Chapter Text
"Every now and then, I get a little bit angry
And I know I've got to get out and cry(Turn around)
Every now and then, I get a little bit terrified
But then I see the look in your eyes"
When Wei Wuxian and Nie Mingjue finally reached the entrance to the Nie Sect, dawn on the second day was just breaking over the mountains, slow and fragile like a wound beginning to heal. The sky was still pale, suspended between what had been and what was about to be, and that uncertain light seemed to hold its breath along with him. The doors of the sect stood wide open, draped in bright red, and the wind swayed the fabrics with an almost cruel sweetness, like gentle hands unaware of touching something already painful. They were doors of celebration, of union, of promises made before the sky, and Nie Mingjue looked at them as the sun rose behind him, feeling his breath catch in his chest for a moment, as if that light were penetrating too deeply, illuminating everything he had kept buried.
At that moment, as the first rays of light caressed the sect's stone and set fire to the red decorations, Nie Mingjue understood something that until then he had only whispered to himself so as not to break. He was carrying Wei Wuxian back to his wedding, walking him to the threshold of a life that didn't include him, and yet what he felt wasn't just pain. It was a slow understanding, like when you stop holding something in your hands and realize that it wasn't falling, it was just falling back into place. That was love. Not the one who grabs like a fist or holds back out of fear, but the one who walks alongside for a stretch of the road and then stops, letting go without looking back. It was a love like a blanket placed over someone's shoulders before going out into the cold, even if the one offering it is left behind.
That was his way of loving Wei Wuxian. Not fighting, not raising voice, not clinging to him like an anchor in a storm. It was standing still, with his feet planted in the soil of his sect, while around him servants, disciples and guests moved like a river that continues to flow even when a leaf detaches itself from the shore. The Nie Sect wasn't betraying him, and neither was Wei Wuxian. Nobody was taking anything away from them: they were just moving forward. And in that silent movement, Nie Mingjue understood that love is not always a scream or a battle, sometimes it is an open door left like that, without chains, so that the one you love can walk through without looking back.
There was life beyond that end, a life that didn't scream but breathed softly, like grass that grows back after being trampled. That moment that Nie Mingjue had stolen from fate had not been a violent theft, but like sticking your fingers into a stream to feel the water flow before the cold forces you to withdraw them. It had been a ray of sunshine caught on the fly at dawn, when it still hasn't really warmed up but promises that the day will come.
That alone was enough to make his heart beat again, not like a war drum, but like a low fire that continues to live under the ashes. He understood that love is like this: not something to be squeezed until it suffocates, but something to be left to walk on its own, like watching a bird take flight knowing that keeping it in a cage would have been easier, but infinitely more cruel.
That was not the edge of despair; it was a thin threshold, similar to the moment when the night slowly gives way to the morning, when the darkness has not yet disappeared and the light has not yet won, yet both recognize each other and touch each other without hurting each other. An ending that didn't close a door, but gently closed it, letting fresh air in.
He understood that we often don't realize how much we truly love something until we are forced to loosen our grip, until our arms, accustomed to protecting, learn to stay open instead of closing. It was like holding a tired bird in your hands: as long as you hold it you feel its warmth, but only when you let go do you realize how much you wanted to see it fly.
Watching Wei Wuxian walk away wasn't empty, it was feeling your arms suddenly become light, still warm from the weight they had supported. Like letting go of someone after a long hug, and your body remains suspended for a moment, remembering exactly where the other had been.
In that void, there was not abandonment, but space; there was no loss, but movement. Letting him go meant recognizing that love lives not in the hands that hold, but in those that open without trembling, accepting that what was in your arms continues to exist even far away, even without you.
Nie Mingjue felt a calm conviction grow within him, as deep as a root that finally finds water. His love would not end. It didn't need to be reciprocated to exist. Maybe it wasn't the right time, maybe it wasn't the right life, but it was real. He felt like a man opening his eyes for the first time, like a newborn who does not yet know the names of things but recognizes their warmth. Perhaps that end was just the world's way of telling him that there was still room for him, another step to take, another possibility to inhabit without fear.
The chance to live the way he really wanted. To ask forgiveness from the people he had hurt, and perhaps, for the first time, to ask forgiveness from himself for all the times he had believed that a chest full of nameless feelings was a mistake, something to be crushed under the armor of honor and discipline. For years he had given that love his blood, his battles, his sleepless nights, he had given it a name big enough to stand up to the world: the Nie Sect.
He had told himself that it was right this way, that it was enough, at least until the day fate planted a different love in his path, like a river suddenly flowing through a dry valley, alive and imperfect, loud as a child's laughter breaking the silence of an empty room, and bright as a window wide open onto a sky you never thought you could see.
Wei Wuxian loved to touch the cracks in others without fear, without turning away from their wounds or flaws, and as he watched him, Nie Mingjue understood how much time he had spent turning away himself, closing his eyes to his own pain, believing that fragility was dangerous and that the heart had to harden like stone to be safe. But that boy who laughed in front of him showed him that kindness, true kindness, meant looking inside the cracks, caressing them carefully, and that one could love without possession, without fear, without asking for anything in return.
