Work Text:
It was dark. Weight pressed in around him from every direction. There was an almost unearthly silence, but it was loud against his ears, almost causing them to burst. From above there was a small light and beneath him a nothingness.
Taxian-Jun knew where he belonged. The darkness whispered, its tendrils crawling up his body, murmuring that within itself was where he was meant to be. He didn’t deserve any other place—after all that he had done, how could he even dare to think of the light?
If his dead heart could feel, it would have been hammering.
He closed his eyes and decided that maybe finally, finally, it was time to rest. Time to let the darkness take him. Where it went, he didn’t know. Probably no place good, but then, wasn’t that what he deserved? It’s not like he had anything left.
That world’s Wanning was safe. That’s what mattered. His Wanning had long since passed. His Wanning wouldn’t care to see him again anyway.
The darkness pulled at him, slowly dragging him deeper into itself.
But then something strange happened. Something so strange that even his dreams had never allowed him to experience it. He heard the soft notes of a guqin, of a familiar song that called for him.
And it was coming from the light.
Taxian-Jun’s eyes snapped open and he looked up through the pitch darkness, that light was getting brighter, the spot bigger. The whispers of the dark got louder, but through it all, he could still hear the guqin singing to him.
He looked down at the shadows that wrapped around his leg and narrowed his eyes. He pulled at the weight of his surroundings, letting out a silent scream of determination as he tugged himself free, and then he quickly shot upwards, climbing and climbing, higher and higher as the spot got brighter. The light felt warm, even in the cold darkness, and he reached for it, reached until his arm was stretched as far as it could go, until he felt a tightness in his muscles and then—
His eyes snapped open and above him was the warmth of day.
Taxian-Jun laid flat on his back, his violet eyes staring straight up into the brilliant, baby blue sky, his fingers grazing along the soft grass beneath him. A whistled breeze blew past as he continued to stare, his mind trying to work through a maze of thoughts, and then slowly, out of his peripheral, he saw a haitang blossom, white as snow, drifting down with the slowing wind until it slowly came to rest on his forehead.
He blinked, his breath hitching in his throat even though he had no need to breathe, and he slowly lifted his hand, carefully taking the blossom between his fingers. Its petals were soft, smooth as silk and warm from the sun. Its scent was gentle and subtle, just as he remembered.
Taxian-Jun quickly sat up and turned his head upwards, his eyes widening at the sight of that familiar Haitang tree, the first place he’d ever seen his Wanning. The place he had buried him. The place he had rested in his brief death.
But now there was just the tree. The grass was a vibrant green, almost long enough to hide his feet, and there were no graves. The area was undisturbed, just as beautiful as that first day, just the way his fourteen year old self had once set eyes on it as his future Shizun had stood there not paying attention, too busy with creating something to help the good of the people.
There were no graves, but there was also no life. He was alone.
In his dreams, he had seen them all. Xue Meng, his aunt and uncle, many people that he had hurt and killed along the way, but none of them were here within this dream. But of course not, because it wasn’t a dream.
This was death. And why would they visit him in his death?
Especially Wanning… after all that… he couldn’t ever expect his Wanning to come to him in death.
This was just a tree. And he was just alone.
As he deserved.
Slowly, Taxian-Jun stepped backwards, not even realizing that he crushed his crown beneath his foot. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need it anymore.
Sisheng Peak was silent as he walked. Nobody around; not even a bird or an insect. The only sound was the crunch beneath his feet and the wind in the air. It felt lonely. Now that he was allowing himself to feel everything, he felt lonelier than he had in awhile.
As he went about his long-time home, he hoped he would see someone, anyone, but he knew he was kidding himself. He knew that there wouldn’t be anyone here. Nobody would come for him, nobody would want to see him again, and he couldn’t blame them. If he was them, he wouldn’t want to see himself either.
And then suddenly there was a sound, like a whisper on the wind.
At first, Taxian-Jun thought he was imagining it. He was hearing the things that he wanted to hear, but as he walked, it slowly got louder, filling his ears with its beauty.
The guqin was back, and it was gesturing him to come home.
He picked up his pace, suddenly in a hurry, and before Taxian-Jun even realized it, he was running. Running with desperation, running with desire to know where that sound was coming from. Was it all in his head? Was it not really there? That was a very real possibility.
And it scared him more than he’d like to admit.
The song of the guqin led him to the place that frightened him the most and yet, it was the same place he wanted to visit most desperately of all.
Red Lotus Pavilion was as perfect as the first day he had glanced at its gates and as terrifying as every time he’d seen it after he’d been whipped by his Shizun.
For a moment, Taxian-Jun thought the song would disappear, just like it had after he’d escaped from the darkness, but it didn’t. If anything, it was louder than it was a few minutes before. It’d grown in volume the closer he got. It sounded real .
And he knew the sound of that guqin anywhere.
It was Jiuge.
Taxian-Jun’s steps faltered as he got to the gate. What would he see should he open the
gates? Would he see nothing? Would the music disappear? The possibility was horrifying, and for the briefest moment, Taxian-Jun thought maybe it would be best if he didn’t even try. If he didn’t open the gate, then he wouldn’t be faced with the reality that the sound was all in his head, that there was nothing there.
That there was no one there. Least of all the person he wanted to see most of all.
It was cowardly, and Taxian-Jun tried to remind himself that out of everything he was—a murderer, an orphan, a tyrant—a coward certainly wasn’t one of them.
Maybe the hope was his punishment. Maybe this was his own personal hell. And if that was the case…
Then he should face it.
With a shaking breath, Taxian-Jun pushed the gates of the Red Lotus Pavillion open.
His vision was blurred. Everything before him, including the figure in black sitting on the ground, a guqin in front of him, was hazy. So at first, he thought it was fake.
And then he realized it was because there was a wetness in his eyes.
Tears slipped from them like a storm, wetting his cheeks. There was a sting to the back of his throat, a harshness around his eyelids, and then the music suddenly stopped, and the figure in black looked up at him.
“You are finally here.” That familiar voice said before slowly standing. The figure stepped over the guqin on the ground and slowly walked forward. The distance was short, but it seemed to go on forever as Taxian-Jun stood rooted to the spot, watching as the person drew closer and closer to him.
The black robes had just a hint of white around the collar and sleeves. The person’s dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, held up simply with a white ribbon, and on their left ear was a flash of red, a piercing that Taxian-Jun so vividly remembered pressing into their flesh.
Chu Fei. His Chu Wanning. His Shizun… he was here.
Taxian-Jun trembled as Chu Wanning stopped in front of him. Their eyes met and the tears stopped, clearing his vision for the ethereal being in front of him. A white glow seemed to surround Chu Wanning, an aura of power and a gentleness that had always been there, yet, he had missed it along the way in life.
Chu Wanning stared up into his eyes, his own breath catching clearly in his throat as he lifted his hand. Taxian-Jun flinched for a moment, but then that hand laid flat against his chest, directly over his heart.
Directly over where the flower had been.
“Mo Ran…” came the murmured name from Chu Wanning’s lips as his shizun seemed to relax, his own eyes filling with a wetness that Taxian-Jun hadn’t seen in for as long as he could remember. But it was different from how it had used to be. It wasn’t filled with anger and defiance, but with relief and happiness. “You are finally here.”
“I’m here,” Taxian-Jun replied before he even realized it, never once looking away from the beautiful visage of his love before him, frightened that if he did, he would disappear.
And then Chu Wanning smiled and said the one thing that Taxian-Jun never thought he’d get to hear, not even in his dreams. “I’ve been waiting for you.”