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Chapter Text

On a chilly autumn morning, Lan Xichen gracefully received a letter from a disciple assigned to handle correspondence. It had been sent in such a hurry that it wasn't sealed or signed, yet it didn't need to be. Xichen would recognize that handwriting anywhere, and the scroll's quality was unmistakably favored by the Nie sect for little A-Sang's artistic endeavors.

Briefly disregarding the sect's rules, Xichen assumed it was once again related to the youngest and most indulged of the Nies. With this thought, he opened the scroll eagerly. While his assumption was accurate, the contents of the letter were deeply concerning.

‘Er-Gege,

I'm writing on behalf of Da-Ge. Little Huaisang has gone missing. Mingjue-ge is already searching for him, and I'll join the search soon. However, I thought you should know, just in case.’

‘Just in case’ of what? Xichen wondered, attempting to avoid anticipating the worst. He left the scroll, took his sword, and moved with urgency—almost running—hoping to evade the elders' notice as he sought his uncle. Even if his uncle was likely teaching, this was an emergency he had to be informed of. Xichen was prepared to fly all the way to the Unclean Realm and remain there until A-Sang was back safe. He also held out hope that by the time he arrived, progress would have been made, and A-Sang would return with minimal harm. Knowing A-Sang, though, he'd probably sneak a hidden bird in his robes; he had a knack for catching them.

Xichen found his uncle teaching A-Zhan's class. Not wanting to disrupt, yet eager to get his uncle's attention, Xichen politely excused himself and approached his uncle's table. A-Zhan's inquisitive golden eyes bore into Xichen's robes from behind, but urgency prevailed; he had to leave soon.

"There's an issue with Nie Huaisang," he began whispering, momentarily unsure whether to elaborate. Yet he chose honesty in the end. His uncle might not have a soft spot for A-Sang, but concern was something Xichen didn't want to exacerbate for the already overburdened man. "Da-Ge and A-Yao are searching. A-Sang's not in the Unclean Realm anymore."

As anticipated, his uncle's expression tightened.

"I'm assuming you're going there."

"Uncle, with all due respect, Da-Ge would have flown here as soon as he could if A-Zhan had gone missing. I couldn't just sit here and do nothing, knowing that."

"Of course. Report to me as soon as you can."

He bowed deeply before the man, offering a smile that Qiren didn't return. But that was alright; he had grown accustomed to his little brother's subtle range of expressions, and therefore he could read his uncle just as perfectly as he did Lan Zhan. He could tell from the way his uncle's eyes softened that there was genuine concern.

Eventually, he got a reaction, as he came close to bolting out of the classroom and his uncle started tsk-ing disapprovingly from his seat.

__________

Hours later, Xichen landed in the Unclean Realm. The guards at the gate had already informed him that Young Master Nie had been found, but a shared look between them hinted that something was amiss. Instead of pressing for more information, he retraced the well-known path, taking turns and walking down corridors he had traversed countless times before.

Throughout the many years of shared love between him and his Da-Ge, there had never been screams coming from the young man's wing of their home. There had been giggles, infantile shrieks, hungry cries, and puppy-like whines, but never screams.

As he drew nearer to Da-Ge's meeting room, the screams grew louder, yet Xichen couldn't quite grasp the nature of the situation.

Nie Huaisang might not have possessed the physical strength of other children his age in the Nie clan, but he was remarkably courageous for his stature. Xichen recalled personally witnessing an instance when a whole eagle swooped towards the child. All Huaisang did was open his robes and capture the bird within them, as if it were no bigger than he was. Huaisang accomplished this feat with an enormous grin, even finding amusement in the flapping bird. The point was, Huaisang didn't scream—not like that, not without reason. Xichen knew this, which prompted him to burst into Mingjue's private meeting room.

The guards stationed on each side of the door paid him no attention, yet it was evident that the screams were distressing them as much as they were troubling him. In a moment of empathy, Xichen dismissed them. Now, it was only him, a terrified A-Yao in one corner, and a screaming A-Sang in the opposite corner, all with Nie Mingjue positioned in the center. A surge of frustration made Xichen feel like shouting at the older man; why was he just standing there, doing nothing?

But then Huaisang's eyes fixed on him, and in that instant, he comprehended why. Xichen hadn't even reached him entirely, but the small figure was already shaking even more intensely, muttering a mantra of 'no's at the mere sight of him.

"A-Sang..." Xichen turned to Meng Yao, hoping for some semblance of an explanation, yet the youngest of the venerated triad simply shook his head in response.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid—" The pain in Mingjue's eyes swiftly dominated his entire expression. Within seconds, it was clear that none of them were allowed to approach and assist the child. "Daydreaming—no, no, something else—" They all stood frozen, listening to that trembling, little voice speak incoherently. "Going mad again, going mad again, I can't—wake up, stupid!"

"I've had enough." Xichen moved forward, his heart being repeatedly stabbed, but he brushed off the sensation. He knew a spell that had always worked on A-Zhan whenever the younger boy desperately needed rest but refused to nap or sleep at night. To employ it, though, he needed to get close to A-Sang. The protests of the other two were lost on him; he couldn't allow himself to halt. He had two options: either forcefully soothe A-Sang or risk the boy making himself sick, and he definitely didn't want the latter.

Once close enough, he crouched beside A-Sang and secured the small body, making him lean forward. Disregarding the resistance, Xichen tapped two of his fingers on various points on the boy's back, mentally counting each spot to prevent repeating any. With the final tap, A-Sang's entire body went limp in his arms.

"What exactly is going on here?" Both Yao and Mingjue breathed sighs of relief. The younger of the two slumped against the nearest wall, his body finally relaxing from its tense stance. Mingjue, despite his slightly clumsy gait, walked over to scoop Huaisang into his arms.

"While we were searching for him, we received word from the Wens. One of their disciples found him near the Burial Mounds during one of their purification sessions. They brought him here themselves, but he cried and struggled the whole time." Even with a sour expression, Da-Ge's gaze towards Huaisang was filled with profound affection.

"I don't think I've ever heard a 5-year-old describe themselves as crazy or talk about having hallucinations."

"He even thought he had been drugged. It's perplexing." Mingjue appeared profoundly reassured by the weight of his younger brother in his arms, as though the world had righted itself despite the preceding events. "I don't know how he ended up there, but could it be the Mounds affecting him?"

"It's a possibility. Let me play for him for a few hours, just to be certain. A-Yao, you should join me."

"Of course, Er-Ge."

They made their way to the inner gardens, A-Sang's favorite spot. The boy had quite the collection of singing birds here, some already so thrilled to see him that they chirped affectionately. Others seemed to sense something amiss, circling the garden with concern before settling down beside Huaisang on the blanket. Each day, Huaisang took a nap in the inner gardens, and fortunately, fresh blankets and a pillow had already been arranged, lightening the trio's workload. Typically, Mingjue would try to shoo the birds away, concerned they might disrupt his younger brother's sleep, but not today.

Worry for the Young Master of the Nie sect hung in the air, touching nearly everyone's thoughts.

Meng Yao nodded at him, a signal that he was ready to follow Xichen's lead. His fingers poised on the strings of his guqin, eager to alleviate A-Sang's distress.

Their harmony seamlessly melded a second later. Not a single note was amiss as they repeated the same melody until the sun descended, its brilliance even penetrating his closed eyelids. Struggling against it, he glanced at the weary Meng Yao and offered a smile—a cue that they were finished, signaled by the very last note.

