Chapter Text
~ ~ ~
The first time Nie Huaisang met Jiang Cheng, they had been ten years old at a cultivation conference where they had both been brought along as sect heirs. He remembered seeing the boy in purple across the hall and thinking that he looked familiar, even though they had never met before, and that it would be nice to have him as a friend. But there had been little time for young boys to socialize, and he had returned to Qinghe having barely spoken a word to the other boy.
They had other meetings over the years in their capacities as sect heirs, but it wasn’t until they came to study together at Cloud Recesses that they came to know one another. Nie Huaisang was happy to have Jiang Cheng as a new friend, along with Wei Wuxian, and yet he never quite got over the niggling sense in the back of his mind that there was something familiar about Jiang Cheng.
~ ~ ~
“Because of our methods of cultivation and our golden cores,” Lan Qiren lectured, “the bonds formed between cultivators are stronger and longer-lasting than among mundane people. This is why it is very important to choose carefully who you are bonded to, whether it be by marriage or sworn brotherhood. Your connections will not just last through this lifetime, but will follow you into the next.” He paused and turned a skeptical eye upon his students, half of which seemed to be nearly falling asleep at their tables. “This is why the Lan sect does not practice arranged marriages like many other sects do. We believe that to force such a bond between two cultivators is improper for all involved.”
There were many winces and unhappy faces, which was to be expected. Most sects’ leaderships were comprised of marriages that had been arranged, with very few being love matches.
“I know other sects do not see things the same way as we do, and we respect their beliefs even as we disagree with them. In the end, that is the most important lesson I wish for all of you to take from these classes – that despite our differences, we as cultivators all have the same goals, and with mutual respect, we can do our duties to our utmost abilities.”
That night, Nie Huaisang went to bed with Lan Qiren’s lecture ringing in his ears – a rare occasion of him actually paying attention to what his teacher said in class. He woke in the middle of the night feeling ill at ease from a strange dream he’d had. Unable to fall back asleep, he tried to distract himself with spring books and painting, but nothing could make him feel at ease in his skin. When the bell rang to wake the Lan disciples in the morning, he quickly dressed and left for Lan Xichen’s Hanshi, needing someone friendly and familiar to speak with.
Lan Xichen had been shocked to see Nie Huaisang up at such an hour, but the look on his face must have told Lan Xichen how much he needed to speak with someone, and he was invited inside for morning tea.
“Did something happen overnight?” Lan Xichen asked as he handed a cup to Nie Huaisang.
His fingers tightened upon the porcelain and he relished the heat from the tea. “Just... dreams,” he admitted. Lan Xichen had always been so kind to him, and he was the next best thing to having his brother there. “Not nightmares, just... unsettling.”
Lan Xichen nodded and held his own cup between his hands, the steam wafting up toward his nose. “In what way? You know whatever you say here will remain between us.”
He nodded. “Thank you, Xichen-ge. It was just... strange. I couldn’t see or hear anything, it was like I was in the dark, and all I could feel was this intense sense of loneliness. And then there was this small feeling of warmth. First it just reached out to me, slowly, and then I reached back. And then it enveloped me, but I didn’t feel threatened at all – instead, I felt friendship, affection. I wasn’t lonely anymore.”
“It sounds a lot like a certain person I know,” Lan Xichen replied with a smile. “I remember your last year here, how alone you were. It’s been quite a relief to see you making friends this year.”
Nie Huaisang frowned. “So, you think it’s just reflecting how I’ve felt in the years I’ve studied at Cloud Recesses?” Lan Xichen nodded. “I don’t know, it just... it feels more like a memory than a dream. I just... don’t have the words to explain it.”
“If you do find the words,” Lan Xichen encouraged, “you are welcome to come to me, even in the middle of the night if you need me.”
“Thank you, Xichen-ge.”
~ ~ ~
As the weeks passed, the students settled into various routines. For Nie Huaisang, his wavered between eating and playing around with his friends, going to classes, writing letters home to his brother and Meng Yao, and when Wei Wuxian was ordered to attend detention, spending quiet time with Jiang Cheng. Sometimes his friend would want to practice his sword forms, and Nie Huaisang would follow and watch him from the side, both for the artistry of Yunmeng Jiang’s style as well as the sheer attractiveness of his friend; at other times, they would settle comfortably in the same room, Jiang Cheng studying and Nie Huaisang painting fans or writing poetry.
