Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Part 1: First Encounters

“People are so complicated.”

Cool evening air tumbled through the open window within the Jingshi. Beads of tension emerged from between his brows as Wei Wuxian closed his eyes in concentration.

Malignant energy poured forth from the steel blade. Chenqing’s pleasant pitches clashed with the ominous aura emitting from the dagger. Black waves of murdered spiritual essences conjugated into a riotous mass.

How many spirit pieces were there? Over a hundred, at least.

Vengeful and Restless. Gusu Lan’s Calming Soul Melody soothed the heft of malefic phantoms until the final dregs could be contained.

Ash from the incense timer shifted from it's stem and fell to the bottom of it’s holder. The resentful energy stagnated and then flowed back into the weapon. It was contained. For now. With a sigh of relief, Wei Wuxian tucked Chenqing back in his belt.

He sat cross-legged before a low wooden table in the Jingshi. Taking the spot of the incense burner from a few nights ago, was the familiar blade he had seen in A-Qing’s Empathy.

Xue Yang’s dagger.

The Juniors had pressed for an explanation of what he had seen in Empathy. They were also witness to Xue Yang's dying form holding onto a piece of candy, not realizing the significance of it until the Senior relayed the events he witnessed. The candy been given to Xue Yang by Xiao Xingchen. The boy had kept it for eight years until it was rotten, black, and inedible.

How young Xiao Xingchen appeared in that coffin, lined with blood talismans. Blood from Xue Yang.

His fingers drummed along his shin along to the melody he had played. He stared at the decorative blade a while longer. His eyes dipped into the curved vines and embossed filigree facets.

In Yi City, he left the disposal of Xue Yang’s body to his nephew. With the sentimental Ouyang Zizhen’s influence on his friend and with consideration for Young Master Mo, Jin Ling did not feed the body, in pieces, to Fairy.

“Foul Meat like that will probably upset her stomach.”

Before cremation, they searched the body and found the blade. It was a gift from the Lanling Jin Sect given at the onset for when Xue Chengmei was a guest cultivator. The gift was most likely arranged by Jin Guangyao, but of course Jin Guangshan took credit. p>

Wei Wuxian unsheathed it in one quick movement. A chill went through his body, reminding him of another moment, another time, when someone else took their own life with a dagger. Qin Su.

The Lanling Jin Sect should stop possessing daggers.

Jin Ling thought it best to send the blade to him to repress the resentment energy. Jin Sect Cultivators had done fine enough until now to keep the blade’s energy in check. But Jin Ling’s position as Sect Leader was still precarious.

His suspicion at the rest of Koi Tower inhabitants vying for power wasn’t unfounded. Schemes to overthrow the inexperienced youth teemed at every crevice within the palatial residence. Radiating with sumptuous grandeur but rotting underneath.

Jin Guangyao had also been the primary designer for the dagger. Jin Ling had two primary reservations about destroying it. Melting it down might not rid the blade of it’s resentful energy. The second reason he was less vocal about, but Wei Wuxian suspected a lingering attachment to his deceased uncle.

***

He accepted the blade from Jin Ling on their last Night Hunt. He had not told HanGuang Jun yet. He was too busy trying to manage the affairs as Sect Leader in lieu of his brother’s seclusion.

Wei Wuxian accepted his Nephew’s request with such enthusiastic aplomb that Jin Ling, who had been glad to rid of the blade, not physically but responsibility wise, took the blade back from his Uncle and said, “Nevermind.”

A knowing smile from his Uncle made the boy relent and toss it back. In the past few months since the tribulation at Guanyin Temple, Jin Ling now stood a few cun taller than before, nearing his uncle’s height. Not only had he grown in length, but maturity as well. The well-being of thousands within Lanling rested on his slender shoulders. If Wei Wuxian could take some of the weight off those shoulders, he would gladly do so. He insisted on taking the dagger.

“It’ll keep me busy, so I can stay out of trouble with the Lan Sect.”

Jin Ling’s earlier reluctance dissipated into a sullen frown. Fairy nipped at his shins. He adjusted the quiver on his back and then leaned down to scratch the husky’s ears. Wei Wuxian noted the solemnity in which he smoothed out the dog’s fur and the tacit pats along the curved spine.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“To ask you to do this.”

Wei Wuxian leaned in forward and teased him. “Jiang Cheng scolded you again didn’t he? That’s why you don’t dare ask for anything. Don't let it bother you. He is him. I am ME. We are not the same.”

“It’s not that. I've just been thinking about family lately.”

He looked at the blade a final time and departed. Lanling Jin Sect, under his management, became busier. It would be some time before Wei Wuxian saw him again.

It was then that he remembered that Fairy had been a gift from Jin Guangyao as well. The faithful pet trailed after the boy eagerly, keeping in step with him as it always had. Perhaps as Lianfang Zun had intended.

***

Wei Wuxian sealed the blade into a Qiankun Pouch. He dusted off his pants and yawned. He pushed the neatly folded bedding aside and plopped himself down on the plain bed. With ease, he kicked off his boots and pulled the blanket half over his chest.

The wooden bed’s canopy curtains shifted softly as he closed his eyes. Just a short nap, he promised. Just something to tide him over until Hanguang Jun completed his work and they could be together again. Hushed breezes meandered through the Jingshi and accompanied the rogue cultivator into a meditative repose until he fell completely asleep.

***

Typically, the airy fortress of Cloud Recesses supplied the setting for his dreams. This was not the mountainous compound. In fact, he could tell at a glance, this was not Gusu at all. The full moon hung overhead. Full and white. Beneath the pitch-black heavens, the tops of curved man-made constructions peppered the landscape.

Tall, elaborate buildings with gold gilding stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Lit Lanterns gave a low illumination to the squashed, cramped urban streets.

Strange, he thought.

Wei Wuxian turned around in the darkness. This didn’t look like Hanguang Jun’s dreamscape either. He looked at his hands. They were his original. A commotion up ahead drew his attention and he walked towards it.

A local vendor was crouching down in fear behind a trashed stall. Candied haws littered the floor. One rolled to Wei Wuxian’s shoe. Castoff of the stall broken in by the boy’s boot littered the ground. Cracked dishes and skewers scattered in all directions.

Three familiar figures loomed in front of the destroyed stall. Jin Guangyao had stepped in between a Cultivator in black robes and a slighter figure in golden robes similar to his own.

Song Lan and Xue Yang?

Xue Yang had attacked a vendor and Song Lan acted to redress the issue. A petty reason, Wei Wuxian glanced at the trembling clerk. What should have been a minor dispute that could have been resolved with reason turned into a murderous assault.

Jin Guangyao mediated a truce. A purple bruise showed under his askew hat. His expression was immaculate. You could never fault him. His manners were truly astounding.

Another individual came. This one, also familiar, intimately so. His Shishu. How young he looked. Even younger than Yi City. Wei Wuxian shook his head. Of course he would be younger looking here. He was younger. He edged closer to his Shishu, a mere chi from his face. His mother’s younger Martial brother was indeed handsome. And he had his eyes! How well they matched!

He peered at Song Lan and admired the lighter shade of brown of those original eyes. He barely had a moment to observe any longer because the Daoist turned suddenly. The glacial frost aligning in his direction. For a moment, he thought the cultivator had seen him. No, they were leaving.

He tried to follow them, but his feet allowed him to do so for a few meters. His steps froze. He turned back to see Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang parting. Just to see, he tried to follow Jin Guangyao, but again, managed a few steps. He groaned loudly. His arms slumped by his sides in resignation.

“Damn! Just damn.” He stomped his feet after the Sparks amidst Snow robes and not the one he’d have preferred to follow.

***

The financial resources of the Lanling Jin Sect staggered the imagination, so naturally the Corpse Training Field was immense.

The Corpse Field, though called such, resembled a small city. It was on the outskirts of Lanling. An isolated enclosure. It reminded him of the battlefields during the Sunshot Campaign. Dark, decrepit structures teemed with demonic talismans and dark magical arrays. A hellish realm suited the other demonic cultivator well.

Wei Wuxian ran a finger beneath a yellow talisman. Blood? Of course. Whose? It didn’t matter. There was several hundred corpses that his eyes could see. It could have been from any one of them.

Xue Yang slumped down in a chair. His arm over the table with two teacups resting on it's dingy, rough surface. At the center of the liquid was a maroon, cylindrical object. Wei Wuxian peered for a closer look.

Ack, a tongue.

He placed a forefinger to massage his temple. Once the headache eased, he leaned back in his chair. The lines in Xue Yang’s childish face deepened causing sharp shadows to distort the childish features.

Murder, dismemberment, fierce corpses.

If he wasn’t so sure of his own self being stuffed in the chair across from the other demonic cultivator, this could have passed for his own work at Burial Mounds.

The boy snapped his fingers and two corpses attacked one another. Scratching, gouging, punching, gnawing. Xue Yang’s eyes narrowed. The forefinger and thumb of his right hand twitched.

He took his cup and threw it. It smashed into pieces after colliding with the corpse's head.

Bits embedded in the waxy, rotting flesh. One sharp shard pierced the center of a milky globe. It burst out of the socket and rolled on the ground, peppered with dirt.

A few choice curse words and the spitting of the words ‘Damned Daoists’ and he knew the boy was still fuming from the earlier encounter.

Wei Wuxian grimaced. He knew what was coming. But this wasn’t like Empathy, where he had connection to the person. Second, he and Hanguang Jun were the only ones who shared dreams. Who knew what the ramifications of a third party, especially one that was dead, would invoke?

Dreams had fickle rules. They seemed real, but weren’t. Elements were borrowed from Reality and yet, there was always enough fiction for the dreamer to know it wasn’t fact. Years in one realm equaled to minutes in the other.

Wei Wuxian spent the next few months idly watching Xue Yang secure his position within the Lanling Jin Sect before setting out to massacre the Chang Clan. The small cultivation clan was easy enough to find. He researched ahead of time, infiltrated the sect, and broke their protection array.

Third rate rumors passing as knowledge paled in witnessing the brutality first hand.

Men, women, children, dogs, chickens, birds. Whatever sentient creatures were present, were dispatched with ruthless precision.

The smile, so charming and innocent, was a harbinger of death.

Xue Yang left daring traces of his proud work. However, in spite of all traces, with rumors of the delinquent of Kuizhou being responsible, no one dared take on the case. At the next Cultivation Conference, Chang Ping, pleaded for help among the larger Sects.

Xiao Xingchen, who was invited by the Lanling Jin Sect, volunteered to find justice for him. Jin Guangyao who hosted the event along with his father, narrowed his eyes in Xue Yang’s direction who lingered by the pillars in the back of the room. Xue Yang watched the white-robed Daoist with passive disinterest.

Whatever, he shrugged.

The Cultivation Conference heaped praise and encouragement on the young Daoist.

Bunch of damn hypocrites. Xue Yang turned and left. He’d had enough.

After the meeting, Wei Wuxian followed Xue Yang to the outskirts of Yiling. A young woman, clearly a prostitute, waited for him in a graveyard.

“A-Yang!”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?”

The woman shook her head. The boy wore such a pleasant smile, she felt no fear until he gripped her by the neck and threw her into a gravestone. She stumbled off the bleeding stone, holding her face. The shock of the blow confused her as to where the wounds originated. Her hands reached for her ringing ears instead of her head.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

“I did tell you, didn’t I?”

