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Wei Wuxian really didn’t mean to die, let alone so gruesomely. Being killed in battle sounded nice and all, but there was a particular element to it that a lot of those people forgot.
The pain had hit him first, ramming into him with the force of the typhoons that so often ravaged Yunmeng’s buildings.
It had taken a lot out of his considerably high pain tolerance to keep himself from losing it right then and there, scrambling to take his knife out and tear his own throat out, just to ease the pain.
Luckily for Jiang Cheng and their shidis and shimeis, Wei Wuxian was considerate enough to know that killing himself in front of them after taking a blow for his brother would probably traumatise them, which is why he had simply directed his knife towards the monster and not the perfect target that was his throat.
Not that it had mattered in the end—both him and that monster were drenched in enough resentment that a battalion of Lan cultivators wouldn’t be enough to cleanse it, and between the two bloodied figures, not even Jiang Cheng could tell who was who.
“Sorry, A-Cheng— it’s really alright and it doesn’t even hurt that bad,” Wei Wuxian laughs, ignoring the blood spilling from his mouth even as his brother wipes it carelessly.
“Wei Wuxian, I swear if you die—“ Jiang Cheng isn’t one to plead, but he’s almost begging now as he watches his brother, who has never once made so much as a whimper under his mother’s whip with his ridiculously high pain tolerance, cry out loud. “It’s not your fault. Tell Lan Zhan I love him and that I wish I had gotten more time and more love with—“
And with that, Wei Wuxian dies. By any standard, everyone should move on, him included. He went through the same soul-soothing rites as his siblings, by all accounts he should be bathing in a river and opening his eyes to a new life by now.
But for some reason, the monster was different from an ordinary ghost. Its resentment anchored him to the world and forced him through days and weeks and months of agony until even the heavens had to answer his desperate calls.
Please someone come and save me—I—I haven’t messed up so badly that I’d deserve this hell—
Momentary glimpses into reality were the only haven Wei Wuxian could take solace in, clinging onto those moments like an alcoholic to his favourite bottle, drinking every moment in.
It was in one of these glimpses that he saw the heavenly official, draped in white and accompanied by a youth in red.
If it weren’t for their qi, so strong that Wei Wuxian felt an instinctive urge to run away, he would have mistaken them for a pair of young masters, commonplace as they were in Yunmeng.
He himself had consorted with many of them, learning the arts of good-for-nothings and uselessness.
“San Lang, this has to be him.” One of them peered at him with curious eyes, and if he weren’t crippled in pain, Wei Wuxian would have likely made a satisfactory amount of inappropriate jokes.
As it was, he was shrivelled up in pain, and narrowly avoided his doom by whimpering and generally looking pitiful.
“So you’re Wei Wuxian,” San Lang huffed. “It took a while to track your sorry ass down.”
Wei Wuxian’s words came out garbled, but he liked to think the man got the general sentiment by his narrowed eyes and the same huffy air everyone got after spending more than a moment in his presence.
“Yeah, yeah. You were meant to ascend back there, but unfortunately for you, you fucked that right up. And so this entire mess got shuffled onto Dianxia’s already too-large workload because the heavens are just too—“
The man—was he a prince then, Wei Wuxian wondered—interjected then, an apologetic look already on his face. “No, it’s really alright. I don’t mind taking on one more thing.”
“Gege works too hard.” San Lang crossed his hands, looking far too much like a petulant child.
The prince blushed and hid a smile behind his face, only looking away when his face became too thin to hold the red back.
This was all very cute and nice, but Wei Wuxian would really rather that either suffer in silence, or be rescued sooner. Not that silence was nice, but it was a lot easier to endure compared to the wrench in his heart whenever he looked at the pure happiness in front of him.
He debated the pros and cons of saying this directly to these two—gods? whatever they were—and decided that he really couldn’t care anymore and went for it.
“Hi, you guys are really cute and all—” Wei Wuxian gritted out.
San Lang grinned rakishly without an ounce of shame, which Wei Wuxian now understood was irritating as all hells when he wasn’t the one giving it, and his partner turned to him with an embarrassed expression, like he had forgotten Wei Wuxian was even there.