Nie Mingjue felt the weight of entire years fall on his shoulders like slow snow that the sun does not melt yet remains, cold and silent, and in that instant he understood that loving did not mean grasping, but guarding in silence, as one guards a fragile seed that must grow far from one's hands. And there, before Wei Wuxian, as the dawn light slipped over the stones of the sect and made light shadows dance between the red curtains, Nie Mingjue realized that everything he had hidden.
That the anger, the fear, the love he had held tight like a forbidden treasure hadn't disappeared, it had just become transparent, like thin glass that reflects the light without resisting the wind.
Wei Wuxian's every breath, every small gesture, was like a caress that ran through his bones, sweet and cruel at the same time, and he couldn't cry, couldn't let go, yet inside his heart was a river overflowing, slow, silent, impossible to stop. To love like this meant feeling on fire and frozen at the same time, knowing that the world continued to turn and that the person he loved would be happy even without him, and understanding that his mission was not to keep him with him, but to let him go like one lets fly a bird that has been fed and protected until its wings are strong enough.
And in that letting go, Nie Mingjue felt free and broken for the first time in the same breath, like a tree that bends under the snow and welcomes it all, knowing that when it falls it will be stronger, and more capable of providing shade and shelter to others. All his pain, all his hidden love, became light, became wind that caressed Wei Wuxian even when he couldn't see it.
Nie Mingjue understood that, sometimes, to truly love meant being invisible, being as deep as roots beneath the earth, silent yet vital, and that there was nothing greater, nothing more sacred, nothing more true than that love he couldn't hold in his arms but that was within every breath, every heartbeat, every moment that remained between them, even when separated.
He had loved him in the most difficult and silent way, as one loves a dawn that one knows is destined to slip away behind the mountains, or as one tends a small, fragile fire, without trying to smother it with one's breath. He took a deep breath, and the air slipped into him like warm stone adapting to his hands, heavy, solid, stable. It wasn't a pain that tried to overwhelm him; It was a pain that felt like company, an old companion who had finally learned to sit beside you without scratching, without biting, without demanding what he couldn't have.
It was the pain of one who loves without possession, the pain that contains both honey and salt.
Sweet because of love itself, bitter because he couldn't hold it back, bright because he had seen it free and alive. And in that invisible embrace, in that calm that didn't scream, Nie Mingjue felt his heart expand without being hurt, learning for the first time that truly loving isn't about holding on, but letting go, and that true courage isn't about stealing what you desire, but watching it walk toward the light while you remain in the shadows, guarding its memory as if it were the most precious thing you possess.
Wei Wuxian looked at him and smiled. A simple, genuine smile, that didn't belong to a man who knew he was loved by those he couldn't have. A smile from someone who only sees a friend with whom he shared a night of cold air, fear, and stifled laughter behind a makeshift fire.
"We're here, Mingjue." Wei Wuxian's voice didn't tremble. His soul did, but not in a way Nie Mingjue could possess. And Nie Mingjue looked at him as one looks at the glow of dawn filtering through the trees: with gratitude, with amazement, with the awareness that that light is not his, but warms him nonetheless. He wasn't sad. He was just... alive. Wounded and alive. And for the first time in her life, both could coexist without shame.
The red-decorated doors opened before them, and if for Wei Wuxian they represented the beginning of a destiny that had been awaiting him for years, for Nie Mingjue they represented the end of one road and the beginning of another. A road where he would walk carrying with him a love that asked nothing in return. A love that didn't have to be reciprocated to be real.
Wei Wuxian turned to him to say something, but then stopped. Maybe he saw something in Nie Mingjue's gaze. Perhaps he felt that silence that spoke more than a thousand confessions. And Nie Mingjue finally allowed himself a smile. A real one. One who does not break, even if it is born from pain. Because light cannot be chained. You accompany it as far as you can. And then you watch it go, knowing you've truly known it.
They were there, face to face, with no anger between them, no accusations, nothing to shout at each other. In the distance, like a thunderclap announcing the return of the world, Jiang Cheng's voice pierced the air, shouting, "If I find him, I'll kill him. Where did that bastard go?! Wei Wuxian, if I find you..." Nie Mingjue chuckled softly, a short, almost tender sound, like the crackling of a branch breaking in a fire.
The moment had come, the moment to truly let him go....had come.
"Go," he said finally, his voice unshakable, though inside he felt like he was holding something as fragile as hot glass. "Go and live well. Live as you know how, without asking the world's permission. Don't look back for me." He stepped back as he spoke, as if to give the air space between them, the way you let the water of a river flow instead of trying to divert it.
"If you laugh one day, I want it to be a full laugh. If you cry one day, I want someone to be there to hold your back. Not me, maybe, but someone who holds you as you deserve." He inhaled slowly, as if he were imprinting that face in his memory. "I'll be fine. Not because I don't love you, but because I loved you the right way. And that... that's enough."
