxian's grip, the power emanating from it blinding him for a split second, and then the two halves dropping to the ground. Suddenly, he remembered a half-forgotten conversation.

("I'm trying to find a way to destroy it. The Jins keep bothering me for it, and I would rather them not having it." Wei Wuxian complained, practically lying on Jiang Cheng's desk. He paid him no mind, eyes assessing paperwork that unfortunately came with the new position of Sect Leader.

"Why don't you just break it?" Jiang Cheng asked, only half paying attention as he reviewed statistics and complaints.

"Silly Jiang Cheng, if only it was that easy! If I just broke it, then the power would backfire on me, and I would be as good as dead! It needs to be in a controlled environment...")

Slowly, he turned to see that all the corpses had halted in their movement. As if a button had been pressed, they spun around and faced their master. All at once, they began moving, running at inhuman speeds to be the first to tear and bite and kill who they now saw as their target - Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Cheng stared in shock, as he was sure many others were doing, before he began to move. Dirt dug into his nails and shifted under his feet as he desperately tried to climb the short distance that was between him and his brother. He fell, at one point, the mud giving way under his shoes. He got back up and tried again. He cursed himself for being too slow, too human, while the undead were already biting at Wei Wuxian's heels.

Wei Wuxian was still smiling, still happy, while the first corpse got hold of him. Jiang Cheng wanted to get hold of him and shake him frantically, shout at him and lock him away so he never has any ideas like this again. He told himself that he would do that, as long as he could hurry hurry hurry be faster they're going to get him he's going to die-

The flute, Chenqing, was dumped in the dirt in front of him. It was clogged with mud and blood and crud, the proud flute having been reduced to a stick in the dirt. Jiang Cheng grabbed it with his mud stained fingers, shoving it in his belt, not caring if it actually stayed there or if he missed and it rolled away. It was the weapon that brung about thousands of people's ends just by existing: his brother-in-law, his sister, and his brother. It was Wei Wuxian’s weapon, though, and he would need it to fight.

The next thing he grabbed was Wei Wuxian’s unprotected arm. It already had scratches on it, the sleeves of his robes worn and torn, shredding to pieces at his touch. Moving his hand, he reached out again and encircled his hand around Wei Wuxian’s thin wrist. His hand encompassed it, and he still had space on his fingers left to spare. The wrist was warm, though, reassuring him that his brother was alive, and he was not too late.

Afraid that he would cause injury, he brought himself closer to Wei Wuxian instead pulling Wei Wuxian to him. He didn't want to risk the chance that a corpse would tear parts of his brother’s body when he would pull him towards him, as the undead had already made their claim on the battered body of his brother.

The corpses had them surrounded, the little space suffocating, the bodies spilling over one another to get to the prize. He held the said prize close to him, unwilling to let go of him ever again. The undead tore at his clothes, teeth and nails and hands each wanting to shred him to pieces. He sliced at them, hacking wildly with both his sword and his whip, his strength bolstered each time he felt a new cut slash into him.

Distantly, he could see the many armies miles away, simply standing there, watching. Jiang Cheng wanted to scream at them to do something, anything, to help, rather than stand there like a bunch of idiots. He faltered, though, when he realised that the corpses were doing their job. Why would they help the enemy, that they're seeking to destroy, from being destroyed?

His army knew he was there, and were the only ones who tried to fight their way in. The act was meaningless, though. Nothing could get past the crowd of wild corpses, and they soon quickly realised that, and resorted to screaming and crying for him to get out.

In a never ending loop, he slashed at all the bodies that came near them, fiercely defending what he had left. Between sinking his blade into a corpses’ head and kicking one down close to him, he realised the body in his grasp was frighteningly still. His head shot down to look at Wei Wuxian who was leaning on him and, thankfully, he was still alive. Shock was evident on his features, to his wide eyes and gaping mouth, the cursed smile gone. Bruises and bites and scratches littered the skin that Jiang Cheng could see, but he couldn't tell if any of them were fatal. Wei Wuxian clung to him like a child does to its mother, like he couldn't tell if anything was real.

Not faltering, he struck down each fierce corpse, feeling his spiritual power and energy slowly ebb away witch each swing of his sword. Fortunately, the Stygian Tiger Seal started to lose its power. Without anyone controlling them, the corpses began to drop like flies, becoming weaker and weaker until people started fighting again. By then, there were only a hundred or so left, and none were bothering him.

Ducking down so no one would notice him, he cupped Wei Wuxian’s face, attempting to calm himself as he confirmed that he's here he's real he's alive I have him- He wanted to scream and shout at him (what was he doing!? Was he trying to get himself killed? (Yes, yes he was, and it’s my fault)) but right now, all he could do was pull his brother closer, wrapping his arms around him. Slowly, his brother responded in turn, weak arms cradling him like they did when they were younger.

Jiang Cheng stuffed his face in his brother’s neck, like a child wanting comfort, tangling his muddy fingers in Wei Wuxian’s hair. He smelt like dirt and blood and decay, yet there was something hauntingly familiar in the scent, something that made Jiang Cheng want to curl up and have Wei Wuxian hold him forever.

Gently, Wei Wuxian pulled away, soft eyes examining his face and soothing fingers lightly running over a cut on his forehead. He appeared shocked, still, and on edge, as if he expected Jiang Cheng to suddenly blow up in his face and kill him. And perhaps he did, but Jiang Cheng was feeling too scared and petrified from seeing his brother attempt to kill himself to even mutter a word against him.

“Why...did you save me?” Wei Wuxian's voice was hoarse and quiet, barely a whisper, the words shaky. Jiang Cheng remembered that same voice singing songs to him when he couldn't sleep, giving gentle reassurances when his parents had a fight, laughing and making jokes when he was feeling down.

There were so many answers to the question - I wanted revenge to be from my own hands. I don’t want you to die. If you die, it has to be by my terms. You promised you'd stay by me. You don't deserve this. She wouldn't want us to be apart. We are family. I love you, I love you, I love you. - and Jiang Cheng wanted to tell him each one, when his pride didn't cloud his thoughts and make him falter.

“You're my brother.” He answered in the end, sniffing as a burn suddenly appeared behind his eyes. I love you, he didn't say.

Wei Wuxian stared at him, his whole body frozen, before he flung himself at Jiang Cheng, and then they were back to clinging desperately to each other as if the other was going to be taken away.

For him, he was. Wei Wuxian was going to be taken away from him if he didn't figure out something. Noticing that all the corpses had been killed and that the cultivators were slowly coming closer, Jiang Cheng pulled away from the embrace, trying not to miss the warmth so much. A plan forming in his mind, he led Wei Wuxian to a pile of corpses while Wei Wuxian complied, confused.

“Be still,” Jiang Cheng ordered, knowing that it was almost impossible for Wei Wuxian, but it was required if his plan was going to work. He laid his brother down onto the bloody mud and covered him up with corpses until he wasn't noticeable. He felt like he was on autopilot, or that a blanket was covering his mind, and that he was not really experiencing what he was doing, as if someone had taken over his body.

After, he sat down in the mud, close by but not suspiciously near Wei Wuxian, surrounded by dead bodies as he prepared to wait for the others to find him. Remembering the flute, he took it out, rolling it in his hand. It had blood and mud on it, with strange small teeth marks decorating the end. Using a clean part of his sleeve, he tried to clean it, which only resulted in getting more dirt on him. He persisted anyway.

When shadows fell over him, he looked up. Each Sect Leader was present, with Jin Guangyao with Jin Guangshan and Lan Qiren with Lan XiChen, Lan WangJi suspiciously absent. Nie Huaisang hadn't came to the battle, whether it was for the reason he claimed of refusing to fight a person he apparently saw as a friend or because he just didn't want to, Jiang Cheng didn't know, but Nie Mingjue was alone.

“So, where is he?” Jin Guangshan uncaringly asked, making a disgusted face at all the dirt and bodies around them. Jiang Cheng stared at him, knowing he had red and puffy eyes but not caring enough to look away. He knew he made a pitiful sight but he couldn't find it within him to be bothered. “Well?” He said when Jiang Cheng didn't answer.

“Your stupid Seal is lost and broken! You won't find it!” Jiang Cheng snarled, his voice breaking at the words. Everyone knew the true reason the Jin clan participated in the battle, and why they attacked Wei Wuxian. The whole war was basically because of the Jin’s greed for wanting the Stygian Tiger Seal, and the reason suddenly seemed utterly unfair to him. His brother almost died for a stupid Seal.

The burning at the back of his eyes got worse, and soon, a tear dripped down his cheek, and then two, and then three. He rubbed harshly at his face, ignoring how the cuts on his face ached at the contact.

“He's dead,” He almost sobbed, the words coming out as a whisper. “He's dead and he's not coming back.” He's alive and barely a few feet away from you.

“Torn apart by his own creations,” Lan Qiren muttered, one hand stroking his beard. “Karma, I suppose.” Jiang Cheng sent a burning glare at him, his respect for the elder washed away by the comment. He swallowed down the venomous words that appeared in his mouth, barely refraining from muttering them.

The Jins quickly made a retreat, soon after, claiming all the goods they could find in Wei Wuxian’s residence. It wasn't his home; Lotus Pier was the one that claimed that title. There wasn't much, and all the inventions they wished to have were half done at best.

“Sorry, kid.” Nie Mingjue roughly said before he made his own leave. “I know that you were close with him, but this is war, and he had done many terrible things.” Wrong, Jiang Cheng thought, and he thought Nie Mingjue would be the first to suspect that. All the information of what Wei Wuxian had done wrong had been told from the Jins, and everyone knew not to trust them.

“I can't imagine how hard it must be for you,” Lan XiChen said, Lan Qiren already having left. Lan XiChen placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Jiang Cheng saw more than felt it. “I know you treated him as a brother, and he the same to you. I don't know what I would do if my brother…” He trailed off. Lan XiChen’s brows furrowed. “I would do anything for him.” He met Lan XiChen eyes. There was a sureness in there, an overwhelming dedication, and a small questioning look.

Jiang Cheng glanced at him, then looked towards the mound of corpses that hid Wei Wuxian, then moved his eyes away again. Lan XiChen followed his gaze, his eyes searching for what he was missing, but thankfully he was left confused. Jiang Cheng wouldn't know what to say or do if Wei Wuxian was found.

“If you ever need any help, you can always rely on Gusu Lan.” Lan XiChen offered, smiling gently despite their horrendous surroundings. “And…” The Gusu Lan Sect Leader glanced towards the pile of corpses, as if he came to a realisation. Jiang Cheng felt dread pool in his stomach, getting ready to fight for his brother. “If you need something doing or something hiding from the other sects, then we can always help. It is forbidden to tell secrets, after all.” Lan XiChen smiled brightly.

Jiang Cheng was left alone, sitting on sloshy mud that sunk when the slightest of pressure was put onto it, corpses surrounding him, and a brother hidden underneath said pile of corpses. The Burial Mounds was always known for its oppressive darkness and the constant gloom that it proudly carried with it, but right now, it was looking a bit brighter in the morning sun.

Chapter Text

For a brief, horrendous moment, he had thought Wei Wuxian was dead after he had pulled the corpses off of him. His brother was simply laying there, expression peaceful and eyes closed, the gauntness of his face making it look like he actually was wasting away, one with the pile of corpses. In that short few seconds, a multitude of thoughts ran through his head. There was a lurching in his chest, as if someone had just punched him. His breaths peaked, and the quickly draining adrenaline spiked up again. Denial shot through his head, and frighteningly, a small bit of relief, saying no one can hurt him now. It made his guilt pile up.

As Wei Wuxian’s eyes flickered open, all his thoughts collapsed. His whole body filled with relief, pooling over to thankfulness. His fear still lingered, sticking to him like an unwanted virus, whispering words of his brother's death, gone like the rest of his family. He had no need to fear, he reassured himself, his brother was here. His brother would protect him. Although, at this moment in time, he would be the one who was doing the protecting.

While Jiang Cheng helped his brother sit up, the other cultivation sects worked in the distance. They were pillaging, no other word for it. Men raided the late Wens abodes, the flimsy houses cluttering down in a heap one by one as they were overwhelmed by weapons and fists and unhindered hate. The cave Wei Wuxian had lived in was clearly the hotspot, many hundreds of people working their way up or plundering the cave already. The fields of plants the Wens had miraculously begun to grow were quickly stomped down until no other living thing remained.

The two of them watched as everything that Wei Wuxian made was destroyed.

All of the Wens were undoubtedly dead, gone like the wind. They didn’t even need to question what would happen with their dead bodies. Left to rot, probably, like everything else in the Burial Mounds.

Wei Wuxian became frighteningly still in his arms. His eyes were vacant, the little light he had left drowned out by sorrow and guilt. Jiang Cheng swallowed down his own guilt.

He knew who was in the Burial Mounds - only the elderly and the young, people who had little ties to the Wens, who only wanted to rest without the crimes of their family burdening them - and yet he said nothing against the accusations of Wei Wuxian raising an army to reclaim Wen rule. He was blinded by his own grief and anger, incented by the rumours that stormed rampant. He didn’t want to face the truth. And now all that Wei Wuxian wished to protect was dead.

He wondered what would have happened if he did speak up. If he criticized the Jins of their blatant lies, revealed all their cruel actions, denounced Jin Guangshan’s name. If he stuck by his brother through thick and thin, not leaving him to rot away in the very place he had lost his cheery, bright brother. The place that had given him a tainted, melancholy fragment of the same boy back in return. If he had taken in the Wen remnants in thanks for their help during the burning of Lotus Pier, not leaving them to the cold merciless claws of the cultivation world. 

Would things be different?

Perhaps they would be. Perhaps the Wens would still be living. Perhaps they would have been thriving in Lotus Pier, blooming with the lotus flowers, bringing joy to everyone around them. Perhaps his brother would have still been with him, by his side as his right-hand man, as they promised years ago. Perhaps he would have gotten his sunny brother back as time healed his wounds, and not poisoned his mind as the Burial Mounds did. Perhaps his brother would still be happy. 

Perhaps his sister would be alive. 

But this was not that fantasy. Nothing could change his actions or allow him to go back to redo them. The Wens were dead. His sister was dead. His brother was almost dead, too. That was reality, and Jiang Cheng was never one to linger on what could have been. All he could do now was protect what little he had left. He flinched as he noticed some people glancing at them, afraid that his fears would come alive, that someone would see Wei Wuxian, not quite healthy but definitely alive. The Burial Mounds, however, gave great spots for protection. It was almost as if the Burial Mounds was trying to give back the kindness Wei Wuxian gave to it, masking its master from prying eyes.

The ground was uneven, worn from battle and sitting depressively in mounds, the small hills concealing them from sight.  Black bamboo also grew out of the ground beside them, as tall as mountains, providing ample cover to hide behind. It was a small safe haven, for now. The vengeance-driven cultivators couldn’t see them, yet there was the danger that someone will soon. He turned his eyes to his brother.

Wei Wuxian sat there, his face darkened by the gloom of the Burial Mounds, highlighting the sharp edges of his face. His bones poked out of his skin, the thin layer stretching around them. He looked like he was dead.

Jiang Cheng nudged him slightly. “Wei Wuxian,” His voice sounded hoarse as if he hadn’t talked for quite a while, and his throat protested, aching horribly. Wei Wuxian didn’t react. “Wei Ying,” He tried again, but still there was no answer. Sighing, he nudged him again. It didn’t do anything. Wei Wuxian was a hollow doll.

They needed to get out. This was a perfect time, while everyone else was distracted by their victory and destroyed everything to their heart's content. Little would notice him going home. Those who did would surely understand, remembering the times when Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were mentioned in the same sentence without the word ‘hate’ between their names. Or, maybe, they would not bother to think about it at all. It was the perfect moment to sneak Wei Wuxian to Lotus Pier.

But then what? Hide him forever? Wei Wuxian was not a person who was made to be caged. He never was and never will be. The sun cannot be trapped, no matter how many people try. Wei Wuxian's whole being was a protest against that, his personality too big for his body, his ideas too big for the world. No, Wei Wuxian can never be hidden forever, but he can be hidden for a short amount of time. When the time comes when he is finally revealed, Jiang Cheng would deal with what comes after, when he is hopefully more prepared.

"Wei Ying," He tried again, his voice sounding broken even to his own ears. He was tired, exhausted even. His forehead fell on his brother's shoulder. He could feel the bones even under the layer of fabric, poking and prodding out, making it an uncomfortable pillow. His heart, which was already shattered, was crushed to dust. "Please." Jiang Cheng stared at Wei Wuxian's hair, the strands caked in mud. If it dried, then it would be hard to wash it out, if it could at all. It was an unusual thing to focus on, but small things were calming. He could imagine the fight Wei Wuxian would have about it, arguing to just leave the mud where it is, instead of cutting his hair as any sane person would do.

There was a slight movement in his peripheral. Slowly, hesitantly, a hand slid up his lap and hooked a finger around his own. Like the rest of him, the fingers were bony, the skin straining over the bone. They were frail, and Jiang Cheng was sure they would snap under the slightest pressure. He was afraid of even touching them. Wei Wuxian's head leaned against his own, and he felt the steady breathing of him, his shoulders raising slightly with the movement.

This was wrong. It was not supposed to be this way. Wei Wuxian was not supposed to be comforting him while he himself was barely there and was the one who needed protecting the most. It was supposed to be the other way round. Jiang Cheng was meant to be the older brother for once, the one who cradled Wei Wuxian’s body to him, the one who gave him soft assurances.

As he soaked up Wei Wuxian’s attentions, however, he realised he needed this. He needed the respite after having spent months feeling like he was incredibly and totally alone, with no one to help him in sight. His brother, off running rampant in a faraway place. His sister, married to a man he once hated, and then dead and gone in the next moment. In some ways, he was still that child before Lotus Pier burned, itching for his family's comfort. To finally have his brother back was a relief.

Succumbing to the familial contact, he relaxed. He ran his own fingers over Wei Wuxian's knuckles, each one feeling like a hill until finally, he decided they must move until it was too late.

Jiang Cheng pulled away from Wei Wuxian, trying not to dwell on the coldness that the loss of contact left him. He stood up on shaky legs, attempting not to step on any of the corpses that were scattered around them. The putrid smell of rotting bodies wafted in the air, making each breath a tackle. Jiang Cheng was sure the smell would cling to him multiple days after the battle.

"Do you have any big wounds?" He asked Wei Wuxian, kneeling by his side. For a second he was afraid that Wei Wuxian would become unresponsive again, with his blank stare and motionless body, as if he didn't understand the words. Thankfully, Wei Wuxian slowly shook his head but offered no other reaction.

Biting his lip, he wondered if he should believe him or not. Wei Wuxian had always been one to hide or lie about fatal injuries, claiming he could handle it. But right now was not the best time to check, nor the best place, and so he would have to believe him. Besides, he doubted he had the right medicine or skill to heal a big wound if he had one. The only thing he could do was to take him to see a doctor as soon as possible.

Gently, he took one of Wei Wuxian's arms and put it around his shoulder, and put one of his own around Wei Wuxian's waist. Hoisting him up, he let his mind focus on the task ahead: getting Wei Wuxian to Lotus Pier as quick as possible without anyone noticing. He knew it was going to be hard before he even started. Gentle was not one of the words he would use to describe himself, not soft or kind. In fact, he was the exact opposite, relying on harsh pushes and rough words to convey what he wanted. 

Wei Wuxian didn’t need that right now. Wei Wuxian needed gentleness, and softness, and kindness. Everything he was not. Everything his sister was. But his sister wasn’t upon the earth any longer, and he was all Wei Wuxian had left. He would become what his brother needed before he even had any thoughts of revealing Wei Wuxian’s presence to another gentler, softer, kinder person. He didn’t need Lan XiChen’s offer. He didn’t need anyone’s help. 

First, though, they needed to get away from the Burial Mounds. They both stumbled down hills, tripping over mud and dead plants and bodies. Wei Wuxian was limp in his hold; the only thing that was holding him up was Jiang Cheng’s arm around his waist. He was a heavy weight, a burden upon Jiang Cheng's shoulders that would surely cause many problems later on, but he refused to let go. The man remained unresponsive, shut tight within his shell, unwilling to open up. His eyes were unfocused, glazed over, as if a sheet of glass was covering them.

It was a slow journey, one that Jiang Cheng was ready to give up. 

After ducking past many wandering cultivators and dragging Wei Wuxian when his weak knees gave out under him, they managed to get under the cover of trees just outside the Burial Mounds, the darkness of the place following them and clinging to their bones. Jiang Cheng felt no loss when leaving the cursed place, heaving a sigh relief as the resentful energy retreated and fresh air gathered in his lungs. Wei Wuxian, who had made the inhabitable Burial Mounds his living space and cultivated friendships there, turned to look back at their path, his shoulders drooping and his eyes mournful. Jiang Cheng wondered if he would ever be happy again. It seemed so long ago when he had last seen Wei Wuxian smile.

He was happy to give Wei Wuxian time to lament while he unceremoniously dropped him by a tree, stretching his sore shoulders and having a rest himself. The danger had passed, as everyone was centred around the Burial Mounds, and would surely not leave for hours yet. From there, it would be easy to get to Lotus Pier undetected. 

That gave Wei Wuxian no excuse, however, to suddenly stand up with the help of the tree and clumsily shuffle back in the direction of the Burial Mounds. Jiang Cheng immediately shot up.

“Where do you think you’re going!?” He shouted without thinking, before he winced at his tone. Already he was failing at being gentle and soft and kind, his anger burning eternally in his chest, the first weapon he picked up. Wei Wuxian didn’t answer, grasping at the tree even while his fingers cut and bled on the sharp bark, shakily stumbling back the way they arrived. Jiang Cheng raced up to him, grasping his wrist and pulling him away from his support. It was easy to do, so effortless that it surprised Jiang Cheng. He didn't know why, though. He had been pulling Wei Wuxian only minutes before; the man only a sack of skin and bones, weighing less than a bag of potatoes. Wei Wuxian fell against his chest, his body slamming into Jiang Cheng's. It didn't even cause an ache.

“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng asked, softer this time, letting go of his wrist and instead cradling his upper arms. Wei Wuxian stared at the gloomy Burial Mounds, his eyes desperate and anxious, struggling in his hold with jittery movements. He refused to let go, his stubbornness like steel, his decision immovable like a mountain.

When Wei Wuxian eventually tired himself out and finally understood that Jiang Cheng was not letting go of him, he slumped in his hold, short, panicked gasps shaking his entire body. He knew his brother was not in the right mindset at the moment, his mind plagued by the deaths of those he felt responsible for, the insanity of demonic cultivation crawling within his body like worms. Despite knowing this, worry overrode his mind, and he began frantically searching Wei Wuxian's body to see what was wrong. Whatever troubled Wei Wuxian, though, was not on his body. Wei Wuxian continued panicking, short nails clawing at Jiang Cheng's arms. This new Wei Wuxian scared him. He would even take the unresponsive, shut off version over this. He couldn't handle his unpredictable moods. 

"What-What's wrong?" Jiang Cheng asked, ignoring how Wei Wuxian's nails drew blood from his arms, digging into past injuries that he had gotten from his mad battle with the hundreds of corpses. "Wei Wuxian!" He wrapped an arm around his brother's waist when his grasp began to loosen, unwilling to release him. 

"Let go!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed, his voice a weak croak, falling down to the ground in an attempt to slither out of his arms. Jiang Cheng went down with him. "Let me go!" 

"Not if you don't tell me what's wrong first!" Jiang Cheng growled, his patience snipping at the edges, as it always did when Wei Wuxian was involved. No matter if Wei Wuxian was the happiest he could possibly be or so upset his mind was unstable, he always managed to wear down his patience quicker than anyone else ever could. Not even Wen Chao's monumental irritability could rival his brother's. He loved him for it, for the familiarity it brought him. 

When Wei Wuxian hit him in the face, it was the last straw. "Wei Wuxian, stop it this instant!" He sounded like a parent scolding their child. Nonetheless, it worked, Wei Wuxian going slack under him, eyes focused on him and red-faced from the workout. He was lightly panting, but not like the harsh gasps from before. Whatever Jiang Cheng did, it brought Wei Wuxian out of his self-imposed exile in his mind, the evidence of insanity gone. 

"A-Cheng," Wei Wuxian said, the intimacy of the words shocking him, causing him to flinch back. The man below him smiled, a splinter of what was once a brilliant teasing smile, pale lips pulled upwards slightly. He waited with bated breath. "You sound just like Madam Yu." Jiang Cheng stared at him for a minute, in which Wei Wuxian stared back, the smile stubbornly sticking to his face. Finally, Jiang Cheng huffed, his head falling on Wei Wuxian's chest. He felt more than saw the chest sink, similar to that of laughter, yet he could hear no chuckles. 

He was cured of his momentary insanity, but Jiang Cheng knew it would come rushing back in the foreseeable future. For now, though, he was alright. 

"What's wrong?" At his words, Wei Wuxian seemed to remember why he had originally been panicking, shifting where he lay but not renewing his struggle. Jiang Cheng would have knocked him out if he began again. 

"I need to go back." He froze, baffled by the answer, wondering if he heard right. Wei Wuxian had come out with many preposterous things in the past, but this was one of his highest and stupidest moments. Surely he knew the only thing that awaited him in Burial Mounds was his death? And possibly Jiang Cheng's too, as he was the one who claimed he was dead. His lying would be found out, and the Jins, thirsty little beasts they are, would spare no time ripping into him and tearing him to shreds.

While Jiang Cheng would have no problem dying for his brother under normal circumstances, say, a frightening fight with hundreds of corpses to protect his brother or sacrificing himself to keep his brother safe, but this was not a normal situation. He was not going to die because of his brother's stupidity. 

"No," He instantly rejected, watching as Wei Wuxian's expression grew pitiful. He could practically hear his brother's heart shattering. His own squirmed with it. Wei Wuxian had always been strong, though, if not physically then mentally. One of the many things Jiang Cheng envied him for. His expression hardened, his grey eyes glimmering like steel, determination on his brow. Wei Wuxian was never one to abide by orders, and this time was no different. 

"I'm going." Wei Wuxian attempted to shuffle out from under him. 

"No, you aren't." Jiang Cheng easily pinned him down. He almost leant his weight on him in an attempt to keep him still but remembered the many bruises and cuts that Wei Wuxian surely kept quiet about from the corpses. They had probably opened and bled quite badly due to Wei Wuxian's earlier struggle, and there was no saying what they looked like now. His worst fears sprung to mind, eager to cause him to dread, but he pushed them to a small corner of his mind, locked away until he was in the right place to assess the damage. He couldn't make Wei Wuxian strip in the middle of the forest, however hilarious it would be. He reminded himself that he needed to get to Lotus Pier. Quickly. Preferably with Wei Wuxian. 

"I am!" Despite his best efforts, Wei Wuxian's attempts did nothing and only left him tired in the grass. Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow at him, a frown tugging at his lips. For a moment, Wei Wuxian looked truly angry, becoming the fearsome Yiling Patriarch that men cowered and ran away from at the faintest of mentions. His eyes glowed an evil blood red, the shadows creeping towards him, becoming the demon he was said to be. Anyone who did not know him personally would be scared out of their wits.

Jiang Cheng was not that person. 

He had grown up with Wei Wuxian. He had seen his ups and his downs, and everything in between. He had seen Wei Wuxian angry when he was a child, pouty lips and cheeks flushed red, as a teen, vicious glare and lips thinned, and as an adult, the true horror of the Yiling Patriarch. When he saw Wei Wuxian's angry expression, all he could think about was the cute child that petulantly stomped his feet with his pinchable cheeks ballooned into a pout. The look did nothing to him. He knew he was safe from Wei Wuxian's ire, knew that Wei Wuxian would never send resentful energy or a corpse his way. 

"No." He carefully sat on Wei Wuxian's waist, not daring to put his weight on top of his brother's body. He was afraid that it would snap with how thin he was. "You are not going. Why do you even want to go back anyway?" Wei Wuxian stared up at him in defiance, his mouth sewed shut. "Fine, then, be quiet. I'm happy dragging you to Lotus Pier whether you like it or not." 

