Chapter Text
Being a fierce corpse was not at all what Nie Mingjue thought it would be.
He flexed his stiffening fingers.
Aside from the fact that his body didn’t move with the same ease, his strength had nearly tripled and he wasn’t able to get hurt.
He was able to fight endlessly without tiring, which was pretty cool. He stretched his arm above his head, testing his range of motion.
There was a soft plop from his side and he looked down with a grimace and picked up his arm. Of course. Being a fierce corpse might be okay except for the fact that his body parts didn’t always stay in place.
Nie Mingjue made his way towards the medical building.
The only other fierce corpse around, the Ghost General Wen Ning, was speaking softly to a Gusu Lan healer. A disciple.
Apparently, the sudden influx of sentient fierce corpses had meant there was a need for them to stay somewhere. Preferably under supervision.
The Lan Sect had been nominated to be the fierce corpse babysitters because of their connection with the former Yiling Patriarch.
It wasn’t so bad. Mingjue had settled in Qinghe for a bit, but the sect had changed under his brother’s leadership and he just didn’t fit in there anymore.
At least the fierce corpses didn’t have to abide by the stupid rules, and he could see Xichen.
(If he was actually brave enough to seek his friend out)
At Mingjue’s heavy footfalls, the pair looked up.
He could immediately see the way Wen Ning folded in on himself.
The disciple looked concerned, glancing at Nie Mingjue with a mix of defensiveness and fear.
“Chifeng-zun,” Wen Ning greeted softly, timidly.
Mingjue almost snorted at his diffident demeanor.
He held up his detached arm and watched Wen Ning’s eyes struggle to go wide in understanding.
He was startled when the smaller corpse carefully took his wrist and settled him into a chair.
The chains clanked.
“A-Xiao,” Wen Ning called to the disciple, “could you please bring me a needle and level three spirit binding thread?”
“Of course, Ning-qianbei!” the disciple from earlier bounded off. But not before leveling a dark look at Mingjue.
He turned his attention to Wen Ning as the disciple returned. The boy hovered behind Wen Ning like a guardian, shooting wary looks at Mingjue.
Mingjue ignored them. Apparently the Ghost General was quite popular with the younger crowd. Who would have guessed?
He watched the shorter man carefully make each stitch, his gentle features intent.
He had never had much interaction with the Ghost General. He had fought him before, when he had been alive, and had been amazed at the sheer strength the other possessed. He had also, apparently, fought him while dead and put a very large hole in his chest.
Back when he was alive, he had believed the Ghost General to be a monster. A violent killing machine.
Instead the Ghost General was timid and soft-spoken. The violent killing machine was more like an easily startled rabbit.
The reality had shocked him.
Wen Ning glanced up at him before glancing back down hurriedly when their gazes met.
That was another thing about him.
He absolutely refused to make eye contact with Mingjue.
The former sect leader had seen the timid man make eye contact with nearly everyone else, so it wasn’t just him being timid.
While alive, Nie Mingjue was aware that people thought he was more brawn than brain. Sure he enjoyed fighting, but he was also capable of being observant. He was a sect leader after all.
So he had put his observation skills to use now.
Which is how he had come to the conclusion that Wen Ning treated him very differently than he did everyone else.
Wen Ning regarded him with a nervousness that, had he been alive, would have had him shaking in fear.
Sure, he had put a hole through the guy’s sternum at one point, but he hadn’t been totally with it.
“All done,” the low voice reached his ears, pulling him from his thoughts, “those stitches should hold better, the thread is thicker”
Wen Ning moved to leave but Mingjue grabbed his wrist.
As a fierce corpse, Mingjue’s strength was unrivaled even by Wen Ning, so it was an easy matter to trap him.
If Wen Ning could pale he would have. As it was, he shifted anxiously from foot to foot with his head bowed and face hidden by his hair.
Unsure why he had done that, but not willing to back down, Mingjue fixed his stare on the timid corpse.
“You were a medic while alive right?”