“Oh, of course! I’m so sorry!” The prince exclaimed. He took out a talisman that Wei Wuxian would be definitely be asking about layer on, and tapped it once, causing sparks to ignite on the paper.
The sparks grew larger and larger, covering Wei Wuxian’s body until all he could see was white, dots of rainbows spotted across his vision.
Strangely enough, as the sparks grew brighter, his pain lessened to a manageable level. What was once a pain so intense that he could barely utter more than a sentence calmed down, and Wei Wuxian finally felt like he could breathe.
“Are you feeling any better?” The prince’s worried face made its way towards Wei Wuxian, who waved him off as he got up, vision still spotty.
The prince was definitely his favourite between the two of them—much nicer and more helpful. And if his white robes gave him comfort, that was no one’s business but his own.
Wei Wuxian wiped the blood dripping from his nose and grinned, a sweet thing that he had learned to master from the marketplaces of Yunmeng.
“Never better! May I know the names of my saviours before they depart back to the heavens?” He teased, dropping into a half-bow as far as he could muster.
“Oh, how rude of me—I’m Xie Lian, and this is San—I mean, this is Hua Cheng.” Xie Lian smiled back at him, as if he hadn’t just made Wei Wuxian cough up blood.
Xie Lian and Hua Cheng?
Was he being toyed with? Wei Wuxian faintly thought, hysteria pawing away at his mind.
Taking another glance at the pair, he realised that what he had mistaken for plain white robes was in fact silk robes of a quality so high that if the Lan cultivators ever saw it, they would drink vinegar for the rest of their lives.
Beside him, Hua Cheng tilted his head and smirked, the scimitar by his side repeating the action.
How on earth had he missed that scimitar—and not to mention the countless silver butterflies decorating his crimson robes?
Admittedly, Wei Wuxian had barely been able to discern that there had been two people and not three, let alone see the intricate details of their wardrobe. He tried to comfort himself with that fact, and looked to the sky in an effort not to scream.
Good gods, he had the Heavenly Emperor and a Calamity in front of him. Wei Wuxian could almost hear Jiang Cheng scream at him to follow proper etiquette and bow, and for all of their differences, he had been brought up well enough to know when to concede.
Wei Wuxian dropped into a deep bow, low enough that his hair scraped the ground and he could see each individual marking on the worms that crawled in the grass.
His muscles protested the rough treatment, but he continued holding the bow until Xie Lian hurriedly told him to rise.
“Oh, you really don’t have to do all that, you’re still injured!” He winced, taking out some salve from his sleeves.
Hua Cheng nodded in agreement towards Wei Wuxian, as if he had finally done something worthy of his approval.
“Thank you, your Majesty for your kindness. You as well, Crimson Rain.” Wei Wuxian fixed his posture and inclined his head, trying not to groan at the way it made his neck ache.
Xie Lian shook his head gently. “No need for thanks, your death was the result of a mistake on our part. If it wasn’t for that monster, Yunmeng wouldn’t have burnt, and none of you would have gotten dragged into this mess.”
Wei Wuxian conceded the point with a minute nod, and repeated his words. “Still, thank you. I would have been stuck like—like that pathetic mess you found me as.”
“You were quite pathetic.” Hua Cheng laughed. “But Gege does deserve your thanks.”
It took a lot out of him not to snap back with a witty comment, already roiling under his skin, but Wei Wuxian remembered the stories about the last Emperor and reeled it back with a firm touch.
He didn’t exactly want to end up incinerated for his insolence, even if he was dying to poke fun at Hua Cheng.
“San Lang, there really isn’t a need. We just need you to come with us for now so we can nurse your soul so it’s whole again.” Xie Lian explained.
“Why go to all this trouble? Not that I’m not grateful for it, Your Majesty, I’m simply confused.” Wei Wuxian questioned, his tone deceptively calm for the turmoil in his heart.
Hua Cheng interjected here, apparently fed up with how long the process was taking.