As he was about to stand, Wei Wuxian grabbed onto his robe, weakly trying to pull him down again. "Stop, Jiang Cheng." Slowly, he began to sit again, this time beside his brother rather than on him, trusting him not to attempt to run away again. Jiang Cheng would catch him either way. Wei Wuxian wore a troubled expression, brows furrowed and teeth chewing at his lip. It was his signature expression for contemplating whether to share his burdens. Wei Wuxian never liked to share his troubles, always willing to take on everything he could without asking for help, even if it destroyed him (and I let him; when he came to me I pushed him away). He would take on the world if he could. 

"What do you want from there?" He asked again, pulling Wei Wuxian out of his thoughts.

Wei Wuxian stared at him with a complicated expression. "A Wen." He said at last. 

"All the Wens are dead, Wei Wuxian." Jiang Cheng growled, ripping out of his brother's grasp, jumping up from his seat. Perhaps the insanity had not been cleared from his brother's brain after all. "They're dead and gone. The Sects had killed them." Wei Wuxian flinched at his harsh words. Jiang Cheng could practically see him slightly retreating back into his shell. His brother, however, was far more interested in finding whatever he needed rather than withdrawing into his own mind again, insanity taking over. 

"No, they haven't. There is a boy - the child you saw before. I hid him in a tree. Please, Jiang Cheng, I need to go back, you don't have to follow. And I-I promise, I won't ever bother you again - please." His words were vulnerable, his expression even more so. Jiang Cheng faintly remembered a toddler clinging to his leg, and the proud smile Wei Wuxian presented him with. He never knew Wei Wuxian cared so much. (Of course he does, he would walk away from me in favour of a Wen, would try to save someone without thinking of the consequences). 

Jiang Cheng doesn't want Wei Wuxian to never bother him again. He didn't want that at all, and he wondered where Wei Wuxian picked up such a ludicrous idea when he had literally just saved him so they wouldn't be apart. But despite Wei Wuxian's pleadings, he was not about to let him walk into certain death. 

"Wei Wuxian, we can't go now. The Jins will be there for hours yet, and the Lans will surely want to set up summoning rituals to check if you are truly dead. We can play off your spirit not turning up at the rituals, but we can't hide you in broad daylight." Wei Wuxian looked heartbroken by his logic, but still readily defiant, willing to give his entire life to save a child. Jiang Cheng was stumped by his brother. He knew Wei Wuxian would go to the ends of the earth until he had the child in his arms, safe and protected. Even if Jiang Cheng tied him to a tree or shackled him in the deepest dungeons of Lotus Pier, it would do nothing to stop Wei Wuxian on his quest. 

The only thing he could do was roll along with it. 

"Okay," Jiang Cheng began. "I'll take you to Lotus Pier, and you'll stay there, while I go back and get the kid. Deal?" Wei Wuxian looked hesitant to accept, but Jiang Cheng would not offer any other alternatives. He would drag Wei Wuxian back to Lotus Pier kicking and screaming if he had to. Seeing this, Wei Wuxian reluctantly nodded, a small smile growing on his face. 

Wei Wuxian was compliant after that, as obedient as a puppy. He stepped onto Sandu without a word of protest, though Jiang Cheng had to hold him as his momentary strength left him along with his fight. Halfway back, he had fallen asleep, snoozing on Jiang Cheng's shoulder in a way only he could. He didn't think the world would find him quite as scary if they knew the terrifying Yiling Patriarch drooled while he slept. Needless to say, Jiang Cheng was fighting with the urge to push him off the whole way back. 

When they arrived at Lotus Pier, the grounds were empty due to most of his forces being at the Burial Mounds. Younger disciples were laying far off, too far off to see Jiang Cheng sneak Wei Wuxian into Lotus Pier. He deftly avoided servants on his way to Wei Wuxian's room, blending in with the shadows and lurking in the corners. He heaved a sigh of relief as he placed Wei Wuxian on his bed, the man still deeply asleep, feeling like a boulder had been lifted from his shoulders.

Wei Wuxian was successfully back home. 

And now he only needed to get his brat. 

Ignoring the enticing call of his own bed, he gave one last look to Wei Wuxian and left the room. No servants dared to approach the room Jiang Cheng had so carefully tidied, not wanting anyone to mess up Wei Wuxian's things for when he came back. And if Wei Wuxian had at least some common sense, then he would not leave the room, if he woke up in the time Jiang Cheng took at all. He was beyond tired himself, he shuddered to think of how exhausted Wei Wuxian was. 

Yawning, he mounted Sandu and took off again. The trip to the Burial Mounds was by no means a short one, about half a day's worth, but was not so long it tired him out, like trips to Lanling or Gusu often did. With his low spiritual energy and tiredness, however, it took much longer than he expected. A quarter way through he resigned himself that he was not going to make it with how exhausted he was, the weight of it pulling him down. It was dangerous to fly any longer, and so he landed by an inn and booked a room to sleep in for a few hours. It would do no good if he tried to smuggle a child out of Burial Mounds while half-asleep. 

He woke up later than he had meant to, but had enough energy to quickly propel himself towards the Burial Mounds, rushing to find his brother's child. 

Burial Mounds was empty when he arrived. Upon seeing the destruction that the Siege had caused, he was suddenly thankful that Wei Wuxian had not come with him, otherwise, he would be reduced to a hollow shell again. The devastation the Sects left was insulting, mocking those who used to live there. The wood for the houses were kicked around, their farms smashed and unplanted, their meagre belongings thrown every which way. Jiang Cheng didn't even want to think of what had happened to their bodies, staying clear of the Demon Slaughtering Cave. 

The tree Wei Wuxian had used was unmistakable. It was one of the only trees in the Burial Mounds, big and hulking, looming over everything with a sinister air. He reluctantly approached it, searching for places that Wei Wuxian would hide a child in. 

There was a small alcove in the bottom, nestled between the large menacing roots poking out of the ground, masked by hanging black moss. A small sliver of black fabric hung out of it, unmistakable as Wei Wuxian's own. His heart lightening, he peered into the hole. 

There was no child. 

Chapter Text

It was not possible for Lan WangJi to go to the Siege of Burial Mounds. 

He didn’t like that utterly devastating, terribly realistic fact. He hated it with a passion, much more than he has ever hated anything else before. This was a burning hate. What once started as a small kindling, unassuming, glowing embers spread like a forest fire, now blazing in his veins and setting his whole body aflame. His heart leapt out of his chest, smouldering angrily, urging him to run, run, run , to Wei Wuxian’s side, protect him at all costs. If he did not, then the fire would burn him from the inside out, and he would be reduced to pitiful ashes, brushed away by the wind. 

It seemed that was what his fate would be. 

Days ago, he had stood tall and strong, fueled by the weakened, unreactive shell of a boy he had once, and still does, love. His fire had been burning bright, then, brilliant enough to rival the sun. He did not care that it was his own family he was fighting against. He had fought for what was right, for what he believed in, as they had taught him time and time again. Numbly, he wondered why they appeared shocked when he had bared his sword.

And the fire had won. It scorched everything in its path, uncontrollable, until he settled with the knowledge that his love was safe. With that truth, the fire was tamed, settled, barely a candle. The Elders then proceeded to blow it out. Lan WangJi was left in the dark, without a light to guide him, searching for some spark to guide his way. Foolishly, it had led him back to the Cloud Recesses, the white illumination of the mountain retreat blinding. 

Thirty-three lashings with the discipline whip was what the punishment was. Thirty-three cuts. Thirty-three Elders. Lan WangJi had counted up to thirty-three with each crack of the whip, satisfaction curling in his stomach, the pain numb from the pleasant knowledge that the Elders did not get what they want: Wei Wuxian’s head. They thought that it was a punishment, that he would be ashamed of the resulting scars. He refused to. These thirty-three lashes could be burned into his soul and he would still carry them proudly, showing that he had done what was right, that he had protected the one he loved. They were gifts. Awards. Trophies.

The embers that the Elders thought they had snuffled out were still persistently glowing, burning against all odds. With the thirty-three strikes the embers burned hotter and hotter, one slash after the other lighting the fiery flame, feeding it more and more and more. The fire accepted it like a hungry raging beast. 

It burned for one reason only: for Wei Wuxian. The thought of his first and only love was his fuel, stroking his fire and urging it on.

And then, with Lan XiChen’s painful arrival on an early summer morning, water rained down on his proud and strong fire. It happened before Lan XiChen even finished his sentence - “A Siege is being planned-” . The flames pittered out, in a long, slow, torturous timespan, that felt like it lasted years instead of seconds. Only dust was left. 

That morning, Lan WangJi had automatically gotten up from his bed. He changed from his sleeping robe, into a snowy white garment embraced by blue clouds, as he did any other day. He fixed his hair, put a crown atop his head in an up-do, and gathered some talismans, his sword and his guqin. The injuries on his back were not burning, but rather freezing, the cold settling on his skin and clutching him with icy claws. He ignored the pain, ignored how he had little strength, ignored how it was not possible, and the certain reality that he was not going to make it in time . It didn’t matter, though. He had best the Elders once, he could do it again. This time, he was not fuelled by fire, but instead by the hollow hole in his chest, gapingly empty, a yawning black void.

He never made it past the door. He struggled, using BiChen as a crutch, unwilling to give in to the small part of his mind that teasingly chanted, you’re going to fail, you’re going to fail, you’re going to fail . He gritted his teeth past the pain and moved on. Lan XiChen was there, waiting for him. With a grim expression and sorrow weighing doing his lips, his brother looked older than he was, more like the Sect Leader rather than the brother he always promised to be. 

“You’re not going.” Lan XiChen said, his words harsh and blunt, a finality that he refused to change. Lan WangJi tried anyway. They were brothers born of stubbornness, their very creation came from their father’s unwillingness to turn in his lover, and the perseverance ran in the family much to Lan Qiren’s ire. But no matter how much he stared defiantly, or frowned angrily, or even when tears pooled in his eyes, Lan XiChen refused to bend. The last option was to push past him. The thought brought him too much joy than he liked. 

He didn’t want to harm his brother. While other families had fights or feuds or sibling games, Lan WangJi and Lan XiChen never had the thought. He had never laid a hand upon his brother, or vice versa, and so the thought of hurting him was a foreign one. He was angry. Terribly angry, so much so that it consumed his insides and fought with his logic and memories, controlling him like a puppet. He was furious that Lan XiChen entertained the thought of hurting what was most precious to him. That he would hurt what was most precious to him, would lead a group of men to rally against and become the exact monsters Lan WangJi was protecting Wei Wuxian from. He knew Lan XiChen was sorry, that he was knee-deep in guilt and distress, and that he would come back changed. Lan XiChen was terrified of having to come back and tell his younger brother that the love of his life was dead.

Lan WangJi refused to let him go through that. And so, with Lan XiChen blocking his way, he pushed. And pushed. And pushed. And pushed. Guilt gnawed at him with each strike against his brother, but he knew what he was doing was right, was so certain of the fact that it was engraved into his mind. But Lan WangJi, burdened with the weight of thirty-three trophies, was of no match to a perfectly healthy Lan XiChen, hardened by his will. He was weak, and slow, and clumsy. His sword was not steady in his hand, the blade shaking like a leaf, and was easy to nudge away. His legs were sluggish beneath him, and it felt like he was standing with weights attached to his back.

He was vulnerable. Lan XiChen didn't hesitate to take advantage. 

Bichen was knocked away with barely a push from Shuoyue. The force of it swept him away, his feet fumbling to stay standing. As soon as Lan XiChen gripped his forearms, his legs went crumbling beneath him, traitorously giving up on him. His brother caught him, strong arms embracing him and stopping him from hitting the ground, mindful of his bleeding welts. Tears gathering in his eyes, Lan WangJi shoved his face into his brother's shoulder, his grief wracking his nerves as an encompassing sadness overtook his body. 

Lan WangJi didn't like the feeling. It was like defeat, the misery of losing. the frustration of rejection. Lan WangJi was not defeated, nor had he lost the battle of protecting Wei Wuxian, his will still strong and stubborn. This was merely a setback, a hinder in his quest, but he would get to Wei Wuxian's side and protect him from Lan XiChen, and Jiang Wanyin, and Jin Guangshan, and all the other thousands of cultivators. From the whole world, if he had to. 

It seemed only he remembered the bright boy that once shined his light upon the earth, cackling jokes and careless words, bringing joy to those he met. That boy was kind, and selfless, and gave the world to those who gifted him a smile. The world was not kind to the benevolent ones, however, cruelly jealous of those who were made to be extraordinary. In his place, a man who was still kind and selfless returned, but who was also toughened by his experiences and wielded a power that the world hated. They had forgotten about the boy who lived before, armed only with cheery smiles and teasing remarks, and engraved in their minds the demon they believed they saw. Wei Wuxian would never use his unique cultivation for bad, Lan WangJi knew, as he remembered that boy he had met on the rooftop. The world didn't. They were cruel, and unkind, and unsympathetic to Wei Wuxian's cause.

They were going to eat him alive. 

He had to protect him. 

The world didn't agree. They didn't see who the real monsters were, didn't notice the sheep's skin that they were wearing.

It was not to be. An unfulfilled goal, a brutal truth, a harsh reality. It was not possible for Lan WangJi to go to the Siege of Burial Mounds. It was not possible for him to leave his own jingshi. 

With an arm wrapped around his shoulders, Lan XiChen attempted to get him back to bed. He refused, sticking to the ground he sat on, not bending to the pleading look his brother sent him. Fine, then, he thought, if he couldn't leave now, he could leave later, when his brother went. His Sect could not keep him contained. Nothing could. His back was frozen numb, blood dripped down his skin like a gruesome waterfall, and his whole body ached in protest with every movement, but his mind was unchangeable. He would make it to Wei Wuxian's side, even if the whole world hated him for it. 

Lan XiChen knew this with merely a look. Worry was etched into the lines of his face, his softness doubled, handling Lan WangJi as if he was porcelain glass, shattering at the smallest of touches. Gently, he forced a cup of water into his unsteady hands, supporting it with his own. Lan WangJi studied Lan XiChen's expression, seeing concern and sadness and a little bit fear swirling like a hurricane on his face, and his guilt lurched in his stomach, doubling in intensity. He found himself drinking from the cup before he knew it, hoping to placate some of Lan XiChen's fears. 

As soon as a flash of guilt washed over his brother's face, however, he knew something was terribly, horribly wrong.

He glanced down at his cup. The water innocently stared back at him. 

His mind swirled, dizziness overcoming him. Lan XiChen gently took the cup back from him, his expression pained, holding him close to his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His brother whispered against his hair, chanting it again and again like a prayer. Lan WangJi felt a wetness on his face and realised his brother was crying. His chest ached, his heart roaring in anger at what Lan XiChen did, battling with the instinctive need to comfort him. He couldn't comprehend it. All he could do was sit there, fading into unconsciousness while his brother cried. 

When he awoke again, he was not angry. He was not furious. There was no all-encompassing wrath that made him see red, or any bitterness lingering in his mind. He didn't feel much at all. His body was a statue, his heart stone, his mind dust. The bandages on his back had soaked through, yet he felt nothing. No fire or ice. There was only a yawning void, a black hole, swallowing everything in his body until he had nothing left inside him. 

He could never be angry with his brother. If he was in his shoes, he would do the same. 

He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, time a blur that his mind couldn't wrap around. He could have been staring at the ceiling from his bed for an entire day and he wouldn't have realised it.

But when Lan XiChen arrived again, he was not perfectly impeccable as he had been before, when he had tragically betrayed Lan WangJi's trust. His boots were unrecognisable. His robes were stained, mud and blood creating a rotten painting on the once-white robes. Shuoyue hadn't been cleaned. There was a thin cut on his cheek, weeping slightly, but he knew it would disappear within a day. The lines on Lan XiChen's face were harsher, as if had aged a decade within a day or so. There was no triumph, no mad excitement, nor any victory that lightened his features. There also wasn't any sadness or distress that would come with the words Wei Wuxian is dead . 

It made a ray of hope appear in Lan WangJi's chest, like the sun peeking through dark storm clouds.

Perhaps Wei Wuxian had escaped along with his crew. Perhaps he had once again accomplished the impossible and fought back all the cultivators. Perhaps they reached a peace. As long as Wei Wuxian was alive, then everything would be alright. 

His brother remained silent, however, approaching his bedside and quietly kneeling down. Lan WangJi waited on the edge of his seat for Lan XiChen to tell him the Siege had failed , or Wei Wuxian is alive , or even Wei Wuxian is missing . Anything that meant the cultivators had failed. His expression was hopeful, bright eyes shimmering like glass as they bore into his brother. Lan XiChen stared at him, studying him and his expectant expression, lips parted and eyes exhausted. Lan WangJi knew his brother was tired, that he desperately needed rest, so much so that the wind could easily blow him away, but he needed answers . 

Then, Lan WangJi watched with horror, Lan XiChen’s face twisted into one of guilt and sorrow and all the bad things in the world, that pointed towards Wei Wuxian being gone. The sudden turn was unexpected. Lan WangJi’s hope fell to the ground, shattering and being stomped on until it was unrecognisable. His heart fell with it. He stared at his brother listlessly, the light draining from his eyes, observing his grim expression. 

“WangJi,” His brother muttered, his lips pulled into a tight line, his face white as he hesitantly said the words that Lan WangJi dreaded above all else. “Wei Wuxian...is dead.”

That was it. 

It was over. 

Lan XiChen’s face crumbled more, weary lines deepening, his throat bobbing. Lan WangJi couldn't comprehend anything. Slowly, Lan XiChen went in for a hug, his hands gentle as they smoothed out his hair and cradled his head to his brother’s chest, as if he was no more than a child. He could remember that Lan XiChen would do the exact same thing in their younger days, gathering him up in a hug as he sat outside his mother’s gentian house, a pillar for him to lean on. The usual feelings of comfort and safety didn’t appear, nor did the feeling that everything was alright as long as he had his brother by his side. Because everything wasn’t alright. Nothing was fine. 

His world was disintegrating around him. 

No . 

He refused to believe it. Wei Wuxian wasn’t dead. He was the sun, everlasting and bright, unable to be smothered as his sheer intensity outshone all others. He had to see it with his own eyes. 

Lan WangJi tore out of Lan XIChen’s embrace, ripping himself away from the empty hug full of nothing and everything combined. Before Lan XiChen could even voice a protest, he was out of his bed, grabbing Bichen in a tight grip, the wounds on his back ripping and bleeding anew. He ignored it, ignored everything. He had only one sight in mind: to see Wei Wuxian, whether it was in the living world or the dead. Not even the boundaries of the world would stop him. 

Lan XiChen had only just stood up when Lan WangJi strode out of the room, leaving him in the dust with words of objection on the tip of his tongue. He mounted his sword as soon as he stepped outside, leaving the gasping disciples and fatigued Elders who had come home after the Siege had ended, soon becoming specks of white in the distance. His mind didn’t even process their existence. 

Wei Wuxian was everything. 

Nothing would stop him. No god, no immortal, not even the exhaustion that clung to his bones and seeped into his skin. If he ran out of spiritual energy, then he would walk. If he ran out of energy, he would crawl. If all his blood drained from his body and he lost his physical being, then he would make his way there as a ghost, unhindered by physical affairs. Nothing would stop him. Nothing could stop him. He was unbreakable, unmovable, a statue that no mortal or immortal could destroy, an enemy no one could conquer. 

He didn’t stop to meditate so he could regain lost spiritual energy or avoid the Qi deviation that would surely come to claw at him later. He didn’t stop to bind his wounds, his trophies, leaving them proudly on display even as they sapped his energy. He certainly didn’t stop to sleep, his exhaustion fueling him, urging him to go faster, faster, faster - find him, protect him . 

Lan WangJi arrived at the Burial Mounds in record time. Never had Bichen flow so fast, so swift, his sword hurtling speeds unknown to him. His back was bathed in red, and every step was a hurtle, but he continued on, thriving off the desperate plea to see his love. Mud soaked his clothes, becoming a gruesome painting along with his blood, yet he paid no attention to it. He didn’t pay attention to the scenery, didn’t linger beside the destroyed shacks, didn’t weep for the forgotten bodies he stepped over on his way, didn’t fight the tarrying cultivators who’s hate burned bright for his love. Wei Wuxian was the only thing that mattered. Everything else was merely in the background. 

The Burial Mounds was dark and dank, the setting sun casting a dim glow on the hills of mud and mountain of bodies, doing nothing to aid Lan WangJi on his quest. He squinted at the black soil and the black plants and the black stone, attempting to catch a glimpse of black and red robes, a smile brighter than the sun, eyes holding the universe itself in its depths. The figure that meandered in his mind and dreams, teasing words on his lips and laughter that grabbed the attention of everyone in the room. Stubborn. Selfless. Kind. Beautiful. 

But there was no echoing laughter (except for the deranged, who laughed and celebrated at the edge of the battlefield, tainting Wei Wuxian’s home with their careless drunken words and rude gestures), nor any sun which chuckled and smiled and called, “Lan Zhan!” with a honeyed voice and syrupy words

There was nothing.

Wei Wuxian was gone.

No, no, no. This is wrong. He must be here. Perhaps he was hiding - Lan WangJi knew Wei Wuxian would never hide, though. Always ready for a fight, to bravely right what is wrong, the thought of cowering wouldn’t even cross his mind. His distraught mind searched for answers, clinging to hopeless words in an attempt to not give up, to not give in to the fact that Wei Wuxian was gone. It was a pointless, worthless effort.

It was over. 

Nonetheless, Lan WangJi continued searching. Desperately, eternally, unyielding. He ran through the battlefield, a name stuck to his lips, repeating again and again. The blood hadn’t stopped, hunger squirmed in his stomach, and the urge to sleep was omnipresent. He pushed forward. 

And then, there was a cry. Weak, small, obviously not who he was searching for. But he found himself walking toward it, gravitating to its area, taking anything he could get. There was a boy. The same boy who had once clung to his leg, who called him “Father!” while Wei Wuxian laughed, claiming the child as his while the crowd watched with wide eyes. 

It was Wei Wuxian’s child. 

Broken, sick, in the midst of a harsh fever, but so alive . 

Lan WangJi took him home, to the Cloud Recesses, where he had once begged a man to go. A small little piece of Wei Wuxian that he could bring to the Cloud Recesses, at last. 

Every step home was a crushing, devastating torture. Inch by inch he made his was there, the weight of his guilt pulling him down and slowing him, his mind running wild with the words he was scared to say, with the words he will have to say. He had to tell his brother that he was too late. That he couldn’t save him. That his child was most likely dead. The fact buzzed around his head, taunting, it’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s your fault. It echoed in his mind, haunting him like a ghost, eternally looming over his shoulder. He could taste it at the back of his tongue, foul and dry, blocking his throat and suffocating him.

He didn’t bother to fly. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, his Qi as erratic as his thoughts. Walking meant the arrival to Lotus Pier was delayed. That also meant he had more time to suffer and plan the words he was going to say. But how would you tell someone that the child they tried so hard to protect was killed? 

Perhaps through meaningless words, uttering grievances and excuses, whispering I’m sorry . But Jiang Cheng was not one to play around with worthless words, finding them distasteful and unneeded flattery. He liked to tell it how it is, blunt and to the point, no matter how painful the truth is. He was not one to meddle with feelings. He couldn’t be further removed from them, ignoring his own in favour of the red hot anger that coursed through his veins, his best defense. 

When his parents died, it was anger, pure white rage controlling his body until he got his merciless revenge. When his sister died, it was anger, burning so bright that it blinded him, his emotions battling one another as he tried to figure out was right and what was wrong. Now, his brother’s child had died, and he floundered around. He couldn’t respond in anger. After all, he also participated in the battle to eradicate the Wens, the scourge of the world. How was he to get revenge on himself? Punishing, beating, starving himself would do nothing except make himself useless to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian also didn’t need anger. Too much anger had already been sent towards him, to the point that he had tried to -

No, Wei Wuxian didn’t need anger. He also wouldn't take empty words. He needed the truth . 

But Jiang Cheng didn’t know if he was strong enough to give it to him. 

Nonetheless, he took each step towards his home, his heart being dragged along the ground behind him. When Lotus Pier came into view, he stopped and stared at the building. He was reminded of a time when he had once staggered his was home, guilt heavy in his stomach, his brother imprisoned in a cave. Jiang Cheng thought he would get out - to defy the impossible once again - but he struggled home alone. With the same dread he felt now, he had to utter the words “Wei Wuxian is trapped.” and possibly dead hung in the air, for who could survive the Tortoise of Slaughter? 

Of course, Wei Wuxian could. He could survive anything. 

Hopefully, that also extended to the death of his child. 

Jiang Cheng bought a basket of loquats. He didn’t know why, as he knew Wei Wuxian would be in no mood to eat, but all he could think about were bones poking out of skin and a skeleton-like figure and belly caving in and - it’s all your fault . He had to make it right again. To make it how it was supposed to be before Wei Wuxian wished for too much, before his dreams were too big for the world to handle, before his light was too bright and the sun got jealous. 

The Wens were gone. Everything was how it used to be. (As long as they ignored the aching, black void where their sister once stood) . 

He found Wei Wuxian in the Ancestral Hall. Before, when the Siege was merely a plan and revenge on his brother didn’t feel so real , when he hadn’t seen what state Wei Wuxian was in, when he hadn’t seen him attempt to k- Before all that, Jiang Cheng had planned to drag him to the Ancestral Hall, perhaps kicking and screaming but alive , where he would then force him down on his knees and beg for forgiveness from their sister and their parents. It shouldn't have surprised him that Wei Wuxian went their willingly, of his own prompting, yet it did. 

He hated seeing his brother bowing so low, his grief suffocating the air, as if he was asking for forgiveness for destroying the world and dooming the human race to its untimely end instead of losing control and letting the world hate him. Jiang Cheng almost wanted to believe that he was also apologizing for leaving the sect, for abandoning Jiang Cheng, though he knew it wasn’t true. Wei Wuxian never regretted saving lives, saving innocent people, even if the whole world hated him for it. He always had to be the hero. 

“Hey, what’re you doing out of bed? Wait - how did you even get here without being caught? You were supposed to stay in your room!” Jiang Cheng said, not knowing what else to say, awkwardness overwhelming him. He couldn’t begin with I couldn’t find your son , or your son is undoubtedly dead . His mouth wouldn't even form the words, his lips tightly closed as if he had been cursed with the Gusu Lan’s silencing spell.

Wei Wuxian flinched up, his head swiftly turning to look in Jiang Cheng’s direction, assessing his whole body. Wide, distressed eyes met his, Wei Wuxian’s body slumping as if he was a puppet and his strings were cut, the utter devastation he felt making him curl up. His heart broke as he met those shocked eyes that stared deep into his soul.

It was pointless to try to think of words to say on his way back. The lack of a small child told Wei Wuxian enough. 

Jiang Cheng helplessly watched as his brother was destroyed from the inside out, his heart shattering into a million pieces, his mind collapsing. When tears appeared in Wei Wuxian’s eyes, it broke Jiang Cheng out of his trance, and he rushed to awkwardly embrace his brother, not having the ability to do much else. Time manipulation was, unfortunately, an impossibility. He could not save the Wens, nor save his brother from his grief. He had lost that chance long ago. 

Tears delved into sobs, and soon sobs was outright bawling. Jiang Cheng’s arms tightened around his brother, his heart aching with every new shake of his body, holding him close like one may do with a child. He was forced to press Wei Wuxian’s face into his shoulder as his crying got too loud, smothering his sobs and hiding his pained face, afraid that someone would hear, that someone would find them and take Wei Wuxian away. They were not safe even in their own home. He hated doing it, hated that he had to hide Wei Wuxian when he finally showed him some weakness. The last time his brother had cried in front of him was when they were pitiful children. After that, Wei Wuxian hid every problem, his pain, locking himself behind a mask and putting everyone before himself. 

Wei Wuxian was not just crying for his child. This was all the tears he had never allowed himself to cry in his twenty-two years of living, holding them in until they started to pool over, until it all got too much. 

