Chapter Text
The air was still in the early morning hours, the soft hum of insects and the faint rustling of leaves the only sounds breaking the silence. Wei Wuxian sat on the edge of his bed, the pearl necklace around his throat a steady, reassuring weight. His fingers traced its surface absentmindedly as he stared at the sparse belongings he had in his small childhood room. Belongings he never thought he’d see again .
Everything about this suggested the surreal quality of a dream, yet it was undeniably real.
Even with that, the most glaring detail would be his necklace. He never wore something as fine as this pearl in the eternity of his two lives. The red and blue swirls were too unique to have hallucinated it.
Aswell, the pearl’s warmth lessened slightly, a pale shiver of light emanating from it. It scared him at first, feeling the warmth zap from it. It had reminded him, yet again, that he was on borrowed time. If he stayed here any longer, the frailer balance of the future he wanted would shatter. Slipping from his hands like quick sand.
Truly, the Great Mother was right. Even if he were to stay here, he thinks he couldn’t take another life spent paying the price of another. His love for his siblings is genuine, but he couldn’t overlook the cruelty that they could do, now.
He stretched, his back aching as the familiar twinges of pain radiated along his spine. Yu Ziyuan’s punishments with Zidian had left their intended mark–not just on his body but on his spirit. He winced, rolling his shoulders and rotating his neck. His body was younger now, more resilient, more so than Mo Xuanyu’s ever was. Alas, time spent in his body had softened him in ways he couldn’t have before.
The ghost of pain lingers even after stretching, refusing to let him forget the woman’s cruelty. As if he could ever forget, he thought bitterly to himself. He thinks it might be Ying-niangniang , even beyond the veil, who is amplifying the pain. But who is he kidding? He knows it is the kiss of Zidian that lingers, remembers its lightning hisses like the back of his hand.
Wei Wuxian groaned softly. “Yu-furen , even now, you just won’t let me rest, huh?”
For a fleeting moment, his thoughts shifted, unbidden, to his husband. A deep ache settled in his chest. He missed him—the calm, unyielding presence of Lan Wangji, the way his touch could steady him even in the stormiest of times. He longed to feel those arms around him, to hear the quiet assurance in his husband’s voice. It's been mere hours, yet it feels like an eternity has passed.
He can’t wait to be enveloped in his strong arms, hidden away from the world and cradled safely in his little nook.
The pearl warmed up, seeming to agree with Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian smiled softly, nuzzling the pearl. “Ah, my little A-Yuan. A-Die will be back soon, so don’t you worry, hmm?”
Resolving himself, Wei Wuxian pushed to his feet. The pearl’s light dimmed further, as if urging him to hurry. He reached for his belongings, pulling out his qiankun bag. One by one, he packed the essentials: notes he’d scribbled during his studies, scrolls containing techniques he couldn’t bear to leave behind, and keepsakes from his parents—a delicate ribbon that had belonged to his mother and a jade token engraved with his father’s name. These were treasures he hadn’t dared to take the first time, but now he wouldn’t leave them behind.
With each item tucked safely into his bag, the weight of his departure grew heavier.
"This is the last time I'll ever see this room," he whispered, the finality settling like a stone in his chest. "It's time."
Wei Wuxian stepped outside, the predawn sky casting the Jiang Clan in soft hues of gray and blue. He walked slowly, his steps deliberate as he took in every detail of the place that had been his home. The familiar stone pathways, the gardens meticulously tended by disciples, the training grounds where he had sparred with Jiang Cheng countless times—it all felt bittersweet.
It felt like home, but where is home if not with his husband and son? Where his ideas are not brushed off?
This home, once familiar, now feels more like a gilded cage, a prison wrapped in the illusion of comfort. The warmth it once offered has grown cold, its walls pressing in like bars, suffocating in their grandeur.
He wonders, whether he’s seen as a rare specimen, admired but misunderstood, or just another crow scratching hopelessly at the edges. He reckons he knows of which Yu- furen would gladly claim him to be. Either way, it no longer matters. The life he longs for—the safety, the freedom—lies somewhere beyond these towering walls. Each glimpse of the outside world feels like a distant promise, just out of reach but never out of sight, teasing him with what could be.
Perhaps one day, he’ll find the strength to return—to laugh again with his shidis and shimeis , to piece together the fragments of what was lost. But for now, all he tastes is ash, and all he sees is blood staining the rivers of his past.