For a moment he stood there, looking at him, the way you look at a light before turning it off, knowing it will continue to shine elsewhere. Then he gave a final smile, sweeter than the previous one. "Go, Wei Wuxian. Don't carry my silence like a burden. Carry it like a blanket. For when the cold comes."
Nie Mingjue couldn't hold back any longer. The tears fell without asking permission, like rain falling between the leaves of a tree without being able to stop, and each drop seemed to wash away a piece of the weight he had carried for years. He felt vulnerable, incredibly human, yet paradoxically stronger than he had ever been. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to stop the sobs that were building in his throat, but one escaped anyway, a small, desperate sound of someone who knows he can no longer hold back his heart.
Then, between one gasp and another, Nie Mingjue shook his head slightly and smiled through his tears, that bitter-sweet smile that was so natural to him. “And you, Wuxian,” he said, his voice shaking but fierce at the same time, “behave like a man, eh? Don't mess with Lan Wangji, because if he even dares not take care of you while you're married… well… I swear I'll come after him myself and make him apologize to you! And there will be no excuses, eh.” The sentence came out with a hint of irony, a desperate attempt to lighten the weight of the moment, and for a moment Nie Mingjue laughed through his tears, like a river laughing between the rocks before sliding down.
Then he became serious again, his smile mingling with his tears like light dancing on water. "But don't get me wrong... Wuxian, I'm not joking. You matter, and I want you to live every breath, every day, as if the world were yours. I... I'll be content to watch you from afar, to know that you're fine, that you love as you know how, that you laugh as you deserve. And if you ever find yourself in trouble... well... Lan Wangji will have to understand that he can't rely on me alone to bring justice, okay?"
He turned slightly, looking at the red doors before them, and felt his heart explode with a love so full and trembling that it made his ribs hurt. But there was no regret, only a sweet awareness: letting him go was the greatest proof of how much he had been capable of loving, of how real his love was, alive, and capable of surviving even when far away, even when he could no longer touch him. The tears continued to flow, warm, sweet, like blood and honey together, and in that pain that was light and shadow, Nie Mingjue finally felt like he could breathe.
“But… now I say goodbye,” said Nie Mingjue, his voice breaking with tears, a thin thread that vibrated like a string taut in the wind. “I’m sorry I won’t be at the wedding, but I’ll toast your happiness anyway.” His heart was beating like a drum submerged in water, strong and irregular, and as he spoke those words, each single beat seemed to leave a piece of itself behind, like leaves falling into a river and being swept away without ever stopping. Wei Wuxian looked at him, his eyes shining, and Nie Mingjue felt that small gaze like a ray of sunshine through a storm. Warm, direct, irreversible.
“I won’t be with you,” Nie Mingjue continued, a trembling smile trying to mask his desperation, “but I’ll be here,” he said, lightly slapping his chest, “here, in every breath you take, in every thought you think, in every moment you laugh without realizing that someone loves you enough to let you go.” He turned slightly, as if to hide from the world watching them, and the tears still streamed down his face, warm and sweet like honey burning gently on the lips. “And if Lan Wangji ever forgets how much you’re worth… well… I’ll remind him… even if it’s from afar,” he added with a trembling thread of irony, his voice laughing through the tears, a ray of light fighting against the weight of grief.
Nie Mingjue felt his soul torn apart and reborn at the same time, like snow melting and allowing new grass to sprout, fragile but strong, ready to grow. Letting him go wasn't a renunciation, it was the greatest test of everything he had learned. To love without possessing, to protect without imprisoning, to stay alive even when his heart seems to be breaking.
And as he took one last step back, allowing Wei Wuxian to breathe the world without him, Nie Mingjue understood that that love, invisible but real, would continue to shine even without contact, like stars guiding the path of lost travelers, silent, impassive, but always there.
And as he watched the two purple robes approach the gate, Nie Mingjue raised a hand in greeting, and the gesture seemed as fragile as a wisp of smoke trying to remain suspended in the air. “Have a good life, Wei Wuxian…” he said, his voice cracking and hot like slowly dripping wax, “I will forever be grateful to you for showing me a different world… go.” His eyes still burned with tears that stubbornly fell, and for a moment the world seemed suspended between his breaking heart and the light that continued to filter through the clouds.
Then his gaze fell on Jiang Cheng, visibly red and ready to explode, and on Jiang Yanli, her face full of concern that betrayed fear of what his brother might do, and Nie Mingjue felt a tightness in his chest, as if all his fears, affections, and regrets had mixed together into a single painful knot.
He looked back at Wei Wuxian, his heart both overflowing and empty, and managed a smile through his tears. “Go, everyone’s waiting for you… we… we’ll see each other.” The words drifted through the air like gold dust in the sun, light but heavy with meaning, and then he turned, walking slowly, his heart broken, yet with a deep sigh, trying to breathe the whole world in a single gesture.
