Chapter Text
It starts with pain.
He awakens, screwing up his face in discomfort. His bones hurt from the cold, hard floor below him. There's a faint hum, like the buzz of a computer. He can feel white light on his eyelids. Hesitantly, he blinks his eyes open, and is greeted with the sight of a pure white ceiling.
He breathes slowly. Something about all this seems very wrong. This certainly doesn't seem like a hospital, given that he is a jumbled mess of limbs on the floor. This doesn't seem like a jail cell either, unless they decided to cart him off to the most top secret asylum in the country. And he doubts that hell would look like anything like this.
There’s something else. Something more wrong, still.
Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself up with his elbows, and wobbles upright. By his feet are several tangled up wires and cables spilling out of a large box, its contents strewn all over the floor. The space he’s occupying between two tall shelving units is narrow, and he feels awfully cramped. How did he manage to fall asleep in a place like this?
To his left amidst the boxes there is a nondescript counter, atop of which is a computer. The rows of shelves to his right are all protected behind a panel of thick glass.
As he wracks his brain, trying to ignore the dull thrumming in his head, his focus shifts from the boxes behind the glass to the reflection on the surface of it, slowly, and then it snaps.
The face looking back at him is not his. This is not Wei Wuxian.
He tries to recall. His name is Wei Wuxian. He is twenty three years old. He lives on Luanzang Hill. And he is affirmatively much more run-down than his reflection suggests. At least, that's what he remembers.
But the facts say otherwise. This hair is shorter, curlier. His eyes are tired but bigger and curiouser than they should be. His nose is softer, rounder. Everything is wrong. What is especially different, however, is the cable attached to his left temple that winds around him, goes around one of his feet, and leads up to the counter-top. No, it isn't just 'attached'; it’s inserted. Turning his head to the side and pushing some of his hair away, he can see in his reflection a small square on his left temple where the skin gives way to circuit board and clear plastic, and a port where the cable plugs in.
It's not like brain implants are a new concept by any means, but he’s never seen one like this, so flush, so sophisticated. Whoever is hoarding this technology is doing a disservice to the world at large. If only Wei Wuxian had the knowledge that something like this existed, it would have saved him a lot of trouble.
He checks his pockets. A phone unlocks to his fingerprint. August? He fumbles his way to the messages app, only to see that there isn't a single conversation in sight. Not very popular, huh?
There’s a name. Mo Xuanyu.
He takes a better look at the date.
Oh.
Some elaborate prank, surely..
He's just accidentally slept through thirteen years of existence, somehow, and has woken up in a foreign, stolen body, in a strange room, with a funny cable sticking out of his head.
He’s right. Something is very, very wrong.
It doesn't matter what he leaves behind - that’s Mo Xuanyu's mess, and therefore Mo Xuanyu's fault, and consequently, Mo Xuanyu’s repercussions, not his. All Wei Wuxian needs to do is quietly slip away from here, wherever here even is.
He kicks the binders and the loose papers to the corner, and heaves the box on the floor back onto the shelves where it probably belongs. As he pulls the lid over it it locks with a soft click.
The cable from his head is attached to a port behind the monitor. It has numerous windows open, all inaccessible due to an error code displayed on top of them. Any clicking is unresponsive. The useless thing is frozen.
That cable is going to be trouble, but he can’t afford to wait. Closing his eyes and preparing for the worst, he pulls it from the wall.
He’s alive. No alarms. No explosions. Thank the heavens.
The room is an endless sea of shelving units, each securely locked in their own sections. He must be in a storage vault of some kind. The sorting system reminds him of how evidence is usually sorted. He’s totally alone, and there aren’t any windows, but he’s willing to wager it’s the middle of the night right now. He can usually just tell.
The doors leading out of the vault open without resistance. All he needs now is an exit route and some hope that he is on the first floor. Or even the second floor. Wei Wuxian can take a bit of a fall. He’s still running around looking for the way out when he turns a corner to the sight of a window. He is definitely not on the second floor.
A signpost on the wall reads 'Floor 13'. Shit. Even I couldn't withstand that fall.
It’s dark outside, and there isn't a single star in the sky. The light comes from the cityscape instead, twinkling and glowing below him. This sight is at least a little familiar.