“Because the heavens fucked up and killed you, so now you’re their responsibility. Just take it so you can reincarnate—unless you want to be stuck wandering the earth forever?” Hua Cheng bared his teeth, his canines sharpened so they looked just like the fangs of a snake.
“Ah.” Wei Wuxian let out. “I see. Alright then, should we get moving?”
He shook the dust off his robes and took the twigs from his head, tossing them into a nearby bush.
Xie Lian exchanged a look with his husband, and nodded. In his hands were a pair of dice, still being shaken.
“Follow us, then.”
The dice landed on the grass with a soft thump, revealing a set of doors that had most certainly not been there just a second ago.
Wei Wuxian knew better than to question it, bit he really had so many questions to ask about the dice—how did they link to the door, were they powered by spiritual power, where could he get one, and could he just touch it for a second—
“Don’t even think about touching them.” Hua Cheng casually stated, as if he had read his mind and decided not to answer the actually important questions Wei Wuxian had bottled up.
Could Calamities read minds? He had certainly heard talk about gods doing so, though he wasn’t sure if the same applied to Hua Cheng.
He stole a distrusting glance towards the Calamity before giving up and sighing, realising that Hua Cheng was staring at his husband instead.
Even if he was reading his mind, what could he even do about it? Wei Wuxian reasoned.
Before he could ponder it any longer, he was pushed into the doors and came out into a long hallway, lit with floating lanterns and surrounded by water lilies.
For a split second, Wei Wuxian thought he was back at Lotus Pier and wanted to jump into the water. Then he looked around and came to his senses.
“Welcome to Ghost City, Wei Wuxian.” Xie Lian remarked, his tone wistful as he stared at the streets visible from a distance.
“I feel right at home.” Wei Wuxian laughed.
Hua Cheng looked at him without an inch of amusement, causing him to clam up and nod.
Satisfied, the man walked up to his husband and held his hand out, only letting it rest by his hip when Xie Lian clasped it with his own.
Right at home. He stared at the water lilies and pretended like he didn’t hear Jiang Cheng sobbing over his corpse.
Wei Wuxian surprised even himself with the lies he could tell sometimes. They tasted too much like truth for his liking.
Wei Wuxian panted like the dogs he swore he would never bear any resemblance to. That promise seemed futile in the face of such raw pain though—Hua Cheng lazily siphoning the resentment from his soul, watching the gamblers below him with amusement.
He kinda wanted to punch the ghost. Just a little.
Hua Cheng had technically been nothing but helpful, but every instance they interacted brought Wei Wuxian nothing but pain.
Just a week ago, he had tried to cleave the resentment from his soul, nearly severing the bond between his soul and corpse.
And to no one’s surprise, it had hurt. Like, really hurt. Rake-me-over-hot-coals-and-dip-my-wounds-in-salt kind of hurt.
Wei Wuxian still had nightmares about the sensation.
Either way, Hua Cheng was helping him, and since he didn’t want to get dissipated before entering the cycle of reincarnation and possibly being able to see his friends and family again, he held his tongue.
Looks like death was finally teaching him that restraint Wei Wuxian had barely felt a need to exercise in life, bar the most extreme circumstances—Madam Yu’s wrath, for one, had often demanded him to take out those manners of his.
“You’re about a quarter of the way done. If I take any more, you’ll probably collapse.” Hua Cheng waved his hand to let the curtain raise slightly. “Just go back and rest. We’ll be done by the year’s end.”
The first time Lan Zhan came to Ghost City, Wei Wuxian was still sleeping, the moon hanging above him and the stars whispering.
He was stuck in dreams, swimming into lakes and landing on clouds. The crows cawed and the sun grew darker and darker until he couldn’t see anything farther than his hands.
Blurred faces spoke to him, pleading with him in tongues he couldn’t understand.
I don’t—What are you saying—
All throughout his dream, though, was the constant thrum of a guqin, silent and calming.
By the time he woke up, the melody fading into oblivion, the sun was laughing at him and Lan Zhan was gone.
“What was Lan Zhan here for?” Wei Wuxian asked, already knowing the answer.
The gamblers’ den was loud around him, but he still heard Hua Cheng’s answer crystal clear.
