Chapter 1: Raindrops in the sky
Chapter Text
Lan Wangji closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the first raindrops of the night fall on his face. Rain had always calmed him in the past. It was cleansing, washing away the dirt and dust of his sins. A silent promise of a fresh start.
Ever since that night, though… that night when Wei Ying had asked him to let them pass, his bloodshot eyes and tears mixing so cruelly with the falling rain, Wangji had come to despise those cold drops thrumming down on cracked soil. What had once been a new beginning was now a memory of regret – a night where they had picked up right where they had left off. Broken-hearted, and souls bleeding dry.
It didn’t help that the scars on his back tightened just a bit more whenever rain was about to fall. Another mocking reminder of his failures.
Why, he pondered, did he have to accompany his brother on this godforsaken journey? Why, of all times, would his brother insist on his company for this particular conference? It wasn’t often that Xichen put his foot down and dragged him along. This conference, however, had been one of those times. He sighed, knowing why – it was one of the big conferences, with all the major sects attending. And with him being the second heir of their clan, it was only so often that he could dodge his responsibilities.
At least, he mused, Sizhui had been allowed to accompany them. Lan Wangji suspected it was simply his brother’s attempt to appease him during their travels. To be fair, it worked. Having his son around was like balm for his tattered soul, soothing and quieting the screaming voices in his head.
Of course, bringing Sizhui had automatically meant that his best friend and sidekick, Lan Jingyi, would tag along. And every so often, when Jingyi couldn’t be bothered to remember their 2549th rule, or when he called for his friend in that loud voice — one he could never lower, no matter how hard he tried— Wangji would see an entirely different man in his place. Sometimes, that laugh would tug at Lan Wangji’s heartstrings like a foolish, attention-seeking child. A laugh so boisterous and happy, so carefree and daring, that he could hear Wei Ying’s grin right through it.
“Ah, Fairy, stop it!” Jin Ling’s voice rang through the forest as he tried to pull his dog out of a puddle. Right – that kid had joined them too, having been at Cloud Recesses when they departed for their journey. He would meet up with his uncles at the conference.
Fairy didn’t listen, instead lapping at the boy’s hands, eager for more play.
֍
Within minutes, the light drizzle turned into a heavy downpour. Soon, they would be soaked to the bone, even their sturdy Lan robes unable to protect them from the cold, hard rain.
“We should seek shelter somewhere,” Lan Xichen murmured, gesturing for their group – the three juniors, four Lan cultivators and Lan Wangji himself – to pack up and follow him. With night darkening their surroundings and rain clouding their sight, they waded through the thick forest, hoping for shelter—anything, really—from the growing storm.
Listening to Jin Ling complain and Lan Sizhui trying to lighten everyone’s spirits, Lan Wangji soon found himself in front of a large gate, surrounded by thick foliage they had been trotting through just moments before.
A residence?
But they were in the middle of nowhere, with no civilization in sight. How…?
He didn’t have time to wonder, as Lan Xichen had already grabbed the iron handle – decorated with a rabbit’s head. How utterly exotic – and pounded on the gates, hoping that the residence’s occupant would grant them shelter for the night.
It didn’t take long for the gates to rattle, and big eyes appeared in the small opening.
“Yes…?” the boy asked hesitantly. His voice was almost inaudible over the loud shattering of the rain, yet his questioning gaze conveyed everything that was necessary. Lan Xichen could easily imagine that a group of cultivators knocking on their door at night wasn’t a common occurrence in such a secluded place.
“Please excuse our intrusion,” Lan Xichen all but yelled to be heard over the pouring rain, bowing deeply. “We are traveling cultivators and seek shelter from the rain.”
At that, the boy’s eyes wandered over them all, taking in their bowed heads, their soaked white robes, and most of all, their forehead ribbons. He had never encountered such cultivators in real life, though he had seen countless drawings of them, hidden away in the corners of his master’s bedroom. Drawings of long, black hair, adorned with elegant silver hairpieces. The telltale forehead ribbon – despite its light color – still contrasted against the pale skin beneath. And wide, white robes – so similar to the ones these men were wearing.
They were good. His master had said so.
The boy nodded and opened the gates wider, beckoning the travelers inside. “Of course. We are honored to offer shelter in such dire conditions,” he mumbled before closing the heavy gate behind the last of them.
They were led across the courtyard, every move carefully observed by the servants of the house. Curious eyes peeked from behind the pillars lining the inner courtyard. They really seemed like a sensation to the people here, Lan Wangji mused, catching sight of a young servant girl dragging her sleepy friend behind her, fussily pointing in their direction. Her excited shouts were swallowed by the falling raindrops.
As if it were the first time she’d ever seen a stranger walk through these gates.
“What are we, aliens?” Jin Ling muttered under his breath, walking to Lan Wangji’s right. Though the boy enjoyed being the center of attention at times, he hated being put on the spot like that. Lan Wangji shared the sentiment.
֍
“I welcome you to our humble home,” the lady of the house greeted them in front of the main building, a deep bow accompanying her soft-spoken words. She was younger than Lan Wangji would have guessed for someone living in such remote conditions – probably the same age as him, if not a few years younger.
“We thank you for your hospitality.” Lan Xichen bowed even deeper, grateful for the shelter they were granted. His robes clung to his body, making his movements much stiffer than they ought to be.
“You must be hungry,” she continued, grace in every movement, in every syllable that left her rose-painted lips. Her demeanor spoke of an old, aristocratic background. Her words were chosen carefully and her eyes elegant – yet hiding something Lan Wangji couldn’t read. The more he observed her, the less any of it made sense.
“I’ll have my servants prepare you a meal and your quarters. Please, follow me.” She gestured toward the dining hall, her servants already hurrying to execute her orders.
֍
Dressed in their dry backup robes, they soon found themselves seated around a large table, bending under the weight of their meals. It was a feast – far too much for the nine people it was prepared for. But several days of travel with only brief breaks had left them hungrier than anticipated. Soon, most of the food was gone, devoured with table manners none of them had been taught at Cloud Recesses. A secret they would take to their graves.
“Zewu-Jun, Hanguang-Jun,” Lan Sizhui addressed them after their meal, the other two juniors following closely behind. “With your permission, we would like to retire.” Even dead on his feet, his son still had impeccable manners. He had always been a good child.
So good.
“Rest well,” Lan Xichen dismissed them with a warm smile. When the three turned to leave the dining hall, Wangji caught his son’s eyes with his own, conveying everything he couldn’t put into words – pride, love… care. He was grateful that Sizhui had learned to understand him without words, to read his eyes much more than his stoic facial expressions.
Lan Sizhui grinned and hurried after his friends, ready to get some much-needed sleep.
“How is your back?” Xichen asked, once the other cultivators had retired to their rooms as well. These were not words meant to be shared in the presence of others.
“Mh,” he answered. There wasn’t much to say – it still hurt. Ever since his punishment thirteen years ago, his back had been his weak spot. The pouring rain—and their recent nighthunt, during which a Bai Ze had slashed his back wide open, digging its claws deep into his spine—didn’t help his condition. Lan Wangji grumbled silently. He despised the new wounds carved into his flesh alongside his old scars – his quiet proof that, at least once in his life, he had stood up for what was right. They had been a constant reminder – every single one of them. All thirty-three strikes. And now… new gashes layered over the old, draped across a memory he had clung to with all his might.
֍
A loud commotion sliced through his mourning like a sword through the clouds above. Footsteps – rushed, careless, and loud despite the silence of the night. Like someone dashing across the courtyard, tumbling over obstacles, crashing into anything and everything in their path. Whoever was running through the residence had the grace of a newborn deer – stumbling and falling, scrambling back up again.