Xin Shanghai. An ocean of synthetic stars and neon nebulas. It looks strange, like the way he would remember it from some distant fragment that could be a dream or a memory, he isn't sure. It definitely doesn’t look like the dystopia it once did.
He continues sneaking around the hallways when a pair of doors in front of him fly open, and Wei Wuxian's eyes meet those of two gruff, middle aged men. From their uniforms, they look like security guards. And from the way Mo Xuanyu chose to dress today, Wei Wuxian can't bullshit that he's supposed to be here.
He runs.
"Hey, what do you think you’re doing!"
"All security personnel, intruder alert, thirteenth floor..."
The guards' shouts fade away as Wei Wuxian keeps running down the hallway as fast as he can, though they stay hot on his trail. He hasn’t even made it very far when he turns another corner and finds his face planted centerly into someone’s chest. After stumbling back, Wei Wuxian tries to push his way past, but the man grabs his arm with a strong tightness that Wei Wuxian knows he can't wriggle out of. He's done.
Wei Wuxian stops trying to yank his arm away, and drops his shoulders in defeat. His cable swings like a pendulum before stilling. He lifts his bowed head to see just who it is that has thwarted all his plans for a great escape.
He is not prepared.
His face of frustration, shame, and embarrassment morphs into one of pure shock. He likely looks like an idiot, mouth gaping, eyes wide, but the circumstances warrant it.
The two guards from earlier catch up, just as a small crowd of more guards run up from the other direction behind-
"Mr Lan Wangji. We will take it from here. You can hand the intruder over to us." A lanky looking guard pulls out a pair of handcuffs.
"No. I will deal with this."
Wei Wuxian wants to laugh, but he's certain that would get him in more trouble. Here, in this strange body, in this scary building, in the dark, the faint glow of their city beneath them illuminates their faces.
Here, Lan Wangji.
Lan Wangji has one hand holding the back of Wei Wuxian’s head, and another on his cable. He’s leaning in awfully close and Wei Wuxian has to try very hard not to heat up. Maybe this is all a strange dream he’s having moments before his death.
“I’m going to try. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Lan Wangji pulls. Nothing.
They’re in a small meeting room. It’s not awful by any means, but everything is either glass or shades of white and grey and blue, dustless and cleaned to a shine. A gurney would fit right in.
A group of guards keep watch outside, occasionally peeking in through the window pane in the door. Lan Wangji had specifically instructed them to not bother him and his ‘intruder’ unless prompted. Wei Wuxian squirms in his seat.
The cable doesn’t give way at all. Lan Wangji hums in frustration. “What model is your implant?”
“Uh. I’m… not sure.”
“...” Great job, Wei Wuxian. That’s not suspicious in the slightest.
Of all of the people in China, he has to run into this one. It’s either a blessing or a curse, he doesn’t know which one yet. Maybe this is all some really elaborate prank? Jiang Cheng is going to jump out and pie him in the face, and Lan Wangji is going to point out the hidden cameras any minute now.
He has no idea how long he’s been spaced out, but Lan Wangji looks to where the other end of the cable lies on the floor, and picks it up. “Do you mind if…” and he trails off, gesturing to the plug in his hand.
Wei Wuxian has no idea what Lan Wangji is insinuating, but replies anyway. “No, not at all.”
Lan Wangji reaches over and presses on a spot in front of him on the round table. A monitor slowly rises from the space underneath. He deftly logs in, clicks a few icons, and plugs the cable into a port in a computer tower underneath the table. Wei Wuxian feels a blue glow coming from his temple, hazy on the edge of his peripheral.
They sit in silence as Lan Wangji types and clicks away. That feeling of dread from earlier doesn’t go away. Lan Wangji has no idea who he is. He hasn’t even asked for his name. He wonders if Lan Wangji knows Mo Xuanyu already. He isn’t acting like it.
He abruptly stops typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard, shaking ever so slightly. He swivels his chair and turns to Wei Wuxian with an unreadable expression on his face - apprehension, fear, disbelief, maybe.
He finally says something to break the silence. “There’s a button behind your left ear.”