“Well...my sister was. I helped, but I wasn’t very good at it”
Sister.
The Wen woman they had burned alive.
As much as he had hated the Wens, seeing a woman burned alive had been horrific. He had disagreed with that course of action.
She hadn’t made a sound as the flames swallowed her.
“I wasn’t good at much,” his voice was soft.
Nie Mingjue studied him. He felt a pang of guilt. Being dead changed his perspective on a lot. Without the haze of anger brought on by his qi, he was able to think clearly. Killing the Wens at the Burial Mounds had been an unnecessary and cruel thing to do. Forcing Wen Ning to watch while they killed his sister was another. Then to be held captive by the Jins...
Yeah. They could’ve done better.
“You do a fine job reattaching my limbs,” Mingjue patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. Wen Ning staggered under the touch.
“Thank you,” he stared at the ground. Nie Mingjue found himself fascinated by the long lashes that swept colorless cheeks.
An awkward silence settled over them before Mingjue released his wrist.
“Well.” he frowned, “thank you”
“You’re welcome,” came the soft response.
Nie Mingjue fled the room with as much dignity as he could.
After that, Mingjue had taken to observing Wen Ning more than before.
The shorter corpse seemed to be close to the kids that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji seemed to have accumulated.
The two Lans, an Ouyang, and a Jin followed him around like ducklings.
The sight of the fearsome Ghost General playing babysitter was one that would have made Mingjue laugh if he was capable of producing anything more than a strange grating noise.
Wen Ning doted on them, particularly the more Lanlike Lan boy.
Sizhui, Mingjue thought.
The Jin boy surprised him since Wen Ning had killed his parents.
He supposed if the boy could forgive Wei Wuxian, he could forgive Wen Ning. Now that Mingjue knew what it was like to be a mindless fierce corpse, he had an understanding of why Wen Ning had done what he had done.
There were a lot of things he was discovering about the Ghost General.
Like now.
Now, Nie Mingjue stared at the Ghost General, terrifying monster of legend, slayer of hundreds, loyal attack dog of the equally feared Yiling Patriarch, sitting quietly on the grass surrounded by bunnies.
The younger corpse’s posture was relaxed. A far cry from the perpetual tension in his shoulders.
The first thought that flickered through Mingjue’s head was “cute”.
He supposed the smaller male was much like a rabbit himself; shy, jumpy and hid whenever there were too many people.
Mingjue took a step and Wen Ning stiffened. The bunny on his lap startled.
Once he saw who it was, Wen Ning settled slightly.
At Mingjue’s heavy approach, the rabbits scattered. He dropped down next to Wen Ning with a heavy thump.
He still wasn’t quite used to just how heavy his body had become.
Disappointment flickered across Wen Ning’s face as the rabbits fled.
“Why do you still wear these?” Mingjue tugged the chains.
Wen Ning fidgeted.
“A reminder,” he said. “A reminder of where I came from”
Slowly, the rabbits had returned and Wen Ning’s posture was content once again.
“Do you ever get used to it?” Mingjue asked, holding out a dead hand to a large rabbit.
It bit him but he didn’t feel pain.
“It takes time to come to terms with being a corpse,” Wen Ning said slowly. “I don’t know if you ever get truly used to it”
“Do you hate me?” Nie Mingjue asked suddenly, approaching what had been bothering him directly.
Wen Ning blinked slowly.
“Chifeng-zun,” he looked at the ground, tangled hair hiding his face. “I was under the impression it was you who hated me”
“No,” Mingjue is incapable of shaking his head. “I don’t. I might have once. But death has a way of changing one’s perspective”
Wen Ning nodded.
“For the record, I don’t hate you either”
Something about the words made a peculiar warm feeling bloom in Mingjue’s rotting chest cavity.
If anyone had told him he would one day be a fierce corpse sitting in a field with the Ghost General and surrounded by bunnies, he probably would’ve run them through with Baxia.
He poked at another rabbit, ignoring the exasperated glance Wen Ning shot him when he got bit again.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad.