Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’ve been a stranger.” A whine, almost. Such a childish disposition, for a man that has lived over a thousand years. Maybe more. Hua Cheng never knew, he never asked.

“I have been busy,” comes the cold reply. Too cold for the listener’s liking, it seems.

“Oh, right, saving Immortal Heaven. How could I forget?” The scorn in his tone is evident, it burns with every syllable. Hua Cheng feels scolded, truly scolded, for the first time in ages.

“You weren’t close to the Kiln,” he offers, and it’s pathetic. He’s trying to deflect, and the other knows it. He knows him like the back of his palm.

“I’d never get close to that wretched place again.” They both know that is a lie. Deflection is an art they both relish in.

“Not hungry for power, or lusting for blood, Spirit Music Taming Death?” Hua Cheng mocks, but it comes out soft. Banter.

“Not quite. Not ever,” he says, tiredness settling onto his words like ash. He looks over Hua Cheng’s shoulder, his features setting on curiosity this time around. “Is that your ‘gege’?”

Hua Cheng’s head snaps towards the bedroom door.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian mumbles, voice laced with sleep, rubbing his eyes. “Who is this person?”

“...An old friend.”

The stranger had his expression something nasty before, but now he was all smiles and pleasantries. He munched at a curly pepper Hua Cheng handed him with conviction, but, apparently, not even that could keep his mouth busy enough.

“You must be His Highness, the Crown Prince of Xianle.” A strange smile, as if he knew more than he let on. Xie Lian offered a pleasant, albeit forced smile; he picked at invisible threads on his lapel.

“That I am,” he stated, with warmth he wasn’t quite feeling.

“I’ve heard quite a lot of things about you.” His grin was less than pleasant, this time around. Mischievous.

Chill crept along Xie Lian’s back.

“Is that so? Ah…” he offered meekly. “Forgive me, but while you seem to know me, I don’t quite know you.”

“All good things, all good things,” he reassured, ignoring his inquiry.

Xie Lian’s smile froze on the edges. The aura of that person sat weird; thick, like clotted cream. Opaque. He turned to Hua Cheng, to ask with his eyes, and, as if a miracle, he felt his shoulders relax instantly, his face turn pliant. His lover showed no indication of danger. If Hua Cheng wasn’t bothered, everything had to be okay.

“Gege, I believe you’re quite familiar with him.”

“Am I?” He furrowed his brows questioningly.

“You know of the Spirit Music Taming Death?”

And instantly, Xie Lian felt a fool. The dark cultivation robes, the talismans, the crimson red eyes, that thick, permeating scent. Resentment energy flocked around him like a torrent cloud. Wei Wuxian finally grinned in earnest, as if basking in the revelation. An aptitude for the theatrics, one could say he had.

“You seem to know of the ‘Spirit Music Taming Death’, didi.” The word sat playfully on his tongue. If he were alive, it seems his cheeks would be flushing with mirth. “Call me gege.”

Hua Cheng tensed imperceptibly. Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Before he could protest, Wei Wuxian interjected again.

“Yes, why after all, one could say we’re family, in a sense. You haven’t quite married my Hong'er yet, but it’s happening, no?”

Xie Lian felt his face heat up in realisation a fraction too soon, his cheeks redden. “We haven’t…”

Wei Wuxian laughs.

“He did ask you to, albeit a bit lamely. This is why you’ve been lonely for so long, Hua Hua! Be more courteous.”

Hua Cheng rolls his eyes.

“You intercepted the skeletons.” A statement, not a question.

“Maybe. I couldn’t quite resist; you’ve waited for this one for an 800 years, Hong'er. I had to see with my own two eyes when you would blow it.” He leaned in to elbow him, grinning. “And make sure it wasn’t anything permanent.”

“You were just curious.” It would be an accusation, if it hadn’t been put so plainly. Simply.

“Haha! Why yes, I was. Quite an interesting figure, your gege is. Even back in Xianle.”

“You were in Xianle?” Xie Lian asks, surprised. He hadn’t heard anything of the Spirit Music Taming Death until much later.

“That’s where I met Hong'er.” And that was where Xie Lian finally took note of the strange name. It was awfully familiar, but he hadn’t heard anyone else call Hua Cheng by that before. Not in a very long time. “You didn’t have fancy names for ghost kings, back then. Until White No-Face, that is.” His face sours for all but a moment, but turns back quickly to the roguish, pleased demeanour of before. “Everyone can agree, though, my name is quite fancier. Comes from being first, I would say, but Hong'er has quite a delicate one, himself.”

Spirit Music Taming Death seemed to be far more loquacious than the stories would indicate. Xie Lian smiled lukewarmly, trying to wrap his head around the incredible familiarity Spirit Music Taming Death appeared to share with Hua Cheng, while keeping up with his rambling. San Lang had never mentioned him.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng asks, bringing him back to reality.

“Mm?”

“Is everything okay?” His face is mild, his voice gentle.

“Oh? Yes, yes, everything is fine.” Xie Lian gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“I neglected to mention him to you, my apologies to gege.” He inclines his head slightly.

He hit the nail right in the head.

“You didn’t tell him anything about me? How cruel, Hua Hua!” cries Wei Wuxian, indignant. “Of course he’d be startled, idiot.” He bonks him on the head, not without strength. Hua Cheng leans forward with the hit, maybe to disperse its power. Xie Lian’s mouth hangs slightly ajar, his eyes rounder with shock.

“San Lang was too neglectful. I will accept any sort of scolding gege wants to put out,” says Hua Cheng, disregarding Wei Wuxian entirely, turning pointedly to speak to Xie Lian. “It doesn’t matter to San Lang.”

Wei Wuxian snorts at the display.

“They grow so fast. There he goes, ignoring me completely. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you sooner, myself, His Highness the Crown Prince, but I don’t think it would’ve sat well with Hong'er. And I don’t really meddle in affairs where gods are involved, no offence.”

“...none taken.” It made sense. Spirit Music Taming Death was a particularly powerful ghost king. That fact doesn’t meld well with Heaven.

“Do you have any more of these?” He waves the munched on stalk of the pepper. “Maybe spicier ones?”

“We’re all out. What a shame. I guess you’ll have to be over another time,” says Hua Cheng, an amused grin on his features.

“This isn’t a way to treat an esteemed guest, Hua Hua!”

“Who said anything about you being esteemed? You broke into the mansion in the middle of the night, like a common burglar.” Hua Cheng leans on Xie Lian, crossing his arms. He seems to still be incredibly nonchalant about people walking into his mansion.

“Common burglar! The nerve! Well, I’ll have you know, your wards need work. You’re being lazy,” says Wei Wuxian, crossing his arms indignantly, but almost triumphantly.

“Then I’ll leave them in your care.” A sly smile.

Grumbling, Wei Wuxian rises up, and moves out fluidly, like smoke plume, mumbling all the way.

Chapter Text

The moment Wei Wuxian disappears into the corridor, Hua Cheng turns to Xie Lian, smiling agreeably.

“Ask away, gege.”

“San Lang has known this person for a very long time?”

“Very long, indeed. He was drawn to me, back in Xianle. He fed off of the resentment energy I attracted. That is, before gege saved me.”

“I have to admit, I don’t know much about him. I know he has the ability to control spirits and fierce corpses?”

“Any sort of dead creature, he can control. Theoretically, that includes Supremes,” he says, answering Xie Lian’s question before it was asked. “His weapon of choice is Chenqing; that black dizi he has on his person, with the red tassel and jade ornament. Frankly, I’m not sure he needs it anymore, but he insists on carrying it around, playing when he’s bored. The eerie tune is said to strike fear in the hearts of men.”

“You seem to be close.” Xie Lian’s eyes beamed into little crescents, his words brimmed with warmth. Surprised or not, he loved to see his San Lang hold other people dear, too.

“He helped me be strong, be of use to gege.”

“You don’t have to be of use to me, San Lang.” Resolutely. Xie Lian holds his hand, entwines their fingers. The coolness associated with his lover’s skin always reminded him how beautiful it was that he was still there, that he stayed.

“Gege is too kind.” He smiles.

Xie Lian cups his face with his other hand, and leans in for a small, chaste kiss. He feels Hua Cheng smile into it, his lopsided smile that he oh so adores. They part, and Xie Lian could as well be holding the whole starry sky in his eyes.

“Ah, gege naturally is beautiful.” Hua Cheng smiles his dazzling smile, and Xie Lian feels his feet turn to jelly.

“Aww, what a charming display.”

No other than Wei Wuxian leans on the doorframe, a hand on his hips, fiddling with his flute. Xie Lian blushes crimson, Hua Cheng laughs.

“You haven’t learnt how to knock, er-gege?” says Hua Cheng, feigning indignation.

“It’s been so many years since I’ve had a door, it slipped my mind, didi.” He laces his words with ample irony. “I could go now?” he continues, pointing at the door, blinking slowly like a simpleton.

“Sure, sure. You need to rectify your mistake,” nods Hua Cheng, deadly serious.

Wei Wuxian closes the door and knocks politely, three times. Not too soft, not too hard.

Hua Cheng wraps an arm around Xie Lian’s waist.

“We’re busy! Come back another time.” Playfulness evident in his tone.

“Hua Hua!” cries Wei Wuxian, sounding hurt, betrayed.

“Stop teasing him, San Lang,” says Xie Lian, amused by their antics, but taking pity on the strange ghost. No one would have thought he’s half as scary as the scarce stories that do exist about him make him seem.

“My gege is courteous enough to allow you in, Wei Ying,” announces Hua Cheng, with the air of a royal ambassador. It is rather funny, so much so that Xie Lian’s ribs hurt from holding back laughter.

“Where’s your manners?” Wei Wuxian retorts, slamming the door open. “It’s Wei gege for you, pipsqueak.” He all but spits the arguably very mild insult.

“Best I can do is er-gege,” continues Hua Cheng, unaffected.

“Ah. How cruel.” He places a hand on his heart, as if he’s aching. “There always comes the time they leave the nest.” As Wei Wuxian continues his tirade, Hua Cheng turns to Xie Lian and rolls his eyes. Xie Lian loves the atmosphere, so carefree and comfortable.

“You’ve known each other for a very long time, I take it?” Xie Lian asks, curious to see what Wei Ying has to say.

“Eons,” comes the calmer reply, and Wei Wuxian sits himself at the table again, shifting his weight ever so often. Like an overly energetic child. “I found him very easily; he was exuding resentment energy; I’m guessing he told you all about me, so I won’t explain,” he says, and Xie Lian smiles awkwardly. “You dispersed it, you know; he needed a saviour figure, and you sufficed.”

“...huh?”

“The Star of Solitude. Since he met you, the evil energy was dispersed, and his luck shifted into extremes again. Just the opposite side. I was merely trying to treat some of the symptoms; you were the cure.”

Hua Cheng’s face is serious; a warning to not continue. “You weren’t around just because I was an easy meal?”

“You wish, Hong Hong’er; I took pity on you. You reminded me of someone.”

An uneasy silence settles among them. Things that had been left unsaid crept into the surface all too rapidly, and Xie Lian, the outsider, had nowhere safe to let his eyes rest upon.

“Your Highness, I see where your charms lie. You make people talk too easily, ah. Take good care of my Hong’er; Heaven knows you both need it.” He stands up. “I won’t bother you any longer, but I expect an invitation to your wedding.”

He turns to leave, and stops.

Without turning around, he addresses Xie Lian.

“That martial god, Hanguang-Jun, how is he?”

Xie Lian startles.

“He is doing well. His palace was just reconstructed.”

From where he’s sitting, Xie Lian can see a bitter smile.

“Ah, I see. Good. May he be well.”

And he walks out.

Chapter Text

“Let me see that wound you have.” Resolute. Commandeering.

“No!” the child cries, hiding his bandage with both hands.

“I have to see it, little one. How is it going to get better?”

“No! No! No!” he cried, cradling his head, turning away to run.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait.” The man grasps the child by the collar. Vigorous, the lot of it. It won’t let go of his eye, and it keeps trying to bite him, with ferocious force.

He uses his soft voice, trying to placate him. “Are you afraid it will hurt?”

No response.

“What’s wrong with it? Gege can help, if you let me.”

“It’s ugly,” the child finally mumbles, tears forming in his uncovered eye. “It’s disgusting.” He looks down dejectedly.

“Oh, that’s all? You want to see disgusting?” Roguish. He opens his robe, and shows him a scar in the shape of the sun, a brand.

“That’s not disgusting!” protests the child. “That’s the sun! It’s pretty!”

“You’re not squeamish, are you?” he sighs, thinking. “Well, how about this?”

He pulls on his left trouser leg, and shows him a gash, festering. The child peeps in fear.

“See? Gege has this on his person, he won’t judge. Show me your eye.” He lets him down and covers the mirage of the wound, half convinced the child will walk away.

He doesn’t.

Slowly, he uncovers the dirty bandages to show a brilliant red eye, and looks away in shame.

“That’s it?” comes the disinterested reply.

The child’s head snaps up to see the stranger’s face. All he can find is softness.

“Is gege ugly? Is he disgusting? Deformed?”

The child shakes his head.

“Look at my eyes.”

The child finds the same brilliant red he’s been hiding, and stares in awe.

“If you want to keep hiding, that’s fine. Your bandages better be clean, though, or gege will bite your ear!”

Beaming, the child nods resolutely, and wraps his face back up. He runs back home, his heart light.

“Child.”

Hong'er looked up at the handsome stranger, if not a bit apprehensively. He nursed the flower for the god protectively, as if the stranger would snatch it. Not that he’d have any use for it. It was a weed, a wretched little thing, not befitting of the statue. Still, he wanted something to offer.

“You want to protect him?” he says again, gesturing with his head towards the statue, his eyes never leaving Hong'er. His crimson red eyes.

Hong'er nods resolutely.

“Then you must be strong.”

The pathetic, lonesome wails tore through the night. Anguish. No one could have thought so much anguish could be contained in a single child. Like a wounded animal, he rubbed at his eyes, bandaged and not, sobbing into his tiny palms.

“Does it hurt?” comes a soft, gentle question. That handsome stranger is, again, there, kneeling in front of Hong'er. He takes his tiny hands away from his face, and gives him an once over. Assesses the wounds.

"Do you want to learn how to wrap them?" Affectionate. Hong’er hadn’t heard anyone talk to him like this since mother died.

The child nods once, sniffling.

The stranger takes a clean set of bandages and two vials from his sleeve.

"Look closely. This is wine. It will sting. You're strong enough to take it, right?"

Hong'er nods.

"Good boy. Hold my hand."

Hong'er sneaks his hand into the bigger palm shyly. It's cool, like a spring stream. The stranger pours wine over his wounds, and Hong'er bites his lip, trembling.

"Good, good. Look how well behaved. Now, this is oil. It'll make it feel better."

He dabs it with a cloth around the wounds, taking care not to hurt the boy, gentle. A smell like roses wafts into the air, and Hong’er is distracted.

"Just like my A-Yuan. Now, look. This one you have to do by yourself, okay? Pay close attention. You take this piece of cloth, this bandage, and wrap it around the place that’s hurt. Like so. Do you understand?” He speaks slowly, carefully, making sure he follows. Hong’er nods, looking down at it with utmost concentration. The stranger smiles, and Hong’er feels warm.

“Such a bright young lad. Get better, and Xian-gege will bury you in the ground, and you’ll grow up big and strong.”

Hong’er looks up at him with adoration. So, that’s his name. Xian-gege. That’s who’ll help him be strong for his god.

A black clad figure loiters over him, sits upon the tree Hong’er is abusing. Or rather, trying to abuse, with his fists. Droplets of red run down the bark of the tree, vermilion tears, like someone is carving the tree to destruction and it bleeds, bleeds like a human being.

“Look what you did to your poor hands.” A voice comes from above, condescending.

Hong’er growls, tries to swing at him. He’s too far, high up. He laughs, cruelly. Bored, he slides off the tree, hits the ground soundlessly.

Hong’er swings again.

The person dodges easily, with grace.

“You got booted off the army?” he asks, something incomprehensible in his tone.

“Yes!” A fierce cry, as if the whole world wronged this tiny child. Maybe it had.

“Good.”

Hong’er glares at him through misty eyes, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. His red eye adds to the image.

“You can’t be of service to him like this, child. You are young. Slight. He is a god. Stay home, and believe in him. That’s all you should do.” He sounded… what Hong’er thought an actual father might sound like.

Hong’er had no sympathy for that.

“You don’t-”

“What? Don’t understand? War is no place for children, I would know. You think you have the world at your feet, but a life is slight, and snuffed easily. Trust me, I’ve died twice.” His tone is chilled, his stance fluid yet angular. Powerful.

A chill runs down Hong’er’s spine.

“You are…”

“I am.” Resolute. Not caring for the fear of the child. Maybe it fed from it, Hong’er couldn’t know. He made the sign against evil behind his back.

“That is not going to protect you, child. Not from me. What’s your name?”

“...Hong’er.” There was ample reason to deny the monster this. Hong’er had no idea why, though, but he couldn’t bring himself to fear him for long.

“Hong Hong’er. Like mine.” He tilts his chin up, showing his eyes.

“You’d said I have to be strong,” he accuses, though it sounds more of a plea than something that could bite. “You said to protect him, I’d have to be strong.”

“I said so, yes. But you are no cultivator. You are no soldier. You are not strong. Don’t throw your life away because of an ideal. He’s young, too, your god. He’s just getting his first taste of despair.” Cruel, cruel, miserable. Each word is a knife.

“Shut up!” His voice gets hoarse from the shouting, from the unshed tears.

“My quiet won’t help your cause, Hong’er. Go home. Don’t die in battle.”

That was the last time Wei Wuxian saw him alive.

Chapter Text

The Kiln was opening again, and Wei Wuxian was too curious to not explore. Maybe vanquish the greedier ones, accumulate some power. He had to protect the Burial Mounds. Frankly, he was toying with the idea of passing through the trial, again. After Black Water emerged, even though he kept to his own for the most part, Wei Ying feared for his family. The remnants of it, at least. Wen Qing would’ve said he’s being stupid and reckless, but Wen Qing wasn’t here right now. Chenqing on his lips, he guided a bunch of corpses to slaughter each other, and his control grew sharper with the destruction, the resentment maturing his powers, honing them. Advancing deeper towards the mountain, he heard screams. That, on its own, shouldn’t have been peculiar, but the screams were warm, breaths of life.

Humans. Trapped. Children.

Wei Wuxian glided effortlessly through the uneven terrain, throwing out talismans to keep his path steady from the meddling of the mountain. There, he saw it. A young spirit, a sliver of a consciousness, standing in front of the flock of humans, who were trembling like terrified sheep. So slight, it seemed a gust of powerful wind could dissolve it away. Wei Wuxian observed, seeing if it could bring itself to do what had to be done. He saw it move; brought the flute to his lips, to prevent the sacrifice. But the spirit looked up resolutely, and with an awful cry, he gouged his eye out and formed a scimitar, using it to fight the monsters.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes settled on every feature, every curve on that face, the posture, the stance, the form finally stabilised. He knew that little ghost, he was certain.

He let him fight the battle he had the right to win. When he was done, heaving from the effort, Wei Wuxian stepped towards him.

The spirit pointed his new sabre at him, resolute to fight to the end.

“There is no need for that. You did well today, Hong’er.”

“...Xian-gege?” The realisation slow, as if swimming in tar. He must be confused, terrified, in pain.

“Flesh and blood. Take these humans away. I will hold the Kiln open for you.”

“...why?” Suspicious. Seemed he held his trust only for that god of his.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the teeth! Go!” said he, a bit harsher than intended. The resentment energy was messing with his brain, giving him a sole purpose, kill, kill, kill. He turned away, and started playing a calming tune, one from a long, long time ago. Hong’er took a fresh breath, and walked the humans towards salvation.

“You gave up heaven to be like this? How stupid, Hua Hua.” Wei Wuxian leans on the trunk of an ancient tree, picking leaves off of a branch.

“I was wondering when you would show up.” His mouth in a slight sneer, refusing to look at him. Eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I’m always around. I have nothing better to do, and all of eternity to do it.” Wei Wuxian gestures with the tiny branch at the world, as if that small wave were able to explain everything.

“While I have important business to do, so, if you’ll excuse me,” says he, and his walking becomes more brisk, as if trying to outrun him but not putting particular effort into it.

“What kind of business?” he asks, walking effortlessly alongside him, complete disregard for the other’s annoyance.

“Vengeance.” Resolute. Absolute.

“Over whom?” asks Wei Wuxian, materialising an apple from Heaven knows where and taking a bite.

“You’ll see.” Animosity evident in his tone.

“You’re taking it up with heaven?” If one didn’t know the language, they would’ve thought Wei Wuxian was gossipping about the neighbour’s girl.

Hua Cheng turns to look at him, slowly.

“Ha! Knew it. Did you regret not becoming a god?” The same conspiratorial tone.

“Never,” comes the adamant reply.

“Then?” Genuinely puzzled.

“I don’t believe it’s your business,” says Hua Cheng, almost indifferent.

“How cruel, Hua Hua! You grew up to be so cold.”

He rolls his eyes.

“We can talk once I’m done with this.”

“Seems like I won’t have to hear it from you.” He stops walking, lets him move forward. “All the luck with your journey.” Though the wish was superfluous. It seemed the universe owed this, now ghost king, all the luck he lacked when he was a little child.

“You bet your ashes for that, Hong’er? Arrogance becomes you.” A beguiling smile settling on his features.

“Nothing better to do, still? Don’t you have a family to protect?” he ignores the statement, mimicking his stance.

“Aww, you had time in between the arson to look into poor old me?” He has the nerve to look flattered.

“The Yiling Patriarch. Nothing more than a myth, now.”

“No one’s called me that in a very long time. Now it’s Spirit Music Taming Death, but I guess you knew that. I’ll always be Xian-gege to you, don’t worry.” He tiptoes to pat Hua Cheng’s head, grinning from ear to ear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, without malice.

“How disrespectful to your elders!” Wei Wuxian admonishes, never losing his grin. “What else did you find out? I’m curious.”

“Well, you’ve died twice...” he says, feigning thoughtfulness.

“Very well, very well,” he interrupts, raising his hands. “I changed my mind; don’t tell me any more; I fancy the fuzziness those memories have. They are none too pleasant. No one’s a ghost because they lead happy lives, no?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Did you find your god?” Wei Wuxian knew the Crown Prince was cast from heaven, spectacularly so. He also knew that couldn’t have sat well with his Hong’er.

No response.

“Chin up; the world might be big, but what do we have, if not time?” He doesn’t offer to help. He knows Hua Cheng would despise it.

Still no response.

“You know where to find me, should you be lonely. May your journey be blessed, Hong Hong’er.”

