Chapter Text
The Sunshot Campaign had ended.
Wen Ruohan was dead.
The Wen Sect had fallen.
The cultivation world had returned to the peace that had once been stolen.
But not everything was as it seemed.
Lotus Pier was still as noisy as ever—the sound of hammers clanging outside the docks, the shouts of disciples echoing from the training grounds. Yet none of that disturbed their Sect Leader, Jiang Wanyin—Jiang Cheng—who was buried under stacks of documents: construction supply proposals, food distribution requests, even a marriage proposal for his sister, Jiang Yanli.
Damn it. When would it all end?
A-Jie was in Lanling, arranging her wedding with that peacock. And Wei Wuxian… who knew. Probably drowning himself in wine and fake smiles somewhere.
I don’t care. Really. I don’t care.
He hates me, doesn’t he? Always avoids me. I can’t even remember the last time he looked me in the eye.
BANG!
“WEI WUXIAN!!! What the hell is this?! Huh? Wha—let go of me! Where are you—Wei Wuxian!!”
Wei Wuxian suddenly appeared before him, grabbing Jiang Cheng’s hand with uncharacteristic strength and dragging him outside without a word.
‘What’s going on? He’s odd, sure, but not like this. The guy who avoids me like I’m a plague suddenly grabs my hand like that?’
“Wait! I can walk on my own! Wei Wuxian, let go!! Listen to me! Weii—”
He finally stopped and turned around. I was ready to yell at him—but when I saw his eyes, I fell silent. Those eyes—once bright and full of light—were now empty and dim. He was looking at me, yes, but I wasn’t sure he was really seeing me. His gaze went through me… to something far behind. Something terrifying.
Suddenly, he pulled me again, making me stumble almost to the ground. He caught me—held me tightly, letting his long hair fall across my shoulder. I was stunned, truly.
Then he murmured.
“A-Cheng…”
“No…”
“Don’t…”
“You mustn’t… stop… don’t do it…”
“Let him go… don’t leave me…”
He was seeing something.
And for the first time, I realized: He was seeing my shadow… not me.
“Wei Wuxian!! What’s wrong?! Look at me!! Wei Wuxian!!”
I patted his back, but he didn’t respond. So I pushed him away, wanting to see his face, to snap him out of it.
“Wei Wuxian… A-Xian…”
I gently slapped his cheek, repeating his name like A-Jie used to.
“Huh? What? Why am I here?”
“Wei Wuxian.”
“A-Cheng, I’m sorry… I…”
“It’s okay. Are you alright?”
“No… I hurt you… I dragged you out here.”
“It’s okay. A small bruise like this is nothing for a cultivator. It'll heal in half a day.”
“You should at least go to the physician!”
“Mmn, alright. Let’s go now. You should get checked too.”
“What?! Me?! Aiyaa A-Cheng, I’m perfectly fine. Look—”
That smile again. The one I wanted to erase. The forced smile, the fake one that hides pain. I hated it.
“You don’t look fine to me.”
“Hahahaha, aiyaa A-Cheng. I’m really fine. Eh? Wait—are you worried about me, Chengcheng~?”
“Yes.”
“…W-What?!”
“Strange? To care about your own brother?”
“…No, no… of course not hahaha.”
Silence wrapped around us as we reached the infirmary. No one spoke. Not even the sounds of disciples training could break through the wall of quiet between us. I could feel some eyes on us, curious, but I didn’t care.
“Zongzhu,” greeted Head Physician Jiang Bolin.
“Jiang Bolin, raise your head.”
“What happened? Are you injured, Zongzhu?”
“A minor wound. Check Wei Wuxian first.”
“What? A-Cheng! No, I—I’m really fine!”
“Quiet. Bolin, check him first.”
“Very well. Let me tend to your wound first, Zongzhu. After that, I’ll examine Wei-gongzi for you.”
Jiang Cheng extended his arm. Bruises, red and purple, formed the shape of a tight grip, with deep scratches from fingernails causing small droplets of blood to stain his pale skin. Wei Wuxian looked shocked, quickly lowering his head. His face was filled with guilt.
Once done, Jiang Bolin turned to Wei Wuxian.
“Wei-gongzi, your turn.”
“…He’s not injured. I mean physically. But something’s wrong. I don’t know… but his eyes—his soul—feels absent.”
“Understood, Zongzhu. Wei-gongzi, please extend your hand.”
Wei Wuxian obeyed, still keeping his head low. But when spiritual energy entered his meridians—he flinched like he was shocked. He slapped Bolin’s hand away, eyes wide with panic… and met mine.
That look—like he was seeing a ghost.
Or like… he was seeing
my mother
, Madam Yu.
Without a word, Wei Wuxian bolted out the door.
“I’ll—”
“Zongzhu! Wait!”
I stopped. Bolin grabbed my arm. I glared at him, but he only said quietly,
“I… I couldn’t sense his core.”
Those words echoed in my mind as I ran after Wei Wuxian. No core? That was impossible. Jiang Bolin must’ve been joking. Wei Wuxian was the brightest cultivator of our generation. Suddenly… something crept into my mind, something I didn’t want to believe—but what if it was true?
I touched my lower abdomen. The golden core was there.
Spinning. Humming. Still intact. But… it shouldn’t be.
“No way… Wei Wuxian…”
Could it be—back then? During those three months he vanished?
Did A-Jie know? Was I the only one left in the dark?
I slowly stopped running. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.
Of course he avoided me. How could he face someone who made him suffer? Who made him lose his core. Who forced him down the demonic path just to survive.
“This is my fault.”
I returned to the infirmary.
“Zongzhu.”
“Explain it to me, Bolin.”
The physician took a deep breath.
“As I said… I couldn’t sense his core. But more than that—his meridians are saturated with resentful energy. It’s thick, overwhelming. It’s slowly eating away at his body and mind.”
“Hallucinations?”
“Yes, Zongzhu. Early symptoms of resentful energy. Illusions. Distorted perception. And since he doesn’t have a core, the effects may be far more severe.”
“…Can he be cured?”
“I don’t know. But… perhaps we can try help from Gusu Lan. Cleansing music.”
“And… can he form another core?”
“His meridians are intact. So, maybe. But we must clear the energy first.”
I wanted to ask one last thing. About core transfer. But the words died in my throat. I was a coward. Always had been.
If I have to hear the truth… let it come from Wei Wuxian himself. Not someone else.
“Nothing. I’m leaving.”
I returned to my office. I couldn’t sit still. So I wrote a letter—to Lan Xichen, requesting Lan Wangji’s help with cleansing music. And another to A-Jie.
If he won’t look at me, then let A-Jie comfort him.
If I can’t reach him, then let someone he trusts extend a hand.
At the very least…Let me do this.