The door burst open seconds later, revealing a man drenched to the bone. His long black hair clung to his frame, water weighing down the loose strands as much as his soaked clothes. He panted, his whole body trembling with effort, still catching his breath, face lowered. His hands were tanned – the result of long days beneath the sun, of hard, manual labor.
It took another second before the man raised his head, revealing wide, grey eyes and a mouth opening in a loud laugh – a laugh that never made it past his lips, stuck in his throat like a sticky ball of rice.
Lan Wangji could only stare.
Those eyes.
That laugh.
And even after thirteen years, Lan Wangji would recognize the man in an instant.
“Wei Ying…”
Chapter 2: Ghost in the mirror
Chapter Text
They had guests?
Here?
How?! What poor soul would end up here?
Wei Wuxian couldn’t think straight as he rushed home. He had been out in the fields all day, about an hour’s travel from his residence. When the rain had first started to break through the sky, he had considered staying outside. The light drizzle on his skin soothed his spinning thoughts, calmed his erratically beating heart. And truly, there wasn’t much to go home to anyway. He often spent the nights outside, staring up at the stars, wondering… wondering and never finding an answer.
With a satisfied sigh, he tilted his head back, letting the drops catch on his cheek, his eyes, his lips. It felt cleansing – washing away the grime and dirt from his body.
It hadn’t always been that way. He had hated rain when he was younger. Having spent many years on the street, rain had meant wet, cold clothes, shivering in the dark, and chattering teeth until he couldn’t feel his limbs anymore.
Now though, it was a silent promise of a fresh start.
Ever since that night… when Lan Zhan had let him go. Had stepped aside to let them pass. Under the thundering rain, his umbrella tossed aside, muddied by bloodied earth. It had felt like the absolution he had never dared to ask for.
When the rain had suddenly stopped, caught by the red umbrella held over his head, Wei Wuxian hadn’t been happy – irritated by the pull back to reality.
“Sir,” his servant had said, eyes full of wonder and irritation. It was an interesting expression to see on someone else’s face. “There… guests have arrived at the manor!”
…
Guests…??!
Of course, Wei Wuxian would run back home, still replaying his servant’s words in his mind. How on earth had guests stumbled upon their residence?
They never had guests. Never!
Apart from that Jin-weasel – who was somehow even worse than his father had ever been – no one ever dropped by. Whether it was because the manor was so far away from any known civilization, or because it was hidden behind layers upon layers of deflection arrays… he still hadn’t figured out. Even after thirteen years of living here.
Though he suspected the Jins had manipulated the land surrounding the manor. Because whenever he had ventured out, trying to find a way to escape, he had ended up back in front of the gates. Running in circles. Over and over again.
Trapped in an elaborate prison.
Only brought out when that Jin-bastard needed him to be the monster the world had believed him to be.
Eliminating. Killing.
That was all, Wei Wuxian was dragged around for. Like the slave they wanted him to be.
֍
Wei Wuxian didn’t care how loud he was. Didn’t care that he crashed into boxes and stumbled up the stairs leading to the dining hall. He didn’t care that he most probably woke the whole compound. Didn’t care that whoever these guests were, they would think him a maniac at best.
He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop his frantic beating heart, his glinting eyes. He had to see!
Had to see the guests that had lost their way into his home!
Excitedly, he flung the doors to the dining hall open – too rushed to catch a glimpse of his guests before he bent over, trying to regulate his labored breath.
In.
And out.
He squinted as he looked up, ready to greet whoever was seeking shelter, his mouth already open to –
He stopped, shocked into silence at the two men sitting at his table.
White robes.
Long, silky hair – the thin forehead ribbon a stark contrast.
And wide, golden eyes starring up at him.
Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan!!!
“Wei Ying,” his name like a prayer on those lips. That whisper heavy with emotions Wei Wuxian hadn’t heard in thirteen years.
But before Lan Wangji could react any further, could do anything other than utter his name in absolute disbelief – Wei Wuxian turned on his heel.
Sprinting away into the night.
Leaving two stumped Lan cultivators in his wake.
֍
Lan Wangji jumped to his feet, his movements jerky and far from the graceful Second Jade of Lan he was famous as.
What… was that really…?
It couldn’t be….
But he would recognize that man anywhere. Even if a hundred years had passed… even if a thousand lifetimes separated them – he would know Wei Ying.
Everywhere.
Every time.
But…
But Wei Ying was dead.
Lan Wangji crumbled to his knees, his elbow hitting the table.
Wei Ying was dead. For thirteen years!
Gone!
Brutally ripped from his arms before he had the chance to embrace him.
Had he finally lost it? Was that it? Had he finally… after thirteen years of grief, of waiting, of replaying inquiry every single night… had his mind finally given up? Succumbed to the suffering of regret and unrequited love?
Hesitantly, Lan Wangji looked up, searching for his brother’s gaze with his own. Pleading. Hoping he hadn’t gone mad. That the remnants of his broken soul hadn’t just conjured up his deepest desire and made it burst through those doors.
What he found, though, wasn’t reassurance. Nor was it surprise.
It was worse.
So… so much worse.
Lan Wangji forgot how to breathe.
“Brother…?” he choked, not even sure what he was asking for.
Because Lan Xichen didn’t look as aghast as he did. His face didn’t reflect the same shock Lan Wangji felt down to his bones.
No.
No.
Lan Xichen looked guilty. Ugly, gut-wrenching guilt and heartbreak screamed at him – from his brother’s eyes, his hunched shoulders, his tilted head.
Guilt.
But why…?
Why would he…?
Lan Wangji couldn’t finish the thought. His stomach dropped. His blood turned into ice as realization washed over him.
Guilt.
His brother felt guilty… and Wei Ying was alive.
His brother felt guilty – for –
“Go…” Lan Xichen had never sounded so insecure as he did in this moment. His voice cracked, his eyes filled with impossible regret.
“Don’t… don’t let him get away…”
And Lan Wangji knew. This was most probably the only chance he would ever get. A chance he never thought possible. He leapt to his feet, running after the man he had loved from the very first moment.
֍
Left alone in the dining hall, Lan Xichen allowed himself to crumble. His hands tore at his hair, long fingers digging into his scalp.
Dear Gods…
What had he done…?
A sob broke from his lips, tearing through the silence like a wolf through prey, echoing from the bare walls. A thousand times louder.
What had he done?
How…?
He screamed. Pain soaring through every fiber of his body.
Wei Wuxian…
Wangji…
And sitting at the table, half-eaten dishes spread before him, the seat opposite of him vacant, his memories came crashing down – drowning him in waves upon waves of sorrow and remorse.
He could still feel the discipline whip in his hands. The ridged leather digging deep into his skin. He could see his brother kneeling in front of him, back turned. Bare and ready to accept whatever punishment the elders had decided upon.
Ready to bear the consequences of his actions.
And yet… never once asking for forgiveness. Never once admitting to the crime he didn’t believe he had committed.
Chapter 3: Thirty-three times, I ask for forgiveness
Notes:
hi there :)
Thank you all so much for the comments, the kudos and the subs! It is a pleasure, writing for you guys <3
A small note for this chapter, and the story as a whole. I am a huge fan of the way MXTX writes her novels, with the story jumping from one timeline to the other, to convey the bigger picture. Which is why I tried the same approach in this story and there are chapters which play in the past and some which take place in the present. Usually, one should know within the first few lines, where in the timeline we are. :) Let me know if it's working <3
Also, trigger warning: canon-typical violence, graphic description of wounds and violence.