Their family’s death and the loss of their peaceful home had been a crack in his soul. Jin Zixuan’s death was a rock to the already fragile glass wall, widening the slim crack into a gaping hole. Their sister’s death had been devastating, hitting on the glass until spiderweb cracks spread along it, ready to break at the slightest of winds. His child had been the last string holding him together. It was what truly broke him, shattering the delicate wall and grounding the pieces into dust, ripping his soul from his body. 

Now, he was drowning in the tears that had been built up for too long.

Jiang Cheng frowned at the realisation. He had the urge to join his brother in his weeping, the voices in his head screaming at him, invading all of his senses until all he was let with was the mindless ramblings that were born from his own inability to come to terms with things (It’s my fault, my fault) . But he could not weep for those he did not feel sadness for. The Wens were unknown beings to him, a simple small society which his brother had protected, their personalities blank spaces and their lives without a name. He did not feel sad for his brother’s son, the little boy a stranger to him, but rather his brother, who’s body crumbled in his hold, his heart wracked with grief. 

Nevertheless, he held his brother tighter and tighter, as if he was attempting to mould their two bodies together to become one, hoping to keep Wei Wuxian whole with only his hug. He ran his fingers through his hair, even as they got tangled in the dried mud that still coated the strands. Placing small, butterfly kisses on the top of his head as their sister once did to them when they were younger, Jiang Cheng shushed his brother, gentle and calm noises escaping him in an attempt to soothe him, like he did when the newly orphaned Jin Ling tantrumed up a storm. 

Apparently, he could be gentle and soft and kind in the most desperate of times. 

Slowly, gradually, Wei Wuxian quietened with him. His bawling receded back into sobs, and those sobs soon transformed into silent tears. They sent knives piercing into Jiang Cheng’s heart, hurting him more than the loud bawling could ever do. He wanted to see his brother happy, not cause him more sadness. 

He was truly a useless brother. 

Kneeling before their family’s alters as if they were begging for protection, Jiang Cheng held his brother close, a wave of familiarity washing over him. Once, days forgotten to people but soaked into the petals of the Lotus flowers, Wei Wuxian him close after a particular nasty fight in which they had the unfortunate opportunity to see that left him tears. Wei Wuxian had promised that he would protect him from the whole world if he had to. Jiang Cheng, with his shoulder soaked and heart heavy, now promised the same. 

He would destroy the one who caused this.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian was catatonic after that. 

Hours of not moving made his legs numb and sore, and his tight grip on his brother was tiring, and the accumulation of all the other things made him ready to sleep for a few days, but nothing could compete with the pain it caused to have his brother limp in his arms. Jiang Cheng was tired. And exhausted. And hungry. And he wanted everything to be fine , to fix itself so he didn’t have a constant reminder of how he messed up, and how his life had crumbled around him, leaving him to helplessly grasp at the shattered remains. He just wanted his life to go back to how it was before, with his parents’ familiar useless quarrels, and his sister’s warm embrace, and his brother being happy and giddy and whole. 

But nothing was fine . Not the world, not his life, not him, and certainly not his brother. Everything was a mess. And he didn’t know how to fix it. It seemed truly unfixable , in fact, as if he was attempting to put a puzzle together using pieces of a different puzzle. He was grasping water, but didn’t know what else to do. 

And so he pretended everything was normal. Shouting was an option, too, that had regularly crossed his mind, but was put aside in favour of the more peaceful option. Even if it wasn't the right option, it was definitely the easiest, allowing Jiang Cheng some illusion of normality that he readily lapped up. He was lost in a storm of emotions, trapped in a hurricane, and the center was, while the most chaotic, was the simplest way out. 

Wei Wuxian had retreated into himself again. He had crawled back into his shell, finding comfort in the bleakness of it all, of being separated from the harsh reality. Jiang Cheng wished he could do the same, yet he knew that he was too anger-driven to even contemplate the idea of separating himself from it all. Besides, at some point, someone (most likely Wei Wuxian) would do something idiotic enough to have him storming back out, leaving him without a moment of peace. He needed to get too much done, his drive pushing him forward too much to allow him to simply retreat behind a wall, blocking himself and ignoring the real world. While Wei Wuxian was happy to let life pass him by, Jiang Cheng was not, having responsibilities piled on top his shoulders and people to shout at near constantly.

He liked to busy himself, to fill up his time so he didn’t have to think, to ruminate on darker thoughts and memories. They would sometimes like to pop up in his mind, whispering teasing words that left him feeling empty in the end. That’s where mother used to pace when she was angry , or that’s where father gifted us our swords , or that’s where sister liked to read her poetry , or even that’s where brother had etched our names into the wood . The wood had been burnt down when fire rained down on them, mercilessly tearing their home to shreds, and new, unblemished wood was put in its place, the memory forgotten.

Wei Wuxian was a stash full of opportunities to keep him busy. When they were younger, his brother could create the wildest of games, imagine up the most strangest of scenarios, and weave fun from even the simplest of tasks. Life beside him was a chaotic mess, one that Jiang Cheng enjoyed well. No one ever got bored when Wei Wuxian was around. He kept Jiang Cheng busy on his feet, whether it was from chasing him around to get revenge on him from some childish prank he pulled or joining him on his fun. 

Now was no different. 

Wei Wuxian still kept him busy, but not with harmless pranks and teasing jokes, but with the upkeep of his being. Wei Wuxian needed a bath. The ghost of Burial Mounds clung to him tightly, unwilling to let him go, the scent of death and blood and mud permeating the air around him. Wei Wuxian also needed his injuries checked. The task was left abandoned, Wei Wuxian not willing to say a word about it, or a word about anything at all. Jiang Cheng was not fooled by the farce Wei Wuxian created; he definitely had one injury or two injuries or a hundred. A thousand, most likely. Food was also a priority. Lots of food. Maybe even a buffet. 

He would provide with whatever Wei Wuxian needed. 

Slowly, too aware of his aching legs, he stood up with a shakiness that was unbecoming of him. Wei Wuxian was pulled up with him, still curled to his chest, as if he were a baby seeking comfort from his mother. He gently pulled him through the winding hallways of Lotus Pier, each one pooling with old memories soaked into the wooden pillars, sending pangs to Jiang Cheng’s chest. 

He had come back late at night, and so the long echoing hallways were empty, their footsteps loud in the eerie quietness of the place. Jiang Cheng had walked down the same hallways thousands - millions - of times, yet he had never found it quite so haunting as he did now, his grasp firm and strong on his silent brother. It was as if ghosts were looming behind them, following them with every step. Perhaps they were, his mother and father and sister and brother-in-law a step behind them, watching his actions, gazing at those they had left behind. Were they happy with his need to protect Wei Wuxian, or had they wanted him to leave him for the dogs? Either way, it didn’t matter. Wei Wuxian was with him, alive, and Jiang Cheng would not throw away and waste his efforts. 

He led him to Jiang Cheng’s room. He didn’t want to leave his brother alone tonight, afraid of what might happen if he was left alone with his thoughts (he smiled and then he tried to-) . Wei Wuxian sat compliantly on the bed, staring listlessly at his hands as his fingers fumbled on his lap as if it was the most interesting scene he had witnessed in his lifetime. With a pained heart, Jiang Cheng left him on the bed to fill the wooden tub, warily glancing at him one last time as he left the room, keeping his ears perked for any sounds.

When he came back, having heard nothing but silence as he filled the bath water, Wei Wuxian was lying on his bed, face smothered with Jiang Cheng’s covers. With his thin body curled up like a cat, the blankets bunched up around him, We Wuxian’s body looked smaller than it actually was, more like a child’s. It was frightening. Wei Wuxian had no discomfort, though, oblivious to the world as he slept soundly, his wrecked expression that he had worn for the past few hours slipping off his face to give way to utter peacefulness. Jiang Cheng supposed it was a blessing that he could sleep so tranquilly after what had happened. Perhaps the rest would gift him a brief moment of pleasantness amidst the troubling times, letting him have some respite from the evil of the world. Wei Wuxian deserved it more than anyone. 

Jiang Cheng gently removed Wei Wuxian’s layers, taking extra care not to disturb his rest. It seemed his care was unneeded, though, his brother sleeping like a brick. He was knocked out cold, and he was sure even an explosion wouldn’t wake him. The thinness of his brother’s body was emphasised as he picked him up. Jiang Cheng never knew a grown man could weigh so little. He had carried baskets of fruits that were heavier than him, piled up high yet deceivingly light. It was alarming, but Jiang Cheng bore with it, wrapping his brother’s arm around his neck as he hoisted him up, promising himself that in the future Wei Wuxian wouldn’t want for anything, and would be plump and full and happy. 

The trip to the bath was a short one, yet the actual cleaning took decades. Mud and blood seemed to be stained into Wei Wuxian’s skin, only coming off after several good scrubs that made the pale white skin blush red. He had to be extra careful around injures, which were irritated and infected, trying to cause the least amount of harm that was possible, though he doubted Wei Wuxian could feel it. 

His hair was impossible. Wei Wuxian’s hair had always been messy and unruly, attaining large knots even after a thorough brush, much to Wei Wuixan’s ire. After too many painful brushes, Wei Wuxain had given up on brushing his hair altogether, his hair only receiving the care it needed when their sister or their mother or even Jiang Cheng chased after him with a brush. He doubted there had been any brushes or combs on the Burial Mounds, unless they were self-made bamboo ones, which would have been the least of Wei Wuxian’s worries. 

Now, his hair had accumulated into a chaotic mess. Just when Jiang Cheng breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he had just fought with the last of the numerous knots, another, larger one popped up and proved itself as another challenge. Jiang Cheng was afraid he would rip his brother’s scalp off. The mud also hindered him in his quest, stubbornly sticking to the strands, unwilling to be washed off. 

With a sigh, Jiang Cheng surrendered. He knew Wei Wuxian dearly loved his hair, but nothing could be done. While his brother may be fine walking around with a bird’s nest, Jiang Cheng wouldn't suffer that humiliation and decided it was better to cut it while his brother was asleep in fear of Wei Wuxian’s reaction when he awoke. 

First, he finished bathing his brother and dried him, wrapping him up in a white sleeping robe after putting medicine on and bandaging his injuries. There were too many to count; scratches littered his sallow skin, weeping bright red blood. Bites decorated his arms and legs, and Jiang Cheng could see in his mind’s eye of how the corpses latched at his brother, thinking him a tremendous feast that they could happily gouge on. They were slaves all too happy to tear their master apart. 

Slice by slice, Wei Wuxian’s hair fell away, laying depressively on the floor. It was a new look, one that would take some time getting used to. He didn’t think Wei Wuxian had ever had hair so short, the strands laying delicately on his shoulders, giving him a gentle air. It made him seem more fragile than he was, as if he was made of glass that was on the verge of shattering, tipping over the harsh, cruel unforgiving floor. The weariness and aging that starkly stood out in the lines of his face, gained by the torture of the Burial Mounds, were soothed. Although Wei Wuxian looked different, he also looked like him again. When they were younger, when the darkness of reality was only creeping around the corner and stalking them, not swallowing them whole, encompassing their entire beings .

Placing Wei Wuxian back on the bed, Jiang Cheng collapsed beside him with a huff of exhaustion, ignoring the hunger that gnawed at his stomach and the abandoned basket of loquats that shined on the table, his own injuries meaningless. Before he knew it, his eyes were drooping, comforted by the steady warmth beside him as his heart calmed to a steady beat, in tune with the breaths beside him. He fell asleep to the most pleasant dreams he has had in years, for once not being haunted by dead ghosts of his past being enveloped in flames. 

Wei Wuxian was immovable. Unshakeable. Unflinching.

 Vacant. Empty. 

He was stubborn in his own muteness, keeping his lips glued together in a thin line, as quiet as an owl. Jiang Cheng had never heard his brother so silent before, as even when he was in the most nastiest of moods words would be rushing out of Wei Wuxian’s a mile a minute, flowing together so seamlessly that one might think nothing was wrong with him if not for his stormy expression. There was always a pause in which he expected Wei Wuxian to speak, to have a chance to dominate the conversation as he so often did in the past, yet the moment always fell short, filling with an awkward air. The tsunami of words that drowned Wei Wuxian in the past now seemed to have been dried up in a brutal drought. Jiang Cheng didn’t know if he could recover from the aftereffects. 

He remembered a game that they once used to play in the fields of Lotus Pier as they shied away from their duties and responsibilities, giggling as they hid from his mother’s glare. It was a game of silence, where the winner was crowned based upon their ability to shut their mouth for the longest amount of time. Wei Wuxian had disastrously lost. It was the only game Jiang Cheng had won in his youth, but he didn’t get to bask in his glory long as Wei Wuxian always threw himself at him in the midst of laughter, rigning like the melodious of bells as it filled the wind with happiness and innocence, curious and teasing hands reaching to tickle the same peals of laughter out of him.

Jiang Cheng can’t help but think that if Wei Wuxian would take part in that game now, then there would be no question who would be crowned supreme champion of that childish game. It was a thought that turned his memories sour. 

Wei Wuxian had retreated back into his shell. Not like before, however. Before he had been within himself, loose strings binding him together, peeking around the corner to the outside world with a melancholy unlike him. He had still been able to bounce back, not shackled or tied down by the weight of reality, his freedom not withheld from him. Now, Jiang Cheng feared, it was much much worse. Horribly so. Before he still had a light at the end of the tunnel, shining bright and almost blinding in its warmth, similar to the sun that birthed it. Wen Yuan was a tiny thing, but he was Wei Wuxian’s light. He had been mercilessly snuffed out (and it's all my fault) , and now Wei Wuxian was left to helplessly stumble around in darkness. His mind was shackled by his own doings, held together by strong iron that chafed at the skin, and there was no more peeking around the corner. He was imprisoned in his own mind. 

Jiang Cheng feared that there was no escape for him. 

Stuck in a bottomless pit of despair, Wei Wuxin was unmoving in Jiang Cheng’s bed. He moved only to breathe, and even then the act was a shallow, uncaringly small thing that made it look like his chest wasn't moving at all. His eyes remained shut though Jiang Cheng knew he wasn’t asleep, but he did not say otherwise. He would let Wei Wuxian rest in his fantasy if it lightened his mind. 

He would eat only when Jiang Cheng forced him to, barely enough to sustain him, and then push the rest aside. At the end of the day, they would lie back to back, a constant reminder that the other was there. Not that Jiang Cheng let Wei Wuxian forget it. He was ceaselessly hovering over him, unwilling for him to be left alone, afraid that some ignorant servant would walk in on him. Afraid that something would go wrong. Afraid of what he might do when alone. 

Wei Wuxian was already hovering on the thin lie between life and death. Jiang Cheng hoped that he was old and grey, or better yet, gone, when Wei Wuxian finally tips over the edge. He certainly didn't want to bare witness to it. No, Wei Wuxian was not dying under his care, and would live a long, long life. Maybe Jiang Cheng would even force him to cultivate seriously, instead of letting him run wild with the peasants and the rabbits, so he could attain immortality. If anyone could do it, it was his brother. If Wei Wuxian died before then then Jiang Cheng would take the matter up to the gods and no one would be spared from his brutal wrath.

With a steaming meal of congee in one hand, Jiang Cheng opened the door to his room with a guarded mind, having been gone for sect business for a couple of hours. He didn’t know what he always expected to find in there, couldn’t explain why dread pooled in his stomach and overflowed into the rest of his body, but possible images of Wei Wuxian dead with a knife through his chest or his body submerged underwater constantly thundered in his mind. But those scenarios were impossible, as he had removed all sharp objects from the room, and Jiang Cheng was the one who had to plead and force Wei Wuxian to bathe, otherwise his brother would gloomily waste away in his bed without a care. 

Luckily, Wei Wuxian was lying in bed like usual, seemingly glued to the covers. Jiang Cheng walked in with a grunt to announce his presence, placing the warm bowl on the table before turning to face the motionless figure. 

“Hey, Wei Wuxian.” He said, watching as the man’s eyelids fluttered, long eyelashes casting dark shadows on his gaunt face. They did not open, stubbornly sticking with the facade of sleep. With a sigh, Jiang Cheng kneeled beside the bed and gently shook Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, shattering his illusion. Grey eyes that glittered in the sunlight were revealed, lazily staring at him with an impassivity unlike him.  “I’ve got you some lunch.” 

Wei Wuxian blearily blinked at him, as if he didn’t comprehend his words, before slowly sitting up, letting the covers pool around him. Huffing, he fixed the messy robes and rightened the sheets before taking the bowl of congee and giving it to Wei Wuxian, keeping it steady with secure hands. 

“Please,” Jiang Cheng whispered, his voice barely audible as Wei Wuxian stared at the congee as if it had offended him. Gradually, the bowl was raised to his lips, and Jiang Cheng’s heart gave a big sigh of relief. Wei Wuxian must have been starving to accept it so easily; the other times he had battled much more fiercely. It hurt him to think about it, and when his eyes bore witness to the horrific sights of his brother’s ribs straining the stretched skin or his delicate wrists that could snap with the slightest of pressure, knives stabbed at his heart, pricking at him again and again and again. 

The bowl was handed back to him half-empty, Wei Wuxian’s eyes vacant, his mind off in a different world. He observed as his brother paid no attention to him, staring at the wall with an empty gaze, lunacy sleeping on his skin. I want my brother back , he thought, not for the first time. The world had cruelly snatched him from him. 

He just had to snatch him back. 

“Wei Wuxian,” He cleared his throat. “Wei Ying.” There was no miraculous reaction to his words like there had been in the Burial Mounds, but Jiang Cheng had lost all the patience he had when dealing with him, despite how hard he tried to summon it. He was sick of uselessly repeating Wei Wuxian’s name over and over again only to receive no answer. He felt like he was talking to a brick wall. It infuriated him, and he wanted to shake his brother until he would have no choice but to fly out of his shell and face reality, but he knew it would do no good. 

“I’m going to be leaving tomorrow morning on Sect business.” Jiang Cheng said, fiddling with the blanket and pulling it up further on his brother’s cold body. A meeting was being held to discuss Wei Wuxian’s dead soul and the summoning of it. Which no one was able to do, of course, because Wei Wuxian was alive. Here. In Lotus Pier. On his bed. 

He may as well have been dead. 

The meeting was to be held for a whole day in Lanling Jin’s Carp Tower. With that thought, a sudden realisation came to him like a rock being hurled at his body. He wouldn’t be in Lotus Pier for an entire three days, meaning Wei Wuxian would be all alone. With no one to feed him, or care for him, or make him do something other than sleep. He would be free to go as he pleases, where sharp objects are or where big falls are, where he could easily harm himself and perhaps he would willingly take those steps himself and die-- 

He looked at his brother. The sharp lines of his face and the weariness of his bones, his haunted eyes and dark shadows. He took one of his hands, tracing the small scars that faded in with his pale white skin, the feeling too rough and unhydrated for his liking. The Burial Mounds desperately clung to its master, clawing at the little fat he gained and taking it for itself, draining all health from his body like a greedy parasite. He wanted to curl into his brother’s chest, take what little comfort he could get and drown in his presence, like he used to when reality never loomed over them. Instead, he caressed the pasty skin, wishing for its usual brightness to return. 

“Wei Ying,” He muttered. “When I’m gone, you must stay in this room. I’ll lock you in if I have to, and don’t think I won’t.” Wei Wuxian’s limp hand dropped from his grasp, and he cradled his brother’s face instead, forcing him to turn to face him, staring at him in the eyes. “Do not leave this room.” 

There was a glimmer of brightness in Wei Wuxian’s eyes that shone in the afternoon sunlight, intelligence struggling to make itself known. A brief, short, barely noticeable nod. 

Jiang Cheng crumbled. He dragged his brother to him, pulling him into a crushing hug, breathing in the lotus-filled scent, smelling comfort and safety and home as it encompassed him in an embrace. 

On the day of the discussion, Jiang Cheng stacked Wei Wuxian’s fruit bowl higher than a mountain, forcing him to eat one before he left, knowing the man wouldn’t even glance at them in is absence. A pitcher of water sat on the table, and the table was then moved closer to the bed. He couldn’t help but think that maybe he was being a little overbearing and too worrisome, but quickly shook the thought away. It was all for Wei Wuxian, as he didn’t move out of bed. Besides, what if he was hungry and actually decided to eat something, and got out of bed to get some fruit but then that prompted him to leave the room and someone found him - he would get taken away and tortured and killed - or he found a sword lying around-

No, he wasn’t being overbearing. He was being perfectly reasonable. (He was sure, if Wei Wuxian was his normal self, he would be laughing at him right now) . 

Before he had to leave, he stared at the door to his room, the thought of whether or not to lock it battling inside his head. No servants would dare to invade his privacy, but the question what if? loomed at the back of his mind. 

However, if he did that, wouldn’t that mean Wei Wuxian was practically a prisoner? What would be the difference between Jiang Cheng and those he wished to protect his brother against? 

Although it was tempting, Jiang Cheng, in the end, left it unlocked. Every step away from the door he regretted his decision more and more, and it felt like he was walking on glass with bare feet. Nonetheless, he continued walking until he mounted his sword and flew away in the direction of Lanling, not turning back to even glance at the shadows of Lotus Pier. A million bad scenarios ran rampant through his head, whispering in his ears and snarling at his carelessness, but he locked them in the deepest recesses of his mind, willing himself to forget about the cruel beasts. 

The sky was a dark grey that leeched all warmth from him and his party and they thundered through the angry clouds. The beginnings of a storm was on the horizon, but they pushed past it with eager hearts to not be caught in it. The floodings of Lotus Pier promised to be bad this year. 

When they arrived at Carp Tower, exhausted from the long flight, all Jiang Cheng wanted to do was to collapse on a bed and be kidnapped to dreamland. He tore through the pleasantries with Jin Guangyao with short and clipped answers, exhaustion weighing him down, thoughts of Wei Wuxian haunting his mind. It was a blessing when Jin Guangyao finally gave up trying to engage him in a conversation and led him to his room. 

Sleep welcomed him with an open embrace.

The next morning, all was in anarchy. 

Jin Guangshan sat upon his throne, leisurely fanning himself while Madam Jin sat rigidly by his side with a stony expression. Nie Mingjue relaxed on his seat with his arms crossed, wearing a grumpy expression. His brother, Nie Huaisang, sat beside him with his back to his brother with an oddly displeased expression on his face. Lan XiChen sat in a cold silence, looking older than he was and strikingly similar to the Second Jade. At that thought, he noticed Lan WangJi was nowhere in sight. Lan XiChen was in complete contrast with all the minor sects who were screaming and shouting and panicking, wondering where on earth the Yiling Patriarch’s soul had gotten to, demanding for it to be destroyed. 

Jiang Cheng sat himself down amidst the chaos, hatred in his eyes. No one was happy in this meeting, and so he saw fit to join them. 

He briefly glanced at Lan XiChen, remembering his past offer while the Burial Mounds’ darkness soaked into them, but found the man staring at him already. The Gusu Lan Sect Leader smiled at him slightly, barely a quirk of his lips, a parody of his normal smile. Jiang Cheng wondered what was happening to him to get him so down, especially as he was normally a positive man who brightened people’s spirits at the sight of him. It’s not as if he has a near-catatonic, depressed brother at home that he has to take care of, too. 

Suddenly feeling annoyed, he turned his gaze to his former classmate, Nie Huaisang. The boy, he knew, had a terrible fear of his brother, but at the sight of him now one would not think that. In fact, it seemed that he was outright ignoring Nie Mingjue’s presence, like an offended, snobbish cat. It was amusing to look at. For Nie Mingjue, it was not. He didn’t think anyone had offended Nie Mingjue so greatly, especially his brother. Could it be that Nie Huaisang still thought Wei Wuxian as his friend, and thus despised his brother’s involvement of his supposed death? It seemed impossible, but a small ray of hope poked through the dark clouds. 

At that moment, Nie Huaisang caught his staring, his expression changing from shocked unpreparedness to a somewhat bright happiness in a matter of seconds. A small grin spread across his face as he waved, causing Jiang Cheng to huff. He couldn’t resist minutely raising his hand in a greeting to his former classmate, a reminder of simpler times, of memories long gone, taken away by the wind and the greedy hands of time. 

He knew Wei Wuxian had kept up a close correspondence with Nie Huaisang which only faltered when the ferocious Sunshot Campaign corrupted their lives, and was resumed soon after. They were as thick as thieves, benefiting of one another while sharing their happiness. Their correspondence fell completely, however, when Wei Wuxian moved to the Burial Mounds (my fault, my fault, my fault) where he struggled to get the needed paper for sending letters. Without him knowing, Wei Wuxian became isolated from the world, secluded in his tiny corner in the company of the Wens. 

Jiang Cheng had been less adept at maintaining his friendship with Nie Huaisang, though he did send the occasional letter. While not as friendly with him as Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang was a close friend, and he regretted the slow disintegration of his friendship with the boy. Well, man. They were all men now. The world forced them to be, roughly scrubbing all innocence from their skin. Even the most harmless among them, Nie Huaisang, had also taken part in the war and was not illusioned to the matters of life and death. 

He wondered if Nie Huaisang blamed him for Wei Wuxian’s supposed death, too. 

“What has the Lan Sect done in all of this!?” What had been background noise abruptly surprised them as a man, a leader to a minor sect that Jiang Cheng had no recollection of, shouted, pointing an accusing finger to Lan XiChen. Seeing as he gained the attention of everyone in the room, the man preened, smirking as he continued. “We all know that the Lan Sect is the best at summoning and talking to spirits, yet what have they done?” 

Lan XiChen smiled in a calm, orderly fashion. Jiang Cheng would not have done the same if it was him being pointed at, and he briefly wondered how the man did it. Dealing with idiots always got him angry quickly. 

“Our disciples have been working very hard to find Young Master Wei’s spirit, but there are no results, similar to that of other sect’s efforts.” Lan XiChen said, fleetingly glancing at Jiang Cheng. He knows, he knows, he knows , rung in his head, turning his insides to stone. He tried to remain calm, twirling Zidian around his finger, swallowing down the lump of terror that blocked his throat. He thought of Wei Wuxian in his room, all alone , open to attack. The idiot probably wouldn’t even fight back. 

“And what of Hanguang-Jun? Surely he would have been able to do it?” The man questioned, digging for anything he could get his hands on. Jiang Cheng’s fingers itched to get his hands on him, but others shouted their agreements with the words. 

“My brother has also tried and it yielded no results.” Lan XiChen’s voice deepened at these words, clearing his throat afterwards, staring anywhere but the Yunmeng Jiang area. 

“What about if Hanguang-Jun joined with the others on Burial Mounds? Perhaps the results would be different?” An older man asked this time, possibly an elder, his blinding yellow robes proudly displaying his sect. Jiang Cheng was surprised that a person of the Lanling Jin Sect got involved in the search; Jin Guangshan had got what he wanted, relaxing on his throne with a pleased smile, Wei Wuxian’s notes probably locked away and being researched in a room close by at that very moment. Notes on the Stygian Tiger Seal were unspeakably missing. Suibian, Wei Wuxian’s beloved sword, had disappeared from sight. Their greediness knew no bounds if they wanted anything more. 

“That is not possible,” Lan XiChen hesitantly said, nervously licking his lips. “My brother is currently in seclusion.” Jiang Cheng’s curiosity was immediately piqued, as was everyone else in the room. Even Jin Guangshan, who had been eyeing up one of the female disciples of one of the minor sects, briefly turned his lecherous gaze away. Imprisoning himself into seclusion at such a dire time is a strange choice to make. Unless he was punished to go into seclusion. But what would the most honorable Hanguang-Jun do to deserve any punishment at all? The man was a walking Wall of Discipline, an embodiment of righteousness and honour. 

“What of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect?” The elder turned all the eyes in the room to him. The pressure of a thousand eyes weighed heavily on his shoulders, crushing down on his ribs and preventing air from getting to his lungs. He leaned back, tapping his finger against the wood of the table in front of him, an actor in the making. Fear lurched in his gut, as if they could see straight through his lies, their sights expanding miles to see Wei Wuxian, alive. 