Despite his confusion, Wei Wuxian brings his hand up behind his ear. Nothing feels particularly button-like, but as he glides his finger over his skin, he feels the outline of a circle. He pushes it, and terrifyingly, feels something click. It’s discomforting. One more time, he grabs the cable and pulls; it unplugs.
When Wei Wuxian disconnects from the computer, some of the readings on the windows turn blank. An error message pops up on the screen with a soft ping . Lan Wangji makes no move to dismiss it, however. Lan Wangji hasn’t taken his eyes off of Wei Wuxian this entire time, frozen in place.
“What is your name?” Lan Wangji asks. His hands are balled up tightly, resting on his thighs.
“Mo Xuanyu.”
“I need you to be honest with me.” His eyes are intense. Wei Wuxian is made of glass and Lan Wangji is looking straight through him. “Please.”
Wei Wuxian looks down at himself, at his hands. Mo Xuanyu’s hands. Maybe he’s just bluffing.
Wei Wuxian meets Lan Wangji’s eyes again and opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get the chance to speak first.
“Wei Wuxian.”
Lan Wangji was not bluffing.
How could he have known? Wei Wuxian had hardly said anything. How could he have known?
Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, silent. What could he possibly say?
“Please. Just be honest with me.”
“...”
“... You might be confused. It am, too. But I’m right here.”
“...”
“Wei Ying.”
Fuck. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.
Wei Wuxian musters a small, pitiful smile. “Lan Zhan.”
“Now how many of you studied The Mathematics of Machine Learning last semester? A show of hands, please.”
The professor’s voice echoes through the large lecture hall. It’s poorly heated, and the winter chill is still nipping at Wei Wuxian’s nose from when he walked over to campus. He fiddles with his pen. The notebook before him is blank. He still doesn’t feel like he’s come down from the joint he smoked last night.
Beside him, Lan Wangji resolutely raises his hand. Wei Wuxian does not. As an engineering sciences major, he only shares his core mathematics units with Lan Wangji; better than nothing, because at least then he has someone to tease.
It’s been years now, since that first lecture when Wei Wuxian waltzed in late with an iced coffee in hand and was forced to sit in the only empty seat left - one next to Lan Wangji. The glory days, back when no one knew their way around Yunshen University, back when they still had stars in their eyes at the college facilities and the insidious amount of money poured into making the college look good. Back then, Wei Wuxian would haul Lan Wangji around to all their collegiate events just for the free pizza, and Lan Wangji would end up having to haul hung-over Wei Wuxian out of bed after his particularly raucous house parties. Lan Wangji looks at him as if to say you still do that now, but humans can’t read minds, so Wei Wuxian smirks at him as if to say fuck you .
Of course, Wei Wuxian knew who Lan Wangji was before that first lecture. He knew of him before he even enrolled in Yunshen. Jiang Cheng had told him to keep an eye out. Sons of businessmen are generally encouraged to bridge connections. As the son of the CEO of CyberCloud, the biggest cyber security company in the country, Lan Wangji definitely looks the part. He could pass as a thirty year old. At a funeral. Who wears a dress shirt on the first day of college?
Amidst the coffee aroma, Wei Wuxian could smell the pretentiousness the day he walked on campus. That’s what Yunshen is known for - conglomerate bigwigs sending their kids here where the university churns them into identical conglomerate bigwigs to carry on the tradition. It’s infamous. Everyone here knows someone or is someone, and clearly has money to burn. Wei Wuxian is a bit of an imposter, being an adopted child of the CEO of Lianhua Logistics, but he isn't complaining.
“Good, good. Engineers and mathematicians who haven’t delved into the subject before, I advise you to read the first twenty chapters of the sixth edition textbook before next week.”
“Ew.” Wei Wuxian twirls his pen. “If I wanted to read I'd have majored in literature.”
Lan Wangji side-eyes him. “Sit up.”
Pouting, Wei Wuxian slumps onto his blank notebook. “It’s going to be a long day.”
The first day of their final year of college. Wei Wuxian can’t wait to escape the hellscape. Lan Wangji sighs minutely, and whispers. “It’s going to be a long year.”
Looking back, neither of them had any idea what was coming.
