Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I hate them. I hate them all so much.”

“They’ve been hurting me my entire life—and they hurt my mother even longer.”

“To them, we were nothing but worthless trash, something to trample on as they pleased.”

“They were born with everything, and we had nothing. Where’s the justice in that?!”

“It fills me with fury to think we share the same blood.”

“My mother is dead. She was the kindest person in the world. But she’s gone now. Because of them.”

“I have nothing left to live for. Only hatred remains. And vengeance.”

“So I call upon you. Only you can carry the weight of my hatred.”

“I beg you—like I’ve never begged anyone before—come, Yiling Patriarch, and avenge us! Make them feel pain and suffering until they know no peace!!”

“KILL THEM ALL!!!”

That was Mo Xuanyu’s final thought before the array flared in a blinding crimson glow—and then the soothing darkness swallowed him whole. At last, peace.

=+=

Peace ended just as swiftly as it had come, when a sharp kick to the ribs jolted him out of the blissful void.

Mo Xuanyu groaned, rolling toward the wall of the shed. His head spun violently, the world around him a chaotic blur, and worst of all—his body felt strangely lifeless, as if it no longer belonged to him. He hadn’t gone numb—it hurt like hell—but it was as if he had no strength, no control over his limbs.

“What the fuck is going on?” The question rang through his head.

A very good and very logical thought, indeed.

Only—it wasn’t his.

The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water. In an instant, the fog lifted. His vision snapped into a harsh, painful clarity. Standing before him was that bastard, Mo Ziyuan, face as ugly as ever, and behind him stood his sycophant, A-Tong, his expression twisted in contempt and disgust. Several other servants wandered through the shed, destroying anything their hands or feet touched. Mo Ziyuan was yelling something, waving his arms around—he might have even spat on him.

Normally, this would’ve triggered a flood of furious emotions and murderous thoughts, but right now it seemed like the least of Mo Xuanyu’s problems. There was someone in his head! Once the realization hit, he could feel the presence—something foreign, strange and deeply uncomfortable. It made his skin crawl. He heard a steady stream of curses echoing in his mind, thrown around by the stranger, along with other words he couldn’t process in his rising panic. He barely noticed that he’d been left alone in the wrecked shed. Well—alone with the intruder. Fueled by adrenaline, he immediately tried to sit up.

Or, at least, he tried. His body didn’t so much as twitch.

Mo Xuanyu made another attempt, just as futile. Waves of terror crashed over him. Someone was inside him—and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Not even move a fucking toe. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, even though he was breathing—just not of his own volition. That only made it worse, triggering a desperate, mental spiral into hyperventilation.

It didn’t help much—but apparently it did finally get the intruder’s attention.

“Uhhh… what is that sound? Where’s it coming from? Sounds like someone just sprinted from Yunmeng to Qinghe without stopping…”

It took several tries before Mo Xuanyu managed to force out a response—or rather, a thought, since he couldn’t even open his mouth to speak.

“W-w-who… Who are y-you, wh-what… WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HEAD?!?!”

Okay. Not the most elegant sentence he’d ever constructed, but hey—can you blame him?! It’s not every day you lose control of your body and start hearing strange voices in your head!

Or maybe… maybe he really had gone completely insane, just like everyone always said. That would at least explain a lot.

“Ughhh, gods, why so loud? Seriously, what a welcome—man wakes up for the first time in years and immediately gets kicked in the ribs and screamed at. Uggghh, incredibly rude. Who raised you…” The voice trailed off into grumbling too faint for Mo Xuanyu to catch.

(Do thoughts have volume? Apparently they do. You learn something new every day.)

His body moved—still not of his own will—and shifted into a seated position. One hand lifted to his head, rubbing at the spot where it hurt the most. The blood that smeared on his fingers wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“Riiight, okay, so maybe you’d like to tell me what the hell is going on here, oh mysterious and very loud voice? I seem to be a little out of the loop. But you’ll have to forgive me, I’ve been, y’know, pretty dead for a while, and your little ritual was kind of a rude awakening.”

Mo Xuanyu stayed silent, utterly speechless. There were so many things in that rambling mess that left him stunned. At least the stranger’s confusion—and the oddly casual tone—managed to drag him out of his spiral of panic. His brain slowly began to reboot, starting the painstaking process of thinking and analyzing again.

“Who—who are you?” Fine. He was really slowly starting to function again, still completely dazed, with no idea where else to begin.

“Uhh, shouldn’t you be the one telling me that, kid?” the voice replied. “Because I definitely don’t know why I just woke up in someone else’s body with an extra voice in my—wait. Oh no. This is your body, isn’t it? Did I just possess you? I’ve never possessed anyone before! Is this what it’s like?! Can you even possess someone by accident?! Shit, I really should know this kind of thing… Anyway! Just—don’t freak out too much, okay? I get it, this is probably a little... unsettling for you. Maybe even more than a little. I swear I didn’t mean to possess you. I’m really sorry about that. Up until like five minutes ago I didn’t even remember I existed and now I have no idea what’s going on. So, hey! We’re both in the same boat, right? Two confused guys, stuck in one body, ha ha ha... yeah, not very funny, I know. But don’t worry! We’ll figure it out somehow, kid!”

The voice sounded like it could go on and on forever. Mo Xuanyu was struggling to keep up with the spirit’s monologue.

“Oh, and to answer your question—I’m Wei Wuxian.”

And just like that—Mo Xuanyu remembered everything that had happened before he lost consciousness.

Fury. Pain. Desperation.

The ritual.

The Yiling Patriarch. Wei Wuxian.

Oh gods. He did it.

He had summoned the Yiling Patriarch!

But... this wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He was meant to offer up his body to the most terrifying, bloodthirsty entity that had terrorized the Jianghu in decades—and then disappear forever. Fade into a peaceful oblivion. So nothing would ever hurt again.

Instead—everything hurt. And in his head was some guy muttering about accidental possessions, rude teenagers, and painful wake-up calls after death. He definitely didn’t sound like a world-ending madman thirsty for blood.

Had Mo Xuanyu messed up the ritual somehow? He’d followed every instruction perfectly—he was sure of it. But maybe the instructions themselves had been incomplete. Maybe he’d summoned the wrong spirit. Something weaker than the Yiling Patriarch, something that couldn’t fully push his consciousness out—and that’s why they ended up in this strange limbo, sharing a single body.

Ugh. Why did nothing ever go the way he wanted...

While his thoughts spiraled, the not-Wei-Wuxian ghost crawled over to the array scrawled on the floor and began examining it.

“Aha, I see... this is your work, isn’t it? So it’s not my fault. Ha! What a relief—I don’t need to add this to the already way-too-long list of my sins. Alright, let’s see what you did that dragged me here… By the way, kid, doing this kind of thing is insanely dangerous. Demonic cultivation isn’t child’s play. It can go very badly for you!”

Mo Xuanyu felt genuinely offended. “I’m not a kid, I’m twenty-one!” Sure, there were probably more urgent things to focus on at the moment, but damned if he was going to let some ghost scold him like he was a toddler caught playing with grown-up weapons.

“Oh really? And I’m—! Uh... actually, I have no idea how long I’ve been dead, or if I should even count that time… Anyway, when I died, I was older than you, so yeah—you are a kid. And a brat. A very dumb one, honestly. What the hell is this? A Body Offering Ritual?! Are you serious?! Where did you even find this? Didn’t those idiots make sure barely anyone had access to things like this?! And did no one tell you that performing forbidden rituals is a TERRIBLE idea?! Like very, very terrible?! One mistake and you could’ve ended up as a snack for some demon! You’re lucky it was just me. Although I must say, I’m deeply offended. I’m not some evil spirit! In fact, I’d bet there isn’t a more gentle spirit in all the realms than me! What an awful misunderstanding of my character! If I were truly vengeful, I’d have eaten you already. But since I’m NOT, consider yourself spared. You’re welcome.”

Honestly, Mo Xuanyu had lost the thread of the ghost’s rant somewhere halfway through. His still-foggy brain couldn’t keep up with the man’s chaotic rambling. Gods, he talked so much.