His gaze fell on the small pond where he had once fallen in while chasing pheasants as a boy. The memory would have brought a smile to his lips, but even such an innocent memory is now tinged in bittersweet.
Even without the conditions he’d agreed to, he thinks he would have left anyway. He’d grown spoiled by affection—stolen kisses and soft touches had become his norm, a quiet luxury he wasn’t willing to trade. Even Lan- xiansheng had mellowed in recent years, his once rigid demeanor softening in ways Wei Wuxian could never have predicted.
They’d started spending one morning a week together over tea, exchanging light debates instead of heavy criticisms. The change was so drastic it left everyone astonished—not just Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, but even Lan-xiansheng himself seemed bewildered by how smoothly things were going.
Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but tease him during their discussions, though he kept it just shy of improper—most of the time, anyway. It was strange, how those mornings had grown into something he looked forward to, even when Lan-xiansheng’s arguments were as stubborn as ever. There was a begrudging warmth now, something fragile but undeniably present, like the first thaw of spring in Gusu’s snowy winters.
Compared to that, not even his shijie’s kind eyes and warm hugs could fill the hollow ache in his chest.
Ah, and doesn’t the thought of his sister weigh heavy on his already weathered heart?
Just the thought of her makes him sob like the ugly crier that he is. He hiccupped softly, burying his face in his hands as the memories overwhelmed him.
Shijie , with her warm smile and soft hands, always knew how to soothe his troubles. She was the one who wiped his tears when he’d scraped his knees chasing after Jiang Cheng, the one who sneaked him sweets when Yu Ziyuan’s temper had burned too hot. She was his haven, his constant, the person who had loved him unconditionally when it felt like no one else could. His only maternal figure.
And she died for him.
“I’m sorry, shijie,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “I’m so sorry.”
The pearl at his throat pulsed faintly, as though reminding him he couldn’t linger too long in his sorrow. He reached up to grasp it, taking a deep, trembling breath. He couldn’t change the past, couldn’t rewrite the mistakes he had made—but he could honor her in the way he chose to live now.
His feet took him to the one place he knew he could find her, the kitchens.
When he reached the kitchens, his heart clenched. There she was—Jiang Yanli, her gentle presence lighting up the room as she prepared breakfast for the disciples. Wei Wuxian froze in the doorway, his throat tightening. He had missed her so much. How many nights had he dreamed of this moment, of seeing her alive and well, unburdened by the grief of his loss?
Tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped inside. Jiang Yanli turned at the sound, her expression softening when she saw him.
“A-Xian,” she said warmly, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’re up early.”
Before he could stop himself, Wei Wuxian rushed forward, wrapping his arms around her. She stiffened in surprise, but her hands soon came up to pat his back soothingly.
“A-Xian, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Wei Wuxian couldn’t answer. He buried his face in her shoulder, trembling as he tried to hold back his sobs. She smelled of lotus flowers and home, and for a moment, he wished he could stay here forever.
But he couldn’t.
“I just missed you, shijie,” he murmured finally, pulling back and forcing a smile. “That’s all.”
She tilted her head, studying him with a frown, but she didn’t press further. “Silly melon. I’m right here.”
He laughed softly, the sound tinged with sadness. “Yeah. You are.”
Wei Wuxian lingered in her embrace, soaking in the warmth he knew he would soon have to leave behind. The kitchen bustled softly around them, the gentle clatter of pots and the faint aroma of lotus root soup stirring a bittersweet ache in his chest. This was where she belonged—among the simple comforts of life, surrounded by love and laughter.
But for him, this place no longer felt the same.
Jiang Yanli stepped back, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders as she gave him a long, searching look. “A-Xian, are you sure you’re alright? You know shijie is always here for you? If you need to talk about something, we can go sit in our pavilion and talk over some soothing tea.”
Wei Wuxian hesitated. How could he explain the storm raging inside him without unraveling everything she held dear? How could he tell her about the guilt, the grief, the unbearable weight of knowing he couldn’t stay?
“I’m fine, shijie ,” he lied, his voice soft but steady. “Just... thinking about things. The past, the future. You know how my mind wanders.”
Her eyes softened, but there was still a shadow of concern in them. “You’ve always carried too much, A-Xian. You don’t have to bear it all alone.”
