Chapter Text
WEI WUXIAN can no longer move. Terrifying faces surround him, most of them beyond his control. That ... never happens. A scream builds inside that doesn't belong to him. It comes from the ghost-woman whose hand closes over his, icy fingers and palm radiating cold up his arm. It creeps into his body spreading over his flesh and into his bones. She's young though not a child, and she wants to be heard; she will use him as her voice, except words are lost in raw emotion – a cry of dying. It's too much - not just her pain or the death. There's something else, something ancient and oozing over her like ulcerated flesh. Demonic and reaching out for him. Wei Wuxian attempts to break free and fails. He pushes again, throwing his head back and demanding, “Get out!”
And she's gone and the Other with her, just like that. So are the others, remnants and spirits alike. For a long moment, he's left alone, caught in a void of smoke-filled silence standing at the far end of the third floor corridor in the Cornelia Holloway Home for the Poor and Demented. Located in the Blue Ridge Mountain chain running through Waynesboro, Virginia, the crumbling asylum is supposed to be one of the most haunted buildings in Northern Virginia, and as far as the Guāngyǔyǐng zhī qū mó zhě - Exorcists of Light and Shadow – team can tell, those rumors are true. You don't even have to be a practicing cultivator to feel the resentful energy. Belligerence alone is enough to hold the place together. It's old, or as old as it usually gets in America. It looks the part. Windows are cracked, and hallways and rooms filled with the debris of years gone by; interior walls are covered in peeling paint and graffiti behind an exterior of cracked, moss-covered brick. Another Big Clue is the lack of nesting birds and other wildlife inside. There was only silence during the day they’d first investigated, and later, at night as well.
The Yiling Laoza looks like a ghost himself, pale as moonlight, and long, black hair whipped to frenzy by winds that came from nowhere, now hanging ragged over his shoulders and back. He turns to regard his brother and friends - the director and camera crew - searching for the man who never leaves his side. Hanguang- Jun, his Lan Zhan, soulmate and husband is only a few steps away, golden eyes blazing. Wei Wuxian points at a stained corner of the hallway, fingertips nearly brushing the surface.
“There,” he says clearly. “She’s there ... not alone.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head, chasing words that won't form. And as the frigid temperature and taste of burnt offerings take his last breath, he staggers forward, closing bright, red-tinged eyes.
"Wei Ying!" Lan Wangji calls his name, centering his husband fully on this plain, rushing forward to catch him as he sways. Wei Wuxian shivers from head to toe, his breath still shallow. Lan Wangji slips off his winter-white coat and wraps it around him. “Turn off the camera,” he barks.
“But the footage,” Jiang ‘J.C.’ Cheng protests. “This is golden! Just what the viewers – ”
“Off!” Lan Wangji sweeps Wei Wuxian up into his arms and marches away. Soon, all the team hears is the echo of footsteps on the stairway heading down and away.
Hands on hips, J.C. watches them go, cursing under his breath. “Damn. You heard the man, Ai-Sang. Camera off!”
Nie-HuaiSang lowers his customized ARRI Alexa Mini; it's on 'pause' so that's as good as a 'stop,' right? The equipment is Ai-Sang's pride, tailored to their specific ghost hunting needs. Like Wen Ning and Wei-xiong's brother, Jiang Cheng, he has been best friends with Wei Wuxian years before there ever was a Yiling Laoza or Guāngyǔyǐng zhī qū mó zhě web series that blossomed into an international favorite bringing them all to the U.S. for a series of specials. In fact, he's the one who first began to post their night hunts and other entertainments, that created the soar in popularity.
Wen Ning allows his sound equipment to dip. The Ghost General wants to sprint after them, although they all know Lan Wangji has everything under control. Sometimes it's just best to remove their empath from the source of the haunting. Not that there's much chance of it in this place.
“What do you think you’re doing?” J.C. demands.
“Wuxian looks really ill,” Wen Ning says, troubled. “That was the worst since we arrived in the States. It turned cold as winter in here!”
“Because it is winter, idiot! But yeah, pretty fierce in the spirit world tonight,” J.C. admits grudgingly. “My stupid brother is all right, he always is. And you know the Jade won’t let anyone touch him!”
“We should go anyway,” Wen Ning insists quietly. “You should go, he's your brother.”
“He's adopted," J.C. growls. “And he never listens to me anyway.”