“But well, what’s done is done—can’t turn back time now, so let’s work with what we’ve got. Why’d you summon me, anyway? Must be something serious if you were willing to sacrifice yourself. Damn, kid... you really tried to give up your soul just for revenge? How are you holding up? I mean, obviously not well—otherwise we wouldn’t be here—but you get what I mean.”

The best indicator of just how much of a failure Mo Xuanyu’s life had been was probably the fact that the ghost he summoned to exact vengeance on his tormentors was only the third person in his entire life to ever ask him that question.

The first had been, of course, his mother—always so caring, always worrying about him, even when she really should have worried more about herself. The second person... he didn’t want to think about them. Not now. Not when he knew, without a doubt, that all their kindness had been a lie—just another mask hiding rot underneath. A rot that had ruined him.

The ghost actually sounded genuine, despite the earlier scolding. Compassionate, not pitying—and that, honestly, was weird. Mo Xuanyu knew the difference between those two things very well. The sincerity threw him off, but only for a moment. He gathered himself quickly. At last, he managed to form something like a coherent sentence.

“Um, sorry, I think I must’ve messed up the ritual or something. I summoned the wrong ghost. And I... I don’t know how to undo it.”

There was a pause. A long one.

“Who were you trying to summon?”

“The Yiling Patriarch.”

“Right. Well—that’s me.”

Mo Xuanyu blinked. Well—he would have blinked, if he had any control over his body. (Gods, that was getting more frustrating by the minute.)

“You’re not the Yiling Patriarch,” he said with utter certainty, without a single ounce of doubt. This loudmouthed rambler couldn’t possibly be the monster that the greatest cultivators of the modern age still whispered about in fear. The heretic who devoured infants, dragged young girls to his lair, and cackled while mercilessly butchering innocent puppies.

Someone like that should have... an aura. A presence. A voice that screamed I AM EVIL the second you heard it.

Mo Xuanyu had met plenty of bad people in his life. All kinds. He’d lived the lesson of how deceiving they could be—playing the role of kind and compassionate people, while their cruelty seethed just under the surface, waiting to pounce.

But Wei Wuxian wasn’t supposed to be that kind of villain. He was supposed to be mad, unhinged, consumed by resentful energy. He was supposed to thirst for blood and the screams of his victims. He was supposed to be perfect for revenge. The perfect weapon to unleash hell on the monsters that had ruined Mo Xuanyu’s life.

Evil was supposed to ooze from his very presence.

“You know,” the voice replied, “I think I might know a little better than you whether I’m the Yiling Patriarch or not. Though honestly, I’d be perfectly fine not using that title, it’s absolutely dreadful and I have no idea who came up with it, but definitely—”

“Do you have any proof of that?” After just five minutes of mental conversation, Mo Xuanyu had already figured out that this ghost was the kind of person who could talk forever unless you interrupted him—so that’s exactly what he did. He really wanted some clear, straightforward answers. “You don’t act like him at all.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re too young to remember what I was like back then.”

“I had history lessons!” Okay, not many—his time studying at the Carp Tower had been short, but he had a few. He wasn’t completely uneducated. “Besides, everyone knows what Wei Wuxian was like! There are still tons of people who remember him, his crimes, his wickedness! And you just said there’s nothing wicked about you. The worst thing you’ve done so far is call me a brat.”

(Which still wasn’t nice, but didn’t quite reach the level of atrocities attributed to the Yiling Patriarch.)

There was a pause. No answer came right away. The ghost looked around the shed, slowly taking it in. He even crawled over to a small puddle and peered at Mo Xuanyu’s reflection. He felt very awkward under that intense stare. And he could feel it—he was being judged. His makeup was his business, thank you very much. That weird guy had no right to look so critically at him.

He was about to speak up—demand a reply—when the ghost beat him to it. “You think I’m not Wei Wuxian because I don’t fit the image of the bloodthirsty monster you’ve heard about from your elders,” he said flatly. “I honestly don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” He gave a short, humorless chuckle—and then, suddenly, the easygoing tone vanished, replaced by something heavier. “Setting aside the fact that you’ve known me for—what, five minutes?—and you know nothing about me, here’s a piece of advice, kid: Don’t believe everything people tell you. History is half fact... and half the version of reality that makes the people in power look good.”

Once again, Mo Xuanyu had no idea how to respond to that. So, he clung tightly to the few facts he did know to be true.

“The Body Offering Ritual was supposed to let you take over my body while my soul disappeared. That... didn’t happen.” Honestly, it was impressive how calm and composed he sounded, given the circumstances.

“Hmmm, that is a good question,” the ghost muttered, staring again at the array. After a few seconds of pondering, he just shrugged and said, far too cheerfully, “I have no idea!”

If he hadn’t been stuck inside his own mind, Mo Xuanyu would’ve stared at him in pure disbelief. “What do you mean you don’t know?! You said you were the Yiling Patriarch—he was a grandmaster in this kind of thing! You have to know!!!” Yeah—he might have started panicking. Just a little.

The thought of his soul vanishing didn’t scare him. Honestly, it would’ve been a relief. At last peace. No more pain. But the idea of being trapped inside his own body, powerless, while some man claiming to be the Yiling Patriarch walked around in it…

He had high hopes that this spirit would at least know what caused the ritual to go wrong—and that he’d fix it quickly. After all, he certainly didn’t want to share a body with someone like Mo Xuanyu.

“Aiyaaaa, not the yelling again! You’re talking to an old man here—ears aren’t what they used to be! Well, technically I’ve got your ears—and actually, that’s not even how I hear you—ugh, never mind! Don’t panic, I’ll figure it out sooner or later. Still, assuming I know everything just because I’m the best in this field—by the way, flattering that you think so—isn’t right. Do you think Yu the Great knew everything about building canals and dams? Well, I’m not old enough to remember him, but I’m sure he didn’t! He was a genius, but not all-knowing! And just like him, I can’t tell what went wrong with your array after a quick glance. I’ll need more time—and to get to know the circumstances better.”

Mo Xuanyu hesitated. It sounded absurd, inconsistent with everything he’d heard all his life, but...

“You’re... really Wei Wuxian? The Yiling Patriarch who slaughtered three thousand cultivators in the Nightless City and led an army of corpses?”

The quiet sigh didn’t stay in his thoughts—it slipped out of his mouth. “Yeaah, that’s me. No matter how much I’d like to deny it.”

Mo Xuanyu’s mind raced wildly. This was not how he’d imagined things would go. He was genuinely frustrated. And tired. Did the gods hate him that much that they wanted to complicate his life at every turn? He’d never done anything to anyone...

His life had always been utterly unfair. He watched Mo Ziyuan enjoying every possible privilege while giving absolutely nothing back to the world, except being a complete jerk and a spoiled brat. But Mo Ziyuan was born into a wealthy family, so his existence was accepted and even respected. His mother always told him not to compare himself to others, to appreciate the little things, and to not take the harm people did to him too much to heart. She was such a good person—free of hatred, no matter what, always searching for sparks of good in everything.

And she ended up dead.

Mo Xuanyu was not like her. He knew he couldn’t nurture those tiny bits of kindness inside himself like his mother did—bits that she received and grew from. She had really tried to give him the best, but unfortunately, he was raised like a less-than-pleasant toy in the hands of cruel children. An object not bad enough to throw away but not worth even a shred of sympathy. Ugly feelings constantly filled him, suppressed by his inability to express them. They fermented inside him, poisoning his view of the world and people. Sometimes it felt like hatred ran through his veins, feeding him and keeping him alive.

There had been a brief time—so short it barely counted—when Mo Xuanyu had thought maybe the world wasn’t all bad. That maybe there was a small place for him to live his life. Not a happy life, no, but one that was at least bearable… That maybe not everyone saw him as lower than a worm.

But Mo Xuanyu had long since given up those illusions. The only place he had in this world was under someone’s boot.

He was so tired of the ever-burning fury and the constant pain. He just wanted to take revenge on the people who had hurt him—and then feel nothing ever again. But clearly, that was too much to ask for, too.

“Where did you write down your wishes?” The voice of maybe-Wei-Wuxian-but-Mo-Xuanyu-wasn’t-entirely-sure cut through the spiral of his thoughts.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Your wishes. Desires. Commands. Call them whatever you like—the reasons you summoned me, basically.”

“Uhhh... was I supposed to write them down?”