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng hadn’t had the luxury to think of anything else but Xie Lian, since his lonely god finally made an appearance. He never thought he could be blessed with having him be his, he merely thought he would be allowed to follow along his side, like a thankless shadow. Now that his deepest desires had come true, quite against what he thought would be allowed, he began to think. Think about Wei Wuxian. He knew that martial god, Hanguang-Jun, was a sore subject. Hua Cheng was not stupid. He knew the stories of the Yiling Patriarch as well as the back of his palm. He knew how ruthless, how savage, how unhinged he could be. He knew that cultivator tamed him. He knew they got married, against the wishes of everyone alive, and they lived a happy, peaceful life. That was where the legend ended. That was where Spirit Music Taming Death began. That, though, was where the peculiarity began. What kept him tethered in the mortal world if he’d lived a peaceful death? The god ignored his existence. Was it just vengeance? Wouldn’t he have enacted it, thus far? Why was’t he with his long lost love? And why, for the past hundreds of years since Black Water had infiltrated heaven, had he been asking over this Hanguang-Jun with thinly veiled wistfulness?

Hands around his back snapped him from his reverie. Xie Lian hugged him from behind, burying his face between his shoulder blades. He felt the corners of his mouth tug up.

“San Lang, is something wrong?” Soft, concerned. It makes warmth spread through Hua Cheng.”

“Nothing is wrong, I didn’t mean to worry gege.” Apologetic.

“Maybe I could share your troubles?” He gently pushes his hair to nestle against the other side of his neck, to kiss at the exposed skin.

“I was thinking about Wei Ying.”

“Spirit Music Taming Death?”

“Mm. That’s his name.”

“Ah, I see. What were you thinking about?”

“Do you want me to sit down, gege? Because you can’t quite reach me like this,” says he, with a roguish smirk.

“San Lang!” His face flushes crimson, and Hua Cheng loves his god more with every second passing.

“Do you know the legends of the Yiling Patriarch?” he finally says, settled with him in his arms in the bed.

“The one who created the Stygian amulet?” Xie Lian asks, playing with his lover’s fingers, pinching, caressing. It makes him smile.

“That’s the one. They’re the same person. His territory is in what used to be Yiling, with every ghost that doesn’t want to pass. Particularly children. He’d lived a tormented first life, but, when he was summoned into someone else’s body, he found happiness. As such, I can’t help but wonder why he lingers in this world. Maybe the legends are wrong, or maybe there’s something missing.” He bites his lip absentmindedly.

“He found happiness, you say?” Xie Lian thumbs his lip free.

“He was married to that official he asked you about. Their stories speak of their love, strong like an oak tree.”

“And now they don’t speak to each other.” Xie Lian thinks for a while. “Maybe we shouldn’t meddle.”

“Whatever gege wishes.” Subservient, almost.

“Then again, isn’t love important?” says Xie Lian, adorably pursing his lips.

“Fairly important,” Hua Cheng agrees, reaching to kiss his lover’s head.

“And Xian-gege, you said?” he stops himself to ask. Hua Cheng smiles. Ever so playful.

“Wei Wuxian. He keeps calling himself Xian-gege.”

“And Wei Wuxian seemed so forlorn when he mentioned him. Maybe I should go talk to this official. See if I can learn anything. Do you think you can handle your er-gege?” A playful smile.

“Gege, how cruel.” Hua Cheng leans back into the pillows, a wronged expression on his features. Spoiled, Xie Lian knows he’s spoilt him rotten.

“San Lang knows him better, it’s not my fault. And we can’t have you terrorising Heaven again; give them some breathing room,” he admonishes, cuddling closer to him.

“If gege thinks this is better, San Lang had better but obey.” He gives him a slight, obsequious bow, almost a nod.

Xie Lian swats him with a pillow, and he laughs.

“I’m being serious!”

“Sorry, sorry. I will deal with him, rest assured.” He leans in to capture his lips into a kiss that’s far from chaste, and Xie Lian all but falls on him, entranced.

“Yeah… I’ll rest assured.”

“Xian er-ge.” Skittish, full of mirth.

“Oh no, you want something. Spit it out before I bite your pointy ear.” Wei Wuxian wags a finger as menacingly as a grinning individual can muster.

“His Highness wonders what business you have with that martial god, Hanguang-Jun.”

“Oh.” His posture changes, defensive. “And you didn’t know, to tell him?”

“I know some, but not enough to satisfy his curiosity. He worries for you.” It is evident Hua Cheng thinks there’s no point to it, but what gege wants, gege will have, apparently.

“Worries, huh? Your lover better not busy himself with things that aren’t in his immediate interest,” Wei Wuxian warns, picking up his flute to fidget with the tassel.

“I’ve told him so many times, but it’s one of the things he won’t listen to me on.” Mock exasperation.

Wei Wuxian laughs.

“I have no business with that martial god, anymore, is what you should tell your prince. And he had better not stir any trouble. I’d ask if he doesn’t know ghosts and gods aren’t supposed to mingle, but it would fall on deaf ears.”

“Quite so.”

Wei Wuxian waits, but Hua Cheng doesn’t move an inch.

“Anything else?”

“Gege won’t be satisfied with just that; he knows you’re married.”

“And what is he, a matchmaker? We were married, is more correct. Can you imagine, a ghost and a god, married? I don’t fancy being the centre of attention again, like you two. Let people be busy with the new Cowherd and Weaver girl, making their own bridge of jade, to sit on for eternity. I’m done.”

And he disappears in a wisp of black smoke.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian kicks a poor pebble angrily. There are things that had better not be remembered. Things better not stirred. He jumps on a tree, and lies on a sturdy branch; although he supposes it doesn’t matter, anymore. Can’t kill what’s already dead. He closes his eyes, and brings the flute to his lips; stops. Hands trembling, he unties his hair ribbon, and wraps it in front of his eyes. Then brings Chenqing in his lips again, setting himself at annihilating a third of the mountain's prey. This is the right scene. This is how it'd happened.

“Lan Zhan, look, look, a wrinkle! I’m finally wise.” Wei Wuxian sounded more enthusiastic than he felt. He pointed in between his eyebrows happily, trying to dispel the clamminess that took over his palms, the heavy pulsing of his heart. His love was still immaculate; his face carved of jade.

If one didn’t know Lan Wangji too closely, he wouldn’t have noticed a difference. But someone like Wei Ying would know.

“I know. I should cultivate more, I know. This core has no potential of ever being half as strong as yours, though, Lan er-gege. Why go through boring lectures and sword postures,” that he was able to do with ease in his other life, “when I can spend all of my time with. You.” He straddles him slowly, sensually, but Lan Wangji’s hands are steady on his hips. Stopping him.

“Wei Ying.”

“Everyday is everyday, Lan er-gege. Or have you forgotten?”

Lan Zhan never forgets. And Wei Ying can relax.

“Lan Zhan! It took me so long to find you, too long if you ask me-” Wei Ying moves to hug his husband, his love, and he… takes a step back.

The sound of the drag of metal against metal.

A blade points to Wei Wuxian’s throat, unyielding.

“Monster.”

“It’s just some blood, I’ll clear it away for you-” You can’t. You’re not a Supreme. “I can’t, but, I promise, I stayed here for you-”

Lan Wangji pulls out a cinnabar talisman. Wei Wuxian can feel it humming; dispel evil. He wants to disperse him, to get him to move on? He can’t have that. He absolutely can’t have that.

“No, Lan Zhan. I want this. I want to be with you. Only you.”

It fell on deaf ears. Lan Zhan threw the talisman, and Wei Ying felt it scratch his metaphorical back. He’d missed by a hair. Determined to make him see right, he disappeared into the forest. For some reason, he wasn’t followed.

“Hanguang-Jun.”

