Chapter Text
Lan Sizhui thinks he sees or hears ghosts sometimes.
A stray laughter here, the image of an old woman’s hunched back, before disappearing when he takes a closer look. He would think he was haunted, but he lives in Cloud Recesses, a place with so many protective wards that not even an immortal God could easily pierce through.
Still, he sees glimpses of the old woman, some blurry-faced men and women, and they follow him, even outside of his home. No one else sees them. He asked once, and all he got was Jingyi’s panicked look.
“Stop trying to scare me!” Jingyi huffs at him after making sure for the third time that there wasn’t an old woman trailing behind them.
“I’m not,” Sizhui sighs. Anyway, the old woman is gone, and Sizhui, instead of feeling relieved, feels only bereft.
It was only after Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji told him of his past as a Wen that Lan Sizhui understood. He is not haunted by ghosts, but by memories he can’t remember.
“Oh,” Sizhui exhales when the next time he sees these ‘ghosts’, they are a little clearer, and there are sad smiles on their faces. He reaches a hand out, but they disappear like they always do.
The heavy feeling in his chest feels a lot like heartbreak.
Jin Ling has never had parents.
He has had an angry uncle, a scheming uncle, a crazy uncle, and a lecherous grandfather. It may be unfilial to think that of his family, but it was the truth, and the truth is what his Clan and Sect desperately need right now after years of backstabbing and betrayals.
He does not have parents, and he never remembered having them, so how can you miss having something you never had? But sometimes he looks at how Ouyang Zizhen’s mother dotes on him as his father awkwardly asks after his health and Jin Ling-
Jin Ling has never had a mother and father before. Not that he can remember anyway. He doesn’t know how to miss them, but sometimes, he looks at paintings of his parents, his mother’s kind eyes, and his father’s proud face-
He doesn’t know who they are, but he wants them too.
He wants his parents to be alive and be with him, too.
It starts as it always does, with a joint night hunt with the other cultivation sects.
Jin Ling is a Sect Leader now, so he actually shouldn’t be participating in these little excursions anymore, but his Uncle Jiang knows the value of being with his peers, so he allows him to go now and then, as long as it isn’t too risky.
Lan Sizhui sees Jin Ling standing apart with the Jin retinue. The Jin Sect’s reputation is in shambles after the truth of Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao’s plots came to light. Most of the other sects steer clear and shoot them dark looks. It is only their riches and their vast numbers that are keeping the Jins a part of the Big Four, but all respect for them has been lost, and in its place there is only mistrust and hatred.
Lan Sizhui had once been part of an eradicated Sect, turned away, and hated just for having the last name ‘Wen’. He looks at Jin Ling in commiseration. He directs his fellow Lans to stand beside the cultivators in gold.
Jin Ling arches an eyebrow at their approach, but Sizhui thinks he sees a hint of relief in his eyes as well.
“Sect Leader Jin,” Sizhui greets him, and his fellow disciples follow his example and echo his words politely.
Jin Ling huffs at the formality but salutes him as well, “Young Master Lan.” The Jins behind him hesitantly follow his lead. It rankles him that his influence over his own sect barely extended beyond his title. He shoots them all a glare, but they barely react. If it had been his uncle, they would have straightened as if their life depended on it.
Jin Ling turns his attention back to Lan Sizhui, who gives him a comforting smile. Behind him, Jingyi gives him a little wave while mouthing, ‘little mistress Jin.’ Jin Ling’s temple throbs in annoyance, but it does the trick of distracting him from bigger issues.
Ouyang Zizhen breaks away from his own Sect when it is clear they wouldn’t approach the Jins to greet them. He waves at his friends before going through the usual formal greetings.
“This is so exciting!” Zizhen looks around, awed at the number of participants for the joint night hunt. With the QingMing festival approaching, there had been an uptick in the number of hauntings and disturbances, especially in Qinghe.
