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The misty sheets of rain passed through souls, just passing through, from a different plane altogether. And yet in the cold blank rain a pair of souls huddled together for warmth, warmth which their bodies would never have anymore, but who knew if souls could warm each other?
"Remind me why we were buried together?" The smaller soul, with a red dot of cinnabar on his forehead, asked to the one whose arms enveloped him.
"I told you I don't remember," his companion replied gruffly. He could still recall his own name—Nie Mingjue—but of course he would soon forget it, like all the others. Like how Jin Guangyao had forgotten his.
"Maybe we were married," Jin Guangyao, who knew not that he was Jin Guangyao, wistfully said.
Nie Mingjue's brows knitted together as he tried to piece together the events leading to their burial. Recalling mere fragments, he could only shoot with his own guess. "I doubt it."
Something fell in Jin Guangyao's expression. "... Da-ge," he called out after a long pause.
"Hmm?"
"Do you remember what my name is?"
The patter of the rain became louder as it thickened, from fine lines to sad, tearful droplets. The sky was an empty grey when gazed upon, like static mist in the corners of a dissipating soul's memories. Nie Mingjue tightened his grasp. "... Meng Yao," he said after a moment of consideration.
"Meng... Yao?" The name left Meng Yao's lips like a new article of clothing being tried on.
"Yes. Xichen used to call you A-Yao."
A-Yao looked up, puzzled, at Nie Mingjue. "Who was that...?"
"You're right," Nie Mingjue looked down to meet A-Yao's eyes. "Who was that?"
A-Yao smiled. A small smile, as soft as the snow-white powder covering every surface of the house. It was on all the furniture, the carpets dusted full; even upon the bed, which was the coffin they were buried in. Where did the powder come from? Perhaps it was where their memories went, the results of existence slowly chipped away particle by particle.
"Don't think too much," Nie Mingjue said, pressing a gentle kiss onto Meng Yao's forehead. He was not gentle before, but the town has eroded most of his edges away, like it eroded Jin Guangyao's resolve. Was it a quick process? Did it take a mere ten days, or had a hundred years passed? Seasons came and went, but who knew how many days each one took? There was no way to tell time. What would he even need to tell time for? Both of them were already dead.
Nie Mingjue had expected some kind of underworld after his death, not the blank sky and blank ground of an empty paperlike town, holding someone in his arms as both of them slowly dissipated, waiting for the day they would finally stop recognising each other, scattering into fine dust, unable to reincarnate again.
"Da-ge," the younger soul spoke all of a sudden. "My name—"
Nie Mingjue sighed. "Meng Yao."
"Meng Yao..."
"You don't need to remember it. If you forget, I can always tell you again."
"But Meng Yao wants to remember..." Meng Yao nuzzled his cheek against Nie Mingjue's arm. "Meng Yao wants to remember this name. Meng Yao wants to remember..."
But repetition was futile. No matter how much Meng Yao's name left his lips, it faded from his memory like how the yellow and gold had faded from his robes, leaving only a blank expanse of white; as though he was wearing the Sparks Amidst Snow itself, folded into its petals instead of merely carrying an embroidered emblem of it upon his chest.
"Meng... what's the other word? Ya..."
"It's Yao," Nie Mingjue corrected. "Meng Yao. You idiot."
Meng Yao laughed at the insult, the kind of laughter he used to hide, to show only to Lan Xichen. If only Nie Mingjue knew; would he feel guilt or pride that Meng Yao, who had guarded his own emotions so tightly in life, was lying down and showing his belly to him like this in death?
Yet hazy were those memories, all scattered and turned into powder.
"What else do you remember, Da-ge?"
Nie Mingjue looked down at Meng Yao, who had lain his head in his lap. A different kind of looking-down-on than that which Meng Yao so often received in life. "Not much."
"... Do you remember what kind of life I lived?"
"No," Nie Mingjue shook his head. "But I suppose you got what you wanted in the end. Your eyes were closed."
Perhaps someone closed them.
"Maybe what I wanted was to be buried with Da-ge?"