Jiang Cheng rubs his eyes, yawning loudly. It’s only him and his company in the quaint study room, and there are no rules that students have to be silent here. A hand appears before his eyes, snapping its fingers, and Jiang Cheng recoils in surprise. The hand’s owner complains, “Jiang Cheng, it’s only five. Stay lively now.”
“Easy for you to say, Zixuan, with your eight hours of beauty sleep.” Jiang Cheng cracks his knuckles and glares. Calling Jin Zixuan his ‘friend’ is a bit of a stretch. Being on the same degree course as him, they spend more time together than either of them willingly want to, so it’s easy to slap on the label. This is what his parents want from him, too.
From across the table, a head perks up. “A-Cheng, please. I’m running on two and a half hours of sleep and I’m doing fine!”
“Sure, Huaisang. You’re also buzzing at the speed of light from all the caffeine in you.” Jiang Cheng sometimes has to reflect on his life choices. Honestly, Nie Huaisang only just barely meets the ‘friend’ threshold. But for all his flaws, he does make good company.
Jin Zixuan stifles a chuckle. “That’s what you get for picking an arts degree, Huaisang.”
True, as one of the sons of the leader of Nie Medtronics, Nie Huaisang studying Fine Art and Art History was a little out of left field, but he had expressed absolutely no interest in wanting anything to do with his family company. The medical industry just isn’t all that appealing to Nie Huaisang, much to his family’s, namely his brother’s, chagrin. Nie Mingjue is planning on taking up the Medtronics mantle with a headstrong determination, and, as Nie Huaisang claims, constantly threatens to kill him.
Jin Zixuan, meanwhile, is the son of the CEO of Koi Corporations. The conglomerate isn’t all that large yet, more thinly spread across a slew of industries. Jin Zixuan often helps Jiang Cheng with his Business and Management studies. For as sour as he is, Jin Zixuan is still remarkably intelligent. More so than Jiang Cheng. On the other hand, Nie Huaisang has all the people skills to thrive in business, but he chooses not to apply them.
And then Jiang Cheng is in the middle, son of the CEO of Lianhua Logistics and born and bred with the pure intent of continuing the family’s pride and joy. Sure, their company isn’t exactly as flashy as, say, Wen Group, but they are one of the biggest transport and logistics companies in the East. Their offices were initially in the Bund, the waterfront district of Old Shanghai that kissed the curves of the Yangtze River, crawling in between the skyscrapers of the city. However, Lianhua Logistics had undergone a massive expansion at the turn of the twenty-second century, and Old Shanghai had grown to engulf half of Jiangsu, the province directly above it.
Now, the city of Xin Shanghai is split into two, like hemispheres of the brain, Yangtze River dividing them. The jewel of Lianhua Logistics is their Lotus Port, a floating port connected to the coastline of Southern Xin Shanghai. From an aerial view, it looks like a lotus, with its wide petals reaching out into the Yellow Sea. Someday, Jiang Cheng and his sister will take charge of it, and the massive commercial infrastructure it carries.
Someday, he’ll be in his father’s place.
“Hey, Zixuan, can you help me out with the evolution of equity theory in the early twenty-second century?”
“Sure, let me see what you have…”
The bass of the ear-bleeding music from his dorm permeates through the open window. Wei Wuxian smokes the blunt like the more he inhales, the less the music will give him a headache. At least the nighttime air is refreshing. Ashing onto the doorstop, he crosses his arms and leans against the back wall, cocking his chin when a vaguely familiar crowd of girls from a dormitory four blocks down pass him by with loud, fangirly greetings. He overhears a girl in the group whispering to another, “Mian Mian, he’s the guy we were talking about earlier…”
“Hey, Mian Mian!” He decides to exclaim. “I like your perfume.”
She stutters, before harrumphing and walking away. “You don’t get to call me Mian Mian, Wei Wuxian.” But she gets to call him by his name, one that apparently everyone knows already.
He’s halfway through his blunt and wishing he brought his alcohol outside with him, especially when he spots Lan Wangji turn the corner and saunter towards him. “I’m not drunk enough to talk to you right now, Lan Zhan.”
“You got a noise complaint.” Lan Wangji leans against the wall beside him, settling with a sigh. Wei Wuxian hasn’t quite registered what his face looks like.