Her words struck a chord deep within him, but he could only smile. “I know, shijie . Thank you.”
Before she could probe further, he gently steered the conversation away. “What are you making? It smells amazing.”
Her expression brightened, and she turned back to the stove. “Lotus root and pork soup. Jiang Cheng has been training the disciples hard, so I thought they could use something nourishing.”
Wei Wuxian chuckled, the sound more genuine this time. “Ah, shijie , you spoil him too much. He’ll never learn to fend for himself.”
“He’s my little brother,” she replied with a soft laugh. “It’s my duty to take care of him. Just like it’s my duty to take care of you.”
His heart ached at her words, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep the smile on his face. “You’re too good to us, shijie .”
Jiang Yanli glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with gentle affection. “And you’re too hard on yourself, A-Xian.”
He didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, not without his voice betraying the turmoil inside him. Instead, he stepped forward and reached for a knife, quickly slicing vegetables to help her. They worked in comfortable silence, the kind that only existed between two people who understood each other without needing words.
But as the morning light crept into the kitchen, painting everything in a golden glow, Wei Wuxian knew his time was running out. Soon, he would have to leave—not just the kitchen, but the Jiang Clan, the life he had known, and the sister he loved so dearly.
For now, though, he let himself savor this moment. One last memory to carry with him, a fragment of home to keep his heart warm on the long road ahead.
Later, as they walked through the training grounds, he spotted a much younger Jiang Cheng practicing his sword forms. The boy’s movements were sharp, his face set in a determined scowl. Wei Wuxian’s chest tightened. This was Jiang Cheng before the weight of leadership, before their bond had fractured under the strain of war and loss.
Unable to resist, Wei Wuxian approached him. “A-Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng stopped mid-swing, turning to face him. “What do you want, Wei Wuxian?”
Aiyah, even at this age, he was so solemn and serious. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Without warning, he grabbed Jiang Cheng in a tight hug, startling his brother so much that the practice sword slipped from his hand.
“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng squawked, squirming against his hold. “Let go!”
Wei Wuxian just laughed, the sound thick with emotion. “I’m just glad to see you, A-Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng managed to push him off, his face red with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You’re being weird again. Go bother someone else.”
Behind them, Jiang Yanli was holding back a laugh, her sleeves raised to hide the amusement written all over her face.
“Oh, come on,” Wei Wuxian said, dramatically clutching his chest as if Jiang Cheng’s rejection had wounded him. “Is this any way to treat the elder brother who would do anything for you?”
“Anything except listen to me,” Jiang Cheng muttered, crossing his arms.
Wei Wuxian’s grin faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Fine, fine. How about this—one day, I’ll bring you something incredible. Something that’ll make even A-Cheng smile. Consider it my promise, okay?”
Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What kind of promise is that? You’re just trying to distract me.”
“Maybe,” Wei Wuxian admitted with a playful shrug. “But you’ll see. Just wait.”
Jiang Yanli stepped closer, resting a hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “Don’t tease your brother too much, A-Xian,” she said gently, though her smile betrayed her fondness. “And don’t forget, we’re counting on you to help with the next soup batch.”
Wei Wuxian turned to her, his eyes softening at her kindness. “Of course, shijie . I’ll make sure to be there.”
The words were a careful lie, one he hoped they wouldn’t see through. He couldn’t let them know he was leaving, not yet. It would hurt too much—for all of them.
As he turned to go, Jiang Cheng called after him. “You’d better not be lying about that promise, Wei Wuxian!”
The pearl pulsed one last time, and he whispered under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear:
“I love you both. Always.”
—
A new day dawned, and already he could feel the pearl weakening.
He had fed it his qi throughout the night, cradling it in his plans as if sheer willpower alone could sustain it. Yet, the glow had dimmed to an anemic flicker, its warmth fading like the last embers of a dying fire.
The pearl was a lifeline, fragile and unrelenting in its demands. It tied him to his son, his husband, his promises—and it reminded him, with every weakening pulse, that time was running out.
He’d been delaying. Lingering in this place that felt like both a sanctuary and a snare, trying to memorize every detail before he left. The way the morning light danced across the Lotus Pier rooftops. The faint scent of lotus pods drifting on the breeze. Jiang Yanli’s soft voice humming a melody in the kitchens. Jiang Cheng’s sharp orders echoing from the training grounds.