Allowing himself to be drawn away, Xichen gazed down at the slumbering figures of A-Sang and Da-Ge, nestled beside each other. Da-Ge's arm encircled protectively around the boy, and Baxia, as vigilant as ever, patrolled the garden, ready to confront anyone foolish enough to approach her cherished charge. Baxia had always exhibited extreme possessiveness and protectiveness towards A-Sang, considering it her duty to look after him, from the moment Mingjue would set her down to the instant he would retrieve her. Even then, she would buzz in protest before being carried away by the tall man. Xichen could only imagine the level of anxiety she must have felt when A-Sang wasn't in his bed this morning. It must have been distressing even for her to now safeguard the entire garden, even from members of the Nie sect.

"Should we wake them?" He asked Meng Yao, his palms resting on the strings. "The Unclean Realm tends to be quite chilly at night, doesn't it?" Part of him fretted about them both catching a cold, yet another part recognized the unyielding resilience of Nie disciples. They trained for every conceivable circumstance, so wasn't it reasonable to assume they were accustomed to the cold? But even so... Xichen couldn't in good conscience allow them to sleep outdoors like this. "Never mind that," he decided, choosing to overlook A-Yao's evident amusement at his hesitancy. "They need proper beds to sleep in."

"As you wish, Er-Ge." However, their efforts ended up rousing Mingjue from his slumber. The young man's intent to kill vanished as quickly as it had flared across his face. It seemed unwise to abruptly awaken the young sect leader, especially after such an alarming incident. But in Lan Xichen's view, it was a necessary inconvenience.

"Go sleep inside, Da-Ge."

"Ah, A-Yao—" Mingjue stretched out on the grass, appearing just as weary as he had been that morning. But now, when he glanced down at the small figure beside him, a smile graced his lips. "Join me, you two." Xichen knew they both blushed at the proposition. "Baxia can watch over A-Sang tonight. It's been a while since I've had either of you in my bed, and I feel like after today, we all need it."

This man is going to be the death of me , Xichen mused to himself, once again choosing to politely disregard A-Yao's playful giggles.

Chapter Text

A-Yao wasn't accustomed to waking up earlier than Xichen, particularly when they shared a room. Yet, something felt distinctly wrong this time. With some reluctance, he abandoned the comfort of the spacious bed and warm covers, opting for his cold robes and the frigid air of the room. He cast a fond glance over at the bed, where Mingjue was still enfolded around Xichen. Smiling down at them, he already envisioned himself nestled between the two once again. But first, he needed to investigate.

He scanned the room with sharp eyes, honed to see even in the dimmest of conditions. Nothing appeared amiss here. So far, the only difference from when they had fallen asleep in each other's arms was the heat talisman that was no longer doing its job. However, Yao had activated it himself, and his core hadn't always functioned as it should, so it wasn't entirely surprising. Still, that didn't prevent him from activating another one, ensuring that his Lan lover wouldn't have to endure the same cold when he inevitably woke up before the Nie clan leader.

After one more thorough sweep of the room, he left quietly. The corridors were deserted except for him and the nighttime guards. They stood like statues, neither speaking nor even shifting their gaze in his direction. Yao didn't take offense to it, not anymore. He had long learned, since his initial time in the sect, that most of the guards refrained from speaking and thinking aloud, as their sharpened hearing was deemed paramount.

"The smallest of sounds can cause the greatest of misfortunes," Yao recited to himself, echoing the words of his Da-Ge. In truth, he felt fortunate to move around as he pleased, slipping into and out of any room without hindrance. No one bothered him, questioned him, or accused him of anything. There hadn't been a reason to, really. Meng Yao loved his Nie lover just as deeply as he did Xichen, and therefore, he managed to stay clear of trouble, or at least make sure his troubles remained hidden. Despite his small stature, he blended easily among the towering Nie disciples, effectively making himself inconspicuous.

However, now the situation was different. It was just him, and he walked with assurance down the corridor toward Huaisang's room.

"It's me, Baxia," he announced preemptively, before the saber had a chance to lunge at him. He entered the room with the same quietness he had departed his lover's chamber with and was surprised to find A-Sang already awake. "Oh, sweetheart." A flicker of pain passed over A-Sang's face before quickly vanishing. "Did Baxia wake you up?" The saber hissed in response to the accusation, yet remained stationed on A-Sang's pillow.

"No. Been awake." Nie Huaisang's quiet words felt uncharacteristic, his demeanor reserved. "San-Ge," he added, though it seemed there was no continuation to that thought—more like he was testing the taste of the words on his tongue.

"May I sit with you?" A-Sang nodded, though a clear hesitation was evident on his face. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?" Meng Yao truly wished he didn't have to dwell on it, but numerous scenarios played out in his mind, most of them disheartening. Amnesia, lingering possession, resentful energy taking hold of the boy and refusing to vacate or reveal itself until it was too late... He didn't want to entertain those ideas, yet he needed to be cautious in his choice of words. And in his actions too, he reminded himself as he settled on the floor in front of the bed, rather than perching on it as he typically would have.

"I remember the song."

"That's right, we played for you and your Da-Ge, and you both had a really good nap in the inner gardens." If that was the extent of his recollection, it indicated that he had truly been possessed the previous day. This still didn't clarify how he could have journeyed all the way to the Burial Mounds by himself. Nevertheless, Yao didn't discard the possibility that the possession could have originated within the Unclean Realm. Resentful spirits sometimes traversed vast distances for vengeance if they possessed enough strength, enhancing their host's body even if it meant destroying it in the process.

There are two possibilities here: either a spirit from the Mounds managed to come all the way here and found A-Sang first. It might have led him back to the Burial Mounds to become a host for the weaker spirits there. Alternatively, it could have been a spirit from the cells that wanted to take revenge by pushing A-Sang into the Mounds. We can't know for sure now.

"San-Ge– I don't feel well." That was the only warning Meng Yao received before Nie Huaisang leapt off his bed, throwing himself into the older man's arms. The sobs coming from such a tiny body did nothing to quell Meng Yao's already anxious heart. All he could do was gently sway A-Sang back and forth, much like he used to when the boy was just a baby. He rubbed his back in tandem and allowed him to cry it out. "H–hu… it hurts so m–much!"

I have a feeling that if you keep wailing like this, love, we'll both end up in tears soon. Your poor little lungs.

"What hurts, A-Sang?" He could barely hear himself over the boy's crying, so he spoke directly into A-Sang's ear to ensure the message got through. It took a while of stuttering, compounded by the boy's slight lisp, but eventually A-Sang managed to let out a broken 'everything,' shattering Yao's heart all over again. "Precious boy, I'm sorry," he muttered, the apology hanging in the air with no specific target. Perhaps it was for his inability to provide anything more than comfort. For his inability to physically snatch the pain away and pummel it into submission before letting Da-Ge obliterate it mercilessly. "Can you tell San-Ge what hurts most?"

"H–head—"

"Good job, A-Sang. I'm so, so proud of you." A headache, something Yao could address on his own. He pressed a talisman against the boy's forehead and activated it, infusing waves of healing spiritual energy. Yao was acutely aware that by using this healing talisman from Xichen, the heating talisman in Da-Ge's room would deplete more swiftly, but he was confident that no one would blame him for prioritizing A-Sang's well-being. "It's going to be alright."

He wasn't sure if that was a false promise or not, but his words were laden with genuine hope and faith. If he couldn't help directly, he would seek aid from others. If they were incapable as well, they'd continue to search for those who could provide assistance. Yao would willingly give away all he possessed if it meant securing a peaceful and happy existence for the boy. In a world that had been unkind to him, A-Sang had remained steadfastly on Yao's side, offering smiles and concern even when Yao forgot to wear his own mask of happiness.

