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Wei Wuxian was pretty darn pleased with himself. In only eight years, he had cultivated Mo Xuanyu's baby bird core into a dominating bird of prey.
It had taken countless hours of sword training, and meditation, and lot of qi manipulation – not to mention the everyday dual cultivation he and Lan Wangji got up to – but it had paid off.
Now Wei Wuxian could keep up with Lan Wangji, and Lan Xichen, and even Jiang Cheng with Wei Wuxian's original core. He could sword fight with the best of them. His talismans were more powerful than ever. And though he still knew demonic cultivation, he rarely needed to use it because his own spiritual energy could handle most situations.
Lan Wangji had assured him that it didn't matter how long it took him to cultivate his golden core, but Wei Wuxian was determined. He did not want to age too far above Lan Wangji's perceived age. If his husband looked to be thirty, Wei Wuxian had to slow his own aging enough to match him. He was thirty-two, but he thought he might just have managed it.
While Wei Wuxian had been focused on personal cultivation, he and Lan Wangji had not gone on many night hunts. As His Excellency, Lan Wangji's time was taken up solving inter-sect disputes and hosting cultivation conferences. Wei Wuxian accompanied the Junior disciples on a few hunts, and even took up teaching during disciple exchanges.
The stronger Wei Wuxian's core became, the more hunts he went on, the bolder he became. He took on demons and monsters in groups and ghosts on his own. The people of Gusu became used to the sight of him and even requested his help with problems they were facing, rather than the other, older disciples of the Lan sect.
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"There are visitors at the gate. They are requesting assistance with a ghoul from the distinguished cultivator Wei Wuxian," the Lan disciple said, bowing to His Excellency and his husband.
"Did you hear that?" Wei Wuxian asked, nudging an elbow into Lan Wangji's side. "Your once reviled husband is now a distinguished cultivator."
"Mm." Lan Wangji nodded. "If you wish to help them, you may."
Wei Wuxian put his hands behind his back and pretended to consider it, leaning this way and that and pursing his lips in thought, while the messenger disciple waited silently. "Hmm…I'll do it," Wei Wuxian agreed after a time. He grinned. "There's nothing on my schedule tomorrow. I'll fly out first thing."
"You need to meet with the visitors to get the details of the hunt," Lan Wangji reminded him.
Wei Wuxian laughed. "Right right!" He motioned to the disciple before them. "Lead the way."
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Over time, Lan Wangji began to delegate the duties of His Excellency to other cultivators. He worked to dissolve the position of His Excellency entirely, setting up a council that would work together for the good of the cultivation world instead. The first few years of the council's creation, Lan Wangji was part of it. He reminded them of the oath they had taken when joining the council, of the laws that governed the council and the cultivation world itself, of their purpose as cultivators.
Then he stepped down and let the cultivation council continue without him. Free of those duties, he could now follow Wei Wuxian on hunts, and they travelled around the country more often. One thing had changed, though, since the last time they journeyed together.
"Haha! Lan Zhan! I think I'm stronger than you now!" Wei Wuxian teased.
They had encountered a small group of fierce corpses in the forest. After a few minutes, Wei Wuxian had noticed a fierce corpse coming up behind Lan Wangji, unnoticed. For the first time in a long while, Wei Wuxian had gotten to be the one saving his husband's life, rather than the other way around.
He poked Lan Wangji in the cheek and grinned. "You're out of practice, Your Excellency."
The frown on Lan Wangji's face spoke of his consternation at his weakened state. It was such an unusual expression, and so adorable that Wei Wuxian could not help but wrap him up in a hug.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll protect my husband until he is big and strong again."
The affection lessened Lan Wangji's severe expression and he wrapped his arms around Wei Wuxian as well. "Mm. My husband is strong enough for both of us."
And that was even more adorable, so Wei Wuxian just had to smother Lan Wangji in kisses.
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It was a monster that ended Wei Wuxian's world.
A pack of dhole had been poached the month before, and only parts of the bodies had been taken for sale. The rest were left to rot in the forest. The eldest dhole of the pack had been the last to die, and its resentment over the illegal hunting had turned it into a large monster version of itself.
The resentful energy flowing from the dhole was so strong that Wei Wuxian had not even needed his compass to find it. It sang in his ears like the Lan sect spiritual tools. That level of energy also meant it was incredibly strong. Even with Suibian and Bichen, Chengqing and Wangji, it was difficult to subdue the monster. Wei Wuxian had to distract it from attacking Lan Wangji multiple times when it proved too fast for Lan Wangji to deflect on his own.
Finally, through a combination of spiritually powered songs, the dhole was subdued. Its resentment was cleansed, and its spirit was able to move on. It had taken over an hour.