All of it was etched into his heart, and yet it wasn’t enough to keep him here. The pearl was weakening, and with it, so was the delicate balance of the fragile threads tying his borrowed life together.
Wei Wuxian clenched his fist around it, the edges biting into his palm. “Not yet,” he murmured, as if the pearl could hear him. “Just a little longer.”
He couldn’t leave just yet. There were still things he needed to do, people he needed to see, memories he needed to hold onto before he could let this place go.
Wei Wuxian stepped outside, the morning air cool against his skin. The faint hum of Lotus Pier waking up surrounded him: disciples bustling about, the low murmur of conversations, and the rhythmic swish of water as a fishing boat drifted across the lake. For a moment, he let himself stand there, soaking it all in—the sights, the sounds, the faint scent of lotus blossoms on the breeze.
He had spent his childhood here, running barefoot along the docks, laughing with Jiang Cheng, stealing lotus seeds with his shijie . This was supposed to be his home. So why did it feel so much like a place he no longer belonged? Never belonged, infact?
The pearl pulsed faintly again, almost as if scolding him for lingering.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered under his breath, tucking it back beneath his robes. He couldn’t afford to waste time.
Not after everything he’s sacrificed to get to this point. And especially not when his son and husband are at stake.
When Wei Wuxian knelt before Jiang Fengmian’s office, the morning sun had already reached its peak. He pressed his forehead to the ground, his voice steady as he called out.
“Jiang-zongzhu , please allow me to leave the clan.”
There was no immediate response. Wei Wuxian didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He knew what this meant—what it would take to convince the Jiang patriarch to let him go.
Hours passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky. Disciples stopped to watch, whispering among themselves, but Wei Wuxian remained resolute.
Jiang Yanli came first, her voice trembling with worry. “A-Xian, what are you doing?”
“Shijie,” he said softly, lifting his head just enough to meet her gaze. “I’m asking Jiang-zongzhu for permission to leave.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening. “Leave? Why would you—A-Xian, no!”
She moved to raise him up from his kowtow, but he stopped her, bowing his head again. “I have to, shijie. Please understand.”
Jiang Yanli knelt beside him, her voice trembling. “I don’t understand. Did someone hurt you? Did—did I do something wrong?”
Wei Wuxian’s chest ached. “No, shijie. You’ve done nothing wrong. But this is something I have to do.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gripped his arm. “Then explain it to me! Let me help you! I told you to rely on us, Ying-er !”
The name hit him like a bolt of lightning. He hadn’t heard it in so long—not since he’d received his courtesy name. She’d always called him A-Xian after that, her affection woven into the syllables. But hearing her use his milk name again now, in the midst of her heartbreak, made the ache in his chest nearly unbearable.
He shook his head, his resolve firm despite the pain. “Shijie, this is my decision. Please… trust me.”
Her sobs were soft but unrelenting, the sound cutting through the quiet morning like a knife. Yet, even in her sorrow, she didn’t try to stop him. Instead, she reached up, cupping his face with trembling hands.
“If this is truly what you want,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “then I won’t hold you back. But A-Xian, promise me one thing. Wherever you go… don’t forget that you have a home here.”
Wei Wuxian swallowed hard, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I promise, shijie. I’ll never forget.”
She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Then go, if you must. But take care of yourself, Ying-er . Please.”
With those words, she released him, her hands falling to her lap as if letting him go took all the strength she had left.
And Wei Wuxian, trembling with guilt and love, turned his face down and bowed.
By the second day, Jiang Cheng’s patience snapped. He stormed into the courtyard, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the disciples gathered nearby.
Wei Wuxian didn’t lift his head. “I’m asking Jiang-zongzhu for permission to leave.”
Jiang Cheng grabbed his arm, trying to yank him to his feet. “You’re being ridiculous! Get up!”
Wei Wuxian resisted, his voice firm. “If I stand, it means I’m not serious about my decision. It means I don’t deserve the position of head disciple.”
Jiang Cheng’s face twisted with frustration. “What are you talking about? You’ve always been the best of us! Why would you leave now?”
Wei Wuxian remained silent, his resolve unshaken.
“Shixiong !” Jiang Cheng shouted, his voice cracking. “You can’t just leave! What about A-Jie? What about me ?”
Wei Wuxian’s throat tightened, but he didn’t respond. This day seemed full of surprise names, each more heartbreaking than the next.