Hua Cheng looked at him with eyes kinder than they had ever been to him and replied, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
“You.”
By the third time Wei Wuxian heard about Lan Zhan’s challenge, he was practically begging Hua Cheng to let him see him.
“Absolutely not, we’re barely halfway done. The moment you see him, you’ll become steeped with resentment, and all of my work will have been wasted. The only reason I let him bet is because he somehow found some ridiculous artifact his clan has stored. By the time you’re cleansed, you’ll want to leave anyway.” Hua Cheng stated.
A beat passed.
Wei Wuxian swallowed down his fears. “But can’t I just see him for a second?”
Hua Cheng groaned and put his head in his hands, so tired of this that he snapped his hands and resorted to one of his favourite spells.
A daruma doll rolled around the floor with a pout, until one pointed glare had it stay silent.
Hua Cheng finally felt his headache cease, the roiling mess calming down to a steady hum.
“I’ll say this one more time. No.”
“Are you alright?” Xie Lian’s concerned voice had Wei Wuxian scrambling to get up and bow.
“He’s been wallowing about Lan Wangji for the past month. It’s pathetic, even for him.” Hua Cheng snickered, making Xie Lian gently admonish him.
“San Lang, they’re just young.”
Wei Wuxian nodded frantically in agreement.
Hua Cheng’s smile was as soft as it always was when directed towards his husband. “If Gege insists, it must be true.”
Wei Wuxian’s heart ached when he remembered that Lan Zhan had done the same thing, once upon a time.
(Those memories seemed farther than Gusu now.)
Wei Wuxian hadn’t expected Lan Zhan to be willing to stake his own hands this time—his hands! How would he play the guqin or use his sword then?
Hua Cheng did say that he erased his memories every time, but Wei Wuxian had a hard time believing it when he heard of the increasing desperation that Lan Zhan wielded.
“Just keep walking with him, and don’t make a sound. You won’t make it out anyways, no need to make it harder on yourselves.” Hua Cheng flicked his hand, sending the string towards Wei Wuxian’s outstretched fingers.
It tied a pretty little bow around his ring finger, and Wei Wuxian thought about its twin on Lan Zhan’s with an emotion he couldn’t quite name.
“You’re almost clear of resentment, so leaving would theoretically be fine now, but going to the mortal realm will only turn you into a resentful ghost. You’ve said you’re alright with that, but you don’t know what it entails. If you don’t want to know, you have the right of stoppage during Lan Wangji’s trials.”
Wei Wuxian nodded, already having thought this through, but before he could speak, Hua Cheng snapped his fingers again and sealed his lips shut.
“On second thought, I don’t trust you not to talk. Or cry, for that matter.”
A betrayed expression made its way to Wei Wuxian’s face, but he simply nodded and held back tears. The urge to go back and run grew ever larger, especially as he turned invisible and exhaled air he didn’t need on Lan Zhan’s back.
Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, do you know I’m here?
Zhiji, love of my life, my life, my soul, I’m here, I’m here. Don’t frown, sweetheart, your face deserves nothing but smiles.
Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan—
Wei Wuxian’s mouth remained sealed, despite the tears it faced when he tried to get it open.
Perhaps Hua Cheng was right, because he would have definitely broken the rules of their trial by now.
And faced with so many fierce ghosts watching their trial, it would be difficult for Hua Cheng to claim that he hadn’t, forcing him to resort to canceling the trial at best or punishing Wei Wuxian at worst.
In the end, Hua Cheng really did have a soft spot for whatever or whoever his husband told him to help. Even if it was Wei Wuxian, who had somehow managed to annoy him so heavily that his room had soundproofing wards that prevented him from leaving without Hua Cheng’s approval.
Wei Wuxian stared at Lan Zhan’s back, and held onto the solace that it brought, hoping that it would block out the accusing eyes on his back.
He almost wanted to run away again and use his right of stoppage—let dead dogs lie, and all that—but Lan Zhan started humming.
It was so quiet that Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure that Lan Zhan even knew he was doing it, but something in him sang at the melody.