He knew he had to let go, that the day, the tears and the loneliness would find a respite, and he decided that the first tavern along the road to Qinghe would be his salvation, the place where pain could mingle with the warmth of the wine and the noise of the day, where every sip would melt a fragment of a broken heart.
He paused for just a moment, looking up at the sky, which was taking on lighter hues, and thought that perhaps, after all, there's no time to drink, no right moment to let the pain slide away, and that perhaps life itself is like that wine: bitter and sweet at the same time, capable of burning and warming, and that the best way to survive was to keep walking, step by step, letting the bleeding heart slowly learn to smile again.
Wei Wuxian couldn't organize his thoughts. Everything that had happened in the previous few minutes was overwhelming him like a raging river overflowing its banks, yet for him they were interminable moments, minutes both relaxed and frenetic. He was dragged by Jiang Cheng along the corridors of the sect, while Nie Mingjue's back receded into the horizon, becoming a fragile and luminous figure that blended in with the light of dawn and the shadows of his heart. Information, events, memories of the words Nie Mingjue had said to him, “I love you,” bounced around in Wei Wuxian’s mind like flower petals falling into a stream and being swept away without him being able to catch them.
He tried to convince himself that perhaps Nie Mingjue hadn't really meant those words, while someone helped him with his veil and hair, while someone asked him if anything had changed, if he was sure of his choice, and he continued to look at himself in the bronze mirror in front of him.
And in that mirror there wasn't just his own face. Lan Wangji was there, yes, but Nie Mingjue was also there, present like the echo of a heartbeat that never stops pounding in the chest. Lan Wangji, the man who had always warmed him with a silent calm, who had guarded his every breath and every fear as if they were fragile crystals, now seemed like a concrete figure before him, yet Wei Wuxian's heart could not fully feel there: it was divided, suspended.
The veil fell over the eyes like a fine snow, and with each thread that fell reality seemed to filter colder, more detached; the chill ran through his chest, thin and insistent, as if an ancient wind had infiltrated between his ribs and stolen the warmth from his breath. That veil wasn't just a symbol of sacredness or ritual.
It was a barrier between what he could touch and what he desired, between the present and all the truths he had tried to bury. Every time he tried to smile, it was as if a part of him escaped into the reflection, slipping into the shadows of the corridors, into the flickering light of the lanterns, into the memories of Nie Mingjue that had spoken to him of love, confusion, and silent fidelity.
Wei Wuxian had grown accustomed to hiding his vulnerability, to folding it into light gestures and jokes, but now, in front of the mirror, even the truest smile seemed like a veil over an abyss opening beneath his feet.
The corridor stretched out before him like a river of stone and light, endless and majestic, and Wei Wuxian walked slowly, feeling the weight of time, of regrets, of unspoken promises. Every step brought him closer to his destiny, to his forever, to his marriage, yet every step dragged with it the memory of Nie Mingjue, that sweet, silent presence that had filled his emptiest days. It was a love without possibilities, a love that had nourished itself on sacrifice and silence, yet incredibly bright, like a fire that burns beneath the ashes and lights up even the coldest night.
And Wei Wuxian understood, in that moment suspended between reflection and reality, that loving someone didn't always mean being able to keep them close. It meant keeping his warmth inside himself, even when life took him far away, even when his heart seemed to freeze under a veil it could not lift. Lan Wangji was there, before him, tangible and real, yet Wei Wuxian's heart continued to beat for another presence, silent but vivid like the sun hidden behind the clouds.
The future opened up before him like an unknown garden: bright, uncertain, full of promise, and he had to cross it, carrying with him the secret light of the one who had loved him without asking for anything in return, Nie Mingjue, whose loyalty and whose pain had accompanied him until that moment like an invisible caress.
Lan Wangji took his hands, and for a moment the world seemed to stop: it was his forever, his concrete, palpable love, and yet a breath of wind lifted the veil and Wei Wuxian saw something else. It wasn't Lan Wangji, or at least not entirely.
It was Nie Mingjue, his cheek covered in dirt, with a smile that reached the heart like the sun through the clouds, a vivid and impossible-to-ignore memory, the invisible frown he had placed on his chest. For a moment he closed his eyes, and emotions overwhelmed him: gratitude, grief, love, regret, all together like a stormy sea that leaves no escape. His heart trembled, a drum suspended between the present and all he had left behind, between what he could have had and what he had to let go.
And as he opened his eyes again, Wei Wuxian felt a silent scream inside him, a wail that reverberated between his ribs like a drum suspended in the wind. He had to let go of Nie Mingjue, that love that now belonged to the past, a sweet and fierce fire that had lit up dark days and endless nights, and which was now turning to ash that slipped through his fingers without him being able to hold it back.
Every beat of her heart screamed Nie Mingjue's name, every breath recalled the delicacy of those hidden gestures, of shared silences, of a presence that had shaped her soul without asking for anything in return. Yet the world around him called him, dragged him toward Lan Wangji, toward what everyone expected as the natural ending, the place where the light of life and love awaited him.