The woman nodded her head violently. Splashes of blood flung onto the tombstone. Finally finding the source of the wound, she clutched her head and tried to stumble away. Xue Yang snapped his fingers. A fierce corpse appeared at his command and held the woman in a choke hold. The boy unsheathed his dagger and forced the woman’s mouth open.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. He didn’t see the cutting out of her tongue, but he heard it. Gurgling blood gushed over her gaping mouth in thick puddles onto the ground. He heard the boy’s command for her to be taken to the field. There, the woman, Yu-er, as she was affectionately called, was ripped limb from limb and fed to the other corpses.

Two days later, Jin Guangyao asked to see him in Lanling’s Official Study. Xue Yang passed by Jin Guangshan’s other bastard son, Mo Xuanyu, coming out of the room. The young man extended his arms out to formally greet him. His sleeves slipped past his forearms and revealed fresh bruises. No doubt, a courtesy of Madam Jin.

Wei Wuxian gazed at the originator of his current physical body. He had only a moment to gauge the boy’s personality during the sacrifice ritual and by then boy was already mad with vengeance. This was the boy before he had lost all hope. He reached out to touch the bruised arm.

Ointment had just been applied and he could see the small palm-sized jar sticking out from the boy’s belt. The style resembled one that you might find in Qinghe. Mo Xuanyu mumbled a courteous greeting and disappeared down the hall.

Xue Yang entered the study and flipped into in a chair. He sat slovenly with his feet over the wooden arm. The heels of his boots rested on the small table next to it. Jin Guangyao’s head remained firmly fixed on the paperwork before him.

“You did well. My father wants to reward you. What do you want?”

Xue Yang was generally forthright with his requests,. His goal for the death of the Chang Clan was mostly accomplished. He had been persuaded to hold off on killing the rest until the public outrage died down, but he promised them nothing. If suddenly, he had the urge to kill the rest of clan then, he would.

The boy was contemplative. Other than his lifelong revenge, there was little that he required that wasn’t already offered. Also the Lanling Jin Sect’s wealth and influence was only second to that of the Qishan Wen Sect. He wasn’t going to squander a blessing. Jin Guangyao drew his attention to another subject.

“Some days ago, a young woman named Yuan Yu went missing.”

“Not for long. You’ll find the pieces eventually.”

“Do I need to ask why?”

“No, just the usual. She got greedy.”

Xue Yang pointed a finger at his throat and make a click with his tongue against his teeth. The girl had made a promise not to take any more customers. It was not that Xue Yang was particularly fond of the girl or that he was possessive. He understood what she was. Instead he hated being treated as a fool.

Despite the rumors and warnings from others, Yuan Yu treated the 16 year old boy as a regular 16 year old that she was accustomed to servicing. But nothing about Xue Yang was regular or common. Neither his likes or dislikes.

He was always at extremes, the other prostitutes cautioned, and being she did not heed them and continued on her own merry way, playing the part of doting wife and had him involved in playing the part of cuckolded husband, she was gone now, permanently from the earthly realm.

“The reason why I mention this is, you should lay low.” Jin Guangyao’s eyes rose from his paperwork for the first time since he arrived. “Someone is looking into the Chang Massacre.”

“One of those gentlemen of yours?”

“Xiao Xingchen. He is not ours. I had hoped he would accept my father’s invitation to be a guest cultivator at our sect, but he declined. If he had, he might have some reservations at being at odds with us. Something we could have worked with.”

Wei Wuxian could see that Jin Guangyao was likely comparing the Daoist with another man lacking vices. Nie Mingjue. For someone like Guangyao, who was adept at appeasing others by calculating their vices, this type was the most difficult to deal with.

Can you lay low for a bit?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“Easily.” Xue Yang dismissed the concern. Jin Guangyao didn’t look convinced, but accepted the young man’s word. Surprisingly, other than the work at the Corpse Field, regular mistreatment of commoners which included vendor threatening, he did lay low for several weeks.

At the end the month, trouble found him without Xue Yang actively seeking it. Sitting in a private room within the brothel, the demonic cultivator’s fingers tapped on the soft tablecloth with impatience.

Why the hell where they taking so long? A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in already!”

The door opened. Xue Yang’s cheek that had casually lay in the crook of his wrist tilted further. He saw the feet cross the threshold. A flurry of white robes. His eyes rose from the feet to the rest of the unexpected visitor.

“Oh, Daozhang. Welcome.” He replied. “But this room is taken.”

“I’m here to take you to Koi Tower for Justice.”

“Daozhang, this is really unpleasant. I do not know what you’re talking about. But this is really not the place for gentlemen like you.”

“Xue Chengmei, you can walk out of here on your own. Or I can take you out of it. Your choice.”

“Daozhang, you are really so obstinate. I really have no idea what you’re talking about. But I’m walking out on my own. If you want me to go with you, that depends on your ability to do so.”

Xue Yang attempted to throw flying darts at him. The Daoist blocked it with an unsheathed Shuanghua. Wei Wuxian ducked when flying debris came his way.

Why can’t you go quietly! He yelled at Xue Yang.

And Shishu, why did you talk so much, just capture him! You are too soft! You’re going to get hurt if keep going easy on him!

Screams and shouting from outside the room during the fight ensued. An eager crowd formed at the open doorway. Wei Wuxian thought he was safe next to the bed, behind the screen cover. But the screen was cut to pieces, falling onto one side of the bed. The jagged edges jutted out.

Xiao Xingchen fell backwards onto the bed, parrying Jiangzai with Shuanghua with difficulty. A part of the screen’s wooden frame pierced through his Shishu’s shoulder. Xue Yang smiled through gritted teeth, forcing Jiangzai down closer with body weight.

“I was wrong, Daozhang. You DO belong here, but not as a client!” With his foot, he stomped on wounded shoulder.

Wei Wuxian flinched. I told you, you would get hurt. He sat by his Shishu on the bed. The jagged wooden stake pierced straight through his shoulder next to Xue Yang’s foot which continued to apply as much pressure as possible. His tight grip on Shuanghua loosened.

But the Daoist was not to be under-estimated. He had trained under an Immortal Cultivator and his threshold for pain was probably only less then Xue Yang himself. The arm holding Shuanghua’s sheath shot out with power into Xue Yang’s stomach. The Daoist imbued the move with a fair amount of spiritual power behind it. The boy flew back, crashing through the rice paper walls. The spectators dispersed.

Xiao Xingchen slowly slid down off the bed. Holding his shoulder, he stood up. He threw an immortal rope around Xue Yang. It wrapped around his upper body. The Madam of the brothel was horrified at the sight.

“Sir, t-this...”

“I know this might not be enough, but here.” Xiao Xingchen reached into his money bag and gave her all of it’s content. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” He bowed and left the speechless woman.

Xiao Xingchen dragged the boy along at a distance with much difficulty. Xue Yang ranted and cursed the entire way, wailed that he was being framed and wronged, that high-level cultivators like the Daoist only knew to bully others, that he was tired, hungry, sleepy. He talked incessantly. Wei Wuxian wished he could used the Lan Silencing spell on him. Lucky for him, his Shishu knew of an alternative spell.

Xue Yang found himself speaking, but no words came out. Only air. Ah, Wei Wuxian nodded, a spell to control the frequency of someone’s voice. It could either amplify it or lessen the pitch to nothing. Baoshan Sanren’s spell was just as valuable as the Lan Sect. He was impressed.

But Xue Yang continued to talk, even though his words were inaudible. They walked the entire way to Koi Tower in a different kind of silence and other than pausing once for his Shishu to address his injured shoulder, they made the trip overnight.

Xiao Xingchen arrived in his bloodied clothes, appearing as though he were on the brink of collapse. Xue Yang, on the other hand, looked mildly tired and very amused. He looked around in wonderment like a child, experiencing a fascinating trip to an exotic and secret location. He knelt on the ground, a preternatural smile curled at the end of his lips. So sure he was of Jin Guangshan’s greed for the amulet.

In the Grand Reception Hall, the tall figure of Xiao Xingchen, was dwarfed in size. He produced the evidence for the Sect Leaders to consider. All the Sect Leaders agreed with the staggering scale of evidence and demanded justice for the Chang Clan.

“Even though they are a small clan. They are cultivators. If there is no one left to find Justice for them, then there is no Justice in this world.”

Justice? Wei Wuxian scoffed. Where was this concern, when Chang Ping first requested assistance?

Didn’t all the major sects turn their heads away, expecting someone else to take helm. Now that the matter was near resolved, now they wanted to take credit. Wei Wuxian thanked his luck he was already dead by the time of this meeting. He would have probably called upon fierce corpses to feed on all of them immediately.

There was one clan left that did not support this agreement. The Lanling Jin Sect. Jin Guangshan adamantly opposed the severe punishment of death. He argued so intensely and for so long, that the indomitable Chifeng Zun, Nie Mingjue, who did not regularly attend these meetings and was often quiet, burst in rage to the center of the floor, next to the Daoist.

“If you do not sentence him to death, I WILL!” He unsheathed Baxia and nearly decapitated Xue Yang on the spot.

“Da-ge, please, Sect Leader Jin---” Jin Guangyao rushed up to him and tried to get him to put away Baxia.

“Shut up! If you are only a dog in the Jin Sect, you have no place here! If you stand in my way, I will KILL YOU FIRST!”

He turned the saber away from Xue Yang and pointed in his direction. Lan Xichen had also stepped forward. The Sworn brothers stood in a line together, but not on ths same side.

“A-Yao, don’t.” He whispered as the younger man hid behind him. He couldn’t see the unmistakable glint in his eye that flew straight to Xue Yang.

Wei Wuxian sat on the floor with Xue Yang and admired Jin Guangyao’s acting. No one stood a chance against the machinations of his ingenious faculties. He had always believed Lan Xichen was too soft, too naive. But the entire Cultivation World would crumble in this man’s hands.

In the Guanyin Temple, he had some doubts, but that was towards the end of Jin Guangyao’s breaking point where he likely chose not to continue holding up the veneer he had constructed for so long. Here, it was easy to see, how brightly he shone as a faultless young man. Frail. Delicate. In need of protection. Wei Wuxian almost believed it himself. He could no longer begrudge Lan Xichen for the past gullibility.

Baxia’s tip lingered dangerously close to Xue Yang’s forehead.

“FINE! FINE! WE’LL SENTENCE HIM TO DEATH!” Jin Guangshan shouted, startling the entire conference of cultivators. Xue Yang was hauled to his feet. He smiled at Xiao Xingchen and with a voice saturated with saccharine, he whispered to him.

“Daozhang, you won’t forget me. Wait and see.”

Part 2: Betrayal

Wei Wuxian glanced around the luxurious room, with it’s finely threaded sheets and gold tableware. Gold plates lined with fresh fruit and rare delicacies sat in neat rows. Wine.

Lanling Jin Sect Wine! Wei Wuxian reached for it and tried to pour himself some. Ah, come on! It was no use. He simply could not manipulate the ornate pitcher in his hands.

This is completely unfair! I become the bane of the cultivation world, and I had to live on turnips in Burial Grounds and sleep in a cave! If this is jail, put me in it. Lan Zhan and I need to vacation here!

He wanted to throw up. His body hovered over the gold pitcher and wished he were capable of spewing the bile of discontent swirling in his stomach into the container. Then he would force the prisoner to drink it.

