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Chapter Text

Nie MingJue opens his eyes.

There’s an unfamiliar ceiling above him, hard ground underneath his back, and his body feels wrong. The last thing he remembers is his little brother bleeding and shouting his name, and Jin GuangYao watching it all with fake tears on his face.

Rage fills his chest and that is familiar, at least.

Nie MingJue sits up. He’s in a nondescript room - blank walls, few items, windows covered with faded scrolls. It offers no explanation, and he knows he suffered a qi deviation and should be dead.

Obviously, he’s not. However, the hands he’s looking at are not his (too few calluses), plus there’s a generous quantity of blood on them. Now, that’s nothing Nie MingJue is not used to, which is also why he did initially miss the writings on the floor. They’ve been smudged - likely by his body - but it’s definitely some sort of ritual array. Nothing he’s ever seen before, plus blood’s not exactly a medium upstanding cultivators like to use.

Wei WuXian died, didn’t he?

Nie MingJue exhales and stands up. The body he finds himself in is tall - maybe not as tall as he used to be, but a decent height. Plus, while there’s some pudge around the stomach, there’s potential. Low cultivation level, which is annoying, but well. He can work with it.

Thus, before Nie MingJue begins his quest of figuring out what the fuck happened, he works out.

Luckily, Hui FeiYu did leave a letter. It’s not exactly coherent, but the date lets Nie MingJue know it’s been more than ten years since his death. Also, he’s been offered a body because Hui FeiYu had come to the conclusion he’s not cut out for life as a cultivator, had issues with corrupt money lenders, and a broken heart to top it all off.

Nie MingJue settles the requirements of his body’s predecessor. Then he spends a few weeks working as a rogue cultivator, helping locals settle minor issues. It’s not challenging work, and his old self would have laughed at it. But it’s a nice way of getting this body in shape, and it earns him some money.

He contemplates traveling to Qinghe. But while he’s never been one for hesitation, he can recognize it might be awkward. Could he reclaim his old life though ten years already passed? Would anyone even believe him? (How is his home, how is his brother?)

“The Lanling Jin sect used to watch over this area,” an elderly lady who pays Nie MingJue handsomely for disposing of an evil spirit that had taken a liking to her home. “But alas, even back under Jin GuangShan they never cared much for our town. Why should they, when other towns yield more crops and offer handsomer rewards?”

Nie MingJue nods in silence. It’s a quiet night, mild in a way mountainous Qinghe never is.

“Jin GuangYao cared even less, though who would expect the chief cultivator care for the trouble of the little people anyway?” she continues, staring into the night and misses Nie MingJue nearly shatter the teacup in abrupt rage.

Jin GuangYao. Chief cultivator?

That shameless dog, when Nie MingJue finds him he will -

“Ah, but I have heard people say good things about that young child of the late Jin ZiXuan. Supposedly he’s been going to the small towns himself, and it has been centuries since any Jin last did this.”

Jin ZiXuan’s son? He, yeah, he did have a son. Jin… Jin Ling. Nie MingJue isn’t certain he actually remembers him; to him all toddlers look the same. But he recalls the grievous incidents that took his parents’ lives. Jin ZiXuan, Jiang YanLi, Wei WuXian. They’re all dead. He’s not sentimental, but even if it’s just hearsay - if that child thrives after everything, it’s not that bad.

The lady catches his expression and sighs. “Heavens only know if he will ascend to become sect leader one day. I hear he has talent, yet the sect is in chaos these days… but I won’t bore you with rumors of things you must know more about, cultivator.”

As morning dawns Nie MingJue finds himself looking northwest. Wondering what happened while he was dead.

And he finds he’s somewhat curious.

A while later Nie MingJue learns that a discussion conference has been called. A group of traveling cultivators has stopped at the local inn for the night and their merry chatter drifts to him one table away.

“What do you think the discussion conference is for?”

“No idea. It’s been a while, though. I thought these happened regularly.”

They used to, Nie MingJue thinks. Yearly, even after the sunshot campaign. He wonders what happened to put them on hold.

“Eh, don’t we still lack a chief cultivator?” somebody else says. “It’s probably to address that.”

Several heads nod in agreement.

“What happened to the last one?” Nie MingJue asks, interrupting the conversation. He’s too tense to consider his rudeness; can’t hold himself back. The elderly lady had said Jin GuangYao had been chief cultivator, but she had spoken of him in the past. Has he, despite all his scheming, finally met his end?

One of the men clears his throat. “He, he… he suffered an accident, you see. In Yuping.”

“An accident?” Nie MingJue’s voice sharpens. There’s never been anything accidental happening around Jin GuangYao after all.

The man pales, and a woman in plain robes leans forward. “That’s the official version. Can’t let all the shit he’s done become public, you see. Wouldn’t reflect very well on some honorable other folks.” Her grin is toothy, and Nie MingJue likes it.

“So what did he do?” somebody else from her travel companions demands. “Everybody whispers he did terrible stuff, but they never say what exactly.”

The lady shrugs. “About everything terrible under the sun if hearsay is to be believed. Killed his child, his wife, his brother… So of course, he’d have to be taken down.”

“Wasn’t it that the other sects also had no idea until the end? I heard it was mostly a one-person effort,” says somebody at the back. Nie MingJue looks at them thoughtfully, but it’s not a face he knows.

The lady lifts her hands. “I wouldn’t know.”

Meanwhile, Nie MingJue wonders. Jin GuangYao had been so clever; had he truly failed in concealing his actions from the other sects at some point? Or had an unnamed individual managed to outsmart the slippery turncoat? Neither seems particularly realistic from what he remembers, yet it has been ten years.

“Didn’t Wei WuXian have a hand in it all anyway?” somebody else asks.

Nie MingJue nearly spits out his drink. “Wei WuXian?”

Somebody claps his back. “Man, where have you been? He’s been back for a while now.”

Nie MingJue glares at the man. Still. What the fuck. Wei WuXian, back? And they’re talking about him as if he’s not evil incarnate anymore. What on earth happened after he died?

“I was in seclusion,” he offers, because it’s the one credible explanation he can think of.

“It was quite the uproar. At first he tried to hide it, but then it came out and caused a scandal. And they did try for a second siege of the Burial Mound, but it went very differently - I think that was when the things about the Jin sect head came out, too.”

“How do you even know these things?”

“My brother’s wife was visiting Yiling at that time, so she heard.”

Not the most reliable source, Nie MingJue judges. But if there’s a new Wei WuXian impersonator, he must be competent.

Or, Wei WuXian, like him, was brought back. It’s not exactly as unthinkable as it should be. In any case, Nie MingJue feels it’s a situation he needs to take a closer look at.

Having decided to go to the discussion conference, he finds a minor sect which allows him to tag along as long as he causes them no trouble. Rather, after a few days he can tell they’d honestly like to recruit him as he continues dispatching any ghoul or yao or other creature they come across with ease.

They continue to travel northwest. As the weather grows cooler and the scenery familiar, Nie MingJue realizes that apparently the discussion conference will be held in Qinghe. Which, well. Whoever’s running the sect now must be at least vaguely competent.

It’s a thought he’s not yet (dared to) touch on. HuaiSang must have succeeded him as sect head, no matter how unsuited to position he’s always been. He’s not yet dared to ask his companions about his sect or his brother - a part of him hopes he’s doing well, yet Nie MingJue has always been a realist. If there’s been new campaigns, new bloodshed - HuaiSang was never suited to those.

Perhaps he’s found somebody to help him.

The last night before heading to the Nie sect’s compound, the little group stays in what used to be a tiny settlement three hours from Qinghe. Now it’s a thriving village, the haggard farmers of Nie MingJue’s memory replaced by rosy-cheeked men and women in fur-lined clothing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much cattle around, and all houses spot fresh paint, and even the menu at the local guesthouse offers a number of items that don’t even grow this far north.

Not bad, Nie MingJue thinks, really not bad.

“Heh, you can’t really afford the guesthouses in Qinghe anymore,” he overhears somebody complain.

“What did you expect? They’ve got guests from the imperial household stopping by with their entourage all the time. Of course that’s only for immortals to afford now.”

Imperial household? Well, that is a change. Before, they’d always laughed that the soft-skinned people from Chang’an would never dare to brave the harsh climate up here. And while Nie MingJue had never liked politics (and the imperial court is likely worse than the cultivators), he can’t deny the place is thriving.

“So, wanna make a bet?” one of his travel companions asks. “Who’s going to be next chief cultivator.”

“Heh, who do you think it will be?”

“My money’s on somebody from the Jin family. They’ve always been at the top.”

“Yeah, but they’re in disarray. Plus, seeing this - I think the current Nie sect leader might make it.”

Some people nod in agreement. Nie MingJue stiffens in surprise.

“Though why isn’t he chief cultivator, yet? The mantle was up for the taking the moment the old one died, no?”

“Why would it go to the Nie sect then?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” The speaker lowers their voice, a spark in their eyes. “Apparently the Nie sect leader was the one who exposed Jin GuangYao. Which is why nobody’s dared to take the mantle yet, too.”

Nie sect leader? Nie MingJue blinks. Who is running his sect nowadays?

“The headshaker?”

Well, that moniker sounds more like his brother.

“Well, it’s probably all hearsay for a reason. I doubt they’re going to elect somebody like him.”

“How about the Lan clan? I mean, they’re about the only sect who haven’t had their reputation tarnished.”

“ZeWu-Jun is still in seclusion, last I heard. I don’t know about Lan Qiren, though.”

“He’s certainly experienced. If he was a bit older, the Jiang sect head might have good chances.”

“But he’s quite temperamental.”

“Well, how about Wei WuXian?” It’s clearly meant as a joke, but Nie MingJue can see admiration coloring the eyes of some of the people around him.

“He’d be something. But, I don’t think he’s actually interested in the position.”

“Right,” somebody else chimes. “Wasn’t he a cut-sleeve now?”

“Is that a reason for disqualification?” Nie MingJue asks. He knows people have their misgivings, but he himself has never cared much for whom people bedded.

“No, but, eh, he’s … well, you probably missed it, but he’s got a, eh, cultivation partner. And now they’re, well, busy.” The exaggerated waggling of eyebrows isn’t exactly necessary for Nie MingJue to understand.

Somebody else, however, sits up. “Right. Lan WangJi, no?”

Ah.

Well.

That’s…

Not quite as much a surprise as it should be. He does remember Lan WangJi defending a delirious Wei WuXian with desperate fervor.

But really, what on earth have people been up to after he died?

Qinghe now looks wealthy enough to rival Lanling, Nie MingJue observes as they make their way to his old home. It makes coming back easier - the streets look different from what he recalls, the people dress differently. Oh, the city is doing exceptionally well, no doubt about it. But it isn’t home, and perhaps that will make leaving easier once his curiosity has been satisfied.

Yet when his sect’s stronghold comes into view, little has changed. Clinging to a mountain face, the facades have remained the same, only now they shine with fresh colors. A few new buildings dot the lower mountain side, and several large tents have been set up to handle the influx of visitors. Cultivators flying in on their swords, others arriving on food, by horse or wagon. There’s disciples and servants dressed in his sect’s colors everywhere.

And they look well.

An invisible weight rolls off his shoulders.

The official welcoming dinner provides Nie MingJue with a chance to subtly search for familiar faces. Seated in the sixth row, he’s well hidden from the attention. He spots a few distant aunts and cousins seated at the wall behind the seat kept empty for the Nie sect leader. His brother is not among them, and Nie MingJue forces himself not to think on it - so far, he has successfully quenched that worry.  

Jiang Cheng is easy to recognize. He hasn’t aged, but some of the grief has gone from his eyes and the new look suits him better. The face of the person clad in black and red next to him is unfamiliar, though the colors and playful grin give him away. Wei WuXian. If that’s an impersonator, he’s truly excellent.

Next to him - a bit closer than appropriate, to be quite honest, is Lan WangJi, expression tranquil as always. Nie MingJue wonders about his brother and what drove him into seclusion. He would have liked to see XiChen. Lan QiRen next to Lan WangJi keeps pronouncedly not glaring at the couple next to him.

Right, cultivation partners, Nie MingJue remembers, and can’t help a grin. They do look well, for all that Lan WangJi’s face seems made from stone, and Wei WuXian has been known to laugh while bleeding out. It wasn’t - Nie MingJue wasn’t close when he died - but that was not a nice death. Maybe because of his own family’s propensity to qi deviations, he’s never hated Wei WuXian as much as the others did for choosing demonic cultivation as his path.

He hopes whatever path Wei WuXian chose this time, it will at least lead to a better ending.

There are many new colors and faces he doesn’t recognize among the group. The familiar bright yellow (he knows he ought to call it gold, but eh) of Lanling Jin stands out, though he only dimly recalls the man heading the group. Judging from the prominent position, the teenager next to him must be Jin Ling.

The conversation quietens as the door at the far end of the hall opens. Nie MingJue can’t help but lift his head in curiosity. There’s not much ceremony accompanying the sect leader’s entrance, which he approves of.

The current Nie head is shorter than he expected. Rather slight, and the simple clothes he donned keep Nie MingJue from recognizing the familiar face a moment longer. But it’s HuaiSang, and Nie MingJue’s heart - which had not quivered when faced with Wen Ruohan - leaps.

His little brother. And he’s looking well.

He’s not grown, either in height or width, still slender to the point of appearing fragile. There’s a sabre strapped to his side, and he moves toward his seat with some confidence. Nie MingJue can’t help but stare as the other sect leaders bow their heads in greeting, though Wei WuXian - naturally - lifts his cup in a toast instead.

Just what on earth happened since he died?

“Honored sect leaders and dear guests, fellow cultivators from near and far, welcome.” The smile on HuaiSang’s face looks gentle, but Nie MingJue thinks is pasted on. Well, even if apparently he’s now a well-respected sect leader (how?) and hosting the discussion conference, he’s still HuaiSang. He hasn’t changed that much.

“Tonight, I have the pleasure of…” Nie MingJue stops hearing the words of a visibly practiced speech, awash in the familiar cadence. He’d not known he missed this, never realized how just his little brother’s voice calms his blood. How long has it been? Even before he died, they’d yelled at each other. And often, he’d been busy with sect affair, had not had time to listen to HuaiSang ramble over unimportant things.

It was wrong. Nie MingJue can admit this easily now. And looking at how Qinghe thrives, perhaps his younger brother’s ramblings had never been quite so unimportant as he’d deemed them.