Letting go meant forgetting. It didn't mean keeping that secret light inside herself, carrying it like an invisible treasure, a silent caress that would accompany every future smile, every gesture of happiness, even if it would no longer be shared with Nie Mingjue.Wei Wuxian felt Lan Wangji's hands grip his, solid and warm, and for an instant everything else melted away. The corridor, the veils, the ceremony, the light filtering through the lanterns, everything became a breath, and within him the memory of a simpler, lighter time resurfaced, one that made him smile through the tears that were falling.
He remembered the little wooden house, hidden among the trees, with the small chicken coop and that chicken, Mrs. Goldenbeak, who kept running away from Nie Mingjue, forcing him to run after her like an unlikely hero at a country fair.
Wei Wuxian laughed as he cultivated a small plot of land near the cottage, trying to grow vegetables fast enough to feed them both. Nie Mingjue snorted, his eyes shining with patience and amusement, trying to teach him how to catch the chicken without getting caught himself. “Wei Wuxian, I swear, if this chicken pecks you again, I will throw it into the woods!” he had yelled at him, and Wei Wuxian had laughed so hard he doubled over, momentarily forgetting the weight of the world.
That memory returned like a warm wave in Wei Wuxian's heart as he looked at Lan Wangji: the face he saw, for a moment, was not that of his future husband, but that of Nie Mingjue, with his hair disheveled and his face dirty with earth, his brow furrowed in a funny grimace as he tried to recover from an absurd and happy moment, as if it were his duty to remind him that life could also be lighthearted.
Wei Wuxian understood that this was what Nie Mingjue had always done: showing him that even on the most difficult days one could laugh, that light existed even among the shadows, and that love could manifest itself even in the most absurd gestures, in the smallest and most unplanned moments. The contrast made him smile with a hint of melancholy: his heart was torn between the present reality and those sweet memories, but the memory of Nie Mingjue was an invisible gift that accompanied him, a golden thread in the darkness, ready to illuminate even the coldest corridors of life.
Wei Wuxian felt the room around him, the red lanterns flickering like frightened hearts, and every glance toward Lan Wangji weighed on his shoulders like a world he had never asked to carry. But at the back of the room, beyond the bright red and the confused voices, she saw him: Nie Mingjue. His gaze was a calm river that did not seek to swallow him, but to embrace him all at once, to bring him back to itself without chains, without questions.
The words that Nie Mingjue did not speak, the love that trembled in his hands like snow melting in the sun, struck Wei Wuxian like a bolt of lightning in the heart. He loved every imperfection in him, every little flaw the world tried to correct, and now he told him he wouldn't change a thing about him, that he had brought him back not for reason, but for feeling.
Wei Wuxian felt the hole in his chest widen again, a void that sucked his breath away, and for a moment the hall, the ceremony, Lan Wangji, everything became a distant shadow, a memory of an ending that was not his. His heart pounded in his ears like a drum beating only for Nie Mingjue, and the whole world seemed to shrink to that point, to those eyes that spoke to him wordlessly, to those invisible hands that held him back from falling, to that love that silently screamed: “I love you, just as you are, and I will let you go.”
Wei Wuxian felt simultaneously as small as a grain of sand suspended in the fingers of fate and as giant as a tree that had withstood a thousand storms, overflowing with emotions he couldn't contain.
He was suspended between what everyone asked of him—perfection, marriage, the role the world had written for him—and what his heart, so stubborn and indomitable, demanded with silent screams: Nie Mingjue. Every memory that bound him to him poured into him like a raging river overflowing its banks, mingling laughter and tears, improvised pranks between elusive chickens and the small forest that had seen them laugh, laugh until the walls of that little wooden house shook, until the air vibrated with the lightness of the world that only the two of them knew.
Every gesture of care Nie Mingjue had made for him, every angry yet affectionate look that had scolded him without hurting him, every small moment in which he had seen him imperfect and loved him overwhelmed him like waves that felt like the sea and the storm at the same time, making him understand how cruel and generous the heart can be in the same beat.
Nie Mingjue was a liberation, a flight of feathers that defied gravity and fate. The hall, the wedding, the bright red that was supposed to symbolize happiness and union, became a thin veil that could no longer hold back, transparent like tears shining in the light of dawn. The emptiness inside him was both vertigo and heat, an abyss that didn't swallow him, but pushed him upward, to chase the light that was Nie Mingjue, the light that had brought him back despite the hatred, despite the fear, despite everything.
As his eyes met Nie Mingjue's at the end of the corridor, he understood that true love doesn't ask permission, doesn't bend, doesn't give up: it burns, pushes, saves, and restores life even where all seemed lost. And so Wei Wuxian froze for a moment, breathing deeply, feeling his heart burning and tears rising like dew that he wouldn't hold back, and whispered to himself: "What the fuck am I doing?"