It was nice to have friends, and he never really questioned why he gravitated so much toward Jiang Cheng. He merely assumed it was because his friend reminded him of his brother.
One night, after he and his friends had indulged in several bottles of Emperor’s Smile, Nie Huaisang had looked away from Wei Wuxian’s snoring and over to Jiang Cheng, and had been overcome with a strange feeling. He felt as if he were looking at Jiang Cheng through a lens of some sort, or his reflection in a mirror; as if his friend was forever distant from him, and no matter how much he would reach out for him, he was untouchable. He’d instinctively stretched out a hand, and had been startled when his fingers made contact with the fabric of Jiang Cheng’s sleeve, warm with the heat of his body.
“What is it?” Jiang Cheng had mumbled, half asleep. His eyelids had flickered open, and their eyes had met, and Nie Huaisang again had that sensation of loneliness being soothed away.
“Nothing,” he replied. “Go back to sleep, Jiang-xiong.”
And his friend had slept, trusting Nie Huaisang enough to do so in his presence.
Nie Huaisang had stayed up that night, watching his friend with a protectiveness that a cultivator of his lowly skills should not feel toward someone of Jiang Cheng’s abilities.
~ ~ ~
Nie Huaisang shivered in the cool night air, his hands gripping tightly around his folding fan.
Lan Qiren had suggested the brilliant idea of a night hunt attended by the four heirs of the non-Wen great sects – a ‘bonding experience’ for the future leaders of the Jianghu, he’d said. Lan Wangji, Jin Zixuan, and Jiang Cheng had simply nodded and prepared their swords – Nie Huaisang, however, had tried to talk his way out of it, to no avail. And thus he stood behind the other boys, praying that whatever creatures were in the forest would not come at him.
They had met a handful of small yao, all easily taken care of by the three sword-wielding disciples, and they had been considering returning to Cloud Recesses when they were stopped by the sound of sobbing nearby. Nie Huaisang turned to see a ghostly shape hunched over, shoulders shaking and long hair trailing along the ground without disturbing a single leaf. It was a woman, and she didn’t appear dangerous, but appearances could be deceiving.
He looked up to the other boys, and all three of them looked at him as if to say that he could handle this one – not even Jiang Cheng proved susceptible to Nie Huaisang’s pleading gaze.
“Ah, hello?” he began, approaching the spirit.
The woman’s head lifted and her eyes met Nie Huaisang’s, and something inside him froze. He saw in her a loneliness and a feeling of loss that echoed within him in a way he couldn’t describe. He didn’t even think, simply moved closer and knelt on the ground at her side.
“They wouldn’t help me,” she whispered to him. “My younger sister was so much more beautiful, and my death was a relief to them.”
“To your family?”
“Yes. She could not marry before me, and I refused to be sold as a concubine.”
“And how did you die?”
“I was sick, it was a bad winter...”
“So, it was natural? You don’t seek revenge?”
She gave a sad shake of her head. “It was after I died that they abandoned me.” She reached out for his hand, but her ghostly fingers passed through him, leaving a chill upon his skin. “I was unmarried, they knew I would be alone. There was a kind boy, poor but honourable, who wished to take me as his wife so my spirit would not be alone, but my family refused – they would not allow a boy of his station to have any tie to our family. They cared more about their than about me...”
“But why do you stay? Don’t you want to be reborn?”
“How could I live again when there is nobody to return with? If none could love me in my first life, who could love me in my next?” Her ghostly fingers moved to touch his forehead, stopping but a hair’s breadth away from his skin. “Not all of us were as fortunate as you.”
A shiver trailed up and down his spine. “What do you mean?”
Her smile was knowing but sad. “You don’t remember, but I can feel it on you. You were as I am, but your family cared more than mine did. Yours gave you a wife, refused to let you be lonely in death. Not all of us are so lucky.”
He took in a shaky breath, and when he exhaled, the air filled with gentle steam from his lips. He heard a throat clearing behind him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone, that there were others waiting for him to help this ghost in whatever way he could – and there to help should she turn on him. He glanced back over his shoulder and instinctively looked to Jiang Cheng, who gave him an encouraging nod.
“You’re right, I don’t remember,” he told the ghost – he didn’t know if there was any truth to what she had said, but that didn’t matter, would not until she had been dealt with. “But I know that as long as we live again, there is always hope. Even if your family didn’t care for you, even if there isn’t anyone waiting for you... that doesn’t mean you can’t move on, that you might even be happier without connections to your old life. Would you really want to be met by people who don’t care for you, or worse, be bonded to someone you can’t stand?”