A-Sang deserved nothing but the best. Whatever this ordeal was—whatever had transpired the previous day, whatever awaited today or tomorrow, and whatever challenges lay beyond—Yao was determined to face it head-on. They had no choice but to persevere.

Chapter Text

After a week of constant praise, reassurance, and letting Huaisang cling to him like a determined baby panda, the boy had managed to mostly return to his usual self, the one the triad knew and cherished.

However, it took a few more days to console Huaisang after Meng Yao's departure from the Nie sect. The younger man had long yearned to fulfill his filial duties, and his father, Jin Guangshan, had finally chosen to acknowledge him as his son. Mingjue was certain that Yao was not being treated properly in his new environment, but he knew he couldn't intervene unless Yao sought his assistance.

"Da-Ge! Can I come to Jinlin Tai with you?" Huaisang's eager voice piped up.

"Oh? Do you want to visit your San-Ge?" Mingjue couldn't help but smile at how adorable his little brother looked in his fresh robes. The sleeves were wide and perhaps overly long, draping over his hands down to his fingertips. A-Sang had left his outer robe untied as a personal choice, and the ravens embroidered on it matched the raven depicted on his fan today.

"Uh-huh! And I want to show A-Xuan my drawing! His father is in it too! Can I show it to them?"

"Is it appropriate?" Mingjue inquired cautiously. His younger brother was still quite far from the age when such drawings would be suitable, but knowing Huaisang's knack for surprises, he had to double-check.

"Da-Ge!"

"Just making sure!"

Mingjue had simultaneously dreaded and anticipated this meeting. While it might not hold significant importance, it still carried weight. Meng Yao had chosen to leave the Nie sect to join the Jins, yet there were lingering contractual matters that had been somehow overlooked. While Mingjue didn't consider them crucial, he was prepared to let them be if Meng Yao wished to return to them. However, Jin Guangshan had other ideas. Instead of treating Meng Yao like a son, as the situation dictated, he was behaving as though he had acquired the younger man.

Mingjue's patience with Jin Guangshan had always been on the fragile side, and his temper was widely known. One more instance of mistreatment towards Yao could very well push Mingjue to his limit, and in such a state, he wouldn't hesitate to resort to violence with Baxia close at hand.

"That better be the only fan you're taking with you, though," Mingjue stated with a tinge of exasperation. Almost immediately, a fan fell from one of Huaisang's sleeves. "Heaven help me find patience," Mingjue muttered under his breath.

__________

"Thank you for your patience, Chifeng-Zun. Very much appreciated." The man wore a slick smirk, one that Mingjue had an urge to wipe off with his saber. However, with both A-Sang and A-Yao present in the room, resorting to violence would be a challenging endeavor. Even in their absence, the difficulty of concealing a murder weighed heavily on his mind.

"Of course," Mingjue offered a bow as per protocol, preparing to take his leave. Yet, a small hand grabbed hold of his robes, detaining him. "Oh, speaking of patience," he continued, "A-Sang wanted to show A-Xuan a painting." The tugs on his robes persisted. "He would also like you to see it, if you could please indulge him." Another tug on his robes. Despite the elder's obvious lack of inclination to entertain anyone's whims, Mingjue stared him down with unyielding determination.

My brother recently endured immense suffering. I won't deny him anything, and neither will you.

Though the Nie Young Master would typically halt such demands, the undeniable truth was that Huaisang was still in recovery. Mingjue had no desire to witness those heart-wrenching sobs again anytime soon—or better yet, ever.

"Very well. Speaking of favors, though–”

Oh my fucking lords above, what the fuck could you fucking want now?

“I left a scroll in my study that requires your signature. Jin Guangyao is going to lead you there while A-Sang and I take a look at his painting.”

Mingjue glanced at Meng Yao, who seemed slightly panicked.

“Father, wouldn't you prefer if we all went together? We wouldn’t want to separate the brothers for too long after all.”

“Non-sense. The Young Master is old enough to be on his own for a while. Or is it Chifeng-Zun I have to worry about?”

“Fine by me. Don’t take long, A-Sang.” His little brother hummed but didn’t yet move. He watched him and Meng Yao leave the room, and Mingjue felt bad now. His brother appeared a bit sad at the idea and even hesitated to see them off, as if wanting to follow. Whatever the reason, he knew his brother was very stubborn and would eventually do what he had asked for. “You were limping,” he noted. “And you didn’t visit either of us for it to make sense.” He added, quite shamelessly enjoying the blush spreading all over Yao’s face and down his neck.

“Don’t be crass! I tripped over my robes, that’s all.”

“I don’t know why, but I don’t quite believe you. But let it be as you wish.” He would never pressure Meng Yao into anything, not even into asking for help. “Do you know what your father wants me to sign?”

“The Wen are sealing off the Burial Mounds,” he said with a seriousness that Mingjue hadn’t heard in a long time. “They’ve been trying for years to calm and purify it, but after what happened with Huaisang… they don’t want anyone else to have access to it.” They wanted to build a wall to cover all the access points before putting an array on it and calling it a day.

“And why is that my sect’s problem?” There came a familiar sigh from the shorter man, a sigh that told Mingjue ‘fuck if I know, this man is driving me mad’.

“The Wen need help with the physical labor, so they’ve sent out a scroll. Every single little sect is on it, and everyone has to write down the number of disciples they’re sending.”

So there is no choice in it. We have to send our disciples to do the labor work of others, and if we don’t… who knows what those Wen dogs are planning.

“Your father is basically too cheap to send me mail, so now he makes me sign it in person. Honestly.” What else could he really expect from a Jin?

How else would they accumulate so much wealth if their own sect leader wasn't a penny-pincher?

"Da-Ge? Where's Baxia?" Came out of nowhere.

"I left it with A-Sang. Why?" Just then, as if the universe conspired, the thunderous thud of heavy boots echoed from the corridors they had traveled through moments ago.

"What's going on?" Mingjue demanded, though the Jin guards wore expressions of unease, none of them spoke up.

"What's your purpose here?" Yao's voice dripped with authority, a demeanor that felt out of character to Mingjue. "My father assigned us a task, are you trying to delay us?"

"The Sect Leader... he's dead."

"Excuse me?!"

__________

The reality faced by Mingjue was far from a content one as he took in the gruesome sight before him. Baxia had impaled herself in a grotesque display that defied explanation, marked by a chaotic array of cuts, slashes, and punctures. The horror of the scene left Mingjue at a loss, unable to fathom the depths of the brutality on display. In a corner of the room, his brother's tearful cries resonated, a heart-wrenching symphony accompanied by the abandoned painting on the former sect leader's table.

"A-Sang," Mingjue's voice cut through the tension, a blend of sternness and concern. "What happened here?" His attempt at maintaining a neutral stance was a challenge, for the situation cast a shadow over the entirety of the Nie sect. Though Mingjue himself was absent, the responsibility still fell on his shoulders due to Baxia's actions. He refused to jump to conclusions, even though the possibilities were disturbingly vast. The thought of Huaisang commanding Baxia to commit such an act due to a displeased reaction to his painting was an unsettling notion, but it was just one among many in the chaotic mix. He refrained from uttering the accusatory ‘What have you done?’—instead, he sought clarity.

A-Sang's silence persisted, prompting Mingjue to approach with cautious steps. It was then that A-Sang seemed to fully register Mingjue's presence, a semblance of relief in his tear-stained gaze. Yet, as Mingjue moved to reach out, A-Sang's cry halted him in his tracks.