He looked back at Lan Wangji, but found no hold, he was unable to cling to that certainty that everyone expected of him. He didn't even realize it was his turn to say "I do." And what did Wei Wuxian really want? What were his deepest desires, the ones that no one could read? It seemed as if the entire room, the entire world, was asking him, like a silence pressing on the heart, and Wei Wuxian felt the emptiness of an answer he didn't know how to give, while the thought of Nie Mingjue, with his living and imperfect love, tore him apart from the inside.
Lan Wangji's hands, warm and safe, were there, but his gaze was looking elsewhere, looking for what his heart had never stopped desiring, what his mind had tried to repress behind smiles and duties. "What do I really want?" Wei Wuxian wondered, and the answer wasn't in what others expected, it wasn't in the perfect wedding, the red dresses, the applause or the convenient smiles.
Wei Wuxian took a deep breath and felt the weight of every gaze, every expectation, as if the corridor itself were a giant mirror reflecting what everyone thought he should want. But his heart was a restless sea, and in that moment he understood that no words, no "I do" uttered with Lan Wangji, would fill the emptiness he felt inside. His desires were not of the perfection that everyone expected, they were not packaged in formal and ritual promises. They were alive, loud, confused, and pointing to one person: Nie Mingjue.
Every heartbeat reminded him of the stolen moments they spent together, the laughter in the log cabin as they tried to tame the golden-beaked chicken, the warmth of their gazes locked in the woods, their hands brushing together without ever truly letting go. The little wooden house hidden among the trees, the golden-beaked chicken that ran away and forced them to laugh together, Wei Wuxian cultivating the garden and Nie Mingjue shaking his head in amusement as he corrected him, every small moment that had no weight for the world but contained entire universes for the two of them.
The room became narrow and long like the thread of a suspended breath, and Wei Wuxian felt the knot in his stomach tighten so tightly that he lost his grip on reality. The "I do" around him turned into an empty echo: it wasn't what he wanted to say, it wasn't what his heart was asking for.
This time he couldn't lie to himself. That "I do" wasn't for Lan Wangji. It couldn't be. His heart was already on the run, already running towards Nie Mingjue, towards the one love who had shown him the freedom to be himself, the only one who had brought him back when all seemed lost.
And so, as the room held its breath and everyone waited, Wei Wuxian felt an irresistible urge, a voice inside him screaming that he could not continue living the lie of other people's perfection. His heart tugged at him, and in that instant he understood what he truly wanted: to run, to laugh, to cry, to live next to Nie Mingjue, even if for a moment stolen from the entire world.
His heart beat irregularly, like a mad drum, and his hands shook as he released Lan Wangji's: the "I do" that everyone was waiting for shattered on his lips like shattered glass. Every fiber of Wei Wuxian cried out against the lie everyone called fate. He didn't want it, not now, not ever really; what he wanted was there, in front of him, alive and untamed, throbbing like a heart beating in the hands of anyone who dares to grasp it.
Wei Wuxian felt his heart sink so deeply it felt like an abyss in his stomach, a dark whirlpool sucking everything else in, and for the second time he asked himself, a silent scream that shook his bones, “What the fuck am I doing?”
Every fiber of his body told him to run away, to flee from that corridor dressed in red and full of duties, from that story that wasn't his, from that wedding that everyone had already written but that didn't contain his name. The hole in his heart screamed out a single name, a single face, hands and arms that knew his soul better than anyone else: Nie Mingjue. Not Lan Wangji, not the perfect saint everyone was waiting for; he wanted the chaos, the wild light, the imperfect love that only Nie Mingjue could give him.
The corridor stretched out like a river of red velvet, and every step took him away from fiction, every breath pushed him toward the truth. Lan Wangji, the saint who married Wei Wuxian, the demon, the living legend of terror and cheeky smile. But Wei Wuxian could no longer lie to himself: he was not the demon everyone wanted, he was not the hero who was supposed to marry the saint, he could not live a story that he did not feel was his.
And so, without looking back, his heart pounding, his body trembling with both fear and desire, he ran. He ran towards the only love he had learned to recognize, towards Nie Mingjue, towards that light that had saved him when all seemed lost, towards the place where he could finally be himself, free and true. The corridor, the red, the expectations and promises fell behind him like leaves in the wind, as he followed his heart, every step a beat, every breath a memory, every glance a farewell to what had never been.
So, he ran.
Nie Mingjue crouched over that battered table, the rough wood against his hands and forehead, as the hours passed without him really counting them. The wine flowed like a slow, warm river, filling the jars one after another, and he beckoned the innkeeper with his hand, no longer worrying about paying attention to his words or gestures. Afternoon had faded into evening, the setting sun leaving behind a burnt sky of orange and purple that filtered through the tavern's dirty, broken windows. Nie Mingjue didn't want to think, he didn't want clarity, he didn't want to face the echo of his thoughts, because he knew, he felt it like an icy shiver down his spine, that the world outside had continued without him.
Wei Wuxian, his heart, his chaos, his refuge, was now married, dressed in red and duty, while he remained there, crouched on the wood, drunk to the marrow, trying to grasp with wine what fate had stolen from him. Each sip was an attempt to fill a void too big for a tavern, too big for any liquid, and as he drank he felt the world spinning around him, slow and cruel, and the memory of Wei Wuxian pricked him like a needle, sweet and sharp at the same time.