Have fun!
Best
Kayuki
Chapter Text
The discipline whip snapped through the air, loud and crackling.
One…
Lan Wangji didn’t flinch when the whip came crashing down on his back.
Two…
Lan Wangji bit his lips, no sound escaping them.
Three…
Lan Xichen felt his hand tremor, hesitation keeping the whip in the air – a second, a heartbeat too long.
Four…
Lan Wangji clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palm.
Another…
Lan Xichen’s chest tightened, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, inflicting pain on his brother.
And another…
Blood. So much blood.
Lan Xichen couldn’t see anymore where the whip would meet his brother’s back. It was blurred red, blood seeping from the open gashes left behind by the whip in his hand.
He was sick to his stomach.
But still, he had another ten to go. Thirty-three in total. He could see Wangji’s pale face from over his naked shoulder, eyes staring into the ground. Empty. Lifeless. Xichen’s blood ran cold at the sight.
Another seven times, he raised his arm, letting the whip lash across his brother’s bloodied skin. Or what was left of it. It was all an open, pouring wound. Flesh mixed with blood and flaps of skin.
Xichen didn’t want to look.
Didn’t want to see how he was crippling his own brother beneath the greedy, silent eyes of their clan elders.
Didn’t want to feel the weight of the whip in his hand—his hand—rising and falling like it belonged to someone else.
But it didn’t. It was him.
His arm. His failure.
Irreversible damage, no matter how high Wangji’s cultivation was. It would take years to heal – if it healed at all. The scars would remain.
Thirty-three reminders, carved into flesh, of how Xichen had been too weak to protect the person he held closest to his heart.
Too much of a coward.
Too obedient.
He had protected Wangji when their mother died – when that small body had curled on the floor outside a door that would never open again. He had held him. Soothed him. Promised him he would never be alone. Never again.
He had protected Wangji when their uncle had punished them for the first time. Had snuck into his bed at night just to hold him until the sobs stopped.
And now –
His arm lifted again – unbidden. Unwilling.
Why couldn’t he protect him now?
Another strike.
Two more left.
He couldn’t look away. Wouldn’t let himself.
He took in every trembling breath, every twitch of pain Wangji refused to voice. Sweat matted his hair to his temple, bleeding into his forehead ribbon. Xichen felt it laughing at him. Mocking him. Them. He wanted to rip it apart.
Wangji’s fists stayed clenched at his sides, white-knuckled with the restraint that had hollowed his soul since birth.
His back – ruined. Unrecognizable.
Xichen burned the image into his memory, branding it into the part of him that still dared to call itself a brother.
Never to forget.
Never to forgive himself.
Another strike.
Wangji swayed but still remained upright. It was sheer willpower that kept him alive.
Xichen’s heart broke further, every time he brandished their clan’s discipline whip.
The last strike.
The last lashing.
And although it wasn’t Lan Xichen who had been punished for the last hours, he still felt weak in his knees, his legs failing to support him any longer. The whip fell from his loosening grip, clattering onto the hard wooden floor. Lan Xichen could not have cared less.
His gaze searched for his brother, still kneeling on the floor. Unmoving and staring into nothingness. And even now, after thirty-three strikes with the discipline whip, he was still the epitome of stillness, of quiet grace and subtle elegance. Still the Second Jade of Gusu Lan, impeccable and pristine.
֍
Months later, Lan Xichen still spent every moment he was allowed by his brother’s side.
The silence had become a second presence in the Jingshi — not peaceful, not meditative, but suffocating. A silence thick with things unsaid, with pain too raw for words. Lan Wangji hadn’t spoken a single syllable since the punishment.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.
And for the first time in his life, Lan Xichen didn’t know how to ease his brother’s suffering. He had always known before. He had cradled him after they had first been separated from their mother, held him through long nights of loneliness when the world had felt too sharp for a child’s heart.
He had been the one to console him when Wei Wuxian had first loosened his forehead ribbon for everyone else to see – causing Wangji to spiral by implications Wei Wuxian had never even thought about.
But now?
There was nothing he could do.
Those days – scattered and sparse – Xichen entered the Jingshi with food he knew would go untouched. He sat, hoping for even a flicker of life – a glance, a sigh, anything to prove his brother was still there.
But all he ever found was silence, broken only by the sound of his own careful breath.
Lan Wangji lay on his stomach, motionless. His back, still an open wound, remained wrapped in fresh bandages changed by healers who barely spoke his name. His arms rested uselessly by his sides.
But his eyes – Gods, his eyes – still held the same unyielding defiance as the day he had raised his sword against his own clan.
Unshakably, terribly loyal.
To protect Wei Wuxian, a man who had abandoned the orthodox cultivation path, losing himself in demonic rites and fierce corpses.
Wangji did not regret a single thing.
Even now, broken and unspeaking, that truth pulsed through him like a second heartbeat.
And Lan Xichen – the one who was supposed to understand him best – didn’t understand. Wangji, always the obedient nephew to their uncle, the most regarded disciple of their sect. Breaking every single rule to protect a monster.
Or – and he barely dared think it – had Wei Wuxian never been the monster they made him out to be? What had his brother seen… that he had not?
֍
Another month passed when Jiang Cheng called for a siege to the Burial Mounds, to end it once and for all. On any other day, Lan Xichen wouldn’t have hesitated a second to follow the call. It was the right thing to do – end the suffering, end the pain.
Finally.
But now?
How could he go against the man his brother had risked everything for?
How could he fight the man Wangji loved with all his soul?
So he stayed, not meeting his uncle’s angry gaze when he made up an excuse to watch over his brother’s recovery. Lan Qiren hadn’t believed him, but for once, he had stayed silent. He only huffed in barely concealed disappointment before leaving the Cloud Recesses to heed Jiang Cheng’s call for battle.
Barely a week later, the news of Wei Wuxian’s death spread all over the lands.
“Wei Wuxian is dead!” joyful cries resounded through the streets of Caiyi Town, hitting Lan Xichen with more force than they had any right to. Ever since his uncle had left for the Burial Mounds, he had expected to hear such news. And yet, hearing it with his own two ears felt entirely different. Deep in his heart, he had known that his absence alone wouldn’t be enough to save Wei Wuxian, and yet… foolish as he was, he had still hoped.
By the time he returned to Cloud Recesses, Wangji was already deep asleep, his head turned away from the Jingshi’s entrance, long braided hair hanging off the side of the bed and calm breath accompanying the steady rise and fall of his back. At least his physical wounds were slowly healing.
With a heavy heart, Lan Xichen decided to return the next morning. It would be best if Wangji heard the news from him. He could only imagine how devastated his brother would be.
Wei Wuxian.
Dead.
Yet, when morning came, so came an urgent call from his uncle, demanding to meet him at once at Lotus Pier and not to let anyone know of his whereabouts. Least of all Wangji. A secret conference.
Had they not enough secrets?
When would it stop? When would the secrets finally stop?
To his great chagrin, he didn’t get to see his brother before his departure – too rushed, too urgent. He could only hope that Wangji wouldn’t hear it from anyone else in his absence. Though, given that he was his brother’s only visitor, apart from the healers who wouldn’t speak to him in misplaced arrogance for his crime, he didn’t have much to worry about. He had time.
Time to think how to convey such sorrowful news without breaking his brother’s spirit even further.
֍
It was only two weeks later, when he returned from the conference with his uncle, his worldview shattered beyond recognition, that he realized – news would travel even through the tiniest cracks of the Jingshi.