Completely unacceptable. When he heard about Xue Yang being sentenced to Life Imprisonment, he didn’t believe Jin Guangshan would enforce it. Which he didn’t, but to allow the boy to live in this type of luxury…

Xue Yang rested in the bed, with his arms behind his head and his one leg propped against the other. Thinking.

That’s dangerous, Wei Wuxian thought.

The Chang Clan was mostly dead. There were some dregs to be taken care of, but the focus of vengeance was diverted to a new target. Xiao Xingchen.

How best to get revenge on the Daoist? He couldn’t best him in a fight. Well, he could, but he’d have to handicap him to make the odds better with the difference in their cultivation levels.

What about not on him, exactly?

The exact moment that he had realized the best method of attack, his eyes brightened and one side of his lips lifted into a smirk. He sat up slowly in the bed, his mind frantic with thoughts on what to accomplish first. His fingers tingled with excitement. Jiangzai was calling to him.

So this was the moment, huh? Wei Wuxian sighed.

A knock on the door to his room forced him to temper his thoughts.

“What is it?”

“It’s me.”

Jin Guangyao opened the door. He studied the boy’s expression. Finding nothing amiss, he stepped in, standing at the table in the center of the room. Wei Wuxian noticed that Xue Yang masked the earlier glee of his planned revenge.

He knew that if anyone was aware, especially Jin Guangyao, the man would make plans to stop him. Not out of kindness for the potential victims, but because of the hassles that would ensue. Hadn’t the Chang Massacre been a clear example?

“Why do you even bother knocking? I’m in prison, aren’t I?”

A thin smile pursed on Jin Guangyao’s ever patient face. “What prison in the world would treat you this well?”

“I see it,” Xue Yang remarked, tossing his feet over the bed. “In your face. What happened? Something good.”

“After pressing the Chang Clan for a fortnight, they have recanted. You are free.”

“What about Nie Mingjue?”

“He is dead.”

A loud cackle erupted from the pit of the boy’s throat. He jumped from the bed in an explosion of vindictive curiosity. “How’d you do it?”

“I have no idea what you mean. Nie Mingjue had a Qi Deviation. He’s not completely dead yet though.”

Xue Yang’s eyes narrowed. “Which is it?”

“Come with me and you’ll understand.”

In a cloak of darkness, in the dead of night, Xue Yang followed Jin Guangyao to the secret chamber within Fragrance Palace. Qin Su had taken a trip with her father at her husband’s urging. If she had declined, he would have drugged her so that he could accomplish what needed to be done.

But she was a loving and obliging wife and did not obstruct his plans in any way. Though it was not so in other ways, Life was generous with his ambitions, providing people to assist him rather hindering or obstructing.

Jin Guangyao unsealed the mirror in his room. As soon as Xue Yang stepped through, he lifted his hand up. A sound barrier. Screaming in madness, the Great Chifeng Zun struggled to free himself from the chains binding him across the neck, waist and feet. Alive. He was a bit disappointed, but when he realized the implications of having him alive, his eyes lit up.

“Use the Amulet.”

Jin Guangyao had already given his sworn brother the powder. Black veins crawled around his neck and his eyes were black. He was already turning, but retained spiritual consciousness. The swears that had tumbled out when they first entered the chamber changed to meaningless growls.

Xue Yang brought out the amulet, drawing upon it’s immense power to subdue Nie Mingjue. He paced back and forth the length of the iron table, trying several times before acknowledging the futility.

“He’s too resentful. I don’t have enough power with just this.” He tucked the amulet back into his sleeve. “What should we do with him?”

Jin Guangyao was in the corner with his back to the both of them. His thumbs were twirling around. His face tilted and he nodded in the direction of the large saber on the shelf.

“Get rid of him.”

Xue Yang’s smile became so wide now, it was almost obscene. He picked up Baxia, admiring the weight, and the irony that almost a year ago, he was at mercy of it’s owner. Instead of the young delinquent’s, it would taste it’s wielder’s blood. He raised the blade high above his head.

Wei Wuxian touched his neck, checking to make sure it was still attached. It was a horrifying experience the first time. He felt less physical shock, but more emotional. Remembering the gritty handiwork of the sown neck within the Guanyin Temple, flashes of Zewu Zun’s aggrieved countenance added to the misery, and an emotion he was surprised to feel.

Anger. Anger for Huaisang. For his grief. And then for Xue Yang. When he came to Lanling, how old was he? 15? Just a boy. Sisi’s words echoed in his mind.

Xue Yang dismembered the body for his friend. Jin Guangyao would handle the rest. Quietly, he rested a tender hand on Nie Mingjue’s forehead.

“Da-ge, Da-ge.” He shook his head softly.

Xue Yang glanced down at his robes, full of blood. He smacked at the splattered residue like it was dust.

“Chengmei.”

An irritated ‘What?’ seceded the Courtesy Name.

“There is a special event tonight. Do you want to go?”

Wei Wuxian leaned down to study the young man’s face. Jin Guangyao continued to apply soft gentle strokes along the furrowed brows, smoothing out the creases before rigor mortis set in, before rising to stand upright.

“What event?”

“My father’s retirement party. I thought about what you said before. I planned the perfect surprise for him. Since you gave me the inspiration, it’s only fitting that I invite you to attend.”

Xue Yang’s smile churned into curiosity. He said a great deal of many things. He was too lazy to remember all of it. Let it be a surprise, then. He changed into fresh clothes.

Together they traveled to a lone house on on the outskirts of Lanling. A pretty sort of house. Beautiful full willows and lush courtyards drowned the quaint abode in complete solitude. Jin Guangyao hinted to him what to expect. Xue Yang, as intelligent as he was, understood immediately.

He waited by the front of house, sitting idly. The mauve curtains billowed in waves where he sat. He tossed his dagger into the air and caught it easily. Bored. The sound of a wagon arrived and he slid off the veranda to greet the ‘Guests of Honor’. Excited giggles chirped from the group of women shuffling to their destination. The woman at the forefront of the flock fell down.

Sisi, Wei Wuxian held his breath. Seeing the excitement drain from her eyes amid her scarred face was heart-breaking. The dagger tapped at her cheek, drawing her back up. At the sight of this boy and his crude manner, the sisters clung to one another. Something was wrong.

The boy sent them in with a bright smile. The women’s glee, now replaced with fear forced their escorts to shove their hesitant feet forward.

Xue Yang stayed outside the house, wandering the courtyard. Of course, Wei Wuxian wandered with him. Since the beginning, after being stuck with what he had deemed the less favorable ‘Sparks amidst Snow’ robes wearer, he felt glad to be stuck with the orphaned boy instead of Jin Guangyao.

Hearing Sisi’s testimony at Lotus Pier was traumatizing enough to imagine, much less seeing it firsthand. But of course, he didn’t feel relief for long. Xue Yang was Xue Yang after all.

A few days later, without Jin Guangyao’s permission, the boy left Koi Tower and traveled North.

“Is it always this damn cold? No wonder that damned Daoist never changes expression. It’s frozen solid.”

Baixue Temple was located on a plateau, secluded from the rest of the world. It benefited Xue Yang’s cause that he didn’t have to set up a sound barrier lest his work got interrupted. He pretended to be a hapless traveler, lost, and gained access to the temple.

He stayed two weeks, endearing himself to the other disciples and the Baixue Master. He was talented and polite. The Master asked the boy to consider an apprenticeship with them. Surely, teaching such a clever student would be a credit to the Cultivation World. He held such promise.

The Temple’s protection array was only slightly more difficult to break than the Chang Clan’s. Once broken, a mass of dark energies encircled the secluded dwelling, drawing madness and death into every crevice. Xue Yang chose not to use corpse powder and the amulet to cover his tracks. He owed it to Jin Guangyao who covered his tracks from before.

This was for past favors overdue. But, he also owed, both Daoists a debt that needed to be paid. And here he was, killing two birds with one stone. He could honestly ask for more, but was unsure of the means to incite further misery. He tossed his hands in the air. One thing at a time.

With his disciples’ bodies strewn all across the temple square, the master who had finally sealed most of the evil spirits, had only forgotten the one.

“Chengmei?”

Xue Yang withdrew from the shadows, approaching the elderly man, in the full moonlight. Donning the Baixue Temple’s robes, he appeared perfectly unscathed in the eerie pit of mutilated corpses. The Master’s eyes were nearly swollen shut. Exhausted from subduing the resentment energy, he crashed to his knees.

“Why?”

“There is no why.” He leaned down to whisper.

Xue Yang repeated the same phrase he had said to the vendors whose stalls he wrecked, the men, women, and children he slaughtered in the Chang Clan. Wei Wuxian found himself mouthing the words himself. He had heard them so often.

“Master Song,” he said, “I have a message your nephew needs to hear.”

“Don’t hurt Zichen,” the master pleaded.” A twitch at the boy’s mouth turned his smile into a thin line. He had been begged before. Many times, but for some reason, this time it irked him worse than the previous occasions.

“Don’t worry, I need him to pass a message along for me. A message from you, to him, to someone else. I guess that sounds complicated, but we have quite a while until he arrives. I can tell it all to you. Slowly.”

Xue Yang flipped out the dagger and pointed it at Master Song’s swollen eye. “

Hey,” he said, “there’s an awful strong resemblance between you and that damned Daoist. Are you really just Uncle and Nephew? Oh well, it doesn’t really matter, but you see, when I met him, I made a promise. To shatter his heart. But I need him to pass on a message. He’s the only one that I can trust to deliver the full impact. So, I’ve been thinking about how to solve this problem.”

The boy shook his head as though dilemma was as minor inconvenience like a sudden change in the weather forcing a detour. Master Song kowtowed in the direction of the shadow, begging for ‘Zichen’ to be spared. Xue Yang relented. His smiled returned. “Oh, alright, Master Song, if you insist.”

They waited 10 days for Song Lan to arrive for his Uncle’s Birthday. At the base of the mountain, he had felt the peculiar atmosphere, but nothing seemed out of sorts. As he climbed the mountain, towards the temple, the unease he felt grew stronger.

The customary ringing of the temple bells for morning prayers did not sound. He had heard the reverberation of those bells every day for first 20 years of his life. When he finally made it to the temple, the wide double doors were slightly ajar. With trembling hands, he pushed them open. He stumbled over the threshold. The bodies of his fellow students were scattered across the white meeting square in patches of detached limbs.

“Song Lan.”

At the same time, Wei Wuxian said his name, the Daoist found his Uncle’s broken body after hearing the elder grunt in pain. It was the only sound in the silence of fallen friends and family aside from his own voice calling “Master!”. His uncle couldn’t talk. His voice was hoarse, but he pointed a weak finger behind him. Song Lan didn’t understand until it was too late.

Xue Yang sprinted across the gabled roof and jumped down. He threw a poisonous mist at him. Song Lan doubled over in agony, scratching at his eyes. A searing burn pin pricked the optic nerves. It felt as though the nerves were being spiked through with a relentless storm of thin needles. He heard Xue Yang’s voice. He sounded distant, through the filter of agonizing pain.

“Song Lan, you tell Xiao Xingchen, that this is one BIG gift for him.”

With his message relayed, the boy vanished. Xue Yang lowered his killing intent. The murderous aura faded to nothing and the two injured men in the temple couldn’t feel the steady watchful gaze that studied their every move.

Song Lan held his Uncle’s hand to channel over a significant portion of his spiritual energy. From the pain in his eyes and the loss of spiritual power, Song Lan lost consciousness. The sacrifice gave his Uncle a boost in energy. He hauled Song Lan onto his back and began to carry him out of the temple, down the plateau.