The now Supreme opened his arms, as if he was showing himself off.

“What do you think? Aren’t I pretty?” An unsettling grin. “If I’m not, I can be something else for you. Anything you ask.”

“What are you?” he asks through gritted teeth. The resentment energy he was exuding was nothing like what Lan Wangji had ever seen before.

“Powerful. Strong. Able to stand beside you, see? Those,” he points at the talisman Lan Wangji almost throws, “are nothing but a mere nuisance to me, now. I’ve been through trials, years and years of yearning, for you. Where’s your everyday? Come give us a hug.”

He takes a step forward, and Lan Wangji unsheathes Bichen with a clang.The blade hums, stifled by all the demonic interference. Lan Wangji’s eyes widen imperceptibly.

“You’d hurt your husband?”

No response.

“Look at me. Isn’t it still me? It’s more than me; I’ve gotten rid of Mo Xuanyu’s body. I’m what I should be. Maybe that’s why; you liked me like that more? Here.” Black plumes of smoke appear out of nowhere, and Mo Xuanyu’s face grins at him, shorter now. “Here! All me.”

A dull thump reverberates through his body, and another, and another. Talismans. Useless, pathetic talismans. Wei Wuxian walks slowly, surely, and pleads with him with his eyes. He reaches him, tears carving his face, the blade firm on his neck, and speaks with a broken voice.

“You’d hurt me?”

Something inside Lan Wangji breaks. He withdraws his sword, and runs into the night like the hunted.

Wei Wuxian’s ribbon, there on the tree, on his face, is tear stained.

“Hanguang-Jun, is it?” Xie Lian chirped pleasantly, approaching the man that could as well have been sculpted out of jade, with an almost sense of reverence. His expression was stony, but not cold. Distant, as if unaffected by his surroundings. What an immortal truly should be.

“It is.” Simple. It seemed he wasn’t much for conversations. That would make it a tad too difficult.

“Has your palace been set in order?” Conversationalist.

“Yes,” comes the simple, concise reply.

“And your officials are all safe, I presume?” Still polite, still trying.

“Yes.” His efforts weren’t appreciated.

“Nothing of value lost?” A final try.

That makes Lan Wangji pause for a moment.

“Nothing.”

“Maybe I could help you with restoring it? I’m-” Not particularly good with mending things. “I have a lot of spirit!”

“No need. Nothing lost.” Almost terrifyingly simple. It didn’t even carry the want to discourage; he just relayed information that way.

“Ah… And your territory? Your followers?” Xie Lian blabbers along, running out of things to ask.

“All in order. Something you require?” comes the question, finally.

Xie Lian pauses for a brief moment, to collect himself.

“Wei Ying… he asked of you.” His voice is careful, not to stir anger, shame, or whatever it was he could feel. Something flashes briefly in the man’s eyes, the first expression since the beginning of that failed conversation, but it’s quickly snuffed out.

“Who?"

Chapter Text

“Wei Ying? Wei Wuxian?” Xie Lian asks, a hint of desperation evident in his voice.

“...Spirit Music Taming Death?” Lan Wangji tries, the name ringing slightly familiar.

“That’s the one,” he replies, a bit relieved.

“He speaks of me again?” He frowns. Xie Lian looks at him better, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“He has. An obsession. With me. Guessing it’s the resentful energy, messing with his head," he grits his teeth, an indescribable emotion settling on his features.

“You believe so?” More astonished than he should have been. It was a perfectly valid guess.

“I see no other way,” comes the reply, simple and short.

"He says you were married," says Xie Lian carefully, since he knows what an accusation that would be to another heaven official. Other than him, that is.

"He is mistaken." Just a rebuttal. Plain and clear as water. Xie Lian wonders if there's something wrong with the man.

"Are you certain?" he presses, crossing his arms behind his back.

There, Lan Wangji pauses. Just for a slight moment. And that's all Xie Lian needs.

"You're not. You're not certain,” he says as if it’s a revelation, as if he’s uncovering something important.

"I should be. He has every reason to covet a place in Heaven." Again, he’s right. San Lang had had a spy in the heavens; information like that would be invaluable.

"Yet something doesn't seem right. I saw him, Hanguang-Jun, he wasn't lying."

"..."

"Have you checked if you're possessed?"

A nod. "No signs of demonic possession."

"Has anyone tampered with your memories?"

"No evidence of it, either."

"Maybe San Lang could check. He knows- he knows his way around a lot of problems," he offers with a veiled sense of urgency.

A mere look, but Xie Lian understands, words not spoken.

“...he reminds me of what it would feel like if I lost San Lang,” he replies to the unsaid question, looking slightly to the left, embarrassed.

Lan Wangji looks at him for a while, his expression an enigma, as always. Just as Xie Lian wants to break the awful silence, he speaks.

“I will come.”

“Gege! You’re back.”

Xie Lian takes his hand in his. Lan Wangji is all but ignored.

“I found the person I was telling you about. She waits in the lobby. Intact," Hua Cheng says, almost proud. Quite the queer sight, but Lan Wangji says nothing.

“Oh, that is… good to hear, haha." Xie Lian looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I brought Hanguang-jun, myself," he snaps back into focus again.

Hua Cheng doesn’t move to acknowledge him.

“This way.” He guides them across the meandering mansion, to an ornate, red door, with golden finishes.

The room is furnished somewhat elaborately; a sitting room. In its middle, seemingly meditating, sits a ragged, dirty ghost. Thin as a bamboo stalk, her joints look enlarged, as if they'd pop at any moment. Her neck is enclosed in a collar of chains. She wears no shoes. Her nails are blueish, unhealthy. On the footsteps of the strangers entering the unfamiliar place, she raises her head, and grins something terrible.

“You, again. It has been a very long time.” Her voice is as ragged as her appearance, raspy with disuse.

“Huh?” Xie Lian is puzzled for a moment, but only a moment.

“Do you know me?” Lan Wangji says, his tone like steel, and Xie Lian knows.

“Why yes, I do. We’d made a trade quite a while ago.” She mocks him openly, resting a bony hand on her cheek.

Hua Cheng looks smug.

"What kind of trade?" Wangji continues in the same tone, but a hint of urgency comes through, easy to be missed.

"It's natural that you wouldn't remember. I deal in memories, godling. You were my finest work." She relishes for a moment, as if pleased with herself.

Unrest. Barely veiled unrest. "What did you do?"

"Why should I tell you?" she mocks again, hostile.

"Because you're in my territory, and gege wants to see this to the end," Hua Cheng interjects, his expression barely threatening. He looks bored, but everyone in that room knows better.

The woman swallows, and continues rapidly, in a rushed manner, all thoughts of hostility forgotten.

"Your beloved was dying. He wasn't immortal, like you. His core was too weak. He fell sick. You abandoned everything, searched far and wide for a cure, and heard of my abilities. You didn't care for the price, whatever it took, you would give. So I took it. I took your most precious memories, in return for him to exist in this world. I'm the only reason his spirit didn't disperse when he died. But the stubborn clinging? That was all him. In a way, I'm proud. I had something to do with the most powerful ghost king."

Oddly, Hua Cheng says nothing.

Lan Wangji's face is unreadable.

"You're lying." An desperate accusation, even to his own ears.

"I have not the guts to lie in front of Hua Chengzhu. What I've said is truth absolute," says she gravely.

He remains motionless for a long time. Xie Lian wants to say something, but everything falls flat, stops before it leaves his lips. He reaches blindly for Hua Cheng's hand, and his beloved takes it, squeezing reassuringly.

The doors open with a bang, disrupting the scene. The temperature drops, and plumes of dark smoke, thick like tar, enter the room. A figure bursts in, eyes shining red, clutching a black flute like a vice.