“Yes?” His voice was poisonous. 

“The Yunmeng Jiang Sect seems to have been keeping to itself recently,” The man began, an eyebrow arched. “No disciples have been sent for the investigation of the Yiling Patriarch's soul with no explanation, and you yourself left before the conclusion of the battle. One would have to wonder what it is you are doing so silently.“ Jiang Cheng wanted to strangle him then and there. 

“As all of you have seemed to have forgotten, I’ll remind you. My sister died barely a month ago. And although you may see him as a scourge and a demon, Wei Wuxian was still my brother. Looking back on the information everyone had been fed, some things have to be questioned and scrutinised. I am not saying Wei Wuxian was not at fault for his actions, but some things are not quite clear. So forgive me for not paying full attention into the search for a dead man.” He snapped, his anger getting the better of him. 

Although some may seem him in a bad light now, it did do some good, implanting the seed of doubt. The Lanling Jin Sect had been the ones who had reported all information, whether it was on the work camps for the Wens or Wei Wuxian’s supposed ‘army’ in Burial Mounds, or even the incident at Qiongqi Way. Jiang Cheng had only revealed that and spoke his own opinions. He held no proof of the claims and had little to no information of the events, but it did get people thinking. He could spot Lan XiChen’s turn of the head and short glance to Jin Guangyao, Nie Mingjue’s furrow of the brows, and Nie Huaisang’s small, satisfied smirk. 

Jin Guangshan’s unhappy stare burned into him, and it looked like Jin Guangyao was hiding knives behind his pleasant smile. 

Without another word, Jiang Cheng stood and turned, leaving the hall without another glance. 

Chapter Text

Before he could take off on his sword and retreat to the comforts of Lotus Pier and his brother’s warm presence, Jin Guangyao caught up to him with a snake’s speed in lunging for their prey. Jiang Cheng did not want to deal with the small man’s useless apologies and pleasantries, but the courtesy drilled into him since birth by his strict mother had him turning around to face the man, anger nipping at the edges of his sleeves with a fiery fury. 

“Sect Leader Jiang,” Jin Guangyao said, a mask of woeful worry thick on his face. “I hope you reconsider and stay for the rest of the meeting. There are more problems to sort out, and require everyone’s attention.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.” Jiang Cheng turned to go again, unsheathing Sandu a smidge, only stopped by Jin Guangyao catching the hilt and pushing his sword back into its sheath. The only thing stopping him from attacking the man was the knowledge that this was Jin Ling’s other uncle that he couldn’t go around killing mindlessly. He heaved a great sigh, fully emphasising how much Jin Guangyao was annoying him right now. 

“Please, Sect Leader Jiang, be reasonable.” Jin Guangyao smiled, as if his annoyance amused him. He raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue, hoping to just get Jin Guangyao’s useless ramblings out of the way so he can retreat home. “The fear of the Yiling Patriarch still runs deep within everyone’s heart, and the other Sects are just responding to it. They don’t mean any harm. I’m sure that once we are certain that the Yiling Patriarch has moved on to the next life then everyone will calm down a bit.” 

“Lianfang-Zun, with all due respect, my brother is dead. No matter how many times you uselessly call on him, he is not coming back. In fact, his soul is probably shattered among the Burial Mounds.” 

Jin Guangyao’s eyes narrowed. The lingering fear of the truth being found out squirmed in his gut. “Do you blame everyone for your brother’s death, Sect Leader Jiang?” His question was met with a tense silence that he seemed to take as confirmation. “The Yiling Patriarch was too power-hungry and dark, his cultivation against the natural order. Although I’m sure there are some aspects of the Wei Wuxian’s personality that remained, the brother you knew was gone, mercilessly killing your sister and my half-brother. That is why you also led the siege on him, is it not?” 

Jiang Cheng almost flinched at his harsh words. It was a reminder of an action that he can’t take back and a crime of Wei Wuxian’s that he had sought to ignore for the time being. The truth about Jin Zixuan’s death remained unknown. It was a weapon that could be used against him to turn away from Wei Wuxian, and if it the truth was that Wei Wuxian willingly killed Jin Zixuan, he didn’t know what he would do. 

Jiang Yanli’s death, at least couldn’t be used against him, having witnessed it himself. A cry of his brother’s name, his heart pounding and feet slipping in the mud, pushing away corpses and cultivators alike. A flash of purple silk, unmistakable as his sister’s own, rushing towards his brother, protecting him from the sword raining down. His brother’s eyes widening. A scream of his sister's name that he didn’t know was his own until he noticed his throat in pain, his brother mirroring it. 

And then the Siege. 

Guilt chipped away at his skin, at his insides, at his heart. 

He turned away from Jin Guangyao before he could say another word, drawing out Sandu with a loud clanging of metal, a grunt leaving his throat. Anger fizzled in his veins. He was in no state to face Wei Wuxian right now, but it was all that he wanted. Hopefully the flight back would calm him down, at least a bit. 

“Sect Leader Jiang,” He almost cursed at the man to go away. He had had enough of the ‘ Sect Leader Jiang’ business. He wanted to go back to being just Jiang Cheng. He stepped on his sword, determined to not listen to anymore of Jin Guangyao’s words. “If you are not staying, at least greet A-Ling. He had been particularly fussy these past few days.” He paused. Turned. Willingly fell into Jin Guangyao’s trap. 

“Better yet, I’ll take him with me.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what he was thinking as he cradled Jin Ling in his arms, protecting him from the icy winds that mercilessly stabbed into him, no care for the infant in his arms. It wasn’t good to get another person that has to rely on him when he still has to take care of Wei Wuxian, who was in no state to amuse a child. Jin Ling was safe and happy at Carp Tower. Wei Wuxian needed his undivided attention. Jiang Cheng didn’t know if he could split his attention between them.

Yet, in his mind's eye, all he could think about was how much Wei Wuxian loved children. When they were younger, when Lotus Pier was not stained by death, Wei Wuxian had a speciality with children that few could rival. While normally he was full of rough hugs and joking punches, he turned soft in front of children. They were his weakness. His touch turned as gentle as a mother’s caress, and he was able to keep the child laughing all throughout the day, though not without a few teasing jokes that made the child tear up which was soon banished as Wei Wuxian made it up by making the child laugh. All the children in Lotus Pier had loved Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng didn’t hold the same skill. He found himself clueless when Jin Ling was placed in his arms, not knowing what to do or how to act or what expression to make. He was ignorant in the matters of children. 

Perhaps Jin Ling would be the cure to Wei Wuxian’s troubles. Perhaps not. Jiang Cheng was willing to try. 

When he arrived at Lotus Pier with hurried steps and wind-brushed hair, he gave Jin Ling to one of his trustworthy caretakers. Jin Ling, who had previously been obedient and calm on the way there, immediately began to fuss. His ability to tantrum up a storm, no matter how little the problem was, was equally remarkable as it was frustrating, which only grew stronger the older he got. Was he this bad when he was younger? He would hope not. 

Finally - after many assurances and soft murmurings and gentle rocking that made his arms ache - Jin Ling was willingly carried away from him. He wanted the introduction of Jin Ling to Wei Wuxian to be a slow one, like teaching a baby speech, as to not to overwhelm him. Shoving Jin Ling in his face the first day the infant arrived at Lotus Pier seemed extreme. 

At the thought of his brother, Jiang Cheng began his way to his rooms, eager to see Wei Wuxian. His planned three days had turned to two with his brief presence at the meeting, and when he arrived at Lotus Pier the moon greeted him, the stars little diamonds kissing the sky. Wei Wuxian was probably asleep. It was not like he did much else. But Jiang Cheng cherished the small hope in his heart that perhaps without his constant looming, Wei Wuxian would find some freedom and come back to himself. 

Or perhaps, he took that freedom too far, and he would come back to an empty room. 

His heart halting at the sudden thought, Jiang Cheng rushed to his rooms with a newfound energy, curses on his lips. Fear rushed through his veins, buzzing, taunting him. He couldn’t lose the only family he had left.  

When he barged open the door, panic in his gaze, the first thing he saw was the empty bed that stared innocently up at him. Empty bed, empty covers, empty table, empty room. Wei Wuxian was gone. 

Jiang Cheng staggered back, leaning against the doorway. He took a deep breath in. Breathed out. Released his tightly clenched hands, feeling blood on his fingertips from how hard his nails was digging into his palm, not realising he was doing it in the first place. His shoulders relaxed, his tenseness washing out of him. He needed to think rationally. 

There were not many places Wei Wuxian could go. He didn’t know if it was even possible for him to leave Lotus Pier, but anything could happen with Wei Wuxian’s frustrating stubbornness that got him into too much trouble. His brother was injured, his injuries perplexingly hadn’t healed yet for reasons beyond him, the Burial Mounds’ wounds clinging to him like a disease. Wei Wuxian was also tired, his exhaustion never leaving him, as if he had a thousand weights attached to his body. He was weak from malnutrition and he wouldn't eat to recover from the loss unless Jiang Cheng forced him. 

He quickly checked the fruit and water he left on the table. Every bit of it was untouched. That could only mean two things: either Wei Wuxian did not eat or drink anything, or he left as soon as Jiang Cheng did. Either one could be possible. Either one was frightening. 

As much as the state of his brother’s body hurt him, there was always some light in the darkness. All these wounds and injuries and starvation meant that Wei Wuxian couldn’t go far at all. It also meant that Jiang Cheng had to find him quick, otherwise who knew how far Wei Wuxian would push himself. He wouldn’t hesitate to work himself to death, Jiang Cheng knew. 

The first thing he had to do was check all around Lotus Pier. 

With hurried steps, he retreated, going back the way he went. And then, despite his thundering heart and his mind that screamed at him to find him, get him before he- , he paused. 

Does this mean Wei Wuxian doesn't want to be found? Doesn’t want to be taken care of until he got better? His insistence to have Wei Wuxian in his room where he can take care of him - does this mean Jiang Cheng was as bad as the ones who would rather kill Wei Wuxian? Trapping him, caging him, hunting for him when he simply left a room. If a stranger saw his situation, they would think he was imprisoning his brother. Was he supposed to let Wei Wuxian wander freely? 

No, of course not. Wei Wuxian was in danger by himself. He had not used any spiritual energy nor had he shown any signs of it, meaning his core must be depleted, only worsened by his insistence to starve himself. Without Jiang Cheng force feeding him these past few days, he would have died of starvation or dehydration. Wei Wuxian was a shell of who he used to be and would probably let anyone attack him, with him not lifting a finger to defend himself. He was a danger to himself. Anyone would have kept a close eye on him. 

Jiang Cheng continued his race around Lotus Pier. Dread beat at his skull while panic controlled his body, moving him as if he was nothing more than a puppet to push around. He didn’t like his emotions controlling his body, except for if it was anger. Anger was something he was used to, like the comforting familiarity of home, a defense mechanism that he could always rely on. It was useless to him now. 

He checked every empty room he came across, hoping Wei Wuxian wasn’t stupid enough to pick an occupied room to camp in. They were all empty. He checked all the meeting rooms and dining rooms, where they once had their family meals together, before fire rained from the sky in a torturous nightmare. Emptiness met him. He checked the armoury, the training grounds, the piers. No one was there. He even checked the Ancestral Hall. There was nothing. 

With worry gnawing at his stomach, he paced in front of his own room, wondering where on earth Wei Wuxian could have gone. Unless he really had left Lotus Pier, but Jiang Cheng refused to entertain the thought. A thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. 

He hadn’t checked all the rooms. 

Immediately, he scrambled in the right direction, not caring about his appearance as he rushed through the halls. It was night time anyway; anyone who saw him in the halls, he could shout at them for being out of their rooms. He almost rushed past the door in his mad run there, speedily halting, close to tripping over. He tore the door open. 

Jiang Cheng liked to avoid Jiang Yanli’s rooms. If not for the blatant impropriety of him being in his sister’s room, then it was because everything was so breakable. He was afraid, with his sharp movements and harsh carelessness, he would ruin everything in there. Not to mention the memories that clung to the room, soaking into the floors and hugging the walls. He could see recollections of his sister everywhere, could smell her sweet scent, could hear her gentle voice, could see her in her clothes and ornaments that littered the room. He could not bear the sight of the rooms. 

His two siblings were the light of his life, and he was now missing one of them. 

Jiang Yanli’s room was decorated with memories that all of them cherished. There was a desk, neatly filled with makeup, a few books stacked on the edge. Hair ornaments and ribbons were lined up carefully. He could remember, once upon a time, they all filled Jiang Yanli’s room with laughter, doing each other’s hair. Wei Wuxian had done his; it was so terrible a blind man could have done it better. 

Drawings decorated the wall, some messy, some artfully crafted, each with their own story to tell. Two of them stood out, one of them full of delicate lines making up a nice picture of a rabbit, while the other was an unrecognisable mess. Wei Wuxian had comforted him that day, saying he was better at it only because he used to sell paintings for money while he lived on the streets. The words were meaningless to him then, but now, understanding the words, it made his heart ache for his brother. 

The only added decoration in the room was the person with his head on the bed, softly snoring away, his hands tightly clutching the silk covers. Jiang Cheng’s heart melted. He slowly approached his brother, making his steps silent and breaths inaudible. He became as quiet as a mouse, one with his surroundings. He didn’t think it would make much difference if he stomped in the room, banging pots and pans together, shouting ‘fire!’ . Wei Wuxian was out cold. 

Staring at the motionless body, he thought back to Jin Guangyao’s words. 

“The Yiling Patriarch was too power-hungry and dark, his cultivation against the natural order. Although I’m sure there are some aspects of the Wei Wuxian’s personality that remained, the brother you knew was gone, mercilessly killing your sister and my half-brother. That is why you also led the siege on him, is it not?”

His brother was lazy when he wanted to be, not waking for even the most urgent of calls, and energetic like a hyperactive dog the rest of the time. He had no use for power, only cultivating for his need to protect those around him, and was careless with that as well. He shone as bright as the sun, so brightly, in fact, that one would doubt if there was any darkness in him despite the coiling tendrils of resentful energy around him. Wei Wuxian’s personality wasn’t gone. Jin Guangyao was wrong. 

Jin Zixuan’s mysterious death haunted him from the back of his mind. Jiang Yanli’s death was a wound he had been ignoring. 

Quietly kneeling beside his brother, he carefully brought his fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. It was slow in his slumber, nothing wrong or inconsistent with the pulse. Sighing, he brushed some short strands away from Wei Wuxian’s face, tucking it behind his ear. His gaunt cheeks were flushed and eyes swollen. It was obvious that he had been crying. Jiang Cheng felt as if a thousand arrows tore through his body, slashing at him, making him bleed a pool of pain. He wiped away the remaining tear tracks, gentle as to not to wake him up.

He remained there for a few minutes, leaning on the bed, sitting beside his brother. He wondered how long Wei Wuxian had been there. It was by no means a comfortable position, his legs tucked underneath him, his arms a pillow under his head. When he woke up, he was probably going to be sore and all limbs numb. If he were like normal, he would proceed to complain about it for the rest of the day. 

Huffing at the thought, he stood up, resigning to the fact that he would have to carry Wei Wuxian to his room. Just as he took hold of Wei Wuxian’s arm, his head knocking on his shoulder, he remembered his last thought about Wei Wuxian’s spiritual energy. 

Making himself more comfortable, Wei Wuxian leaning against his body while he slept, his head tucked into his neck, he grabbed hold of Wei Wuxian’s wrist. A sense of foreboding grabbed hold of him with a tight grip. Ignoring the dread pooling in his stomach, he searched through Wei Wuxian’s meridians, looking for the core. 

He furrowed his brows. Checked again. Wondered if he was doing it right, if his brain had been muddled by his worry and fear over the past few days, to the point where he couldn’t do the most basic exercises such as looking for a core. He tried again, pushing spiritual energy into Wei Wuxian’s body, feeling it disperse without anything to hold it, like ink in water. Searching for the core was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Except the needle was invisible. 

Because it wasn’t there at all. 

Wei Wuxian didn’t have a core. His cultivation was gone. 

For a moment, Jiang Cheng was speechless, unable to even form a thought. He didn’t know how to react. He stared at his brother’s peaceful face, gentle in his slumber, uncomprehending the situation. And, like he always does, he fell back on anger. It burned in his body, alighting his veins and his insides and his heart, until he was an inferno of wrath. A hurricane of questions hurled in his mind. Who done it? How? Why? Was that why he resorted to demonic cultivation?

The only person who held such a power was Wen Zhuliu, and he had been with Wei Wuxian all the times they had met him - except once. Once, when Jiang Cheng had been fed words of optimism, of how he was going to get his core back, while Wei Wuxian remained at the bottom of the mountain. And then he had been thrown into Burial Mounds. Was it then, when Wei Wuxian was weakened by both exhaustion and grief? Or was it before, where it slyly slipped past Jiang Cheng’s gaze? 

Or, perhaps, it hadn’t been stolen by Wen Zhuliu at all. Jiang Cheng had his own core melted. And then, suddenly, there was a miraculous way to regain a core. The respected healer, Wen Qing, who had accomplished many great feats was there. There was no doubt that Wei Wuxian would do anything for those he loved, even if it was completely stupid. Slowly, all the dots connected together. 

Wei Wuxian had given him his core. 

Many things rushed through his mind - words of denial, alternate scenarios, curses on how stupid Wei Wuxian was - but the most prmoinante was anger. It was a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter on his tongue, a volcano on the verge of erupting. Yet the rage would lead nowhere as there was nowhere for it to go. Wei Wuxian was asleep, oblivious to the world, ignorant of the fact that Jiang Cheng knew . He couldn’t take his anger out on him. 

His angry fire spluttered out, leaving behind charred embers and an unsatisfied feeling in its wake. 

There was nothing he could do with the information. 

He buried his face into his hands, feeling exhaustion nip at his skin, anger giving way to fatigue. It was as if all his energy drained out of him along with the anger, like a river drying up. He ran his hand through his hair. The warm breaths of Wei Wuxian on his neck and a little whine escaping his brother from his movement reminded him where he was and what he was doing and what situation he was in. It felt like a century has passed in that one night. 

With a sigh, he gathered Wei Wuxian in his arms, one arm behind his back and the one under his knees, heart tugging at the easiness of the action. He had carried Wei Wuxian in a range of different positions before, but only a few times like this simply because Wei Wuxian was too heavy. Yet, now, Wei Wuxian was as light as a feather, barely weighing a half-full sack of potatoes. He held Wei Wuxian more closely in his arms. His brother was compliant, nuzzling further into his neck, reminding him of a lazy cat.

He brought him to JIang Cheng’s room again, his exhaustion increasing with every step. By the time he made it to the bed, he was ready to hibernate for the rest of the year. He barely managed to kick of his shoes before he tumbled in the bed, Wei Wuxian gently placed beside him. His tiredness tugged at his eyelids, ushering him into a dreamless sleep that he welcomed wholeheartedly, falling into the comforting embrace. 

It wasn’t even an hour later when he felt movement beside him. His head foggy in the midst of sleep, as if his mind was full of clouds, he didn’t notice the lack of warmth beside him until a few minutes later. As if waking from a nightmare, Jiang Cheng shot up, the obvious void beside him where his brother should be causing him to panic.

Does Wei Wuxian enjoy leaving without a word as if he was a ghost, leaving him alone to have a heart attack each time? Next time, Wei Wuxian would be tied to the bed. 

With clumsy steps, he got up out of bed, not even bothering to put his shoes on. Anyone who was awake at this time was either crazy or also had a wandering brother to find. Yawning, he made his way down the hallway at a peaceful pace, knowing Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have gone for. He had earned some trust at least; if Wei Wuxian didn’t leave those two days he was gone, then he could be trusted not to leave for a few moments. 

He halted in front of a room. Childlike giggles tinkled like little bells, soft and musical to the ears, enchanting anyone who hears it. Jin Ling had rarely laughed since his parents death. Instead, it was all sharp screaming and a hurricane of tantrums, never ceasing unless he was in his arms where he would lie calmly without another sound. He opened the door. 

There Wei Wuxian was, a small smile sporting his lips, Jin Ling a flurry of laughter in his arms. 

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng had a problem. Problems, he had found, were a normal occurrence for him, that plagued his very being and followed him around like a vengeful ghost. Whether it was problems with the undead lurking on Yunmeng Jiang territory, or problems with his disciples, or even his trusted elders whining too much, they all held a common theme: they gave Jiang Cheng headaches. The problem he had right now gave him the worst, longest headache he had ever had in his entire life, simply because it had constantly been there, haunting his mind and sniggering at his pain.

The problem was called ‘Wei Wuxian’. 

Wei Wuxian, who was both the bane of his existence and the light of his life. Wei Wuxian, who pranked and played tricks and spun words of pure gold. Wei Wuxian, who acted too rashly and didn’t think of the consequences. Wei Wuxian, whose personal life goal was to save everything and everyone, throwing away his own safety without a care in the world, not thinking about those who guarded his back with worrying stares. 

Jiang Yanli had been the leading force behind the movement, armed with small chidings and a fearsome glare, with others in his family backing her. Even Jiang Cheng’s mother; he was not fooled by her harsh words and shoutings; it was concern hiding behind her eyes. Jiang Cheng was included too, always watching out for his brother yet never able to stop him at the right moment, and he was the only one that remained. Looking out for the unstoppable force that was Wei Wuxian rested in his hands alone, now. 

And that’s where the problem lay. Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do. He was helpless, feeling like his hands were tied to a post while he could only look on powerlessly, his lips sewn shut, unable to even whisper. It was torment that rivalled Wen Ruohan’s infamous tortures. 

He didn’t know what to do with Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng sat, hand running through his undone hair, at the table. Jin Ling’s laughter echoed throughout the room as if mocking his thoughts, Wei Wuxian’s quiet ones following it. They were happy. Clearly. Obviously, there for all to see. Thriving in each other’s presence. Jin Ling had never laughed so much. Wei Wuxian had begun responding. How could Jiang Cheng pull them away from that? 

Yet, it was the small minute details that counted. Jin Ling hadn’t left Wei Wuxian’s arms all day, and had been able to sleep in his cradle the previous night only because Jiang Cheng physically pried Wei Wuxian away from him. Wei Wuxian’s eyes were dark, bags decorating his face and hunger carving his face into sharp unnatural angles, looking more dead than alive. He hadn’t changed his robes for three days. He hadn’t taken a bath either, his hair hanging greasy and limply to his thin shoulders where his collarbones poked out like sharpened knives. 

Every time Jiang Cheng lay his eyes on Wei Wuxian, he had to swallow his guilt, tasting the bitter flavour, feeling it slide down his throat like a worm and settle in the pit of his stomach, uncomfortable and unwanted. Near to where a foreign golden ball burned brightly inside of him, his traitorous mind supplied. 

“Wei Wuxian,” He said, gazing out the window as the sun settled peacefully down, marking the end of another day where Jiang Cheng flailed helplessly, hurriedly searching for guidance on what to do with this broken brother of his. Jiang Yanli would have been better suited for this task; by now, Jiang Yanli would have had Wei Wuxian all sorted, back to his happy self. Well, sane, functioning, and happy self. “Jin Ling has to have dinner now with the aunties.”

Wei Wuxian ignored him, as if the words had flew right past his head. The small tightening of his arms around Jin Ling’s body betrayed his faked obliviousness. Jiang Cheng sighed, his bones aching as he stood, his body tired and weary. He would not be surprised if he began sprouting grey hairs within the week. 

“Wei Wuxian.” His voice turned to one of warning. As he reached out for his brother’s shoulder, Wei Wuxian avoided his touch. Faintly, he felt the shattered remains of his heart breaking further. 

He carefully sat down beside his brother. The thin and injured man’s touch was gentle as his fingertips traced Jin Ling’s hair, face, body, as if he was no more than wind. Long fingers pinched the child’s cheeks and tickled his sides, though Wei Wuxian’s face remained expressionless, guarded. Wary. Wary of Jiang Cheng. 

Jiang Cheng did not enjoy this new Wei Wuxian. He liked him better than the old, unresponsive Wei Wuxian that sat there lifelessly as the world passed him by, because anything was better than that version of Wei Wuxian. This Wei Wuxian smiled and laughed and found joy in the little creature called Jin Ling. 

But he also threw tantrums as if he were a child, not allowing Jin Ling to be taken away from him, as protective as an overbearing mother. (A small part of Jiang Cheng was afraid that he was replacing his lost child with Jin Ling, but no, Jiang Cheng refused to amuse the thought.) He had grown careful of Jiang Cheng after the third time he had taken Jin Ling away from him, but had small moments which Jiang Cheng unspokenly treasured where he would seek Jiang Cheng’s warmth and curl up in his presence, coming one step closer to clarity, and making Jiang Cheng think that maybe it’ll be alright. But then something would set him off or a memory would plague him, and he would shrink in on himself again, leaving Jiang Cheng confused and helpless, not knowing what to do. 

Jiang Cheng was never one to delve into emotions. Poetry, stories, literature, everything that taught nature and feelings: they were things he never swam too deeply into. Right now, he had no idea what he was doing. 

He needed help, but the secret of Wei Wuxian rested heavily upon his mind. Everyone hated Wei Wuxian. What idiot would wish to help him and not reveal his secret to the cultivational world within seconds upon hearing it? It was utterly impossible. 

“Wei Wuxian, Jin Ling can’t go hungry.” Jiang Cheng droned monotonously, it being his fourth time repeating the exact same words. It would then develop into a fight, where Wei Wuxian would valiantly struggle until Jiang Cheng had to force Jin Ling out of his grip. It was doing nothing for Wei Wuxian’s health, he knew, but he had tried to peacefully settle the issue yet Wei Wuxian ignored all his words. Was he supposed to let Jin Ling starve?

His brother mumbled something unintelligible. 

“What?” His exhaustion was creating a path to anger, mopping and shining the floors so nothing obstructed its way. 

“Let me feed him.” Wei Wuxian had never offered this before. Aways so focused on everything other than human limitations, ignoring how humanity slowly gnawed at him until he was dust. Was this a step towards healing, or a step to an obsessive protectiveness that will spell out his end? Jiang Cheng didn’t know the answer, but he did know this: his brother was impossible to refuse. 

Jiang Cheng nodded. He got up, moving out of the room without a second glance, finding Jin Ling’s usual nanny and taking the mashed food from her, before turning back to the room in which his brother disintegrated in. He handed him Jin Ling’s food, giving him another weapon that could lead to his self-destruction, and could only stare as Wei Wuxian cooed and positioned Jin Ling. 

He felt like a puppet, a stranger in his own body. Was this the right way forward? Wei Wuxian already held Jin Lin close to his heart, watching him every second, not letting him out of his sight and in constant fear when the child is. This level of obsessiveness was not good. Jin Ling was already one year of age, and as he grew, so did his learning and speaking capabilities. Soon, Jin Ling would have to go out in the public, and what then? With the innocent childish mind of his, ignorant of the ways of the world, he would blabber about the overprotective uncle of his that treated him as if he was glass. That would mark the end. 

And it would be all Jiang Cheng’s fault. (It usually was) . 

The secluded life Wei Wuxian was living right now was doing him more harm than good, entrapping his bright light so it dwindled into barely a candlelight, smothering his flames. As he had thought before, Wei Wuxian was never one to be caged. This imprisonment was only killing him in a slower way than the enemy. He was always a social butterfly, thriving of contact from others, yet Jiang Cheng had limited him to only himself and Jin Ling, an infant that could only say the most basic of words. Unknowingly, Jiang Cheng had been torturing his brother. 

But who was he supposed to trust? 

Jiang Cheng stared at Wei Wuxian, at this miserable figure before him. His brother smiled and murmured sweet nothings into Jin Ling’s ears while he wiped the child’s mouth. Only he could spot the hint of lunacy. 

There was a burning in his eyes and a tightening of his throat that he refused to acknowledge. Wei Wuxian eyes fleetingly glanced at him, unintentionally, it seemed, his cloudy eyes dark and foggy like an approaching storm. His eyes cleared up in a brief moment of clarity, strikingly vivid. He looked at him like he used to - a familiar look that caused Jiang Cheng’s heart to shrivel up and scream in pain - with doting eyes and brotherly concern. In that moment there was no doubt who the older one was, even if by a few days. 