“Of course you were! How could you not do that?! What if the ritual had worked correctly and your soul had actually left your body—how was I supposed to know what you wanted from me? I would’ve been stuck here with no instructions, except for these wounds!”

Only then did Mo Xuanyu remember the four small, narrow cuts on his right wrist—the ones he’d made for the ritual. The instructions said they would serve as targets for the summoned spirit. Only once the goals were fulfilled would the marks vanish, and the spirit would permanently become the new owner of the body. If it failed, its soul would be dispersed forever, never given a chance at reincarnation.

That much, Mo Xuanyu did know. But nowhere in his notes had it mentioned anything about writing down a physical list of objectives.

“Show me what you used to draw the array,” the ghost demanded.

His notes were buried in the far corner of the shed, hidden under a pile of straw—probably the only reason they’d survived the rampage of Mo Ziyuan’s men.

While Wei Wuxian (Mo Xuanyu had decided to believe him for now, at least until something proved otherwise) flipped through the pages, he muttered unintelligible things under his breath. Finally, he snorted and tossed the papers aside.

“Well, there it is! There’s a whole page missing on how to inform the ghost of the terms of their second life. You’re lucky that part was relatively minor in the grand scheme of the ritual. You could’ve ended up cursed by some very offended ghost!” He huffed, then added, “One more piece of advice, kid: Don’t perform rituals you aren’t one hundred percent sure about. Scratch that—don’t perform forbidden rituals at all. Though I think I already made that point pretty clear earlier.”

Once again, Mo Xuanyu felt like he was being scolded like a child—and the realization that it was his own oversight that messed up the ritual didn’t help his mood one bit. “I told you, I’m not a child, so stop calling me that!”

“If that’s the case,” the ghost replied, “then how about introducing yourself properly, hmm? That is basic etiquette when meeting someone—you share your name! But what does today’s youth even know about good manners anymore…”

“My name is Mo Xuanyu, old man.”

“Rude. Well, nice to meet you, Mo Xuanyu! I mean, it’d be nicer under different circumstances, but you know what they say, when you can’t have what you like, learn to like what you have, right? Hah!” He laughed to himself, then continued more thoughtfully, “Anyway, I think I know what went wrong in the ritual. You didn’t include the necessary section detailing the goals to be fulfilled, so the formation defaulted to the people you harbored the strongest negative emotions toward. But there still weren’t any specific instructions for what should happen to them. The wishes of the person offering their body serve as a kind of bridge—one that connects the summoned spirit to the host body. First the summoned soul crosses over, and then the original soul leaves. But because your ‘bridge’ was incomplete, your soul had no way to exit. And that’s how we ended up stuck here together—so you could personally share your dark desires with me! Pretty wild, huh?”

“So…” Mo Xuanyu hesitated, unsure if he was understanding this correctly. “You mean, once I tell you what I want from you, my soul will disappear?”

“Well, not exactly. The ritual’s already run its course, the bridge has closed. Your words probably won’t change anything now. I think it’s more likely that your soul will move on after I complete your wishes… But I can’t say for certain. I feel like there’s still a missing piece to this puzzle—something I haven’t figured out yet. For now, I need you to tell me either the circumstances of the ritual or your intended goals… Ideally both. So come on, kid—I’m listening.”

Suddenly, in the absence of Wei Wuxian’s constant babbling, everything went quiet. The only sound was a donkey outside the shed, munching on something.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know where to begin. He’d thought that once he summoned the Yiling Patriarch, the man would just know what to do. He hadn’t considered that he might have to explain it all himself.

He had never had a space where he could freely share his feelings. Who would he even tell? Who would not only believe him, but care enough to do something—and have the power to do so? No one like that had ever existed in his life. There had been his mother, of course… but she already had enough to deal with. She didn’t need to hear about his pain when there was nothing she could do to fix it. There was a time—once—when he had shared some of his experiences with him… But back then, he’d been foolishly happy, so hopeful. He hadn’t wanted to dwell too much on the past. He’d thought he was finally leaving it behind.

And still— the warmth, the care he’d been shown back then… the illusion of safety… and the way it shattered, how it cut through his heart like a jagged blade when the truth came out…

Mo Xuanyu wasn’t sure if he even knew how to talk about what he felt anymore. And really, did Wei Wuxian even care? He probably just wanted to get rid of him as fast as possible, to have the body to himself, unbothered.

Still, he tried to speak. “There are… people… bad people… who did a lot of awful things…” He winced. No one had ever accused him of being eloquent, but even by his standards, that sounded especially pathetic and stupid. He wondered if his cheeks could still burn with embarrassment despite not having control over his body.

He braced himself, waiting for Wei Wuxian to mock him or scoff or say something cutting—but to his surprise, the man only hummed softly and asked, gently, “Did they do those things to you?” There was no mockery in his voice, no disbelief. Just calm, quiet sympathy.

With a metaphorical lump in his throat, Mo Xuanyu gave a hesitant nod. Several seconds passed before he remembered he couldn’t actually move his head, so he formed the words instead—quiet, shaky, “Yeah…”

“I see,” Wei Wuxian murmured. A long silence followed. Wei Wuxian was probably waiting for him to elaborate, but Mo Xuanyu stayed quiet. “Listen, kid,” the man said at last, “The ritual didn’t set a strict timer for the goals. We don’t have to talk about it now if you’re not ready. A lot’s happened today, and I doubt the last few days were any better for you. So how about this—let’s take a breather. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in the world these days, hmm? What do you think?”

“…Alright,” Mo Xuanyu muttered. Somehow, the swirling storm of emotions that had been battering him for days—weeks, maybe longer—suddenly felt far away. The shame, the fury, the ever-tightening grief that had followed him since he was cast out of the Carp Tower like trash, branded a lunatic, a deviant, a disgrace… all of it receded, leaving only weariness and pain.

Maybe it was stupid and childish that something as small as a moment of gentleness and understanding could affect him so much. But Mo Xuanyu had been completely alone for nearly a year. When his mother died, he’d lost the only person who had ever loved him. It had been the worst year of his life. Death and revenge had been the only thoughts that kept him going.

And now—absurdly, impossibly—Wei Wuxian (Wei Wuxian! The Yiling Patriarch! The most feared criminal in cultivation history! The monster of legends and butcher of thousands!) was talking to him softly, offering comfort, refusing to push him into more pain.

It was completely insane.

Maybe… maybe his soul had left his body after all, and this was just some weird, afterlife dream. That would at least make all of this make a little more sense.

“Well then, chin up! I’m sure we’ll figure something out together, and everything will be just fine!” Wei Wuxian’s voice returned to its usual bright, carefree tone. He managed to get up and step out of the shed. It was the middle of an autumn day, and the sun hung high above them. The donkey, uninterested in any of the strange happenings, kept chewing on whatever it had found. “So tell me, Mo Xuanyu,” Wei Wuxian said with a grin, “how long has it been since the terrifying and terrible Yiling Patriarch kicked the bucket?”

“The siege of the Burial Mounds happened about thirteen years ago,” Mo Xuanyu answered.

Wei Wuxian immediately froze mid-step—and choked on absolutely nothing.

“Ohhh, okay. That’s… quite a bit of time,” Wei Wuxian said, blinking. There was a strange note in his voice, one that disappeared as quickly as it had come, like it had never been there at all. “I imagine a lot must’ve happened in the cultivation world since then, hah! You’ll have to catch me up on everything, kid!”

“I’m not—!”

“Yes, yes, I know, you’re not a kid. You’re a big, grown-up boy making big, grown-up decisions. Like summoning the most terrifying criminal to ever walk the world. Very responsible.”

Mo Xuanyu was definitely not blushing.

“I had my reasons!”

“I’m sure you did. Still, you do know that this could’ve ended very badly, right?”

“You’re repeating yourself, old man.”

“Hahaha, you’re soooo funny. Anyway, we should probably get out of here. As charming as this little shed is, I doubt we’ll accomplish much inside, especially now that it looks like a herd of angry pigs ran through it. By the way, who was that brat dressed like a rat attending a grand canal opening? He was babbling about taking things from you? He didn’t make the best first impression. Note to self, Mo Xuanyu, don’t start introductions with a kick. It rarely leads to lasting friendships.”

