Chapter Text
"Wei Ying!"
Wei Wuxian shot up from where he had fallen and immediately knew something was wrong. He had been standing next to the Guanyin statue. He had been standing next to the statue but looking towards Wangji. Lan Wangji was looking at him, too, a mask of helpless horror etched onto his face. Lan Zhan should never make such an expression, he'd thought. Then, the temple had collapsed on top of them.
Wei Wuxian knows he should be feeling pain or wood and stone pressing in from above or even the beat of the rain from the storm that had been raging that night. Instead, he realizes he's in a spacious area, much more spacious than the temple ever was given the echoes of his heavy breathing bouncing against distant walls. The air is cold and damp, but dim light filters in from somewhere. Despite the temple being nowhere near running water, he can hear a faint trickle not too far from him. Maybe if Wei Wuxian hadn't died before, he would think that he was standing on the banks of the Yellow Springs.
"Wei-gongzi?"
Instinctively, Wei Wuxian reaches for Chenqing only to realize that he recognizes this voice. "...Wen Ning???"
Wei Wuxian squints in the gloom and, sure enough, that's Wen Ning, standing at his side and missing the giant hole that Wei Wuxian had last seen punched through his torso.
"Wei-gongzi," Wen Ning asks with just as much confusion as Wei Wuxian feels, "what's going on? Why are we b-back here?"
Wei Wuxian gives a stiff laugh. "So it's not just me."
Had they not been here just the night before, perhaps it would have been harder to recognize. But the voluminous cavern, the burbling pool, the faint smell of blood persistently clinging to the air? Where else could this be but the Demon-Slaughtering Cave in the Burial Mounds? And not just the Demon-Slaughtering Cave as they had seen it some hours ago—full of ripped-apart corpses and traces of a long-passed fire clinging onto the walls—but the one that had been filled with messily scrawled notes, half-finished prototypes, and the occasional worn, handmade child's toy. Wei Wuxian picks up one of these toys and notes that other than a few loose threads and teeth marks, it's in relatively new condition.
"How is this possible," he murmurs half to himself, half to Wen Ning. Except, Wen Ning has gone still in the way only corpses can, head swiveled to the entrance of the cave where a shadow has blocked out a good portion of scant light and low cursing has overtaken the sound of Wei Wuxian's own breathing.
"Wei Wuxian! A-Ning!" The shadow descends into the cave with brisk steps. "I told you to go down the mountain, today. If I find out you've forgotten, again...!" No longer directly backlit by the entrance, the light falls in such a way that the face of the person crystalizes into perfect clarity. Wen Ning sucks in a harsh breath. The doll drops to the ground.
Wen Qing had more curses prepared for them, but when she finally catches sight of their faces, she's shocked silent by the sight of the black veins around Wen Ning's eyes popping out so starkly that they extend almost down to his neck. As for Wei Wuxian—
"Aiya," Wen Qing startles back a step, then rushes forward. "Why are you crying?"