"Who told you to interfere, Crimson Rain Sought Flower?" His voice could freeze hell and heaven over. His hair floats with resentment, resentment so thick that makes Xie Lian dizzy. Next to him, Hua Cheng's eyes go wide.

Wei Wuxian surveys the room, seeing nothing else but the mourning robes and the object of his fury. He turns to Hua Cheng with renewed vengeance. "Who. Told you. To interfere." He brings his flute to his lips.

And Hua Cheng freezes.

Chapter Text

Powerful notes flurried in the air in succession, the resentment around Wei Wuxian rising like fire. An impressive amount of wreath butterflies flooded the room, and started making shrill sounds, trying to drown the music. Hua Cheng frowns. Wei Wuxian’s spell was too complex, too intricate to be drowned by sound alone. Hua Cheng was almost being pulled by it, shaped by it, if not for his lover was providing him with a steady flow of spiritual energy. The ghost lady had no such charity; the bubbling smoke took her, drove her into a frenzy. Her goal was only one, now, one and the same with Wei Wuxian’s furious mind; Hua Cheng. She cried a visceral cry, and launched herself at him. Countless butterflies arose to keep her at bay, but not harm her. Xie Lian looked at his lover in alarm, feeling animosity he never knew he could feel towards him rise plain as day, clear as sky. How was that…?

“San… Lang?”

Lan Wangji frowned. The sound snapped his concentration like a thread, and he became aware of how his own spiritual energy was furiously circulating, how his every muscle was tense. He considered himself to be rather a powerful martial god, yet the resentment this being was commandeering was eliciting a violent response. Bichen was singing. He drew it, and with a swift movement, lunged at the offender, but fell against an invisible wall. He slashed, and slashed, but nothing got through.

Hua Cheng, now on his knees, looked up at the struggling god. He smiled, somewhat amused, despite the situation.

“Call him by his name. He’ll hear you.”

Lan Wangji frowned, but complied.

“Spirit Music Taming Death!”

No response. His eyes were as glassy as before. Lan Wangji turned to Hua Cheng, annoyed, only to see him roll his eyes.

“That’s not the name he’ll hear from you, idiot. Call him Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji felt somewhat stupid, but he tried. He mustered all the sternness he could, and shouted:

“Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian stirred. He looked at the source of the sound, still playing.

Lan Wangji tried again, moving closer, feeling a shift in the energy. This time, the barrier wasn’t there. He marched on through the thick fog, and grasped at the flute with pulsing energy.

“Wei Ying. Stop.” Silence crackled like thunder. He fed him spiritual energy, to fight the resentment away. He wrapped his arms around him, maximising the surface area, surprised. Wei Wuxian did not move to shove him away, he patiently let him weaken him, bring him down.

Xie Lian felt it immediately. The oppressive hold hovering over him was slowly lifting. He rushed to Hua Cheng, taking him in his arms.

“San Lang? San Lang, are you okay?” he inquired madly, rapidly, holding his face, inspecting him.

Hua Cheng laughs.

“I’m fine, gege. Were you worried?” he teases, failing not to seem amused.

“Of course I was worried!” he cries indignantly, smacking his arm lightly.

“This San Lang is deeply sorry to have worried gege,” said he, sounding not sorry at all.

Xie Lian sighed exasperatedly, smiling. He turned back to the offender, suddenly remembering why they were the way they were at the moment, and found an emotionless Lan Wangji holding and unconscious Wei Wuxian, his flute nowhere in sight.

“Is he okay?” Xie Lian asks him.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji carries him to an ornate sofa, lies him carefully there-

With a hand sign, Bichen gets lodged in the door, blocking the way of the fleeing female spirit.

“Ah, my door,” says Hua Cheng, emotionlessly.

“It will be compensated for,” replies Lan Wangji, equally emotionlessly.

“Can’t I leave, Chengzhu? I’m surely not needed anymore, right?” pleads the spirit, clasping her hands before her.

“My memories,” demands Lan Wangji, not letting Hua Cheng interject.

“I don’t have them anymore. They’re gone. It’s been too long,” she responds frantically, suddenly acutely scared.

Bichen points at her throat.

“Really! I don’t have them! I digest the feelings inside for power, I don’t have them!” she shouts shrilly, shaking her head.

“It’s true. Kill her, if it suits you.” Hua Cheng says, to Lan Wangji’s surprise. He’d let a god harm one of his own?

“...those feelings.”

“H-Huh?”

“Were they true?” His voice was heavy with something indescribable.

“No truer! They were abundant! I was sustained for so long, I swear!” she said, as if that would save her.

“...Leave.” He withdraws the sword, safe in its scabbard. The ghost doesn’t waste a second; she dashes out of there as if fire is licking at her feet.

“Hanguang-jun?” Xie Lian asks after the ghost’s hurried footsteps are not heard anymore, mildly.

He doesn’t reply. He stares at the man on the sofa, his unmoving chest giving the image an eerie aura.

Xie Lian looks at Hua Cheng, almost helplessly.

“Don’t worry, gege. He’ll be fine. He’s gone berserk before.”

“He has?”

“Mm. It was a bit trickier to stop him before, to say the very least.” He looks pointedly at Lan Wangji, who doesn’t answer.

“What will you do now?” he asks. “Will you leave him here?”

“What else can I do?”

“Take him to your palace. The spiritual energy in heaven will drown the rest of the resentment lingering.”

Lan Wangji looks at him pointedly. Hua Cheng returns the look evenly, not faltering a second.

“I could take him to my palace!” Xie Lian interjects, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere. “It’s fine, I’m never there, anyways-”

“No. I’ll take him.”

“...ah. Okay, then,” he answers, a bit puzzled.

“Will need to be guarded,” he adds, albeit a bit unneeded. No one brings that up.

“Oh. Of course.”

Lan Wangji lifts the motionless ghost, mounts his sword and leaves.

Wei Wuxian floats aimlessly, cold permeating down to the very bone. He can’t open his eyes, and if he could, he knows what he would see. Dark, eternal dark, stretching as the eye could see. He’s trapped here again. What was he doing before? Oh. Hua Hua. Hopefully he didn’t do much damage. The cold intensifies, he curls up to himself-

A ray of sun fights its way through the darkness. He reaches out to it, it’s so familiar-

It’s warm.

Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian awoke with a reassuring warmth still lingering. Harsh light pierced his eyes; he blinked, examining his surroundings. The room was white, stark white, and unbearably familiar.

Jingshi.

The more he looked at it, though, the less familiar it became. It was… pristine. Elegant. Everything Hanguang-Jun’s room should be expected to be. Nothing their room would ever be like. His papers used to be splayed around the place, quick portraits of his husband and doodles of rabbits among new ways for the path, new ideas that popped up and wanted to be immortalised on paper, to Wei Wuxian’s almost frustrating disregard. Baubles from their travels were filling every nook and cranny; that from the time Jin Ling had slain a daoshou; he had wanted to make the children eat the hide they had oh so very proudly presented him with, but they were so immensely satisfied, he couldn’t take that away from them. Even if they did receive a half hearted scolding, that was rebuffed with, we are adults now, we can do as much. They’d always be children in his eyes, no matter what they said.

They would have been. Blessed be their journey. Wei Wuxian had to admit, life stubbornly clung to him, not the other way around.

Footsteps shook him out of his reverie. Footsteps that could only belong to one person.

Lan Wangji walked in the room, inaccessible. Carved in jade. That was how he was to be perceived by other people, it seemed. Cold, devoid of feeling. Wei Ying could tell, though. He was tense.

“You are awake.” A simple observation, that was hardly ever that.

“Yes,” came the equally simple reply. Wei Wuxian was at a loss as to how to react. Their last encounters hadn’t exactly been ideal.