“Fine! Stay there and rot, then!” Jiang Cheng snapped, storming off. But Wei Wuxian knew his brother’s anger came from a place of fear and worry, and the thought only strengthened his resolve.
The days passed slowly, each one marked by pain and exhaustion. Wei Wuxian’s knees were swollen and bruised, his body trembling with fatigue, but he didn’t move. Disciples passed by with pitying glances, though none dared to approach him except Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Yanli continued to bring him food and water, though she cried every time she saw him. Jiang Cheng alternated between angry outbursts and tense silence, his frustration palpable.
By the seventh day, even Yu-furen had taken notice. She appeared briefly in the courtyard, her sharp gaze narrowing as she assessed the situation. “Foolish boy,” she muttered before walking away.
It wasn’t until the evening of the seventh day that Jiang Fengmian finally opened the door.
“Come inside, Wei Ying,” Jiang Fengmian said quietly.
Wei Wuxian struggled to rise, his legs barely supporting him as he stepped into Jiang Fengmian’s study. He knelt again immediately, his forehead touching the ground. “Jiang-zongzhu, please allow me to leave the clan.”
Jiang Fengmian regarded him silently for a long moment. “Why?”
Wei Wuxian lifted his head, meeting his gaze. “Because I believe it’s the best way to protect what I hold dear. If I stay, I will never grasp what's truly important to me. Nor will I ever honor my parents properly.”
Jiang Fengmian’s expression softened at the mention of his parents, though his eyes were unreadable. “You’ve always been a part of this family, Wei Ying. Are you sure this is what you want?”
Wei Wuxian nodded, his resolve unwavering. “I am.”
Jiang Fengmian’s expression became unreadable as he listened to Wei Wuxian’s agreement. When the younger boy remained silent, Jiang Fengmian sighed deeply.
“You’ve always been stubborn, Wei Ying,” he said. “But I see now that you’re determined. You carry that part of A-Ze well.”
He paused and then turned his head. “ Very well. I will grant your request. I, least of all people, will reprimand you for chasing after true happiness ”
Wei Wuxian’s head shot up, surprise flickering across his face. “Thank you, Jiang-Shushu .”
Jiang Fengmian walked toward his desk, writing something on a piece of paper and then stamping it with his official seal.
He then handed him a letter-and from the looks of it, is a recommendation letter of release-, along with a small chest of resources—spiritual tools, money, and other supplies. “You will always have a family here, A-Ying. Remember that.”
Wei Wuxian bowed deeply, his heart heavy. “I will never forget.”
Wei Wuxian packed his belongings that night with Jiang Yanli by his side. She worked silently, her movements precise but laden with sorrow.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly, her hands pausing mid-fold.
“I do, shijie,” he replied, his voice gentle yet firm. “It’s the only way I can find true happiness.”
Her hands trembled, and though she quickly looked away, Wei Wuxian glimpsed the tears gathering in her eyes. He politely averted his gaze, giving her a moment to wipe them away.
“I always thought it would be the three of us,” Jiang Yanli said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You, A-Cheng, and me. But I suppose that was always a fool’s dream. I’ll leave one day too… with my marriage.”
Wei Wuxian said nothing, his silence as heavy as the room around them. For all his love for her, a tiny corner of his heart harbored bitterness—resentment toward her future clan, a family that had once celebrated his death. He wished her nothing but happiness, truly, but how could he forget the weight of fifty souls dragging him down? How could he erase the sting of her wedding robes, opulent enough to sustain the Wen remnants for a year, mocking his sacrifices?
A low hum from the pearl around his neck pulled him from the depths of his thoughts, grounding him. This Jiang Yanli had done none of those things. She was still his kind, selfless Shijie—the sister who doted on him endlessly. Perhaps, if all went well, their children would grow up unburdened by the shadows of their parents’ pasts.
His gaze drifted to the clarity bell lying on his bed, and he let out a faint laugh, tinged with irony. A fool’s errand, indeed.
Releasing a long breath, Wei Wuxian picked up the bell and set it aside. He focused on finishing his packing, intent on taking every piece of his past that he could carry.
The door burst open suddenly, and Jiang Cheng stormed in, his face red with anger. “So it’s true,” he spat. “You’re really leaving.”
“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli warned, her tone sharp and cutting.