The QingheNie sees this as an opportunity to strengthen ties among cultivation sects and proposes a joint night hunt among them. All small and big sects are invited and will be placed in random groups to work together. Each Sect dispatches a handful of senior cultivators to oversee their respective groups. The rest of the participants are juniors looking for more experience.
The First Disciple of the Nie Clan, Nie Ruoxi oversees the entire event. Sect Leader Nie Huaisang is absent as always. No one dares to call him ‘useless’ anymore, not after the rumors swirling about how he had been the mastermind behind uncovering the Jins’ sins, in revenge for his older brother’s death.
It had been a surprise for many that he even dared to invite the Jin Sect after everything that happened, but maybe this had been his way of publicly saying he did not blame the new Sect Leader at all.
Jin Ling nearly sighs in relief when he realizes Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, and Ouyang Zizhen are in his group. They also have two Yu disciples and one Yueyang disciple who are neutral to the Jins.
Lan Sizhui notes that the other Jin cultivators had been placed in groups that weren’t too against the Jins or simply didn’t care about rumors. This must be because of Sect Leader Nie’s consideration.
“Hey,” Jingyi whispers. “When this is over, let’s ditch those guys and get something to eat.”
Lan Sizhui sighs in exasperation. “Jingyi, we’re supposed to be watching over the Lan juniors; we can’t just bail on them. Senior Haoran won’t allow it.”
“Maybe you guys can excuse yourselves to have dinner or breakfast with us instead? I’m sure if Sect Leader Jin extends the invitation, your seniors won’t disagree,” Ouyang shoots Jin Ling a hopeful smile.
Jin Ling huffs, “Don’t drag me into whatever mess you’re planning.”
“Hey! What’s the use of having a Sect Leader for a friend if we can’t have privileges?” Jingyi complains, and Lan Sizhui shoots him another look.
“Who said we were friends?” Jin Ling says louder, crossing his arms before stomping away. Jingyi looks affronted while Lan Sizhui sighs and exchanges commiserating looks with Zizhen.
“Well,” Zizhen says with a shrug. “Hopefully, we’ll get along better while we’re nighthunting. Maybe we can convince Jin Ling then.”
Lan Sizhui hopes that is the case. If the four of them could spend some time together, maybe Jin Ling could finally relax for once. After everything that has happened, he needed it the most.
Maybe the universe has it out for them, Zizhen couldn’t help but muse to himself as they faced an unexpected trouble in what should have been a simple, routine nighthunt.
A Yiling Patriarch wannabe, complete with dark robes and with his high ponytail tied up with a red ribbon, stands before them, waving around an expensive-looking black flute.
(If Senior Wei had been here, he would have offered an exchange with his own. Hanguang-jun would then offer to buy him a better one, and then Senior Wei would swoon and coo at him and- well, it was so romantic, but he was getting off topic. Anyway-)
Right, they had been tracking a lost soul and came across a path littered with resentment and dead animals. The negative energy was so thick in the air that they had to cover their noses. The Senior disciple guiding them told them to turn back, but just as they were about to, people dressed in dark robes ambushed them and severely injured the Senior Nie disciple who had tried to give them an opportunity to escape. The Yu and Yueyang disciples managed to break free, but none of their captors seemed interested in chasing them.
Jingyi and Sizhui fought to save Nie Muyang, and Zizhen hesitated in leaving them behind, even when Jin Ling tried to push him forward. In the end, they were all captured.
Nie Muyang had been haphazardly placed in the center of some sort of array, his lifeblood seeping into the ground.
“I guess I’m lucky that you were the one who stumbled into my little experiment, Young Sect Leader Jin,” The man, dressed as if he’s trying too hard to be someone he isn’t, smiles widely. “In a way, this can be my satisfying revenge against your uncle.”
“What does my uncle have to do with anything?” Jin Ling snaps, struggling against the people holding him. And which uncle? He wants to ask. He has an overabundance of them, apparently.