Surreptitiously, he raises a hand to wipe at his eyes.

 tbc

Chapter Text

Nie MingJue leaves before the dinner concludes. He has finished his dish and little interest in the alcohol and snacks being served. A part of him wonders if he ought not leave Qinghe behind. The Nie sect is doing well, his little brother, too, and the world of cultivation seems at peace.

Still, his feet follow familiar paths, study the changes his home has undergone since he last lived here. Fresh paint, refined carvings, exquisite materials - yet at the heart, it all stayed the same. He’s not sure how he feels about it; he’s never been one for nostalgia. Eventually, he finds himself crossing the threshold to his former rooms.

It’s idle curiosity. As the current sect head, HuaiSang ought to have taken over these quarters. Instead, Nie MingJue finds them unchanged. The air is still, a faint whiff of incense lingering. Dust in the corners, yet not as much as Nie MingJue expected.

It’s not entirely unreasonable. HuaiSang’s always been sentimental. He’d be the type to turn his old rooms into a shrine. A bit impractical, though Nie MingJue feels he can’t blame him.

Quiet footsteps alert him he’s not alone anymore.

“Who are you?” HuaiSang demands, pale-faced and wide-eyed, just as Nie MingJue whirls around, reaching for the clunky saber at his side. “How did you get -”

Old instincts are hard to kill. Nie MingJue launches forward, brain telling him “don’t let him scream” and slams his little brother against the wall, one hand closing around his throat. He regrets it the moment HuaiSang flinches, tells himself he’ll pretend to be a robber. The truth’s too ridiculous.

“Don’t make a sound,” he hisses, trying for threatening, yet his grip softens. He’s never wanted to hurt his little brother. Even now his heart beats a mile a minute. “How’s this, a sect leader without his sword?” A dumb robber wouldn’t be able to tell the Nie sect uses sabers.

Still, the expression in HuaiSang’s face is not what it should be at all.

“Big brother?”

Nie MingJue’s saber clatters to the floor. He jerks back as if burned.

HuaiSang reaches up to massage his throat, tilts his head to look up at him. “It’s you, isn’t it?” His voice cracks on the last word.

Nie MingJue racks his mind for an explanation, but there are too many questions, too much confusion and how can he tell? He may have regained some of his former physicality, and certainly his new features are not completely different. But this is another body.

As if reading his mind, HuaiSang quietly says: “There’s an array on the door. Only me or my big brother can enter.”

Nie MingJue’s eyes widen. He’s never noticed the array, but now there’s no lying possible. He searches for something to say but finds his words have dried up.

HuaiSang shakes his head, hiding his face behind his hair for a moment. When he looks up again, there’s a self-deprecating smile on his lips. “Unless, of course, the array was altered and you’re here to kill me.”

“No,” Nie MingJue hears himself shout, loud and unbidden. “No!” He’s never wanted to see this kind of expression on. HuaiSang’s face; all he can do is cross the room and draw his little brother into a hug.

HuaiSang stiffens, and Nie MingJue tightens his grip, allows himself a moment where he squeezes his eyes shut and presses that slight body against his chest, relishes that he’s alive to feel what should have been lost. Then he loosens his hold, intends to step back and seek the words that continue to elude him, but HuaiSang’s arms wrap themselves around his neck and his little brother returns the embrace

“I can’t believe you’re here,” HuaiSang murmurs, voice hoarse. “I missed you so much. All these years, I wished you’d come back, and now…”

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” MingJue replies, bowing his head. “I never wanted to. I -“

“I know,” HuaiSang easily agrees. “I know, big brother.”

HuaiSang steps back with an exhale. He attempts to smooth the crumpled layers of his robes, which like his hair have been cast into disarray. “How … how long have you … how did you…?”

Nie MingJue reaches out and gently tugs a loose strand of hair behind HuaiSang’s ear. “A while,” he answers more honestly than he would have in the past. “I was … offered a body, if I understood correctly. There were a few things I had to take care of and then, well.” He tugs them to sit on the edge of his old bed, narrates his experiences, and watches different expressions play on HuaiSang’s face. For all that a decade had passed, HuaiSang looks barely older than he remembers, doe-eyed and slight.

“I barely recognized Qinghe,” Nie MingJue finishes warmly. “What you have done with this place - I’m proud.”

HuaiSang ducks his head, but he catches two spots of color appearing on his cheeks. “Ach, don’t mock me, big brother.”

Nie MingJue pats his brother’s knee. “I’m not,” he insists. “You’ve really …” Outdone yourself, but suddenly he feels the words are not a compliment. In truth, he had never expected HuaiSang to amount to much (for all he’d loved him).

“I’m proud,” he finishes awkwardly, yet no less honestly.

For a moment the silence lingers. Nie MingJue searches for something to say, though HuaiSang appears content not to speak.

“I’m sorry for attacking you earlier,” is what Nie MingJue eventually settles on. “I was…”

“Trying to hide your identity,” HuaiSang finishes with a small smile. “It’s fine. Wei WuXian did the same after his return. Only he pretended to be a lunatic cut-sleeve.”

Nie MingJue blinks. He isn’t certain if that reassures him. Especially since the cut-sleeve part has since then come out to be rather true.

HuaiSang dispels that notion with a wave of his hand. “Forget about it. I understand why you did it, and it doesn’t matter.”

Still, Nie MingJue thinks soberly, I put a blade to your throat. And an older memory rises behind his eyelids; HuaiSang limping toward him, bleeding from wounds inflicted by Nie MingJue’s own hands. “I’m sorry.”

His tone gives HuaiSang pause.

“When I died,” Nie MingJue sets out. “I hurt you.”

“That…” HuaiSang pauses. A shadow crosses his face. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“How was that not my fault?!” Nie MingJue exclaims. He grips his brother’s shoulders without meaning to. “Perhaps it was a qi deviation, but I was still the one with the blade, I was still the one who…!”

HuaiSang takes a shaky breath. Nie MingJue doesn’t recognize the expression on his face. “You were, but …”

“But?”

“Your Qi deviation wasn’t an accident!”

It’s like a blow to the chest. Nie MingJue staggers two steps backward before he catches himself and sits down again. “What?”

HuaiSang fiddles with his sleeves, stalling for a moment longer. But there’s nothing for it.

“Jin GuangYao.”

It … isn’t a surprise. After that first shock, Jin GuangYao’s involvement appears to be expected, even. And familiar tendrils of rage settle back in Nie MingJue’s chest; almost comforting.

“How?” he demands.

HuaiSang purses his lips. “In a variety of manners, I believe. But two stand out.”

Nie MingJue nods for him to go on.

“Do you recall all the pretty trinkets he used to bring me whenever he visited? He knew that you would hate them, and that you would be even more upset with the way they kept me distracted.”

Something cold runs down Nie MingJue’s back. He’d shared those troubles with his sworn brothers. He’d handed Jin GuangYao that knife himself.

His little brother gives him a mild smile that betrays a bone-deep exhaustion. It’s not an expression Nie MingJue thinks he’s ever seen HuaiSang sport before. “I’m sorry for it, big brother. I really am.”

Not in his worst nightmares had Nie MingJue ever blamed his little brother. With difficulty he swallows down the impact of this new revelation of Jin GuangYao’s machinations. “No,” he musters. “Really. Jin GuangYao was the one at fault.”

(But for all they were instruments, they also acted. Nie MingJue lost his temper. HuaiSang enjoyed the presents).

HuaiSang holds up two fingers. “The other thing … He was using brother XiChen.”

“XiChen?” Nie MingJue’s heart skips a beat.

HuaiSang swallows. His eyes downcast, he says: “The song of clarity brother XiChen taught him - Jin GuangYao mixed it with a dark song from another collection. One aimed to cause turmoil. It came from the Lan sect’s hidden collection, and he used it to accelerate your ...”

That bastard. The fury fills MingJue’s veins, white hot and raging. But he forces it down with a deep breath; unclenches his fists and consciously relaxes his body.

“He’s dead, though?”

HuaiSang blinks, surprised perhaps at the lack of an angry outburst. “He is.” He seems about to add something but closes his mouth.

Nie MingJue doesn’t ask. “Good.”

“Brother XiChen did not know his trust had been abused. And until the end Jin GuangYao… did try to shield him from the worst of it,” HuaiSang adds, as if to ensure none of Nie MingJue’s anger may direct itself at the man. “I believe it’s part of why he went into seclusion.”

It must have been a shock, to find out. Nie MingJue does not envy his sworn brother. After all the times he’d vouched for Jin GuangYao …

“But if he hears you are here, he may come out,” HuaiSang suggests with a small smile. He straightens up where he sits, and Nie MingJue can see the sect leader in his bearing now.

Nie MingJue clears his throat. “I… was not sure to announce my return.”

HuaiSang laughs. “Don’t worry about it. After Wei WuXian it won’t be that difficult to believe, though we probably ought to track that manuscript down before somebody revives Wen Chao or so. I’m sure he will come here if we inform him.”

Nie MingJue hesitates. He misses Lan Huan, he does. But there’s much pain in that past, even more on XiChen’s side as he just learned. He doesn’t want to push the man.

HuaiSang rises and clasps his brother’s shoulder. “I think brother XiChen will be happy to see you, brother.”

Which is how he finds himself dragged into a pavilion with not only Lan WangJi, but also Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng. The latter obviously has little desire to be present (and Nie MingJue isn’t sure why he’s there, either). The former two are standing close enough for their robes to brush together. Seeing them up close, Nie MingJue can't help but notice the changes. For all that Lan WangJi used to be a mature youth, his bearing now appears more confident. Less restrained. (Which makes sense, considering what Nie MingJue has learned about his relationship. With a pang he thinks about Lan XiChen, and how the past years have treated him less kindly).

There's grace to Jiang Cheng's posture that stems from power and confidence - he's not grown in height as far Nie MingJue recalls, but the man before him is certainly an established sect leader, and no longer the frantic youth struggling with a burden thrust at him. And for all that the younger, more delicate body Wei WuXian now inhabits ought to give anyone pause, the boyish grin and clever light in his eyes are easy to recognize.

“Thank you for coming,” HuaiSang greets them. “Despite the late hour.” It is, in fact, so late nearly all the guests have retired, and the moon hangs high in the sky. Nie MingJue feels guilty - it’s not as if this could not have waited until morning.

“No problem. You would not have called us if it wasn’t important,” Wei WuXian lightly points out, and tilts his head. Nie MingJue has already noticed the inquisitive glances cast his way. To them he’s a random stranger, after all.

“Well,” HuaiSang begins.

Jiang Cheng takes a long look at Nie MingJue. His eyes catch the saber (to be truthful, compared to his former sabre this one is a piece of scrap metal, but it was the best the province where Nie MingJue found himself could provide. He may have grown somewhat fond of it in the meantime). “Don’t tell me…”

“Everyone, this is my brother, Nie MingJue,” HuaiSang announces awkwardly. “He was … has been offered a body, too.”

Three pairs of eyes turn to him, and Nie MingJue doesn’t really know what to make of those facial expressions. He doesn’t know which expression to make, either.

“Nie MingJue?” Wei WuXian mutters.

“ChiFeng-Zun?” says Jiang Cheng.

“Hm.” Lan WangJi.

“It’s been a while,” Nie MingJue offers after a beat.

“And how did that happen?” Jiang Cheng inquires brusquely. He crosses his arms before his chest and glares at HuaiSang.

“I’m afraid I don’t know the exact circumstances,” HuaiSang hurriedly says, and Jiang Cheng’s lips pull down while Wei WuXian frowns at him. “But apparently the manual in young Master Mo’s possession was not destroyed as we believed. I suspect it got lost, perhaps was sold. Eventually it did end up with another cultivator.”

Nie MingJue blinks. He should have investigated the on-goings of the last decade in some more detail, he thinks. Because he has no idea who Master Mo is or why both Jiang Cheng and Wei WuXian look at HuaiSang and not at him.

“Was found?” Jiang Cheng echoes, face darkening. “Or put there?”

Something cold runs down Nie MingJue’s spine.

“I don’t know, I -” HuaiSang begins, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head abruptly.

“Don’t take us for fools,” he says heatedly. “Got lost? Found on accident? And they just happened to summon ChiFeng-Zun? Like Mo XuanYu just happened to summon Wei WuXian? Do you think he’d ever gotten the idea if not for somebody whispering -”

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei WuXian interrupts him sharply. He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Think about it. If that was the case, then why tell us like this? Calling out people connected to all three major sects for this announcement… Begging your pardon, ChiFeng-Zun,” he nods towards Nie MingJue, “but I’m certain there would have been less suspicious ways to go about it.”

“I have been very busy these last months,” HuaiSang agreed faintly. Nie MingJue understands it’s an admission, yet he cannot fathom what is implied. In fact, he finds himself left with many more unsettling questions.

HuaiSang’s words draw two nods, but Jiang Cheng remains stubborn. “You’ve had trusted helpers before.”

What on earth happened? Nie MingJue half wants to interrupt, but he also wants to know. Just how did his little brother of all people figure in Wei WuXian’s return? And what about his own? The array he’d glimpsed on the floor had looked foul, but he’d never thought it more than a strange if fortunate accident.

(How can it not have been?)

“What I had wanted to speak to you about,” HuaiSang starts, and the way he just ignores Jiang Cheng’s accusation takes Nie MingJue aback. Oh, his little brother always had a talent for ignoring things he didn’t want to hear. But this is different. “Lan WangJi, do you believe Lan XiChen would receive a message?”

At this, both Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng hold their peace. Lan WangJi contemplates the question for a moment, looks at Nie MingJue and then inclines his head. “I believe he would appreciate it.”

HuaiSang’s smile is warm yet dimmed. “Thank you. May I leave the contents to you? I will, of course, assist with any arrangements that may be required.”

“Sure,” Wei WuXian brightly replies on Lan WangJi’s behalf. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Yes, thank you,” HuaiSang replies graciously. “If you would excuse me?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, turns and walks away. Nie MingJue wants to move after him but finds his feet don’t move. Whether from shock or something else he does not know. He can’t remember this side of his little brother.

“Big brother?” HuaiSang asks, having halted a little distance away. His dark robes flutter in the wind outside the pavilion, and for a moment Nie MingJue feels as if he is looking at a stranger.

Things have been said that have drawn his curiosity. “Later.”

Belatedly he noticed Jiang Cheng and Wei WuXian staring at him. Likely they’d expected him to follow HuaiSang, but, Nie MingJue thinks, they can give him the answers he needs.

“Sect leader Jiang,” he says and crosses his arms. “May I ask what you were implying about my return? I am aware I died, and when I woke there was an array on the floor, yet I do not believe I ever saw one like it before.”