He leaned closer to him and bumped shoulders, and Wei Wuxian did not evade his touch. 

They sat in a peaceful silence for a few moments, Jiang Cheng drowning in this small piece of normality that the gods had decided to grant them. But he would not waste this brief pause from insanity. Before it was Wei Wuxian that disrupted each and every silence, always eager to get one more word in, whereas now it was him. He could tell it was the calm before the storm before the words even slipped out of his mouth. 

“Jin Ling needs to-”

“No.” Jiang Cheng pursed his lips and huffed. 

“You didn’t let me finish.” Wei Wuxian remained in a stony silence. “Jin Ling needs to go to bed while you have a bath.” His brother’s body tensed, becoming a statue chained to the ground, immovable as a mountain. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes, preparing for the oncoming fight. 

“No,” Wei Wuxian emphasised slowly, as if it would make it clearer to Jiang Cheng of how he wasn’t going to let go. “I don’t want to. I don’t need a bath. A-Ling can stay with me.” Lately, Jin Ling had become his lifeline, and he clutched a him with an ardent fever. Was this because of the child that had been so cruelly ripped away?  Was it always going to be this way? 

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng said in a defeated manner, exhaustion pulling at his eyes, too tired to deal with another tantrum of Wei Wuxian’s. Why can’t everything just go back to normal? “Jin Ling can stay.” Wei Wuxian turned, confused and tense, as if waiting for Jiang Cheng to suddenly tear Jin Ling out of his arms, his soft words only a pretence. He supposed Wei Wuxian was used to people turning against him. Jiang Cheng was not free from the shackles of blame; in fact, he was the one who harboured it the most.

But Wei Wuxian was not a free man either. 

“You do need to have a bath, though.” Jiang Cheng scrunched up his nose to emphasize his point. Wei Wuxian stared and stared and stared and stared. Suspicious. Wary. Afraid. Jin Ling shrieked as he was held closer to Wei Wuxian’s chest, nuzzling into the white sleeping robes of his protector, some of his dinner stuck to his face. “Jin Ling needs a bath, too.” He added, observing how Wei Wuxian’s shoulders relaxed slightly. 

Jiang Cheng had to fill the tub himself. Servants had long since been forbidden from his rooms, each and every one of them not daring to draw near after Jiang Cheng had nearly fired one for going too close in their mischievous curiosity. He filled it until it was almost overflowing, the water reaching the brim. When he went to Wei Wuxian in the other room, he was sitting with his back straight and attentive, so proper that Jiang Cheng’s mother was surely feeling proud in the afterlife. He looked like he was walking to his death rather than a bath. 

He refused to let Jiang Cheng near as he undressed Jin Ling, tickling the small child as he went, prompting pearls of laughter to escape the babe. Before, Jin Ling hated baths, and would scream and scream until he could get out of it. Wei Wuxian clearly struggled to hold Jin Ling and undress at the same time, but wouldn’t allow Jiang Cheng to take a step closer.

 He remained only to assure that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t drown himself. 

The sight of Wei Wuxian coddling Jin Ling, who was seemingly fascinated by the water, successfully took his mind off of the perpetually growing stack of papers that he still needed to sort through, Sect Leader duties following him like the plague. They had been ignored lately in favour of Wei Wuxian, but they loomed at the back of his mind, stirring enough dread for it to pool in his stomach. 

After a few minutes of simply staring at Wei Wuxian’s back, he forced himself away from his brother’s side. It pained him to do so, a million possibilities running through his head, each one worse than the last. But it was not fair on his Sect, that it should suffer through his selfishness, that he was wandering off with his brother instead of keeping the Sect going like a good Sect Leader should. His mother always hated when he prioritised Wei Wuxian before the sect, and he was doing exactly that; but his brother wasn’t someone who he could give up. Especially now. 

The only thing that drove him to take steps out of the sideroom was the belief that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t harm himself while in the presence of Jin Ling. And he wasn’t eager to ever let Jin Ling out of his arms. The small babe would hopefully keep him out of trouble. 

Only after he thought that did he realise how ridiculous it sounded, yet all things did when related to Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng made the short trip to his study, where a mountain of papers were piled up the heavens was waiting for him. He heaved a great sigh when seeing the tall stack, already feeling the ache in his wrist and the boredom running through his veins, knowing it would be the mental equivalent of running around the whole of Yunmeng. Or even the whole of China. His past self should be ashamed of himself for letting the work pile up so heavily. 

Reluctantly, he took the papers back to his room, attempting to build up his dedication to tackle the work. 

He had been right. The work was downright boring, each minute that passed driving him further off the edge into insanity. It was as if people couldn’t function by themselves, so they came to Jiang Cheng with every problem, seemingly hoping to ignite his anger and bring it upon themselves. Masochists, they were.

There are feral corpses in the east , one report said, written by a senior disciple. Isn’t it obvious that the sender should fight them then? If they saw them, they should defeat them! Nevermind waiting around for an answer from the sect leader when innocents could be harmed by the corpses! One of the disciples destroyed the training dummies , he read out. Isn’t it common sense to buy new ones if that was the case? What had the disciples been training with after? Or had they just been lying around, doing nothing but enjoying the hot weather. A demonic cultivator was found, another told. So? Why would Jiang Cheng care? It’s not like he had some personal vendetta against all demonic cultivators. 

They were infuriating. 

The only relief he had from their whines and complaints was his occasional checkup on Wei Wuxian. He seemed to be enjoying his time in the bath, relaxing within the waters with Jin Ling cuddled to his chest. Wei Wuxian looked like a content cat, while Jin Ling was his soft kitten. At one point, Jiang Cheng had to rescue them from drowning, both of them having fallen asleep. 

He put them to bed, sighing in relief at the lack of fight as he took Jin Ling from Wei Wuxian’s arms. A cradle had been moved into his room for Jin Ling’s benefit, simply because Wei Wuxian wouldn’t allow the infant to sleep in another room. Jiang Cheng was terribly submissive to his demands. He should be firmer, stopping the overprotectiveness and obsessiveness before it grew too large, but he was weak in the face of Wei Wuxian. 

After, with slumped shoulders and a defeated heart, he returned to his work. But what greeted him was not a whine or a complaint or a boring report, but a letter addressed to him. A letter from the Qinghe Nie Sect. 

Dear Jiang Cheng, the letter began, or should it be Sect Leader Jiang now? 

Nie Huaisang’s words were strangely relaxing. The other man always managed to make things interesting, weaving words like a master storyteller, not to play with people and spin them in circles, like Wei Wuxian did, but to merely distract them into relaxing. Nie Huasaing always appeared so weak and overlooked that sometimes Jiang Cheng forgot he had some dangerous abilities within him as well. He was a Nie, after all. 

The Nie Heir spoke of days long gone, when they were blanketed in white and coddled within the heavenly mountains, their only worry being the looming exams. He teasingly spoke of how they passed notes in lessons, of how no matter how hard Jiang Cheng tried to stay out of the drama, he always got drawn in anyways. He spoke of the trips to Caiyi town they took, the alcohol they drank, the fish they caught. Jiang Cheng could taste the pleasant burn of Emperor’s Smile in his mouth even while he was sitting in his room, his brother dead asleep beside him. Nostalgia pooled in him as if he was a well. 

Nie Huasaing also sneakily mentioned Wei Wuxian a few times, merely saying it in passing, as if he were an afterthought. But Wei Wuxian could never be an afterthought; he was always the center of attention. The pure muttering of his name could draw people’s eyes, even before he became the Yiling Patriarch. 

Nie Huaisang spoke of how Wei Wuxian was always the best at catching fish, at sneaking in Emperor's Smile without getting caught as long as Lan WangJi wasn’t on duty - that started a long rambling of how he wondered how Lan WangJi was doing, of how much Wei Wuxian used to hang out with him (it wasn’t ‘hanging out’, Jiang Cheng thought upon reading the words, rolling his eyes, Wei Wuxian was just annoying Lan WangJi), which ended on I wonder why Lan WangJi wasn’t there at the meeting… (Jiang Cheng didn’t know why he included that; Gusu affairs were of no importance to him) - and other personal things. How Wei Wuxian always helped him, and never thought him a bother, and always kept him happy. 

And then, Nie Huaisang ended on a line that summed up everything Jiang Cheng had been feeling:

I feel like the world has turned upside down.  

Jiang Cheng found himself shocked and somewhat empty as the letter finished abruptly after that. He wanted more . More of this pointless ramblings that made his heart feel stuffy and fluttery all at once, more of the little flashbacks to the past. More of a happy, perfect Wei Wuxian. 

But the point of the letter was beyond him - why would Nie Huaisang send him this? Did the man just want to bathe in nostalgia with him? Was there a deeper meaning that went straight over his head? Did it even matter?

No , he thought to himself, even as his eyes zoomed over the letter again and again, trying to find what Nie Huaisang was hoping to convey. And there it was, plain and simple: Nie Huaisang was testing him on the matter of Wei Wuxian. 

Everyone assumed that he was a bright inferno of anger, thought his hate ran deep into his bones and into his very soul when it came to Wei Wuxian. His sect members had been avoiding saying Wei Wuxain’s name for this very reason, making the mere mention of him a taboo, and the demonic cultivator nonsense was much more clear now. They thought he hated Wei Wuxian. They couldn’t be more wrong. But his sect didn’t know this and neither did the world. 

If he hated Wei Wuxian, he would have burned in fury at what Nie Huaisang wrote him, would have called him a traitor and spat on his name, regardless of the consequences. But he didn’t hate Wei Wuxixna, and that was what Nie Huaisang was relying on. 

Smirking, he leaned back in his seat, his back groaning with the effort. Beside him, on the bed, Wei Wuxian mumbled something incomprehensible, his arm reaching around the bed in search of something. Jiang Cheng leaned over and caught the wandering limb, only to be pulled closer as Wei Wuxian hugged his hand as if he were no more than a stuffed toy. Huffing a laugh, he gently removed his imprisoned hand, before looking at Wei Wuxian contemplatively. 

He needed help. And help was being offered. Did he dare to take it?

His body moved before his brain even answered his own question. A pristine, new piece of paper was taken out, his brush dipped in ink, and then he hovered over the page. What was he supposed to write? ‘Please help, my brother who is supposed to be dead is actually alive and kicking, but he’s a bit out of it and I can’t help him alone. Oh, and there’s also an infant here.’ He was afraid that that was going to scare Nie Huisang away rather than lure him to Lotus Pier. 

Straightening his shoulders, he put his brush to paper. 

Dear Nie Huaisang,

Yunmeng is lovely this time of year, perhaps you’d like to come visit sometime...

Chapter Text

“Wei Wuxian, you need to get dressed.” Jiang Cheng said, reorganising his desk where papers lay scattered about, mostly from Jin Ling’s first attempt at drawing. Jiang Cheng had allowed the mess simply because he got to hear Wei Wuxian’s laughter as Jin Ling scribbled on both the pieces of papers and the desk. Now, the desk bore the scars of a violent battle, ink stained deep into the wood that no matter the amount of scrubbing, it was impossible to get off. Jiang Cheng knew; he had tried for an hour. 

Wei Wuxian glanced up at him curiously, wide grey eyes following his flurried movements around the room, as if he were a mischievous cat. There was a clear question in his eyes, a question Jiang Cheng was afraid to tell him the answer to. He pretended he was fully occupied by the mixed up papers, as if he didn’t always have half his attention divided for Wei Wuxian solely. He needed to. 

Jin Ling giggled, using Wei Wuxian’s lap to shakily stand up on clumsy legs in an attempt to make his way back to the table, back to his drawing. He only made it a few steps before he tumbled over, Wei Wuxian catching him half way through his fall. 

“Why?” His brother finally asked verbally, sitting Jin Ling in his lap where the babe fumbled with his hair. Wei Wuxian ignored the harsh tugging with eternal patience. 

Jiang Cheng finished stacking the papers before he stood up again, only to make his way over to the bed and make it presentable, picking up the fallen covers off of the floor where Wei Wuxian had kicked them. The silence stretched on, each new second adding a layer of tension in the air, Jiang Cheng’s stomach sinking along with it. Wei Wuxian’s burning stare was like a brand to his back. 

“What does it matter? You can not stay in your sleeping robes all day like you have for the past two weeks. At least make yourself semi-presentable.” Jiang Cheng turned to his brother, hands on his hips. The way Wei Wuxian slowly folded in on himself, bringing Jin Ling closer to his chest, was too clear to ignore. Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly, feeling a if a rock was tearing through his throat, blocking his esophagus.

“But I’m not going anywhere.” Wei Wuxian said. A brief, empty pause. Horror pooled in Wei Wuxian’s eyes. Desperation clawed at him. “Am I?” 

Jiang Cheng shook out of his trance. “No, no, of course not.” It obviously did nothing to calm Wei Wuxian’s fears, the man staring at him as if he were a monster that just emerged from under the bed. He kneeled down beside him, attempting to pretend obliviousness at the way Wei Wuxian flinched away from him. He grabbed his shoulder, only to remind himself that Wei Wuxian really wasn’t going anywhere. He would never let Nie Huaisang take him away if this was some big farce. He wouldn't let anyone take him away. “Look, you aren’t going anywhere, you’re staying here with Jin Ling and I, okay?” 

Wei Wuxian slowly nodded, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Good,” He squeezed his shoulder, memorising his brother’s features for the umpteenth time, a short pause coming between them that was normally reserved for Wei Wuxian’s unlimited words. The seconds ticked on in silence. “Right. Come, your hair is a mess.”

Jiang Cheng did not know why he was overwhelmingly obsessed with presentation right now. The full reality that Nie Huaisang was coming to Lotus Pier had not yet hit him, held back by his unwillingness to let anyone see his brother, especially when he was so weak and in tatters. The most he could do was make everything else seem perfect, from the dusting to the decor to the room itself. It gave him something to occupy his hands and mind with, instead of stewing in dread for the future. Even if Nie Huaisang would not care for the cleanliness of the room; he never did in their Cloud Recesses days. 

Now, with the strands of Wei Wuxian’s hair between his fingers and a comb in one hand, it all seemed to crash down on him. 

He didn’t have to let Nie Huaisang see Wei Wuxian. He was doing this out of his own free will. But what then? Life would continue passing by, Wei Wuxian absolved from it all. And it would all be Jiang Cheng’s fault (like always) . And if he allowed Nie Huaisang to see this captive whom he had been keeping secret - everything might be a little closer to normal . Perhaps, if he allowed a few more people in, Wei Wuxian would regain his spark and enthusiasm. He would not have his family back, but he’d have his brother. 

Or perhaps not. Perhaps it was all for naught, and his brother was long gone. 

But Jiang Cheng was ready to cling to whatever hope he had left. Wei Wuxian had improved since his release from the Burial Mounds’ hold. A little, but they didn’t have to take huge steps. Jiang Cheng was okay with baby ones. His brother was still there, he remembered, after they had escaped and Wei Wuxian wanted to rush back in to save a child. His child. That was gone. 

Jin Ling struggled in Wei Wuxian’s grasp, tiny hands reaching out to the draw of colourful ribbons and fancy ornaments. The child picked up Wei Wuxian’s signature red, the ribbon having been mingling with his own purple ribbons, trapped in that draw since he had to pry it out of his brother's mud-coated hair. Jiang Cheng gently wiggled it out of Jin Ling’s hands before he had any ideas of tasting it. Wei Wuxian’s shorter hair didn’t allow much movement, but Jiang Cheng was able to tie it up into a half-do. 

Urging Wei Wuxian to dress by shoving robes into his hands, he left the room to get their breakfast. It was dependable on Wei Wuxian’s mood on whether he would eat it or not, but Jiang Cheng made the trip from his room to the kitchen every morning all the same, dedication building up in his body. He’d make the meal himself. He was never as good of a cook as his sister, but he was able to give Wei Wuxian a balanced diet, even if the vegetables were cut a little wonky sometimes or the meat a tad overcooked. Wei Wuxian ate it, anyway, when in the right mood. 

He returned with two steaming bowls and a bowl of vegetables for Jin Ling, only to find Wei Wuxian still in his sleeping robes, merely holding his clothes while Jin Ling chewed at the ends of his ribbon. Jiang Cheng set the tray onto the table, not saying a word as he took the ribbon from Jin Ling’s mouth and gave his bowl to him. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, moving the clothes away as he handed Wei Wuxian his breakfast. The man took the bowl without complaint, his eyes glued onto the robes. 

“They’re sect robes,” Wei Wuxian said. “Robes of the main family.” 

“Well, yes, you are in the sect, idiot.” Wei Wuxian stared at him, unspoken words hanging in the air between them like hung corpses. Wei Wuxian had left the sect more than a year ago, casting away the family that had fed him in favour of the disgraced Wen family, who clung onto his thighs, dragging him down into the pits of despair. Wei Wuxian never saw it that way, of course. Wei Wuxian saw it as paying off a debt, of helping those in need. The debt must have been three miles long if it required Wei Wuxian ruining his life for it. 

“I-I’m… but…” Wei Wuxian fiddled with the material between his fingers. The purple silk was most likely the richest thing Wei Wuxan had touched in a year, the robes he had been wearing in the Burial Mounds made of a coarse, itchy material. Jiang Cheng had burned it with the first chance he got. 

“You’re my brother, so you deserve to wear it. Now eat your meal before it gets cold and get dressed.” Jiang Cheng fled from Wei Wuxian’s side with the excuse of cleaning up Jin Ling, who had spectacularly managed to get food all over himself. From his peripheral, he watched as Wei Wuxian hesitantly ate his meal. It seemed he was in an entertaining mood. 

“Is someone coming over?” Wei Wuxian asked, his tone reluctant, watching as Jiang Cheng fussed over the child. He had been less controlling, lately, or perhaps he trusted Jiang Cheng more. Jiang Cheng didn’t think Wei Wuxian could ever rid himself of the overbearing watchfulness over Jin Ling. He eyes were still glued to Jin Ling, the child always within reach. He didn’t allow Jin Ling out of his sight. Jiang Cheng was afraid that Jin Ling would begin to think Wei Wuxian as his mother rather than his uncle. 

“Perhaps,” Jiang Cheng answered casually, forcing himself not to glance over to Wei Wuxian to see his expression. Was it twisted, unwilling, horrified? Did he think Jiang Cheng was selling him out? “Would you be averse to it if there is?” His eyes shot up without him meaning too, worry twisting his stomach into knots. Wei Wuxian’s expression was neither twisted, unwilling, or horrified. It was empty, as if he didn’t have any feelings at all, as emotionless as the bowl he was holding. 

And, then: “No. It’s your choice.” Surprise bloomed in Jiang Cheng’s chest, his wide eyes staring at Wei Wuxian. He had expected a tantrum, a multitude of denials, for shouts and screams to fill the room. That had been the usual play. Suspicion crept up on him soon enough. He narrowed his eyes at his brother, wondering what was going behind that facade of blankness. It was never anything good. 

“Who?” Wei Wuxian asked. 

“Nie Huaisang,” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought he’d be good company. You’ve been trapped in this room since you got here, and you’ve talked to no one but me.” Jiang Cheng said, deciding to be honest. Perhaps it would reveal to Wei Wuxian how much he worried, and while it embarrassed him to show how much he cared for his brother, it may make the prospect of seeing Nie Huaisang more open to him. 

“I’ve got A-Ling,”

“A-Ling is one year old, and can only babble. He hasn’t even said his first word yet.”

“But I’m happy with you and A-Ling. I don’t need anyone else.” It was like a punch to his stomach. Wei Wuxian had always brightened up at the chance to meet and talk to people. Dragging him away from an equally chatty vendor was hard work. Or anyone, really. Wei Wuxian thrived around people, and could never bear to be alone for too long. He used to sneak into to Jiang Cheng’s room just so he could avoid that fate. 

“It isn’t healthy. Don’t you like Nie Huaisang? You used to always write letters to him, remember?” Jiang Cheng said, his voice a feeble mutter. 

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian glanced down at his hands, fiddling with his empty bowl. Once he noticed he was doing it, he set it down onto the floor. “But what if he doesn’t like me anymore?” 

“He likes you just fine. You’re worrying more than a girl meeting with her crush.” 

Wei Wuxian ignored the jab. “What if he’s pretending?” 

“He’s not pretending,” Jiang Cheng sighed, even as an all-consuming worry reared its head. ‘What ifs’ appeared like a hurricane in his mind, jumping from bad scenario to bad scenario, the thoughts suffocating him. His stomach sunk further with each one. 

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to say yet another protest or possible fantasy that will play out. “Stop,” Jiang Cheng said before he could mutter another word. “I know what you are doing and it won’t work. Nie Huaisang will be arriving any minute now. I don’t know why you are so worried.” He knew. He knew it clear as day. He felt the same worry stirring in his gut, too, but probably tenfold. Wei Wuxian never had any care for his own wellbeing. 

This meetup with Nie Huaisang could be an elaborate game. But Jiang Cheng had never told Nie Huaisang that his brother was alive and hiding within the depths of Lotus Pier. That secret was his only safety against the army that was the Nie family, and most of all, the unstoppable Nie Mingjue. 

That man did not hold any hatred in his heart for Wei Wuxian, as far as Jiang Cheng knew. In fact, in the short moments they had spent with Mingjue along the Sunshot Campaign, the man seemed fairly amused by Wei Wuxian’s antics. Everyone usually was. But the man stood for justice only, and that was where his shortcomings lay. He only saw the truth presented to him and acted on that, never looking beyond. The fact that the Yiling Patriarch was an evil demon and building an army from the forgotten Wens within the depths of the ominous Burial Mounds, ready to begin another Sunshot Campaign, was handed to Nie Mingjue on a silver platter. Nie Mingjue ate it all up. 

So did Jiang Cheng. 

If he knew the truth - that the supposedly evil Wens that had died hated and brutalised in the Siege were innocent after all. That the supposed ‘army’ only included the non-cultivators, old, and young, who couldn’t do much fighting at all. That they had killed innocent people - would Nie Mingjue be more open to his point of view? Or would he call him deluded, living within his own fantasy world? 

Only time would tell. It seemed all Jiang Cheng was doing lately was waiting. Waiting for something that may never happen. It was something that gave him peace, at least, something to look forward to and keep him going. His sister would be happy if Wei Wuxian wasn’t miserable. She never liked to see her XianXian unhappy. Neither did he, for that matter. 

Nie Huaisang was waiting in the meeting hall when he decided to escape from the stifling atmosphere he had left the room in, once again reminding Wei Wuxian to get dressed before he left. He was admiring a piece of art on the wall, fan to his lips and a smile on his brow. Jiang Cheng was hit with the realisation that Nie Huaisang had never been to Lotus Pier before. They had never made it that far in their friendship. 

Once again, doubts flooded his mind.

Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang had been closer, he reminded himself. But how far did friendship reach when in the face of the entire world? 

“Jiang Cheng!” Nie Huaisang spun as he noticed him, lurking in the corner like an idiot. A flush immediately rose to his cheeks. He cleared his throat and stepped out of the shadows. Nie Huaisang didn’t seem to notice. “What’re you doing over there? Let me tell you, your food here is divine. They only have meat, meat, and meat in Qinghe! It gets boring after awhile.” 

A quick glance around the room told him that, yes, Nie Huaisang had really been served food from his reliable servants. He’d need to reward them. But that also meant the man had been waiting, for who knows how long. They had agreed upon a time, yet it seemed Nie Huaisang had come early, perhaps eager to see him after so long. 

Or eager to see someone else. 

While it was true that Jiang Cheng had not told Nie Huaisang about Wei Wuxian, the truth might of got out. Nie Huaisang was always sneaky like that. The mystery on how he sneaked porn into the Cloud Recesses was a code that even Wei Wuxian couldn't crack, no matter how much he bothered Nie Huaisang about it. Nie Huaisang was probably sneaky enough to find out about his brother by himself. There were spies of Yunmeng Jiang in other sects, and what’s to say there wasn’t a spy in Lotus Pier from Qinghe? What if the truth had gotten out? What if Wei Wuxian’s last seconds were ticking by while he remained oblivious?  

He forced his paranoid brain to come to a halt, mentally whipping himself for his overthinking. 

“Have you been waiting for long?” He asked, though the answer was glaringly obvious. 

“Hardly any time at all,” Nie Huaisang said, because that was the polite thing to do even if all evidence pointed against it. The barrier of time came between them, the atmosphere turning awkward. He didn’t know what to do to make it less so. To his luck, Nie Huaisang seemed to know what he was doing, unlike Jiang Cheng. “Less time than it would have taken Wei Wuxian, at least.” 

Wei Wuxian. Did he deliberately mention him, or was just another consequence of Jiang Cheng’s overreacting brain? 

“Ah - I’m sorry, Sect Leader Jiang. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Nie Huaisang immediately apologised, seeing Jiang Cheng’s complicated expression. His relaxed posture shriveled up, muttering of apologies leaving his mouth in rapid succession. His expression was one of fear. He looked like a dog begging for forgiveness from his master. 

Jiang Cheng’s lips twitched. It was a tricky game that they were playing. “You were just fine calling me ‘Jiang Cheng’ before. And I don’t know what you’re apologising for, unless it was for when you and Wei Wuxian bribed that sister into confessing her undying love for me at Caiyi town. Do not deny it, I know it was you.” He raised the bait and Nie Huaisang took it. The man’s brows raised, his body loosening from it’s tense state.

“Ah, how would I be able to do such a thing? I still don’t know the difference between a ghost and a ghoul! But you have to admit it was funny, especially when you ran away!” 

“Hilarious,” Jiang Cheng said dryly. 

“Anyway, how have you been? The last time we saw each other must have been…”

“The Wen training camp, yes.” Jiang Cheng finished. Nie Huaisang had been near silent in his movements since the Cloud Recesses, seemingly having disappeared off the earth, only appearing for brief moments such as the Wen training camp. He didn’t attend the battles of the Sunshot Campaign, hiding away in Qinghe’s little corner of the world, nor did he attend the Hunt at Phoenix Mountain. Many rumours spread around of cultivators: Jin Guangshan taking another beau, Lan Qiren enforcing more rules, Nie Mingjue’s successful victories, Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian; but the world had seemingly forgotten about the presence of Nie Huaisang. He had simply vanished into thin air. 

Yet here he was before Jiang Cheng, looking the same he did in their youth. His hair was longer, his shoulder broader, his face sharpened with age. Yet nothing had really changed, not really, and Jiang Cheng envied him for it. 

“I can’t exactly say I look back at the memory with happiness,” Nie Huaisang smirked, prompting a snort from Jiang Cheng. The Wen training camp was a time he would rather not look back on, and the three days that followed it even more so. “But it kept my brother happy, even with his hate for the Wens. He was actually quite excited at the little uprising we had. Well, you had, I was hiding at the time.” The fact did not surprise Jiang Cheng somehow.

“Your brother is still pushing you about training?” Jiang Cheng amusedly said. It has always been a joke between the three of them how much Nie Huaisang’s brother pushed at him to become a better fighter, and Nie Huaisang’s stubborn refusal to, running away from it at every turn. 

“Now more than ever,” Nie Huaisang followed him as he left the meeting room, the two of them walking side by side. His words were cold when talking about his family member. Jiang Cheng remembered back to the meeting. “But lately my brother has been distracted with brother XiChen and brother Guangyao, and everything else that has been going on.” Ah, the Venerated Triad, the Sunshot Campaign having birthed the sworn brothers. Would Wei Wuxian, Nie Hausiang, and him have been sworn brothers if they had stayed in close relations, instead of just sending letters to one another? Perhaps in a different universe. 

“Everything else?” He pointlessly asked. There was only one other thing that it could be. 