"Okay, I won't touch you. But you need to tell me what's happening here, Huaisang."

"H–He... my arm…" For the first time in a while, Mingjue truly scrutinized him and took note. A-Sang's inner robes gaped open, revealing blood trailing down his neck. The sight of fingerprints imprinted on his skin ignited a sense of alarm.

Why had those damned fingerprints found their way onto his brother's body? Neck, chest... and now his arm?  

The implications raced through Mingjue's mind, conjuring a sense of outrage and dread. His thoughts raced ahead, piecing together the gruesome puzzle.

"Show me your arm, A-Sang." The command was issued with urgency, and Mingjue's heart sank at the sight that met his eyes. A vivid purple handprint marred A-Sang's arm, accompanied by a rapidly spreading discoloration that transitioned from purple to an ominous black. The broken bone was evident, the signs of trauma painting a painful picture of what his brother had endured. The realization dawned: A-Sang's huddled state in the corner had been an attempt to shield his already injured arm from further harm.

Curses surged through Mingjue's thoughts, a vehement frustration directed towards Jin Guangshan. The man's fortunate escape from the world of the living spared him from Mingjue's wrath, and yet, the injustice of the situation boiled within. "You're a lucky fucking bastard, Jin Guangshan. Luckier still that you're already fucking dead." The words were laced with a seething anger that resonated through the air.

__________

There had been no trial, as the elders, Madam Jin, and even the Jin doctors proclaimed the fingerprints as incontrovertibly the former sect leader's. A-Sang's broken arm and the disconcerting handprint were irrefutable evidence, enough to summon the Lan sect for corroborating testimony. Through their spells, everything had been revealed.

After Meng Yao and Mingjue had exited the room, A-Sang had cautiously approached the man's table. He'd scarcely unfurled the scroll and set it down before chaos erupted. Arms had seized him, a letter opener threatened his neck, and hands began to undo his robes. The ordeal had been mercifully brief, for Mingjue had averted his gaze, unwilling to witness more.

A devastating qi deviation, unfurling its effects in the worst possible moment—around his cherished little brother.

"Resolve your fucking issues," Mingjue's biting words echoed through the courtroom as he left. His focus was singular: his brother's well-being. The presence of Meng Yao and Lan Huan at his side didn't prompt any protests. The harsh admonishment he'd directed at the Jin sect was not a personal attack on Meng Yao, though he hoped the younger understood that. Right now, articulating his turbulent thoughts was beyond him. "What if I wouldn’t have left Baxia with him?" The question hung in the air, rhetorical and unanswered.

"I’m sorry," Meng Yao’s voice, laden with empathy, pierced the silence.

"It’s not your fault that your father was a piece of shit," Mingjue retorted candidly.

"Da-Ge—"

"No, Xichen." Mingjue's voice softened as he leaned closer to Meng Yao, locking eyes to convey the gravity of his words. "If Baxia hadn’t done for Huaisang today, I would've done it for you sooner or later. Your father's promises, whatever they were, wouldn't have been honored. He was a wretched mess, and despite his dalliances, Madam Jin would've never legitimized you if you posed a threat in the battle of heirs." Mingjue's heart ached as he witnessed Yao on the brink of tears. His words were painful but truthful, unraveling the facade the younger had built to secure his father's approval. "I'm sorry, love." Mingjue extended a gentle hand, relieved when Yao didn't recoil. It was a testament to the trust between them. "I love both of you dearly, but there are lines I won't let anyone cross. Did he ask you to kill me yet?" The stunned expression on Yao's face provided all the answers needed.

"I'm—"

"Shh, no need for apologies," Mingjue's gentle voice interrupted. "You haven't done anything wrong, my precious heart. We love you deeply. It's vital for both of us that you understand you're so much more than your father's legacy or a mere courtesy name." Xichen's smile echoed the sentiment, affirming Mingjue's words and their shared conviction. "We merely thought you wouldn't want to obscure your true self with something as trivial as a name. You possess intelligence, beauty, and magnificence. If people can't appreciate that without a name, they're blind and entirely mistaken."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Yao drew them both close in an embrace, an intimate gesture that brought solace after the events of the day. "I love you both so deeply!"

"A-Yao has done really well today. You must be exhausted after everything," Xichen praised, his graceful fingers brushing through Yao's hair. "I'll take him for a moment to rest. Perhaps you should check on A-Sang and let us know about his condition."

After a brief exchange of affectionate kisses, Mingjue released them both, offering a gentle pat on their heads and a reassuring smile. However, his expression shifted upon entering the infirmary. His brother occupied a private section adorned with talismans. Some were familiar to Mingjue, especially those providing warmth and protection, which he recognized better than the healing symbols. Noticing a cooling talisman on A-Sang's forehead and another heating charm on his blankets, Mingjue recalled the healers mentioning A-Sang's fever.

"What am I to do with you, A-Sang?" Mingjue mused aloud, his attention drifting to a neatly folded robe on a nearby table. "You might want your fan when you wake." Reaching for the outer robe, his hand barely fit through the sleeve, yet he managed to grasp something unexpected. It wasn't the fan. Instead, he pulled out a finely crafted mini guqin.

Mingjue's surprise deepened as he observed the mini guqin he had pulled from the sleeve. He stared at it, noticing it was also covered in blood. He wondered when A-Sang had managed to pack this delicate instrument. He speculated that perhaps A-Sang had intended to share with Yao the new musical notes he had learned the week before. "Such a meticulous didi," he spoke to himself, his mind wandering. "At this point, I might as well let him cultivate literally anything else. I wonder if he can somehow cultivate with birds?"

Chapter Text

Nie Huaisang wasn't about to deceive himself, though he might fib to others if the opportunity arose. Admitting that being sent back in time was far from his desired outcome didn't come easily. Nor was his initial reaction to the situation any different, but then again, who could blame him?

Initially, Nie Huaisang had been attempting to communicate with the spirits dwelling within the Burial Mounds. In hindsight, it wasn't the wisest decision, but spirits understood spirits, and he had hoped one of them might shed light on their fate. He had spent days there, relentlessly playing the guqin to fulfill the demands of a melody he had come across in the Lan library. Unfortunately, both his mental and physical states were deteriorating. In what Huaisang now speculates was a case of qi deviation, he struck the wrong note. The next thing he remembered, a Wen disciple was assisting him off the ground and dispatching messages to the Unclean Realm.

Initially, he had managed to maintain a semblance of composure. After all, his previous life hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows. Even during his first time through, he had been aware of the impending war and had encountered less-than-friendly Wen forces. Dreams involving the Wen weren't frequent but still recurring enough that Huaisang had entertained the notion of waiting it out. Despite his struggles, he found himself being carried by the Wen disciples on their swords.

Yet, everything shifted when his Da-Ge appeared at the gate to collect him. Even then, Huaisang convinced himself that it was possibly okay for a dream. However, when Meng Yao materialized right after, that was the catalyst for Huaisang's unraveling. Overwhelmed by sobs and fear, he questioned his sanity, wondering if he had lost his mind despite the copious amounts of calming tea he had forced himself to consume daily.

Avoiding the touch of either apparition, he rejected Lan Xichen's comforting presence as well. Allowing either of them to make contact would have made everything more real, more tangible than he could bear. Regrettably, his Er-Ge insisted on rendering him unconscious. Hours later, he awakened in what was once his old chamber, confronted with a reality that seemed almost too implausible to grasp.