Wei WuXian laughs shakily and answers instead. “Yeah, that was one of my inventions.” Jiang Cheng nods along, leaning against a pillar with a sigh.

“Your invention?”

“Maybe it would be best to start the tale at the beginning,” Lan WangJi counsels.

tbc

Chapter Text

The tale that emerges is truly incredulous. Xue Yang had been alive a good long while. Jin GuangYao married his half-sister. And then killed her, his son, his father, and a good number of other people. Nie MingJue can’t help but stare at the three before him.

“During his later years, Jin GuangShan perhaps suspected, or simply disliked Jin GuangYao,” Wei WuXian narrates and there’s a rare, solemn expression on his face. Lan WangJi naturally picks up on it, and if he drifts closer, everyone feigns ignorance. “To avoid having Jin GuangYao succeed him, Jin GuangShan began to look into his illegitimate children. Or at least that is my theory. Mo XuanYu was one of them.”

Nie MingJue never heard of Mo XuanYu. But he recalls the name his brother mentioned earlier. “Young Master Mo?”

Wei WuXian gestures at himself. “The original owner of this body.”

“You mean, you’re now … Jin GuangShan’s son?” Jiang Cheng interrupts, brows furrowed.

Wei WuXian blinks. “Didn’t you recognize me? The juniors all did.”

Jiang Cheng waves it off. “As if I’d pay attention.”

Nie MingJue can understand. With Jin GuangShan’s habits, he’d likely fathered enough sons to build an entire sect from them. He’d not paid attention, either; had never thought much about Jin GuangYao’s background.

“Ach, you missed the juiciest gossip,” Wei WuXian declares laughing. Jiang Cheng gives him a flat look, and well. Nie MingJue thinks those can’t seem to help their closeness despite everything that happened. “Mo XuanYu got kicked out of carp tower because he’d been fooling around,” - he waggles his fingers and it’s easy to understand what his meaning is, “- and not only that, he’d even fooled around with Jin GuangYao.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw drops. Nie MingJue finds he is not quite so surprised. “Jin GuangYao must have lured him in to kick him out.” He’d seen the man kill his own people while being a spy. Fooling around with a young boy's heart could not have been hardship.

Wei WuXian’s expression sobers again. “Perhaps,” he says quietly. “I later discovered Jin GuangYao kept my writings - the ones he must have recovered from Burial Mound - in a secret room in Koi Tower. Mo XuanYu may have seen them there.”

“Poor sod,” Jiang Cheng comments, surprising them all. But, Nie MingJue finds he agrees. Mo XuanYu was nothing but a pawn who in the end was desperate enough to sacrifice his own body and soul.

“Earlier,” Nie MingJue says, “you said something to my brother regarding this young Master Mo. What was your meaning?”

Jiang Cheng straightens. “While I did not know Mo XuanYu, apparently he was not so talented. So how, or why, would he seek out and remember Wei WuXian’s writings? Why would he summon him of all people? There must have been somebody steering his actions.”

Nie MingJue frowns. It seems reasonable for that chain of action not have been coincidental. Yet why his little brother would have instigated that…

“The arm showing up in Mo village,” Lan WangJi says abruptly.

“What arm?” Nie MingJue inquires. The very abridged version of events so far had not included any arms.

Wei WuXian looks uncomfortable. “You see, ChiFeng-Zun… apparently Jin GuangYao had dismembered your corpse. Your brother … used it to lead us.” He lifts his shoulders. “Or at least, that’s what I believe. There’s no proof.”

Nie MingJue, honestly, has no idea how he feels about that. Jin GuangYao dismembering his corpse, well, that’s not out of the expected for that treacherous snake. But his little brother using parts of his corpse to set up some high-stakes goose hunt? Little witless HuaiSang?

(His mind summons the parting image just now. Perhaps not the HuaiSang of his memory. But this one…)

“And somehow this led to your rehabilitation and Jin GuangYao’s death?” he asks, because he’s a pragmatic man. If he doesn’t immediately know how he feels about something, it’s usually a waste of time to brood over it.

“As we found out about your … state, we started to investigate. We discovered Jin GuangYao’s actions, and then people showed up accusing him of other, past crimes, and he got a letter threatening him… and well. There was a second siege or Burial Mountain, but Jin GuangYao tried to use it to murder everyone and frame me. It didn’t work out, and so, somehow I was redeemed.” Wei WuXian looks as if he doesn’t quite understand how that happened himself.

Nie MingJue snorts. He knows how easily the mass of cultivators can be swayed; this outcome doesn’t much surprise him. “Everyone turned on Jin GuangYao?”

Wei WuXian nods. “Proof was provided - and apparently brother HuaiSang was the one to track down the witnesses - for his involvement in the death of Jin GuangShan, as well as his relation to Qin Su. Later, we … came across him at an address in Yuping. He was harried, had already taken Lan XiChen as … well, prisoner.”

Nie MingJue straightens. “What?”

“He claimed to be treating him well, planning to let us all go without harm,” Jiang Cheng continues with some disdain in his words. “Well, he’d shut off ZeWu-Jun’s cultivation, Jin Ling nearly died, and I still have a scar from it.”

Jin GuangYao is a fearsome bastard, that much Nie MingJue knows. He can’t begrudge Jiang Cheng his resentment.

“Who killed him?” he asks.

Wei WuXian hesitates. Jiang Cheng bellows a short laugh. “That’s just the thing. It was ZeWu-Jun’s sword in his chest. But your brother was the one to make ZeWu-Jun move.”

“What?”

He stares at the three men before him. They’ve grown up, yet Nie MingJue still sees shadows of the children they were in how they avoid his eyes.

“In the end, your fierce corpse broke his neck.” Lan WangJi meets his eyes as he states it.

Nie MingJue can only laugh. “So, it was a group effort?” he bursts out.

Two of the three before him cringe.

“ChiFeng-Zun, I believe your brother only had the best …” Wei WuXian begins, but Nie MingJue waves him off. He understands revenge; he himself had always desired Wen RuoHan’s head for his father’s life. Yet he’d never expected HuaiSang to … well, he doesn’t know what to make of his brother’s actions.

“Your brother was truly clever,” Jiang Cheng says. “Fooled us all, acting like he didn’t know anything.” He sounds bitter, but there’s some admiration behind it. Nie MingJue recalls - dimly - how Lotus Pier burned, and Jiang Cheng’s quest for revenge, which. Well. Had not failed, but he’d not been the one to take Wen RuoHan’s head. Or Wen Chao’s. And his and Wei WuXian’s relationship hadn’t survived, either.

“He brought many other crimes to light, too,” Lan WangJi points out. And that can’t be approval, Nie MingJue thinks. The Lan clan doesn’t promote revenge, much less accept such duplicity as everybody is saying his little brother utilized. Still, there’s a hard glow to Lan WangJi’s eyes, and Nie MingJue is certain that one hand he has hidden from view is possessively spread over Wei WuXian’s back.

Well. XiChen had always claimed WangJi was fiercely passionate.

As if to confirm his guess, Wei WuXian directs a besotted smile at Lan WangJi. Jiang Cheng notices it and rolls his eyes. Nie MingJue remembers how embittered he’d been - more must have happened to ease the air between them, but it is not his place to ask.

There’s enough he must think about, so he thanks them and takes his leave.

Nie MingJue wanders for a while. His thoughts spin in a manner he is not used to. Jin GuangYao using Lan XiChen’s teaching to kill him, cutting up his body; these are not surprising. HuaiSang using said body parts to inspire other to investigate, using Lan XiChen’s sword to deal the final blow to Jin GuangYao; these sit ill with Nie MingJue. HuaiSang may have lied before, but he’d never possessed the twisted drive and ill-fated ambition of Jin GuangYao.

Yet it explains the whispers. It explains why even without glorious deeds to his name; the present sect heads all bow to him.

Nie MingJue sighs. It will be dawn soon, though he doubts he will find sleep tonight. His feet take him toward the main complex. The sect leader’s office has not yet moved, and light yet shines from within. Though the servants guarding the doors looks at him strangely, he is allowed to knock and enter.

Well. They won’t be having another discussion tonight.

HuaiSang is asleep, head resting on the table. A pile of letters before him, a brush still in his hand.

Still dozing off over your work, Nie MingJue thinks with affection and silently lifts his brother into his arms. The body is lighter than he expected, yet that comes as no surprise: HuaiSang had never dealt well with stress; at the time of Nie MingJue’s own death he’d spent most mealtimes picking at food. It’s perhaps why he never grew to be as tall as the rest of their family.

He doesn’t yet know what to make of the things he learned, what to make of the things HuaiSang has done to avenge him, to take down Jin GuangYao. But as he carries him to the hidden bed, he can’t help but hold that little brother he’d wanted to protect forever a moment longer.

HuaiSang offers him to retake his old position as sect leader early next morning, Nie MingJue declines. During the conference he prefers to take his seat at the back of the room and observe the proceedings. In his youth and later days, he’d rarely had that opportunity, always having sat in the front row with many eyes watching his every action.

HuaiSang opens the discussion, any fatigue from last night well-hidden. “At this point of time, a new chief cultivator needs to be chosen.”

Immediately, people begin to mutter. The prominent sect leaders wisely remain silent for a moment longer.

“Sect leader Nie,” somebody - Nie MingJue does not recognize him - calls out. “What is your suggestion?”

HuaiSang’s hand twitches, but there’s no fan there to hide behind. The room’s attention is on him. “From my understanding of the position’s requirements I believe sect leader Jiang to be suited, but I really don’t know.”

Jiang Cheng stares, momentarily taken aback. “What?”

After last night’s confrontation, Nie MingJue is surprised, too.

“Forgive me, sect leader Nie, yet for all his valor I believe sect leader Jiang is too young. The position requires the wisdom of age, you see, and I -” somebody Nie MingJue does not recognize starts to protest.

“Hey, sect leader Jiang led his sect during the SunShot campaign. Where were you then?” Jin Ling asks sharply. He earns himself a smack from Jiang Cheng for his rudeness but doesn’t look intimidated at all. Nie MingJue thinks he likes the brat.

The man stammers. Jiang Cheng takes the chance to speak himself. “I do thank you for the trust, sect leader Nie. However, I would consider Lan QiRen perhaps more suitable for the position.”

All eyes turn to the current acting sect leader of the Lan family. The man wears his age well, yet Nie MingJue knows he has not been free from folly himself.

“How about yourself, sect leader Nie? As the one to expose Jin GuangYao’s crimes, the post would fall to you.” Lan QiRen points out, stroking his beard, and an expectant silence falls over the room. Nie MingJue can tell it sits heavily on his brother’s shoulders.

“I don’t…” he trails off, fingers vanishing to hide in the long sleeves of his robe. “I will not take the position.”

A whisper runs through the hall. Nie MingJue catches pieces of “...scheming…”, “too busy with imperial matters…”, and “too much scrutiny”. He has to bite his own tongue not to say a word.

“Truly?” somebody asks, loudly. “Won’t you reconsider, sect leader Nie?” And well. This person sounds as if they’re hoping for HuaiSang to accept the position. For a moment, Nie MingJue entertains the image. His little brother, useless, frail HuaiSang, chief cultivator.

(Yet the shadow of Jin GuangYao lies over it).

“No,” HuaiSang’s answer shatters the image.

“Sect leader Nie,” somebody else - Jin clan, judging by their clothes, speaks up. “Then would you tell us why you believe sect leader Jiang may be a good choice?”

HuaiSang takes a deep breath. “Sect leader Jiang has led his sect through many hardships in admirable manner,” he says, soft yet steely. “He has proven himself in the face of adversity and personal grief; he has taken all responsibilities that fell onto him regardless of their weight and done more than well. He is both upright in character and skilled in cultivation and in battle. I believe there are few more suited to the office than him.”

Jiang Cheng (and not only him) looks as if he’s about to cry. Or scream. It’s not a good look, but most people are too distracted by the surprisingly smooth plea for him. Nie MingJue isn’t sure what to think of it; certainly, HuaiSang isn’t wrong. But hearing his brother speak so smoothly and elegantly. Well. It brings back memories.

(“And this is why I never wanted the position,” HuaiSang will say much, much later when the topic arises again. “I’ve always tried not to become him, but in the end… I’m not sure I succeeded.”

Nie MingJue, at this point, can only clasp his brother’s shoulder and tell him “and that is why you’ll never be like him.”)

“However, if it is the joint will to elect honorable Lan QiRen or any other man or woman as chief cultivator, I certainly will not protest.” HuaiSang hurriedly adds, ducking his head.

The discussion continues, but Nie MingJue does not find out how. A servant comes to him and quietly informs him that Lan XiChen has arrived.

 tbc

Chapter Text

Seeing Lan XiChen is a shock.

The older Lan sibling has lost none of his grace or warmth, but there’s a melancholy to him and a grief that stops Nie MingJue cold and takes the words from his lips. Yet Lan XiChen has already heard the door open and turns around.

It’s obviously an unfamiliar face. But Lan WangJi must have told him.

“MingJue?”

He unfreezes. “Yes.”

Lan XiChen blinks. Nie MingJue doesn’t think he’s ever seen him cry, but right now he’s fighting tears, and of all people, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to see the other so fragile. Warm smiles have always suited him best.

“It’s you,” Lan XiChen mutters, as if spellbound. “It’s truly you.”

“Well, not quite,” Nie MingJue replies gruffly. “The body’s a bit different.”

Lan XiChen huffs out a shaky laugh.

“I mean, it’s not bad. Took a bit of work to get it in shape and the cultivation level’s not that high, but I can work it,” he continues just to see those eyes brighten. “And well, it’s not at a risk for a Qi deviation, so that’s quite an advantage.”

Lan XiChen flinches and Nie MingJue wants to slap himself. He’s never been good at making light of things, after all.

“I’m sorry,” Lan XiChen begins, voice breaking again. He bows his head, hides his face, but Nie MingJue can see his hands clench on his lap. “I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea, I thought I was helping and yet I -”

Nie MingJue crosses the distance and grasps Lan XiChen’s shoulders. The man stops talking, but there’s brittleness to him that oughtn’t be there. Seclusion and inedia are one thing, Nie MingJue knows. This is simple weight loss.

“Lan Huan, stop it,” he says and pulls the man over to the seats under the window. “It’s fine.” Which isn’t quite what it is, except now. “I never blamed you.” Or he wouldn’t have, had he been alive to blame anyone.