She tilted her head. “You are very kind. Do you... do you think anyone will ever love me?”
He tried to offer her a sympathetic smile. “I’m a useless younger brother among strong cultivators – if they can care for me, there’s hope for anybody.”
She nodded, then closed her eyes. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” he whispered. “Most of us are. We don’t know what’s waiting for us. But is this where you really want to be for the rest of your existence?”
She opened her eyes again and slid a finger along his forehead, and this time he could almost feel the touch against his skin. “If I return, can I come back and find you? Will you be my friend?”
“I don’t know how much control you have over that,” he admitted reluctantly, “but... yes, if you find me, I would like to have another friend.”
And with one final smile – still sad but tinged with hope – the ghost disappeared.
Nie Huaisang sat, shaken to the core, and was unaware of anything else around him until he felt a touch at his shoulder, making him jump. He looked up at Jiang Cheng, whose lips were tight with concern, and he tried to offer his friend a smile.
“Did I do okay?” he asked, if only for something to say.
“The ghost has moved on,” Lan Wangji announced. “Her spirit is at peace.”
“You did good,” Jiang Cheng said as he helped pull Nie Huaisang up onto his feet. “It’s nice to see a ghost leave on their own for once – it’s always sad when we have to chase them off or force them to move on against their will.”
Nie Huaisang glanced over at Jin Zixuan, who looked awkward as ever, particularly when Lan Wangji gave him a look. “Whatever you told her was... effective,” he finally added.
“Yeah, what did you tell her?” Jiang Cheng asked.
It was a relief to know they hadn’t overheard the conversation – there was much that had been said that Nie Huaisang would think on from this night forward, and he was thankful that he wouldn’t also have to deal with strange looks from the other disciples. “We just talked,” he shrugged. “And she said she was lonely. She needed a friend, so I tried to be one – and I gave her permission to find me if she moved on.”
Lan Wangji’s lips twisted and his eyes narrowed. “Foolish and sentimental.” And then he turned away to lead the group back to Cloud Recesses, Jin Zixuan falling immediately into step next to him.
Nie Huaisang deflated a little and moved to follow, but a tug at his sleeve drew his attention. “Don’t listen to him,” Jiang Cheng scoffed. “You did the right thing.”
“Thank you, Jiang-xiong.”
The whole way back to the mountain, he was reassured by the presence of his friend at his side, one he was growing more and more attached to by the day.
~ ~ ~
Nie Huaisang startled awake upon feeling something hitting his head. He blearily looked up from the book that had been his temporary pillow, then looked around the library. He frowned, spotting the balled-up piece of paper that had been thrown at him.
“What was that for, Wei-xiong?”
His friend grinned. “If we have to stay awake, so do you.”
“But this is all so boring.”
They’d been caught skipping out on a training session, and Lan Qiren had given them an assignment as punishment that was due the next day. How in the heavens were they supposed to research something and write about it in such little time?
“Surprisingly, it isn’t,” Wei Wuxian replied. “There are so many small sects that existed at one point or another, and the Lan library has information on so many of them. Really, all you need to do is pick one and do up a quick summary of how it was created, what it was about, and how it disappeared.” He grinned, looking down at a book he’d been holding open. “Apparently the Wang sect were into some really weird rituals, many of which required their disciples to be naked.”
“Oh?” Nie Huaisang perked up and tried to peek over at his friend’s book.
Wei Wuxian snapped the book closed and waggled a finger at him. “Don’t even think about it – this one is mine.”
Nie Huaisang pouted and lowered his head back to the book on the table. He was just about to lay his head down properly for another nap when he felt a poke in his side. He looked down to see a book being pushed into his waist. He reached down to take the book from Jiang Cheng, grimacing at the age of the paper.
“What’s this?”
“An account of the Zhou sect,” Jiang Cheng replied softly, as if he didn’t want Wei Wuxian to overhear. “I started reading it and... I think you’ll find it interesting.”
He nodded his thanks and reluctantly brought the book up onto his table, cracking it open to the first page.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the paper until long after he’d finished reading the last words.