The room's walls still cradled his dearest paintings, while bookshelves held a collection of volumes on fashion, painting techniques, fans, and even an odd book on sabers. Yet, that saber book, just like many others, had turned to ashes along with his previous life. Surveying his surroundings, he arrived at the only plausible deduction: he had been flung back to a time when everything was still intact. A time when the Venerated Triad actually existed, when he was both a small yet precocious child, and before the onset of tragedy.

He took his time mulling over it all, and each element stung. The familiar books, paintings, the faces of guards stationed outside his door, his own brother's visage, and even the pre-transformation countenance of Meng Yao... they all carried a pang of pain. Meng Yao's desire to engage, to care, like before, triggered something within Huaisang. He permitted himself a cathartic cry in Meng Yao's embrace, admonishing himself that this Meng Yao had yet to commit any significant acts that affected those he cared about. And that singular realization marked the inception.

Nevertheless, snapping back from the frightened child he was when the Wen discovered him proved an insurmountable task. He committed to the role, shadowing his Da-Ge's every move, resisting any separation, and dissolving into sobs if Mingjue hinted at a moment alone. Some aspects required no pretense. It was difficult to see his brother – living, breathing, walking, vibrantly alive, and not met by death – without the gnawing apprehension that he might fade come the following day. Thus, for a span of no less than a week, Huaisang compelled himself to validate permanence, confirming his firm entrapment within the past.

Afterward, albeit sooner than anticipated, Meng Yao gained his father's approval and a minor courtesy name, adorned with a rather ridiculous yellow robe. Even now, Huaisang remembered despising that color on his San-Ge during his prior experience. This time around, he detested having to act as the distressed child, necessitating a few days of recuperation after his beloved San-Ge's departure from the Unclean Realm.

Next, he talked Mingjue into taking him to Jinlin Tai, under the guise of presenting a painting he had ostensibly created of Jin Zixuan and his father. In truth, he hadn't painted anything, and his connection with Zixuan wasn't that deep. But desperate situations called for unconventional solutions, and upon learning from one of the maids that 'the heir of the Jin sect is unwell, poor thing,' Huaisang realized an audience with Zixuan would be an impossibility from the start. Despite feeling anxious in Jin Guangshan's presence, he understood he had to do what was necessary.

He observed as his two older brothers left the room, allowing him to reach into his sleeve. His fingers began coaxing the guqin's strings, its familiar melody – the one that had once cost his brother his life – filled the air. The sect leader even commented on its beauty, but asked, 'Where is it coming from?' as Huaisang's hand remained concealed beneath his long sleeves. As he inched closer to the man, the same cursed note that had shattered everything the first time around resounded. At last, Huaisang discovered why disciples had needed to restrain Mingjue that day.

The man convulsed seemingly out of nowhere. Approaching him so closely had been a grave miscalculation, but Huaisang noticed at the last instant that Baxia was in the room. Just as he called for Baxia, his arm was already fractured, his neck nicked by a letter opener, and the man had attempted to grab him multiple times, leaving black fingerprints imprinted all over his body as his robes unraveled. He didn't need to feign his aversion to Mingjue's touch. To claim that it hadn't been slightly traumatic would be a lie, but the outcome was undeniably worthwhile.

The next day, he awoke to the sight of Meng Yao placing flowers in a vase on his bedside table. His older brother was adorned in Nie colors, sporting the traditional Nie braids – a stark and reassuring contrast.

"You're so beautiful," he found himself uttering, and for once, it wasn't a fabrication. He wasn't hiding behind a fan or dispensing compliments for the sake of it. In his previous life, Meng Yao had been one of his closest friends in the Unclean Realm, despite their age difference. Back then, Huaisang would have given anything to see Meng Yao officially recognized within the sect, bestowed with a courtesy name and proper robes – the full package.

"A-Sang! You little flatterer!" Despite the words, his San-Ge beamed down at him, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead. "Thank you. You're so, so adorable."

On that day, he believed the broken arm was a price worth paying. Even now, days later, he still held to that belief. Nonetheless, there remained a slew of matters he needed to address.

Certain matters, he figured, could be postponed. The Wen sect leader and his sons could wait; after all, they were nothing more than a bunch of useless brats with likely weaker golden cores than his own.

Wei Wuxian, however, couldn't wait. A visit to Yiling was in order.

Yet, there appeared to be downsides to being as small and endearing as he currently was. Just as he was about to enter his Da-Ge's conference room, a pair of dainty hands lifted him by the waist.

"And where do you think you're off to?" A-Yao teased. Huaisang knew he could banter in return, and he would have, had the darn traitor not begun to sway him gently.

"San-Ge, let go!" He attempted to squirm out of the relaxed hold, but an unanticipated weakness engulfed his body, rendering him feeling soft and pliable.

"Now, now, I believe our young master is in need of a nap."

Huaisang detested him. He blacked out even before reaching his chambers.

__________

Later, after his nap, he woke up in a grumpy mood. It took an hour of bird songs to soothe him enough to face the world, especially Meng Yao. Meng Yao was a traitor, unworthy of any of Huaisang's adorableness.

"Da-Ge!" He barged through the doors this time, running as fast as his little legs could carry him to avoid being lifted again. "I need help, Da-Ge."

"Oh?" Huaisang would shoot him a glare if he didn't require assistance, for Mingjue's smirk seemed to convey 'what's the matter?'. Huaisang was gradually convinced that his own Da-Ge wasn't deserving of his cuteness either.

"I want to visit my friend. He's all the way in Yiling though." Mingjue's smirk faded into a frown. It was a stretch, truly. Yiling wasn't the obvious destination for people of their wealth and status; it was renowned for its insignificance.

"A-Sang, you've never been to Yiling. How would you have a friend there?"

"Silly Da-Ge, my friend is visiting. He doesn't live there! He's from Gusu!" Of course, the friend did reside in Yiling, but that wasn't something Mingjue needed to know. Huaisang silently congratulated himself for fabricating lies on the fly – a sure sign that he was improving at it. "He sent a letter yesterday! He said he'd show me around Yiling!"

"I'm not so sure about that, A-Sang. Yiling isn't..."

The safest place. Not for someone my age. I know that. Wei Wuxian is living evidence of that fact. But I must fetch him before Madam Yu can snatch him later. I've studied the records. Had she not given him that brutal whipping, much of what unfolded might have been prevented. And then A-Cheng wouldn't have transformed into the person the loss of his entire family shaped him into. I've done what I could to help him with Jin Ling, but ultimately…

Part of why he had ended up at the Burial Mounds in his first life was due to this very reason. Secrets had been unveiled, Meng Yao was deceased, and his Da-Ge's spirit appeared to have found the retribution it sought. Yet, Huaisang had desired to converse with the souls within the Mounds. His intention hadn't been to journey back in time – that notion had never crossed his mind. What he sought was a solution, for even though everyone's lives had been realigned, certain bonds lay shattered, and they would remain in tatters unless Huaisang could do something, anything, to fix it.

Currently, he was acutely aware of the ticking clock. Not on his life, certainly not. Nonetheless, he felt himself slipping away, his adult thoughts gradually dissolving into those befitting his age. Currently, these were fleeting instances, but who could guarantee that a mere passing wish to fly kites and chase birds wouldn't soon metamorphose into authentic temper tantrums and distress particular to a child his age? He aimed to accomplish everything before that transpired, before his rejuvenated age fully caught up to him.