The journey would take a day, at least, if you were fast. But for the injured and half-blind Master and the added weight on his back, it took two full days to reach the base. It was another three hours to arrive at the closest village.

The supply of spiritual energy that Song Lan gave, ran out midway on the trip down the mountain. Right now, Master Song was carrying his nephew on sheer will.

Villagers flocked to the renown cultivators and guided them to a clinic. Xue Yang had discarded the Baixue robes at the temple. He reserved a room at an inn and stayed a few days. News of the massacre spread like a pleasant melody. All conversation began, ended, and naturally delved into the Temple Killings. The boy sat at the ground level of the guesthouse and drank his wine. He was in a good mood.

At another table, he heard one man say, “Poor Master Song just passed. Daozhang Song is the last one left. He told us not contact Daozhang Xiao, so let’s not go against his wishes.”

“Oh, this won’t do at all.” Xue Yang muttered before paying paying for his tea.

Hmm, you pay now? Wei Wuxian remarked at the uncharacteristic behavior, but he knew that the boy’s true motivations were to observe the conclusion of his efforts without drawing attention to himself. Xue Yang left the guesthouse and found a Transcriber shop. He asked the man to write a letter for him.

“This letter...” The scribe froze in the middle of writing.

“Daozhang Xiao Xingchen. Surely he should know about this. He will find out eventually.”

The scribe’s confusion rested on the fact that the boy himself was well-dressed and articulate. He could probably write the letter himself, but he paid the fee upfront and another fee to have it delivered post haste.

It was just a boy, the scribe smiled to himself. Such a nice youngster, caring for others. They chatted as he wrote, talking about the birth of his son, heroes and good deeds, including those of Daozhang Song and Daozhang Xiao Xingchen.

“It’s a pity now. I heard that his eyes are badly damaged. I was looking forward to raising my son with stories of a local heroic Cultivator.”

“That’s true. But there’s always Daozhang Xiao Xingchen.”

“You must really admire him. Your smile widens when you speak of him.”

“Oh,” Xue Yang laughed, “I do.”

Wei Wuxian grimaced at the misinterpretation. He knew the boy well. The smiles were probably about the glee he anticipated from his revenge on Xiao Xingchen’s. Xue Yang thanked him for the letter and kept a close eye on the clinic and for any news of a Cultivator in white.

He did not have to wait long. Xiao Xingchen arrived within another day and a half. He went to a pharmacy first and then to the Transcriber shop. He held up the letter that he received, a polite smile on his delicate features.

Xue Yang was close by, watching, and Wei Wuxian was able to get within hearing distance to catch the last part of the conversation.

“Young? How young?”

“He was about Daozhang’s age. Maybe younger, but not much. He had a nice smile.”

“Oh.” Xiao Xingchen looked disappointed and thanked the man for his time. But the scribe waved his hand to stop him.

“Ah, I remember. At the corners of his mouth, pointed teeth.”

Xiao Xingchen turned around slowly, as if he didn’t hear correctly. His complexion couldn’t pale anymore and the polite smile left. The smile wandered and appeared on Xue Yang’s face.

The boy cocked his head to the side, admiring the cultivator’s inability to hide his shock. The scribe came from around the table and went to the Daozhang asking if he needed help. The Daoist shook his head, but was given directions towards the clinic.

After waiting a short time, the two Daoists emerged from the entrance. A blind-folded Song Lan led the way. He knew every path of his hometown. He walked to the outskirts of the village, to place where his Uncle had carried him previously in their journey. Xiao Xingchen trailed behind, hesitant to walk alongside him.

“Why did you come?”

“I received a letter.”

“I told them not to.”

Xiao Xingchen was quiet, deciding not to reveal the sender. He felt he had no place to speak. Wei Wuxian walked away from where Xue Yang perched to eavesdrop. He stood next to his Shishu, his anguish lingered on the tip of the fine brows, the lowered eyelashes, and the blush of his cheeks. It was in the timber of his voice, the choice of his words, his hesitations. He opened his mouth to apologize.

“I think it’s best if you go.” Song Lan replied. “After this, there’s no reason to meet.”

“I can help. There must be--”

“XINGCHEN! YOU’VE HELPED ENOUGH! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!” Song Lan’s voice rang out. His fingers gripped into fists. That’s why he led him out of the clinic. He was afraid he would lose his temper and didn’t want to disturb the villagers.

Xiao Xingchen shivered from the force of the words. “Never?” He echoed. Wei Wuxian gazed at the Daoist’s trembling lips. This would the last time he would see his Shishu again, like this. Whole. Unbroken.

Xue Yang had seen enough to be satisfied. He was leaving. Wei Wuxian felt the pull, but he didn’t want to go. He ran his fingers over the side of Xiao Xingchen’s hair, over the eyes. He etched the sight into his memory.

Part 3: Return to Yi City

Koi Tower was in an absolute uproar. Jin Guangshan was dead. Jin Guangyao was in power. And Madam Jin was inconsolable. She didn’t even have strength to hold her orphaned grandchild. The weight of losses, her only child, his wife, husband, respect in the cultivation world, was too much to bear gracefully.

Xue Yang idled around Lanling. He spent less time at Koi Tower now that the Shorty was in charge. Though he was as amiable as before, the rules he implemented at the Palatial Residence was stricter. The management did not change much because since his induction back to the sect, these matters were left to Jin Guangyao. He was simply receiving the credit publicly now.

One day, after being absent for weeks, he came back to Koi Tower. It wasn’t immediate, but when he did see it, he summoned Jiangzai immediately. There was an anomaly. Lan Xichen, the frequent visitor for the last few months was no where to be seen. Qin Su should have been back by now from another extended trip. Jin Ling, Madam Jin, and Mo Xuanyu were also absent.

Wei Wuxian reached into his belt for Chenqing. Wait, a minute, I’m a spirit. He sat down, cross-legged. Xue Yang dodged a sword flying towards his chest. He turned sideways and cut the man’s throat. He picked up the man’s sword and held it in his other hand. The twin sword attack he had tried on Hanguang Jun in Yi City.

Dozens of cultivators, some of them decent, rushed at him from all directions. Xue Yang killed them quickly. He calculated that the best time to bring out the amulet was when the numbers dwindled and his opponents were weakened from fighting. But the numbers didn’t dwindle as fast as he expected.

Wei Wuxian's eyes drew to the sword that whipped by his cheek in boredom. Hey, unless you’re Hanguang Jun’s sword, stop aiming for me! He shouted as he ducked. Xue Yang escaped into the Koi Tower’s West Wing. He set off the traps he had installed without Jin Guangyao’s knowledge.

Most of the Cultivators who had joined the Restoration Campaign did so as a quick leap for fame. They assumed that with their high numbers, that the enemy would be eliminated swiftly. But this was not the case. They glanced around at the fallen bodies of their colleagues.

Xue Yang found a private route that Jin Guangyao used around the residence. He had incurred several wounds. Separate, they weren’t serious. Altogether, with a barrage of stupid cultivators chasing after him, the injuries could be the difference between life and death for him. But he wasn’t going to die, the rest of the Chang Clan needed to be eliminated. And a couple other people too. Like a damned Shorty.

“I did tell you to leave them alone, didn’t I?” Jin Guangyao appeared at the end of the corridor.

“This or that.” Xue Yang shrugged his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“I suppose you’re right. There’s always a precedent.”

“Of course I’m right.”

Jin Guangyao smiled and tilted his head. “Right and smart aren’t the same thing. If you were smart, you would have listened to me.”

“Listen to your spiel? Some shit about ‘gentlemen and scoundrels’? I heard the real saying, you know?” Xue Yang laughed, pushing back down the black blood. “You look like a ‘gentlemen’ but we’re the same.”

Jin Guangyao had not reached for the sword curled at his belt. He held his hands behind his back, speaking leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world. He did, but his friend didn’t.

“Go.” He said. “I’ll distract them.”

“Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“Will you stab me in the back?”

“I’m a gentlemen. That wouldn’t look right, would it?”

Xue Yang leaped out the window onto the roof. The north west side should be unoccupied. The wounds on his sides and legs would hold out. For how long? A day, at least? While making multiple escape routes, he scaled down the wall to the female servants quarters. It was quiet here.

In the beginning, he was surprised that the quarters wasn’t an alternative harem, but after meeting Madam Jin, he understood. She would sooner burn down the entire Koi Tower, than be subjected to humiliation of housing whores.

He wasn’t that weak that he couldn’t fly on his sword. He could chance it. Didn’t he have irredeemably damn good luck? He staunched his wounds and summoned Jiangzai. He managed three hours of decent travel until his wounds reopened.

He had to choose now. Either stop where he was and use his spiritual energy to seal the stabs or continue flying until he crash landed, preferably somewhere safe. Haha, Safe? He scoffed at the idea. The latter was too reckless, even for him. Wei Wuxian watched the proud youth curl into the thick reeds outside Yi City.

Wolves howled in the distance. He flinched. Xue Yang snapped his fingers, mustering the last bit of spiritual energy he could spare to place a protective barrier around his body. Wei Wuxian laid down and crept closer to him. A dream or not, past or present, he wouldn’t take the risk that dogs were here and Lan Zhan was not. He felt a great pain in his chest, a yearning in body and spirit.

The pain only stiffened by the distraction of Xue Yang’s pitiful unconscious form. So like him, in this instance. Except they weren’t alike much. Neither of them liked dogs, but whereas Wei Wuxian would run, Xue Yang would kill. Always kill. It was his answer for everything, but then this was why Xue Yang was still alive and Wei Wuxian had died in his first life.

His eyes felt heavy. Could you sleep within a dream? He wondered, but decided he wouldn’t want to test out that theory. A worse alternative than being in Xue Yang’s dreamscape might be to in… He pondered the possibilities. Lan Qiren. He figured.

And if he was in the farmer’s dream, then naturally their dreams could be shared and he would SEE a lot more than his cabbage being nibbled. Things would progress from general intolerance of an annoying daughter-in-law to genocide. He doubted if any of the rabbits or Apple or his second life’s body and soul would be able to escape the wrath.

Staring at the moonless sky, the night glimmered with twinkling stars. It provided a little bit of light. It reminded him of the times when he rested on the roof of Lotus Pier with the other disciples. When Madam Yu and Uncle Jiang went Night Hunting, he would drink their brand of Lotus Wine by the bales.

Xue Yang had an usually high threshold for pain, but during the night he jostled in a fitful sleep. Xue Yang wore black. He couldn’t see the extent of his injuries. The dawning morning gave him a clearer idea of how bad the wounds were.

The boy lurched forward in agony. The pain bothered him enough to grimace and reach out his hand for help. How much pain was he in that he reached out?

He was unconscious when Wei Wuxian sat up in the tall grass after hearing the sounds of approaching feet. The rapping of the bamboo staff on the ground was foreboding and comforting. He jumped out of the ditch.

He waved his hands, gesturing forwards, blocking Xue Yang’s hidden body in the grass. Keep walking! Keep Walking! Nothing to see here!

But of course, A-Qing, who was the one HE didn’t want to see, because she could see, did see.

Xiao Xingchen found Xue Yang and carried him into Yi City.

He failed. For the first time in his life, both lives, he felt somewhat ashamed of it. But he was optimistic. There would be other opportunities. He was just hoping it wouldn’t take three years to save Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing, and Song Lan.