“Oops. From smoking weed quietly by myself?” He shrugs in the direction of his living room, innocently. “No one’s come to stop me yet. Unless that’s supposed to be you.”
Lan Wangji shifts his weight. He isn’t here to tell on Wei Wuxian. He’s here because he’s just as bored as Wei Wuxian is. “How’s your research project going?”
“Ugh. Don’t ask me about school outside business hours.” He puffs again, and ashes again, and holds the blunt out in silent offering. Lan Wangji silently refuses.
“Did you hear about Wen Chao running for student rep?"
“Blergh.” He’s getting close to the stub and it’s starting to burn. “Lan Zhan, I just said business hours.”
“You don’t like him, do you.”
“I think you hate him more. He’s fun to piss off, lemme tell you, but he won’t let me be his friend whatever I do. And his girlfriend is just as stuck-up as him.” He offers prayer hands to the sky. “Sorry Mr Jiang and Mrs Yu, I can’t make friends with the Wens for you.”
Lan Wangji stares at him. “What about the kid in your coding group? Wen Ning, was it?”
“Wen Ning? Wen Ning…” The stub between his fingers falls to the ground. “ Wen Ning. Oh my god. He’s a Wen? Lan Zhan, he’s the total opposite of the others. Look at Wen Xu and then look at Wen Ning. What the fuck happened there."
“So you did what your parents wanted.”
“You don’t have to say parents.” ‘Legal guardians’ was always preferred. He absently crushes the butt with his heel. “I suppose I did befriend a Wen then. Along with a Jin and a Nie and a Lan.” He stares at the sky for a few seconds, wondering who else he can add to his collection. The music still pounds. He’d really like to get away from it. “Hey, come inside with me?”
Lan Wangji quirks an eyebrow. It says absolutely not.
Wei Wuxian smiles coyly, keeping his lips pursed.
Lan Wangji takes the bait. “Ditch with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They take off into the night.
Jiang Cheng hangs up, setting his phone down on the table and tossing an empty beer can into the air, like he has been for the last few minutes. Nie Huaisang is sitting across from him, hugging the back of his chair. “What did he say?”
“Tonight at the bar, the one opposite Central library. It’s him and Lan Wangji and Wen Ning and he wants me to invite you and Zixuan. And I think possibly Wen Chao and his girlfriend are coming too.”
“Aw. I’m avoiding Wen Chao at all costs since he shaded me on his socmeds but tell Wei-xiong I wish I could be there.”
“You’re such a Gemini.”
“I’m a Taurus?” Jiang Cheng knows that Nie Huaisang knows he gives off Gemini vibes, so he doesn’t press it. “It’s nice to get everyone together, though. Especially for Wangji-xiong after everything happened. I hope he’s okay.”
“Well.” Jiang Cheng opens up his web browser on his phone and types ‘cybercloud’ into the search bar. “Maybe things have gotten better? It’s been a few days already.”
The first few articles to pop up are the ones from two or three days ago.
‘BREAKING: CyberCloud security compromised…’
‘Devastating data breach leaves CyberCloud stocks…’
‘Live update: What to do if YOUR data has been stolen…’
“It’s a little frightening that a company so big can fall so quickly.” Nie Huaisang looks apprehensive. “It makes you think you can’t be safe with anyone these days.”
Jiang Cheng moves to stand up, pulling his bag around his shoulders and picking up his hoverboard. “Nothing is free, you know. You pay with your money or your info.”
“Or both.” Nie Huaisang sighs. “Please don’t come back too wasted tonight, I’m not cleaning up your vomit again.”
“Huaisang, that was once during freshers, let it go.”
The sunlight hits his face when he steps outside, Nie Huaisang somewhat creepily watching him from the window. Spring is turning into summer, and with it, the days are getting hotter.
He powers up his hoverboard and kicks off, gliding down the road.
That evening was their last normal evening, and none of them even knew it.
Wei Wuxian remembers Jiang Cheng making some over-done joke about sending him to AA, to which he replied, “There is nothing anonymous about my alcoholism.” His thigh was brushed up against Lan Wangji and he had definitely been giving him bedroom eyes the whole evening like he always does when he gets drunk, but nothing more, never more. He also vaguely remembers thinking Wen Chao’s girlfriend was way too pretty for him, and accidentally blurting out that he always thought Wen Chao was gay.