“Sect Leader Jiang hunted down all the demonic cultivators with no mercy after the Yiling Patriarch’s death,” The man’s smile drops into a darker look. His eyes shine in a manic way that does not seem to bode well for them. “I had been one of those unfortunate enough to catch his interest. My wife had never wanted me to pursue these wicked arts, but we were starving, and there was money in it. I had no choice.”
There is silence as he breathes heavily, overcome with the memory.
“In the end, she took the fall for me and was tortured all in the name of your uncle’s deranged justice.” He looks at Jin Ling with so much hatred. “And now, this is my justice.”
The darkly dressed people bring a frail-looking woman. She is empty, eyes open but unseeing. She is breathing, but aside from that, there is no awareness on her face. What sort of torture did she go through to be left like this?
“Your uncle forgets that he isn’t the only one who has a family in this world,” He leans down and kisses his wife’s head before instructing the others to lay her in another array, beside the dying Nie disciple. “I only have my wife, and your uncle only has you now, right? I’ll use you to turn his wrong into a right. Isn’t it poetic justice that the one who will enact this revenge is someone who was inspired by the senior brother he so badly betrayed?”
He laughs maniacally. “Fate does have a sense of humor.”
The juniors grunt as they are pushed to the floor.
“Humans only live for a hundred years; it is as unreal as a dream that ends in an instant.” The man starts a chant. Lan Sizhui notices that the four of them are spread in a circle around the two big arrays and that they are kneeling on characters drawn in blood. “If Gods block, kill the Gods; if Buddhas block, kill the Buddhas (神挡杀神，佛挡杀佛). All of life is a dream walking, all of death is going home.”
Lan Sizhui sees Jingyi bite his tongue, blood dripping from his mouth. He kicks back, surprising his captor, and pulls one arm away to scratch at the character drawn before him. He spits out blood and traces something, yanks his other arm, with all of his Lan strength, probably dislocating it.
Lan Sizhui mirrors his desperation, drops his face on the ground, and tries to use it to mess up the characters. He hears a scream to his right.
“What are you, a dog?”
“Stop them! They’re messing up the array!”
Senior Wei has always taught them that intent was important. Whether it is in cultivation or exorcising evil, or maybe even just making talismans. Intent and feelings are what made their actions strong.
More time, more time… Lan Sizhui thinks. If they were given more time, they could escape this mess and save Nie Muyang.
“Reverse, reverse!” Jingyi muttered desperately, trying to alter the characters etched in the ground with his blood.
Jin Ling bites harder on his captor’s arm as Zizhen begins to yell for help, hoping someone could hear them. His captor tries to stab him in the neck but catches his shoulder instead, and he screams.
“Shit, it’s unstable! Mingze!”
The man dressed like Senior Wei, Mingze, panics and runs to grab his wife, but is caught by the tendrils of darkness, pulling him and his comatose wife down, down beneath the ground. “No!”
Light starts to shine on the four pillars surrounding the two big arrays, and the captors pull away, burned by whatever is happening. Some had even gone up in flames, rolling on the ground trying to put themselves out.
“No, no, no…” Zizhen is trying to crawl out, but his shoulder is burning. Jin Ling had been kicked in the back of the head because he wouldn’t let go. He is dizzy and barely conscious, screwing his eyes shut at the bright light.
I’m the only family uncle Jiang has left, Jin Ling thinks dizzily. Please, please let us live. Please let us see our families!
There is a sound like thunder cracking, and then everything flashes.
They knew no more.
Lan Sizhui wakes up, sees the sky, and lets out an almost hysterical laugh.
He’s alive! That means-
He sits up immediately, wincing at the scratches he feels on his face, and looks around. Surrounding him are the curled-up, injured forms of Jin Ling, Ouyang Zizhen, and Lan Jingyi. He scrabbles towards them, desperate to see if they are okay.
Their cores are drained, depleted. They need a copious amount of rest and meditation, but they are alive, and that is what counts.