“The resentment has dispersed.” Another observation. He was probably trying to gauge the situation. Wei Wuxian couldn’t blame him. Having a Supreme in your heavenly bedroom does do that to officials.

“We are in your heavenly palace, are we not?” he says simply. No tricks up my sleeve. Just the spiritual energy this place is abundant with.

“...”

“Why did you not vanquish me, if you didn’t remember?” he suddenly blurts out, breaking the silence, that desperate question lingering for years. Longing for something.

“While you were unconscious, I looked into that female ghost. She rarely does a good job removing the memories she wishes to sustain herself on.” He evades the question, and Wei Wuxian is surprised.

“You were her finest work, she said.” He remembered every single word that abomination uttered.

“It wasn’t perfect, it seems,” came the careful reply.

“Do you remember anything?” Wei Ying fumbles over his words almost, scrambling to sit up better, closer.

“No,” Lan Wangji shuts him down instantly.

Wei Ying looks down, dejected.

“...Feelings; some surface, without me knowing why. Whispers,” Wangji continues, his voice barely quieter.

Wei Ying looks up with hope, and he can see Lan Zhan battling with something.

“Don’t tell me; it’s okay,” he settles, fidgeting with his sleeves. “I understand this is a precarious position to find yourself with.”

“Mn.”

It took too much of him to admit that, and Wei Wuxian knows this. It must be much, after all; he’s stuck with echoes of a past he can’t recall, with a person that committed the ultimate sin in heaven’s eyes, just to be able to hold him again.

Lan Zhan never cared about his sins, though. Maybe part of that was why he took him in in the first place, apart from his stupid sense of duty.

“How do you know I’m not really malicious?” Always pushes his luck, stretching it to the furthest limit.

“I don’t.” The familiarity of that simple reply could break him. Just the two words. It would be laughable, had he not missed him that much.

“Doesn’t that worry you?” he asks again, sounding more worried for Lan Wangji than he, himself, looked.

“His Highness, the Crown Prince of Xianle.”

Ah, of course. Hua Hua’s lover, one of the strongest martial gods, practically married to a Supreme. A glowing example of why bending the rules in this particular moment did not have to be detrimental. When did Supremes become that tamed?

“I’m mostly fine now. I’ll get out of your hair.” He moves to get up from the bed, but Lan Wangji stops him.

“You should stay until you are not a threat to those around you,” comes the patient admonishment.

“Aren’t I always a threat? How mean,” he whines, his bottom lip jutting out coquettishly.

“You are more helpful than one might think,” Lan Wangji says, his hands busy with filling a small cup with herbal tea.

“Huh?” He sits up straighter, the playful pout all but gone.

“You are known to protect young children. So much so, that people have worshipped statues of you through the ages.” He hands him the cup.

“Young children need protection. Like you took A-Yuan in.” He takes the cup gently, even though it’s alcohol he craves at the moment.

“Shizui,” Lan Wangji says, looking a bit lost.

“Shizui,” Wei Wuxian agrees. “I miss him. I miss all our juniors. They’d grown into fine young men.” The bitter smile is unmistakable.

“...mn.” Lan Wangji’s face is unfathomable. But Wei Wuxian can see the grief.

He doesn’t probe. Lan Zhan hates strangers probing. 

“...you looked into me?” he asks, diverting the conversation.

Lan Wangji pauses slightly.

“I had to be impartial,” he decides on saying, picking up a cup of tea for himself as well. Wei Wuxian can smell the star anise before he tastes it.

“What did you find?” he questions, staring into the cup.

“A tortured soul.”

Wei Wuxian tears. A tortured soul. His husband lost his memories, he had to go off legends, and he still could choose to say something kind. Not a monster, not a threat, a tortured soul.

“A powerful cultivator. A beloved mentor. A caring husband. Someone with every disregard for the rules. So the legends go.”

“...do you believe the legends?” he asks again, his voice small.

“The ones I brought up, I do,” he replies, a ghost of a smile hanging off his lips.

Chapter Text

“If you believed them, why did you not believe me?” It wasn’t a fair question, he knew. Legends were consolidated stories from whole villages. Why would he believe a crazed apparition?

“What I believed was that you were a great scholar, once. A great man.” Wei Wuxian didn’t know what was making his eyes itch and burn, the solemn, matter of fact way his… former husband conveyed that with, or the all too familiar scent of the star anise. Remedy for the times his lacking golden core couldn’t stave off the cold. “The tragedy that befell you could’ve easily created such a fearsome ghost. Attaching yourself to me could have been arbitrary. You needed a powerful official to control, and you chose me.”

Yeah, Wei Ying can tell when the great Hanguang-jun is bullshitting. 

“You thought something else.” It’s not a question.

Lan Zhan tenses. Might even be a bit surprised. Wei Wuxian is happy to see it. I know you.

“...what I thought was, maybe the inexplicable feelings came from you, as much as everything else did. I shared similarities with your husband of lore.” A small pause. “The legends gave a few descriptions, after all.”

“Stoic, pristine, adorned in mourning,” Wei Wuxian prattles, intending to tease him.

“Yes.”

“No one loved as much as he,” he continues, and if his voice gets a little lighter, neither comments on it.

Lan Zhan just looks at him. That should’ve been weird, really, hearing all about how you were supposed to be loved so much your spouse turned into a Supreme and everything. It was kind of embarrassing, if he thought about it, in retrospect. Not much, or enough that he wouldn’t do it again, just. Feels like something his husband would tease him about, if he were… actually present.

“Didn’t the juniors tell you the truth? Shizui? There’s no way Shizui didn’t try to talk to you about me.” A-Yuan. Too intermingled with human affairs to still be here. Wei Ying wishes with all his soul the Kiln had opened sooner, that he hadn’t been consumed by rage for so long. He’d have talked to them all, before… Well.

Lan Wangji’s voice shakes him out of that depressing strain of thought. 

“I ascended immediately after the… exchange.” A noble act. No wonder he did ascend.

“Didn’t you find it weird that you just ascended one day? No tribulation?” 

“I thought it had to do with a beast I’d slain on the way. I couldn’t remember how it came to be beaten.” The feeling on his face is indescribable. Could be loss, maybe confusion. As if he was trying to grasp something.

“They didn’t pray to you, then?” Relentless.

“Every person that prayed to me asking about you had bountiful yin energy about them. Influenced, I thought. More people you thought you held dear, maybe. I dispelled it, every time, but it kept persisting, until one day, my efforts took hold.” Lan Zhan still looks like he’s grappling with something. Wei Wuxian gets it, really. His stickling for the rules could be something he regrets, after all, if only for a second. If he’d interfered with human affairs more than allowed…

He doesn’t want to let him ruminate, either. It’s not fair. It’s not like Wei Wuxian didn’t really have a hand in this. “They didn’t take hold. I just stopped them praying. After you held the sword to my throat, I swept the dreams of everyone who ever knew me, and stopped them.” 

Silence.

“I know you’re not gonna ask why, but I’ll tell you anyway. Resentment took hold on me. Didn’t wanna mar your position with a ghost groom, of all things. Not for anything else, just out of spite.” He smiles, a tad bitterly. “If you didn’t believe me then, why do so now? It’s not like anything’s changed. I could still be lying.” He lets it all out, all surfacing. There’s no reason to hide. The greatest transgression has already been committed.

“You’re not lying.”

“I’m not?”

“You are not.”

“How do you know?”

There’s no response to that.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, don’t give your trust to malicious strangers that freely,” he chastises, grabbing for his flute, finding it not on his belt. He flurries his hands around instead.

Lan Wangji smiles almost imperceptibly.

“Does that mean you trust me now? For everything and anything ?” Wei Wuxian wants to poke his shoulder, but he won’t. There’s a teasing warmth in his voice. He missed his husband.