Nie Mingjue flicked Meng Yao's forehead gently. "Hopeless romantic."
"Was I like this when I was alive?"
"How would I know?"
The little Spark Amidst Snow rose from where he lay and sat down on Nie Mingjue's lap, straddling his thighs. "Doesn't it feel strange, being dead like this?" He asked, staring into Nie Mingjue's eyes.
Nie Mingjue did not know what to respond with. "... Eh? If we're dead, we're dead. The logic is sound."
His companion was not amused. "That wasn't what I wanted to say."
The papercut buildings were blank and covered in fine, dusty powder. It fell to the floor like snow, yet the thin layer did not stir under the footsteps of the two—perhaps lonely—souls. They explored sometimes, yet somehow always end up waking up inside the coffin they were buried in, placed like a bed in the main bedroom of the same blank house. It was all like a dream; hazy, white, and disorienting.
"Who's Qin Su, Da-ge?"
Nie Mingjue turned to look at A-Yao—he had forgotten what he was calling him before, what was wrong with calling him A-Yao instead? And now here he was, face-to-face with a name he did not remember at all. "Are you sure I'm supposed to recognise that?"
"... Perhaps not."
For a reason he himself did not understand, Nie Mingjue was getting irritated. "I told you not to think too much. What's the use of it? Let's just... just..."
A-Yao waited for Nie Mingjue to finish his sentence. After a long moment passed in silence, he spoke up to fish it out. "Just?"
"Just... stop trying to remember." Nie Mingjue sighed. "It only makes it easier for your memories to fade away." He did not say for you to fade away. Who needed verbal confirmation of that?
Both of them were quiet for a long time.
How much time had passed? Who was going to fade away first, leaving the other behind to wait even longer? There were many questions, and no answers. Having nothing to do, A-Yao explored Nie Mingjue's body while the latter sat in the lotus position on the floor, trying to meditate. What was he meditating for? It's not like dead people had any spiritual energy to cultivate.
A-Yao was having fun. "Why is this stitched on?" He asked, tracing his fingers across the seams connecting Nie Mingjue's head to his neck.
"Hands off."
"Mmm. As if. Da-ge must answer my question first."
"I said, hands off."
Nie Mingjue's current expression painted a picture of a cat bristling its tail at a beautiful insect who kept buzzing around it. If they were still alive, he would have already tossed the offending A-Yao onto the floor and—
He blinked. Why not do it? Being dead did not change much. Why should he have more patience as a soul than he had as a living being? And so he tossed A-Yao onto the floor and pinned him down.
"So eager to feel me up. Do you want me to reciprocate?"
A-Yao's eyes widened. "No."
"Then don't paw at me."
Before he saw A-Yao's face at that moment, Nie Mingjue did not know that souls could blush. Why was this a thing? They had no blood.
But if the effect of blood rushing to the face was maintained, then...
"Da-ge is that bored!?" A-Yao covered his face, folding up his own legs defensively.
"Pardon?"
A-Yao's fingers parted, allowing him to peek through. "If only you could see your own face—"
"Is there something on my face?"
"Waahh, there's nothing... just... just forget it."
Nie Mingjue shook his head. "Forgetting, huh." He got up from the floor, releasing A-Yao. "Sure."
A-Yao scrambled to his feet. "Da-ge...!"
"What now?"
"What was that just now?"
"What?"
"You were—t-trying to—"
"I wasn't trying to do anything."
"At least you were thinking to do it."
Nie Mingjue did not respond.
A-Yao sighed. "Can it be done...? We're just souls, after all..."
"You want to do it?"
"N-No."
Nie Mingjue got into the lotus position and closed his eyes.
"Wait!" A-Yao, realising that his Da-ge really was going to respectfully leave him be and start meditating, decided to stop playing coy. "Let's try it."
Nie Mingjue did not expect this outcome. He opened his eyes once more. "...?"
"Don't '...?' me. You know what—what—we're consummating our marriage!"
"What marriage?"
"......"
In the end, nothing of the sort happened.