Lan XiChen shudders. He looks up, looking strangely lost and young and instead of sitting across from him, Nie MingJue sits first and tugs Lan XiChen down next to him. It’s cramped - the seat hadn’t been made with two adults in mind -, but exactly right.

“MingJue, I, you must understand, A-Yao, he…” Lan XiChen bites his lip.

“He was a very skilled liar,” Nie MingJue says calmer than he ever expected to feel at the man’s name. In face of the pain on Lan XiChen’s face, his own rage feels insignificant. “Or perhaps not a liar, he was good with twisting words.”

“No, he did lie,” Lan XiChen protests, slumping against Nie MingJue. “He lied to us all, and then… So many he killed, MingJue, and I kept defending him. Even when WangJi came to me, with proof, I hesitated. And it almost brought about disaster for so many more.” He looks haunted.

It was bound to happen, yet Nie MingJue can’t help but wish it never had. Lan XiChen’s compassionate heart would always suffer more under the burden of Jin GuangYao’s machinations than the hearts of those with less aspirations for purity.

“I don’t think he ever truly lied to you, Lan Huan,” Nie MingJue says, and carefully wraps an arm around the other man. “If there was one human being he truly appreciated, it was you.” And for all that was wrong about Jin GuangYao, he was right about that. Amongst all of them, Nie MingJue thinks, Lan XiChen perhaps has always been the brightest soul.

Brittle laughter is his answer. “Doesn’t that make it so much worse?” Lan XiChen asks. “It was my sword that stabbed him in the end.”

“Because my brother made you. And my corpse dealt the final blow,” Nie MingJue points out drily. There are sentences he hadn’t ever expected to speak. But well. It does give Lan XiChen pause.

“Did, did HuaiSang tell you?”

“No.” And it makes unease coil in his chest. “I heard from others.”

Lan XiChen shakes his head. “Little HuaiSang. I can’t believe… I wish he’d told me. He must have felt so alone… But then, if he’d told me… You told me so often, and I never listened to your suspicions, and if HuaiSang had told me and anything had happened to him I would have never forgiven myself.”

You’re already not forgiving yourself, Nie MingJue wants to say, but even he knows some tact. Still, he wishes he had some words at least.

“And what A-Yao did to you. I still can’t fathom it. How could he, how could A-Yao do all that? After everything, after he’d always been so kind and -”

“Lan Huan,” Nie MingJue interrupts him. Perhaps some words will do, even if they’re not the right ones. The only thing he is certain about right now is that seclusion certainly has not helped Lan XiChen deal with his grief. “He fooled us all. Don’t … just don’t let it destroy you.” Not even Jin GuangYao would have wanted that.

“Look, I have no clue how HuaiSang even figured anything out, but as far as I heard nobody else did. I don’t think you’ve got anything to blame yourself for.”

“But if I’d listened to you back then…”

“Who knows what might have happened,” Nie MingJue shrugs. He’d not been a beacon of rationality himself, back then. “I don’t think he started out evil, for what it’s worth.”

There’s a short, sharp exhales. “No, I don’t think he did,” Lan XiChen agrees.

The memories have faded considerably. But now Nie MingJue can recall those early days. Back when Meng Yao was his first lieutenant and always made sure to help any lost civilians, care for the wounded and be where he was needed. No, he did not start out evil. Perhaps it was his time as a spy. Perhaps something else.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

“This is what drove you into seclusion?” Nie MingJue asks after a while. Lan XiChen rests against him, warm and familiar.

“Hm,” he replies, sounding momentarily a lot like his younger brother. “In part. I… the role I played in everything, that is something I still cannot fathom. Your death, MingJue, has-”

“Well, I’m alive again, so please forget about it,” Nie MingJue interrupts swiftly.

Lan XiChen blinks. Of course, the matter won’t be laid to rest so easily, yet he exhales softly. “And how I’ve been so blind to everything. Jin GuangYao, HuaiSang. I can only wonder what else I missed.”

“I doubt you missed anything,” Nie MingJue replies. Lan XiChen has always been perceptive. “It’s only those two specifically took care to fool you. You never had a chance.” And isn’t that the tragedy of it all? “Look, I’ll give HuaiSang a good smack on your behalf. Has he at least apologized to you?”

Lan XiChen looks up, wide-eyed and the usually so proper hair in disarray. “No, MingJue, you... I went into seclusion immediately after it was all over. If HuaiSang came to speak with me, I do not know.”

“Hmph, he’ll apologize.”

“It’s fine.”

“He made you stab Jin GuangYao. Is that truly fine?”

Lan XiChen turns his face away, silent.

Nie MingJue hasn’t missed his earlier words, sees how he tries to make sense of everything by blaming himself. But those pieces won’t fit together, and Lan XiChen must understand it, and he may be too kind to admit it even to himself, but Nie MingJue knows blame must be laid at the feet of those responsible. Jin GuangYao. HuaiSang.

(He will have to address his own heart on the issue, too).

“Lan Huan, would you tell me what happened that evening?” he asks and allows his other hand to settle on Lan XiChen’s knee. “I have heard from Jiang Cheng, Wei WuXian, and your brother. My brother has not talked about it. Will you tell me what you saw?”

The other man takes a deep breath and then begins to talk.

It’s the Nightless City all over again. Jin GuangYao claiming he had no choice, and the truth will always lie in the eye of the beholder. Being dead for a decade does make this easier to accept, Nie MingJue must admit.

“... and HuaiSang cried ‘behind you’ and so I stuck,” Lan XiChen says, voice strangely flat as he reaches that fatal moment. “It was A-Yao standing there, and I think he was as surprised as I was. I don’t know if he’d figured it out before, or only realized it at that moment, but he looked at HuaiSang, and accused him of having been behind it all. And, you know, if he hadn’t said that, I’m not sure I’d ever have realized it.”

Chances are, without Jin GuangYao pointing his finger at the very end nobody might have realized. Wei WuXian may have had an inkling - Nie MingJue remembers him mentioning having suspected a third party steering the events - but he’d admitted to being just as dumbfounded as everyone else.

Nie MingJue tightens his hold on the other man without meaning to.

“Later I did ask HuaiSang if A-Yao had really moved…” Lan XiChen swallows hard. “He never gave me a straight answer.”

“I’m going to smack that brat twice,” Nie MingJue promises. Though he does wonder; his brother has never been callous. There is another’s shadow overlapping him, and it makes Nie MingJue’s heart sink.

“I was angry, too, then,” Lan XiChen says. He’s too gentle to be angry, Nie MingJue thinks. “But then I thought about. I failed him first, didn’t I? It was my misjudgment that lead to your death. HuaiSang must have known that for years.”

“That’s not your fau-”

“And we may be doing him an injustice. Perhaps A-Yao had truly been about to strike me, or it had appeared so to HuaiSang.” The first, Nie MingJue doubts. The latter he cannot judge. Like with Wei WuXian’s return; his own return. Now Jiang Cheng’s skepticism seems much more reasonable, and Nie MingJue can’t help but wonder himself.

“However, it happened, from HuaiSang’s place, I believe I understand. That night had seen so many changes of hand already, had A-Yao escaped things may have yet again changed completely. So, for all it pains me, I don’t blame him.”

“You’re too nice,” Nie MingJue mutters. In truth, he does not know what he would have done. Jin GuangYao’s head he had wanted to a long time. Yet he would have cut him down with his own sabre for the world to see.

Lan XiChen remains silent, an unhappy twist to his lips as if he was forcing himself not reign in his emotions. He’s only ever allowed himself to be calm, refined, and gentle, and Nie MingJue silently curses everyone involved in forcing that role upon him – Lan XiChen is not that piece of Jade everyone likens him to, he’s a breathing human and there’s only so much stress human hearts can take.

“Truly,” he insists, despite words never having been his forte. “It’s alright for you to be angry. I know Jin GuangYao was … dear to you. And what HuaiSang did was cruel. You have more of a right to be angry than anybody else.”

Lan XiChen musters a shaky smile. “I’m not sure. I was so blind, after all. You know, I have been thinking over it for a long time now, wondering why all those years I never noticed, wondering why HuaiSang did what he did. And one question that gave me pause was just how did HuaiSang know about the body offering ritual?”

Something cold starts forming in Nie MingJue’s chest.

“He was never a diligent student, and even if he was classmates and got along quite well with Wei WuXian, that particular manuscript had not been written until much, much later. I don’t think they even met at that time.” Lan XiChen shakes his head softly and doesn’t continue.

Nie MingJue understands anyway, and a noiseless thunderclap takes his breath away. A young man, freshly bereaved, no close family left in this world, burdened with a heavy responsibility he never wanted. Everyone he’s known has always called him useless, unsuited if they were kind about it. And who knows how or why, but he finds a text on a body offering ritual.

Nie MingJue will thank all the stars in the sky for whatever stayed his brother’s hand. Waking up in a foreign body was bewildering. Waking up in HuaiSang’s body and knowing his little brother had killed himself -

“You see, I failed him first,” Lan XiChen points out. “I had promised to look after him and look how that turned out.”

Nie MingJue sucks in a shuddering breath. He shoves away the instinct demanding to go check on his brother right now. “Don’t apologize for things that did not happen,” he manages. That barely averted disaster rests heavy on his shoulders.

Lan XiChen sighs and hangs his head. He looks exhausted; the trip from Gusu to Qinghe is not short. “I had gone into seclusion hoping to find clarity. But at this point I am not certain I will ever find it.”

Nie MingJue pats his shoulder in sympathy. “If anyone can ever find it,” he replies, “it will be you.”

Because he himself has no idea what to make of the things he heard.

Footsteps approaching outside disturb them. A sharp knock on the door, followed by a questioning “brother?” announces the arrival of Lan WangJi.

Nie MingJue rises, Lan XiChen tugs his hair and clothes into a semblance of order, gives Nie MingJue a smile. It’s worn, but the warmth in it remains. “I am glad to see you again, MingJue.”

Nie MingJue inclines his head. “Yeah. We will talk again later. I believe your brother is waiting.”

No person watching Lan WangJi could have told he was anxious. His expression is solemn, his steps are even, and his voice clear and strong as he greets his brother. Yet, Nie MingJue sees XiChen reaching out to ruffle his brother’s hair with affection as he closes the door.

They’ll need time, he thinks.

Then he looks up and finds himself looking at Wei WuXian. The other man flounders, before he bows in a respectful greeting. “ChiFeng-Zun.”

“Wei WuXian.”

And isn’t this a strange world? Where they meet again, both having died and being summoned back into new bodies.

“I believe those two will need a moment,” Nie MingJue says, nodding toward the closed door.

Understanding passes over Wei WuXian’s face.

“How is the conference going?”

Wei WuXian sighs. “They’re in intermission right now. But it’s not really going anywhere, I think.”

“How so?” Nie MingJue directs his steps toward a smaller courtyard. He notices Wei WuXian follows him without hesitation.

Wei WuXian looks at him before answering. There’s a clever light to his eyes, though he’s a far cry from the arrogant youth he used to be. “Well, apparently there’s some people who really don’t want Jiang Cheng to be chief cultivator, and your brother keeps refusing the post.”

“Lan QiRen?”

“I think too many people have terrible memories of the rules at Gusu. There’s four-thousand now, by the way.” It’s more that too many of the other sect leaders likely fear Lan QiRen’s righteousness. Nie MingJue himself isn’t certain if the man is a good fit for the position. Certainly, the chief cultivator needs to uphold rules, but also needs to be capable of politics.

Wei WuXian must know the same. But he’s always chosen to not say everything, even if in the end it was to his own demerit.

“Who would you choose?” Nie MingJue finds himself asking, genuinely curious.

Wei WuXian looks surprised at the question. “I? I don’t really … Ah, well.” He laughs and directs a boyish grin at Nie MingJue. “It really depends, doesn’t it? If I wanted to re-establish order in the cultivation world, I would go with Jiang Cheng. He’s brash and hot-headed and holds grudges and… eh.” He trails off, looking sheepish. “He’ll do a good job at upholding order, anyway.”

Nie MingJue raises an eyebrow in silence. Oh, he understands it very well, he’s heard the affection under the complaints. But he also remembers the cold bitterness with which Jiang Cheng vowed revenge; that he had been the one there when Wei WuXian had died to the point some had said he’d been the one to deal the final blow.

Have those hurts truly healed?

A shadow passes over Wei WuXian’s face. He seems to have forgiven his former brother, but that pain still lingers.

“Anyway,” Wei WuXian picks up his train of thought and continues. “If I wanted to change the old ways or confront a powerful enemy, I would chose HuaiSang. I mean no disrespect.”

Nie MingJue waves it away. “And what would you chose in this situation?”

He finds he is truly curious. When he had met Wei WuXian, the young man had sported a chilling flat look to his eyes, and a darkness that had clung to him. Nie MingJue had seen him command an army of corpses, had seen him wield dark energy as if he was a creature of darkness himself. But he’d also heard from HuaiSang about the classmate with unconventional solutions, who’d always speak up or step in when something not right happened.

(Nie MingJue had later found out the truth about what had been done to those last remaining members of the Wen sect. He found Wei WuXian’s anger not entirely unfounded).

Now, there’s no darkness clinging to Wei WuXian as he purses his lips and gazes at the trees lining the inner courtyard. “I think I’d abolish the system.”

“Heh.” Nie MingJue laughs. After Wen RuoHan and Jin GuangYao that is perhaps the best idea he’s heard in a long time.

“But it’s really not my place to say anything. I don’t belong to any sect, after all,” Wei WuXian adds, and Nie MingJue thinks that yes, back then the young man had been arrogant, but he’d never truly boasted his accomplishments.

He also thinks Lan WangJi might dispute the statement of Wei WuXian not belonging to any sect, but that’s something Wei WuXian ought to find out himself.

tbc

Chapter Text

Despite making an odd pair, the two of them eventually head into town together. The conference continues, but neither has an interest in politics, and the Lan brothers will need time to themselves. So when Wei WuXian says he’s looking to get a drink, Nie MingJue joins him with a shrug.

Sure, he can’t help Wei WuXian with his quest to find the best local alcohol, but that is not necessary when the other’s eyes light up at spotting the words “Emperor's Smile’ on the menu. Nie MingJue must admit the stuff isn’t bad. Or perhaps it is that this body has a more refined sense of taste.

“Senior Wei, senior Wei!” a young voice calls out. Nie MingJue spots two white-clad youngsters making their way through the crowded tavern. Their Lan sect robes stick out.

“JingYi, SiZhui,” Wei WuXian greets them. “What are you doing here?”

One of the boys shrugs. “It was boring.”