Jin Ling’s uncle is going to be so mad, Lan Sizhui thinks as he leans back on his arms, relieved, after he patched up what he could with the first aid bag he had in his qiankun pouch. After the Guanyin Temple incident, Sect Leader Jiang had been a hundred times more protective of his nephew. It had been a miracle that he was even allowed to participate in the nighthunt hosted by QingheNie.
“Where are we anyway?” Sizhui mumbles to himself, squinting against the sun. Hadn’t it been nearing dusk when they stumbled upon the wannabe demonic cultivators?
The sun shines brightly over their heads, and there is no tree in sight. Where were they?
“Excuse me,” A female voice calls out, and it has Sizhui tensing up in defense. “Are you all right?”
Sizhui turns, and there is a beautiful woman in ragged, red clothes and hands smudged with dirt, looking at him warily. She has a worn basket on one arm and an uncertain frown on her face. She observes him and his unconscious companions, eyes narrowing when she sees their injuries.
Lan Sizhui does not know why it feels like the breath has been suck out of him.
The woman is looking at him too, a bit surprised but still very cautious. She is looking at his face, tracing it with her eyes.
A groan sounds behind him, and they both zero in on the noise. Lan Jingyi is awake and clutching at his dislocated shoulder. “Why, why did I do that? This hurts!”
“Jingyi!” Lan Sizhui runs to his friend to help him sit up. He frowns down at the injury. “We have to set it right, so your core can begin healing, but it might take some time with our cores depleted-”
“Depleted? Why is my core depleted? I didn’t even use much-OW!”
Sizhui uses his distraction to perfectly set the shoulder back into the socket. Jingyi’s scream of pain wakes up Ouyang Zizhen, who hisses when he moves his own injured shoulder.
“Do you specialize in medicinal healing?” The woman asks, and Sizhui looks up to see that she is crouched next to Zizhen, ripping apart his robes to let his injury breathe. The Ouyang disciple squeaks in surprise. She looks at Sizhui questioningly.
Oh, the question had been for him.
“No, I just-” Sizhui thinks back to how the branch family of Wen, which he belonged to, specialized in healing, and how he had doubled down on studying medicine to make sure he could somehow keep his family legacy alive through him. “My uncle taught me, and he was- is quite good.”
The woman squints at him but accepts his half-hearted explanation. “Do you have a first-aid pouch?”
Sizhui throws her one of his many medicinal emergency bags. Her eyebrows raise when she sees the wide variety of curative herbs inside.
“I didn’t know the GusuLan had such an expensive assortment of herbs in their first-aid pouches,” She frowns in confusion, but no one could blame her. The Lan Sect is known for its frugality after all. Their first-aid pouches usually just contain the necessities.
Oh no, that’s just me. Sizhui wants to say, but then he is interrupted by Jingyi asking, “I don’t mean to be rude, young mistress, but who are you and what are you doing here in QingheNie’s Stone (Shilin - 石林) Forest?”
The woman shoots him a perplexed look, “Do you have a concussion?”
“Uh, no…?”
“We’re nowhere near Qinghe. This is the Yiling Grounds, young master Lan,” She tells him, frowning. “And me? I am a resident of this barren land. I am the healer named Wen Qing.”
Jin Ling wakes up with a throbbing headache. It feels like he slept on a stone slab.
“That’s because you did.” He blinks up and sees Jingyi’s pale face looking down at him and groans. He would have slammed his head on the rock(?) below if Zizhen hadn’t immediately supported the back of his head with his hand.
“Be honest,” Jin Ling says, a touch bit dramatic. “How angry is my uncle?”
He sees Zizhen and Jinyi exchange looks, and he groans again.
“That bad?”
Zizhen shakes his head. “It’s not- well, it’s not your uncle. Your uncle is not here, wherever- whenever here is but- but it’s not good either. I- It’s bad, I think this is really, really bad.”