He still felt wrapped in cotton as he entered Lan Wangji’s residence, needing to be in his brother’s presence. Even if no words were exchanged, he needed to be next to him. He needed to know that there was still good in this world. Needed to know that not all was lost, not all was meant to fall apart.
He entered, expecting to be welcomed by the eerie silence he had left behind many days ago, when he had still been convinced that justice would eventually prevail. He swallowed hard as he closed the sliding door behind him, still caught in his spiraling thoughts.
“Who is that man, bàba?” a child’s voice cut through his mind like a blade through butter. Lan Xichen’s head shot up – what on earth…?
There was a young boy, barely three years old, sitting by his brother’s bed, dressed in their clan’s heavy white robes – and a ribbon that was far too broad across his tiny forehead. Wangji’s ribbon, if his brother’s bare skin was any indication.
Once again, Lan Xichen didn’t know what to say and could only stare at the sight before him.
“A-Yuan”, Wangji muttered his first words in months, and Xichen relished them, so relieved to hear his brother’s voice again – rough with disuse and much lower than he remembered, but Wangji talked!
Yet before he could really sink into the cushion that was his brother’s soothing voice, Wangji’s next word hit him like a whip: “This is your uncle, Lan Xichen.”
Uncle…?
He opened his mouth to say something – anything, really – but immediately closed it again, meeting his brother’s challenging gaze over the boy’s head.
Don’t you dare. It said. He stays.
And he didn’t. Lan Xichen swallowed the words on his tongue, to be buried forever.
He never spoke a word of the boy that had so suddenly appeared by his brother’s side. He had seen the bunched-up robes in the corner of the Jingshi, the red hems immediately catching his eye.
Wen.
He gathered the boy’s former clan robes, hid the red ornaments within their folds, and nodded his consent. Although he knew Wangji didn’t care for his permission – not when it came to Wei Wuxian, and certainly not when it came to a child associated with him. Xichen wasn’t stupid. He knew who the boy was. There was only one possibility, only one person Wangji got protective of.
Wei Wuxian.
Again.
But Lan Xichen wasn’t his uncle, wasn’t Jin Guangshan or Jiang Cheng. He wouldn’t sacrifice a child for the sins his father may have committed.
With a heavy heart, he gazed at his brother, still lying on his stomach on the bed. It was only then that the red bandages registered in his mind. Why… why red? Why was Wangji bleeding again?!
The wounds had been closed when Xichen had left for the conference. Why…?
His questions came to an abrupt stop as his eyes wandered back to the boy, who was still looking up at him with big, round eyes.
Of course.
That child wouldn’t have appeared out of nowhere in Cloud Recesses.
Wangji had brought him here. His crippled, almost immobile baby brother had brought that child here – most probably from the Burial Mounds. Dear Gods, what else was Wangji willing to sacrifice?
Lan Xichen took a deep breath. Oh, Wangji…
Again, he looked at them – Wangji with the same unrelenting gaze as the day he had received his punishment. And A-Yuan: small and defenseless, vulnerable.
But most of all – innocent.
So, so innocent.
Lan Xichen knew, from that moment on, that he would protect that child – no matter what.
He had been powerless so many times over the last few years, had failed when it had mattered most. He would protect that child. With everything he had. At least once, Wangji should be able to rely on him. He had disappointed him enough.
Failed him enough.
“Hey, A-Yuan,” he smiled down at the boy. “It is nice meeting you. Call me uncle from on, alright?”
That same night, Xichen burned the red-rimmed robes, hidden from prying eyes. There should be no remnants of the boy’s former life. Nothing that could endanger him.
A few days later, Lan Xichen formally adopted the boy into the Lan family, accepting him as his nephew – as his brother’s son.
Lan Yuan.
֍
Later – much later – when Lan Qiren would seethe with anger and demand to know who that child really was, he would look straight into his uncle’s eyes, feeling the same resistance rising in him that he saw in his brother’s eyes, day in and day out.
“He is Wangji’s son, and my nephew.” He answered curtly. He knew what his uncle was hinting at. But he had enough. Lan Qiren had caused enough damage as it was. He would not let him destroy that too.
The boy was family.
Chapter 4: Of Guilt and Justice
Notes:
Hi all
Thank you so much for the comments, kudos and subscriptions :) You made my day!
On to the next chapter <3
Best
Kayuki
Chapter Text
Lan Xichen wasn’t sure what he had expected when his uncle had ordered him to Lotus Pier. But he most certainly knew what he hadn’t expected:
All major sect leaders were gathered – Jin Guangshan, Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng, his uncle, and himself – and in their midst, battered and bruised, chains around his limbs: Wei Wuxian. Alive and breathing.
And looking just as much for forgiveness as Wangji, back home at Cloud Recesses.
“And you call me a dog?” Wei Wuxian bared his teeth. “After you murdered them all? Civilians! Elderly, women – and children, for goodness’s sake! Murderers!” he yelled, his voice hoarse from screaming, tears in his eyes.
“Quiet!” It was Jiang Cheng who delivered the heavy blow, sending his adopted brother to his knees.
Lan Xichen didn’t know what to focus on: That Wei Wuxian was alive, though he’d been declared dead mere days ago?
That he accused them all of murdering civilians – elderly? Children??
He tried desperately to school his features in the blank mask his clan was so famous for – and failed miserably. What was happening? He tried to find his uncle’s gaze – reassurance, something… anything to hint that Wei Wuxian was lying. But Lan Qiren wouldn’t meet his eyes. He only stared, irises blown wide in barely concealed outrage toward Wei Wuxian.
Was…
Was he right?
Lan Xichen couldn’t focus on the discussions around him – the screaming and yelling, the accusations thrown left and right. Sometimes, he registered a snippet: death threats, a hollow laugh, more screaming.
He never found out if Wei Wuxian’s allegations were true. But when he confronted his uncle that evening, another expression had crept onto the man’s face. His posture, everything.
Guilt.
So much guilt.
Lan Xichen knew what guilt looked like. He had felt it for years in every fiber of his own being. Years. He was well acquainted with guilt – horribly acquainted.
But Lan Qiren wouldn’t admit anything. Wouldn’t deny anything either. He simply stood there, back as straight as the stone their rules were carved into – rigid and silent.
Lan Xichen wanted to scream.
The next day brought nothing new – more accusations, more screaming. But this time, Lan Xichen was ready. He wouldn’t stand by without a fight. If not for Wei Wuxian, he owed it to his brother, still lying in the Jingshi – incapacitated for the foreseeable future and confined to isolation even longer. All because he had believed in the man kneeling before them. Because he had believed that Wei Wuxian wasn’t entirely bad – despite his many crimes, despite the killings, the demonic cultivation.
If Wangji was willing to risk it all for Wei Wuxian, then Xichen would trust his judgment.
It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?
But doing the right thing had never been easy – or even attainable.
“Is that why the esteemed Zewu-Jun wouldn’t join the siege?” Jin Guangshan snarled. “Because he favors the demonic path?” A false sense of wonder tugged at his thin lips.
Lan Xichen had opened his mouth to defend Wei Wuxian, to tell them that without him, they would have never won the Sunshot Campaign.
That without Wei Wuxian’s fierce corpses, they would all have perished on the battle field against the Wens.
That without Wei Wuxian’s path of cultivation, none of them would have survived.
“How dare you defend him!!” Jiang Cheng cut in, his face twisted in fury “he killed Jiejie! It was him!! All she ever did was look out for him, defend him – and what good did it do?! He killed her!!”
“He didn’t –“ Lan Xichen’s lips snapped shut, his words choked off. What… ?!