"Please, Da-Ge? Pretty please?" Employing his most potent puppy-dog eyes, large and brimming with tears, coupled with a carefully jutted lower lip that trembled for effect, he gazed at his elder sibling.

Nie Mingjue was a doomed man. He gave in without hesitation.

__________

Locating Wei Wuxian proved to be more challenging than anticipated. It wasn't due to the boy's adeptness at concealing himself, but rather because nearly every other little boy roaming Yiling's streets sported tattered and grimy attire. These youngsters sifted through discarded refuse before being admonished and shooed away.

I knew Yiling was impoverished, but... isn't this a bit extreme?

Even the wealthiest of vendors wore clothing that paled in comparison to the attire donned by Nie vendors. Nevertheless, they maintained a semblance of politeness and refrained from excessive shouting around Da-Ge. Word of his brother's notorious temper had seemingly spread far and wide, and the protective inclination toward his younger sibling appeared to be widely acknowledged. They all seemed to adjust their behavior to prevent upsetting Huaisang, which, in turn, might irk Nie Mingjue and subsequently the entire Nie sect.

"Ah, Da-Ge! I just remembered—" Despite being face to face with his brother, Huaisang continued tugging at the man's robes to capture his attention. Nie Mingjue had already decreed that Huaisang wouldn't be allowed to set foot on the ground until the vicinity was thoroughly surveyed by Nie disciples. Consequently, the elder brother had been cradling him in his arms throughout their excursion. "—we're supposed to head to the inn! He'll be there!"

Lan Wangji should be there. If I recall correctly, he crosses paths briefly with Wei Wuxian.

In their previous life, they may not have been the closest of friends, but he and Lan Zhan still occasionally spent time together when their elder siblings organized gatherings. Huaisang recollected Lan Zhan mentioning he had parted with one of his toys, bestowing it upon a boy in Yiling. Given their proclivity for finding each other regardless of the circumstances, Huaisang presumed the boy Lan Zhan had encountered back then was likely Wei Ying. Even if he wasn't, the timing should be just right. 

"That sounds like a plan. Let's secure a room first and then returned here with your friend," Nie Mingjue suggested.

As they drew nearer to the inn, Huaisang's optimism dwindled. They had combed through the entirety of Yiling, yet Lan Zhan was conspicuously absent.

"Could you please put me down, Da-Ge?" Huaisang's use of ‘please’ was a rarity in his previous life, especially at this age. However, he had since realized that a bit of politeness could often secure him what he most wanted, particularly when his tone was sufficiently sweet. As expected, though accompanied by a cautious order to be careful, Mingjue set him down gently on the ground. "Thank you!" He darted ahead, the inn's entrance close at hand. Without hesitation, he rushed inside, heading straight for the innkeeper. "Excuse me, sir! Is my friend here?"

"Young Master! And who might your friend be?" The innkeeper responded with surprising earnestness. Huaisang had anticipated a less receptive reaction, but then again, he was clad in fine garments. Such expensive clothing, combined with the potential for tips from affluent families for even the most basic of services, could very well lead the innkeeper to assist the young master in his search for a friend.

Continuing to look around the inn, Huaisang was on the verge of informing the man that he was in search of his ‘good friend, Young Master Lan’, when luck found itself on his side.

Behold, there stood the very person he was looking for! Lan Zhan, accompanied by his uncle, descended the stairs methodically, Qiren's watchful gaze fixed unwaveringly on his nephew. It was as if he was afraid that Lan Zhan might bolt, a reaction that many children his age might have but knowing Lan Zhan, the man’s efforts were not needed. In fact, Huaisang felt a similar impulse, and very much unlike his friend, he acted upon it.

"Lan Zhan!" He hollered as he approached, almost toppling the boy with his enthusiastic embrace. "Go along with whatever I say, please. It's important," he whispered into Lan Zhan's ear before loosening his grip just enough to gaze into the other boy's eyes. Lan Zhan was no fool, Huaisang realized. "I'm so happy you sent me that letter! I've missed our playtime together." Huaisang's voice regained its former volume and pitch, and his focus remained fixed on Lan Zhan's countenance. While the boy's face displayed no overt emotion, Huaisang noticed a glint in his eyes that indicated Lan Zhan was willing to cooperate and play along, if anything for the sake of seeing how far Huaisang was going to take it.

"A-Sang," Qiren interjected, coughing discreetly into his fist. The sternness in his expression was unmistakable, though truthfully, Huaisang could not recall a single instance when Qiren had displayed anything but sternness. A bow was expected, and he performed it as hastily as he would have in his prior life. "Lan Zhan wrote you a letter? I was unaware of this." Lan Zhan himself remained silent, his eyebrow slightly arched, a silent dare for Huaisang to assume responsibility for the charade he’d started.

"Mm! He mentioned that he and his uncle would be here, and that perhaps we could walk around together. Is that fine?" Just then, as if fortune had not yet abandoned him, Nie Mingjue appeared in the doorway and immediately locked eyes with Lan Qiren.

Good. The adults can talk while Lan Zhan and search for Wei Ying.

He paid them no mind, instead, he grabbed one of Lan Zhan’s hands and dragged him out of the inn. He briefly ran back in and towards the counter, where he left a piece of jade, before making his way back out to a slightly annoyed Lan Zhan.

“Why are you lying?” A-Zhan whispered to him. The Lan boy still allowed A-Sang to hold his hand and pull him further away from the inn.

“Against the rules, I know. I need your help,” he said, as seriously as he could. Huaisang felt lucky that he and A-Zhan were the same age; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been taken seriously. He was shorter than most kids his age, and his cheeks were still full of baby fat – no adult took him seriously! “Did you already meet A-Ying?” Lan Zhan pulled away at once.

“How do you know that?”

“That doesn’t matter. I need you to tell your uncle about him. A-Ying is cold and sad; his parents died in a night hunt.” Huaisang could see Lan Zhan trying to process all of it. He was sure Lan Zhan knew what ‘dead’ meant, even if he didn’t fully comprehend it. And Huaisang didn’t expect him to. All he needed Lan Zhan to do was feel bad and talk his uncle into taking Wei Ying into his sect. “Plus–” he thought quickly “–your uncle knew his mother!”

“Huaisang…” Lan Zhan was frowning, but Huaisang could tell that he had the boy on his side. Their respective guardians were only steps away; the boy had to make a decision soon, or all of Huaisang’s efforts would be fruitless.

“He’s going to freeze to death here,” Huaisang added as a last resort, sounding more serious than he ever could with his high-pitched voice and big, pleading eyes.

“What are you two even doing?” Mingjue asked, and neither of them answered. They kept looking into each other’s eyes, both determined. “Did you have a fight already?” A pair of strong arms picked Huaisang up, but the eye contact never broke.

“Uncle,” Lan Zhan started, little hands forming into fists. “I need help.”

Hell yeah.

__________

Huaisang watched as Lan Qiren picked up a trembling Wei Ying, and he politely ignored it when the man seemed to be allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. Qiren squeezed the boy to his chest, and to Huaisang, it looked as if the man was trying to connect to the old classmates he’d lost through the hug.

“We will take this one back to Gusu. They would have wanted me to,” Qiren told Mingjue, his voice trembling. Even the older Nie brother didn’t dare point it out; it was clear that the man needed a moment, and the sooner they were back in Gusu, the sooner it could happen.

They probably would have hoped for the Jiangs to take him, but Huaisang would rather die than watch it happen. Madam Yu can go to hell and cry about it. He's won this time around.