The Zhou sect had been started by an Imperial scholar and his wife, both of whom had been intelligent and had an aptitude for the arts. They had developed a style of martial arts that focused more on movement – not fighting, but something akin to dancing. They’d had two sons that they had trained alongside their disciples, and the eldest had been raised b from birth to take over the sect from his parents one day. But the elder son had died on a hunting expedition when he was fifteen. The younger brother began undergoing immediate training to take on the heir’s responsibilities, including being betrothed to the daughter of a neighbouring sect.
But after the betrothal was announced, strange happenings spread across the sect grounds. Objects would move on their own, and tearful wailing would be heard in the middle of the night. Experts from the Lan sect were brought in to investigate, and all signs pointed to the spirit of the elder brother, lonely in death and crying out because his younger brother would marry before him. It was a rare situation, but not completely unheard of, and the family went about seeking a woman to marry to their dead son. Yet for many weeks, none would volunteer, and no matter how many the parents tried to lure with promises of prestige and money, no woman wanted to sacrifice her future happiness to be a dead man’s wife.
Then a passing rogue cultivator came to visit, an unmarried woman heavily with child. She claimed to have heard of the situation and wished to volunteer to marry the elder son. The parents were ecstatic, not only because their son would be at peace and their younger son could marry, but because the woman would bring them a grandchild to pass on family traditions. The ghost marriage was quickly performed, and the woman was brought into the family with much joy.
But the younger brother had no aptitude at governing a sect, and as he grew older, would spend his time whoring and drinking even past his marriage to his betrothed. The parents passed on, and the sect leadership fell to the younger brother, whose decisions brought hardship upon the sect and its disciples. By this time, the rogue cultivator had her child, a daughter that she brought up in the ways of the sect, and she grew more and more dissatisfied by the new sect leader’s decisions. She eventually gathered support from the more senior disciples and rose up to challenge him, stating it was her right as his elder brother’s wife. He protested and tried to fight her, but her skills and support were greater than his. He dared her to punish him with an honourable death, but she chose life instead, saying his brother would not be happy if she were to cause the younger brother’s death.
The rogue cultivator proved to be a loyal, just, and competent leader. When she grew older, she passed the leadership on to her daughter, who passed it on to her daughter as well. The Zhou sect lasted a handful of generations, all but the first led by the eldest daughter of the family line. There had been many challengers, but none had succeeded – it was believed the main family line was blessed and protected by the spirit of the first heir, who stepped in to protect his family even in death.
The story made Nie Huaisang think of the ghost he had met, who had been so lonely because her family had not conducted a ghost marriage for her. But as he read the tale, he began feeling choked up, as if something in the words had captured his breath and refused to let it go until he had finished.
He didn’t know whether to be thankful or upset that Jiang Cheng had found something so apt for him – this would be an assignment he could not half-ass like he normally would.
~ ~ ~
Two days later, Lan Qiren asked Nie Huaisang to remain after the rest of the students left class. Nie Huaisang went to kneel nervously by Lan Qiren’s table to the side of the classroom, but where his teacher would usually look on him with disappointment, this day he looked upon him with surprise.
Lan Qiren placed the assignment in front of Nie Huaisang, then sat opposite him.
“This is the highest mark I have ever given you in any class in the two years of our acquaintance,” Lan Qiren announced. “At first I thought you had cheated somehow, but not only is the handwriting unquestionably yours, but the use of language is very unique. It speaks to someone more accustomed to poetry than essays, a style that no other student I have met has shown.”
Nie Huaisang’s shoulders dropped as he realized he was not in trouble – at least not yet. “So you... wanted to congratulate me, Lan Laoshi?”
Lan Qiren’s lips formed a straight line. “I wanted to find out what inspired this work from you, because I will expect to see it again.”
Ugh, this is worse than failing the assignment.
Nie Huaisang looked down to his hands, folded in his lap, but Lan Qiren’s patient eyes never left him. Eventually, he sighed – he needed to tell him something, if only so he could leave and have dinner with his friends. He just didn’t know if it was anything Lan Qiren would want to hear.
“When I read the account of the Zhou sect,” he began tentatively, “it felt... familiar. But I know I’ve never read of it before.” He shrugged helplessly.
Lan Qiren gave a decisive nod. “As if you had lived it before.”
His eyes widened – he had thought it, but he hadn’t dared say it aloud.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Lan Qiren scolded. “We all hope for our loved ones to be reborn one day – it isn’t unusual to realize that some have been already and may be walking among us. The question, I believe, is who were you then? How much of the story of the Zhou sect feels familiar?”