In shock, he whipped around to his uncle – the only one here capable of such a curse. Lan Qiren looked mortified, his eyes hard and accusing. Mortified at his nephew to take the traitor’s side. Mortified at the Lan sect leader for defending a criminal, pushing their own sect in the limelight.
What do you think you’re doing? Lan Qiren’s gaze screamed at him, burning into him like a brand.
“Master Jin,” he finally spoke, his voice strained as he stepped in front of his nephew who had clearly lost his mind – and all because of Wei Wuxian, only a few days' influence enough to undo years of careful balance. That boy had to disappear. It was best for everyone. First Wangji, his most honored student. Now Xichen. Always so level-headed and reliable. A worthy sect leader.
Wei Wuxian had to go.
He had to.
Now.
“The Lan sect does not favor the demonic path. On the contrary, Wei Wuxian must face justice for his crimes.” Lan Xichen could only watch in horror, his lips still sealed shut, as they decided upon Wei Wuxian’s fate.
How they debated over what punishment could possibly match the Yiling Patriarch’s crimes.
How they bickered over who would have the “honor” of delivering the punishment.
Really? You fight for that? His lips were still sealed, but his thoughts screamed louder. And there, in the center, Wei Wuxian knelt, bound and gagged with a filthy old rag.
Lan Xichen didn’t dare look his way.
He had failed.
Again.
The realization settled like a stone in his chest.
“What were you thinking?” Lan Qiren drove into him as soon as they retired to their quarters, his eyes blazing with fury.
“He has not committed half the crimes he is accused of,” Lan Xichen answered, body strung tight and struggling to maintain his composure.
“He has committed enough! Killed enough people, esteemed cultivators, our allies!” his uncle sneered, the words dripping with disdain. “We cannot afford to be associated with the likes of him! We can’t!” and suddenly, Lan Xichen felt as though he’d been plunged into ice-cold water.
No, they couldn’t afford to be seen as the Yiling Patriarch’s ally. They were too vulnerable – still recovering from the war, still rebuilding. Still trying to survive.
And what had he done? Thrown them right into the fire. Exposed, ready to be torn apart if one just wished to do so.
“Do you understand, Xichen?” His uncle’s insistent voice cut through the fog of his thoughts. He could only nod, mute, not yet ready to admit his defeat out loud.
He did understand. Gods, he did… and yet…
“Wei Wuxian is a small price to pay for peace.” Lan Qiren finally mumbled, turning away as if that was all that needed to be said. He left Lan Xichen standing in front of his own room, numb and cold.
Slowly, one by one, the weight of it all crashed over him. He had risked his clan – the very people who depended on him, people he had a duty to protect. He had risked his own family for… for what? Justice…?
But justice was right, wasn’t it…? Then why did it feel so far out his reach?
Why did it feel so wrong?
֍
Three days later – three days of ceaseless arguing and debating, of discussing the Yiling Patriarch’s fate as though it was nothing more than last week’s weather – Jin Guangshan finally growled, “The Jin-clan will take responsibility.”
Silence fell over the hall, all eyes turning toward the yellow-clad sect leader.
“It is us, the Jin clan of Lanling, that has suffered most at his hands,” he declared, speaking over Jiang Cheng’s indignant sputtering. “He has killed thousands of our cultivators – and…” He paused for effect. “He has killed my heir. His own brother-in-law.” A murmur of agreement rippled through the sect leaders.
It was undeniable that yes, Wei Wuxian had killed Jin Zixuan in cold blood. The only legitimate heir of the Jin clan.
“And…” he added, an arrogant smirk playing at his lips as he mustered each of the sect leaders with disdain. “It is only us, that is capable of actually dealing with the Yiling Patriarch. Don’t you think?” He challenged them all, daring anyone to object.
Jiang Cheng knew he was no match for the Jin clan – not with his sect still in shambles, not with his emotions running so raw, and certainly not after what Jin Guangyao had witnessed…
Nie Mingjue regarded him with barely concealed contempt. In the end, he didn’t care who was responsible for Wei Wuxian’s eventual death. He didn’t understand why they had to drag it out for so long, anyway. What was the point?
Though the words burned on Lan Xichen’s tongue, clawing at his throat to open his mouth and say something, he couldn’t speak. Protest! He couldn’t let them sacrifice Wei Wuxian like an offering – but… Lan Qiren’s words rang loud in his ears.
They couldn’t afford…!
He kept silent, refusing to meet Jin Guangshan’s smug gaze.
“Just as I thought,” Jin Guangshan concluded, raising an eyebrow. “Come morning, we’ll leave for Lanling.”
And so, Wei Wuxian’s fate was sealed.
֍
“I am sorry,” Lan Xichen whispered into the dark. Wei Wuxian’s silhouette was barely visible in the shadows of his cell. He had waited until the guards had changed shifts to slip into the dungeon.
“For what?” the younger asked, a bitter smile rippled through his voice. They had removed the gag. “For not standing up for me? For keeping silent? For punishing me? For handing me over to the Jins, of all people?”
Everything.
Lan Xichen was sorry for everything – every choice, every silence, every betrayal. Simply everything. He stared at his feet, hands hanging limply at his side. Useless.
Like the rest of him.
“Don’t be, Zewu-Jun.” Wei Wuxian’s voice was closer now. When Lan Xichen looked up from his boots – like they held all the answers – the man was right in front of him, only the cell bars between them.
“It was the only right thing to do.” He sounded so certain. But was it?
“You have a sect to protect, your family…” Wangji’s name hung unspoken in the cold air.
“And honestly, if I were in your shoes,” Wei Wuxian grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “I would have done the same thing.”
No. He wouldn’t have. They both knew that.
“They’ll declare you dead,” Lan Xichen finally said, breaking the heavy silence between them.
“I know,” Wei Wuxian answered somberly. “But for most people, I am already. I think.” How he knew that, Lan Xichen would never understand. “And honestly, do you really think I’ll live much longer?” Once again, that grin pulled on the younger’s lips, followed by a laugh—loud and shrill, but somehow honest. Real.
Lan Xichen gulped. No, he didn’t. But why did Wei Wuxian have to laugh when saying it?
“But, Zewu-Jun…” Still, Wei Wuxian grinned, bloodied teeth flashing despite the swollen eye. “I have a request. And before you say no…” He wouldn’t have.
“You can’t deny a dying man’s last wish, can you?”
Chapter 5: My name on your lips
Notes:
Hi all!!
Thank you so much for your comments, kudos and subs - you are simply the best <3 <3
Without further ado - let's continue :) I think along the way, a few questions will clear up hahaha
Best
Kayuki
Chapter Text
“Wei Ying!!” Lan Wangji cried into the rain. Why did the rain still fall, as if the sky, too, was mourning? Why did the night still cling to everything, like the years he had lost?
He squinted his eyes, praying to Gods he no longer believed in to clear his vision. He needed to see. Needed to find—there! A movement in the corner of his eye. Faint but there. A dark figure crouched on the rooftop, trying to hide but still watching. Too curious to run.
Would he really?
Without a second’s hesitation, Lan Wangji leapt onto the roof, landing only a few feet away. Soft. Silent. So contrary to the screaming chaos in his mind.
Wei Ying.
Wei Ying!!
Wei Ying jerked back, as if to flee – but froze. A statue carved from fear, or memory, or something in between.
Lan Wangji could only stare. He had lived through this moment in his dreams, a thousand times over. Had begged for it in silence, prayed to the Gods he had long forsaken. And now that it was here, here – Wei Ying in front of him, so impossibly real – he found himself frozen. Thirteen years of mourning, and still, nothing that could have prepared him for this.