Chapter Text

Meng Yao observed Huaisang closely, his eyes narrowed in thought. Huaisang was seated on his brother's lap, a common sight since the Burial Mounds incident.

What intrigued Meng Yao was Huaisang's streak of luck. Not long ago, the boy had ventured to Yiling under the guise of visiting a friend. Yet, it had resulted in Lan Qiren taking a homeless boy to Gusu. Nowadays, a certain Lan Ying visited intermittently, accompanied by Lan Zhan. The trio appeared inseparable, and Huaisang seemed to embrace their company, even inviting them for tea.

Meng Yao didn't harbor ill feelings toward the youngsters. He rather enjoyed observing their interactions and spending time with Xichen at the same time. Moreover, Lan Zhan's influence kept their antics in check, keeping Lan Ying and Nie Huaisang out of trouble most of the time . The rest of the time… well, Meng Yao simply had to deal with the outcome.

However, the timing raised questions. Huaisang awoke at the Burial Mounds, and soon after, the Wen sect made an attempt to seal it. Why target Huaisang? Why not a Wen? Given each sect's history of violence, why single him out? Could it be vengeful spirits seeking retribution, but then, why Huaisang?

Additionally, during Huaisang's visit, Jin Guangshan faced his death. Why had Huaisang brought a guqin when their purpose was mere conversation? The guqin usually resided under his bed, seldom played according to Huaisang’s teachers. Why carry it? Could it be a result of secret practice?

Furthermore, the elusive book that was meant to be stolen had disappeared. Xichen had been generous in sharing that information with him. Shortly before Jin Guangshan's demise, A-Sang visited Cloud Recesses.

All these occurrences left Meng Yao wondering: What were the odds?

__________

"Hey, A-Sang," Yao approached Huaisang, finding him alone in his inner gardens. "Mind if I talk to you for a minute?"

"Mn," Huaisang responded with his usual agreeable manner.

Amid the serious matter at hand, Yao couldn't help but be taken by how utterly adorable his lover's younger brother looked. Dressed in finely crafted earthy green robes adorned with ravens, Huaisang's chubby cheeks stood out against his recently slimmed-down figure. The fan he carried boasted a raven sketch, a little unsteady but charming. Picking up the Young Master, Yao noticed a brief tensing in his body – a subtle reaction that didn't escape his attention. Carrying him in his arms, Yao proposed heading inside, hinting that Nie Mingjue was still in a meeting.

"Let's go inside for a bit," Yao suggested, implying privacy. As they walked, he discreetly placed a soundproof talisman within Huaisang's room, ensuring their conversation remained confidential.

"That's unnecessary," Huaisang commented seriously, his demeanor oddly mature for his age. Pointing to his bed, he revealed a talisman beneath it.

Yao's heart raced, panic rising within him. A child Huaisang's age shouldn't possess the ability to create talismans, and the casual way he mentioned it suggested that it had been there for a while. It dawned on Yao that Huaisang's cultivation was stronger than typical for his age, which was unusual. Yao realized he had never felt the boy's core before – it was as if it had been shielded from him.

In a mix of shock and worry, Yao unintentionally dropped Huaisang onto the ground, hastily stepping back. Although he wanted to apologize, Huaisang landed on his feet and looked up at Yao, seemingly unfazed by the incident.

"You're not Huaisang," Meng Yao stated, his fingers already inching towards the hilt of his sword, though he refrained from drawing it just yet.

"I am, actually. Just not your Huaisang," this other version of Huaisang replied in a calm manner, seemingly unfazed by Yao's defensive posture. "No need to be hostile; I haven't done anything harmful."

"You killed my father," Yao accused, not anticipating the straightforward response he received.

"He wanted Da-Ge dead," Huaisang countered. "Where I was from, he did die. You also died, taken down into the pits of Hell by Da-Ge's fierce corpse."

Distrust still lingered in Yao's eyes as he probed further, testing this peculiar Huaisang. "How do I know you're telling the truth? You could be a spirit possessing the body of Nie Huaisang."

"Ask me anything," Huaisang challenged. "Not about me, about you. If I were an evil spirit, I wouldn't know those things about you. And if I weren't from the future, I also wouldn't know those things about you. So ask away."

Struggling to process this unexpected situation, Yao seized the chance to inquire about his past. "My mother—"

"Prostitute," the words sounded oddly wrong coming from a six-year-old. "Jin Guangshan slept with her, told her she was special, gave her a pearl as a token and promised to help her. But it wasn't true, was it? She tried to join the educated prostitutes but was rejected when she was pregnant with you. Still, she went ahead to teach you cultivation from books."

Yao was taken aback. How could this child know such personal details, information he had never shared with even Mingjue?

"She fell seriously ill around the time you turned ten, but Sisi took care of her. She remained sickly to this day," Huaisang continued, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. "As for the future, she survived until a major war, though I lacked the details even back then. I suggest asking Da-Ge to free her from that life and seek treatment here."

"But he wouldn't do that. Why would he?" Yao questioned skeptically.

"Because he loves you," this version of Huaisang answered bluntly, causing Meng Yao to falter. "In my timeline, if you hadn't been so busy being an asshole, you might have even gotten married. But instead, you chose to kill Da-Ge."

Yao's voice rose in denial, his emotions overtaking him. "You're lying! I would never do that! I would never kill him!"

"But you did. You— you did it right in front of me," Huaisang persisted, his words a painful reminder of events Yao couldn't recall as it had not yet happened. 

"No, that's not right! I wasn't planning to... I was going to follow my father's plans and then escape at the last moment!" Yao's thoughts raced, trying to make sense of his past, or better yet, future actions. Why had his plans changed? What had driven him to kill Mingjue?

"Guangshan promised you the throne," Huaisang said, his voice somehow both accusatory and sympathetic. Yao slumped against the wall, his knees giving way beneath him until he collapsed onto the ground.

"Why are you telling me all of this? It's too much," Yao whispered, his emotions overwhelming him.

"Because I need you to believe me," the child continued, his words urgent. "I couldn't have this conversation with the Meng Yao I knew. I should hate you, but I reminded myself that out of all your actions, I only ever cared about you killing Da-Ge. Everything else, I couldn't have cared less about."

Yao realized that because he hadn't killed Mingjue in this timeline, this version of Huaisang didn't hold the same animosity toward him. His thoughts spiraled as he questioned his own motives. Had he truly been so obsessed with power that he had forsaken his love for Mingjue? Had he been driven to madness or manipulation?

Tears clouded his vision as he looked down at his trembling hands, overwhelmed by the weight of his past choices. Why had he gone to such extremes? For power? Recognition? When all he truly desired was acceptance? He loved Mingjue and Xichen deeply, just as they had shown their love for him time and time again. The realization was both heart-wrenching and cathartic.

"How did I...?" Yao's voice trembled as he tried to comprehend his actions.

"Qi deviation. You used the guqin on him," Huaisang explained, taking a cautious step toward Yao. But Yao found himself unable to muster any energy or will to react. He felt drained, devoid of strength and thoughts.

"It's what I used on Jin Guangshan," Huaisang added, his tone neither harsh nor accusatory. "I burned the book afterward, just to be sure. Nobody deserves that much power over someone else."

Yao's body moved of its own accord, his hands reaching out to pull Huaisang into a tight embrace. He rocked their bodies gently, tears flowing freely as he apologized repeatedly. Little hands stroked his head in a soothing gesture, and he cried even harder.

"It's okay, San-Ge," Huaisang whispered, a name that seemed to resonate with both his past and present self. Yao wondered if he had called him that even after killing Mingjue, if he had treated Huaisang poorly in the aftermath, and if anyone had truly cared for their younger brother following the tragedy. "You didn't do anything wrong. Not you."