Wei Wuxian couldn’t sing with him, but he went through the notes with Lan Zhan in his head all the same.
By the time they reached the farthest ends of Ghost City, he had repeated the song countless times, and there was only one pair of eyes still staring at him.
The butterfly flapped its wings and landed on a tree, its silver aura illuminating the darkness.
Lan Zhan, we’re almost there. Just hold on for a moment, and I’ll pass. Just—
“Wei Ying? I crossed the line, you can talk now—“ Lan Zhan started saying.
Wait, Lan Zhan, don’t turn—
Wei Wuxian’s foot was in the mortal realm, and his other in the ghost when Lan Zhan looked back at him and despaired.
Lan Zhan, it’s alright. I forgive you, there’s nothing to be forgiven, Lan Zhan just—
All he could say was:
“Lan Zhan?”
Wei Wuxian cursed himself for the lack of eloquence as he faded away back into that bright light.
No, no, no, what I really wanted to say was—
Hua Cheng murmured to Lan Zhan, bargaining with him for deals he couldn’t hear a single detail of.
Hua Cheng, please just let me see him again, I’ll do anything, please—
E-ming opened its eye and stared at Wei Wuxian, unimpressed. Its owner did the same, his gaze briefly flickering to his protesting voice.
“Thirteen it is…”
Thirteen years?! Wei Wuxian wanted to wail. He couldn’t stand another thirteen days after seeing Lan Zhan, let alone thirteen years!
Hua Cheng ignored his pleas and teleported them both to his palace, where he immediately started cursing after seeing the state of his energy.
“Fucking seriously? You’ve set us back months, damn it. One look at your Lan Zhan and you nearly qi-deviate!” Hua Cheng siphons out his resentment just a tad sharper than normal, and Wei Wuxian yelps.
“You’re damn lucky I gave you thirteen years. If you want to remain on this earth, you better work on taming that resentment and making it your own. Otherwise, the moment you step on mortal soil, you’re going to become a fierce corpse, if that.”
Wei Wuxian focused on the resentment in his core and touched it, sending shivers down his spine. It responded with a hiss, though something about it seemed less hungry now.
“It’s just thirteen years. Lan Wangji’s probably going to ascend anyway, so it won’t be a problem. Just wait.” Hua Cheng’s mocking tone snapped him out of his wallowing, which was probably exactly what the ghost wanted, judging by his careful eyes.
Wei Wuxian nodded gratefully, and descended into the mindless bliss of a petty argument.
Just wait. He could do that.
Thirteen years came and went, and now Wei Wuxian was at the threshold of the realms. By now, he could leave Ghost City by himself.
By now, Hua Cheng didn’t have a responsibility for him, though he was still living for free at his manor. Wei Wuxian suspected the man was writing up a bill for him to take home by the end of his stay.
Wei Wuxian could just leave, as he could have done for the past two years.
But Lan Zhan was waiting for him, and Wei Wuxian didn’t want to go to the mortal realm only to be scorned, never having seen Lan Zhan.
No, if Lan Zhan was essentially banned from Ghost City until the thirteen years was up, Wei Wuxian would wait the full time period and make sure he could follow Lan Wangji out.
And this time, Hua Cheng promised he could leave no matter what, even if one of them messed up.
Apparently, no one remembered Lan Wangji anymore, and this time they knew enough to keep the trial secret. If it could be called that, with Wei Wuxian clutching Lan Zhan’s hand like a lifeline.
When they reached the walls, they ran over, robes fluttering behind them. And then they were free.
Wei Wuxian brought his face up and embraced Lan Zhan with his entire heart, unreserved and unabashedly in love.
Somewhere in Ghost City, he was sure Hua Cheng was holding a party to celebrate being rid of him.
He grinned against Lan Zhan’s lips at the thought—at which point, he had better things to think about.
He could leave for Yunmeng and see his family again, or finally go to Gusu like Lan Zhan had been urging him to visit for so long!
Wei Wuxian could do so much now, and he had all the time in the world.
Still, he managed to rush out a prayer to the god and ghost that had found him that day.
Taizi Dianxia, Hua Chengzhu, thank you.