Darkness clung to everything, and yet Wei Wuxian looked ethereal—lit by Lan Wangji’s memory alone. He was so close. Just a few feet.
But still too far.
Always too far.
Lan Wangji stumbled forward. He needed to be closer. So much closer.
Wei Ying looked at him, then slowly stood to his full height. His frame was thin – so much thinner than Lan Wangji remembered.
Had he always been this frail? This … breakable?
This fragile?
Lan Wangji searched his memory. No – Wei Ying had been slim, yes. Delicate, even.
But strong.
Not… not…
Not this.
Or… was his memory betraying him? Despair twisted tightly in his chest.
Maybe… after all these years – had he begun to forget? Forget what Wei Ying looked like? Forget the love of his life? The man he would have given everything for…? Still would?
Forget Wei Ying?
His breath hitched, the sound swallowed by the relentless downpour. Or was it his own heart? Loudly beating in his ears, deafening him to everything else.
Forget Wei Ying…
The mere thought was devastating.
Cold raindrops slid down his face, disappearing into the collar of his white robes. Slowly soaking what he had only changed into a few hours ago.
And wasn’t that just ironic? Just like it had always been?
Lan Wangji – dry, clean, controlled.
And Wei Ying, tearing through it all. Undoing everything.
In the end, under Wei Ying’s watchful gaze, Lan Wangji always broke apart.
Wei Ying still wore his hair in a high ponytail. Still bound by a red ribbon – bright as blood.
It had to be a new one.
The image of frayed, blood-stained silk flashed through Lan Wangji’s mind. The original was... it was...
No.
Not now.
But what could he think about? What was there to even think? What…?
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispered, his voice – the same raspy tone – sent shivers down his spine, just like it had when they were younger. Still, it did. The same shivers, the same desire, the same yearning.
The same burning need of want want want.
And suddenly, Lan Zhan was sixteen again, patrolling the rooftops of Cloud Recesses at night. Confronting a younger version of the man in front of him, Wei Ying, how he had tried to sneak in with two jugs of Emperor’s smile.
Alcohol is forbidden in Cloud Recesses.
Now, Lan Zhan mused, he had a dozen jugs hidden in the Jingshi. Stashed away in the small compartment beneath his floor tiles, buried from the world, the real world. He would refresh the stash, replace the old jugs with new ones every few years, meticulously. But for what? For whom?
He never had the courage to admit it to himself.
There had only been one person in his life who would’ve ever enjoyed that drink. And that was…
“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighed, a small smile tugging at his pale lips. Why were they so thin? Why so pale?
“Lan Zhan,” he grinned, his eyes crinkling into small crescents. It was a smile that wouldn’t reach his eyes. Fake – just like Lan Qiren’s supposedly antique vase, after Sizhui had broken the original when he was a child.
It was wrong, so… wrong to see Wei Ying’s lips twist into such a grimace. Yet all Lan Zhan could do was stare. Silent. Motionless. Unable to press a single sound through his numb lips.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmured, and Lan Zhan could have spent eternity hearing it. Eternity, and beyond. How he would press his tongue to his teeth, for the ‘n’-sound, how he would open his mouth wide for every sound – loud, clear, and unmistakably him. The soft velvety ‘zh’s rolling off Wei Ying’s tongue and hugging him with all its warmth, like a world dipped in honey. Thick and sweet.
“Feels like a déja-vu, hm?” Wei Ying’s voice broke the silence — he always had to fill the quiet between them.
“Not in the rain, though, right? I don’t remember Cloud Recesses being this wet.” He paused shortly before rambling on, “but my memory is a little hazy these days, you know.” He laughed, the sound slicing through Lan Zhan like a blade. Hollow and bitter.
“You look good, Lan Zhan. You know that, right? Of course you do! You’re Hanguang-Jun, the Second Jade of Lan. The cultivation world must – “
“What happened…?” Lan Zhan cut in, unable to hold back. Interrupting him.
How rude.
But once the gates were open, it all came rushing out. “Where have you been? It’s been… were you alive all this time? Why…? What…?” He stumbled over his own words, his thoughts in a tangled mess.
“I just… I don’t understand…”
For a moment, Wei Ying’s face flickered with something—stricken—before he forced it back into a faint smile. His eyes though… they glittered with mischief. “Ah, Lan Zhan, those boring old tales,” he chuckled. “Not interesting at all, really. What about you, hu? Tell me, Lan Zhan, what have you been up to, eh? Let me guess, let me guess,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to maintain his playful energy even with Lan Zhan’s face darkening. Trying to keep it light, trying not to let the corners of his mouth tremble.
Trying… always trying.
Why was it so hard…?
“Wei Ying!” The older snarled, his voice sharp, done with the other’s games.
“Ayo… why so serious, Lan Zhan! You are serious enough for the both of us.” He waved his arms through the falling rain, cutting drops in half, splashing them toward Lan Zhan.
“WEI YING!!” Lan Zhan yelled and lightning cracked overhead as if the sky, too, reached for the man before him. His hand shot out to grab Wei Ying’s flailing arm, tightening his grip. Hard.
“Aah… ah!” Wei Ying flinched, instinct driving him to pull away. But Lan Zhan was unyielding, his hands wandering up to Wei Ying’s shoulders. Warm and solid and steady.
Insisting.
“Please,” his eyes softened, searching the younger’s gaze for something – anything – that gave him a glimpse of the man he had loved all his life.
“What happened?” He asked again, raw with pain.
Maybe it was the crack in his voice, or the pleading in his eyes, that broke through Wei Ying’s defenses. Or maybe it was his own suffering. He could only hold out for so long. Especially when it came to Lan Wangji. Lan Zhan.
Because after everything, that man was still his breaking point.
“Where have you been? It’s… it’s been thirteen years.” Lan Zhan’s voice was barely audible over the roar of the rain.
And finally – Wei Ying exhaled. Let go of the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Let go of everything that had held him back, the restrains, the hesitance.
The fear.
He stomped his foot on the slick rooftop tiles, the sound soft but sure. And suddenly too loud in the stillness between them.
“Here,” he said, looking at Lan Zhan as if that explained it all.
Silence, a breath held. Anticipation.
For what…?
“What do you mean…?” he didn’t understand. What was Wei Ying saying?
“I was here. Right… here,” again, Wei Ying stamped his foot for emphasis.
And Lan Zhan’s world titled.
Here…?
All… all this time…?
Lan Zhan looked around, finally seeing.
A courtyard, a traditional residence. High walls enclosing everything.
The closed gate.
The closed gate.
The closed gate he had walked past without thinking twice. Locked behind his back.
It had felt like shelter, like safety – like help in his time of need.
Now, it screamed at him. Loud. Angry. Accusing.
He had marched right into Wei Ying’s prison, with eyes wide open and mind stupidly, stupidly empty.
Chapter 6: Echo at Dusk
Notes:
Hi all
Thank you all so much for your comments, subscriptions, kudos, just everything - you guys make my day <3
Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, but it was rather... heavy, on the emotional side. It took some days to write and then edit.Hope you guys like it!
Best,
Kayuki
Chapter Text
The sky above the Burial Mounds was black, tinted with hints of red and purple – once his favorite colors, beloved memories of sparring under the setting sun, running around Lotus Pier with his friends, hearts full of mischief and youthful joy. But now… they painted the battlefield like a bruise.
A brutal reminder of whom he had become.
The monster.
The traitor.
The demon to be hunted by everyone.