Jin Ling shoots him a look like he is crazy. “Is my concussion worse than I thought, or are you speaking gibberish on purpose?”
Jingyi, for once, doesn’t seem like he knows what to say. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and then shuts it just to shake his head in disbelief.
Jin Ling is growing worried. He looks around and tries to focus on something easier. He stands, stumbles a bit. “Where is Sizhui?”
“I’m here,” Comes a soft voice from the entrance of the cave (cave? Jin Ling thinks, and his head throbs just from thinking so; he resolves to take a closer look at wherever he is later).
Jin Ling looks up and sees Sizhui’s scraped-up face but what catches his attention are the red-rimmed eyes and trembling, pursed lips. “Uh,” What do you say to a friend who has clearly been crying? “A-Are you all right? What happened?”
Sizhui shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “How’s your head?”
It hurts, but I’ll live, Jin Ling thinks. He just waves away the concern. “That can wait; tell me what’s happening right now.”
Sizhui sighs. “You might want to sit down for this.”
It takes both Jingyi and Zizhen to hold Jin Ling back from storming out of the cave.
“Let me go! I said let me go!” The last few words sound so desperate that Jingyi almost tries to convince the others to let him be.
“Jin Ling, please,” Ouyang Zizhen begs him. “You don’t have any spiritual energy left, you can’t fly your sword anywhere-”
“I will fucking crawl if I have to-”
“And then what?” Sizhui says in a deceptively soft tone that makes everyone tense. He stands at the entrance, face tired and oh, so sad. “What will you tell them? ‘Hello, I’m your son from the future, kill Jin Guangyao if you want to live, or I’ll do it for you?’”
Jin Ling grits his teeth as he straightens, hands balled into fists. Zizhen and Jingyi reluctantly let go. “I’ll do and say whatever it takes to save my parents.”
“And if they kill you?”
“My parents won’t hurt me-”
“I didn’t mean them, I meant everyone else,” Sizhui is calm, and it sets Jin Ling’s teeth on edge. “Do you know what time period we landed on? It hasn’t been that long since the war. Everyone is wary, everyone is scared. One look at you, someone crazy claiming to be the future sect leader Jin’s son, they would think the worst. They would see it as a distraction, a crazy scheme cooked up by someone to divert their attention from the real danger. What proof do you have, anyway, that you’re from the future? You can claim knowledge, but will the people involved in what you know admit to what you say so easily?”
“That’s not-”
“And what about the consequences? What if you just speed up what is inevitable? How sure are you that you won’t make things worse?”
“Sizhui…” Jingyi says, hesitating.
Jin Ling snaps, “Oh, and you just know everything, don’t you? My mother and father died, and I blamed the wrong person for years and loved and believed their killer! Don’t you see this is my chance to make it right? To make things right? To have my family again?”
“Jin Ling, remember what Senior Wei taught us?” Zizhen tries to convince him. “He talked about theoretical time travel once, and he said something about three probable results. One, that whatever we did could branch out into a different timeline, but our future would stay the same.”
“Two, that what we did here could alter our own future, but the consequences would be severe, and some people would never be born or die earlier as a result,” Jingyi remembers, face pale.
“And three, our actions will have no impact, and the timeline would correct itself and erase the anomaly,” Sizhui finishes. “Jin Ling, our actions have consequences, and there is a great chance that it might not end well for us or anyone else. Are you willing to risk that?”
Jin Ling sways where he stands, and Zizhen makes a concerned noise, grabbing him by the arm before he can fall.
“You don’t understand, you don’t understand…” He mumbled, head throbbing, eyes burning.
Lan Sizhui kneels in front of him, takes his hand, and asks quietly, “Don’t I?”
Jin Ling looks up, eyes wide, and he sees something in Sizhui’s face that finally makes the tears fall, his shoulders heaving in great, big sobs.
They stay like that for a while.
End of Chapter I