“JingYi,” the other - SiZhui then - reprimands. To Wei WuXian he says: “Lan QiRen said we could go into town for a bit.”

“Eh, it is boring,” Wei WuXian agrees with JingYi’s assessment. “Why do you think I’ve come here?”

“You?” JingYi replies. “Aren’t you always headed for trouble? But yes, we were thinking if we couldn’t do some night hunting in the area. The missy’s going to throw a fit when he hears that!”

“JingYi!”

“What? Jin Ling was the one being all important, and now he’s got to sit through all that boring talk. We should do something exciting instead!”

Nie MingJue can’t help but watch it all with amusement. Lan JingYi is likely the least Lan-like person he has met in his lifetime (or, more correctly, two lifetimes), though judging by his head ribbon, he is a direct descendant. 

“Well, I won’t stop you, but if you want to go night hunting, you should probably really check with the Nie sect if they’re alright with it. This is their area, after all,” Wei WuXian offers, and his eyes flicker to Nie MingJue for the shortest of moments.

“Ah, right,” JingYi exclaims. Then. “You’re not here to night hunt, senior Wei?”

Wei WuXian takes a large sip of his drink and shakes his head. “No. I’m here to drink.”

“Boring,” Lan JingYi comments. Then, he laments dramatically. “The Nie people will all be busy until tomorrow. There’s nothing for it.”

“Actually,” Nie MingJue finds himself saying. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he’s simply too weak against disappointment on young faces. “There’s usually some prey in the Tieshan mountains. The Nie sect doesn’t really mind people hunting there; it’s uninhabited anyway.”

Three people blink at him.

Wei WuXian knows who he is. Lan SiZhui appears a little more skeptic. “And this is truly fine with the sect, senior?”

“Hui,” Nie MingJue answers. He’s fairly certain he prefers to remain anonymous a while longer. “Hui FeiYu. I … grew up in this area, I’m familiar with the sect and their habits.”

Wei WuXian doesn’t snort but it’s a close thing.

Lan SiZhui doesn’t look fully convinced. Lan JingYi’s eyes, however, are alight. “Then what are we waiting for?”

The shadows are lengthening by the time their merry group reaches the Tieshan mountains. It’s a maze of sharp rock with little greenery growing on it; the natural border between the Nie sect’s territory and the former Qishan Wen sect’s region. Naturally the area saw clashes during the SunShot campaign, and some of the resentful energy yet lingers.

To Nie MingJue’s surprise Wei WuXian turns their excursion into a lesson, questioning the two on how the aftermath of battles can affect the environment. Any corpses have long since been cleared from the mountains, and the juniors discuss how earth, water, rock, vegetation or animals may have been affected either by talismans and the energy used, the bloodshed, or reminders of the corpses.

They’re bright, he must admit and notices a movement from the corner of his eye. In the twilight it’s hard to spot, but against the familiar stillness of Tieshan Nie MingJue knows what he saw.

Wei WuXian directs the juniors to investigate a particular cave (brimming with a very peculiar type of dark energy. Nie MingJue is fairly certain the culprit is a squirrel that had a nibble at some dead thing about to turn into a ferocious corpse and then turned itself. It’s not that uncommon an occurrence; the squirrels of Tieshan have always had an inclination to be vicious little beasts who missed no chance at becoming larger beasts).

“We’re being followed,” Nie MingJue says quietly to Wei WuXian. The other man must have noticed, too.

Wei WuXian blinks, then his face makes some complicated movements. “Ah. Yes.”

“You know who it is?”

Wei WuXian looks uncomfortable. “The … Wen Ning.”

“The Ghost General?!”

“Yes. But he’s not bad, and I’m sure he’s only here because of Lan Yuan, and really, he won’t hurt a fly, and he’s not going to bother us! He’s just here to, to, to accompany us, and he’s not going to come out, and if you want me to, I can send him away!” Wei WuXian hurries to explain, waving both his hands as if to ward off a strike. “Really, ChiFeng-Zun, I promise he’s harmless! He did save Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng, too, when you –“

Wei WuXian awkwardly stops himself from saying “when your corpse was about to kill them”, and then barrels on. “He saved them! So, he’s harmless! I mean, back then, he –“

“Alright, alright,” Nie MingJue interrupts him with a wave of his hand. “As long as he’s under your control.”

He finds that the name Wen no longer evokes the fury it once did. Even when he purposefully recalls his father’s death, the wrongs done – years have passed since. Wen RuoHan died, the Wen sect fallen. Unlike Jin GuangYao this was not an anger he had carried to the grave.

Wei WuXian doesn’t look entirely convinced but keeps his silence.

Nie MingJue looks at the darkening landscape. “Wasn’t he supposed to be gone?”

“That was another lie.” A shadow passes over Wei WuXian’s face; some old hurt that hasn’t fully healed. He tilts his head. “What did Jin GuangShan claim? That he had taken him in battle?”

“Yes,” Nie MingJue nods. They’d all been surprised at the news. Both, because the Ghost General had been known to be powerful, and Jin GuangShan not known for his prowess in battle. “Many died at Koi Tower.” It had been turned into a dramatic tale that at least seemed vaguely believable.

Wei WuXian laughs without humor. “I know. I don’t know how much of it was true.” He takes a deep breath. “Wen Ning and Wen Qing went to Lanling on their own to give themselves up. They did it to protect the last ones of their clan. And me.”

At that time Nie MingJue had struggled with his own worsening issues. His misgivings toward Jin GuangYao; the situation in Qishan. He’d paid little attention to what went on in Lanling and Yiling; even now he finds his memories unclear. But he understands the pain in Wei WuXian’s voice.

“And then Jin GuangShan claimed he’d taken them in battle,” he states drily, unsurprised. Jin GuangShan had never been a very upright character. Jin GuangYao’s presence had not helped.

“Or Jin GuangYao advised him to, I do not know.” Wei WuXian says. “Nor do I know why all those people died then. I thought it had been my fault - I was losing control, I was ... But then Jin GuangYao tried to kill a thousand cultivators using me as a scapegoat, again, and now I’m no longer certain.”

Nie MingJue recalls what he was told about Jin GuangYao’s final plot. “Orchestrating all those deaths at Koi Tower seems like something he would have done.” The words taste bitter, and he takes a deep breath to calm the old anger.

“Or it could have been me, I don’t know.” Wei WuXian now looks a far cry from the arrogant youth he’d been. Or perhaps he’d never been, that had always just been the face he’d shown the world. His shoulders look bowed under a familiar weight.

“Can’t you ask?” Nie MingJue says. “If the Ghost … if Wen Ning is still around?” He doesn’t know how the Ghost General works; perhaps there’s some inhibition stopping him from answering Wei WuXian’s questions.

Wei WuXian sighs. “... I don’t know if he remembers. After I came back, when I first met him, he’d been unconscious. I mean, he was moving and following commands, but he couldn’t think for himself.”

Nie MingJue sucks in a sharp breath. “So he could have been commanded to kill all the people at Koi Tower?” He recalls what he heard about Xue Yang. What he’d not even suspected back then, despite his misgivings toward Jin GuangYao and Jin GuangShan’s protege.

Wei WuXian nods, defeat in his posture. It’s so untypical for him, and yet Nie MingJue thinks he can finally grasp what motivated the Yiling Patriarch during those final months. It was never sheer evil, though by his own admission he’d been losing his grip, but despair and knowing no one would believe him.

“I’m sorry,” Nie MingJue says.

Wei WuXian looks up, surprise widening his eyes.

“For my part in the battle then. I joined the cause without making my own investigations.” He had been distracted, decided to trust the words of those who’d been at his side during the SunShot campaign.

“Ach, that’s … all in the past,” Wei WuXian replies after a beat. “And well. I had it coming.” He tries to smile. “I only regret I could not protect the people then. I had promised them, and in the end… they sacrificed themselves for me.”

A lot of this should never have happened, Nie MingJue thinks. “In that case you must have done something right. People don’t sacrifice themselves without good cause.”

Wei WuXian inclines his head. “Thank you.” He glances toward the cave, but so far, no suspicious noise has come from it. Squirrels, even evil ones, are very good at hiding.

“Shall we give them a hand?” Nie MingJue suggests, catching the direction of his gaze. They’re both glad for the change of topic. “It might reflect badly on us if we let them get eaten.”

Wei WuXian blinks. Then snorts.

In the end, the juniors don’t require much support. There’s a moment where the squirrel attempts to launch a surprise attack at the boys (it’s a squirrel, it can’t do that much harm) and Wen Ning abruptly appears on the scene to put himself between the squirrel and the boys.

Nie MingJue watches the scene with some surprise. Wei WuXian looks as if he wants to say something but holds his tongue. Lan JingYi uses the sort of language he’d get punished for in Gusu while trying to keep the squirrel at bay, and Lan SiZhui is the one to finally net it.

“Are you alright, A-Yuan?” Wen Ning asks the boy. His face doesn’t betray any emotion, but his voice sounds very, very worried.

Nie MingJue looks at Wei WuXian. He has questions. The other man manages a sheepish smile.

JingYi catches Nie MingJue’s expression. “Ah, don’t worry about it, senior Hui. The Ghost General just really likes SiZhui. Nobody knows why, but he’s good to have around.”

Well. Wei WuXian looks as if he knows exactly why, Nie MingJue thinks. But he’s the only one, so he won’t ask.

It’s already late at night when they return to Qinghe. The conference has concluded for the day - a new chief cultivator still not chosen - and most people have retired or left for some merry-making in town.

Nie MingJue’s steps lead him toward the sect leader’s office once again. Like last night, light still shines through the curtains, and HuaiSang sits behind his desk, writing correspondences.

“Big brother,” he greets, looking tired.

“HuaiSang.” He finds he doesn’t know what to say. Part of him wants to send HuaiSang to bed. But the one across him is the sect leader, and it’s been ten years. And looking at him, he can’t help but recall what he spoke about with Lan XiChen earlier.

“Where did you go?” HuaiSang asks, setting aside the brush. “I looked for you after dinner, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Guilt brushes against Nie MingJue’s mind. He should have expected HuaiSang to look for him, regardless of how busy he obviously is. “I went night hunting with Wei WuXian and some Lan juniors.”

“Ah.”

“The Ghost General also turned up.”

“Ah?” HuaiSang gives him a droll look.

Nie MingJue crosses the space and sits on the other side of the desk. He can’t quite read HuaiSang’s mood, but presses on nevertheless. “It ended up quite an illuminating encounter. I wonder, do you know whether Jin GuangYao also caused the incident at Koi Tower?”

HuaiSang stiffens. “Why do you … You mean when the Ghost General went on rampage?”

Nie MingJue nods. He had been alive, but not paid much attention then.

HuaiSang’s shoulders slump and he runs a hand over his face. “There is no hard evidence, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. When … people who were there that day described the Ghost General to have white eyes, and to be grunting and roaring. But - all other reports - said he was speaking clearly and had black pupils.”

Put like this the difference seems stark. Yet somehow, all those years nobody had put it together. Nie MingJue feels like wringing Jin GuangYao’s neck all over again.

“That’s quite some investigating you have done, HuaiSang,” he says. He means it as a compliment, but HuaiSang looks as if he doesn’t know what to make of the words.

“It was necessary,” HuaiSang offers quietly.

Nie MingJue understands that he doesn’t only refer to the research. And his chest tightens, whatever levity the excursion granted evaporating. He promised Lan XiChen to take HuaiSang to task. But here his little brother watches him warily as if expecting an outburst or a strike, and Nie MingJue has no anger left.

“HuaiSang,” he says and reaches out across the desk between them, making sure to keep his movements slow as he grips his brother’s hand. And it’s still the same bird-boned thing, except Nie MingJue finds he cannot recall when he last did so before his death.

“I think,” he begins and pushes down the impulse to tell his brother everything is fine. HuaiSang won’t believe him, and he will only be angry at himself when the words don’t turn out to be true. “It might help if you could explain some these things to XiChen.”

HuaiSang’s eyes widen. “If he will see me…”

“He will,” Nie MingJue promises. 

HuaiSang doesn’t look convinced. He nods anyway.

 tbc

Chapter Text

The next morning dawns grey and windy. The conference will resume after lunchtime, leaving time for private discussions. In a comfortable room, three men sit around a table in silence, their tea growing cold. HuaiSang nervously plays with a fan, Lan XiChen stares melancholy into space.

Nie MingJue crosses his arms, exasperated. He’s not the right person to handle this.

“HuaiSang. Apologize,” Nie MingJue orders bluntly. He promised XiChen an apology, and it’s as good a point to start as any.

His brother flinches. But without hesitation he bows his head low. “I’m sorry.” It sounds honest. But it’s also clear he has little idea what he’s apologizing for.

“MingJue, I said it’s not necessary,” Lan XiChen returns. “HuaiSang, please sit up. I should be offering my apologies instead. I never -”

“Please, brother XiChen,” HuaiSang hurries to interrupt. Then he hesitates, eyes sliding to his brother. “My brother is right. You know how he is. And even if I am not quite as upright as him, I do know my actions have harmed you.”

“I’m sorry, I truly am,” HuaiSang continues. His head is bowed, shoulders slumped. “I know you don’t believe me, and I can’t blame you. For what it’s worth, brother XiChen. At that time, Jin GuangYao had moved. If he would have attacked you, I do not know.”

Lan XiChen shudders. Nie MingJue knows his brother’s answer is useless.

“It’s the same regarding Hui FeiYu. I never met him, but there’s no proof, and it doesn’t matter. You see, if I say I did not you will think I am lying, if I say I did, it will be a confession.” HuaiSang’s voice is but a whisper. Nie MingJue’s heart sinks. This is the bitter truth.

“But it’s fine,” HuaiSang suddenly straightens up. He dons a smile that’s so fake a blind man could see through it. “It’s fine. This was bound to happen. It’s alright.”

“It’s not!” Nie MingJue bursts out. He’s out of his chair before he knows it, gripping the arms of HuaiSang’s seat and trapping him. His younger brother flinches backward, and this shouldn’t happen. “It’s fucking not alright!”

“I’m so sorry, HuaiSang,” Lan XiChen says quietly. “I left you alone with a terrible burden. This is -”

“Not your fault,” HuaiSang interrupts, somewhere between petulant and pained. He breathes deeply. “Brother XiChen, of all people in this, you carry the least blame.”