And so, they had come, come for him. Sword by sword, banner by banner – Nie, Jin, Lan – and at their front, Jiang Cheng, leading them all. His purple robes glowed in time with Zidian’s flickering light, a stark reminder of who he was, whom he represented. The Jiangs of Yunmeng. His face was blank, unreadable to anyone who didn’t know him. But Wei Wuxian knew. Had known him all his life.
Jiang Cheng, his shidi, hadn’t come for negotiation. Hadn’t come for peace.
But to end it all. Here. Now.
If Wei Wuxian hadn’t been so exhausted, he might have laughed—boisterous, clear, filling the air with all the bitter memories they’d once shared. But there was no laughter left in him now.
Was there anything left at all?
֍
Swords clashed, screams rang through the Burial Mounds, shrill, echoing from the canyon’s bare walls. Talisman light flared. The earth beneath them trembled with resentment and spiritual force.
And through the blur of the chaos around him, Wei Wuxian caught a flash – Third Uncle.
On his knees, eyes wide in terror. Defenseless.
A Jin cultivator stood over him, a cruel smirk twisting his face, the white peony emblem on his chest – the very symbol of honor and good luck – stained with blood. So much blood.
Time seemed to slow.
The sword plunged down – clean, merciless, and final. Wei Wuxian couldn’t even scream before the Jin-cultivator yanked the blade free, a sickening, wet sound that rang loud in Wei Wuxian’s ears. The peony on the robe bled, matching the red dripping from the blade.
The man didn’t pause, never hesitated as he turned around, greedily searching for his next victim.
But Wei Wuxian’s eyes never left Third Uncle. His breath caught in his throat as the old man’s body collapsed, his hands – weathered from years of peeling radishes for the bitter soup Wei Wuxian had loathed yet always eaten—twitched once before stilling.
Never to peel radishes again.
A hollow ache settled in Wei Wuxian’s chest. He never even learned Third Uncle’s real name. Only "Third Uncle."
A sunburnt, wrinkled face. Warm eyes that crinkled with delight whenever Wei Wuxian flinched at the soup's taste.
A stone lodged in his stomach. A desperate, aching need to bury the mangled body with his own, trembling hands. To mourn, but –
There was no time. Not now. Not even this.
He wanted to cry. He couldn’t even give them that – not even that.
֍
A monstrous roar split the air.
Nie Mingjue carved a path through the fierce corpses like a hurricane – his saber a streak of silver fury, his spiritual energy pounding against the ground like thunder.
His fighting style hadn’t changed. Wei Wuxian had berated him so many times for it – predictable, unrelenting, but… well, effective. Two fast strikes, one wide, then a brutal downward slash. That was Nie Mingjue’s rhythm, always.
Wei Wuxian had stood by his side a thousand times, shoulder to shoulder, fighting with each other instead of against. On the same side of the battle field. Not as enemies.
How times had changed.
His heart clenched as he recognized the pattern — familiar, but now so far removed from everything that Wei Wuxian fought for.
He raised Chenqing to his lips.
He knew what he had to do. It felt like swallowing glass, using that knowledge against him.
But it was for the best. It had to be.
The fierce corpse, once a loquat-farmer from Caiyi Town, surged forward, muscles twisting beneath rotting flesh. Wei Wuxian could feel the strain of Nie Mingjue’s spiritual energy pushing back— a resistance he had expected. He knew how the man fought, knew the pattern like his own, aching heartbeat.
With a sharp trill of his flute, Wei Wuxian sent the corpse into motion, timing the lunge just right—low, when the saber came high.
For a breath, the tide paused.
The corpse held, matching Nie Mingjue’s strength with a strange, unnatural precision.
But it wouldn’t last.
None of it would.
Wei Wuxian stepped back into the chaos, breath ragged, his mind fraying.
He turned around and –
֍
Granny.
Granny.
She was only a few feet away, but it felt like she was miles beyond reach. Her mouth was opened in a silent scream, no sound escaping, her chest stained with blood, the wound gaping wide.
She looked at him, her eyes still clear, still full of love.
But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Not anymore. Her hands were painted red – one clutching her torn skirt, the other reaching toward him.
One last plea.
One last bid.
Wei Wuxian’s feet moved before he even realized it, rushing toward her, barely catching her as her body collapsed into his arms.
“Granny,” his breath betrayed him, no strength left to speak.
Granny.
“My dear boy,” she smiled up at him. But she shouldn’t smile. Not at him.
Never at him.
Not after everything.
Her hand, shaking, found his cheek, with what strength, he didn’t know. Maybe she could feel how much he needed it. Maybe she could feel him crumble beneath the weight of every person he had failed on his shoulders.
Granny.
He rushed to hold her hand in his, pressing it against his hollow cheek, clutching it tightly to not let her slip away. She was still warm, still alive.
But for how long?
His tears mixed with the grime on her skin, sliding over her bony fingers, down her arm.
“My dear boy,” her voice was soft. Too soft. Granny’s voice was never soft – it was a voice made to scold a dozen troublemakers, a voice that carried over the Burial Mounds like the call of an eagle.
“Granny, don’t.” He whispered. He didn’t even know what he was asking for – just… Don’t talk. Don’t waste your strength. Don’t die.
“My dear –“
She choked, her breath faltering mid-sentence. Her eyes emptied, one heartbeat to the next.
No.
NO.
Like glass against rocks, Wei Wuxian’s world shattered into pieces. He sagged, cradling her lifeless body in his arms. His chest heaved with the weight of her death. Weeping, his tears mixed with her blood. Still, he pressed her hand against his cheek.
Granny…
Granny…
He choked on his sobs, his body shaking with each gasping breath.
Where had he gone wrong?
Had he not given everything? Had he not fought like mad to keep them all alive?
Had he not turned his back on his own family, on the man he loved for them?
Why… why was it still for nothing?
Why did they still slip through his fingers like sand?
Why did they still leave?
At once, everything went quiet.
Though the battle still raged on – steel clashing against steel and spiritual energy scorching the air – he didn’t hear a thing. His head felt like stuffed to the brim with cotton, thick and suffocating. The world blurred at the edges, sounds distant and muted. He felt like drowning.
Wei Wuxian couldn’t hear the screams anymore. Couldn’t feel the earth vibrating beneath his feet.
He only saw her.
Her eyes were still open – wide and empty. Staring at something he would never get to see. Gently, with as much care as his shaking fingers could muster, he reached up, slowly closing them. She shouldn’t see the world around her anymore.
Cruel and devastating.
She deserved that much.
Maybe now, she could find peace. Maybe now, she could finally breathe freely, without fear and survivor’s guilt.
With a reverence that felt like a ritual, he laid her down. Folded her arms neatly over her chest, like a prayer. With tears in his eyes, he smoothed down her skirt. It caught on a small rock next to her. He shoved it away in anger.
Nothing… nothing should disturb her final rest.
Carefully, he placed her head on a patch of dry earth that hadn’t yet been stained red. Still pure. His movements were slow, gentle. As if time had stopped just for them.
For a few seconds, it had.
And then –
A wail.
Soft and fragile.
Distant but piercing, like thunder cracking through a clouded sky.
It tore through the fog in his mind with brutal precision.
He whipped around, pulled from the trance of Granny’s final journey.
A-Yuan.
Wei Wuxian’s body jolted, as though yanked violently back into reality.
There – amid the chaos and death, amid the warzone their home had become – stood a small figure, trembling and eyes wide in shock. In horror. His little fists clenched around the grass-butterfly Lan Zhan had gifted him a lifetime ago.
A-Yuan had witnessed everything.