He shrugged. “All of it.” He almost stopped there, wasn’t certain how much he could trust Lan Qiren with what he knew, but... he wanted answers, if only for his own peace of mind. “A few weeks ago, I met a ghost on a night hunt.”
“Yes, I read the report,” Lan Qiren nodded.
“But... there was something I left out.” His teacher looked on expectantly. “The ghost was lonely because her family had refused to conduct a ghost marriage even when there had been a volunteer. But... she’d looked at me and told me that I had been more fortunate, that my family had once given me a wife in death.”
“So... you believe you might have been the elder son to whom the rogue cultivator married.”
“I don’t know, but... it fits.”
Lan Qiren let out a puff of air. “Were you almost anyone else, I would accuse you of making things up in order to appear more important than you are. But though you may be a poor student, you are certainly not self-important in that way.” He tapped at his table in thought. “The records are old and incomplete. Had we more accounts of the boy’s likes, dislikes, and personality, we could conduct a test – but unfortunately, we have little left from that time.”
He nodded, not having expected otherwise. “Is there anything I could do about the dreams? They wake me sometimes, visions of being in the dark, but there’s a light and a warmth that reminds me I’m not alone.”
Lan Qiren offered him a rare tentative smile. “That would be your marital bond. You would have been a spirit when the ghost marriage was conducted, after all. The bond established would have reached you and given you the strength and support to eventually move on. And here you are now.”
It was strange to be receiving such support from Lan Qiren of all people – he honestly had expected criticism or skepticism from the older man. “Do you think... will I ever know the truth? And what about the person I’m bonded to, will I ever meet them, find out who they are? If they’re even reborn.”
“I cannot say,” Lan Qiren replied. “Some know from the moment they meet, others go their entire lives without ever knowing the extent of their connection. But I do believe the stronger connections do show themselves in some way from life to life.”
He nodded. Lan Qiren pushed the graded assignment across the table to him, and he accepted it. “Thank you, Lan Laoshi.”
“If you have any other questions or issues on this – or any other – matter, I am always here.” Then Lan Qiren gave him a pointed look. “And may your next assignment match the quality of this one.”
~ ~ ~
Other than dreams and a new appreciation for the defunct Zhou sect, Nie Huaisang’s summer in Cloud Recesses was mostly uneventful. He had a heavy heart upon leaving, knowing he would miss his friends from Yunmeng as well as Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren’s guidance. He said his goodbyes to all with as good humour as he could manage, and promised Jiang Cheng that they would write and keep in touch. After all, it was always a good thing for two sect heirs to develop a close bond of friendship.
~ ~ ~
Nie Huaisang lay on a cot in a holding cell, wondering when he would ever see daylight again. He watched the Wen guard walking back and forth, looking bored as he did his duty watching over their remaining prisoner. He had tried his best to keep track of the days, even though he could see no daylight from this room, and he thought it must have been at least a week since Wen Chao had returned, claiming that all of Nie Huaisang’s friends were dead from fighting a monster of some sort.
All he could do was lie in wait for his brother to find a way to get him out – either that, or the Wen to decide how they would use him to get at Qinghe Nie.
He felt a strange pulling at his heart and he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to follow it. He began to feel worried, though he didn’t know why the feeling came over him, and his mind wandered until it reached a place that was dark and cold. He sensed one spot of brightness and moved toward it, instinctively knowing this was something special that he needed to keep safe. When he came to the bright spot, he reached out to touch it.
Dying...
He felt a wave of protectiveness and tried to envelop the glow, as if it were a pillow he could wrap his arms around. The presence within didn’t protest, and he could practically feel it sob.
Don’t want to die alone. Stay?
He held the brightness close and promised that he wouldn’t leave.
All gone, all but... Have to keep them safe, but don’t want to die...
The presence was feeling weaker and weaker, and Nie Huaisang didn’t know what he could do for it. He thought questions at it, asking who it was and where they were, begging it to let him help them.
Doesn’t matter. They’re all dead. Will be too... No... No, not that! Don’t crush-
The brightness extinguished, and Nie Huaisang was pulled back and away from the darkness against his will, his mind begging to be allowed to stay and find out what had happened to the bright presence. But the next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to the dank walls of his Qishan holding cell.
He took in a shaky breath and wiped a tear from his cheek. It must have been the one he was bonded to. Whoever they were, they were hurting and possibly dying, and there was nothing he could do to help them. He only hoped that he could have been some comfort to them when they needed it most.