He tried to imagine failing. If he did fail, it could take thirteen years before he saw Lan Zhan again! Wei Wuxian made up his mind, then and there. He would not fail and when he made it back to Hanguang Jun, he would change “Every day” to “Every hour”.

Within the Coffin home, they were in constant company. Wei Wuxian stayed closer to his Shishu. He had spent years on the dreamscape with the other demonic cultivator and it had not made it fonder of him.

Yes, he pitied and sympathized with him, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care as much for him. Whenever he felt something akin to amusement, he would look back at his Shishu and A-Qing and remember what happened to them. Also the horror at Baixue and the Chang, each mirrored the massacre at Lotus Pier.

To save them, Wei Wuxian placed his first plan in motion. Because A-Qing was an ordinary girl instead of a cultivator, he decided that he could possibly reach her through her sleep. For several weeks, he tried whispering different phrases to her. Tell him you can see, Tell him you can see.

But when she woke up, she would remember it differently. ‘Tell him you can see’ became “Sell him tea’. A-Qing then became invested in the idea she could profit from selling tea if she ever received the opportunity.

“Leave the Coffin Home.” was misconstrued as her unconscious telling her play in the city and countryside.

The only one that worked was ‘Kill the Stranger’ which amplified A-Qing's already deep-seated anger at Xue Yang, but also made her seem unreasonably prejudiced. In the end, it amounted to nothing and he realized he needed to change gears.

Most of the boy’s injuries had healed. The last wound on his leg made him limp slightly. When the trio walked through the town, he was mocked as a cripple. When A-Qing was asleep and Xiao Xingchen was on a Night Hunt, he found the mocking men and made an example of them.

The he executed the plan of asking to join the Daozhang on his Night Hunts. He remembered when A-Qing followed the first two. Using Empathy, the user often witnessed the Sharer’s most emotional memories. It was never a complete set.

While sharing a dreamscape, in the beginning, the potency allows both parties to interact with elements in the dream. But what was odd, was that only Xue Yang’s dreams were the ones being shared. And as a part of the dream, he could do nothing like in the previous dreams. He could not move anything or talk to others. He had managed to influence A-Qing during her sleep, but that was the result of continuous, painstaking trial and error.

So what was he experiencing now? Were they even dreams?

When he had died, his soul had wandered.

He had thought that what he was experiencing was the fading effects of the Incense Burner.

But what if it was the Dagger?

Wei Wuxian snapped back to the moment at hand. Xue Yang had tricked Xiao Xingchen into killing another group of villagers.

“This is our third night-hunt. We should celebrate.”

“Alright.”

Xue Yang reached into his right sleeve which he had modified with Qiankun properties. He brought out a jug of wine. Wei Wuxian began to drool and reached out for the jug. After previous attempts, he realized the limits of his physical capacity was less than that of a ghost. This scene reminded him of all those memories of sneaking alcohol in Cloud Recesses.

The power of the incense burner had previously allowed him to interact with the dreamer participants. While he could still sit in a chair and put his arms around objects, he could not pick them up or move them. Between Empathy, Incense Burner, and whatever this was, this thing was the one he liked least. At least with Empathy, he could experience alcohol as the user themselves or take the jug from during a dream.

Here, he could only watch in envy as Xue Yang tossed away the lid cover and drank straight from it. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve after the first swig. He pushed the jar closer to the Daoist, mindful not to give it to him directly in case they touched. The other man was hesitant, so he said,” I don’t have any cups.” He shrugged as an apology, then muttered a ‘sorry’ to the blind man.

“No I-”

“You don’t drink?”

“Not much.”

His Shishu probably drank a cup at Cultivation Conferences and then probably only out of politeness.

“I usually burn the effects of the alcohol with my core.”

“Don’t do that. This isn’t some pompous gathering of sects. Drink it properly. Don’t let me drink by myself.”

Xue Yang used the same cloying tone when he asked to go on the night hunt. He sounded like a regular junior disciple and with this archetype in mind, Xiao Xingchen caved in. He lifted the jug and balanced it against his mouth, taking gentle sips.

Xue Yang reached out and pushed the bottom of the jar up. Alcohol poured down the Daoist’s throat. He attempted to put the jar down, but Xue Yang kept his hand steady, a smirk on his mouth. Laughing too much, his hand lost it’s firm hold and he let the jar drop.

“I’m sorry, Daozhang,”he said in sputters of coherent speech. “You really are a novice! Don’t drink like that among us commoners. You’ll never live it down!”

“I have a lot to learn about the world.” He took out a handkerchief and dabbed it against his mouth. By this time, Xue Yang had to double over in the ground from laughter, hitting the ground.

“You are too much!”

Wei Wuxian gazed in awe. Are you from the Lan Sect, Shishu? Are you from some lost branch? He wondered. What manners are these? This boy just poured alcohol down your throat. HIT HIM. Fight him. Killing him would be best though.

Suddenly Wei Xuxian froze. This scene was indeed familiar. Didn’t he once do this with Lan Zhan? He wiped away the invisible guilt. I wasn’t that bad, he told himself, and Xiao Xingchen was doing remarkably better than Lan Zhan did. Was he secretly burning it with his core?

The Daoist declined any more alcohol, so Xue Yang drank the rest of the jar on his own. He threw the jar down. When it smashed into the ground, he left out a satisfied laugh.

“We should go back.” The Daoist tried to get to his feet, but swayed. Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang noticed it immediately, but where as Wei Wuxian rushed to his side, Xue Yang stayed back. Once Xiao Xingchen sank into the ground, the boy took out a piece of round pearl and ate it. Candy or an antidote? Did he drug the alcohol?

Wei Wuxian bent down and tapped lightly on his cheeks. His touches made no pressure. “Wake up, Shishu. Wake up.”

Xue Yang, with his back against the moonlight, summoned Jiangzai. He sauntered over, leisurely. The tip of Jiangzai’s blade hit the Daoist’s shoe.

“Daozhang, Daozhang,” he called out in a tender voice. “If you don’t wake up, something bad may happen.” He leaned down and pressed the drawn blade against the man’s cheek. The blade pressed in deep enough that it would leave an impression, but not enough to cut. A sinister smile edged on his lips and the tender voice from before transformed into one of malice. “You are too easy, Xiao Xingchen! Too easy.”

Xue Yang closed his hand into a fist, leaving only his thumb out. Shit, he’s going to seal his spiritual powers. Wei Wuxian reached out a hand to stop him. But the hand that had been hovering over the other man’s chest, retracted and fell back to it’s side.

He nudged the man with a closed fist. “Wake up.” He ordered. “I’m not going to carry your stupid self. Get up!” But Xiao Xingchen did not move. Xue Yang pocketed Jiangzai and Shuanghua into his right sleeve. He looked at the missing pinky on his left hand.

He labored over the methods on how to carry the Daoist back. He couldn’t take the chance that his identity would be discovered. With the Daozhang’s heightened senses as a result of his high cultivation level, he would recognize the delinquent's missing finger immediately.

Wei Wuxian ticked off the boxes in his own head. Piggyback. Bridal carry. Supporting Xiao Xingchen with one arm would require the Daoist to be semi-concious. Otherwise it was much too slow to be productive. But all three methods would require Xue Yang to use both hands. Too dangerous.

The boy leaned down and picked the cultivator up. He threw him over his right shoulder. He looked like Wen Ning carrying a burlap sack of turnips. His spiritual power was not as high because he did not practice cultivation in his youth. It would cost too much energy to fly on his sword with the Daoist in tow. Xiao Xingchen would also need a guide to fly on Shuanghua and the younger man did not like to be touched. As a result, this was why they opted to walk to the Night Hunt’s destination.

Wei Wuxian trailed behind them. Xiao Xingchen’s long hair touched the ground as he swayed over the shoulder. With his height, white clothes, and appearance very similar to Lan Zhan, and Xue Yang’s build close to his own, he saw the scene as comedic.

I need to get Hanguang Jun to let me throw him over my shoulder like this. A bandit Demon Cultivator abducting the Wholesome Beauty! Wei Wuxian chucked to himself. Or the Pig steals the Cabbage: Part 2!

Xue Yang turned around, wary. Could he see him? Wei Wuxian stepped directly into his line of sight, but the boy looked through him, back at the recently traveled path. Looking into his eyes, Wei Wuxian received goosebumps all over his body. His earlier happy thoughts of reuniting with Lan Zhan and playing cabbage emptied of every thought but one.

Though the entire face was different, it looked like a mirror. It was the Yiling Patriarch. Even though, at this time, he was already dead, his body ripped to shreds, soul wandering. The hatred was there. It was so familiar and intimate, he felt a tear role down the corner of his eye.

Wei Wuxian glanced behind him. Was there something there? Why did Xue Yang suddenly stop?

Xue Yang adjusted the Daoist on his shoulder and then continued to walk. Back at the Coffin Home, A-Qing was already asleep in her coffin. The Daoist had not stirred once during the entire journey.

He carried the sleeping man into only room of the house and towards the single bed. Xue Yang gently guided the man down off his shoulder and laid him down. Xiao Xingchen slid onto the thin bedding as lightly as a cloud. Xue Yang straightened out the whites robes and placed one hand over the other. He pulled up the stool and for the entire night watched the sleeping Daoist.

Once certain that Xue Yang meant no harm, he settled into a corner to watch the boy. Xue Yang didn’t move. He stayed perfectly still like one of his own walking corpses, unable to move unless commanded to.

In the early morning hours, Xiao Xingchen stirred. He sat up in the bed and threw his feet over. His feet knocked into his sitting companion. He apologized for having burdened him, taking his bed, and being such a nuisance.

“I gave it.”

“Hmm?”

“The bed. I gave it to you. Otherwise you’d been laying on the floor and woke up with straw in the your hair. I walk with you into the village. I can’t have you looking foolish. The man walking with the fool is biggest fool of all. A complete jackass.”

An embarrassed laugh from the Daoist warmed Wei Wuxian’s spirit. The soft smile was disarming. Xue Yang who had been blocking the man’s exit off the bed stood up and moved out of the way. Xiao Xingchen stepped down, walked a few steps, and paused.

“What is it?”

The boy was sniffing at his shoulder. “You…,” he began in a soft voice, “smell like me.”

“Of course I do.” Xiao Xingchen shook his head with good-nature. He had just slept in the same bed after all.

“I like it.”

“Of course, you like your own smell. Everyone should.”

Xiao Xingchen ventured on a ramble about the unique smells around Yi city. Meanwhile, Xue Yang’s mouth had been opened to clarify his meaning, but stayed silent. He alternated from staring at Daozhang and then looking away, his expression full of conflict.

“I can wash it for you. The bedding. I was thinking of doing the laundry today.”

“No, it’s fine. But I do have some clothes to wash.”

“I can wash them.”

“How can you tell if they’re clean?”

“Timing. Once they’re soaked enough and been boarded, they should be clean.” He smiled. “And no smells until they’re worn again.”

“I don’t believe you, but you don’t seem like you lie.”

“You’re more than welcome to supervise.”

Xue Yang took the Daoist up on his offer. From his Qiankun pouch, he found a bag of clothes and plopped it down beside the water basin. Wei Wuxian sat next to him. The cooking, cleaning, even much of the clean-up after their meals, shopping, and NOW laundry. These two., he glanced at the young loafers. His Shishu spoiled them too much. He felt the urge to chide the man. But also another urge to take A-Qing’s bamboo and hit the youngsters.