Mo Xuanyu snorted. “Obviously. And that jerk was Mo Ziyuan. My cousin.”

“Ahhh, family. Gotta love ‘em. Is he one of my targets?”

There was a slight pause before Mo Xuanyu could answer, and Wei Wuxian caught it immediately. “Hey, no pressure! You don’t have to tell me. I get it, family’s a messy topic.”

“No, it’s fine. Just… yeah. He’s one of them. The others are his servant and his parents.”

“Got it. Well then! Let’s go get acquainted with the lovely bunch, shall we? I have a feeling it’ll be a very memorable reunion.”

Mo Xuanyu wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about the idea, but, well… that wasn’t his decision anymore. He didn’t have control over this body now.

“But before we do that! I need to prepare myself for being you. So—tell me about yourself. Or at least how people expect you to act. I’d rather not have them screaming about possession or something like that, you know?”

Ugh. Another delightful topic. How did people see him? As a broken, deranged pervert with incestuous tendencies. No force in heaven or earth could make him say that out loud. Not even in his own mind.

Maybe… just maybe… he didn’t want Wei Wuxian to look at him like that. Was it foolish to care about the opinion of a dead man—a dead man infamous for being the Yiling Patriarch, the butcher of thousands, the terror of the cultivation world, etc.—whom he’d only just met? Maybe. But it was still his business.

And still, he had to say something.

"People say I’m crazy. Unstable. They expect the worst from me." Mo Xuanyu finally settled on those words. It felt like enough—barely—but he still braced himself, tense, waiting for the reaction of the man occupying his body.

"Are you crazy?" Wei Wuxian asked. And to Xuanyu’s surprise, it sounded like a genuine question. Honest. Not mocking.

It was… a good question.

"I don’t think so. But… there was this… incident, and… now people think I am." Even thinking about it made his throat close up. For once, he was grateful he no longer had full control over his body—at least tears couldn’t sting his eyes like they used to.

Wei Wuxian hummed quietly, a soft tune that didn’t seem to come from his mouth, but more from the soul within. "Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re crazy either. But… I know there are times when everything just gets too much. When you’re carrying so many things inside that you can’t anymore—and something breaks. And it feels like that break is all there is left of you."

The words struck Mo Xuanyu deep—right at the core of him. That was exactly how he’d felt after being thrown out of the Carp Tower. Like the entire world had shattered, like none of it was real anymore except the screaming inside his chest—and then everything just… snapped. He remembered nothing of that day. The incident, as he’d come to call it. His mother had refused to tell him what had happened. Everything he knew came from the horrified stares of villagers, the whispers behind his back, the sharp-edged laughter.

And after that, the label stuck. Madman. Freak. Lunatic. Nothing he did could ever change that now.

"So, what kind of crazy do they think you are?" Wei Wuxian asked, voice light but focused. "The screaming, kicking kind? The divine-prophet-touched-by-heaven type? Or the hears-voices-in-his-head brand? I need to know what sort of madness I’m meant to be playing."

"Eh… honestly? You could probably do whatever you want and they’d still think I’m insane. Doesn’t matter. Their minds are already made up."

"Ohoho? So you're giving me complete creative freedom in playing the lunatic?" Something in Wei Wuxian’s voice made Mo Xuanyu hesitate, like he’d just signed a contract with something he maybe shouldn’t have. It was stupid—Wei Wuxian didn’t seem the dangerous type, not in that way, at least. Probably just meant he’d say something weird and act a little silly.

Still, his voice wavered. "Um… I guess?"

"Wonderful!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed, delight dripping from every syllable. "Oh, Mo Xuanyu, we’re going to have so much fun together!" He burst into loud, carefree laughter.

Mo Xuanyu started to worry.

=+=

Mo Xuanyu should have started worrying a long time earlier. Preferably before he’d invited that lunatic into his body.

Had he said something about Wei Wuxian not seeming unhinged? He took it back. All of it. Every kind thought, every ounce of tentative trust—retracted. This man couldn’t be sane. Not by any definition.

Utterly helpless, Mo Xuanyu could only watch with mounting horror as Wei Wuxian plunged headfirst into his life—and proceeded to act like the most deranged lunatic to ever exist. Even the legends hadn’t prepared him for this.

As Wei Wuxian tore through town atop a donkey ("Hey, excuse you—this is no ordinary donkey! He has a name! It’s Little Apple!"), knocking over carts, upending stalls, and causing general chaos, Mo Xuanyu was struck with a single realization: people could definitely think even worse of him now.

"STOP!!!" he shouted with all the force his mental lungs could muster.

"Uhhh, not entirely sure how!" Wei Wuxian called back, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

"You started this, so you—"

"Hey, isn’t that that brat? Mo Zhihuan?"

Mo Xuanyu blinked. Sure enough, just across the road at a fabric stall, stood none other than his terrible cousin—Mo Ziyuan—along with A-Tong. They hadn’t noticed the incoming donkey-powered disaster just yet.

"Mo Ziyuan," Mo Xuanyu corrected.

"Hmm," Wei Wuxian hummed, and somehow even a mental hum sounded suspicious. "Maybe it’s time we added some excitement to his life, hmm?"

Without warning, he dug his heels into Little Apple’s sides and yanked the reins to the right. The donkey let out an ear-splitting bray and bolted, charging straight toward the stall.

"You said you didn’t know how to control him!"

"Wrong! I said I didn’t know how to stop him!"

"Uggghhh, I’m gonna puke—!"

"You can’t! You don’t control this body anymore, remember? Haha!"

"You are the worst!"

"Not the first time I’ve heard that!"

Whatever comeback Mo Xuanyu was about to fire off was lost as they slammed into the stall. Wood cracked, bolts of silk exploded into the air, and people screamed as they scattered in every direction. Mo Ziyuan and A-Tong barely dodged in time, and were now sprinting away like the hounds of demons were on their heels. Deep down—very deep down—Mo Xuanyu found the sight satisfying.

Somehow—somehow—Wei Wuxian managed to snatch a jar of liquor out of midair as it was flung upward by Little Apple’s reckless gallop... and not spill a single drop. With one impressive gulp, he drained the whole thing.

“Ahhhh, that’s the stuff! Thirteen years of enforced sobriety, and now even mediocre swill tastes almost as good as Emperor’s Smile!”

“What's the Emperor's Smile?”

“You’ve never heard of it?!” Wei Wuxian sounded genuinely offended. “Mo Xuanyu! My heart—my heart! We are going to fix that. You cannot just go through life not knowing about Emperor’s Smile! Gods, I hope they haven’t stopped brewing it while I was gone… That would be a true tragedy for mankind. Or—wait! Maybe someone created something better? No, impossible. You can’t beat perfection!”

Wei Wuxian kept chattering on and on, and Little Apple galloped onward, continuing his chaotic chase after the two terrified young men fleeing through the market.

Eventually, they arrived at the gates of Mo Manor. Mo Xuanyu had spent most of his life near the estate, but only on its fringes, tucked away in a remote corner with his mother, kept out of sight of the "real" family. He had rarely been allowed into the main compound—usually only to be screamed at or kicked. Often both. Really often.

The guards at the entrance looked completely stunned to see the Mo family’s heir charging toward them, screaming, while a donkey thundered after him. Still, they opened the gates out of sheer instinct, allowing the chaos to pour onto the main courtyard and toward the guest pavilion. Then they tried to stop Wei Wuxian and Little Apple.

But Wei Wuxian had no intention of letting the fun end just yet. With a manic laugh, he leapt off Little Apple’s back mid-run, narrowly dodging the first attempt to tackle him. Half the guards immediately gave chase, while the others attempted—futilely—to wrangle the frenzied donkey. If Mo Xuanyu hadn’t been utterly stunned by the absurdity unfolding before his eyes, he might have taken a moment to marvel at how fast and agile his body had suddenly become under Wei Wuxian’s control.

“What do you even think you’re doing?!” Mo Xuanyu shrieked internally. “Now they’re definitely going to tie me to a pole and gag me, and honestly, I wouldn’t even blame them!”

“Aiyaaa, relax, Mo Xuanyu!” Wei Wuxian chuckled. “You think I’d let them catch us? Please, I am the Yiling Patriarch, after all! Besides, thirteen years of ghostly dormancy stiffens the joints—gotta loosen up somehow! And if we cause a bit of mayhem in the process, what’s the harm? Nothing bad will happen to us!”