Jiang Cheng ignored her, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re abandoning us. Just like Muqin always said—selfish, reckless—”
“Enough!” Jiang Yanli’s voice was sharp enough to silence even the angriest storm. She turned to her younger brother, her gaze fierce. “Mind your words, A-Cheng. Wei Ying is our brother, and he always will be.”
Wei Wuxian placed a hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, his touch light but steady. “I’m sorry, A-Cheng. But for me to truly live, I have to leave. This isn’t goodbye forever.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t respond, his jaw set tightly, but his shoulders trembled slightly. Wei Wuxian knew nothing he said would be enough to ease the sting of his departure. Silently, he turned back to his packing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jiang Cheng’s clenched hand relax as he reached out toward Jiang Yanli. A spark of hope flickered in Wei Wuxian’s chest.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a fool’s errand after all.
At the gates of the clan, Wei Wuxian stood quietly, taking in the familiar sights one last time. The towering stone archway, the shimmering lotus ponds, the banners bearing the Jiang Clan’s sigil—it was a scene etched into his memory, but today it felt more final, each detail heavy with the weight of goodbye.
Jiang Yanli approached first, carefully cradling a stack of food containers wrapped in cloth. Her gentle smile wavered as unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “I made your favorites,” she said softly, pressing the containers into his hands. “Lotus root and pork soup, sweet lotus seeds, and a few other things to keep you strong. If you ever need more, just send word. I’ll find a way.”
His hands trembled as he accepted the gift, his throat tightening. “Thank you, shijie . You’ve always taken care of me… more than I ever deserved.”
She shook her head, her tears falling freely now. “You deserve to be happy, A-Xian. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I promise,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Jiang Cheng stood a few paces away, arms crossed and his jaw set in a rigid line. His sharp gaze flicked over Wei Wuxian, but there was something softer beneath the anger. After a moment, he stepped forward and thrust a small pouch of money into Wei Wuxian’s hands.
“Here,” Jiang Cheng muttered gruffly. “This should last you a few months. Don’t waste it on something stupid.”
Wei Wuxian blinked down at the pouch, his fingers curling tightly around it. Looking up, he saw Jiang Cheng already averting his gaze, his ears tinged red. “A-Cheng… Thank you.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice cracking slightly. “And don’t come crawling back if you mess up, got it?”
A bittersweet smile tugged at Wei Wuxian’s lips. Before Jiang Cheng could react, he pulled him into a firm hug. “You’ll always be my brother, A-Cheng. No matter where I go.”
Jiang Cheng stiffened, his hands hovering awkwardly before he finally gave in, patting Wei Wuxian’s back with a grumbled, “You’re so annoying.”
Turning to Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian embraced her tightly as well. Her arms wrapped around him like a lifeline, her tears soaking into his shoulder. “I’ll miss you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Both of you.”
“And we’ll miss you,” she replied, her voice breaking. “Every day.”
As Wei Wuxian rode away from the gates of Lotus Pier, his heart was a storm of emotions—sorrow, resolve, and an undeniable flicker of hope. The pearl at his neck pulsed warmly against his skin, its faint glow steady and comforting, as though it carried the reassurance of the path he had chosen. He didn’t look back this time, refusing to risk faltering under the weight of their gazes. Yet he carried their final expressions with him: Jiang Yanli’s tearful smile, radiating her endless love, and Jiang Cheng’s tightly clenched fists, a complicated blend of anger, regret, and unspoken affection. These memories, he knew, would remain etched into his soul, an indelible reminder of what he had once had and what he had lost.
The road stretched ahead, winding into the unknown, yet Wei Wuxian’s destination felt certain. Somewhere beyond the distant horizon, Lan Wangji waited for him, steadfast and patient as ever. His presence would be a balm to Wei Wuxian’s weary soul, a reminder that love could endure even through the harshest storms. The thought of those familiar arms around him, the quiet strength and unwavering devotion in Lan Wangji’s eyes, filled him with renewed determination.
Wei Wuxian urged his horse forward, the gentle breeze carrying away the last remnants of doubt. Soon, the world would shrink to just the two of them—a reunion long overdue. And in that moment, as the pearl’s warmth seemed to echo the steady beat of his heart, Wei Wuxian smiled. He didn’t need to look back anymore. Ahead lay love, peace, and the promise of a lifetime together.
Until the end of time.