“Got some great footage – frosted breath from the whole crew! Wonder what the temp readings will show?" Nie HuaiSang breaks in. There's only so far an argument can go before it becomes boring and senseless. "Shadows got really dark, so we might have caught something in that.” He relies on his abilities to create diversion, even if he must play the nitwit, a role he perfected so long ago he can't remember the origin. It is a full time position; squabbles are a sure thing with this much family working together - especially this family.
Ai-Sang shifts the camera in his arms to a more comfortable position. “Let's shoot some more B footage. Atmosphere, like that corner, Wei-xiong pointed to. Come on, Ghost General, you know he's safe. Wangji will call if they need us.”
[] [] []
INSIDE THE VAN, Wei Wuxian comes back to himself in stages. He is still freezing despite the fleece blanket and Lan Wangji’s arms wrapped around him. As soon as his eyelids flutter open, his husband holds a mug of warm tea to his lips. It's herbal and revitalizing and mostly tasteless, but that's okay. Wuxian takes a sip, somewhat difficult with chattering teeth, but he manages. He hates this part; hates the cold.
It's closer to dawn than midnight and black as pitch outside. Not that Wei Wuxian sees much of it; only the surrounding equipment, the components and monitors that make up Ai-Sang’s kingdom, with all their mysterious dials, buttons and screens. It's the kind of stuff only an artist or mad genius can handle. Wei Wuxian doesn't know how it works, Ai-Sang being so vague on instruction. Not even Jiang Cheng is allowed to touch it, and he's their director.
He smiles a little. A-Cheng should be having a fit right about now if Nie-xiong hasn't calmed him. At this first sign of life, Lan Wangji helps him sit up better, pressing the mug to his lips again. Wei Wuxian drinks greedily, still so thirsty! His husband fills it again once it's empty, and this time, Wei Wuxian takes it from his hand, relishing the small heat against his fingers.
“Better?” Lan Wangji asks, his soft, deep voice falling like heaven on Wei Wuxian’s ears.
“Yes,” he replies. “Warmer. No need to coddle me, Lan-er! I'm all right.”
Lan Wangji tilts his head, golden eyes questioning as if to say, Is that so?
Wei Wuxian wilts in a heartbeat. “Aiyi, don't look at me like that! You know me too well. Just don't let go, all right? Keep holding me, okay?”
“I will,” Lan Wangji says as he takes the empty mug and sets it aside. He wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian once more, kissing his temple.
Wuxian sighs, burying his face against his husband's shoulder. “Tighter,” he whispers in a small voice.
“Yes,” Lan Wangji returns. For long moments, they drift in comfort together ... until Wei Wuxian shifts restlessly.
Lan Wangji keeps his silence, waiting for Wei Wuxian to speak. There's no need to rush. The Second Jade of Gusu felt the shadow of what his Wei Ying endured. He doesn't much like asylum settings. They hold too many lost souls and reflections, especially in America, where respect for the dead seems confused and limited. Yiling Laozu’s spiritual connections give them the voice they've never had. On camera, his empathy enhances belief just as Hanguang-Jun’s physical mediumship draws and convinces skeptics. Everyone wants to believe in the cynical West, although it seems they need their proof again and again. Many, he suspects, watch Guāngyǔyǐng zhī qū mó zhě only for entertainment, having no idea of the toll it takes on its warrior mystics. Lan Wangji spares a thought regarding the sheer number of paranormal documentary shows and films available and sighs. It is a kind of madness. How can anyone tell which of these shows are real and what is fake?
Guāngyǔyǐng zhī qū mó zhě isn't fake. It makes money, more than any of them imagined, not that Lan Wangji cares; he doesn't have to. The Lan, Nie and Jiang sects each hold a considerable fortune individually. Tallied together, their combined wealth is breathtaking - except, of course, for the Jins, whose riches reach obscene proportions. The Jin sect has taken credit for the defeat of Wen Associates, a criminal organization of corporate masterminds and thugs that tried to take down the Five Family League. It was GusuLan, Yunmeng's Lotus Pier and Qinghe Nie that were hit the hardest. They took the brunt of the damage and are now rebuilding along with smaller sects and companies they protected. Now Jin Global calls itself leader of the four sects and affiliates. It's a tentative peace. In a way Lan and Jiang pursuits and properties are partners with Jin, especially since Jiang Yanli has married Jin GuangShan's son, Jin Zixuan. So far, Nie Defense remains independent under Nie Mingjue's leadership mostly because Nie Mingjue will have Jin GuangShan's head on a pike if he suggests otherwise. Good land is always at a premium, and the Jins have become very interested in what has belonged to the Lan and Jiang families for generations. Neither Lan Wangji or his family will allow a takeover, nor will Jiang Cheng's parents. Anyone who takes on Madam Yu is a fool. It's the same for Nie Mingjue. Nie HuaiSang adores his indomitable hawk of a brother, tough as nails on the outside yet reserving a tiny marshmallow heart for Ai-Sang and others he calls friend inside. Regardless, all three families are resolute, defying the the Jins, even as Jin GuangShan jokes and spreads rumors.