“Well, then why did you use him?” Nie MingJue demands louder than he means to. Why did it have to be XiChen who dealt the fatal blow; the one person he must have known to suffer worst from the fallout anyway. Why add to his suffering? “If you knew that, then why did you not -”

“How many choices did I have?” HuaiSang returns sharply. But the fire in eyes flickers out in the blink of an eye (or is doused, Nie MingJue cannot tell). “No, you’re right, big brother. I should have -”

“But you didn’t use me,” Lan XiChen says, abruptly. “You left me out, until the very end and you had no other choice no? You used Wei WuXian, WangJi - so many others. But never me. Until the end.”

HuaiSang says nothing.

“Once you saw through A-Yao,” Lan XiChen says as a new picture begins to form before their eyes. “You would have known how central I was to him. His plots.” His face twists for a moment. “If you’d used me, this would have concluded much faster. Easier, too.” It would have. Even though he’d been dead then, Nie MingJue understands that. There’d been no cultivator who’d not trusted Lan XiChen’s word. If he’d accused Jin GuangYao, not even his status as chief cultivator could have protected him. Instead, HuaiSang had chosen a far more convoluted path.

“I... you were too close to Jin GuangYao,” HuaiSang says, and his voice sounds like a stranger’s. “If he even suspected, it would have never worked.”

Lan XiChen stands from his seat and crosses over, too. Unlike Nie MingJue who still towers over the chair, keeping his little brother prisoner, he crouches down next to it. “HuaiSang, I’m sorry. Truly sorry. For not realizing how deeply hurt you were then - this was why you sought out Wei WuXian’s manuscripts, no?”

Nie MingJue holds his breath. That’s the other thing haunting him, ever since Lan XiChen mentioned the possibility.

A minute tremor runs through HuaiSang.

“There is no need to apologize, brother XiChen,” HuaiSang says, faintly. “It was a terrible time for you, too, and you helped a lot. Far more than any person could have expected, truly.”

Nie MingJue’s blood runs cold. That is not an answer, even less a denial.

“And yet I missed so much,” Lan XiChen returns, reaching out to pull one of HuaiSang’s hands from his sleeves. “How do you think I would have felt if … one day it had not been you there?” If he’d done what Mo XuanYu had done.

The image lingers between them, heavy. Then HuaiSang musters a fake laugh. “In the end I chose not to because I thought big brother would be so upset to be in this useless body, he’d immediately suffer from a qi deviation again.”

Nie MingJue’s heart breaks. Lan XiChen looks just as upset, but HuaiSang continues before any of them react. “It was around the time I found out big brother’s body had been dismembered.” His lips quirk without humor. “Obviously, I had other things on my mind then.”

“Then I’m glad he did it,” Nie MingJue says and both Lan XiChen and HuaiSang look scandalized.

“I think he wanted to stop you from becoming a fierce corpse,” HuaiSang offers, voice a little lighter. “It was one of his less successful undertakings. Your arm alone did take down Lan QiRen and nearly Lan WangJi, too. It did take Wei WuXian to finally put it to rest.”

“Heh, well.” Nie MingJue can’t help but preen a little. Because if he’d come back as a fierce corpse, he’d better be the strongest out there.

“Be that as it may,” Lan XiChen speaks up quietly. “The arm caused the death of four people in Mo village.” While the reprimand is directed at Nie MingJue, it’s HuaiSang who bows his head.

“Yes. And it endangered your sect’s disciples, too.” He tries to pull his hand from Lan XiChen’s grip, but the other holds onto it.

“That was what you wanted, was it not? To have us investigate the arm, to find the truth behind it.”

“Brother XiChen,” HuaiSang replies. “You needn’t … find nice words for what I did. I was aware of the bloodshed the arm might cause; it was a risk I consciously allowed, and,” he swallows, “if you wish for it, I will face the consequences, too.”

Nie MingJue sucks in a sharp breath. That’s a death sentence. And yet he can’t help but think of Jin GuangYao who’d protested in this very same situation. No, they’re not the same. Jin GuangYao’s shadow may linger of HuaiSang, but they’re very different after all, and a weight falls from Nie MingJue’s shoulders despite everything.

Lan XiChen looks pale. “HuaiSang, you know I don’t want that.”

“Is there even any proof?” Nie MingJue asks, and he can’t help if it comes out harsher than he means it. With Jin GuangYao he’d seen him kill his commander, kill MingJue’s companions. “Did you kill any of these people with your own hands?”

Both give him bewildered looks. In a way he’s surprised at himself.

“... I did not,” HuaiSang says after a beat. “But does it matter? I know what I did was wrong; I’ve always known I’m not a good enough person to do these things right. I… Now that big brother is back, he can be sect leader. It will put everyone’s mind at ease.”

“HuaiSang!” Nie MingJue and Lan XiChen yell at the same time.

But HuaiSang merely giggles and the light to his eyes looks not quite right. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he assures them. “Big brother can put me to the sword himself, and all doubts will be assuaged. Then it will be finally over, then everyone can get on with their lives and -”

“HuaiSang!” Nie MingJue roars and shakes the chair.

HuaiSang flinches violently, falls silent. He trembles, either from fright or stress, and Nie MingJue regrets his outburst. He leans forward, reaches out to gently touch HuaiSang’s hair, yet his little brother ducks his head as if expecting to be struck.

When did things go so wrong?

“HuaiSang. that’s … that’s not my meaning. Never was,” Nie MingJue says and makes sure to keep his voice quiet. Despite his brother’s tension, he touches his face, gently runs a hand over his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

And there is so much he needs to apologize for, isn’t there? Not only the weeks before his death when he’d been ill-tempered, but all those instances he’d called HuaiSang useless and thought nothing of it.

HuaiSang’s face twists, he scrunches his eyes shut, but tears trickle from them despite it. Unlike all the other times, he’s crying quietly, shaky breaths and barely any other sound.

“I’m sorry, too,” he gasps.

“HuaiSang,” Lan XiChen calls gently, and glances up to catch Nie MingJue’s eye. “I think I will let you talk with your brother now. But you can find me anytime, and I hope you will. I never meant for anything to happen to you, and I can only hope one day you can forgive me, too.”

HuaiSang shakes his head, unable to form words. Lan XiChen slowly climbs to his feet, sighing softly. There’s many wounds yet to heal, and Nie MingJue can’t begrudge Lan XiChen needing time himself.

“I shall stall the conference a little,” Lan XiChen offers with a smile, before he disappears from the room.  

Nie MingJue takes a deep breath. His little brother continues to cry in silence, and he’s never been great at offering comfort. But he does understand taking responsibility for his actions. And taking action.

He swiftly plucks HuaiSang from the chair, sits down himself and pulls the other onto his lap. The chair creaks in protest, but it’s solidly made, and surprise has HuaiSang momentarily stop crying.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Nie MingJue confesses. “You know me. Give me something to stab at, and I’m good. This … I think I’m just starting to see how terrible I am at it.”

HuaiSang blinks up at him, eyes wide and surprised. “Big brother, that’s alright?” His voice shakes, and Nie MingJue can’t help but tighten his grip.

“What in the world could be alright if my little brother tells me to kill him?” He can’t help the burn in his own eyes. Doesn’t have a hand free to wipe away the wetness either. And HuaiSang pales.

“That, ah, I meant -”

“No. You meant it.” It’s a bitter admission to himself, even. “You said you’d thought about offering your own body, too. What is there to misunderstand?”

HuaiSang sucks in a shuddering breath and says nothing.

And Nie MingJue finds himself crying.

He hasn’t cried since he was a young boy. Even when his father died he’d shed no tears; he’d only known rage and fury ever since. Perhaps it’s Hui FeiYu’s temperament. Perhaps dying changed everything.

“What in the world is there to misunderstand, HuaiSang? I … I know I’d not done right by you, I know I’d fallen short a lot. But I … I hadn’t known I’d failed so badly.”

A slender hand reaches up to tug at the collar of his robe. “You didn’t fail, big brother.” HuaiSang tries a smile, but the pain is still so fresh in his eyes Nie MingJue knows it’s just for his sake. “I’ve just always been usele-”

“No!”

He’d never known he could hate a word. But if he could travel back in time, he’d hit himself for each time he called HuaiSang that.

“HuaiSang, please. You’re not - you’ve never been that,” Nie MingJue reprimands, trying for strict, but his voice keeps shaking. It’s worse than being kicked by Wen RuoHan. So much worse. “And I should have never called you that. I was wrong. Wrong!”

HuaiSang watches him, and though there’s hope in his eyes, he doesn’t believe it. And how could he, after a lifetime of being called useless by even those supposedly caring for him.

Nie MingJue can only hold him tight and wish for the best. “Look at you, you’ve taken down Jin GuangYao. Nobody else could have done that, nobody else even realized things were wrong. But you did, and you outwitted him, and -”

“People died for it.”

Nie MingJue pauses for a moment. “Jin GuangYao would have said that blood wasn’t on his hands.”

HuaiSang blinks.

“You are not useless, HuaiSang. I was wrong to say so.” And so was everyone else.

A shadow passes over HuaiSang’s face that doesn’t belong there, but his eyes are clear when he looks up to his brother.

“You know,” he says quietly. “When I couldn’t find you last night I wondered if you had left. After hearing what I had done, you’d been so angry you’d simply turned around and left again. I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Nie MingJue’s heart clenches. Has he truly been such a terrible brother?

“Don’t ever think that,” he manages, throat closing up. “Please. Don’t ever think I would abandon you. Please.”

“It’s … it’s alright, big brother,” HuaiSang manages, eventually. His voice sounds thin. “It’s in the past, now.”

It’s not alright, Nie MingJue thinks. But he cannot undo the past, can only try to change the future. “I’m sorry,” he says, quieter. “I’m sorry I made you think all these things. I was a terrible big brother then, and apparently dying hasn’t improved me much, either.”

“N-no, not at all,” HuaiSang hurries to assure.

Nie MingJue hugs him closer and hopes his actions convey his meaning better than those clumsy words. “I really left you a mess, didn’t I?”

“You couldn’t exactly help it,” HuaiSang points out.

“But I could have been kinder to you,” Nie MingJue counters, throat clogging again. In hindsight his failures stand out too stark; all the times when he forced his little brother to train with a saber that never suited him. Had he been more open-minded, he might have seen his brother’s talent for strategy.

“Ach, you spoiled me plenty,” HuaiSang replies. Yet fancy gifts (which at times were, in fact, apologies for harsh words) are not the same as honest attention. HuaiSang knows that, too. “Even if, I may have not applied myself without a reason.”

“Would that have been so bad?” Nie MingJue asks, and HuaiSang’s eyes widen with surprise.

“I know I did not act it toward the end,” Nie MingJue admits. “But all I ever wanted was to protect you.” His little brother had been everything he’d had left. Who’d kept his smile and innocence despite their parent’s early deaths, despite the bloodshed surrounding them. “I’ve not done particularly well, I’m afraid.”

“Big brother,” HuaiSang protests, and doesn’t hide his own red-rimmed eyes. “You weren’t even twenty and there was a war coming. I understood that, even then.”

“But the damage was done, nonetheless,” Nie MingJue replies.

HuaiSang doesn’t deny it. “You were hurting, too.”

Hindsight only makes it obvious how ridiculous the situation they’d been thrust in was. Two children leading a major sect in a growing conflict against the most powerful sect among them all, burdened by a duty to take revenge and an ill-fated cultivational practice.

“I was,” Nie MingJue can admit it now. Others had doubted his qualifications long and loudly, Wen RuoHan had mocked him, so he’d never allowed these words to be spoken.

With a quiet exhale, HuaiSang slumps against him. Nie MingJue feels guilty; his brother looks exhausted and he’ll have to chair the discussion conference in the afternoon. But the air between them feels calmer now; as things that should have been voiced a decade ago have finally been said.

“I’m glad I’m back,” Nie MingJue says. 'So I can finally say what I failed to say then' - he doesn't say it. But his brother understands it, anyway.

Chapter Text

Nie MingJue doesn’t want to let go of his little brother. Wants to put himself between HuaiSang and the world and protect him from all harm. But in the end, HuaiSang gently disentangles himself and dabs cooled tea at his eyes until the redness recedes. Within moments, HuaiSang has pulled himself together, grief firmly locked away.

“You’ve grown,” Nie MingJue comments.

HuaiSang flashes him a wry smile. “I had to,” he says without heat.

Nie MingJue nods. He remembers wishing for HuaiSang to grow up. Now that it’s come to pass, he can’t help but miss the kind, if naive innocence his brother once possessed. With a sigh, he climbs to his feet, too, stretches.

“I’ll go and see to the conference,” HuaiSang says, casting a look outside. It’s well past noon, and Lan XiChen will only be able to stall for so long. “Will you come?”

Nie MingJue shakes his head. “There’s a few things I need to think about.”

As the conference resumes, Nie MingJue climbs up the mountain face until he reaches a hidden little cove he’d often retreated to as a teenager. An actual meditation pavilion sits atop the mountain, but there are several small crooks and niches at a lower height just as suited to meditation, and far less visible.

He sighs, gazes at the landscape. When he was young, he’d used the chilly wind up here to cool his head. And different body or not, he still finds his heart calming at the familiar view. Still, the troubling questions continue to gnaw at him, even if he thinks he has all the answers now.

After a while, voices draw him from his meditation.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, slow down,” a familiar voice calls out. Nie MingJue opens his eyes and spots two figures in the air underneath his hiding place. Wei WuXian wobbles dangerously on his sword; Lan Zhan hovers nearby.

“Uhhh, why is this so difficult?” Wei WuXian complains as he directs his sword toward Lan Zhan with visible difficulty. “This body’s cultivation is really just too low.”

“Keep trying,” Lan Zhan advises.

“I am!” Wei WuXian insists and the sword speeds up abruptly. He stays on, but flails his arms, obviously off balance. A split second later he’s falling (though Nie MingJue observes the sword keeps hovering in the air; apparently Wei WuXian’s new body is not entirely hopeless), and Lan Zhan dashes forward.

He catches Wei WuXian elegantly in his arms, holds him close. Maybe that fall was not an accident, Nie MingJue thinks.

“Thank you, Lan Zhan,” Wei WuXian mutters. Their faces tilt to another, and Nie MingJue feels himself growing red as what he initially expected to be a short, innocent kiss turns into something lewd. The clear mountain air also carries the noises particularly well. Really. No wonder Lan QiRen looks so close to a qi deviation whenever Wei WuXian is nearby.

Grinning to himself, Nie MingJue thinks he doesn’t begrudge those two their happiness. Not when he’d witnessed the despair in Lan WangJi’s eyes, or seen the grief written over Wei WuXian’s face. Maybe, his mind continues, following this unfamiliar mellow stream as the two forms below him linger in their embrace, the mess he returned to is not that bad in the end.