But of course, A-Qing, as regular blind human girl, pretending to be blind, could not be expected to wash clothes, whether she washed them well or not. Since the Daozhang was blind, she felt comfortable letting him do the washing.

“Children should play.” Daozhang would insist. After cleaning up what bits of the house she could, she went into the city to play (pick pocket) or roam the countryside, where she could enjoy a nice bathe in a lake and take a respite from being blind.

She left her other set of clothes with them and set off. A last look at the stranger and an audible sneer and she was off. At least today, the leech seemed like he was going to be helpful.

Xiao Xingchen took off his outer robe and folded it neatly on a coffin. He took out a flat silk chord and wrapped it around his shoulders. It cross-crossed in the back and held his long sleeves neatly in place. He sat down in front of a basin and washed A-Qing’s first. Diligently and with care. During this wash, Xue Yang’s clothes was soaking in the cleansing water, bubbling with air. He laid the washed set in a spare tray and took it to hang.

“Daozhang, if you dry all the clothes together, how can you tell which is yours and ours?”

“That’s silly. Of course I can tell. The size of the clothing. And the fabric too.”

He reached for Xue Yang’s bucket of laundry and set about pressing them against the washboard. “A-Qing. Her clothes are very old. The material was rough when it was made, but frequent wear has made it finer, a bit softer to the touch. Hmm, if I have any money left over, I’ll go and get her something more suitable for the weather. Nicer fabric too.”

“And mine?”

Xue Yang tilted his head. His voice was endearing, but his mouth was curved in a twisted smile. All the adaptions Xiao Xingchen made and how well he functioned was awe-inspiring. But Wei-Wuxian could read on Xue Yang’s face, ‘You’re still an idiot that gave up his eyes and because of that. You can’t tell it’s me.’ There was pride mixed in at having reduced the famous cultivator to this state.

Xiao Xingchen ran his hands over the fabric. “Do you wear dark colors?” he asked. “Dyed fabric feels heavier, and this material and the geometric designs on it, the pattern would look best with darker clothes.” When he didn’t received a response, he asked the boy if he was right.

Xue Yang glanced at the clothes in his hands and the expectant face. “I wear black.”

“Your clothes are very nice, quite fine. You used to take your clothes to be washed in the village. The washer did a fine job.”

Of course the washer did a fine job. Her client exuded such a malignant aura, she did not dare to be haphazard in the undertaking. It was life or death and she knew it. Wei Wuxian inched closer to his Shishu.

The arms were smooth, the fingers long, the tips of his fingers delicate. The slight movement of his white robes swayed with his elegant movements. He had only seen such elegance in one other person. He sighed. Oh, Lan Zhan, where are you? I feel like I’ve been here forever.

When all the clothes had been hung to dry, Xue Yang’s alone took up more than four drying rods. A -Qing returned and the routine bickering and dinner occurred. Xiao Xingchen went on a night hunt on his own.

Xue Yang retired early to be separated from A-Qing. He laid on his side, with his back against the wall, his face turned three quarters into the bedding. His hand rested by the spot where Xiao Xingchen’s head had been.

Like earlier in the day where he could smell his own scent on the other man, here it was the reverse. He could smell the woodsy aroma of incense and fresh earth over the man’s regular scent. It was a pleasant fragrance, but he wasn’t altogether happy. Wei Wuxian shook his head in pity. The boy didn’t understand why, but he did.

The Daoist returned late in the night. His Shishu took up his regular spot by the wall, his sword crossed in his arms. He sat upright in a restful meditation.

Wei Wuxian knelt by the wall and hovered over the resting man. He leaned in closer, wondering if he could see through or under the bandage. Why do you value yourself except for when you’re of use to others, Xiao Xingchen?

He draped his arms around his shoulder and chest, with his head against the man’s neck. ‘Love yourself a little.’

Part 4: Storytime

Dust and ash flew into A-Qing’s mouth. “This kitchen is so dirty.” She struggled to scrape all the ash out of the iron stove’s ash tray into a spare basin.

“Can’t we just continue to cook with the cauldron over a fire?”

“That’s not the best long term option.”

“I’m used to it. We don’t need anything fancy.”

“You’re still young and growing. If you can eat better, you should. It’s just a bit of cleaning.”

A-Qing pouted, but continued to work diligently.

The kitchen in the coffin home was large. Xiao Xingchen measured with his feet the width of the room, precisely the location of the stove. He was able to map out where everything was. From the bed’s corner in the main house, Xue Yang watched the two blinds shuffle about the kitchen.

Little blind dragged the basin out through the kitchen door while the taller blind settled about organizing the materials in the kitchen. A basket of vegetables was outside the open door separating the rooms. Xue Yang dragged his injured leg off the bed and limped forward. The boy leaned on the frame. He glanced down at the basket.

Bad quality.

Little Blind pulled the basin back in. She purposely yanked the bin too hard and it knocked into door frame.

“A-Qing?”

“Oh!” she yelped. “Sorry!” Leftover ash spilled over the boy’s clothes.

“That was on purpose!”

“It was not! I can’t see. Why are you standing in the doorway anyway?”

It was totally on purpose, but the boy couldn’t prove it. Wei Wuxian watched the two argue, evenly matched.

“Daozhang!” She protested.

“A-Qing...” Just this and the girl settled back at the ash bin and continued to clean. She mumbled under her breath.

“Do you need help?” The boy asked.

“Oh, now you ask?”

“No, you should rest and make sure you get better.”

“I’ll be fine. I helped with the roof already. I’m sure this wouldn’t be anything strenuous.”

“I was going to gather some kindling.”

“I’ll help.”

There was a forest at the outskirts of Yi City. Xue Yang carried a rough burlap wrap. He waited out of the clearing. Xiao Xingchen unsheathed Shuanghua. As lightly as he treaded the earth when he walked, he flew upwards and cut down branches. The branches landed into neat piles in the clearing. A flurry of leaf buds accompanied his descent from the heavens. So his Shishu could even do this in a graceful repose?

Xue Yang unrolled the burlap and started tossing the cut twigs, diligent in gathering, but constantly stealing glances back at the other cultivator.

Up to no good, Wei Wuxian heard the boy call his Shishu in a curious tone with a smirk present on his mouth. Xiao Xingchen leaned down to gather the kindle into a second burlap wrap.

“Your cultivation is so high. It is clear that you are skilled. You must be the Young Master from a great Sect, am I right?”

Embarrassed, the Daoist shook his head. “That is not the case. I am not affiliated with any sects. I am from the mountains.”

“The mountains? That must be why you seem like an immortal.” Xue Yang feigned amazement and even managed a flustered laugh at the end.

Wei Wuxian hated to admit it, but his acting was impressive.

“Daozhang, with such a high skill as yours. There shouldn’t be anyone that can hurt you. Then your eyes… I mean. Never mind. Don’t mind me.”

This bastard…

Xiao Xingchen’s fingers gripped the branches he had just picked up. He regained his composure.

“There are some things that I don’t want to be asked about.” His tone was such that no one would take offense to it, but Xue Yang’s eyes narrowed.

“I understand, Daozhang. Someday, when I am worthy of your trust, I hope you can share your troubles with me.”

He rolled up the burlap and tied it tightly. Then he grabbed the other roll of kindling before the Daoist could protest.

“Let this be the beginning, Daozhang.”

“Alright.”

Back at the coffin home, the hearth was finally clean. Without the Stranger as a witness, she cleaned much faster. She scrubbed the grime as though it was the Stranger’s face. The stove was ready to be used.

The coffin home exuded a wealth of difference from a few weeks ago. Welcoming and lively.

Xiao Xingchen peeled the skin off the vegetables. When he felt a patch that was rotting, he cut it away layer by layer, so he could salvage as much as possible.

A-Qing busied herself with boiling water and clean-up. Xue Yang set up the table. There were three plates, but only two pairs of chopsticks and two cups. Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing sat down.

“What happened to the cups and chopsticks?”

“I accidentally broke it.”

Accidentally broke it on purpose. Wei Wuxian wondered what he was up to.

“A-Qing, Friend, go ahead and used the cup and utensils.”

“No! DaoZhang, you’ll get dirty!” A-Qing said.

“I have an idea.”

You CREATE the problem to solve it. This person...Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes in disgust.

“What do you suggest?”

“A-Qing and Daozhang can get the chopsticks. I’m from streets. I can eat however I want. Daozhang you may be from the mountains, but you’re no savage.”

“Are you sure?” The Daoist asked.

“Of course.” The smile in Xue Yang’s voice was audible.

“Alright then.”

“Wait!” A-Qing stopped them. “What about the cups? There’s only two.”

“Daozhang and I will share. He can’t share with you.”

“He can’t share with you!” A-Qing was aghast.

“What? Should he share with you then? Are you that shameless that you think that it’s alright for men and women to share.”

“You’re the one that’s shameless.”

“Let me tell you, Little Blind. Me and Daozhang are practically Sworn Brothers. We’ve drank wine together from the same jug.”

“Daozhang!”

“It was just a little, A-Qing.”

The girl turned her attention to the cultivator. “Daozhang, this scoundrel is bereft of morals. Completely bereft of morals.”

“Bereft?” Xue Yang interjected. “Where did you get these fancy words from? You certainly can’t read them?”

“What’s wrong with not being able to read? I’m blind! What will I do with being literate? What’s wrong with learning new words? I have ears. I listen. I hear new words and I use them. That’s the perfect use for them. UNLIKE YOU, you have a mouth, but nothing good comes out of it. And your ears don’t hear anything good either!”

“Little Blind, ears and mouths are different because they have different functions. Why explain this to me? Do you think I’m stupid? Even a 5 year old child knows this. Let me tell you, because you can’t see. I’m OLDER than you.”

“But you’re not older than Daozhang!”

“How do you know that?” Xue Yang purred. Wei Wuxian finally understood the boy’s motivation. He was baiting her.

“He’s so mature and cultured.”

Xue Yang shrugged his shoulders. “He was raised like some Young Master. Of course he’s going to seem older. What difference does that make? I’m still OLDER than you.”

“No more.” The Daoist said calmly. “The food is getting cold.” Xiao Xingchen pushed the cup in the boy’s direction. “Since you gave me the chopsticks, you can have the cup.”

“You don’t want to share with me?”

A-Qing stuck out her tongue in the direction of his voice.

“I don’t want to force you to share.”

Xue Yang took the cup and drank from it. “No, I understand.”

Wei Wuxian tucked a hand under his chin. He sat opposite A-Qing from the square table. He watched the argument between the two juniors ping pong with some amusement. But the boy’s passive acceptance made him uneasy because it was just that, too easy.

Xiao Xingchen was quiet for the rest of the meal. The barbs from the forest that were just reiterated must have weighed in his mind. There was always something in the young man’s conscience that erred on the side of guilt. Perhaps it was the disappointment that Baoshan Sanren must have expressed when he left the mountain.

That he felt unfilial to leave the Master that had taken him from poverty and homelessness to live well as a disciple. His Master hadn’t outright said much to him when he left the mountain. Just reiterated the rule that that once he left the mountain, he could not return.

His Shishu must have been so confident when he left the mountain. That his goal of saving the world was possible. He might have been hesitant at first, but once he met Song Lan and began actually saving others, it was made real. It gave weight to his confidence. Until the events of Baixue Temple.