At that very moment, Wei Wuxian attempted to dash into the main pavilion, but he didn’t see the tall threshold. His foot caught on it, and he tripped—pitching forward toward the floor, face-first. He would’ve gone down hard, if not for the strong arm that caught him mid-fall.

When Wei Wuxian lifted his head, he found several pairs of eyes staring right at him.

Madame Mo was cradling a sobbing Mo Ziyuan, shooting Mo Xuanyu a look so sharp it could've buried him six feet under on the spot. The sheer height difference between the mother and her son in this dramatic pose only made the whole scene more ridiculous.

On the other hand, two young cultivators dressed in white were watching the newcomer with open-mouthed astonishment. They looked impeccably put together—no dirt on their robes or forehead ribbons, not a hair out of place. And, as Mo Xuanyu realized, one of them was the one who’d caught him.

Gusu Lan, he thought, stunned. Right—he had heard something about resentful corpses showing up near the village. He’d expected a minor sect to investigate—not one of the Great Clans. Then again, the Lans had a reputation for sticking their noble noses into every moral duty that presented itself, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising.

His thoughts were cut off by an earsplitting squeal of joy. He flinched, reflexively trying to locate the source of the noise—until he realized he was the only one who had heard it. It was coming from inside his own skull.

“Is everything alrigh—?”

“LITTLE LANSSSSS!!!”

For the first time, Mo Xuanyu truly understood what Wei Wuxian meant when he complained about how loud someone’s thoughts could be. He was pretty sure a few more seconds of that and he’d lose his hearing.

The fearsome and terrifying Yiling Patriarch—scourge of the cultivation world, heretic, mass murderer, snatcher of maidens, devourer of infants—beamed so widely Mo Xuanyu thought his jaw might dislocate from sympathetic pain. And then he lunged toward the nearest Lan.

The poor boy barely had time to squeak before they were nose-to-nose—barely a thumb’s length apart. Wei Wuxian was grinning like a madman, his painted face gleaming, fully reflected in the shocked wideness of the boy’s eyes.

“Handsome cultivator! Are you the one who stole my belongings?!”

“Get your hands off me, freak!”

“Guards! GUARDS! Someone remove this lunatic!”

“Everyone, please, let’s remain calm and—”

“Mother! Mother, he’s harassing me! Do something!”

If Mo Xuanyu could, he would’ve buried his face in both hands.

Dear heavens, he thought, what kind of catastrophic force have I unleashed upon this world?

Chapter Text

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Fun?! You threatened Mo Ziyuan you’d cut off his hand!”

“Hahaha, yeah, that part was so funny. Did you see his face? I’m pretty sure he pissed himself in fear!”

Wei Wuxian was kneeling by a small pond, wiping the makeup off his—well, technically Mo Xuanyu’s face.

Mo Xuanyu still couldn’t quite believe what he had just witnessed. The Yiling Patriarch, riding a donkey, climbing the columns in guest pavillon, throwing himself at cultivators, and threatening Madame Mo and Mo Ziyuan like a lunatic. It all sounded like some kind of drunken fever dream.

And yet, here they were. And all the consequences of this absolute madness were going to fall squarely on Mo Xuanyu’s shoulders. Wonderful.

He cursed the damn ritual for the hundredth time. Why the hell had he even done it?!

“Oh, come on! Don’t panic!” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully. “Wasn’t this what you wanted? Me exacting vengeance on your behalf?”

“Yeah, but in my mind, the revenge involved more blood and begging for mercy, and a lot less clownery and making me look even more insane than they already thought I was!”

“Well, then you summoned the wrong ghost! I’m one of the polite ones.”

Wei Wuxian finally finished scrubbing off the last traces of makeup and took a good look at his reflection. “Hey, you’re not bad-looking! Actually, I’d say you’re quite easy on the eyes. Why hide that pretty face behind a terrifying mask?”

“None of your business,” Mo Xuanyu snapped, having zero interest in explaining that to him.

Painting each other’s faces had been one of the very few happy memories he had with his mother. In the evenings, when there was nothing left to do, they’d sit in their little room and make silly designs on each other’s faces, admiring their work in a scrap of polished metal. It always ended in laughter. He used to go overboard with colors on the beautiful face of his mother, but what he really loved was when she would cup his cheeks so gently and paint monsters masks on his face—then he’d chase her around the room, growling, and she’d laugh and laugh like the world outside didn’t exist.

He missed it desperately. Sometimes, when he was alone in the shed, he’d close his eyes and paint on his face in silence, imagining her touch, her soft voice, her laughter.

The results weren’t exactly works of art—doing makeup blind never ended well—but it wasn’t about how it looked. No one else would understand anyway.

There was a brief silence, and then Wei Wuxian said softly, voice suddenly full of that unbearable warmth and gentleness that made Xuanyu’s chest ache. “Mo Xuanyu… I can only imagine what you’ve been through. And being stuck in a body with me, of all people, probably wasn’t high on your wish list. But I just want you to know… if you ever feel like talking, I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” he chuckled. “Despite all my rambling, I’m actually a very good listener.”

Mo Xuanyu wondered distantly whether he could ever get used to someone offering him kindness so openly, without making him feel even smaller or more exhausted. He doubted it.

He definitely didn’t want to dive into all that aching emotion. Not now. “I—umm… Thanks. I appreciate it. I guess. But maybe… not right now? I mean, there are corpses and everything and this just doesn’t feel like the time…”

"Ahhh, right! The corpses! Thank you for reminding me, Mo Xuanyu. Have you heard anything about them? I didn’t get many details."

Mo Xuanyu sighed in relief at the change of topic. “For the past few days, fierce corpses have been appearing behind the village, on the mountain. Some of them have even managed to reach the edge of the village. Honestly, I don’t know much else. Cultivators were summoned to handle it.”

Wei Wuxian let out a bright laugh at his last sentence. “Ahh yes, cultivators! Who would’ve guessed—junior Lans! Did you see them? All serious and adorable in those snow-white robes, the least practical garments anyone has ever stitched together!”

“Kind of hard to miss them, even without you yelling at the top of your lungs. One of them literally caught you mid-fall.”

“Ah, yes. The legendary Lan arm strength. Seriously, what do they do to get muscles like that? It shouldn’t be legal. Especially paired with those unfairly perfect faces…”

Mo Xuanyu listened to all this in utter disbelief. If he could, he’d have rubbed his ears to make sure he’d heard right. “And I’m the one they call a pervert…”

“Hey, hey! No perverts here! I’m simply appreciating objective beauty, which is entirely respectable, thank you very much. But,” he added, finally sounding a bit more serious, “their presence might cause us a little trouble. They’re juniors, which means there's probably a senior cultivator with them. And I’d really rather not run into anyone who remembers me. That could make for an... unpleasant reunion. The Lan sect always held a very specific kind of disdain for me. The deep, righteous, thoroughly judgmental kind.”

Mo Xuanyu frowned. That felt... strange. Not that it was odd for the GusuLan to hate the Yiling Patriarch— everyone hated him. But the way Wei Wuxian talked about them was completely at odds with that expectation. There was a softness in his tone, a quiet fondness that clung to his words like a half-smile clinging to his lips. It wasn’t how you’d expect someone to talk about people who’d helped lead to your death. Not from the man who supposedly loathed the entire cultivation world.

It was all so bizarre. The Wei Wuxian from fear-whispered stories, and the Wei Wuxian now inhabiting his body, seemed like two completely different people sharing only a name. Was he being deceived? Was the Yiling Patriarch pretending to be harmless, goofy, and kind just to gain his trust? But to what end?

It wouldn’t be the first time Mo Xuanyu had fallen for someone’s act—been lured in by a facade of kindness. But still... this felt different. In Carp Tower, with that man, it had seemed beautiful—too perfect, as it turned out. If he hadn’t been so blinded by the fantasy, he was sure he would have smelled the rot behind every sweet word.

But Wei Wuxian... didn’t seem calculating or fake. He acted however he pleased, with no concern for decorum or how he might be perceived. And yet, he hadn’t once tried to hurt him. His teasing didn’t sting, it soothed. It didn’t feel like being mocked—it felt like being included.