After all, they’re alive. XiChen, HuaiSang. No matter how the past has hurt them, they are alive. And he is, too. He really owes Hui FeiYu for that.

His stream of thought is interrupted by an indecent moan from below him. “Lan er-gege,” Wei WuXian murmurs and answers many questions Nie MingJue had never even wanted to ask.

“Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi returns just as reverently and Nie MingJue decides it is high time to remove himself from the situation.

Around late afternoon, the doors of the discussion hall open. Numerous cultivators flock out, relief written over their faces, and cheerful chatter filling the air. Nie MingJue picks a spot on a roof, hidden from view but well within earshot.

Jiang Cheng had been elected as Chief Cultivator. Not everyone is happy, but most have been convinced after Lan XiChen, too, spoke in his favor.

It’s a good choice, Nie MingJue thinks. Jiang Cheng is young, but he’s got his heart in the right place. To be honest, he would not have minded the position going to HuaiSang (he’d be the proudest older brother in the world), but after their discussion earlier he understands why HuaiSang has no interest. He decides to be proud anyway.

“Chief Cultivator Jiang,” a familiar voice says behind him and Nie MingJue almost jumps out of his skin. “Thank you for your time.”

He turns his head, and yes, his hiding spot is just underneath a window. In his time as a sect leader he rarely utilized the upper floor rooms of the compound; he’s forgotten their existence. Apparently HuaiSang has not.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Cheng replies. For a man freshly elected Chief Cultivator, he doesn’t sound overly ecstatic.

“Please, sit,” HuaiSang entreats. “Help yourself to anything you’d like, I’m afraid this may take a moment.”

There’s a sound of wood scraping against a floor and rustling of clothes. Nie MingJue glances at the courtyard - this isn’t a conversation he ought to hear. Yet there are too many people down there to escape unnoticed.

“I know you have misgivings regarding my actions,” HuaiSang begins. He sounds confident, but Nie MingJue finds himself holding his breath. “They’re not unwarranted, I know that. So, considering your new office and for the sake of not letting any old grievances linger, I would like to share with you all the information I collected regarding the past events bringing us here.”

Jiang Cheng inhales sharply. So does Nie MingJue.

“Very well,” Jiang Cheng says. Fingers drum on wood. Nie MingJue feels himself tense.

The tale HuaiSang tells begins when they were young, includes Xue Yang, the Stygian Tiger Seal, Jin ZiXuan’s death. Jiang Cheng does not interrupt, not even when Wen Ning is mentioned.

“I read the Wen sect’s records retrieved from the Nightless City,” HuaiSang says, allowing both Jiang Cheng and his older brother to understand how he pierced together such a complete picture when many of the people around then had already died. “There was a report from some cultivators near Yunmeng they had spotted you and Wei WuXian. But it was only you whom they captured.”

Nie MingJue remembers he’d been infuriated when he’d heard about Lotus Pier burning and the deaths of Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan. He can’t recall any captures.

“… I suppose if Jin GuangYao guessed it, I should not be surprised you figured it out, too.” Jiang Cheng sighs.

“Ah, don’t misunderstand, please,” HuaiSang returns. “I was wondering – I can’t imagine you split ways voluntarily at that time. Meaning you allowed for yourself to be captured… But Wei WuXian doesn’t know that, does he?”

There’s a thud as a tea cup is set down a little too fast. “I have nothing to say to him. And it’s none of your business.”

“It’s not,” HuaiSang agrees. “But Wen Ning has been to Qishan recently, and I expect he will ask for his family’s keepsakes before long. I don’t plan on withholding those.”

“Great,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “Just great.” But he doesn’t tell HuaiSang not to do so, and Nie MingJue once more can’t help but realize how far they’ve all come. Once Jiang Cheng would have said the only good Wen was a dead one. Now he’s allowing an, admittedly, dead descendant to begin reclaiming his family heirlooms.

HuaiSang picks up the tale again. The mood grows solemn as more recent events are addressed, and the entirety of HuaiSang’s subtle manipulations grows clear.

“So why, if you put all of this together, did you not make it so we’d never doubt you?” Jiang Cheng asks once the tale has been completed. “It would not have been difficult. Not for you.”

“It’s what Jin GuangYao would have done,” HuaiSang replies quietly. “Has done.”

“People would have called you a hero. You heard what they’re saying now.”

“I spent years being called a good for nothing. Jiang Wanyin let me be honest: I don’t care what people call me. I have no desire to be a hero or anything. All I wanted was to give my brother peace.”

Outside, underneath the window Nie MingJue swallows harshly.

“And now that brother has returned…”

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I truly didn’t have a hand in that.” Surprisingly HuaiSang sounds amused. “Isn’t it ironic? I’m trying to let him rest in peace and he promptly reincarnates.”

Well. That is one way to put it.

Jiang Cheng appears momentarily taken aback. “Aren’t you glad?”

“Of course I am,” HuaiSang protests, and an awkward silence descends.

Eventually HuaiSang clears his throat. “In any case, I hope I could assuage your doubts and if, in the future - “

“Yes, yes,” Jiang Cheng interrupts. “Anyway. What do you plan to do now?”

“I? I don’t … Ah, concerning the sect leadership, you mean? Well, my brother and I haven’t really discussed it yet, but of course I’ll hand over the leadership,” HuaiSang says. “It might probably have to wait a moment, seeing as many people don’t yet know about his return, but that shouldn’t take too long.”

Except, Nie MingJue doesn’t think he wants to retake his position as sect leader. In wartime he was a good leader - resolute, steadfast, and successful. Yet they are no longer at war and the world has changed.

“I see,” Jiang Cheng replies flatly.

“It’s probably for the best,” HuaiSang hurries to add with a light laugh. “That way you don’t need to wonder whether or not I’m scheming anything.”

Nie MingJue grits his teeth and swallows down the protest on his lips. Jiang Cheng huffs. “That wasn’t my meaning,” he says. “After you landed me that job on top of everything, the least you could do is show some support.”

HuaiSang makes a noise of surprise. Same, Nie MingJue thinks. Same.

“Look, I’m used to people turning their backs on me. But Jin Ling is in a different situation,” Jiang Cheng continues sharply.

The room falls silent once more. Nie MingJue casts a glance down; the sun is setting, the courtyard has emptied. He could slip away. But he’s too curious.

“...I’m not sure what you wish for me to say,” HuaiSang offers. “You do have my support, both of you, if that is your meaning. I’m not blind to the grief I caused your nephew.”

Ah, and that might be the heart of the matter. Jiang Cheng may not hold any sympathies toward Jin GuangYao, but Jin Ling’s feelings are a different.

“Then I would appreciate any future support to be perhaps less secret or surprising,” Jiang Cheng replies gruffly. “We both know no one from Chang’an would head to Lanling now if not for an explicit recommendation. Maybe ask people if they want to be Chief Cultivator before you nominate them.”

“… did you not want to?” HuaiSang asks, perplexed.

Jiang Cheng makes a complicated sound that probably expresses his feelings on the matter better than any word could. It must be some form of agreement, though, because HuaiSang laughs and the air in the room has eased.

Nie MingJue takes the chance to slip away.

As his mind yet spins from all the things he learned during the day, Nie MingJue does as he once did: seeks out the training ground and takes out his saber. Night has fallen, and everyone must be in the large hall for the banquet, celebrating their new Chief Cultivator.

He falls into familiar movements. Hui FeiYu’s body has now learned to follow these, caught up to the strength Nie MingJue once possessed, though not his level of cultivation. Yet as they are not at war, he doesn’t mind as much.

“I thought I’d find you here,” somebody calls out to him.

Nie MingJue pauses. Lan XiChen is a bright figure against the dark, and the gentle smile is back on his face.

“XiChen,” Nie MingJue greets. “Are you not at dinner?”

Lan XiChen shakes his head as he draws up next to Nie MingJue. “I don’t quite feel as if I belong there,” he replies, a little wistful.

Nie MingJue’s heart aches for him. But he understands, too. “Yes,” he agrees. “It’s very different.” Once they’d been the ones to lead these celebrations. He’d always expected Lan XiChen to become Chief Cultivator. But the world changed too much.

“It is,” Lan XiChen agrees.

“Then what will you do?” Nie MingJue wonders out loud, echoing Jiang Cheng’s earlier question. “You are still the Lan sect leader, are you not?”

Lan XiChen chuckles. “I am, though I’m afraid my uncle has had to shoulder the duties recently.” He tilts his head up, gazes at the first stars as they come alight. “I may ask him to continue for a while longer, though I feel terrible for it.”

“You will go back into seclusion?” Nie MingJue asks, and his heart sinks. He’d hoped to restore at least a little happiness to Lan XiChen.

Lan XiChen shakes his head. His cheeks, Nie MingJue notices, are faintly flushed. “Actually, I was thinking of taking a leaf out of WangJi’s book.”

“... find the returned soul of a former enemy, make them your cultivation partner, and expose a number of crimes along the way?” Nie MingJue summarizes. He can’t help if his heart beats a little faster.

Lan XiChen smiles at him, and he’s still so beautiful after all these years. “He’s not a former enemy, though,” he returns, and there’s no denying the redness of his cheeks. Nie MingJue doubts he looks much better.

“I was thinking about wandering for a while,” Lan XiChen says. “Seclusion… hasn’t brought me clarity. But maybe traveling the world and helping others the way WangJi and Wei WuXian do will.”

It feels right, Nie MingJue thinks. And it’s something he can see for himself, too. “That sounds like a good idea. Do you mind if I tag along?” A part of him can’t help but remember their youth. Before everything had gone wrong, when they’d night hunted together a few times, still juniors without responsibilities.

Lan XiChen blinks. “What about HuaiSang? I thought you would…”

Nie MingJue shakes his head. “I think I might be the same as you. The world has moved on.” There’s no space for either of them in that hall - not because the people in there don’t want them there or would deny them their places. But they both have fallen out of time.

Lan XiChen chuckles. “In that case I would be glad for your company.”

This will need much preparation. Nie MingJue knows HuaiSang might protest. Lan QiRen will protest. But right now, he can’t help feeling both relieved and happy - there’s a future he’s looking forward to.

“Then, before we set out, I’m afraid I may have grown a little rusty with my saber. Mind helping me out a bit?” Nie MingJue taps the saber at his side, nods to Lan XiChen’s sword.

“You, rusty?” Lan XiChen returns, the minuscule hesitation before he grips draws his sword passing unremarked. “I just saw you. You’re what, younger than me now?”

“Yeah, but I was dead for a decade,” Nie MingJue returns with a grin as he slips into position. “That gives you an advantage.”

And Lan XiChen does not flinch but snorts and makes the opening move.

 tbc

Chapter Text

Most sects depart the following morning. It’s a beautiful day, the weather cool but sunny the way Qinghe tends to be in late spring. Nie MingJue watches the proceedings from a corner. He bid his erstwhile travel companions goodbye earlier, much to their disappointment. Perhaps, he thinks, he and XiChen can go and see them on their journey.

“Big brother,” HuaiSang’s steps are still so silent that the rustle of his robe seems louder. “Would you join me for lunch?” He looks relieved most of the guests are gone; and those who linger for now have issues to address themselves.

Nie MingJue rises. “Sure,” he says. “What do you say, little brother. Should we go into town?”

HuaiSang agrees, and changes into simpler robes before they depart. Some senior disciples protest quietly: “Sect Leader, if you go out at least have someone accompany you!”

“Don’t worry, Master Hui is an accomplished cultivator. And we’re only going to eat,” HuaiSang waves them off. Nie MingJue feels several assessing gazes rest on him and finds himself amused. Not too few of those disciples learned that glare and their skills from him!

“Then why have I never heard of this Master Hui,” somebody mutters, but HuaiSang ignores it, and instead pulls Nie MingJue out of the gate by his sleeve. There’s a good chance the disciples will tail them, anyhow.

A part of Nie MingJue contemplates flying by sword to Qinghe- HuaiSang’s cultivation level has improved and he’s curious just how much - but then again: it’s a nice stroll through the forest. Another thing he’d never paid much attention to before his death, too harried by politics and pressure.

“Sect Leader Nie,” people in town greet them as they pass. Qinghe is abuzz, livelier than Nie MingJue remembers. He has to stop himself from answering; HuaiSang is sect leader now and the short conversations with shopkeepers and merchants mean little to Nie MingJue.

They enter a restaurant Nie MingJue remembers from childhood; though the interior has been polished, and there are silk cushions lining the private room overlooking the river. The owner hurries to provide them with not only food, but a jar of Emperor’s Smile. “On the house,” the man says with a smile. “Always obliged for your business, sect leader.”

HuaiSang thanks him, though the moment the door has been shut, he grimaces. “It’s so awkward to be called sect leader when you’re sitting next to me.”

Nie MingJue shrugs over a mouthful of spicy noodles. He doesn’t particularly mind.

Unlike him, HuaiSang picks at the food. “Are you sure you don’t want to be sect leader? It … might make things a little easier for others, too.”

Nie MingJue recalls the conversation he overheard the day before and reluctantly puts his chopsticks down. “I don’t need to be sect leader and you are doing an excellent job. Probably better than I could.”

Over the last few days, that has become clear. He’s always been better on the field and in battle; the politics had eventually gotten him murdered. 

HuaiSang nods thoughtfully. “Then what do you want to do, big brother?”

“Right now?” he retorts. “Finish the food before it gets cold.” To emphasis his point, he fishes a nice piece of meat from the steaming pot in the center of the table and drops it into HuaiSang’s bowl.

For a moment he wonders if he overstepped. His overbearing manner had not meshed well with HuaiSang’s reluctant nature back then. But today HuaiSang chuckles and picks up his chopsticks.

It’s not an uncomfortable silence as they finish the dishes. A gentle breeze blows in from the window, carrying chatter and the gurgle of running water. Not only has the world changed, Nie MingJue thinks, but he changed, too.

HuaiSang pours them both a cup of liquor. “So, what do you plan?”

Nie MingJue takes a sip and meets his brother’s eyes. “I was thinking of traveling together with XiChen. The way Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian are doing.”

HuaiSang swallows wrong and bursts out coughing. Nie MingJue realizes what he unwittingly implied. He snorts.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” he warns and reaches over the table to give HuaiSang’s hair a playful tug. “You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” HuaiSang challenges, mirth in his eyes. “Owowowow, big brother, I know exactly what you meant, I promise, I promise!”