Yao's voice quivered as he asked, "How can you let me touch you?" The guilt within him was overwhelming.

"Because you didn't do anything," Huaisang reassured him softly, as if sharing a secret between the two of them. "Many things happened that led you down that path. I resolved the main issue, but I need you to stay strong too. I won't be here for much longer."

"Is that why you're telling me all of this?" Yao gently pushed Huaisang away, but the younger remained seated in his lap. "Where are you going?" Yao wiped away his tears, though fresh ones continued to fall.

"Nowhere physically. I don't think your Huaisang died or disappeared when I arrived here. It's like my adult mind has taken over this body. It's becoming harder to stay focused, to hold onto my adult thoughts," Huaisang explained.

"Your age is catching up to you," Yao deduced. Determination filled his voice. "Tell me what I need to do. I'll make everything right again. I promise." He brushed aside Huaisang's protests. Even if this timeline's Meng Yao hadn't taken any of these actions, Nie Huaisang had witnessed the aftermath, seen the pain Meng Yao had caused. He was determined to protect his younger brother from the suffering he already had to endure once.

__________

Nie Yao and Nie Mingjue observe him with matching smiles. Nie Huaisang is resplendent in his red robes, twirling gracefully under the sun within his inner gardens. The melodious chirping of birds seems to accompany his every move, as if they're celebrating the significant day that lies ahead.

"Looking quite lovely, A-Sang," Nie Yao comments, his gaze warm with pride. He notices the undercurrent of excitement coursing through his younger brother, who is clearly trying to contain his enthusiasm.

"Where's your groom, though? Scared him away, did you?" he teases playfully.

"San-Ge!" Huaisang protests with a feigned exasperation.

"I mean..." Lan Ying's voice trails from the sidelines, propping himself on Lan Zhan with a grin. "A-Sang, you've been quite intimidating lately. Maybe ChengCheng got spooked and ran back to Lotus Pier." He earns a reproachful look from Lan Zhan, who nudges him to keep quiet. Teasing Huaisang too much on his wedding day wouldn't be wise.

"You're all teasing me mercilessly today. Maybe I should just relocate to Lotus Pier and never return!" Huaisang huffs.

"Wouldn't bother me," a serene Madam Yu remarks, a slight smile playing on her lips. Her husband, Jiang Fengmian, nods in agreement from behind the fold of his robe. "Although it might spark a war between the Jiang and Nie."

"Oh, no worries, ma'am," Mingjue retorts, his tone dripping with playfulness. "If that happened, I'd just very respectfully kidnap my brother from you and never look back. Might as well take Jiang Cheng along in the process; his martial skills could be useful."

"You're all absolutely dreadful–"

Yao can't help but chuckle at the scene, fully aware that the teasing is all in good spirits.

His mind drifts back to that moment and recalls the conversations he had with Huaisang. He remembers the hushed, secretive discussions where Huaisang unveiled his long-term plans. Yao reflects on the marriage arrangement between Huaisang and Jiang Cheng, strategically devised to have Huaisang study both in Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier. Despite the younger's initial protests and complaints about the weather and studies, Yao had stuck to the original plan and sent him to Lotus Pier. Over time, those letters of grievances transformed into descriptions of Jiang Cheng's appeal and his amazing sword skills. Eventually, Madam Yu approached Nie Mingjue about the potential marriage between the two, while Huaisang was still residing in Lotus Pier.

With the wedding on the horizon, Yao's focus shifts towards the impending confrontation with Wen Ruohan and his two trouble-making sons. The Huaisang from the future has already devised a plan, and Yao's role now is to create a compelling reason for the various sects to unite against Wen Ruohan. Specifically, Yao needs to maneuver an unsuspecting Huaisang into a dangerous position, essentially pushing him into the metaphorical wolf's den.

The key element is Xue Yang, whose task involves perfecting a potent poison. This particular poison leads to qi deviation if any attempt at treatment is made. Xue Yang's collaboration with the best Wen medic gives him comprehensive knowledge of the palace's medical ward. If all goes according to plan, Huaisang will end up in a situation where he's roughed up, and the evidence will implicate Wen Ruohan, leading to retaliation from various sects.

Yao's main concern is that he'd rather keep Huaisang away from Wen Ruohan, but as the future Huaisang had indicated, only the younger Huaisang's involvement will motivate the other sects to take action. Yao is recognized as a Sect Wife by both the Nie and Lan sects, but his background as the son of a prostitute hampers his approval by other sect leaders. On the other hand, Huaisang's status as a 19-year-old with associations to the Nie, Lan, and Jiang sects provides him with significant influence and authority.

While Yao's involvement might go unnoticed, if something were to happen to Huaisang, the world would be shaken. Hence, Yao sees the value in using Huaisang's position to provoke a response. Additionally, the future Huaisang's advice about Huaisang learning to use war fans becomes crucial. These skills will help Huaisang defend himself when the opportunity arises, such as when they visit Wen Ruohan's Nightless City after the wedding.

Yao strategically postpones the wedding until news of Ruohan's sickness spreads to the Unclean Realm. This timing aligns with an invitation from the Wen sect, issued during a period when Jiang Cheng cannot accompany Huaisang due to sect duties. Of course, guards will be present with Huaisang as witnesses.

As Yao contemplates the complex plan, Huaisang interrupts his thoughts, asking for a hug. Yao gladly obliges, wrapping his arms around his younger brother. For now, amidst the intricate strategy, Yao wants to savor the moments of happiness and anticipation as the couple prepares for their impending wedding.

I still find myself wondering if his adult mind truly vanished when he turned 7. However, another part of me believes that it's not important. Regardless, Huaisang is still Huaisang, and I've made a commitment to protect and support him regardless of the circumstances. Once Ruohan's threat is permanently eliminated, I can afford to be more gentle with him. But until then, I'll remain a dependable Gege and continue with our plans.

Chapter Text

I love all of you so so much! I didn’t expect the support and yet here I am! I will do my best to get to every single comment!

I also wanted to make a quick announcement and to casually advertise myself!

A certain someone has been (unintentionally) giving me ideas through their comment. As a result I would like to work on more ‘time travel fix it’ AUs focused on different characters, but also on ‘what if’ stories where I actually slap (perhaps literally) some sense into some characters! So if you would like to see a particular pairing/character being the main focus in such a story, feel free to let me know!

It doesn’t have to be here though! I will list below some social media you can find me on, either just for fun or to request more. I try to upload at least once a day on each of them, or every other day. Sometimes it’s art, sometimes it’s new stories! It all depends on which social media you check out!

My Reddit includes nsfw art by me and I sometimes post about the merch I get (both MDZS and TGCF)

My tumblr includes sfw art and I am now getting into the habit of actually sharing stories on it as well

My Twitter includes nsfw art and I’m thinking of writing thread fics once I figure out how to not write 3k words per chapter lol

My TikTok has MDZS edits mainly but I post about my art as well sometimes. Other times I just post gay stuff in general!

My discord is also open to all those who need a person to talk to or who simply wanna come say hi : ShushBaby#6939

Don’t feel pressured to check any of those out! I listed them for those perhaps too shy to come forward in the comments and for those who might be curious about what I post, but what I said about my discord still stands for all of the social media. If you need someone to talk to, I would love to have you in my DMs ☺️

Anyway! Thank you again for all of the support! Do look forward to more works from me 🙏

Stay safe and sane out there 💚