That’s about it. He can’t remember anything else from before.
There’s a great gaping blank that starts with the evening at the bar gradually fading away, and ends starkly the moment he wakes in an unfamiliar hospital room with Jiang Cheng and for some strange reason, their sister there, too. The tears fall from her eyes without reserve and her voice is drowning in worry when she calls out, “A-Xian.”
He isn’t in there for much. Some person who introduces himself as ‘Dr Song’ tells him he’s had some brain trauma but it can’t be that, just some scrapes and bruises, surely. Jiang Cheng looks the same - a little bunged up but if Wei Wuxian just ignores the grave look on his face, he’s doing fine. So why is the hospital so packed that the three of them are squeezed into the corner of this little room, with the partitioning curtains doing nothing to subdue the cries of anguish behind them? And why does jie-jie look like that?
He didn’t actually want an answer but he’s given one anyway. “A-Xian.” She grabs his hand, shaking. “Our mother and father-” she chokes.
Your mother and father. Never his. He realises they aren’t here.
“They’re dead.”
There’s another canyon of nothingness between him hearing those words and finding himself standing before the TV in the hospital lobby, shoes slipping off his feet and eyes transfixed to the screen.
“… devastating the city and killing thousands upon impact.The following footage may not be suitable for sensitive viewers.
“This aerial recording shows the moments leading up to the cataclysmic explosion at the nuclear power plant located beneath the bund, situated next to Lotus Port. Following the first shockwave police forces ordered an emergency evacuation of residents of Southern Xin Shanghai. Due to its close proximity with Lotus Port, the city’s Yangtze Bridge began to collapse immediately, and was deemed unusable for evacuation purposes. All current evacuation efforts being made are by air only. Rescue seaplanes and helicopters are currently being sent to Xin Shanghai airport from Japan and Unified Korea, China’s nearest allies. Public entry into Southern Xin Shanghai is suspended until further notice, and all travel in Northern Xin Shanghai and the surrounding provinces is monitored. If you or someone you know is in any of the following areas…”
He watches the news report, over and over. It cycles through the same information, but he doesn’t register the words.
He watches the destruction on the television and burns the image into the forefront of his mind. Suddenly the last twenty years of peace seem so small, so distant. According to the date on the screen it was only yesterday.
He stares like the screen is his only window in the dark little jail cell that the hospital feels like sometimes. He stares until his eyes burn like the pictures of the city.
The phone rings only once before the person on the other side picks up. “A-Cheng, I’m so sorry-”
“Huaisang, are you okay.” He can’t make it sound like a question, it’s more of a plea.
“Me? Yeah, of course.” Perhaps a blessing that he didn’t come to the bar last evening. He didn’t have to see what they saw. “The damage didn’t reach far over the river in the North. All the lights went out, but our house is fine. I felt the shockwave, though. Da-ge wants us to go back to our family in Guangzhou. Are you guys okay?”
“My sister came from Beijing. Wei Wuxian and I are fine.” My sister is here and Wei Wuxian and I are fine. He’s trying to soothe himself as much as he is Nie Huaisang.
At least Huaisang has the courtesy to not ask about his parents. “I’m so sorry, Jiang Cheng.”
“So am I.” Jiang Cheng leans his head back onto the wall with a dull thud. “So am I.”
His sister and Wei Wuxian. The three of them have each other. They have to have each other.
After all, what else does he have left?
His phone rings, and he answers without checking who it is. The voice is who he thought it would be.
“Wangji?”
“Xichen-ge.”
“I’m still trying to get to the hospital. I know I only just spoke to you, but are you still safe?”
“Yes.” He is fine, physically. “Are you?”
“Yes,” a pause. “Father isn’t doing so well.”
“Is he…”
“He’s in the emergency room at North Central.”
“…”
“I just wanted to tell you. I’ll keep you updated but I need to go.”
No, don’t. Talk to me, say something. I haven’t even told you anything yet. Don’t leave me alone. What about our father? Our uncle? All of it goes unspoken. “Okay.”
“Stay safe. I love you, Wangji.” Lan Xichen hangs up.
He didn’t let Lan Wangji say it back.