Wei Wuxian put Chengqing away and turned to commiserate the difficulty of the hunt with his husband, only to find Lan Wangji collapsed over his guqin.
"Lan Zhan!" He rushed over and lifted Lan Wangji, revealing the blood that had begun to drip from his eyes, nose, and mouth. "You have no spiritual energy? What happened?"
Weakly, Lan Wangji reached up to touch Wei Wuxian's stomach, just above his lower dantian. The fingers trailed down, until the feeling of Wei Wuxian's core made him stop. It was a motion Lan Wangji had done countless times over the years, every time they had sex. Wei Wuxian had never thought about the act before, but now, without the mingling of their energies and the fervor of their lovemaking to distract him, he felt it.
Spiritual energy slipping from Lan Wangji's fingers and directly into Wei Wuxian's core.
Tears sprang to his eyes and he smacked Lan Wangji's hand away. "Lan Zhan! You've been giving it to me? All this time?"
Too weak to speak, Lan Wangji merely nodded. The blood was still dripping, now from his ears as well. He had done too much. He had given Wei Wuxian too much of himself. The fight against the dhole had taken everything he had left.
Wei Wuxian clutched Lan Wangji tight to himself and willed some of his own spiritual energy into him. It didn't feel like it was working. "You fool. You absolute fool!" His tears flowed, dropping from his chin onto Lan Wangji's face and mingling with the blood there.
If they had been nearer to a sect—any sect—this would not have been so awful. There would have been a chance—there would have been hope. But they were in the middle of a forest, far from any cultivation sect large or small. They were alone, and there was nothing Wei Wuxian could do. He was pouring out energy, but Lan Wangji's body wouldn't take it.
"Wei Ying is worth it," Lan Wangji whispered into the cloth of Wei Wuxian's robes. "Wei Ying is worth this."
Wei Wuxian shook his head. "Lan Zhan, no. I know I went on and on about my core, but this isn't what I meant. I don't want to live forever, Lan Zhan. I want to live forever with you." This close together, he could feel Lan Wangji slipping away. "Don't leave me, Lan Zhan!"
But words could not stop flow of blood. Wei Wuxian could have emptied himself of energy and nothing would change. Lan Wangji had already stopped breathing.
The tears lasted for a lifetime. Wei Wuxian's arms grew stiff, his body ached. He needed food and drink but did not move. He would not rise from the forest floor for a long, long time. Long after the body in his embrace went cold.
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As far as the cultivation world knew, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian just disappeared. They left to be wandering cultivators together, and for a short time they were spotted here and there around the country, helping the common people. Then even that stopped.
No one thought they had died. They were Hanguang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch. They were far too powerful for that.
No, the rumor that persisted was that either they retired somewhere far away and became farmers, or else ascended a mountain like Baoshan Sanren and had attained immortality, never to be seen by the eyes of mortal men again.
The only one who knew the truth was Lan Sizhui. By then he was the head of the Lan sect, as Lan Xichen had stepped down permanently from the position. The message came by raven. The paper it was written on was tear stained and the handwriting was so shaky as to be nearly illegible, but the message still came through.
Lan Sizhui went into seclusion for a month to mourn. For the rest of his life, Lan Sizhui would converse with his father only through rare letters delivered by black birds. The month of mourning was for Hanguang-Jun. For his living father, Lan Sizhui wore white robes from then on.
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Years passed. Wei Wuxian kept to himself, away from the rest of the world. He found a hidden grove in the mountains and built a small house for himself there. He started farming, just like he once imagined he would do with Lan Wangji when they retired.
He cultivated. The core he had inherited from Mo Xuanyu, had worked to strengthen on his own, that he had been gifted by Lan Wangji—he perfected it. Away from the trials of normal people, and the politics of the cultivation sects, Wei Wuxian attained immortality.
He had to. There was no other option. After being resurrected the way he had, Wei Wuxian honestly did not know if his soul could be reincarnated. If there was any chance of seeing Lan Wangji again in this world, he had to stay alive.
So for hundreds of years, Wei Wuxian focused on his core, and his memories, in the hope of one day being reunited with his soulmate.
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The world changed. The cultivation sects that had once made all the rules declined in power, and the common people rose. Kings took the place of the Cultivation Council. Then, after a time, elected rulers replaced the monarchy.
In all the hustle and bustle of time and innovation, a small gallery appeared. At first it held only a guqin, a dizi, and a few books of music, but over the years it grew into a larger establishment that housed hundreds of examples of old instruments and sheet music that had otherwise been lost to time.