“I’d say I trust you as far as I can throw you.”

“Hey!” He puffs his cheeks comically, but something gives him pause. “Wait, that’s pretty far, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.” Yes, be amused, Lan Zhan, your powerful late husband is still a baby. Wei Wuxian mock bristles and musters up a pillow to throw. Lan Wangji catches it with no effort expended, settles it on a nearby chair. Yes. The clutter begins.

“Anyway, I was thinking, you need something more than just ‘a general feeling’ to trust me. So, I had an idea. Your memories might be long gone, but mine aren’t!” There’s that sheen in his voice, the threads of a new idea beginning to be weaved.

Lan Wangji frowns. “Are you suggesting-”

“Empathy!”, he exclaims, not waiting for him to finish. “Yes. Granted, I don’t think anyone has tried this with a ghost king before, but that’s why we’ll be extra careful. I’d offer the bell of clarity, as a guide, but it hasn’t been a ring of clarity for at least a couple thousand years.” He chuckles a bit. “Do you have something-”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t even finish when Lan Wangji holds Bichen up. The jade token hanging from its grip swings like a pendulum.

That makes him pause.

“That gives you calm?”

“Mn. I don’t remember who gave it to-” Realisation colours his face.

“Aiya, how sweet. This should be the first memory I share with you. I’ll have Hua Hua imbue it with good luck, too, that should do it. I know, I know! He’s good with these things, if he wants to, and he’d never deny me a favour. You can have His Highness watch over you, I don’t think anyone else would be all for this plan, honestly. In fact, I think they’d bristle with contempt.” That seems to fill him with inexplicable joy.

Chapter Text

“Hey, looks like the old man can stand, after all.” If Hua Cheng can see how fragile he looks, he doesn’t say anything. The brat.

“Respect to your elders, Hua Hua! Don’t be a disservice to your big brother.” Wei Wuxian brandishes his newly returned flute at him, looking all the more disserviced.

Hua Cheng turns to Xie Lian without skipping a beat, in mock distraughtness. “Gege finds me a disservice?”

“Ah, no, San Lang,” Xie Lian is quick to reassure.

“Not him! Me!” Wei Wuxian protests. “I swear to the heavens, I get any more dog food tossed my way, I’m smacking you both.”

“Aren’t you married?” Hua Cheng says, voice light.

Wei Wuxian is unimpressed. “Stop bullying Lan Zhan. I’m not bullying your precious gege.”

“Er-ge is jealous?”

“Xian-gege wants to be given his proper dues! I’m older than him.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll prostrate to you at our wedding.”

Xie Lian flushes positively red.

“Now you’re all smug, huh! You’ve swept your gege off his feet, don’t worry. I have an actual job to discuss with you.”

“You never come just to visit.” Hua Cheng looks down, in mock desolation.

“Aie, that’s my line, ungrateful brat!” He reaches out to pinch his cheek, but thinks of it again, and lets his hand fall to his side.

“What’s that job, then?”

“I want you to imbue this with luck.” He holds the sword tassel up.

“I’m not giving your new boyfriend gifts, er-gege.”

“What boyfriend, you messy child. I need this to guide him through Empathy.”

“Empathy?” Xie Lian mirrors, perplexed.

“We can’t fix the memory loss, but he can see a few things through mine! You two have been making it work, so why not, right?”

“Ah, I see! Yes, don’t worry. San Lang and I will be very diligent and careful,” Xie Lian promises.

“Of course, gege,” Hua Cheng is quick to agree, looking at his beloved with barely concealed affection.

“Hua Hua, diligent and careful? Men really change for their wives, huh. Or husbands? Hah, anyway! Here. Do your magic.”

Hua Cheng smiles. He picks up the tassel, does nothing, and gives it back to Wei Wuxian.

“That was it?” he intones, perplexed.

“That was it,” Hua Cheng responds, in the same tone.

“Huh. I thought it’d be flashier.”

“Not for you it isn’t.” He smiles.

“Mean brat!”

“Senile old man.”

Wei Wuxian sticks his tongue out at him, and turns the tassel in his hands, to observe it better.

“Hmph. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you did nothing to it.”

“Xian er-gege has time to idle?”

“‘Xian er-gege’ has all the time in the world. ‘Xian er-gege’ can idle as much as he wants. Brat.”

“Er-gege is very inventive. He’s only called this poor San Lang a brat a thousand times.” Hua Cheng smiles affably.

“Stop stalling. Sit down, come on. You, him, and Hanguang-Jun.” Wei Wuxian gestures in a circle, and seats himself, with a dramatic billow of his robes. Hua Cheng snorts, prompting Wei Wuxian into giving him a silencing glare. He, in return, raises his arms as if in surrender, and follows him to the ground.

“I didn’t know you needed a circle formation for this spell. I’ve only heard of it in passing,” Xie Lian says, faintly impressed.

“It’s an ancient spell, gege, you can’t be faulted for not hearing much of it. But no, it doesn’t really need anything. Spirit Music Taming Death just has a flair for the dramatic.” He winks at Wei Wuxian, who rolls his eyes.

“It’s easier to control if you’re seated in the cardinal directions,” Wei Wuxian objects, waving his hand dismissively.

“So he says,” Hua Cheng tells Xie Lian, leaning into his ear conspiratorially.

“San Lang. Be nice,” he chides in return, an air of amusement about him.

“This one is sorry, gege,” Hua Cheng responds, mock chastised.

“Ugh. Stop flirting. Shameless child.”

Xie Lian colours. Hua Cheng just looks stupendously pleased.

“Your Highness, if you’d please hold this.” Wei Wuxian hands him the sword tassel, opting to ignore the rest. “It doesn’t raise much in terms of noise, but if worst comes to worst, just throw it at him, ah.”

Lan Wangji says nothing.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I don’t think I should be losing control. Pressing it on his skin should be more than enough.”

Xie Lian nods.

“Excited, little god?”

“...hah, maybe a little.” He smiles sheepishly.

“Demonic cultivation, right? So glamorous. Okay, time to stop dawdling.”

“It’s the third time you’re trying to get back on track, er-gege,” Hua Cheng offers helpfully.

Wei Wuxian just hits him on the back of his head with his flute, and closes his eyes.

Lan Wangji is walking down a busy street, built in a style he hasn’t seen in millennia. Busy stalls overflow with various baubles, a cloyingly sweet scent wafts in the air. It’s humid, his hair sticks to the back of his neck. Wei Wuxian is looking for something, and he’s not leaving this place till he finds it. He doesn’t know yet what it should be, but Lan Zhan’s courting gift should be special. He’s the Hanguang-Jun! An esteemed gentleman! If he’s to be wearing anything of Wei Wuxian’s, it has to be appropriate. Appropriately intricate and perfect. Unblemished.

So far he’s come up empty. He’s taken a stroll around the market twice. He’s looked through every nook and cranny. There’s nothing, nothing that catches his interest. The second jade of the Gusu Lan-

Jade! His excitement curses through Lan Wangji, as if he’s infected with it. Mutton fat jade is an appropriate courtship gift for someone as precious as his Hanguang-Jun. Lan Zhan should be very pleased with it. Old Lan should also not have much to say to oppose it. A finely carved piece of jade should do the trick, then. He’ll have to look through the market once again, for one. Just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything.

“Senior Wei!” he hears a voice call.

“Shizui!”

The memory splinters like stained glass, colourful pieces oddly superimposing over each other. Enormous pressure starts weighing Lan Wangji down, making him drop to his knees. He sees Wei Wuxian, small as he had been, calling after Shizui, smiling. He sees the Yiling Patriarch, hiding a tiny child into the hollow of a tree. He sees Spirit Music Taming Death, screaming after a bundle of red clothes, tears of blood running endlessly down his face.