Nie MingJue releases his hair with a “hmpf”, though HuaiSang remains sprawled on the cushions, giggling. For a moment it’s as if they’re children again and nothing bad ever happened, and Nie MingJue empties his cup before he grows even more sentimental.

“In any case,” he declares as seriously as he can right now, which is not that much since his cheeks remain flushed. Him and XiChen are certainly not like Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian. “That’s what I was thinking. Unless you have another suggestion?”

HuaiSang pushes himself up and accepts the freshly poured cup Nie MingJue pushes at him. “It does sound like a good idea,” he agrees. “I haven’t really … considered the options, either. You know, I’d sometimes dream you were back and then you’d yell at me, take your position back, and make everything alright.”

HuaiSang chuckles ruefully, but Nie MingJue finds his mood sobers. Back in the day - he might have done exactly as HuaiSang says. “I wasn’t very kind to you, then,” he replies and tentatively reaches for HuaiSang’s hand. They both recall the incident that took HuaiSang’s precious collection.

“That was the saber spirit,” HuaiSang replies. “And Jin GuangYao helping it along.”

No scars remain on HuaiSang’s hands. “That doesn’t change what I did,” Nie MingJue returns. If Wei WuXian can shoulder his wrongs, so can he. “I was wrong then, and I know that now. So, no, I’m not going to be sect leader.”

Not after everything you’ve done to earn that title, he adds in silence.

HuaiSang gives him a long look. It’s interesting because Nie MingJue remembers that from their childhood, too. Back before they’d constantly been at odds. Somewhere along the road he’d forgotten the quiet, assessing nature HuaiSang had always possessed.

“... you just don’t want to do the paperwork,” HuaiSang diagnoses.

Nie MingJue grins. There’s an unexpected relief in his chest that his brother doesn’t dispute him; that instead HuaiSang offers a tentative, if unspoken agreement. “Exactly,” he says. “You can write all those fancy correspondences.”

“And you’ll go night hunting?”

“Indeed,” Nie MingJue declares, and slaps the table. “Of course, if you need me, I’ll be back. I’ll probably stick around anyway, it’s going to take a bit for XiChen to make arrangements.”

After all, it’s one thing for a sect leader to go into seclusion. Frolicking off into the sunset, however, would be frowned upon in the most liberal of sects.

“... Lan QiRen is going to murder you.”

After they return, HuaiSang is called away on sect matters and Nie MingJue finds himself wandering, again. Before long he finds himself on the training grounds, saber in hand – and pauses. This saber is nothing like the well-forged things the disciples wield; nothing like Baxia. It barely houses a spirit, and though it’s not skillfully forged, guides spiritual energy quite well.

A decade ago a saber like this would have been utterly inacceptable to Nie MingJue. Today he decides against exchanging it for a better one before his journey. It holds up against the common beasts and ghouls; and neither him nor XiChen want to travel to defeat high-level creatures.

Before long he draws the attention of some disciples nearby, and unwilling to reveal himself, Nie MingJue ends his practice and slips away. Simply wandering, he discovers, is not that bad.

Until suddenly there’s a loud noise, then frantic barking, mixed with shouts and shrill bird calls, joined by thudding and crunches. All emanates from a nearby courtyard. Nie MingJue runs over.

The scene that greets him is not quite what he expected.

Jin Ling has thrown himself over a huge black dog, apparently restraining it from leaping at the already damaged birdcage housing his HuaiSang’s pet birds. The dog wags its tail happily, the birds trill angrily, and two familiar boys in Gusu Lan white frantically attempt to keep the birds from escaping.

“Fairy, no! Stop! Fairy!” Jin Ling shouts.

“Ow, ow, owwwww, stop biting me you stupid bird!” Lan JingYi cries, trying to keep one colorful bird from flying away. “Not my face, noooo!”

“JingYi! Go and find help!” Lan SiZhui is trying to hold the cage closed. Considering the construction is taller than him, the effort is commendable but not effective.

“I can’t!” JingYi shouts back. “That bird is - ow! Not my nose, not my nose! Jin Ling, do something!”

“Fairy, stay!”

Fairy - apparently the dog, and Nie MingJue will never say it, but he suppresses a snort at the name - barks cheerfully and makes no attempt to stay put.

Seeing the boys’ struggle, Nie MingJue steps forward. “Allow me,” he says to SiZhui and takes the beam from him. For a moment, all three stare at him.

“SiZhui! Do something!”

Lan SiZhui unfreezes. Thanking Nie MingJue, he turns to help his fellow disciple catch the escaped birds. Not that the spoiled things make an effort at getting away; they probably know they’re being pampered here.

“Ow, you vicious featherbeast, stop pecking my face!” JingYi yells.

“JingYi!”

“Fairy! Bad dog! Stay put, please!”

Nie MingJue is glad the youngsters can’t see his face, because he’s silently laughing.

A loud whistle interrupts the racket. Fairy obediently sits down. Jiang Cheng marches into the courtyard like a thundercloud, and familiar faces follow on his heels. “Jin Ling. Just what on earth are you doing?”

“Sect  Le- er, Chief Cultivator Jiang,” JingYi hurries to greet. “Sect Lea - ow, stop it! I’m going to wring your neck!”

“JingYi!”

“It’s alright. You can let him go.” Nie MingJue catches his brother’s voice, followed by a melodic whistling. The bird leaves JingYi behind with one last shrill chirp, before flying over to settle on HuaiSang’s shoulder and begins to preen angrily.

JingYi glares at it until SiZhui elbows him.

Nie MingJue thinks he really likes these kids.

“It was an accident,” Lin Jing offers an explanation. “When Fairy saw the birds, he wanted to chase them. I apologize, Sect Leader Nie.”

HuaiSang waves it aside. “It’s fine. No harm done. I believe Fairy only wanted to play.”

The dog does look quite friendly despite its size. Currently it wags its tail eagerly. Jin Ling looks contrite and Jiang Cheng angry.

“Why do these murderbirds like you?” JingYi’s voice interrupts, despite obviously being directed at SiZhui only.

Lan SiZhui has one bird perched on his hand and is stroking its feathers with the other. Familiar with HuaiSang’s skittish pets, Nie MingJue can only think he must have an exemplary temperament for the birds to trust him like this.

“If you want to pet them, stay still,” HuaiSang says to Lan JingYi, and Nie MingJue glances over his shoulder to see his brother take the bird from his own shoulder and hand it to the youngster. The feathery creature eyes the boy suspiciously; their encounter just now not peaceful for either party but allows the transfer. “Just don’t make any sudden movements, and he will stay there.”

In the background, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Jin Ling,” he orders sharply, and the yellow-clad boy jumps to his feet.

“Ah, Chief Cultivator Jiang, Young Master Jin, would you mind waiting a moment?” HuaiSang calls out.

Both stop, and HuaiSang disappears into the adjacent chambers for a short moment. When he returns, he is carrying a wooden box and his features look a little more solemn. He does cast a short look toward their audience, but the Lan boys are distracted with the birds, and Nie MingJue supposes he has become part of the architecture.

At least the remaining birds in the cage are wary enough to not try pecking him.

“Forgive my presumption if you do not want this,” HuaiSang says as he holds out the box to Jin Ling. The boy opens it, and though Nie MingJue can’t see what is inside, he sees his eyes widen, and Jiang Cheng’s face harden.

“It is your late uncle’s. On that night I thoughtlessly took it with me.”

“Why are you offering it to Jin Ling now?” Jiang Cheng asks.

HuaiSang lowers his head. “I … I thought about it and thought perhaps Young Master Jin might want to have something to remember his uncle by.”

“Why would I want to remember him? Jin GuangYao was a murderer.” Jin Ling says, but his voice shakes.

“And also someone who raised you,” HuaiSang replies without reproach. Jiang Cheng looks surprised, and Nie MingJue can’t help but feel the same.

“Young Master Jin, please don’t misunderstand. How you choose to remember him is up to you; I merely thought you have more of a right to this item than I do.”

“Then why did you take it?” Jiang Cheng inquires.

“Because a long time ago Jin GuangYao had also been someone very dear to me.” At HuaiSang’s words, Jiang Cheng exhales. So doe Nie MingJue.

Understanding flashes over Jin Ling’s face and he reaches for the box. His hands tremble, and Nie MingJue thinks he can’t begrudge him those tears. Not when he himself knows just how kind Jin GuangYao could be; and perhaps it had not all been an act.

“Jin Ling? Are you crying?” Lan JingYi calls over, disrupting the atmosphere.

“JingYi!”

“I’m not crying!” Jin Ling shouts, but the hand over his face is not convincing.

“But you’re - ow, ow! Bloody bird, stop!” JingYi’s sudden movement disrupted the bird, too.

Jin Ling wipes at his face. “Go for his eyes!”

“Jin Ling!”

After another instance of pandemonium, the situation has been wrestled under control in perhaps a slightly more dramatic fashion than necessary. Lan JingYi, in his quest to escape a particularly ill-tempered bird, had stumbled and been about to hit his head on a stone figure. Nie MingJue, naturally, had reached out to stop him.

In that instant he’d released the bird cage he’d been holding together, and the birds had cheerfully taken their chance to explore the outside. Next Fairy had leapt into the fray and at the end everybody had twigs in their hair. Much to HuaiSang’s consternation, one of his birds took a likening to Jiang Cheng’s topknot.

“I’m sorry,” says HuaiSang when the bird bites his fingers at the third attempt to remove it.

Jiang Cheng exhales. “Forget about it.” The bird on his head looks smug.

Fortunately, the pandemonium also attracted curious disciples and household staff, so the task of repairing the birdcage can be delegated.

“How come the birds didn’t attack you, Senior Hui?” Lan JingYi asks, and the resulting pause surprises him.

“Actually…” HuaiSang begins, and then the truth is out. The boys formally meet Nie MingJue, and Lan JingYi’s eyes lighten up. “Did you know, Senior Wei and Sect Leader Lan recognized your body by looking at your chest alone?!” he exclaims. “Can you teach me?”

“JingYi!” Several people exclaim at once, and it’s up to choice whether they are more outraged at JingYi’s admiration of a fierce corpse that could have killed him, his rather impolite reference to a present person’s dead body, or the ambition of potentially becoming a fierce corpse himself.

“I don’t think my cultivation style is for you,” Nie MingJue replies after a moment where he must wrap his mind around the fact that somehow people had been able to recognize him by his chest alone. Lan XiChen, he understands.

Wei WuXian, however… (Much later he learns it was due to his peculiar fighting style. Not his bare chest. Which is a relief, because he doesn’t want to be murdered by Lan WangJi). 

Lan JingYi does look acutely disappointed, but before Nie MingJue succumbs to that old weakness, HuaiSang speaks up. “Mentioning cultivation styles, the matter of Wei WuXian’s manuscript ought to be addressed.”

Jiang Cheng crosses his arms and nods. That decided, they call on Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi to discuss the matter in more depth. As the sun has fully set and the air grows chilly, the group retires to an adjacent reception room.

As they arrive, it’s difficult to miss that badly hidden bruise forming on the side of Wei WuXian’s neck. The glow to Lan WangJi is more difficult to spot, but Nie MingJue has been familiar with his brother. He can tell.

Really. The last time he’d been alive, things hadn’t been like this, had they? Except - he can’t deny it’s not nice. There’s less tension in the air, and their discussion is lighter than the issue perhaps requires. Lan JingYi keeps making inappropriate comments (“What if a country bumpkin summoned Wen Mao?”), Wei WuXian inappropriate advances at Lan Zhan (which are returned). Jin Ling fiercely declares his intent to singlehandedly settle the matter after learning it occurred somewhat close to Lanling, while Lan SiZhui advises caution. He’s got a bright head, that boy, Nie MingJue thinks.

Jiang Cheng’s hair eventually escapes from his topknot and the bird crows in victory, a purple ribbon in its beak. HuaiSang laughs quietly, half of his face hidden behind a fan. The box holding Jin GuangYao’s cap sits at the side, and Nie MingJue can’t help but wonder if he’s still with them, in a way.

Not the treacherous person he’d become, but the kindly, hopeful boy he’d once been.

They’re only missing Lan XiChen, he thinks, when after a knock the door opens, and the older Lan brother pokes his head in and freezes. Then he smiles. “Ah, WangJi, there you are. And hello everyone.”

“ZeWu-Jun!” The juniors exclaim with excitement.

“Mind if I join you?” Lan XiChen asks, and before anyone can reply, the bird on Jiang Cheng's head chirps a warm welcome.

His smile restored, Lan XiChen crosses the room to sit next to Nie MingJue. Neither Wei WuXian nor HuaiSang miss it, but the former grins at Lan WangJi whereas the latter winks at Nie MingJue over his fan.

Before long, somebody calls for liquor. They move past the matter at hand, speak of the watchtowers and joint patrols, but also of ridiculous moments (Lan XiChen laughs so hard he nearly ends up in Nie MingJue’s lap when Wei WuXian tells about Lan WangJi’s attempts at being a delinquent. Lan JingYi’s only comment is “I can’t believe nobody saw you!”) and fond memories. It’s not that the past has vanished, or that all wounds have healed, Nie MingJue knows that.

But seeing Wei WuXian and Jiang Cheng complete each other’s sentences with HuaiSang chiming in, while Lan XiChen leans against his shoulder, and the three juniors attempting to have a drinking competition, Nie MingJue can’t help but think that it’s not necessary. They’ll always carry their pasts and their scars. But if there’s a future to look forward to, these burdens don’t seem that heavy.

The following morning, Jin Ling, Lan JingYi and Lan SiZhui, as well as Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian depart early. They will hunt down Wei WuXian’s lost manuscripts and whatever trouble they come across on the way.

Lan XiChen and Jiang Cheng will stay in Qinghe a little longer. The latter to familiarize himself with the requirements of his new office (HuaiSang’s records are far more detailed than those in Lanling at this point), the former to prepare for a journey of his own. Nie MingJue won’t deny a spark of excitement in his heart.

Here they are, after all these years. After all those bitter losses, the desperation and hopelessness, grief and death. Yet somehow at this point these have all become things of the past.

A sharp breeze blows into their faces as they watch the group depart on their swords. The sky is a pearly blue, dotted by fluffy white clouds between snow-capped mountains. Below lie bustling streets and lush forests, and Nie MingJue who had never truly had a chance to care for these things, can’t help but smile.

Soon he and Lan XiChen will set out on their own journey and it will be as if they are young again. There are no pressing responsibilities; all old grievances have been put to rest, and those close to their hearts thrive.

For the first time in far longer than a decade, the world ahead is full of possibilities and hope.

 The End