Still… maybe Mo Xuanyu was just a fool, walking right into the same trap a second time. Who could say?

He must have gotten so lost in thought that he’d completely spaced out—one moment he was sitting by the pond, and the next, he found himself on the roof of Mo Estate. Wei Wuxian’s voice, full of astonishment, pulled him back to awareness.

“What the hell are spirit-attracting flags doing up here?!”

Mo Xuanyu blinked and realized he was, in fact, holding one of the flags in his hand. The Lan cultivators must’ve set them up earlier, preparing Mo Manor for the night.

“It’s nothing unusual. They’re commonly used for night hunts like this,” he explained. He wasn’t sure if Wei Wuxian had died before they became widespread, which would explain his surprise. Years ago, they were difficult to obtain and only used in the most dangerous hunts. “They attract resentful energy. Super useful, really—makes the hunt easier since the creature comes to you, instead of the other way aroun—”

“I know how they work, for heaven’s sake! But what do you mean ‘commonly used’?!”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t understand the sudden sharpness in his voice. “Exactly what I said. LanlingJin has been mass-producing them for years now. Every cultivator brings them along for a night hunt.”

Wei Wuxian examined the flag a moment longer, then let out a bitter, scoffing laugh that sounded entirely out of place coming from him. “Why am I even surprised anymore? Of course those bastards wouldn’t miss a chance to make their lives easier—even if it meant using my inventions!”

“Wait—you made these?!” Mo Xuanyu all but shouted. What?! Why would the sects use something created by the Yiling Patriarch?! They hated everything about him!

“Who else? But of course, no one bothered to mention that to the younger generation. Over a decade has passed, and they’re still the same. Let me guess, they’re probably selling my compasses of ill winds at every damn street market now, too?” He chuckled dryly, clearly not expecting an answer.

Unfortunately for him, Mo Xuanyu had one. “Umm… I’m pretty sure it’s not that common, but I don’t think it’s hard to find, either.”

“…What.”  That was the only response for several long seconds. “Wait, wait, wait—you’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking. I didn’t even get around to making a final version! I stopped at a barely functional prototype!”

Mo Xuanyu had no answer for that. He could only shrug, mentally, with a helpless sort of silence.

A heavy pause settled between them—thick with disbelief and the weight of those freshly unearthed facts.

Could Wei Wuxian be lying? Yes, of course he could. But… why would he? What would he gain from it? Besides, he sounded sincere—his shock, the swell of bitter emotions, the frustration in his voice... none of it seemed fake. Maybe the only silver lining of their current shared-body situation was how hard it was for them to hide anything from one another. Every thought, every pulse of emotion—laid bare. It was deeply uncomfortable... and yet, right now, oddly helpful.

At first, Mo Xuanyu had been shocked, but the longer he thought about it—about the way so many sect leaders approached things—it wasn’t really that surprising anymore. Spirit-attracting flags and compasses of ill winds  were undeniably useful tools that made night hunts much easier. Letting them go to waste would’ve been a shame. And their creator... well, he was dead, wasn’t he? He couldn’t exactly file a complaint. No need to mention him at all.

After everything with his father and cultivators in general—especially those from the Jin Sect, though not exclusively—his opinion of them had never been high. And now, it sank even lower. Preaching about the evil of the Yiling Patriarch and his foul arts, all while using those exact same “arts”? Absolute hypocrisy.

“Hey! Hands off, psycho!”  A sudden shout tore through their shared thoughts. One of the Lan juniors—the same one who’d caught them earlier and been on the receiving end of Wei Wuxian’s... memorable first impression (Mo Xuanyu winced internally at the memory) —was running toward them across the roof.

“Ai ai ai, I’m just admiring the flag! It’s so pretty!” In an instant, the Yiling Patriarch abandoned all prior bitterness and beamed. Mo Xuanyu wasn’t even sure if his face had ever stretched into such a wide smile before the ritual.

The Lan junior huffed and snatched the flag out of his hands. “This isn’t a toy, it’s a dangerous tool for summoning spirits! Are you trying to get yourself killed? You shouldn’t even be up here, you lunatic!” He continued fuming as he re-secured the flag in its place.

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t help but reflect on how lately, his entire existence seemed to revolve around getting scolded and being told that everything he did was potentially fatal. But hey—at least this time, it wasn’t even his fault!

“Jingyi, calm down. No need to get so worked up.” Another voice joined the conversation, this one much more composed. It was the second Lan cultivator—the one who’d also witnessed the earlier chaos. He looked like... well, a Lan. There wasn’t much more to say. They all had that same pristine, elegant, slightly unapproachable aesthetic.

The boy turned to them and offered a respectful bow. It might’ve been the first time anyone had bowed to Mo Xuanyu, especially someone of such obvious status. “Young Master Mo, we ask that you refrain from touching the flags. With the right bait, they can attract hostile entities from the surrounding area. Once night falls, it will become extremely dangerous here. I recommend staying in a safe place until morning.”

“Why does everyone assume I don’t know how my own invention works?” Wei Wuxian grumbled mentally.

Lan Jingyi—clearly the more hot-headed one—snorted at his companion. “I don’t know why you bother explaining anything, Sizhui. It’s obvious he’s insane. Nothing gets through to him!”

“Excuse me! I do understand, thank you very much! No touching the flags, don’t run around after dark—got it, pretty cultivators!” Wei Wuxian chirped, and for some utterly unfathomable reason, stuck his tongue out at them before spinning on his heel and bolting off with a delighted giggle.

Behind them, Mo Xuanyu could still hear Jingyi’s exasperated snort and the soft, amused laughter of the other Lan cultivator as they jumped down from the rooftop.

“Okay, and what exactly was that for?”

“What do you mean?” The fake innocence in Wei Wuxian’s voice was revolting .

“You know what I mean!”

“Aiya, Mo Xuanyu, don’t you ever do anything just for fun? It was harmless mischief! Did you see their faces? I already like those boys. Such a funny contrast in personalities! Lan cultivators are so funny…”

“Mischief is for children. Not decrepit old men.”

“Decrepit? Excuse you! I am not decrepit. I’m in the prime of youth right now—thanks to your body, mind you!” Wei Wuxian huffed dramatically. “Besides, one is never too old for a bit of fun. The world’s dreary enough as it is—you have to hold onto a bit of childlike joy if you want to survive it.” He let out a satisfied sigh. “Ahhh, I haven’t felt this light in years. It’s nice to cause a little trouble now and then. You should try it sometime.”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t dignify that with a response. ‘ Mischief ’ huh? That had never been something he had the luxury to enjoy. Not when his life had been anything but playful.

Instead, he asked flatly, “What are we doing now?”

“Well, we wait until nightfall. I’ve got a feeling that tonight’s going to be eventful!”

=+=

"Are you some kind of prophet or something?" Mo Xuanyu asked weakly as they watched from the sidelines, observing the Lan cultivators struggle against the corpse of Madame Mo—now possessed by that terrifying severed hand.

Yes, a lot had happened. And the night wasn't even over yet.

"Well, no, I just have good instincts."

Watching the people you’d spent your whole life hating die one by one in a matter of hours, turn into the fierce corpses, and then engage in a battle with cultivators while possessed by a demonic arm... was surreal, to put it lightly. Mo Xuanyu wasn’t sure it had fully hit him yet that his tormentors were just—gone.

He was now the last surviving member of the Mo family.  He had no idea how to feel about that.

Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian was watching the fighting juniors closely, and Mo Xuanyu could feel the rising tension within him.

"They need a help. They won’t hold much longer."

"Then do something! Can’t you control those corpses again?"

"I could," Wei Wuxian admitted, "but that would put us at serious risk of exposure—and trust me, the last people you want to be exposed to as a demonic cultivator are the GusuLan. They loathe this kind of thing."

"They’re worse than the Jiang sect leader?" Everyone had heard of Sandu Shengshou’s infamous hatred for anything even remotely connected to demonic cultivation.

"Huh? Jiang Cheng? What does he—"

Suddenly, a single harmonious string note rang out through the courtyard—and everything stopped. Literally. It was as if time itself had paused. The possessed corpse of Madame Mo froze mid-motion, encircled by a glowing blue ring of spiritual energy. More notes followed, each one flowing like ripples through the air.