The tavern was a refuge of creaking wood and thin smoke, and Nie Mingjue crouched there like a castaway on a wreck, his hands clutching the jar as if they could grasp everything the world had taken from him. The wine flowed down his throat like a warm stream, and he laughed softly, alone, at jokes that only his drunken memory could conjure up.
Wei Wuxian hiding in the wooden house with mrs. golden beak, running laughing between the rooms while Wei Wuxian desperately tried to fix everything before the disaster became irreparable; Wei Wuxian cultivated herbs with his hands covered in dirt, speaking aloud to the plants as if they were living creatures that understood every word. And Nie Mingjue was still laughing at that image, how he had threatened to beat the chicken if it didn't behave, while Wei Wuxian looked at him with those mischievous gray eyes that bewitched him every time.
The wine burned his throat and his heart at the same time. Every memory was a sweet and bitter arrow at the same time, and the thought of Wei Wuxian dressed as a groom tightened his stomach like an iron knot. He wanted to scream, run, grab him and never let go, but he knew his love couldn't hold back the light that belonged to someone else. So he remained there, laughing and crying at the same time, letting the tears flow mixed with the wine, while the world continued to spin and he remained still, suspended between regret and the sweetness of every shared moment.
And in the silence of the tavern, amid the crackling of the wood and the wind banging the windows, Nie Mingjue realized that those memories, those imperfect moments, were his anchor. Despite the pain, despite the broken heart, the love she felt for Wei Wuxian was a beacon that no fate could extinguish. He still laughed softly, and with a trembling sigh, he whispered to the void: "You have been my light, Wuxian. Always... even from afar."
Nie Mingjue chewed the dumplings slowly, the warm broth sliding across his tongue and warming the chill within him a little, while the innkeeper stared at him with that strange combination of irritation and pity that only someone who knew the regulars well could display. The buzz of the tavern reached him muffled, like a distant sea lapping on the rocks without him being able to distinguish the waves: shouting voices, giggles, whispers and chatter of people who had heard something big, something that had sent the whole world running, and Nie Mingjue laughed softly to himself, because he really didn't care what the crowd said; his world was reduced to the warmth of the wine, the scent of the dumplings, and a heart that still trembled for Wei Wuxian.
Then the door swung open, and everything changed. A sudden silence fell over the tavern like a veil, thick and dense, and Nie Mingjue barely raised his eyes, still caught between the taste of the food and the smoke of the wine. It wasn't fear, it wasn't curiosity; it was that strange awareness that something important had just entered, like a lightning bolt crossing the sky without warning. And for a moment the world seemed suspended: the clinking of dishes stopped, the voices faded, and the wine on his tongue grew too hot, almost burning, while a knot grew in his chest reminded him of how much he had loved and lost, and how much he still loved, without being able to change it.
But Nie Mingjue, still wrapped in the warmth of his drunkenness and the comfort of the small pleasures of the moment, decided he would not look too much, he would not investigate, because the wine and the regret were enough for him. He smiled to himself, a tired, trembling smile, and whispered almost in a low voice: “Let the world shout as much as it wants… I already have my silence, my wine, and my memories.”
At least until someone snatched the jar of wine from his hands. He saw something red, very red, but he couldn't focus on who was in front of him. He yelled, "Hey, asshole! Why did you snatch my jar from me... Are you looking for trouble?!" He stepped forward, clumsy as a sloth trying to climb a tree, and the person who had gotten him the wine sat down at his level, at his table. Nie Mingjue, too drunk to really understand, looked closer and saw Wei Wuxian in wedding clothes, without a veil, sitting sprawled while drinking his wine. Running a hand over his face, Nie Mingjue muttered, “Am I so drunk that I’m having visions?”
Wei Wuxian shook his head calmly, his voice hoarse and slightly shaky, like someone who's run too long but won't stop. "No, Mingjue... I'm not a vision. I'm really me. And if you like, we can share this jar together."
Nie Mingjue shook his head in disbelief, his brain struggling to connect every piece of reality as if his mind were trapped in an overflowing glass of wine. "You... but..." he began, his words tangled between tears and laughter, "you... you just got married! You can't be here, you can't! It's impossible!" But Wei Wuxian's voice, calm and hoarse, reached him like a gentle wave breaking the tide of his doubts: "I am here, Mingjue. It is I, before you."
Nie Mingjue stared at the red figure before him, his body trembling. His heart was beating so hard it felt like it was about to jump out of his chest, like a mad bird trying to break free from an invisible cage.
“Wei Wuxian… what the fuck are you doing here?!” Nie Mingjue exclaimed, completely lucid for a moment, because it was absurd to see a newlywed, and especially Wei Wuxian, in an inn during his first night as a groom. "You... you!" he said, pointing, trying to gather his thoughts but failing. "You should be in bed with your husband! Not here drinking, Wei Wuxian! What kind of newlywed skips a night out with his husband!" His eyes widened like plates, the panic palpable in every word.