Perhaps his Master was right not to leave the mountain. Perhaps he was wrong for being so over-confident, but he, himself, did not pay the price. Song Lan did and to ease the guilt or balance it, he exchanged his eyes for the ones the other man lost and erased his own existence. Xiao Xingchen became plagued with the idea that all his good deeds had unforeseeable consequences.

His choice to help the Chang Clan ended with Song Lan’s blindness and the massacre of Baixue Temple, and Xue Yang was set free.

What if behind every good deed he had ever done, there was a Xue Yang undoing everything he ever did?

These were the thoughts that plagued the Daoist during this dinner. Wei Wuxian frowned. How was he able to sense these thoughts? It wasn’t possible to share empathy with multiple people.

A-Qing shot up from the table, announcing she had to go the bathroom. The two men were left alone.

“If you think the cup is dirty because I used it, just say so.”

“It’s not that.” The Daoist insisted. “I just don’t want others to be inconvenienced because of me.”

“So, you’d rather offend me than inconvenience me.”

Xue Yang turned the cup completely around. Not wanting to arguing any longer, Xiao Xingchen reached out for the cup and drank from it. The Daoist lips were slightly moist from drinking the water.

The boy watched intently as the man’s lips touched the same place where his own had been. Because he knew the Daoist would cave, he had turned the cup around and positioned it just so that this would occur.

It was just a shared cup.

He, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang had shared cups during their boyhood as well. It was nothing special. But it was rotten to think of Xiao Xingchen sharing anything with Xue Yang. That of two forces, waging a war for influence, that his Shishu would lose and that the taint couldn’t be removed.

After washing the dishes and leaving them on the counter to dry, Xiao Xingchen sat by her fixing a basket.

A-Qing asked for a story.

Wei Wuxian didn’t realize it was the same night as the one from her version of shared empathy. He sat next to her. The impish joy beamed from her face. The experience of observing her after living as her was a unique experience. It felt like the closest he could ever feel with another person with the exception of Lan Zhan.

Where was Lan Zhan? What was he doing? Had much time passed? Was he trying to wake him as usual? Did he have to roll Wei Wuxian over to make space for himself?

His Shishu’s story-telling was indeed sparse. When he spoke of having no one to have told him stories. He realized that maybe the reason why Xiao Xingchen left the mountain was because he was lonely. He had a Master, there were other disciples, but it was an austere upbringing. Wasn’t it similar to how Hanguang Jun grew up in the Lan Sect?

How terrible it must have been to grow up surrounded by others and still feel alone? He lamented both upbringings and his own current situation as a spirit that couldn’t be seen or heard. He felt so alone.

Xiao Xingchen told a thinly veiled edition of his senior disciples’ lives including the one of his Senior Martial Sister. Wei Wuxian wished the story had more detail. He loved hearing about his mother, but he knew that his mother had left the mountain long before Xiao Xingchen had been accepted as a disciple. Even if the details were all lies, the embellishments would have fed the imagination that had so little fact to work with.

A-Qing ended the story and changed over to ask about Night Hunts and Monsters.

Xue Yang slowly rose when A-Qing asked if Xiao Xingchen had traveled with others before. Especially when the man answered that he had not always been alone.

Up till now, Xiao Xingchen had never mentioned Song Lan. This omission plucked a particular nerve within Xue Yang. He asked the Daozhang questions about this friend.

Xiao Xingchen answered vaguely. He set the basket he had fixed aside. Wei Wuxian curled his arms around his Shishu protectively.

A-Qing’s attention turned to Xue Yang who offered to tell them a story. The beginning was innocent enough. At the moment, the boy revealed that the child was beaten, his Shishu raised his head slightly. He mouth bore the same transparent lines of distress when the Stranger admitted that he was often injured and beaten. That he had become used to it.

The boy ended the story abruptly. A-Qing shook her head in disbelief. Awful storytelling. After ranting out the injustice she felt for the foolish child in the second story, she was shooed off to bed. Xiao Xingchen followed her to her coffin, and asked her if she needed his outer robe.

“It’s getting warmer now, Daozhang. It’s okay.”

He smoothed out the hair on the top of her head and wished her a ‘Good Night’.

The Daoist quietly asked the boy about the rest of the story. The boy reversed the question. Perhaps more to himself, than for the boy’s sake, he told him not to reminisce about past unhappy events.

Xue Yang, in a loud voice, so that A-Qing could hear him, remarked that he only brought the story up because he had no more candy because the girl ate them all. Without realizing it, he had confessed to being the boy in the story.

A-Qing shouted back in her own defense.

The Daoist intervened as always. He told both of them to rest and headed out to Night Hunt on his own. Wei Wuxian sat by the wall and waited for his Shishu. He had never known whether or not the boy had slept or just woken up early during this pivotal moment within Yi City.

Xue Yang didn’t sleep. The revelation of his story and subsequent admission that the child had indeed been him made him vigilant. He lay quietly on the bed, not stirring at all. But his hand rested in his sleeve, curved around Jiangzai’s hilt ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Xiao Xingchen came back in the early morning, when the sky had softened to a rose-peach hue. Like the ‘Dawn’ in his name, he brought the light back with him.

He leaned down first into A-Qing’s coffin and placed the piece of candy on her pillow. From his vantage point, Wei Wuxian couldn’t see what was placed in the coffin and by extension neither could Xue Yang. The boy’s killing intent had not rose yet, but he could see his body tense as the Daoist came closer.

On a table nearby the bed, Xiao Xingchen left a piece of candy on the table. Xue Yang’s hand left the hilt of Jiangzai and he sat up to see the silhouetted white clothed Cultivator rejoin the world outside of the cramped living quarters.

Xue Yang could not express genuine gratitude. In words, at least.

Instead he began to do more chores. He would always complain about the hassle, but he did them well, which proved he didn’t mind it nearly as much as he said he did. He became a bit gentler with A-Qing as well and towards Daozhang, well that was another matter entirely.

He continued to make trips to poison villagers with corpse powder. There was a sharp increase after the first day when he received the candy. One night, after killing the last of the villagers, Xiao Xingchen followed Xue Yang into a house. The soles of his white shoes stepped in blood soaked floors.

“Is all the corpses taken care of in here?”

“Yeah, Daozhang.”

The man turned to leave, the soles and top of his shoes were spotted pink with the blood. Together, they left the village. Xue Yang’s gaze was fixated on the blood-spotted shoes.

“Daozhang?”

“What is it?”

“You remember the old lady with the cow?”

“Yes.”

“She had asked me to write a letter for her. She’s not literate. I told her my handwriting was bad.”

Wei Wuxian tsked. It’s not that your handwriting is bad, just distinct. With all the Jin Sect spies all over the country, he was concerned about being found out.

“She can’t afford a transcriber shop, only the mailing fee. Could you write one for her?”

“How can I?”

“If I guide you, can you do it?”

“You don’t like to be touched.”

“I can bear with it. We should help her out if we can.”

The Daoist agreed. “Alright then.”

Trailing next to his Shishu, he switched to walk alongside Xue Yang. This sudden act of altruism was suspicious, but the boy continued looking at the Daoist’s shoes.

“Daozhang, there’s a lake nearby. Let’s take a break.”

“Alright.”

Xiao Xingchen sat on a rock by the water. His legs were propped outward on the grass.

“Do you have another pair of shoes?”

The Daoist thought about it. He had never considered it before. “No, just these.”

“Take them off.”

“These are my only pair. Why?”

“Your shoes are dirty.”

“But then my socks will get dirty.”

“I’ll loan you some of mine. I have a spare pair.”

“Don’t you wear black? They won’t match.” Xiao Xingchen laughed as if he had tried to make a joke. He didn’t want to inconvenience the young man. He could simply walk in his own shoes until they got back. But the boy was quite adamant about the matter.

“Why?”

“I don’t like seeing you dirty.”

Xiao Xingchen sighed and handed his shoes over. He felt a pair of heavy boots and put them on. While he tried them on, a bit clunky, the boy went to the edge of the water. The splashes of water suggested that his companion was washing something.

“I can clean my shoes.” He called out in a concerned voice.

“I’ve got it!”

Wei Wuxian sat on the adjacent rock from his Shishu. The man sat patiently, completely in white, except for his shoes, that were as black as his hair. He could see Xue Yang, at the water’s edge, scrubbing the white soles until they were clean. He stuffed them in a Qiankun pouch, so he wouldn’t have to carry them the rest of the trip.

“All done.”

The Daoist stood up and tested the fit of the shoes. It was comfortable enough. They continued on their journey. From time to time, Xue Yang’s eyes drew back to the man’s feet. But it became less focused on that aspect and in taking long, steady gazes at the Daoist’s entire form.

It had been quite a while since any jabbing remarks or sneers were expressed by the boy towards the Daoist. As much as Wei Wuxian hated those previous interactions, the current ones worried him more.

***

The next morning, they went to see the old woman whose cow they had exorcised a few days ago. The elder could not provide much, just a table. Xiao Xingchen had ink and paper left over from before he was blind. He sat on a small bench at the table.

Xue Yang brushed the paper onto the table, pinning it with candle holders as weights and prepping the ink. When learning to write, often students were given small grids to practice their brushstrokes. Xiao Xingchen could still write perfectly well, but if he were to try and write a letter or couplet, the difficulty was in that he simply couldn’t see the grid to continue writing. If he tried to touch where he wrote, trying to mark the invisible squares, he risked damaging the previous writing.

“Practice first.” The boy said. He hid his left hand behind his back. With his right hand he gave the Daoist the brush and cupped the smooth, unblemished hand in his.

“Let me know if I’m holding too tight.”

“A-Alright.”

Xiao Xingchen’s head titled and bumped into the young man’s chest who stood behind him. “You can sit down.”

“It’ll be easier to stand. It’s not a long letter anyway. Ready?”

He called in the Elder to dictate what she wanted written. Xue Yang guided his hand to each square so that he could write in a seamless flow. The letter was finished quickly, but Wei Wuxian felt that the moment lasted an hour.

When the letter was finished, the boy did not let go. His hand remained firmly attached to the Daoist even when the paper was taken away after drying. The elderly woman folded it up and went to go deliver it to a poster. They were alone.

“Is there another letter to write?” Xiao Xingchen asked, not understanding why the boy continued to hold his hand. He sensed his companion shake his head. The hand gripping his became firmer. The brush fell on to the table.

“Xue Yang!” Wei Wuxian shouted. Did he hear him?

The young man let go. “I’m sorry, Daozhang.” He slid into the bench next to him. “Your hand is so soft. It’s like touching clouds.”

The Daoist shook his head. “Now you’re just being silly.”

“I’m not. Here. See for yourself.”

The boy placed his right hand in the middle of the table. The Daoist was hesitant, but ran his fingertips tentatively over the back of the boy’s hands. It had the rough texture of sand, sword callouses, and a couple indentations of old scars. He ran his hands over the skin several times. Wei Wuxian watched Xue Yang's eyes flicker as the delicate fingers gently pat the scars. Then the boy’s hand slipped out of his.

“It’s time to go, Daozhang.”

“Alright.”

***

A few months became a full year and tumbled into three years...

There was such a contrast between the two men. Just a year, maybe 2 years’ difference in age, where the elder had barely lived at all, but the younger had lived too much.

