Chapter Text
The first time Wei Wuxian heard about the cultivation method was after he’d lived as a rogue cultivator for about three months (he wouldn’t call it a method, specifically, however he didn’t know that much about it yet to come to any conclusion on his own). He had heard it while passing through Liyang on a night-hunt and had not thought much about it again until six months later while he was passing through a small town less than a hundred li south of Lanling.
The weather had not been forgiving, as of late. This was why Wei Wuxian was uncomfortably wet and cold. Rain had been pouring down for a solid half an hour when he found himself at the threshold of the inn. The rain hammered on the windows as Wei Wuxian grumpily requested a room to be prepared for the night, along with a hot meal.
As the innkeeper snuck away to prepare, Wei Wuxian decided on an empty table in the back corner. He shed his drenched outer robe, twirling Chenqing between his fingers as he waited.
The dining hall was half empty of patrons despite the rain pouring down outside. Four cultivators sat a few tables away from him and the only other patron was a hooded man who sat across the room.
Not much had occurred in the nine months since Wei Wuxian’s name was cleared at Guanyin Temple, beside Lan Zhan and Jin Ling assuming their new positions in the cultivation world. As far as Wei Wuxian knew, A-Yuan and Wen Ning had yet to return to the Cloud Recess from their travels in Qishan—he had not heard much from them since he and Lan Zhan parted.
Wei Wuxian downs his first cup of wine once his food arrives—a warm bowl of congee with a bottle of chili oil on the side—when the cloaked man approaches his table. Wei Wuxian glances warely at the man beneath the hood when a flicker of recognition sparks in his eyes.
“Song-xiong!” he exclaims and flies to his feet, ignoring the looks he receives from the group of cultivators at the next table, to bow. “Please sit.”
Song Zichen shoots him a close-lipped smile as he occupies the seat across from Wei Wuxian, who offers him wine and food.
“What are you doing here? Last time I saw you was at—” Wei Wuxian trails off. “— well, you know.”
Song Zichen pays the almost mention of Yi City no mind.
“I have been well,” he traces the characters on the table with his finger. “It has been a little lonely but manageable. How are you Wei-gonzi? Where is His Excellency?”
Wei Wuxian huffs a bitter laugh and downs another cup. “I’m great. Traveling the world and helping people, y’know? Not a lot of people want the Yiling Patriarch's help but the people that do have been grateful so far. Whereas Hanguang-jun—” he trails off for a second again. “I suppose he’s doing great, now that I’m not around anymore. Very busy.”
He does not find any value in mentioning the letters he now infrequently sends to Lan Zhan. When they first separated the letters had been almost daily but then loneliness set in, along with the dark nights, and days became weeks and weeks became months. He doesn’t expect a response, which is pretty obvious since Wei Wuxian moves around a lot and doesn’t exactly have an address.
The sting doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.
By now all he does is scribble something and then throw it away.
Song Zichen silently regards him for a moment before pouring another cup of wine that Wei Wuxian absently sips.
“I am sorry,” Song Zichen offers.
Wei Wuxian shrugs. “What can you do about it? He’s just trying to make the world a better place for us all.” He holds out his cup. “To us lonely cultivators.”
Song Zichen hesitates for a moment before he nods and clinks their cups together. The bitter taste of wine burns its way down Wei Wuxian’s throat and settles down in his stomach when he gets a brilliant yet possibly dangerous idea. He slams the cup down on the table and ignores the annoyed looks the other patrons shoot at him again. Song Zichen does not even flinch.
“Song-xiong!” he cries. “I have an idea!”
Song Zichen nods as if to say: ‘Go on.’
“I recently stumbled upon a piece of rumor about an old dissolved sect. According to the rumor, the Sect Leader developed a rare piece of cultivation that allowed the caster to puzzle together someone's shattered spiritual consciousness.”
Wei Wuxian glances at Song Zichen’s waist where a Qiankun pouch hangs.
“It was said that after the sect fell, the technique’s instructions were moved to a big city about a thousand li north of Leling, and was allegedly destroyed a few years later. However this seems to be a lie, if one is to trust the rumors. It might be a very long shot—maybe it really is hopeless—but I think it’s worth a try. It might actually work.”
He shoots Song Zichen, whose eyes have gone almost comically big, a long look through lowered eyelashes.
Wei Wuxian leans forward, gesturing for Song Zichen to come closer.
“Maybe we can awaken Xiao Xingchen,” he whispers.
He leans back.
“What do you say? You up for a seemingly impossible night-hunt?”
Song Zichen regains his composure and levels him with a dark stare before he gives Wei Wuxian a curt nod. The corners of Wei Wuxian’s mouth tilts up and he pours them the rest of the alcohol. He raises his cup between them and flashes Song Zichen his most awarding grin.
“To our next adventure,” he says and downs the wine once Song Zichen clinks their drinks together.
After exchanging goodnight’s with Song Zichen, a tipsy Wei Wuxian drags himself up the stairs and plops down on the soft mattress. He’s alone again and he does not particularly enjoy it.
Wei Wuxian sighs and heaves himself up on his elbows to stumble away to the empty desk.
He briefly considers writing a letter to Lan Zhan but he figures that the other will probably not have enough time to read it anyway.
Instead he picks up a talisman (well two actually) that he’s been working on and is really going to come in handy now that he’s supposed to spend the foreseeable future in Song Zichen’s silent company.
It is close to three in the morning when Wei Wuxian drops on the bed.
I really miss you Lan Zhan, he suddenly thinks.
Sleep overtakes him before he can question the reason why.
“So I've been working on a talisman for some time now,” Wei Wuxian yawns once they have eaten breakfast. He feels like he’s been run over by a cart.
“Well,” he continues. “I've been working on it since Yi City actually— yes I know,” he says to Lil’ Apple when she brays and sniffs the apple in his hand. He turns back to Song Zichen. “that will allow you to communicate to me through thoughts but you have to have it on your person at all times for it to work.”
He holds one of the talisman to Song Zichen (Wei Wuxian’s own in his Qiankun pouch), who eyes it wearily.
“ Every thought?” Song Zichen writes in the gravel.
Wei Wuxian chuckles and shakes his head. “No, only the ones you want to send me.”
“Will it work the other way?”
Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I think so—it's still untested after all—do you want to try it?”
His companion nods once and takes the offered piece of paper. He stuffs it in another Qiankun pouch and hangs it next to the one with Xiao Xingchen’s spiritual consciousness.
“Try it,” Wei Wuxian encourages.
“What do I even say?” he hears Song Zichen’s voice in the back of his mind. It feels like a thought is pushed through his head without him having any control over it. It is neither a pleasant nor unpleasant experience.
“Can you hear me?” Wei Wuxian shoots back with his mind.
”Very clearly,” comes Song Zichen’s voice. ”It is actually quite annoying.”
”Hey!” Wei Wuxian cries out loud.
Song Zichen gives him an almost smile.
Wei Wuxian sighs. ”We need to work out a way to control which thoughts we send to each other.”
”Indeed,” Song Zichen says.
Maybe I should use this on Lan Zhan as well, comes a mischievous and embarrassing thought.
”Did you hear anything?” Song Zichen says out of the blue.
”Did you think of something?”
”Obviously.”
Ah, right.
”Then no,” Wei Wuxian admits bashfully.
”Good.”
Wei Wuxian shoots him a glare.
”You’re mean,” he thinks to Song Zichen before whipping around and taking off.
He hears distant laughter in his mind.