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi—exhausted and no longer the picture of pristine elegance—looked up in stunned relief. "Hanguang-Jun!" they shouted in unison.

Mo Xuanyu’s head snapped up so fast something cracked in his neck.

Hovering above them was the most otherworldly man he had ever seen. He stood atop a sword, guqin in hand. White robes and forehead ribbon fluttered in the night wind. Even from this distance, the glint of golden eyes in that pale, impassive face was unmistakable. It wasn’t hard to see why they called him the Light-Bearer. He seemed to radiate with a quiet, inner glow.

Hanguang-Jun gave a short nod to the juniors before turning his full attention to the guqin in his hands. The moment his fingers touched the strings, the entire courtyard was filled with ethereal sound, clear and commanding.

Mo Xuanyu was entranced . There was a reason the Lan sect took such pride in their music cultivation. Damn, if he were some resentful creature crawling with dark energy, he’d gladly throw himself into their net if it meant listening to this melody for just a moment longer. Whatever they’d do to him afterward would be worth it .

Which reminded him that, technically, he was currently on the list of things the GusuLan weren’t especially fond of—according to Wei Wuxian. And maybe, just maybe , it would be smart to leave before anyone started questioning where those other fierce corpses had come from.

Yes. Now was a perfect time to disappear, while everyone was distracted by Hanguang-Jun and the demonic hand. Only… his body wouldn’t move.

“Umm, Wei Wuxian?”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian whispered aloud, not in his mind. Great. Hadn’t he been the one saying they needed to avoid detection by the Lans? And now here he was, not even hiding anymore, staring at Hanguang-Jun like he’d just descended from the heavens wrapped in moonlight.

And Mo Xuanyu was supposed to be the irresponsible one?!

“WEI WUXIAN!!!”

That did the trick.

Wei Wuxian jumped, startled, then finally snapped out of it. Without another word, he spun on his heel and bolted toward the back of the estate, where they'd left Little Apple.

“Oh heavens! Did you see him, Mo Xuanyu? Lan Zhan!”

He assumed that must’ve been Hanguang-Jun’s birth name. Why was Wei Wuxian using it so familiarly? And more importantly—why did he look so utterly shaken by just seeing him again?

“Hard not to…” Mo Xuanyu muttered.

And then… hell began .

“Gods above, how did that man get even more handsome over the years?! That shouldn’t be possible! He was always perfect, but this? I wasn’t ready for fully grown-up Lan Zhan! There’s no trace of that youthful softness—he’s all mature now. A full-grown man! And so, so beautiful… I’m telling you, Mo Xuanyu, he’s taller, broader than he was thirteen years ago. I swear I caught his scent—he still smells like sandalwood, it’s intoxicating! He’s changed his robes too—he looks like a proper senior cultivator now! And his face! Sharp and elegant as ever, and time only made it better. But why am I surprised? Of course Lan Zhan is the kind of person who gets only even more beautiful with age. Of course he is…”

Mo Xuanyu could only listen in stunned disbelief as the man who supposedly terrorized the cultivation world waxed poetic about Hanguang-Jun’s cheekbone structure.

He used to thought Wei Wuxian was obsessed with the Lan juniors. Oh, how naive and blissfully unaware he’d been…

=+=

“…they must be as soft as silk. Under normal circumstances, I’d say anyone with hair that perfect must be using a ton of expensive care products, but this is Lan Zhan we’re talking about. I’m convinced he doesn’t do anything at all and they’re just naturally flawless, just like the rest of him! Ohhh, did I mention his hands?! Truly, his hands—”

“Please. Stop.” Mo Xuanyu begged— honestly begged—more sincerely and desperately than he probably ever had in his life. Not even at Carp Tower had he pleaded like this. That said enough.

They’d put some distance between themselves and the Mo Village, riding on Little Apple, and now they were camped out by a small fire, munching on apples (Little Apple was munching on apples—he’d nearly bitten off Wei Wuxian’s hand when he tried to take one) and a rabbit Wei Wuxian had caught.

And through all of it, Mo Xuanyu had been forced to endure the relentless ramblings about Hanguang-Jun, and he was close to the breaking point. How much could one man possibly say about another man’s looks?!

“No one—absolutely NO ONE—wants to hear this, and especially not me.” Yes, Hanguang-Jun was handsome. That was a fact as undeniable as the sun rising in the east or the sky being blue. Even if he didn’t find men attractive, he would have noticed. But that didn’t mean he suddenly had the urge to recite poetry about the man’s beauty—unlike a certain someone who was currently inhabiting his body… “Honestly, I can't believe no one ever mentioned that the Yiling Patriarch was madly in love with Hanguang-Jun...” he muttered, half from exhaustion, half from exasperation.

He wasn’t prepared for the high-pitched squeak that suddenly echoed through his mind. Wei Wuxian squeaked . Like a flustered maiden in a romance tale.

“IN LOVE?! Me?! In love?! With HIM?!” Wei Wuxian shrieked, his voice cracking with something like panic. He laughed—loud and nervous, so very unlike himself. “Can you even imagine? The Yiling Patriarch in love with Hanguang-Jun, Second Jade of Lan?! That’s absurd! Hahaha, what a joke… You’re surprisingly funny, kid. But be careful! If Lan Zhan ever found out you were spreading such ridiculously stupid rumors, he definitely wouldn’t be pleased! Haha…” There was something off in that last laugh. A sharp, quiet sadness that wasn’t there before.

Mo Xuanyu sat in stunned silence.

He hadn’t even meant anything serious with that remark. It was an off-hand, sarcastic jab—nothing more. He’d expected a scoff, maybe a flat denial. But this ? This didn’t deny anything. If anything, it confirmed it.

Wei Wuxian… really had feelings for Hanguang-Jun?

The Yiling Patriarch was… a cut sleeve ?

But they hated each other! That was what everyone said. At Carp Tower, in every historical retelling of the Sunshot Campaign, they were called natural-born enemies. Their teacher had said they were like fire and ice, constantly clashing when Wei Wuxian was still allied with the Great Sects. And after that—well, the hatred only intensified!

How did that line up with the Yiling Patriarch who currently lived in his head, so clearly stupidly in love with Hanguang-Jun?

“Anyway!” Wei Wuxian suddenly shouted aloud, clapping his hands together with such force that even Little Apple jerked his head up in surprise. “We should now—”

“No, wait. What is this, all of this?” Mo Xuanyu interrupted him.

“Hmmm? What do you mean?”

“You! Why are you like this?!”

“Uhh… Like what?” Wei Wuxian sounded genuinely confused.

“Like that! Always laughing, joking around, making fun of me, asking how I’m doing, being nice, talking kindly about people you’re supposed to hate, inventing tools that every cultivator uses today, being into Hanguang-Jun—”

“I’m NOT into—”

“—you don’t crave murder, you’re not consumed by resentful energy, you… you’re nothing like what everyone says about you!” There it was. The source of Mo Xuanyu’s frustration. Everyone had heard of the Yiling Patriarch. Kids were scared into obedience with his name. If something bad happened in a remote village? Must be his lingering curse—even though he’d been dead for years . He was a warning, a ghost story, a textbook example of what happens when you stray from the righteous path.

There were certain unshakable truths Mo Xuanyu had built his entire worldview on. Life is unfair, people are cruel, his mother was the most wonderful person in the world and the Yiling Patriarch was evil incarnate.

Now? One of those pillars was crumbling .

And he couldn’t forget—right from the beginning, when they’d first met, Wei Wuxian had asked if he was okay. And when it was clear that topic hurt, he hadn’t pushed. He’d even tried to distract him. And they’d been complete strangers .

Wei Wuxian didn’t speak for a long while after that. He stared into the fire in silence. Even Little Apple, perhaps sensing the gravity of the moment, paused his apple-feast to simply observe.

“I told you already, Mo Xuanyu,” Wei Wuxian said finally, voice low. “Don’t believe everything people say. It’s a messy blend of truth and lies, impossible to untangle without context.”

He stole one of Little Apple’s apples and took a bite—miraculously not losing a hand this time.

“But… I don’t understand,” Mo Xuanyu whispered. “Then what is a lie?”