The gap of a couple cun in height. One slight, one lean. One clean. One sullied. One came from a Celestial Mountain raised as precious as a rare pearl who valued the life of others, but not the one he was given. The other crawled for survival, clawing out an existence for himself, feeding off fear, living on vicissitudes as fickle as human nature itself.

Xiao Xingchen seemed to unite all natural blessings. Xue Yang was cursed; a malediction to himself and others. Where one had, the other had to be without.

Such dissonant lives held a chasm as deep as the distance between Heaven and Hell.

How could any bridge exist between them?

Still, Wei Wuxian could see one did. But it was fine one. Delicate. Permeable. One breath could shake it. One word could break the threads holding the planks together. In the end, that is what happened.

He lived through it again. It was more even more agonizing the second time around.

Instead of hiding behind the window like A-Qing, he kneeled with Xue Yang at the motionless body of the White Robed Cultivator. He saw his Shishu’s devastation at the revelation of his crimes. His bloodied hand clutching Fuxue. The cracks in his voice in his futile attempts to call for his friend, while Song Lan stood mute and motionless, awaiting commands.

Let me go..

 Wei Wuxian knelt in a panic with his Shishu. His hands shook. He tried to stop the flow of Shuanghua, but of course he couldn't. This was no dream. If it had been, he would have stopped it all...

Jiangzai clattered to the ground and together, in a strange twist of fate, the pure Daoist from the Celestial Mountain was mourned by two Demonic Cultivators.

 Xue Yang laughed softy and sighed. He could fix this. He could. He knew how.

Xue Yang picked up and carried Daozhang into the Coffin Home. He painted a Soul Summoning and encircled the body in a string of talismans made from his own blood. Then the boy picked up Shuanghua and collected the blood into a glass vial before sheathing it into scabbard and placing it on the table.

He waited for him to wake up.

He waited.

He waited and waited...

Something was wrong...

Collapsing to check the array, he leaned over and felt for Xiao Xingchen's spirit. It had shattered. Xue Yang flew in a madness.

Screaming. Thrashing. Slashing with Jiangzai.

Once the physical madness subsided, the chanting began.

Spirit-Trapping Pouch... Spirit Trapping Pouch...Spirit Trapping Pouch...

Xue Yang had none in his Qiankun sleeve, but he knew where to get one. He leaned down and placed Xiao Xingchen on his back. The Daoist's arms hung limply over his shoulder. Holding onto the legs, he chanted the mantra to make sure he wouldn't forget.

With A-Qing, he never knew where Xue Yang took Xiao Xingchen the night of his death. They walked on and on. Xue Yang could have run, but he didn't want to jostle the remaining spirit left in the body.

Koi Tower... Xue Yang was so desperate. He came to Koi Tower.

 He used the secret entrance that had not changed and by good fortune, he found Jin Guangyao sitting alone in the corridor.

"Chengmei?"

 He glanced at the unconscious man over Xue Yang's shoulder. His eyes flickered down for a bit as he reached over to close the door and erect a sound barrier so they couldn't be heard. The old friend was mumbling...

Spirit-Trapping Pouch... Spirit Trapping Pouch...Spirit Trapping Pouch...

Jin Guangyao left the living man and the dead one alone to fetch one. He arrived only a moment later with a carnelian colored pouch. Xue Yang slid his Daozhang onto a bed and then accepted the pouch with shaking hands. He performed the ritual and summoned the rest of the spirit into the pouch.

Once he closed the clasp, he fell to his knees by the bedside. He stayed this way for only a few minutes. Then he got up and hauled the Daoist back onto his back.

Back to Yi City...They needed to get back.

Jin Guangyao opened the door for them wordlessly and let them leave. The petite man stood in the doorway watching the friend he had not seen in three years trek back to wherever he had come from. But he knew where Xue Yang was going. Back to Hell.

Seeing it all again, Wei Wuxian felt the despair of looming failure.

After arriving back in Yi City and placing the Daoist lined in a coffin with blood talismans. Xue Yang summoned Song Lan. In a rage, he took out his dagger. The point of the blade was only a hair’s thickness away from the center of the man’s eye.

“Your fault! All Yours!!! Because of you! Do you deserve to have them?!”

The insanity that gripped him struck fast and ended just as quickly. The boy’s gripped loosened. He exhaled sharply. “Go. Gather up the villagers. You have work to do.”

“And you.” He glared at Shuanghua. “You don’t want to obey me either. Well,” he scoffed, “It’s too late for that.” Xue Yang walked back to the coffin where he laid the Daoist’s body.

Every event in Yi City was exactly as he remembered. From the moment Song Lan appeared on that fateful day to the dark night when A-Qing met her fate. Xue Yang spent weeks searching for her. Her meeting with Daozhang was prophetic. She was supposed to die, possibly beaten to death, in an alley. What she had with her family in Yi City, that was borrowed time and Xue Yang took it back.

Everything valuable. Everything worth having was gone...

Lan Zhan wasn’t here. His Shishu was gone. A-Qing dead. Song Lan dead. He felt a great rage fill him at the sight of the boy in front of him. Just a waste...An absolute waste of a human being, if he could even still be considered that.

Suddenly a strange compulsion propelled Wei Wuxian towards the coffin. He staggered closer and looked in. His hands gripped the edges of the coffin. The bluish lips transformed to a rosy shade. The sallow complexion brightened, and the inky hair softened. The hands in Xue Yang’s warmed.

“You did it!” He shouted. “You did it!” Wei Wuxian screamed. “Shishu! Shishu!”

But the man in the coffin did not move. There was no breath. There was no miracle. Xue Yang had only managed the appearance of it. The boy stayed by the coffin the entire night, gazing at the Daoist's sleeping form. He did not move.

The next day, Xue Yang began a routine. One as clockwork as he had ever seen the boy manage.

In the mornings, he researched books on Demonic Cultivation. By noon, he worked out formulas and blue prints, calculated potions, tested spells. At midnight he would peel back the coffin lid and picked up the Daoist’s cold hands, holding them in his own, and channel his own spiritual energy to the withering corpse.

This was different from what Lan Zhan had done for him. Even on the brink of death, it still was not death itself. He recounted what Zewu Jun had told him about Lan Zhan, giving him spiritual energy in his first life. He couldn’t recognize him and in complete madness, kept pushing him away.

Was it like this? Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan. He wanted his Hanguang Jun...

Every day was relatively the same as this one. Studying in the mornings, blue prints mid-morning. Noon, a meal. Midnight, the miracle. It was this period that Wei Wuxian looked forward to most. Without fail, it always reminded him of being with Lan Zhan. It was all he had.

Xue Yang set up a protective array around the Coffin Home. A-Qing’s spirit couldn’t enter and neither could Song Lan. When he needed to command him, he did it with telepathy or left the coffin home to do so.

For funds, he sent Song Lan out to kill sets of traveling villagers and have him bring back whatever meager funds they possessed. Occasionally, Xue Yang would leave during the day to buy books, but always returned before midnight to transfer Spiritual Energy to the man in the coffin.

After his first outburst at Song Lan, the boy never lost his temper at him again. At a rare juncture, he pat the man on the shoulder, similar to how Xiao Xingchen did at their first meeting in Lanling. Perhaps he recognized Song Lan’s importance to his Daozhang. Perhaps he was just lonely.

One night, Xue Yang gave twice the amount of energy compared to the previous times. He left Song Lan in front of the Coffin Home to protect it. He packed Shuanghua, covering it in a white cloth. He set off on a journey and flew on his sword.

Was it alright, to waste so much spiritual energy?

When they arrived at the Chang Clan, Wei Wuxian shook his head adamantly. Xue Yang set up a sound barrier. Without mercy, he slaughtered the rest of the clan’s descendants. No one could hear the screams aside from the boy, Wei Wuxian, and Chang Ping.

Chang Ping was the last one.

Chang Ping’s head ricocheted in all directions at the maimed remains of his family.

“Do you know what you did?” Xue Yang asked.

“I-I-”

Chang Ping had never seen this boy before, but he was afraid to say so. The boy began to unwrap the cloth around the sword. As soon as the man saw Shuanghua, his eyes widened, recognizing the blade. It was the last thing he saw before his eyes were gouged out.

Wei Wuxian sat numbly on the ground as Chang Ping was cleaved layer by layer. “Are you done!?” He asked Xue Yang. Of course the boy couldn’t hear him. He merely took the white cloth and wiped the blood off the sword.

“You should be happier now.” He said to Shuanghua. “I’ve avenged us. Let’s go home now.”

Back at the Coffin Home, he sent Song Lan away. Straight away he walked to the coffin and pushed off the lid. Instead of the regular process, he pulled Xiao Xingchen’s arms up to carry him out and into the small house.

He laid the body onto the bed and climbed onto the other side, weary. He pulled Daozhang close to him so that their foreheads were touching. Weaving their fingers together, he channeled his spiritual energy to him.

“Daozhang, you can come back now. I’ve taken care of it. No one will harm you anymore. Come back. Daozhang Song, A-Qing. We’re all waiting.”

***

Part 5: The Trip

Wei Wuxian counted the marks tallied on the Wall.

How long has it been?

How many years since his Shishu’s death?

How many years since he entered this, whatever the hell it was?

No, it was definitely Hell.

He pulled at his hair. Any time, that had NO Lan Wangji, Lan Zhan, Hanguang Jun, Lan-er gege. Or rather HAD him, but he, Wei Wuxian, couldn’t get TO him, was Hell.

“Shishu!” He cried out to the coffin. “Your bad luck has rubbed off on me. Maybe you are my mother’s biological brother? Otherwise how can ALL three of our luck be so poor!”

He banged his head on the wall. Bang. Bang. Bang.

A horse naying caught his attention. The entrance to the coffin home was open.Strange. He walked to the doors and peeked out. It was the first living thing outside of Xue Yang that he had seen in a while.

“Daozhang, it’s time to go.”

Wei Wuxian waited by the horse drawn wagon. Xue Yang placed the cultivator into the wagon. It was lined with blankets for comfort. He drew another over the man’s body.

“It’s not like he can get cold.” Wei Wuxian muttered.

He dropped the rice paper shade down and sat at the front to command the horse. They took off, out of Yi City. Wei Wuxian sat next to the young man.

They traveled for days. A similar routine as the one in the Coffin Home took place. Reading, pausing by vendors to purchase food to eat on the way, midnight, sending spiritual energy. When he was tired, he would snap his fingers, calling Song Lan to protect them. He crawled into the wagon and slept next to Xiao Xingchen.

Wei Wuxian stayed in front of the wagon, admiring the woods. He hadn’t seen trees in so long. And clear weather. The bright sun. It was so welcoming...

Yi City was always so damned foggy. He ventured out for a short distance these past few days. He had the excited nature of a child. He was so starved of adventure. Wei Wuxian frowned. He was so starved of Lan Zhan. This bright, blue sky stretching overhead was so like the ones in Cloud Recesses. Just like the name 'Lan'.

It had been 10 years...

How much longer...? Until he could have Lan Zhan back..?

The click clacking of the wagon drew him out of his thoughts. He ran back to the wagon. Xue Yang exited the carriage, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. He resumed his seat next to him and they continued the journey.

Where were they going?

On a deserted road, they traveled hundreds of Li. They turned in the courtyard of a fine house. A man they hadn’t seen in a while waited for them. He wore Sparks amidst Snow Robes, a black guaze hat, and a radiant smile with dimples.

Jin Guangyao.