“Wei Wuxian did cause quite an uproar.” Nie Huaisang’s eyes flew to him. His voice had turned warm again. “Of course, you would know all about it, seeing as you were right in the center of it.” Ah, not so afraid, after all. His cowardness must truly be fleeting. He was strangely serious in the face of Wei Wuxian, his wobbly voice turning steady, his eyes gaining a sharp glint, as cutting as a blade. Nie Huaisang did not have many strengths, he realised, but his loyalty was certainly never to be questioned. 

Anger threatened to stir in his chest, like a volcano building up to an eruption, earthquakes setting off. He forced himself to settle down. After all, Nie Huaisang’s words were true: he had been in the eye of the storm, right beside Wei Wuxian. He felt like he still was. But the implications, at least, were untrue. Nie Huaisang spoke as  if Jiang Cheng had the capability of killing his brother. It was pure madness. 

“I found it to be calm there, not prompting hasty decisions.” The words were acid on his tongue. He wished it had been calm there. He wished he had planned everything out, but the only plan he had made was in the heat of the battle, rushed and confused and incomplete.

Step one: don’t let Wei Wuxian die. 

There wasn’t a step two. 

“You were calm in the middle of a horde of fierce corpses. I truly admire your bravery, Jiang Cheng. I’m afraid I’d die within the minute I’m thrown in there.” Nie Huaisang tilted his head, like a fox appreciating its prey from afar. His smile was bright, though, not losing its friendliness. 

“Why are you cold to everyone else but me? Your brother, Lan XiChen, Jin Guangyao. They may have participated in the Siege, yet as you said, I was in the center of it.” He stopped at the doors to his room, obsessively aware of how Wei Wuxian was right on the other side. Only a thin screen separated them. 

“You were.” Nie Huaisang agreed, stopping in front of him. “But after getting angry at me for ignoring him, my brother told me of how you were the one that claimed Wei Wuxian was dead, and that there was no body, because Master Lan assumed that he’d been torn apart. Yet, as we’ve discussed, you were right in the center. You were with Wei Wuxian. How did you escape and come out fine yet Wei Wuxian seemingly get torn apart?” 

“Maybe I pushed him,” Jiang Cheng pondered. “Maybe I killed him myself and let the corpses have at him.” 

“Maybe,” Nie Huaisang nodded. “But if there is one thing I truly know about you, Jiang Cheng, it is that you would never kill your brother. When the Waterborne Abyss attacked Caiyi town, I heard you attempted to go in after Wei Wuxian fell.” 

“Attempted. I wasn’t the one who caught him; Lan WangJi was.” Jiang Cheng said softly. Even now, the failure still burned in his heart. He had failed to protect his brother. (useless, useless, useless.)

“Perhaps, but you kept trying, and that was what mattered. I wasn’t even able to approach the water.” Nie Huaisang let out an embarrassed laugh. 

Jiang Cheng gathered up his nerves and steeled his heart. “That’s the thing,” He said, gripping the door handle. “I’m going to need you to approach the water.” He opened the door a smidge, the gap large enough to look in, but small enough that those inside wouldn’t notice unless looking directly at the door. 

Wei Wuxian was not, though, as he had expected. Wei Wuxian was occupied with Jin Ling, his touch doting as he shook a rattle which Jin Ling attempted to grab, exploding with laughter at each sound it made. His brother had thankfully dressed in the robes he had given him, the purple silk reminding him of days long gone, where burn scars hadn’t scorched the wood of Lotus Pier. The sight made possessiveness stir within him, a sense of contentment calming his racing thoughts. 

Nie Huaisang peeked through the gap, staring at Wei Wuxian as if he were a foreign animal that had yet to be discovered. He had no outward signs of surprise or shock, but happiness pulled his lips into a genuine smile, and he almost seemed ready to jump into the room and embrace Wei Wuxian for himself, just to check that he was really there. The man reached towards the door to pull it open further. 

Jiang Cheng stopped him before he could make a move. 

“What is it?” Nie Huaisang mouthed to him with irritation lacing his features, obviously remembering how well Wei Wuxian cultivated his core to the point where he had heightened senses, his hearing being one of the best. A dull knife pierced his heart at the rememberance. 

“He’s…sick.” Jiang Cheng whispered, knowing they had no need to be cautious anymore. 

His brows furrowed in concern. “Sick? Why don’t you get a doctor, then?” 

“Not that type of sick,” Jiang Cheng hissed. Nie Huaisang shrunk away in fear. “He’s…I can’t explain it. He’s just sick, okay? He doesn’t act like himself. He only eats when I tell him to and bathes when I force him. He doesn’t let Jin Ling out of his sight. It took me days to even be allowed to get close to him. And when I try to take Jin Ling away from him, he starts kicking and screaming and biting until he becomes unresponsive. The only time he is his usual self is in his sleep!” 

“So you mean he’s insane?” 

His anger erupted within him. “My brother is not insane!” 

Nie Huaisang backed away. “Okay, okay, okay, not insane, not insane. Sorry, sorry.” Jiang Cheng crossed his arms and glared at Nie Huaisang’s pathetic figure who slowly inched away from him until they were a good three feet away from each other. And then: “Why are you showing me this?” The man said in a shaky, vulnerable voice. Jiang Cheng’s glare lessened, instead turning his head to look at Wei Wuxian’s smiling face once again. 

“We need allies.” He said, turning to look back at Nie Huaisang. “People who can be trusted, who still like Wei Wuxian, but there are not many people in the world left. I cannot hide my brother forever. At some point, it's going to get out, and I’m not letting anyone take my brother away from me.” It was more than just a statement; it was a promise, one that he would do anything to live by. A whole army could threaten him yet he would still stand by his word.

“Why didn’t you just go to the Lans or Lan WangJi?” The smaller man asked. 

“Why would I go to Lan WangJi?” Nie Huaisang stared at him as if he were the stupidest man on the planet. He didn’t know what to make of it. In response to his silence, Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes before reaching for the door again. “What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng hissed once again, gripping Nie Huaisang’s wrist in a suffocating hold. 

“Opening the door,” He stated, as if it weren’t obvious enough. 

“Why?” 

“To see Wei Wuxian. Now move.” With surprising strength, Nie Huaisang tore his wrist out of Jiang Cheng’s hold and threw open the door. 

Wei Wuxian’s resulting flinch was all Jiang Cheng needed to immediately regret his hasty decision to show Nie Huaisang, jumping forward to kneel at his brother’s side, one hand protectively on Sandu. However, Nie Huaisang neither retreated nor attacked, simply kneeling in front of Wei Wuxian in much the same manner as Jiang Cheng, not dismayed by the fact Wei Wuxian shrank away from him and towards Jiang Cheng, holding Jin Ling tight in his arms. 

“Hey, Wei Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s me.”

Chapter Text

Nie Huaisang was a force to be reckoned with. Jiang Cheng had become introduced with this fact at the very beginning of their unofficial alliance, the easiness of Wei Wuxian’s wall lowering for the man taking his breath away, as well as his mental functions. Nie Huaisang had glided his way into Wei Wuxian’s life with the slickness of water, taking his space beside him as if he belonged there, and his place was never questioned. 

Upon Nie Huaisang’s arrival, with the man having announced himself by tearing into the room while Wei Wuxian shrunk against Jiang Cheng’s side, Jiang Cheng had only predicted the worse. Sure, Nie Huaisang was kneeling, with no visible weapons apart from the ever-present fan strapped to his belt which could probably meet its ugly demise with the slightest burst of Qi. Yet Jiang Cheng could not help but doubt the man he had known for a few years, in favour of his brother who he had known for thirteen years. 

After Nie Huaisang uttered his words, a silence was stretched long and thin, until Jiang Cheng was afraid that it could be stretched no further. The pregnant pause was one that Jiang Cheng froze in, tenseness building up in his body until it was overflowing, his limbs stuck in their positions, not moving an inch. 

Despite this, Nie Huaisang appeared relaxed and calm, his posture loose and careless, in a way Jiang Cheng could never be. He was always preparing for the next task, setting his sights higher and higher each time. He needed to, in order to catch up. 

More important than that, though, Jiang Cheng was afraid of Wei Wuxian’s reaction. This was his last chance, he realised. He did not know what he would do if Wei Wuxian built an impenetrable wall between him and Nie Huaisang too, so held back by the past. It was so unlike him. Perhaps he would have to surrender to the Lans like Nie Huaisang suggested, letting Lan WangJi get whatever he wanted from his brother, doing what he was pestering about for years. 

“Come back to Gusu, Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi always said, again and again, even after Wei Wuxian had repeated ‘no’ enough times to fill up a wall of his own. Wei Wuxian would like that; his own Wall of Discipline, except it would probably be full of careless words and senseless imagery rather than harsh rules that he so despised. 

They never found out what Lan WangJi wanted. They suggested things, of course, such as the upright man locking him away for his evil cultivation, shouting at him like Lan Qiren used to do when they were students. It became a fun game, after some time, to see how ridiculous the suggestions could get. It distracted them from the misery that they were in, the war that they were hopelessly fighting. 

It never became more than that, though, and Jiang Cheng never delved too deep into his brother’s and Lan WangJi’s friendship. He didn’t want to butt into his brother’s business, and Wei Wuxian never seemed to think too deeply into Lan WangJi’s offer. That was enough for Jiang Cheng. He didn’t want Wei Wuxian to leave his side like so many others had. 

Now, Jiang Cheng wished he found out what Lan WangJi so earnestly wanted from his brother, not caring about whose business it was. If he had let Wei Wuxian go, would he still be in the situation he is in right now?

It didn’t matter. 

The silence was broken by Wei Wuxian’s slight shifting in his seat, the shuffle of his robes brushing against the floor, the resulting grunt from Jin Ling at the movement. It spoke more than a thousand words could. Wei Wuxian glanced up at him, grey eyes unsure and hesitant, as if he were a child seeking guidance from his parents. 

It was at that moment Nie Huaisang saw the true fragility in Wei Wuxian, the delicateness of his condition, the meaning behind Jiang Cheng’s words. Wei Wuxian had never looked to other people in the past. He was full of himself like that, so selfish, believing he could handle everything. He never needed guidance or reassurance or anything of the sort. People looked to him for that and he provided it wholeheartedly. It was never the other way around. 

Jiang Cheng nudged him. It was not the rough hits they had given each other in the past, joking around as they punched and shoved to convey a point, but not to the point that it hurt. The nudge was a middle ground, and was like a whisper between them. He only felt warmth when Wei Wuxian nudged him back, but just a slight bit harder. An irresistible urge rose up in him, to see how far he could go with this, but he denied himself the right. He would not tempt fate. 

Then, without prompting, Nie Huaisang burst out with a babble of words that seemed to leave his mouth in an endless waterfall. He spoke and spoke and spoke, until Jiang Cheng thought he had no breath left to speak. 

He spoke about how they met, lingering baby fat still stubbornly clinging to their cheeks as they bumped into each other, Nie Huaisang seeking protection which Wei Wuxian’s so readily gave. He spoke about how once they were friends, all the mischief that they caused - which Nie Huaisang insisted was all Wei Wuxian, of course, as he was always too afraid and backed out in the end. Wei Wuxians expression begged to differ (it was strange seeing such a complex expression on his brother’s face, though not unwelcome) - and the trouble they got up to. He spoke about the late night parties, the fishing that they did, the secret books of porn. 

Wei Wuxian knew all these stories, of course. While Wei Wuxian did have a bad memory and was currently preoccupied with the state of his own mind, he was not incompetant. His memory was just fine - well, as good as it can be for Wei Wuxian - and he needed no help recalling anything. In fact, he recalled things too much . (Corpses, monster, hunger, help me, shijie!, helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme - Jiang Cheng had heard it all too much in the words that Wei Wuxian muttered to himself under his breath while he was asleep.)

Yet Wei Wuxian seemed to bask in the familiarity of the stories, hence Jiang Cheng did the same. He remembered back to Nie Huaisang’s letters, of stories he had long forgotten, and wished that these memories could be written down too so they would never be able to forget them. Perhaps later, when Wei Wuxian was successfully persuaded to sleep, Jiang Cheng could record his most favourite. 

It was only when Wei Wuxian was practically slumped against his side, sleepy and relaxed, as pliant as a newborn kitten, that he realised the true power of Nie Huaisang. How did he not recognise the tactic, when it had been used on himself? 

The soft lulls of Nie Huaisang’s voice, naturally gentle and unassuming, led them into a state of compliance, of unknowing submissiveness. Wei Wuxian had used the very same skill in the past to make others feel at ease in his loud presence. Wei Wuxian could be called a master of the art. Jiang Cheng was always envious of him. 

Nie Huaisang’s cowering and pathetic form was by no means threatening, and slipped through Wei Wuxian’s barricades as easily as Jin Ling did. He was not on guard at all, curled into Jiang Cheng’s side and running his fingers through Jin Ling’s short hair. Maybe that was Nie Huaisang’s intention. Jiang Cheng had not forgotten about the strength of Nie Huaisang’s grip around his wrist as he barged into the room, nor his sneakiness around the subject of Wei Wuxian. A Nie was still a Nie, after all. He now knew that.

But he also remembered the cold indifference that Nie Huaisang held for anyone who actively participated in the Siege, the silent anger. The way he talked of Wei Wuxian, protectively, admiringly. The expression he gained when he saw Wei Wuxian, the happiness that lit up his features, as bright as a star. The doting look he gained when looking at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian had always been a favourite of many. 

Jiang Cheng suddenly remembered that Nie Huaisang was just that little bit older than them both. 

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, interrupting the story of when Wei Wuxian bribed Nie Huaisang into talking with some pretty maidens, and they practically adopted him as one of their own. Nie Huaisang glanced up at him as if he had forgotten he was there, which was basically the usual while Wei Wuxian was in the room. Wei Wuxian gazed up at him also, leaning slightly away from his side. The only one who remained unresponsive was Jin Ling, who was asleep, dead to the world. 

“What do you mean?” Nie Huaisang said. His and Wei Wuxian’s knees were almost touching. How long did it take him for Wei Wuxian to relax in his presence? Jealous little child , an old lady had said to him once, when Wei Wuxian had gotten a sweet and he demanded one also. She wasn’t wrong. 

But wasn’t this what he wanted?

“Doing this. You didn’t have to entertain Wei Wuxian. You could have run away, out of Lotus Pier, and told the world. You could have told them of your suspicions even before you had seen Wei Wuxian, of the gap in the information. You could have told them anything at all and they probably would have believed you. Yet, here you are, telling stories to Wei Wuxian as if he were a child. The cultivation world would waste no time storming here if you told them.” Like the hungry little beasts they are. 

Wei Wuxian nudged him, a gentle hit in the side, as if he was trying to remind him of his presence, reprimanding him like a parent does to a naughty child. He supposed he was also guilty with the act of treating Wei Wuxian as if he were incompetent, no more than a brainless husk. 

He was anything but. There was intelligence and understanding behind those deadened eyes. 

“Why would I do that?” Nie Huaisang asked, seemingly befuddled with the questioning. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” 

Nie Huaisang’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Jiang Cheng, I know you don’t trust me just yet, but believe me on this. I mean no harm to either Wei Wuxian or you. I have already told you that Wei Wuxian is my friend, and I wish him the best. While I may have not taken an active part in the Sunshot Campaign or any great battles, I can help you with this and will do everything within my power to do so. It is not for you that I’m doing it for, but for Wei Wuxian.” 

His fan suddenly flickered up, opening, covering the bottom half of his face. “I promise that I won’t tell anyone, so you have no need to worry. Besides, didn’t you say you need allies? Why are you questioning it now?”

Why was he questioning it now? Perhaps it was because some innate part of him still didn’t trust Nie Huaisang. Perhaps it was because he just didn’t trust outsiders. Perhaps it was because he just wanted to keep his family safe. Perhaps it was because despite everything, he still wanted to keep Wei Wuxian to himself, imprisoning him with the depth of Lotus Pier. Perhaps it was for all those reasons and more. 

Wei Wuxian needed this, though. Jiang Cheng needed this. 

A sigh from their silent audience. A roll of the eyes. That was usually Jiang Cheng’s line. Funny, how all things were changing. 

“Wei Wuxian is injured and wanted by the rest of the world. They want to kill him. Am I not right in having my suspicions about people who have remained silent until now?” Nie Huaisang’s eyes turned to stone, hard and cold. 

“What more do you want me to say? What can I do to convince you?” Nie Huaisang’s fan snapped shut. “What is this game you’re playing? First you invite me here, show me Wei Wuxian, and now you’re acting as if I’m the enemy here. Just what do you expect of me?” 

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what he expected. He didn’t know what he wanted. He had thought he wanted Wei Wuxian to establish contact with another human being, To gain some warmth, some comfort, from that touch of reality. Yet here it was, delivered into his hands, and he found himself unhappy. Jealousy coiled within him, suspicion making him tense. The two feelings molded together, swirling in his stomach, hungry and aching to be let out. 

What if Wei Wuxian left him for Nie Huaisang?

The thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. 

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Jiang Cheng’s head whipped around to Wei Wuxian. He had a strange expression on his face, like he didn’t know whether to be angry or remain emotionless, his features twisted up in a comedy of a pout. He had remained silent until now. Disconnected and quiet, like an obedient little doll. It was as if Jin Ling was his stuffed toy, snuggled in his arms, held close to his body. As always. 

Nie Huaisang’s eyes also flashed to him, but otherwise remained quiet. Patient. Peaceful. Watching. Waiting. 

“A-Cheng,” One of Wei Wuxian’s hands grasped his own. His hand was warm. A comfortable sort of warmth, one that soaked through Jiang Cheng’s skin and sunk into his bones. The tenseness stored up in his body was set loose, his shoulders relaxing, feeling as if a thousand weights had been lifted from his shoulders. “It’s okay.” I trust him , was left unsaid, but Jiang Cheng heard it loud and clear. Jealousy reared its vicious head once again, but he stomped the petty feeling down. He would get nowhere otherwise, he knew. 

He wished he didn’t have this ugly feeling inside of him. It was a beast that would never be tamed. 

“Anyway,” Wei Wuxian continued, letting go off Jiang Cheng’s hand to lift Jin Ling closer to him, the softly snoring boy fisting Wei Wuxian’s purple robe in his tiny hand, snuggling into the man’s neck. “I’m not leaving here.”

“You’re what?” Jiang Cheng spluttered out, his brain short stopping dead in its tracks. From his peripheral, he watched Nie Huaisang’s mouth gape open like a fish. 

“I’m not leaving here.” Wei Wuxian repeated, plain and simple, as if he were talking about the weather. And then his mood changed, as if a switch had been flicked, lips trembling and eyes wide. “You did say I could stay here, with you and Jin Ling, right?”

Was Wei Wuxian capable of manipulation? He didn’t like to think so, yet this was proof of anything but. 

“Yes,” He said, dumbfounded. “But you’re talking as if…” As if he meant forever . As if he was never going to step one foot outside again, as if he was happy to be shackled inside Lotus Pier for eternity. Before, that would have made Jiang Cheng happy. But this was not before; this was now. Now, those were the last words he wanted to hear, and he despised the little spark of joy that burst in his chest. 

Yes, he wanted Wei Wuxian to stay in Lotus Pier. Forever would be nice. But Wei Wuxian wasn’t talking about it in the same way Jiang Cheng was; Jiang Cheng wanted him to live there, but also have the freedom that he deserved, to go out and explore the way he loved doing. Wei Wuxian seemingly didn’t have the same ideas. 

Where was his Wei Wuxian gone? Where had the boy who spoke about adventures and dreams and attempting the impossible disappeared off too?

Most importantly, how did he get him back?

“What about in the future when you’re better, and then we can go outside to visit the streets and the lake and all the things we used to do.” Jiang Cheng’s voice strained against his own words, somewhat desperate, somewhat exhausted. Wei Wuxian shook his head, looking extremely uncomfortable and affronted, as if it were an offense that Jiang Cheng mentioned the mere idea of going outside. He did not speak anymore, seemingly having used up his total word count for the day. 

“But you loved going outside…” And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Wei Wuxian had loved going outside, because there was never anything for him inside. The Jiang family had liked having tea on the gazebo or in the courtyard, as Yunmeng had always been hot in the summer and not as cold as Gusu may be in the winter. Sword training, archery, all cultivation practices - they were performed outside. Jiang Cheng had spent most of his time outside and so did the rest of the disciples. There was simply never anything for them inside. 

Yet, now, it was a different situation for Wei Wuxian. Their family was gone and they only had each other left, but Jiang Cheng spent his time inside with Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling, because that was the only place he could keep him. Cultivation was all but memories for Wei Wuxian (my fault, my fault), possibly bad ones that he would rather not remember. They had no other friends, and the one they did have Jiang Cheng brought him straight to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian didn’t even need to take a step outside, as Jiang Cheng had brought everything to him. Now there was nothing for Wei Wuxian outside, only painful memories and heartache and a world that despised him. Yet inside - inside he had everything. 

It was ultimately Jiang Cheng’s fault for Wei Wuxian’s reluctance to go outside. 

Before he could stew in any more guilt-ridden thoughts or drown in his misery, Nie Huaisang spoke up from his self-imposed silence, his expression unreadable to Jiang Cheng’s narrowed eyes. He wondered what the little fox was planning now. He remembered Nie Huaisang’s proclamations and Wei Wuxian’s careful words and decided whatever it was, he supposed he could go along with it. 

“Wei Wuxian, I’m going to need that trust.” The man reached out a hand towards Wei Wuxian, coming close to Jin Ling, but Wei Wuxian hurriedly shuffled away so Jin Ling was out of Nie Huaisang’s grasp. The Nie heir had no reaction towards the obvious distrust of the action, and calmly explained. “It’ll be easier if Young Master Jin remained here.” 

Jiang Cheng knew, from experience, that those were the wrong words to say. There was no separating Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling. He wouldn’t be surprised if the two of them had molded into one being now. Of course, he didn’t say anything in defense for Nie Huaisang, as he had fallen straight into that one. A sick sense of joy curled in his stomach as Wei Wuxian scooted further away from Nie Huaisang, as if he were suddenly a monster that was about to attack. There it was again, that petty beast inside of him. 

Nie Huaisang was quick to correct himself. “Of course, Young Master Jin is allowed to come.” Wei Wuxian relaxed the slightest bit. 

“And where exactly are we going?” Jiang Cheng asked, rolling his eyes as he stood up, feeling his bones ache and crack as if he were an old man. It was purely Wei Wuxian that had aged him by centuries. Wei Wuxian stood up with him, clutching his sleeve as if he were a lost pet. 

“The side of the lake and the dock beside it,” He pointed to the yawning expanse of the lake just outside the window, the water glittering in the midday sun, each lotus a splash of colour. “Is it ever used?”

“Hardly,” Jiang Cheng answered. “It is too close to my quarters that disciples don’t ever go there.” Except for stupid dares and the such, but Jiang Cheng had been quick to correct that once he had taken up the post as Sect Leader. Wei Wuxian had called him a spoilsport once he had learnt of it, and whispered mischievous words into the young disciples’ ears. The next day there was a burst of disciples jumping into the lake from that very dock, as it was secluded and had no tourists wandering around in boats in the area. When Wei Wuxian was gone, the disciples didn't dare. 

Him and Wei Wuxian had also hung out on that very dock, as it was so easy to see when Jiang FengMian needed to watch them when they were younger. 

Now the dock remained abandoned, with only the ghost of laughter to accompany it. 

“Great,” Nie Huaisang grabbed Wei Wuxian’s hand - the one that was clutching Jiang Cheng’s sleeve - and before either of them could process it, pulled Wei Wuxian along and out of the room. 

Jiang Cheng only had a moment for his brain to catch up, staring wide eyed at the two men’s departure. Panicked strangled him. “Wait! Hey!” He stumbled after Nie Huaisang, securely wrapping his hand around Wei Wuxian’s arm first. Adrenaline washed through his veins; it was in the middle of the day, where it was bright and clear and visible, and anyone could walk upon them. Walk upon Wei Wuxian. “What do you think you’re doing!? We could run into anyone!”

“We didn’t even pass anyone on our way here and it seems like your disciples are avoiding you. And anyway, you’re the Sect Leader, aren’t you? If we run into anyone, you can just swear them to secrecy, or, you know, the alternate way.” Nie Huaisang made a cutting motion on his neck. Jiang Cheng stared at him, aghast, not knowing whether the man was serious or not. He didn’t want to think so, as Nie Huaisang was always hiding from violence, and his actions were comical, a teasing smile on his face. But his eyes were hard and cold, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think he was joking. 

“I suppose,” Jiang Cheng said warily. If it came to it, he would do it for his brother, even if the offender was of his own sect. “Wei Wuxian doesn’t have shoes on,” He pointed out, wanting to move away from the topic at hand. Wei Wuxian looked down at himself, as if he didn’t realise his own feet were bare and probably cold. He had escaped from Nie Huaisang’s hold and was walking pliantly on his own, though his posture was guarded as if someone was going to jump out of the shadows and steal Jin Ling away from him.

“It’s only us two,” Nie Huaisang said. Jiang Cheng reluctantly nodded. 

The hallways led to a doorway, small and unassuming, that opened up to the forest. The lake was barely a few feet away. It was the ‘backdoor’ of Lotus Pier, though few people knew about it. He asked how Nie Huaisang knew about it. The other man replied that he had done his homework. Jiang Cheng wondered how the map of Lotus Pier became his ‘homework’ and how he even got hold of them. Nie Huaisang was always crafty, and he stomped down the suspicion mushrooming inside of him. He was not going over that conversation again. 

As they walked further, the lake was further revealed to them, the abandoned dock barely a few paces away. 

The beauty of the lake was even more splendid when not peering through a window. While Jiang Cheng had lived in Yunmeng his whole life, he swore he would never get used to the spectacular lake that was the pride and joy of his area. The lake practically glowed in the rays of the sun, gleaming like a thousand diamonds. 

Wei Wuxian, by his side, stared into the lake with an unreadable expression. 

Jin Ling chose that time to wake up. Jiang Cheng’s heart thawed as he watched Jin Ling’s eyelashes flutter open, taking in the scenery of the Yunmeng lake for the first time in, well, forever. Jiang Yanli hadn’t been back to Lotus Pier since before she had Jin Ling, having stayed in Lanling for the safety of both her and the baby. The short time Jiang Cheng had him after Jiang Yanli’s death he hadn’t ventured outside, as everywhere around Lotus Pier he found nostalgic. It was safer to stay indoors and not ruminate on moments long gone. 

A giggle escaped the toddler, his small hand reaching towards the calm waters, excitement fizzling bright in his eyes. Wei Wuxian was happy to satisfy his curiosity. The demonic cultivator wandered closer to the lake, his feet dipping into the water and the bottom of his robes soaking through. He crouched down and carefully dipped Jin Ling’s own feet into the water, producing a wave of laughter from the boy. 

Contentment leaked into Jiang Cheng’s heart. 

Then Nie Huaisang had to speak, ruining all sense of joy Jiang Cheng possibly had.  

“I think you should really include the Lans in on this,” Jiang Cheng frowned and crossed his arms, refusing to glance at Nie Huaisang, keeping his eyes fixed on Wei Wuxian. It was childish, something that he should be embarrassed to do, but he was only feeling petty at that moment. 

“Aren’t you the one that is currently having a petty feud with the Venerated Triad, including Lan XiChen?” 

“It’s not a petty feud,” Nie Huaisang childishly huffed. They were all children, really. Children playing an adult’s game. They never had the opportunity to grow up. “And I'll stop it…eventually. The Lans would be loyal allies,”

“That is only when Lan Qiren pulls that stick out of his ass, and that will be never.” If Jiang Cheng approached Lan Qiren with the truth about Wei Wuxian being alive, that would be the end. It was well-known that Wei Wuxian is a plague upon Lan Qiren’s record, the only stain that he could not fix. Lan Qiren held Wei Wuxian in pure contempt, the demonic cultivation driving him further away into a pit of hate. He would not hesitate in rallying an army against Lotus Pier.

“The Lan Sect is kind and seeks justice above all else. The Wall of Discipline is proof enough. As long as you tell them the truth about Wei Wuxian then we could sway them to our side.”

“And what is that truth?”

“Wei Wuxian has done nothing wrong.”