It was the Wei-Lan Institute. In an era where cultivation was a niche interest and not a country-wide culture anymore, the Institute became the premier destination for anyone wishing to learn about music-based cultivation techniques. As far as the current workers and visitors were concerned, the Wei-Lan Institute had been around forever.
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Wei Wuxian had perfected his 'reclusive-old-man' routine. He had a big, bushy beard and thick, stick-on eyebrows, and wore robes with so many layers that even Lan Wangji would shudder. He pretended he did not know how to use a phone properly, but he could manage a passable email. His home address was somewhere vaguely in the direction of whatever mountain was currently in view. He liked seeing how flustered people got trying to work with him when he was old.
As a young man of thirty-two, Wei Wuxian was a descendant of the original Wei founder of the Wei-Lan Institute and worked as a curator there. He monitored each of the exhibits and the archives and was the final authority—other than his old man self, of course—on any decisions made regarding the Institute or its items. If someone called ahead, he would even give them a personal tour and explain anything they had questions about.
Sometimes he had to pretend to go on a trip and then never come back, and work as his old man self for a while, before people got suspicious about his age. During those times, he would don a disguise so he could visit the Institute frequently—especially the room that held Wangji and Chenqing. They were always housed together, no matter how many buildings the Institute moved into or out of, or how the Institute was rearranged. That was one of old-man-Wei's constant stipulations.
Wei Wuxian often visited the Wei-Lan Institute while it was closed, sitting by the reflection pond in the central courtyard that had been built with the last upgrade, and played a dizi. Sometimes it was Chenqing—pulled from her case and played with gentle care—but sometimes it was not. His music always sounded better with his original flute, however, and Chenqing always gave a thrill when he picked her up, happy to be used again.
In recent years, playing Chenqing had felt different. It was like she was playing for someone, and not just a memory. It was the way she used to feel when Wei Wuxian played duets with Lan Wangji.
For the first time in centuries, Wei Wuxian's heart filled with hope.
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The request had come via email, as many did, for a personal tour of the Institute.
They had managed, over the course of many years, to cultivate a weak golden core. Though they had no real interest in fighting monsters with a sword, the idea of fighting through music appealed to them. They even knew a song or two for the purpose. However, there were very few places that taught musical cultivation or had any useful information for self-study. The Wei-Lan Institute was well known for their collection and the seminars they offered. The student especially wanted to look at the Institute's archives of cultivation songs, but anything they could offer was greatly appreciated.
"Are you really a university student?" Wei Wuxian had asked the email, a bemused grin on his face. Then he had replied, accepting the request and asking which date and time to set it for.
Now he stood in the room of Wangji and Chenqing. His personal tours always started there, because preserving those two spiritual tools had been the purpose behind opening the Institute to begin with. And if he talked about them first, he was less likely to be overcome by his memories and forget he was giving a tour in the first place.
"Wei Ying?"
The question was hesitant, as from one stranger to another upon first meeting, and yet Wei Wuxian's heart nearly stuttered to a stop. He knew that voice.
He knew that voice reciting Gusu Lan rules as a teenager. He knew that voice begging him to come back to Gusu, to stop using demonic cultivation, as a young man. He knew that voice saying it would stay by his side along the one-plank bridge. He knew that voice as it said its last goodbye.
Slowly, Wei Wuxian turned around.
The man standing a few feet behind him appeared to be in his early-to-mid-twenties. He had black hair cut to fall just about his ears and eyes that were light and piercing. His face was softer than Lan Wangji's had been, his expression not so sharp, and he was a few inches shorter too. Now Wei Wuxian was the taller of the two of them.
Still, there was no doubt in Wei Wuxian's mind. He could feel it in his core. This was Lan Wangji. It was his soul, finally returned to the world of man. To Wei Wuxian.
"You are Curator Wei?" the young man asked.
Wei Wuxian nodded once, jerkily, then shook himself free of his stupor and nodded several times in quick succession. "Yes. Yup. Yes. That's me. Hello." He stepped forward and offered his hand. "And you are…Mr. Wang Jiang?"
Oh, even their names were similar. Wei Wuxian's heart couldn't take it.
Lan Wangji—Wang Jiang—nodded and accepted the handshake. "Thank you for agreeing to see me." He frowned, and the expression was so familiar even on this new face that Wei Wuxian nearly began to cry. "I've had a song in my head for as long as I can remember. I'm sure it has something to do with cultivation, but no one can tell me anything about it."
Fighting back the tears, Wei Wuxian gave his best smile. "Well, we'll see what I can do." He let out a quiet breath, and it felt like centuries of calcification and dust fell from his soul. "It's wonderful to meet you."
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fin