Wei Wuxian shrugged, barely holding back a laugh, and before approaching the table with the jar of wine, he said, “A guy who just ran away from the person he was supposed to marry, live the perfect life, and pissed off a lot of people at the same time…” He raised the jar towards Nie Mingjue, his eyes sparkling with challenge and amusement, “That person… is me.”
Nie Mingjue couldn't hear well and widened his eyes: "What?" His voice trembled between disbelief and panic, while his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Wei Wuxian, with a sly, almost theatrical smile, approached, like a ray of sunshine sneaking in through a half-open window. “Yes, Mingjue… I ran away from the wedding.” His words fell as lightly as leaves in the wind, yet heavy as stones on Nie Mingjue's heart. “I looked for you everywhere… from one inn to another, amidst the smoke from the kitchens and the sound of footsteps… and finally… well, here I am.”
Wei Wuxian's voice dropped to a whisper that seemed to come from the air itself, warm and heavy like the scent of rain on the fields in summer. "Mingjue... I... I shouldn't have... not like this, perhaps... but I can't lie to you. I've always looked for you. I've searched for you among the inns, among the footsteps of passersby, among the smoke of fireplaces and the hum of lanterns... and every time I didn't find you, it was as if the whole world dimmed a little. As if the light were dimming, as if the flowers stopped blooming. And I... I couldn't bear it."
He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, as if even speaking were an act of extreme courage. “I loved you even when I told myself it was impossible, even when I forced myself to let you go, to bow my head and accept a more… ordinary fate. But Mingjue… without you… the wind sounds hollow, and the sky seems colorless… it's just that without you, the world lost all flavor, every breath became a burden, every laugh a distant echo. And I… I couldn’t let that happen.”
His gray eyes were bright, flickering like flames that refuse to go out but desperately seek a foothold. "I loved you, Mingjue... I love you... despite everything, despite the time, despite the mistakes, the escapes, the fears... I love you. And I can't hide it anymore. I don't want to hide it anymore. Even if the whole world tells me to let you go, even if I have to be alone for the rest of my life, I... I have searched for you and I will always search for you."
Each word was like a flower blooming between the cracks in the inn's wooden floor, fragile yet luminous. And for the first time, Wei Wuxian truly let himself go, without masks, without veils, without fear, handing over to Nie Mingjue his whole heart, every fragment of himself that he had kept hidden for years.
Nie Mingjue looked up at Wei Wuxian, his cheeks red, his eyes shining, his heart pounding like a mad drum, and said with a strangled, trembling laugh, "I'm… I'm too drunk, aren't I? I'm dreaming, right?" His hands were shaking, trying to grasp something concrete on the table, but everything seemed to slip away like sand through his fingers. Every word that came out seemed to come out of him with difficulty, yet he couldn't stop talking. "It can't be real... you... you... are you really telling me...?"
Wei Wuxian barely held back a smile, his eyes shining with a light that was no longer that of disorder and play, but of the naked and raw truth. "If it were you... yes, maybe too much. But I... not yet. And maybe... maybe this is a good time to do it," he said softly, like someone placing their heart before a delicate crystal, fearing it will shatter at the slightest touch.
Nie Mingjue felt the world spinning around him, his breath holding, and the wine in his jar suddenly seemed to turn to liquid fire in his veins. The tears flowed uncontrollably, hot, burning, washing away the confusion, the fear, the pain that had accumulated over the years. "I, too... I love you..." he murmured between sobs, his voice broken yet firm in the purest truth. Wei Wuxian shook his head slowly, a gentle, trembling gesture, and let the silence bridge the gap between them, a silence that spoke louder than any words.
The night was young and enveloped the inn with a soft embrace, like a cloak that smooths the edges of reality. There, in that suspended moment, Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian were in no hurry for anything. The noise of the inn bounced off the wooden walls, mixing with the clinking of the jars, the laughter of the customers and the warmth of the wine. But between them everything seemed to slow down, as if time had decided to bend around that table, leaving them space to breathe, to simply exist.
Wei Wuxian laughed, lighter than he had in years, watching Nie Mingjue who continued to stare at him with those eyes full of amazement and disbelief, as if he were looking at an impossible vision. Each laugh was a small bridge between them, a thin thread that united their hearts after years of separations, regrets, and silences. Nie Mingjue let out a strangled smile, tears still hot on his cheeks, and for a moment everything else in the world dissolved: the marriage, the promises, the rules of life they thought were immutable.
Maybe tomorrow would be the time to really talk, to focus every emotion, to understand where the blame ended and the truth began. But that night, with a jar of wine in his hands and Wei Wuxian before him, tomorrow could wait. Life breathed more slowly, more calmly, as if it too had sat at that table with them, ready to let them enjoy the present without haste. The night didn't need to rush, it didn't have to pass quickly: it existed, pure, suspended.
And the wine was to be drunk today, while the world, even if only for a moment, was silent.