Jiang Cheng sharply turned to face Nie Huaisang. “He killed Jin Zixuan as far as we know. He was at least partly to blame for my sister’s death. I have tried to forgive him for that, but you shouldn’t push it aside so frivolously, as if my sister’s death doesn’t matter.” 

“It does matter,” Nie Huaisang said. “ She does matter. But Wei Wuxian matters too, and he’s still alive, for now. You are right; the truth will eventually get out, and the Lanling Jin clan will keep pushing at your door, no matter if you have their future heir or not. And if we don’t have the Lan Sect, Brother Guangyao will sway Brother XiChen to his side, and while I can hold off my brother to an extent, he will not act against two of his own sworn brothers, especially Brother XiChen. That’s why we need the Lan clan on our side, especially Brother XiChen. This whole debacle of yours will not work without him. Wei Wuxian would be dead before we knew it.”

Jiang Cheng turned away again, glaring at the crystal water. Jin Ling’s laughter rang out like tinkling bells, his small legs walking about in the water, his hands secured by Wei Wuxian’s grip. Wei Wuxian was practically soaked by Jin Ling’s splashing and splattering, but he didn’t seem to mind, a gentle smile on his face as he guided Jin Ling through the water, making sure he got none near his eyes. 

“How do you know we can trust them? What makes you so sure? It would be easy for them to turn on us as soon as we’ve told them Wei Wuxian is alive. They fought against him in the Siege.” 

“So did you. So did I. Yet you still came to me.” Nie Huaisang sounded so sure of himself.  Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. 

“You hardly participated, or, as I recall, didn’t participate at all.”

“I let it happen, though. I stood aside without saying a word against it.” 

“Well, it isn’t as if people take your words seriously.” Without that power backing him up, people were quick to push Nie Huaisang aside. It was only power that mattered in this world. Only the strong survived. Jiang Cheng had determined to be strong from the very beginning, while Nie Huaisang had obviously not. 

“True,” Nie Huaisang admitted. “But give me at least some credit; I am the Qinghe Nie heir.” 

“The weakest one,”

“You’re so mean, Jiang Cheng.” Nie Huaisang pouted. “And while I am lacking in the strength department, I am capable of other things.”

“Like what? Painting fans?” 

“Well, yes. But I have other skills too.” 

“I didn’t realise hiding was a skill.”

“Observation. I observe things. I listen to gossip. People are easy to control once you know what they want and what they’d do to get them. Hiding and sneaking around leads to finding out things from gossip, which then leads to blackmail, which then leads to a threat against someone. Eventually, it will mean their downfall.”

“I don’t want the downfall of anybody.”

“Not yet, but what happens when Jin Guangshan refuses to give up simply because he is too stubborn and doesn’t want to be humiliated by his obvious lies? That man will not give up simply because you believe that Wei Wuxian deserves freedom.”

Wei Wuxian glanced over at the sound of his name, perking up like a cat, invisible tail swaying in curiosity. He wanted in on the conversation, Jiang Cheng could tell, and he had a right to. Here they were, deciding his future as if he were only a pawn in a game, with no regard to his own opinion. Wei Wuxian had told them he had wanted to stay in Lotus Pier forever, but he was evidently enjoying the outdoors, the coolness of the wind on his skin, the swaying water on his feet, the rush of freedom that came with it. This is why Nie Huaisang pushed them outside, Jiang Cheng realised. Wei Wuxian had forgotten what freedom had felt like. 

He wouldn't be happy staying in Lotus Pier long-term. He would get sick of it. And then what? They might have lost their chance by then. 

“Fine, what amazing gossip have you got to share that will possibly help?” 

“It isn’t so much gossip-”

“What a brilliant start.” Jiang Cheng snarked. 

“As it is a simple observation.” Nie Huaisang continued, ignoring his snide words. “I’m surprised you haven't picked up on it yourself.”

“What? Your stupidity? No, I picked that up long ago.”

“Heavens, why are you so rude?” Nie Huaisang huffed crossing his arms like a reprimanding parents. 

“Maybe you should get to the point faster.” 

“It would help if you actually kept quiet. I think I would prefer to talk to Wei Wuxian and he isn’t even responding.” Nie Huaisang said, gesturing to said man, who had been distracted by Jin Ling’s presence once again. “Anyway, the point is that yes, Gusu Lan did fight against Wei Wuxian in the Siege.”

“Was the buildup all for that? If it is, your observation skills are astounding, I’m very impressed. I hadn’t noticed the whole of Gusu Lan fighting against my brother.” 

“Not the whole of Gusu Lan. Lan WangJi didn’t participate.”

Jiang Cheng turned more serious, his brows furrowing. “Lan WangJi? I thought he’d be the one leading them; he had always been against my brother.” 

“Not always.” Nie Huaisang cryptically said. “In fact, not at all. Lan WangJi was never against your brother.” Jiang Cheng had half a mind to call Nie Huaisang crazy.

“Yes he was. Didn’t you see the way he’d tail him? He always wanted to take Wei Wuxian back to Gusu to perform who-knows-what on him. The Gusu Lan Sect has always been against demonic cultivation, Lan WangJi especially. He hated Wei Wuxian for it.”

“No, he kept warning Wei Wuxian of the dangers of demonic cultivation, rightfully so. Demonic cultivation poisons the body and the mind, and Lan WangJi knew that, and so he kept warning Wei Wuxian of the dangers and wanted to take him back to Gusu because they’re known for their purifying skills. Lan WangJi didn’t hate your brother, he cared for him .” 

Jiang Cheng’s nose scrunched up in confusion. “Why?” 

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes, looking like he was completely done with him. He tried not to take offense, for Wei Wuxian’s sake. “Lan WangJi loves Wei Wuxian, you idiot.” He hissed. 

“What?” Was Jiang Cheng’s intelligent reply. He was somewhat glad Wei Wuxian hadn’t looked back at them again. 

“From the very start Wei Wuxian teased Lan WangJi, do you not think that would spark some sort of interest? And then Wei Wuxian kept coming back to tease him in Gusu, in the Wen’s Discussion Conference, in the Wen training camp. And not to mention what happened on Phoenix Mountain.”

“What happened on Phoenix Mountain?”

“Nothing that you need to know,” 

Jiang Cheng remained silent for a moment, his brain slow in processing the fact that Lan WangJi was apparently in love with Wei Wuxian. It almost seemed comical. Jiang Cheng half expected Nie Huaisang to burst out in laughter, shouting ‘ fooled you! ’ but no such thing happened. He was almost disappointed. 

“And Wei Wuxian is definitely in love with Lan WangJi, too.” Nie Huaisang said offhandedly.

“ What. ”

Was that possible? Wei Wuxian had never mentioned anything about love or any type of those sort of feelings to him. Then again, he and Wei Wuxian had never shared feelings with one another. Both of them liked to keep it bottled up, which eventually led to disaster. Wei Wuxian was an undeniable flirt who was able to charm any woman, but he had never shown any interest in anyone before. He flew from person to person, never landing anywhere, a free bird. Except, Jiang Cheng realised, he did keep going back to one person: Lan WangJi. Jiang Cheng had never actually seen him as a possible marriage partner though. 

Everything started piecing together in his mind. All the things he had pushed away as unimportant before came rushing back, and he suddenly realised so much lined up with the fact that Lan WangJi and Wei Wuxian loved each other. 

Wei Wuxian loved talking about Lan WangJi. After their Gusu Lan disciple days, he had talked non-stop about him, to Jiang Yanli, to Jiang FengMian, to anyone who would willingly or unwillingly listen. Jiang Cheng had thought he had just loved the sound of his own voice, but if it were for that reason, Wei Wuxian would rather have talked about himself. While it had died down eventually, there was the occasional comment about Lan WangJi that had seemingly sprung out of nowhere. The process had repeated again and again each time they had met Lan WangJi. 

Jiang Cheng did not know what to feel with the recent development, a mixture of feelings twirling in his stomach. Did that mean Wei Wuxian would eventually leave too?

“Okay, Lan WangJi loves Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian loves Lan WangJi. So you want to, what? Go up to Lan WangJi to tell him that we know of his undying love for Wei Wuxian and so he should make the whole Gusu Lan sect forgive Wei Wuxian’s crimes?” 

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, irritation pulling down on his lips before he leaned in as if he had a juicy piece of gossip that shouldn’t reach the invisible ears surrounding them. “Anyway, I’ve heard Lan WangJi is in seclusion.”

“Then what use is he?” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, completely worn out from the conversation Wei Wuxian glanced back at him, worried eyes meeting his own before he turned away again, assured that everything was fine. 

“Brother XiChen would do anything for his brother. Anything. I am surprised that Brother XiChen had participated in the Siege at all, since it went against Lan WangJi’s wishes. Now, imagine, Lan WangJi is probably sad from Wei Wuxian’s supposed death, and Brother XiChen obviously wouldn’t want to upset his brother further. In fact, he would want to make him happy. What would make him happy? Well, the fact of Wei Wuxian’s survival would do.”

“Stop speaking to me as if I’m a five year old.” Jiang Cheng snapped. 

“Well, you were slow to catch on before, I’m treating you appropriately.” Nie Huaisang muttered under his breath. Jiang Cheng ignored him. 

“Lan XiChen already knows that Wei Wuxian is alive.”

“He does?”

“Sort of,” Jiang Cheng squirmed, sounding less sure of himself. “He hinted at it. He told me that I could go to him if I ever needed something hidden.”

“Well, that’s a good sign, and proves my point further. But I don’t think Brother XiChen would have told Lan WangJi about his suspicions until they’re confirmed. He wouldn’t have wanted to give Lan WangJi a false sense of hope only to have it crushed. It would make the pain harder to deal with, I suppose.” 

“How are you so certain Lan XiChen would react like this?”

“Well, I would do the same for my brother. Wouldn’t you?” 

Jiang Cheng remained silent. 

“Sect Leader!” Their heads snapped towards the direction of the voice. It sounded frighteningly close. Panic seized him. 

“Crap,” Jiang Cheng cursed, already rushing towards Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang remained glued to his position. Wei Wuxian stared at him with large grey eyes, arms tight around Jin Ling. “Okay, Wei Wuxian, you have to hide. You have to give me A-Ling.” Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened further, if that were even possible. “I’ll keep him safe, and when they’re gone I’ll give A-Ling back, it’ll only be for a short moment.”

“Sect Leader!” The voice repeated. Jiang Cheng recognized it as the voice of his head disciple. 

“Please, Wei Wuxian.” Slowly, Wei Wuxian gave Jin Ling to him, looking as if it physically pained him to do so. Jiang Cheng glanced around, searching for possible hiding spaces, before his eyes landed on the dock. “Okay, now hide under the dock, like we used to, remember. Just stay there until I come get you, okay?” Wei Wuxian nodded to show his understanding, but only glanced at the dock and then back to Jiang Cheng. Or more specifically, Jin Ling. 

“I’ll keep him safe.” Jiang Cheng said. “I’ll keep him safe.” Wei Wuxian frowned and finally dunk under water, swimming to the dock, out of sight. 

As if on cue, his head disciple and another nameless one appeared before them, their eyes large and cheeks pink as they stared between Nie Huaisang and him.

“Sect Leader,” The head disciple repeated for the third time, staring at him, who was in the water up to his knees with a toddler squirming in his arms. Jiang Cheng knew how stupid he looked, but stood with a stony expression on his face, urging the disciple to go on. The disciple cleared his throat before continuing. “A Gusu Lan messenger has arrived with a letter from the Gusu Lan Sect Leader.”

Nie Huaisang made an expression that practically screamed: ‘There! All your problems? Solved!’ 

“Tell him I’m busy,” Jiang Cheng said, and watched as the disciples’ eyes darted between him and Nie Huaisang once again. To make himself sound less rude, he added: “Make sure you treat him as a guest; offer him a room and food. Dismissed.” The disciples nodded and reluctantly left, glancing back a few times until Jiang Cheng glared at them, taking pleasure in their fear as they hurried off. 

He shuffled over to Nie Huaisang, forced him to take Jin Ling into his arms despite his spluttering and waded back into the water, uncaring of his clothes. He swam closer to the dock before ducking under it. 

Wei Wuxian was not there. 

Chapter Text

Xue Yang wasn’t just hungry. He was thirsty too, his throat parched, feeling like an animal had crawled into his throat and died there due to its own dehydration. Sweat poured down his back, despite him thinking that there was nothing left to sweat, his robes stuffy and irritating, making him uncomfortable in his own skin. And his hand hurt. His hand always hurt. He had experienced many things in his short life time, but he didn’t think he had ever experienced as much pain as he did when that monster ran his hand over when he was younger. 

The only thing Xue Yang could have done to try and treat his hand was to wrap a torn piece of material around his fingers. He was a street rat, and there was no avoiding that. Anyone he went to for help only had to glance at his dirty face and muddy clothes to know that he was in no position to pay for any treatment, like those young masters he had watched prance around in the market were. Beasts, the lot of them. He would be like them one day, he knew it. He would be above them. He had sworn it from that day forth, at the ripe age of seven. 

His anger had never burned brighter. Revenge curled within him like an inferno. It had stuck with him since that day, burning away, enduring, growing day by day. 

Since then, he had wandered around. Aimlessly. Pointlessly. Without any purpose except to terrorize anyone he could, if only to gain a brief moment of amusement before he moved on once again. His life wasn’t getting any better, and his hand still hurt, and he was thirsty and hungry and sweaty and he just wanted to go to sleep, and doubts had begun settling down in his mind, building, multiplying, forming their own little colony inside his head. 

He was still just a little street rat, even six years after the act. It seemed the world was determined to keep him that way. 

The Yunmeng area had practically called to him for days now, and hence he had followed like a good little sheep. His brain conjured up sights of the sparkling lake that he could perhaps take a dip in, washing him of his uncomfortable sweat. He might even be able to steal a few lotus roots from unsuspecting farmers and cook them out in the forest. He could practically taste the sweet flavour on his tongue just thinking about it. 

Xue Yang was never one to simply imagine such things. He went out and grabbed what he wanted if he ever wanted something. Contemplating would get him nowhere.

He found a few Yunmeng Jiang disciples taking a dip in the lake and blended among them like a snake, throwing off his own robe to plunge into the water. He was not the best at swimming, but he was competent enough to sneak a few lotus pods away without anyone noticing. And then, satisfied, he made his way into the forest, found a secluded area, and began a small fire - it was sure to be cold out soon. He caught a rabbit along the way, gripping it by the ears as it squirmed in his hold, and he only watched it, fascinated. 

It would be easy to snap its neck. 

A sense of euphoria curled in his stomach. This was power, he was sure. To hold such might over a life, to be able to bend or break it depending on your will, to be unstoppable. A sudden, intrusive thought occurred to him, appearing in his mind out of nowhere: the disgusting delight detonating in his stomach is possibly what those Chang dogs felt too, when they smirked and laughed and snorted like little pigs as he was pushed down as the cart began to move, and suddenly all he knew was pain.

Xue Yang took off his robe and tied it into a makeshift bag, placing the squeaking rabbit into it, not allowing it to escape. He could have it for dinner later. There was no need to rush its death. What little compassion he had left in his heart pitied the small, struggling creature. He knew, better than anyone, that it was just the way of the world. This little rabbit would take the edge of his hunger for days to come. 

It was a cycle, monotonous and boring. He could never escape it. He closed his eyes and prayed for a change to come, for something good to come into his life. 

There was a snap of a twig behind him. 

His heart almost burst out his chest. A million different possibilities rushed through his head - he didn’t know what sort of creatures lived in the Yunmeng forest. A tiger, perhaps? But no, that was just his brain running wild, high of adrenaline and a mind too cautious. He didn’t know the possibility of running into a tiger so close to civilisation, but it certainly wasn’t high. Xue Yang was smart enough to know that. 

He turned and faced the one who dared to intrude on him. 

Well, it certainly wasn’t a tiger. It wasn’t an animal of any kind, but a man, with robes sticking to his skin and hair clinging to his gaunt cheeks. He looked hungrier than Xue Yang, and he didn’t think that possible. He could eat a horse. The man had bare feet, dirty with mud from trampling through with no protection, and was bad news if Xue Yang had ever seen it. Perhaps a crazy man running from the law. But the man’s expression was soft even while his bones cut through his skin and his eyes were like those of the men and women Xue Yang had seen taken street rats like him and given them a home.

They were full of warmth and security and other things Xue Yang could put no name to. He had never experienced those cozy feelings, had never been directed at him. He was too mischievous, too greedy, too angry, too jealous, too, too, too . He was too much of everything, never at the perfect amount. 

Well, he never needed them. He survived well enough on his own. 

And then he noticed: the man was wearing purple. The purple of the Yunmeng Jiang sect, with the disciples Xue Yang had blended in with. One of the four major sects. A cultivator, then. 

Xue Yang had once dreamed of being a cultivator. Prosperous, rich, a sure way to a non-hungry, non-thirsty, non-sweaty future. A future where he would be equal to those Chang people, possibly even above them. He had the talent, he knew, cradled within him, warm and comforting as it flowed through his veins. But his time was quickly passing by and his time for cultivation would be over before it even began. There was no stopping it, but he still held out hope. 

And, well, there was always that demonic cultivation, began by Xue Yang’s own idol: Wei Wuxian. 

Perhaps this man was his chance, as crazy and naive as he seemed. He had prayed for something, someone, anything good for him. Then this man appeared. He must be there for him , sent by the gods. This man was his. 

Xue Yang shot up, attempting to look as innocent and as foolish as he had seen other orphans be once the faintest of attention was on them. 

“Big Brother,” Xue Yang greeted, bowing low. Older people were always so finicky about their age: being greeted as someone much older is an insult to their looks, being greeted as someone much younger is an insult to their intelligence and experience. People were never happy. This man, though, looked a few years Xue Yang’s senior, but not too old. Yet his eyes were made for someone who had centuries on him, not some early-twenties cultivator. That was one of their powers, wasn’t it? Eternal youth, or something like that.  

The man’s mouth opened, hesitant, as if he were afraid of frightening Xue Yang away. The man didn’t know that nothing could scare Xue Yang away, no atrocity so fearsome, no action so wicked. Xue Yang did not want to be a street rat forever. 

“What are you doing?” The man asked. His voice was rough, broken, yet there was something uniquely soothing about it. 

Xue Yang remembered how the other kids curled up on themselves, as if retreating into an invisible shell, and did the same. Xue Yang had always been a master actor. Pretending he was a spinless, innocent thirteen-year-old boy was as easy as breathing. He had used to act in the exact same way, but he had grown since then. Matured. He would not fall for a simple act like he had before, when it had cost him so dearly. 

“This-this one was just…” He glanced at the man, to the fire, back to the man. Fearfully: wide eyes, nervous gaze, fiddling hands, shrinking posture. He had done it too many times to count. The man stepped forward, as if to come, to soothe, but Xue Yang took a step back. The cultivator stopped where he stood. 

“You’re hungry,” I think you’re more hungry than I am , Xue Yang thought, noticing the skin stretched across his thin wrists, sharp bones sticking out as if trying to break through the barrier to the outside world. Xue Yang hoped he was not dealing with a skeleton that had emerged from the grave. “I can get you more food if you’d like. Lotus roots will hardly fill you.” 

“Um, thank you, but I’ve got a rabbit as well,” Xue Yang pointed out, nervously gesturing to the struggling material by his side. As if to further prove his point, he took the rabbit out, holding it by its ears. People never liked greedy kids. Sure enough, the man hesitantly stepped closer, close enough for Xue Yang to notice the bell tinkling on his belt, the bandages hidden under his sleeves, and the scent of lotuses and something sweet that filled his senses. 

He was distracted enough that he let the man take the wiggling rabbit from Xue Yang, cradling it in his arms. The rabbit didn’t look any happier in his arms, but shied away from Xue Yang, as if holding a grudge against him and decidingly snuggling up to the man in favour. “This rabbit would do no good. It is too skinny, you’d get nothing but bones.” What the man said was true; the rabbit wasn’t like the plump, fat ones Xue Yang had seen before, but he could make do with what he found. 

This man had probably never went a day without three meals. The lucky bastard. He was probably just as privileged as those Chang dogs, though his figure didn’t fit it. 

The man bit his lip, nervous. “If you’d like, there is good food and a place to sleep in Lotus Pier.” He gently, hesitantly, took hold of Xue Yang’s wrist. Checking for potential, he realised as he felt something course through him. It was a peculiar feeling. It didn’t feel like he thought it would be like. It was dark and suppressing, as if ink was running through his veins, staining his insides with its blackness. Xue Yang suppressed a shudder while alarm bells rang loud in his head. They warned him of danger. 

The feeling receded after the man’s hand retreated. It must have been his mind playing tricks on him. It surely was not the man, whose body looked like it could be blown away by a particularly strong gust of wind, with those damned caring eyes and gentle touches. Although he was a cultivator, he was not like any of the cultivators Xue Yang had seen before. He carried no sword, nor anything that would imply he was a cultivator except for the Jiang Sect clothing. 

Doubts began stirring within his mind. What if this was all just a cruel trick, like the Chang’s?

Nonetheless, he was determined to see it through. Hope, perhaps. Foolish hope that may get him killed, or lose him another finger. “Really!?” He exclaimed, grinning at the strange man. 

The man smiled, a small thing. “Really,” He said. “You’ve got potential. At Lotus Pier, the potential can be trained to form a golden core, and you can become a cultivator, an immortal.” The man failed to mention how Xue Yang would be years behind his peers, having lost the prime time to cultivate. Xue Yang knew at least that much.  Not wanting to depress his spirits, maybe. He seemed like the type of kind soul to do that.

“A cultivator like you?” Xue Yang bounced on the balls of his feet, displaying an act of excitement. He was truly excited at the prospect of becoming a cultivator, yet he knew to be wary of promises.

The man’s smile shrunk to an almost miniscule size, but remained stubbornly on his face. “Yes, like me.” He whispered. Suddenly, he turned sharply, the rabbit still in his arms. He took a few steps before realising Xue Yang was not following, and turned back around. “Come along, then.” Xue Yang pursed his lips and followed. He observed their surroundings with a cautious gaze, noting that they actually were moving towards the direction of Lotus Pier, thankfully. He was not about to be murdered in some rundown shed in the middle of the forest.

“Why are you all wet?” Xue Yang asked. 

“I was hiding,” The man didn’t explain any further than that. Xue Yang’s suspicions rose; he remembered his thoughts from earlier. Perhaps he was not far off the mark in thinking that this man was a lunatic running from the law. 

“Why?” Xue Yang pushed.

“I got told to.” 

He grit his teeth. “Why?” 

The man was silent. For a moment, Xue Yang worried he was being too annoying, pushing too much. The man could easily just dump him there, say he was not up to the standards of the Jiang Sect, and be on his way. It would be the fastest abandonment of a child after just picking them up in human history, Xue Yang believed. But no, the man’s eyes glimmered with suppressed amusement, looking at Xue Yang as one might a fascinating toy. Xue Yang’s steps faltered at the warmth of the gaze, but quickly caught up to the long strides of the tall man. 

“Why don’t you have any shoes?”

“Because I left without them.” Xue Yang rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, but why?” 

“I was forced out.” 

“Why?” The man went silent once again. “What should I call you?” Xue Yang asked instead. 

“Whatever you’d like.” 

“You’re very unhelpful.” He told the man, who didn’t even try to deny the words. A pushover, then. It would be laughingly easy to trick him, just as he was doing now. “Why are you walking so fast?” He pointed out, noticing the quick steps of the man. While the man had bare feet, he showed no expression of pain or hurt, though he must be injured in some way or another if he had bandages under his robes. 

“I left A-Ling behind.” His voice was pained. 

“A-Ling?” 

“Jin Ling.”

“Jin Ling!?” Xue Yang repeated, surprised. “Jin Ling, heir to the Lanling Jin Sect?” The man nodded. A smirk crept up Xue Yang’s face, hidden from the man as he turned his face down to the ground. 

A cultivator, turning up near Lotus Pier, with the Jiang sect robe and the Jiang sect bell, who was caring for the Jin heir that was reportedly protected in the Sect Leader Jiang’s personal rooms; Xue Yang had really hit the jackpot. The cultivator was not some nobody in a big sect, the cultivator was someone , someone close enough to be trusted with the Jin Sect heir. Someone who must be close with the Sect Leader himself. 

Sure enough, as they got close to the banks of the lake, they could hear the cry of a child. The man was seemingly shook by the irritating scream of the toddler, enough so that he hurried his pace until Xue Yang almost couldn’t keep up. Somehow noticing this even in his mad dash, the man slowed his pace and took hold of Xue Yang’s hand, helping him keep up. Xue Yang stared at their joined hands in befuddlement, something dangerously warm rising up in his chest. He didn’t pull away.

The scene that they walked in on was not one that Xue Yang expected. There were two men, arguing. One of them had green, brown and yellow robes on. Qinghe Nie Sect, his mind supplied, remembering back to the passing disciples he had seen wandering around on the streets. He looked worried and shocked and panicky all at the same time, and held the crying child - Jin Ling - in his arms. There was no sword at his best, just a fan, waving maniacally in his hand. 

The other man was another member of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. Purple robes, a bell on his belt. He was the only one who had a sword. He looked angry, no, furious, screaming up a storm and looking as if he would combust on the spot, a volcano threatening to erupt. He was the one Xue Yang needed to look out for. Dangerous, angry, ready to lash out at anyone, just like the Changs. He looked paranoid enough to see through Xue Yang’s act. 

Xue Yang took refuge behind the man’s body, peeking around his waist. The man said nothing.

“Jiang Cheng,” Xue Yang’s cultivator said. It was as if those words cast a spell on the two men, freezing them to their spots, while the child continued to cry. Xue Yang’s brain rushed to connect the dots: Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin, said a couple of gossiping merchants in the town over, the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang Sect. The one who led the Siege against the demon Wei Wuxian, his past brother. 

“Wei W-” Jiang Cheng began, his tone obviously relieved, but paused upon setting eyes on Xue Yang. Wei, Wei, Wei . How many others had that surname? How many were close to the one and only Jiang Wanyin? Was it just a coincidence? Wei Wuxian was said to be dead by his own hand, his own army, but what if he wasn’t? Had Xue Yang gotten someone he hadn’t even dreamed of getting?

“Who’s that?” Jiang Cheng said bluntly. Xue Yang’s heckles rose, but he stamped his irritation down in favour of blinking innocently and wide-eyed at the mean, playing the part of a little angel. Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes at him, taking his every detail under scrutiny, looking as if he knew every game Xue Yang was playing. 

The man - Wei, Wei Wuxian? - did not answer. Instead, he strode up to the Qinghe Nie member, which Xue Yang assumed to be the Sect Heir, Nie Huaisang, considering he did not look like a man who could crush an army of a hundred single-handedly. Jin Ling, taken out of Nie Huaisang’s hold, quietened down. Xue Yang made sure to stay behind the man’s back, hidden from Jiang Cheng’s suspicious gaze. 

Finally, the man turned his attention away from the babe, looking to Jiang Cheng’s questioning gaze and then to Xue Yang. “I do not know.” The man said. “What is your name again?” Xue Yang was speechless for a moment. He didn’t quite know how to react. 

“Xue Yang,” He managed to mumble out through gritted teeth. Nevermind possibly being Wei Wuxian, this man was an idiot! How did this man survive until today? He had never even asked Xue Yang his name, nor where he came from, and trusted his words completely. He actually led him to his home , before the Sect Leader. Did he not care if Xue Yang was behind some murder plot and had ran away from it, or something equally ridiculous? How could he trust a random boy off the streets? 

The man, unaware of the myriad of insults running through Xue Yang’s mind, turned back to Jiang Cheng. “His name is Xue Yang,” - as if the Sect Leader couldn’t hear perfectly clear from where he was standing - “and he will be staying with us.” The man said it like it was a fact, a certainty, something that he wouldn’t take any arguments against. Xue Yang’s hope grew farther still. 

Jiang Cheng, however, looked less than happy. “ What .” The man stressed. “Wei-W-A-Ying, you cannot take strays off the streets.” And just like that, the hope slowly dies within him, like a flower blooming only to wilt away without any sunlight. Was the Sect Leader his doom? Xue Yang knew - poorly, but enough - that the Sect Leader decided everything. You had to have the Sect Leader’s permission. Without it, Xue Yang wouldn’t be able to stay. 

Xue Yang’s saviour glared at Jiang Cheng. He reached out and grabbed Xue Yang’s hand, as if declaring ‘ he’s staying ’, as stubborn as a mule. Jiang Cheng frowned and glared straight back. It seemed as if they were carved from the same rock, having the same stubbornness to match. Neither gave up. It was as if both him and Nie Hauisang were watching a ferocious battle, the audience of a fight, while Jin Ling snoozed peacefully in the man’s arms. 

The Nie Sect Heir, Nie Huaisang, looked completely out of his depth. His nervous glances shot between the two men, and he huddled in on himself, tense and afraid. Coward , Xue Yang mentally sneered. 

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng seethed. “He can stay with the disciples, but he better work hard in order to catch up. I will not accept any laziness. And you!” Jiang Cheng turned towards Xue Yang. “Forget this man ever existed!” He pointed to Xue Yang’s saviour. As if, Xue Yang mentally growled. This man was his, gifted to him by the gods. “Let's go, before you get sick A-Ying.” The man turned and stomped his way back to the grand building of Lotus Pier, probably the most richest building he will ever get to walk into. 

No, he decided. This was the beginning of his new life. He would become better than those Chang bastards. 

It was only then that Xue Yang’s mind caught up with Jiang Cheng’s words. A-Ying. Trying to cover up his name. Hiding the man away. His closeness to Jiang Cheng, to Nie Huaisang, to Jin Ling. The darkness of his cultivation.

This man was undoubtedly Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian, who had been among the top of his peers. Who had excellent control of cultivation. Who was brilliantly skilled in swordplay. Who was famous for all his nighthunts, for his battles against the Wens, for everything that he did. Who was the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation - the exact same cultivation Xue Yang had been hoping to learn. 

Besides, what would controlling the wind or a sword or whatever do against a whole army of the undead? 

Despite Jiang Cheng’s nasty words, Xue Yang stayed with Wei Wuxian, not going off to join the disciples. The Sect Leader Jiang was a fool if he believed Xue Yang would go off and forget about his best hope of becoming the next demonic cultivator and complain about lost knowledge. Hell, he was a fool if he believed any person, man or child, would be willing to leave behind such an enticing mystery and vanish it from their minds. 

And so, Xue Yang clung to the back of Wei Wuxian’s robes - as he was undoubtedly Wei Wuxian, the demonic cultivator, one of the greatest people that have ever lived - and followed him into what seemed to be the Sect Leader’s rooms. 

He was being watched, he knew, not by the Jiang Sect Leader, but by the Nie, the coward. While the eyes on him were unnerving and something he wasn’t quite used to, he played his part well. Wei Wuxian’s doting attention upon him easily distracted him from the watchful gaze as food after food was piled high in a bowl and given to him. What was before going to be Xue Yang’s dinner, the rabbit, now lounged peacefully on a pillow by the bed, Jiang Cheng having noticed it only after they entered the room. It was safe, for now. 

The same couldn’t be said for him. He was in unfamiliar territory and the presence of Wei Wuxian was the only thing keeping him safe. They didn’t trust him, and neither did he trust them. 

To Xue Yang’s joy, the Nie and the Jiang did not stay for long. They told Wei Wuxian - with hushed whispers and narrowed eyes at the boy - that they had a meeting with a Lan disciple, something about a letter. Xue Yang hardly cared. He was only happy when they were definitely gone and showed no signs of coming back for a while. Enough time to get friendly with Wei Wuxian, at least. 

“You’re Wei Wuxian,” Xue Yang exclaimed, the words bursting out in his excitement. He flushed, realising his mistake, but stomped it down in favour of staring at the man he had dreamed of meeting for months. The man merely nodded and patted his head, gesturing to the food still left. Xue Yang no longer cared for the food, even if it was the best food he had ever eaten in his entire life, when Wei Wuxian was right in front of him. 

“Why aren’t you dead?” It had been announced to the entire world, after all, that the scourge and demon was finally sent back to hell. 

“Eat your food,” Wei Wuxan ordered, like a chiding parent. Grumbling, and telling himself it was only to appeal to the man, he unceremoniously shoved a few bites into his mouth. 

Wei Wuxian wasn’t like he’d thought he’d be. The rumours of his handsomeness were correct, at least, yet little could be said about him being merciless and cruel. He had shown only gentleness, with both Xue Yang, a stranger, and Jin Ling, who was now happily munching on a few pieces of fruit, curiously looking at Xue Yang as if he were a new toy. 

Clearing his throat and saying with utmost certainty, he stated: “I want to be a demonic cultivator, and I want you to teach me.” 

“No.” He was shot down instantly. 

“Why not!?” Xue Yang barked, already feeling the anger rising up within him, hands clenched into fists and baring his teeth as if he were a rabid dog. No good. He was supposed to be an innocent, naive child, yet here he was in all his malicious form, like a wolf breaking free from its sheep's skin. It felt freeing, in a way, even if it marked the end of his bright cultivation future before it even properly began. 

Wei Wuxian didn’t seem surprised by his outbreak, or if he was, he didn’t show it. He looked irritatingly peaceful, in fact. Did he think Xue Yang was not capable? That he was stupid? 

“A-Yang,” Xue Yang flinched. No one had ever greeted him so familiarly. “Look at where I have ended up.” Wei Wuxan sounded bone-tired, years beyond his age. 

“Exactly. You’re famous . Infamous, maybe, but still. You can control a whole army and you’ve taken down the Wens and you battled the Four Sects! You’re the most powerful person in the entire world!” Xue Yang’s arms spread out to show how gigantic Wei Wuxian’s fame was, his eyes sparkling in his excitement, but Wei Wuxian only flatly stared at him, unimpressed. 

“A-Yang, you’ve got a clear, broad road ahead of you.” He pointed to Xue Yang’s chest, where a golden core may one day come to be. “There is no need to leave it for a narrow plank on murky waters.” 

Xue Yang pouted, but went silent. For now. He was not yet ready to admit defeat.

Jiang Cheng glared at the parchment in his hands, as if he could burn a hole through it by just looking at it. Nie Huaisang glanced over his shoulder, while the Gusu Lan messenger still bowed low before them. 

“Well,” Nie Huaisang said, maddeningly calm. “That’s blunt.” 

Panic the size of the whole of China suffocated him, for on the clean white paper marked the message:

Is Wei Wuxian alive?

Chapter Text

They stared at the frustrating piece of parchment until their vision went hazy, as if they expected it to suddenly catch fire. It would be a blessing if it did. For it to suddenly disappear, as if it had never been there in the first place. Maybe then Jiang Cheng would be able to ignore its menacing message and pretend he had never laid his eyes upon it. Then his heart would calm, his mind would clear, and he would be able to happily return to Wei Wuxian without panicking at the sight of him, wondering if the Lan clan was coming for him at that very moment. 

Lan XiChen’s message was definitely a cause for concern. Blunt, harsh and direct; the message seemed to aim straight for Jiang Cheng’s nerves. Just when he settled into a nice routine with Wei Wuxian, a stray arrow had to come poking round. Would this mark the end of their charade? 

Only after tears had appeared in his eyes after staring at the letter for so long did Jiang Cheng remember the messenger that came with it. He looked up at the plain disciple, but he didn’t seem like he read the message himself, calming Jiang Cheng’s fears. His posture was unguarded, his shoulders loose, his eyes flooding with curiosity, probably wondering what got Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang so spooked. He didn’t know. The less people that did, the better. 

“Thank you, I’ll need some time for the reply. A disciple will show you to your room for the time being, please help yourself to the service provided.” Jiang Cheng managed to croak out, elbowing Nie Huaisang to stop him from hovering over his shoulder like a vengeful ghost. The messenger nodded, bowed, and went on his way. 

As soon as he left the room, Jiang Cheng sharply turned to Nie Huaisang and glared. 

Nie Huaisang flinched and threw open his fan to cover his face, as if putting up a wall between them would help him hide from Jiang Cheng’s scrutiny. “Why are you looking at me like that!? I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

“Oh? So it’s just a coincidence that you turned up insisting that I go to the Lans, and then suddenly I get a message from the Sect Leader!” 

“Yes, it is a coincidence! I didn’t even know Wei Wuxian was alive before!” Nie Huaisang defended, his face flushing red. “You’re just being too paranoid!” 

He caught a  shadow from the corner of his eyes. He turned, half-expecting to see someone spying on them: the Gusu messenger, maybe, his curiosity all an act and wanting to see whether Wei Wuxian was alive, as the letter questioned. But no one was there. It was all his imagination. Perhaps Nie Huaisang was right, and he was too paranoid. Perhaps it wasn’t even a question of perhaps anymore. 

“Okay, whatever,” Nie Huaisang knew, by now, that was the best apology he was going to get. “But why would Ze Wu-Jun even send such a message, especially now? He suspected it before, but he never questioned it then.” Jiang Cheng said, turning his gaze down to the offending letter once again, as if it could solve this mystery. 

Nie Huaisang frowned in thought. “He sounds desperate. Brother XiChen is never this blunt, he must be quite stressed.” Worry etched onto his brow. With his words, Jiang Cheng remembered that even with his ongoing feud, Nie Huaisang was quite close to the Venerated Triad, and cared for them like family. He wondered if it was the same way as he cared for Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng stares at the letter emptily. He didn’t know what to do. Ignore it? That would lead him nowhere; Lan XiChen may just keep insisting until he has a real answer. Or worse, take the silence as confirmation that Wei Wuxian was alive and do something about it. No, he couldn’t do that. 

A peaceful ‘no’ wouldn’t settle it, either. That would be much too tame for him. He was still supposed to hate Wei Wuxian for the death of his brother-in-law, the death of his sister. He was supposed to react angrily to Wei Wuxian’s name, supposed to curse up a storm and threaten to kill those who even mutter it in his presence, supposed to be an angry ball of frustration and sorrow. 

The expectations of the people weighed heavily on his shoulders, and the worry that he was suspicious because he wasn’t living up to these impossible expectations even more so. Is that why Lan XiChen was suspicious of him harbouring Wei Wuxian? He was being too calm, too mellow, too quiet. He remembered the Jin cultivator’s words in the discussion, and his worry doubled. They were already looking at Yunmeng Jiang suspiciously. They were already looking for another enemy to point fingers at.

But what if Lan XiChen didn’t react harshly to Wei Wuxian’s survival? After all, he had even implied that he would help Jiang Cheng if need be, as if it was some petty crime that could be excused with a wave of a hand. Lan XiChen himself was a good, fair man, and did not make hasty decisions. In the few times he had seen their interactions, the man seemed to be amused by Wei Wuxian, and in no way bothered by him. 

As he looked up, he noticed Nie Huaisang staring at him expectantly. 

“What?” He barked gruffly. He knew what Nie Huaisang was thinking. Something about an alliance with the Lan clan, along with some bumbling and unnecessary dramatics to get to the point along the way. He rolled his eyes and stormed out the room. 

Upon entering his room, he wished he stayed away. The boy - Xue Yang, his mind supplied - was practically sitting in Wei Wuxian’s lap, his hair being combed out from its bird's nest state. He had a crafty look about him; foxy eyes to match his mischievous smirk. Jiang Cheng did not trust him one bit. Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian took a liking to him. It goes without saying that Jiang Cheng gave into Wei Wuxian’s every word. 

The boy knew Jiang Cheng didn’t trust him, and was terribly irritated at his presence. As if reading his thoughts, the boy glanced up at him in the mirror, and a slow smirk climbed up the boy’s face. His canines glinted in the light. The boy turned around on Wei Wuxian’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck like a babe clinging to its mother. 

“Xian-gege, I’m tired.” Xue Yang said, his voice a whine. Despite the childish tone of his voice, his eyes sparkled with cruelty, taunting. His eyes did not waver from Jiang Cheng’s. He knew Jiang Cheng would allow Wei Wuxian anything. He knew it, and he took advantage of it without a second thought. Shameless , Jiang Cheng’s mind supplied, mischievous . Almost as shameless and mischievous as Wei Wuxian. 

He also knew the truth. Did Wei Wuxian tell him? Or did he figure it out himself?

Before Wei Wuxian could speak, he budged in. “If you’re tired, it is better for you to retire to your room. We wouldn’t want to keep you up late. After all, children need their rest, especially those underdeveloped like yourself.” The smirk had melted off Xue Yang’s face. A wicked glee rose up in Jiang Cheng’s chest, unrestrained and free. A small part of him questioned whether he should be goading a child, but the brat had started it first and Jiang Cheng was not above such a thing. 

Xue Yang buried his face into Wei Wuxian’s neck, displaying a pitiful scene. “I want to sleep with Xian-gege.” The boy’s voice was muffled, which only added to the picture of a weak and scared child. 

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at such an obvious farce that Wei Wuxian was playing into, stroking the boy’s back in comfort. He glanced behind him to see what Nie Huiasang had to say about the little brat, but there was only air. Nie Huaisang had disappeared. Maybe he was afraid of Xue Yang’s devilish mischievousness, or even of Jiang Cheng’s own anger being directed at him again. He had likely returned to his own room. 

Shaking his head at Nie Huaisang’s cowardice act, he picked up Jin Ling who was uncomfortably squirming on a blanket on the floor, his eyes fighting to stay open. With a grimace, Jiang Cheng wiggled Jin Ling’s new favourite toy out of his mouth: Wei Wuxian’s Yunmeng Jiang bell. It couldn’t fit in Jin Ling’s mouth, it was comical to even watch, but Jin Ling was stubborn enough to try and try again. 

“Wei Wuxian, tell your stray to get lost.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian reprimanded, as if Jiang Cheng was the child clinging onto him without a shred of shame. He huffed and rolled his eyes, sniffing in disdain at Xue Yang’s answering grin. 

In the end, it was Xue Yang who had gotten his way. He slept in a ball, guarded, with Wei Wuxian curled around him, in Jiang Cheng’s bed no less. Jiang Cheng was forced to sit on the floor, leaning against the bed, where he could only sigh in irritation. He remained awake past midnight, when the room had gone into pure darkness, listening to Wei Wuxian’s steady breaths. Time ticked on. 

He wondered what Nie Huaisang was doing.

What Nie Huaisang was doing was spectacularly stupid, he knew. Jiang Cheng would probably butcher him for it. No, scratch that, he would definitely butcher him for it. No mercy would be shown. But he did not agree with Jiang Cheng’s state of compliance and unmovingness. He was certain Jiang Cheng would remain holed up in Lotus Pier hiding Wei Wuxian away his entire life if it were possible. 

Nie Huaisang was lazy by nature. He disliked doing things himself, and would rather relax inside all day, either reading trashy novels or painting whatever he liked. He hated fighting. He wanted a simple life, free from strife, yet knew it was impossible simply because he was born into Qinghe Nie. However, when it came down to the people he loved, he would happily take action. Wei Wuxian was included in that category. 

Wei Wuxian had been incredibly kind to him. Whether it was encouraging him with his painting or helping him with his work, Wei Wuxian had always been happy to help. He never expected Nie Huaisang to pick up his saber, never whispered behind secretive hands ‘that useless Nie heir’ , and never expected him to live up to impossible conditions. Wei Wuxian was always there for him, no matter what was going on in his own life.  Nie Huaisang wanted to repay that kindness. 

Even if that meant risking his life attempting to steer his saber through the sky. Because it was a hazardous job, no matter how many other people glided through the skies like swans with an ease beyond Nie Huaisang. He was more like a fawn learning to walk. In the sky. His saber shook and floundered, yet somehow his feet kept glued to the sword by sheer will power alone. 

The trip to the Cloud Recesses was normally a one and half day trip by a practised cultivator on a sword. It was needless to say Nie Huaisang wasn’t a practised cultivator. At times like this, Nie Huaisang perhaps could feel a tiny little smidge of regret for his lack of training, it being entirely his own fault. He couldn’t even practice inedia, nevermind properly ride a sword that long amount of time. He was thankful, at least, that Jiang Cheng was entirely unaware of his disappearance. 

The journey was by no means a pleasant one. He wished he took a carriage or lit a firework so someone of his sect could take him instead, but then his brother would find out where he was and drag him back to Qinghe. It would also take much, much longer, and Nie Huaisnag was living off borrowed time until Jiang Cheng figured out where he went. Not to mention the fact that Nie Mingjue was probably fuming that Nie Huaisang had run away to begin with in order to meet up with Jiang Cheng, and was probably searching the whole of China for him. 

He was going to be unbearable when Nie Huaisang got back. 

The sight of the Cloud Recesses was both a welcome and distasteful view. His saber sagged in relief, almost bringing him crashing into the ground. Nie Huaisang almost jumped with joy, even while traumatic memories of his time there resurfaced. His hand cramped at just the thought of the many times Lan Qiren had forced punishment upon him for either not doing good enough or cheating in the many tests. 

When he had graduated from Lan Qiren’s class with a good enough grade to make his brother happy, he had thought that would be the last time he would gaze upon the Cloud Recesses. Apparently not.

Ahh, Wei Wuxian , Nie Huaisang thought, look at the things I’m willing to do for you . 

At the gates, two disciples greeted him, quite obviously judging him for his lack of breath and general untidiness. He, without shame, begged them to get his Brother XiChen, as if a bunch of undead were chomping at his feet. One of them left to get him, but not without a glare of suspicion as if Nie Huaisang was the one that would bite at Lan XChen’s heels. 

His saviour arrived within a couple of minutes, looking both confused and alarmed at the quick summons. 

He helped in the raid against Wei Wuxian , his brain supplied, it would be so easy to spread a few rumours …

He forced the thoughts down to his subconscious, locking them into a tight corner. 

“Brother XiChen!” He practically leaped upon him as if he were a dog greeting him at the door, clinging to him tight. He ignored the disciples burning glares on him. He had built up an immunity to fearsome glares after having experienced both his brother’s and Jiang Cheng’s; these disciples didn’t hold a candle to them in comparison. “I’m so glad you’re here!” He sobbed, clutching at Lan XiChen’s white robes, creasing them in his tight grasp, his petty revenge somewhat satisfied. 

“Huaisang, what’s wrong?” His voice was soft, his brow furrowed in worry, genuine and caring and warm. How could Nie Huaisang stay mad at this? He let go off his robes, cursing himself for his fondness for kindness. 

Still, the stage was set, and the play must go on. “Brother XiChen, you must help me, please, please, please!” He leaned heavily into Lan XiChen’s side, taking his time to observe him at a closer range. There were dark bags under his eyes, only noticeable due to his snowy skin, and his robes hung loose on him, seemingly having lost some weight. “I don’t know what to do!” 

“Huaisang, don’t worry, Brother will fix it. Come, let me get you some tea to help calm you down.” Lan XiChen said, patting Nie Huaisang on the back gently, ushering him inside the Cloud Recesses. He compliantly followed, only stopping to send a look of disgust at the Wall of Discipline, much to Lan XiChen’s amusement. 

They sat down in a fairly secluded spot, surrounded by flowers and greenery. The tea was mostly bland with a hint of a floral taste, which was practically the height of flavour in the Cloud Recesses. Nie Huaisang sipped it up eagerly, if only to avoid the guilt that stirred when faced with Lan XiChen’s concerned gaze. He wanted to sink into the floor. Lan XiChen had always been so kind to him. 

“Huaisang, what happened?” There it was, that caring attitude. 

“Ah, me and Brother just had another fight. I ran away.” He said, casting his gaze down in shame. Lan XiChen’s shoulders slumped in relief. It wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened. 

“You had me worried.” The man admitted. “Was it about your training again? Huaisang, please understand that your brother is just concerned for you and he doesn’t mean any harm. I’ll tell him to stop being so harsh on you, if you’d like.” Nie Huaisang grinned, buzzing in his seat. Even if it was just an excuse, it was a win. Nie Mingjue always listened to Lan XiChen, at least for a few weeks until the cycle started again. 

“Yes please, Brother XiChen, thank you!” 

Lan XiChen smiled at him. “Of course, Huaisang. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t?” 

“Speaking of brothers,” Nie Huaisang slyly butted in, glancing at the man up over his teacup. “I heard Hanguang-Jun was ill?” The immediate frown that appeared on Lan XiChen’s face almost made Nie Huaisang regret his words, but it was much too late to take them back. He stared down at his tea, preferring not to look at Lan XiChen’s face again. It was a futile battle, though, as curiosity got the better of him. 

“Yes,” Lan XiChen answered after some hesitancy. “He doesn’t...He’s not-he’s not well.” The situation seemed familiar, deja vu washing over him. Where had he heard this before? Lan XiChen smiled at him, small but there, washing all his thoughts away. “He is recovering, however slowly, that’s all that matters.” The man seemed to doubt his own words, but Nie Huaisang wasn’t going to be the one to point it out. 

“Yes, definitely, I hope Hanguang-Jun recovers fast.” And just like that, the topic had ended. Nie Huaisang wanted to get more information than that to at least tell Wei Wuxian, yet it was not to be unless he surrendered some of his own knowledge. 

“I must admit, it is nice to see you friendly again. It has been so long since we’ve had a proper conversation.” Lan XiChen laughed, his words kind in a way only he could achieve. If it were anyone else, the words would sound mocking and spiteful. 

“Ah, well…” Embarrassment coloured his cheeks. He hid behind his fan. It should have kept the conversation going, to move away from his sudden friendliness he only displayed to get what he wanted. A sudden silence had befallen them, however. No, not sudden. Lan XiChen was simply sitting there, waiting. His eyes were full of suspicion. Lan XiChen may have been incredibly kind and honest, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Nie Huaisang wasn’t there to run away from his brother. 

Lan XiChen had always been very close to him as a result of him being his elder brother’s sworn brother. He had always been the one that Nie Huaisang first ran to when he fought with his brother, and had always accommodated him no matter how busy he was. He had, in some ways, made Nie Huaisang who he was today. He wouldn’t fall for some little manipulation. 

He glanced down into his empty cup in shame. “I was mad.” 

Lan XiChen’s laugh was like little chiming bells. “Well, yes, I can see that.” 

“I was mad at the Siege against Wei Wuxian. He had done nothing wrong.” The forbidden topic fell down onto them with the weight of the sky. If Lan Qiren were there, he’d be spitting blood. Anyone would be enraged at the controversial opinion, be fuming if Nie Huaisang had even suggested it. To say it so outright was a death sentence. The Siege had not yet been put behind in the past, along with all the rumours of Wei Wuxian. That would take years, if anything. 

The rumours of the Yiling Patriarch would haunt people for decades, but Nie Huaisang hoped they would remember the boy behind the mask, as well. He wished they would see the story for what it really was: a man protecting innocent people to his last breath. A hero, not the monster they portrayed him as. 

Lan XiChen, on his part, had barely reacted. A straightening of the shoulders perhaps, and narrowed eyes, but little else. 

“What of the lives he took? Jin Zixuan? Jiang Yanli? The Stygian Tiger Seal was also something that shouldn’t have even been considered. He was raising an army, Huaisang-”

“And who told you that? The Jins? Brother Guangyao? Brother XiChen, did you even see that so-called army? Was there even one in the first place?” Lan XiChen’s mouth snapped shut, blinking at the rebuttal. “The deaths were a mistake, I know, and I also know that if he could do it again, Wei Wuxian would have never harmed Jin Zixuan or Jiang Yanli. And everyone had accepted the Stygian Tiger Seal when it was used against the Wens, but was not alright with it when it was collecting dust with Wei Wuxian? Not only that, but he had destroyed it in the end. Surely that offers some compensation?”

“Huaisang-”

“Wei Wuxian was a good person. Others were just too blind to see it.”

There was another pause. Nie Huaisang gathered his breath, not knowing why he was so worked up in the first place. He had heard those arguments against Wei Wuxian a thousand times before, yet he didn’t think they’d ever come from Lan XiChen’s mouth. They were recycled and reused. They sounded like excuses. Something about it just made him angry. 

“You were right. All the information I have is from A-Yao.” Lan XiChen fiddled with his teacup. His nails tapped on the cup. One beat. Two. And, then, whispered like a secret confession: “WangJi is also mad about the Siege. He tells me he is not angry at me, yet…” 

Nie Huaisang didn’t respond. 

“Him and WangJi were quite close.” Lan XiChen said. 

“I know.” 

“I wish WangJi had never fallen in love with him.” 

Nie Huaisang swallowed down the lump in his throat, peering at Lan XiChen’s downcast eyes over his fan. His smile was gone now; he looked frighteningly identical to Lan WangJi. Near emotionless, empty. He did not suit it. 

“Wei Wuxian is alive.” 

Jiang Cheng was going to kill him. Jiang Cheng was going to kill him. Jiang Cheng was going to kill him! And that’s only if his brother didn’t get there first!

Lan XiChen’s eyes flashed up to his with lightning speed. His expression was still emotionless, like a calm pool without ripples. His hand did not reach for his sword. There was no offensiveness in his posture. Still, Nie Huaisang searched for any movement suggesting Lan XiChen being unhappy about the news. A sign of treachery, where he would run to take the news to others, leading yet another siege on the most obvious place where Wei Wuxian was. 

If he did, well, Nie Huaisang knew Lan XiChen valued Lan WangJi most. Lan WangJi was already in poor health, and even a weak person like Nie Huaisang could pose a threat. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t even hear of it, encased in Lotus Pier as he is. Backup, of course. Nie Huaisang wasn’t ruthless. 

“Why did you send that letter?” He asked, tilting his head as he observed the man before him. Lan XiChen didn’t seem unhappy to hear the news, yet he wasn’t particularly overjoyed either. He wasn’t as happy as someone actively searching if Wei Wuxian was alive should be upon hearing the news of his health. He wasn’t indifferent, but rather complacent. 

“I...do not know what I am doing.” A bashful smile appeared on Lan XiChen’s face, appearing out of place after having spent so long as cold as an ice statue. “WangJi isn’t taking his death lightly and I’m afraid it’s only getting more extreme.” 

“You suspected something at the end of the Siege. You confronted Jiang Cheng about it. Did you not tell him?” Nie Huaisang knew, of course, having predicted it. Lan XiChen’s responding shake of the head was only a solid confirmation to his suspicions. 

“I was not so certain myself. I had only seen Jiang Wanyin enter the crowd of corpses where Wei Wuxian was and had thought it strange of only him having made it out alone. It’s possible that Jiang Wanyin had killed him, but I didn’t believe it. I had seen him during the three months Wei Wuxian had gone missing, and I doubted he would give up on his brother who he had searched so ardently for before. Or perhaps it was blind hope, I don’t know. Either way, I didn’t want to give WangJi false promises.” 

“Now you know he is alive.” Nie Huaisang stated. Lan XiChen nodded. “Will you tell?” 

“This is where the problem lies, Huaisang.” Lan XiChen gave a stiff smile. “I believe A-Yao, who has been the investigator to Wei Wuxian’s case, and deems him guilty. Whereas both you and my brother believe Wei Wuxian to be innocent. I admit, I do not quite know what to do.”

Nie Huaisang opened his mouth to protest, yet Lan XiChen held up a hand, silencing him before he even began to speak. 

“I do know, though, that my brother loves Wei Wuxian, as much as I wish he didn’t. He had stood against the elders for him, even when Wei Wuxian had cast away his words, and had bore the punishment inflicted upon him as if it were a trophy. Even now, after his supposed death, he is still clinging onto Wei Wuxian. If I stood with A-Yao, I would be standing against my brother. I don’t want that.”

Lan XiChen glanced down at his teacup gain, sighing. He removed his hands from the table. 

“I would do anything for my brother.” The sentence was said with so much certainty that Nie Huaisang had to blink. He didn’t doubt that, if it came down to it, Lan XiChen would sacrifice his life for his brother’s without a second thought. “Even if that means supporting someone who I don’t approve of.” 

“So you’ll tell him?”

“I will.”