“What?” Wei Wuxian asks, looking up.
“Nothing.” Lan Wangji shakes his head slightly.
"You want to try that again, Lan-er? Your husband is skeptical."
Lan Wangji huffs a small breath. "The Jins have been silent. Too long."
“Um … yes, they have. I won't say that's a good thing. But your brother and Nie Mingjue, they have things in control. You think Jin Guangsan will go to war with the Jiangs - with Madame Yu? She will whip him into place. He can't be that stupid - or suicidal." Wei Wuxian sits up, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm worried about home, too, but more concerned about tonight. You felt it, too, didn't you? That ghost - there was something else there."
Lan Wangji nods. "Yes. Demonic."
"Nasty." Wei Wuxian frowns.
Lan Wangji shares his husband's disquiet. "Hn ... Wei Ying isn't hurt?”
“Wei Ying is drained. Beaten, wrung out, and dumped in the trash bin, but unhurt. Tonight was intense. Thanks, Lan Zhan for your rescue.”
There comes a disgruntled sigh. “There's no need for thanks.”
“I know, I know.” Wei Wuxian laughs lightly; he places a kiss at the corner of his husband’s mouth. “At first, there were only reflections, images of the past ... Such suffering. Some seek release. We can handle those easily … maybe tomorrow? I don't think anyone could completely clear this place. It's in the land. Nothing should have been built here.”
“So you said from the first.”
"You felt it, too." Wei Wuxian nods, a smile lifting the corner of full, soft lips. “But that's tomorrow's worry, let’s forget it till then. You've gotta to fuck me hard tonight. I want you, want your strength.”
Lan Wangji returns his smile. “Every day.”
“Every day, husband.” Wei Wuxian laughs, color returning to his face. He places another kiss at the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth, who turns to meet him. Their kiss quickly deepens, lips opening to each other, tongues sliding together. Wei Wuxian groans, twisting around to straddle Lan Wangji’s lap, and winds his arms around his neck. The blanket slips to the floor, but that's fine. Wei Wuxian is feeling much warmer, and if he shivers it's for another reason.
Then Lan Wangji’s cell goes off with the hiss of an angry cat. Jiang Cheng.
“You said you were going to change that,” Wei Wuxian scolds with an unabashed grin.
Lan Wangji lifts an eyebrow and answers the call.
Jiang Cheng never bothers with ‘hellos,’ especially to the man he privately calls 'defiler.' “You will not fucking believe what we found up here,” he begins. It's impossible to tell if he's excited or angry. Possibly both. “Check your screen. Do it.”
The two peer at the cell screen as Jiang Cheng continues. “We were shooting footage when Wen Ning noticed a crack on the wall where Wei Wuxian pointed. The paint is new, but toned to match the gray fade, and still sticky. It crumbled with a touch, and look – look what’s here!”
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian watch as a quick pan reveals wreckage on the floor and a dark cavity in the wall. Inside, hanging by her wrists, is a female corpse dressed in a ragged, bloody shirt and jeans. She sags in her restraints, legs buckled and ankles crossed. Her bright new Sketchers are streaked with dirt and dark matter; one shoe is almost off.
Wei Wuxian gasps so hard it hurts. This is the young woman who visited him in spirit only a scant hour before. Lan Wangji’s arm tightens around him. “We see,” Lan Wangji says.
“Damnit,” Jiang Cheng groans. “Freaking, fucking fuck! You know what this means, don’t you? Trouble, lots and lots of trouble. We’re going to have to call the authorities.”
Lan Wangji nods. “We will come to you,” he says. “First, I will call my brother. Do nothing until we get there.”