Wei Wuxian gave a dry, weary chuckle.

“Ahhh… If I started pointing out everywhere the ‘official version’ diverges from reality, we’d be sitting here all day and all night. Probably longer.” Then, with a sudden sharpness, his tone shifted. “But listen—don’t go thinking everything they say about me is a lie. Even if you looked only at the things I actually did, I probably still deserved the ending I got. I didn’t handle my life particularly well. The rumors, the accusations—they didn’t sprout from nothing. I gave them plenty of fertile ground to take root in and I watered them myself. They didn’t call me a monster for no reason.”

Mo Xuanyu sat in silence, turning over Wei Wuxian’s words in his mind. There was a strange weight to them—firm, steady, and painfully honest. 

He’d only known him for a single day, but maybe because of the whole sharing-one-body situation, he felt like he understood him far better than he should have. Not his history or past deeds or reputation, but something more real—who he was . And every word, every act so far had spoken far louder than the rumors.

“There were a lot of monsters in my life,” Mo Xuanyu began quietly, unsure why he was even speaking, or where the words were going. “Different kinds. Most of them had good reputations. People respected them. Some of them hurt me and my mother gladly and openly. Others didn’t care enough to even think about us. There was never anything I could do except drown in this growing hatred for a world that never made anything easier for us.”

“I’m truly sorry you and your mom had to go through that,” Wei Wuxian said sincerely, though clearly caught off guard by the shift in tone.

“What I mean is… Every one of those people painted me as a burden and painted themselves as heros—propped up by status and fake kindness. The rest of the world just looked away, because helping was inconvenient.” He paused to take a breath, then continued with rising frustration. “And then you show up—the Yiling Patriarch, the literal boogeyman, the star of every terrifying story—and you’re the first person outside of my mother to ask if I was okay. Even when I was a stranger! How the hell does that work? Who’s the good guy here, and who’s the bad one?”

He was exhausted—by the words, by the truth of them, by how much it hurt to say all that out loud (well, loud in his mind). He had never said this much about himself to anyone . And hearing it all laid out, it sounded… miserable. Absurd. But it was real.

And maybe, just maybe—there was only one explanation for all of it.

“…Is it me?” he asked quietly. “Was something just wrong with me from the start? Was I always broken? Maybe I never deserved kindness from anyone—except the Yiling patriarch, apparently.”

There was a pause. And then—

 “No.” 

That single word was so clear, so steady, that it made Mo Xuanyu sit up straight, even if only mentally. It wasn’t loud, but it rang with something unshakable. “You deserve everything good in this world,” Wei Wuxian said firmly. “Your life is worth just as much as anyone else’s. You were never the problem, Mo Xuanyu. Not because of who you are. People who hurt others—especially those in power—hate admitting it’s their fault. So they blame the victim. They’ll point at every little thing and twist it into a ‘reason’ to justify cruelty. But it’s all bullshit. Total, utter bullshit. The truth is—they often go unpunished. And the ones they hurt are the ones left bleeding.”

Mo Xuanyu swallowed. His voice was quiet again. “So what should you do about it?”

Wei Wuxian gave a bitter laugh. “You’re asking the wrong person. Remember? I ended up dead.” He sighed. “Fight. In whatever ways you can. You can’t save everyone, but you can try to win the battles in front of you.”

It wasn’t what Mo Xuanyu wanted to hear. “That’s… a shitty solution, to be honest.”

“Yup.” Wei Wuxian didn’t even try to argue. “But it’s the only one I’ve got so far.”

“And we did establish that it ended real well for you...”

This time, Wei Wuxian’s laugh was lighter and brighter. “Haha, true enough. But hey, do you know what we can do, Mo Xuanyu? Celebrate small victories. Look at you—all your wishes came true!”

Really, there were no wounds on his wrist anymore, only fresh, fair skin. Skin, now sticky with apple juice from Wei Wuxian’s apple. This fact had caught Little Apple’s attention; the donkey was now licking his hand (thankfully not biting it).

“How do you feel about it? That they’re dead now?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he replied truthfully. “I guess… I never really believed it would happen. You know, they were always part of my life. They felt eternal. It's strange that they’re just… gone.”

“I get it completely,” Wei Wuxian nodded. “But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. And hey, sorry it didn’t turn out as brutal and gory as you probably hoped. It was a pretty quick death, all things considered.”

“No, it’s… fine, I think.” And he really did mean it. He wasn’t disappointed that those bastards had ended up as walking corpses—it somehow felt fitting. Maybe, if someone had asked him a week ago, he would have demanded their heads on pikes. But a lot had changed since then.

“I’m glad. Plus, now you’re completely free! No more obligations or chains holding you down. That might feel a little scary at first, but I promise, it’s the start of something better. So, tell me—what do you want to do with your life?”

“Umm.” That was a difficult question. He didn’t know. His only sense of purpose up to now had been to offer his body to the Yiling Patriarch for revenge. After that? There wasn’t supposed to be anything after that. “I don’t know. I don’t really have anything I could pursue. The only direction I ever trained in was cultivation, but…”

“Wait, you’re a cultivator?!” Wei Wuxian cut in, clearly shocked.

Mo Xuanyu frowned. “Look, I know my core isn’t very strong, but that reaction’s a little much, don’t you think…?”

Apparently not even listening to him, Wei Wuxian placed a hand on his abdomen, trying to feel the golden core. It was weak, small. Ordinary cultivation had never come easily to Mo Xuanyu—most Lanling students mocked him for it. Even younger children progressed faster because they’d started forming their cores earlier. Resentful energy had always felt more accessible, more responsive.

“Heavens… a golden core…” Wei Wuxian whispered—and then burst into wild laughter, laughing so hard that tears streamed from his eyes.

Right. Maybe the cultivation world wasn’t completely wrong calling him insane, Mo Xuanyu thought.

“What’s happening to you?” he asked, slightly concerned. Was something wrong with his core?

“Ahhh, nothing, nothing,” Wei Wuxian wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “Don’t mind me. I just… I didn’t realize you had one… No, I’m not trying to insult you! It’s not the strongest, sure, but it’s not terrible either. Honestly, I’ve just missed the feeling of energy flowing through meridians after all these years…”

Mo Xuanyu snorted but decided not to be offended. It wasn’t the weirdest thing Wei Wuxian had said or done today.

“But hey, if you’re a cultivator, does that mean you trained in a sect?”

Ughhh, a very uncomfortable question. He would’ve preferred that time period had never existed.

"Yeeeah," he said reluctantly. "In LanlingJin."

"Ah, interesting. How did you end up there? Are you related to them somehow?"

"Unfortunately." Despite his reluctance, he found that talking about his past wasn’t as painful as it used to be. The earlier conversations must have chipped away at some of his barriers. Still, there was a bitter taste to the memories. "My father."

"Do I know him?"

"Definitely. Though you’d probably prefer to not. Everyone’s heard of that whore. It’s Jin Guangshan."

Wei Wuxian was momentarily speechless. “Oh shit. Didn’t see that one coming. How many kids did that man even have…” he muttered, tossing an apple in his hand. Little Apple didn’t take his eyes off the fruit. “I think you’ve won the prize for worst possible father. My condolences.”

"Thanks. Anyway, he left my mother when I was four, and then ten years later remembered I existed and invited me to start cultivating and join the sect. I spent some time there and… let’s just say it didn’t end well." The understatement of the century.

“Mhmm. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but honestly, I’m not. I have very low expectations for most people in that sect, not to mention him.” Wei Wuxian sighed deeply.

Meanwhile, Little Apple had laid down next to him. Wei Wuxian did something worthy of a proper masochist—he placed the hand not holding the apple on the donkey’s head. When nothing happened, he started scratching him like a dog.

Mo Xuanyu stared at the scene, astonished. "Wow. He actually lets you pet him. I’m impressed."

"Of course he does. He likes me." Then he said out loud, "Right, LittleApple? The three of us are friends now!"

"You know he doesn’t know there are two of us, right?"

"Pfff, details!"

That was exactly the moment the donkey chose to jerk forward. Wei Wuxian just barely managed to yank his hand back in time to avoid getting bitten. Startled, the apple in his other hand dropped to the grass. The donkey, very pleased with himself, began eating it.

"Little Apple! You traitor!"