Chapter 7: Where the butterflies don’t fly
Notes:
Thank you all so much for the subscriptions, the kudos and the comments, you made my day <3 it is a pleasure writing with you as an audience :)
I know I broke your hearts - and mine - with the last chapter, and honestly, it will get worse before it gets better :) Bear with me <3
Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian’s breath caught in his throat as he stumbled toward the boy, his mind fixated on one thing. And one thing only.
A-Yuan.
“A-Yuan,” he called softly, voice cracking under a weight that had been too much for him to bear.
The child didn’t move. He stood frozen like a statue, eyes wide, still trained on Granny’s lifeless body lying so peacefully amidst the ruin.
He had witnessed everything.
Everything.
Wei Wuxian’s heart broke at the thought. His small, innocent child.
A-Yuan’s chest rose and fell in trembling little sobs. In his clenched fist, the grass butterfly was crumpled—its green blades wilting in his grip. His treacherous mind flashing the gut-wrenching memory of Lan Zhan’s gently kneeling in front of A-Yuan, handing over the butterfly he had bought. Specifically for him.
Just one peaceful second in a lifetime of war. He would carry it with him until his last breath.
Slowly—so slowly—he dropped to his knees in front of the boy, careful not to startle him, trying to catch his eyes.
“Hey little one,” he whispered, forcing a smile. The motion cut across his face like Zidian once had, deep and burning. But he smiled anyway. He had to.
His hands shook like leaves in the wind as they reached forward, carefully settling on A-Yuan’s small shoulders. “It’s okay… I’m here… I’ve got you… I’m here.”
A-Yuan looked up, even kneeling, he was taller than the boy. He was so small. He blinked, dazed as if just now returning to reality. He rushed forward, burying his face in Wei Wuxian’s chest. Wei Wuxian scooped him up, cradling him against his chest. Never to let go.
Then – he ran.
The battlefield became a blur of red and silver, blood and steel, talisman-light and screams. It all bled together in a smear of violence and grief. It was so loud.
A-Yuan weighted next to nothing in his arms. He was too light. Of course he was too light. In hindsight, bitter soup and dried vegetables weren’t enough to raise a child. Wei Wuxian had taken it for granted, that somehow… somehow it would be alright. Now, the lightness terrified him.
Like A-Yuan would slip through his fingers at any moment. Like he too, would leave for a better world.
Wei Wuxian’s grip tightened, panic swelling in his throat. He didn’t let himself think on it.
There was no time.
He didn’t have much time. And wasn’t that a sobering thought, after everything?
The boy in his arms—fragile and innocent—still had a whole life ahead of him. Wei Wuxian had done everything in his power to protect that innocence. And yet, after all the bloodshed, all the sacrifices… all the souls left behind on the battle field…
He was right back where he had started.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat. Back to square one, only so much worse.
Broken and hollow.
Empty.
There wasn’t a piece of him that hadn’t been shattered a thousand times over. Pieced back together by the fraying thread that was his mind. Not a single breath that hadn’t already burned through him once before.
There was nothing left to give. No more laugh, no more hope.
Just him—cracked and empty.
A-Yuan whimpered – a quiet, pained sound. Wei Wuxian startled. He had held the boy too tightly, crushed him beneath his spiraling thoughts. No. Not that too. Please, not that.
He loosened his hold, gently. The boy’s small fingers curled in his black robes, face buried against his neck, silent and shaking.
Wei Wuxian quickened his pace. He had to hide A-Yuan. He had to save him!
Even if he himself had nothing left – A-Yuan still had so much life left to live! So much laughter, so many firsts. First love. First freedom. First peace. First everything.
He had to live!
The grass butterfly slipped from A-Yuan’s hand mid-stride. He saw it fall – caught the flicker of green in the corner of his eye. Weightlessly tumbling onto blood-soaked earth.
A-Yuan stirred, reaching out over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. His fingers stretched, small and desperate, toward the only gift he had ever been given.
But Wei Wuxian didn’t stop.
Didn’t slow.
Didn’t dare.
I’m sorry, he whispered in his mind. To the wind, to the butterfly, to the child in his arms. To everyone – and no one at all.
Wei Wuxian’s feet carried him to the oak tree beyond the stone ledge – twisted and hollow, dead long before the corpses had risen in the Burial Mounds. Long before a monster like him had set foot in here.
Once, he had hidden talismans in there – his small inventions, talismans to keep his tea warm, or talismans to help with the harvest. Another day, he’d napped against its trunk, the sound of Granny’s scolding voice echoing from the canyon, a far cry from the hellish reality he now faced. It had been a different world back then. Still cruel, but a safe haven for all of them. He had changed, had outlived his innocence many times over. But here, in this ancient hollow, was a faint trace of what once was. A safe place in this dying world.
It had to be.
Exhausted, he dropped to his knees at the base of the trunk, cradling A-Yuan against him for just one moment more. A-Yuan trembled in his arms, the small body wracked with silent sobs that reverberated in his chest. His child – so fragile and broken, still a little boy in a world that had stolen everything from him.
Again, he pulled his lips into a smile, as he brushed the grime and sweat from A-Yuan’s young face. His hair had grown long, Wei Wuxian noticed, tucking a dark strand behind the boy’s ear. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Hey… listen,” he began, drawing out a moment he knew he didn’t have. His mouth felt dry like ash, tongue heavy in his mouth.
“We’re gonna play a game, alright?” he took A-Yuan’s hand in his, catching the boy’s eyes with his own. They blinked up at him, glassy-eyed and trusting. He didn’t get an answer, only a little nod. He would have missed it, hadn’t he been so fixated on the boy.
“Okay, so… we are going to play hide and seek, okay?” he gestured to the hollow tree at A-Yuan’s back. “You are really good at that, right?”
They had played it countless times. A-Yuan was horrible at it, always too quick to come out. Too impatient. But now, Wei Wuxian really needed him to hide.
A-Yuan nodded again, still not uttering a single sound.
“That’s good… that’s really good,” he laughed – he would have cried otherwise. His throat burned. “Now, I need you to hide in here. Just… just for a little while, okay?” He caressed the boy’s cheeks with his thumbs, desperately trying to feel A-Yuan’s skin under his fingertips one last time.
“And remember, you have to stay really quiet. No matter what. No matter what you hear, okay? Like the best little shadow in the whole wide world.”
Still no words. But another nod.
Wei Wuxian swallowed around the lump in his throat as he lifted the boy into the trunk. It was narrow, but deep. Deep enough to engulf A-Yuan entirely. Hide him completely from unwanted eyes. With a few talismans and a bit of spiritual concealment, it would work.
It had to.
Wei Wuxian’s hands shook violently as he layered the charms one by one. A-Yuan’s unwavering gaze never leaving him.
“Xian-ge?” the timid voice reached deep into his chest and pulled at his heart. With all its might.
“Yes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking. His heart had a long time ago.
“You’ll come back and find me, right?”
Wei Wuxian stilled. He couldn’t answer right away. His lungs wouldn’t… wouldn’t cooperate. He bit his lips, hard, almost drawing blood.
With a wobbly smile, he crouched down beside the opening, brushing through the boy’s unkempt, thick hair.
“Of course, my little radish,” he lied with a grin on his lips, his resolve hanging by a single thread. There was no scenario where he would make it out alive. No scenario, where he could come and find the boy.
“And then, we’ll go somewhere nice,” Wei Wuxian added in a voice that was too soft, too hollow. Maybe it was for his own benefit – something to hold onto in the storm he would soon release.
“Somewhere sunny. With flowers, and butterflies. Remember? Like the ones Rich-gege showed you,” and even in his last moments, Lan Zhan was in his mind. He didn’t dare voice the truth – how for him, this was nothing more than a fever-dream. How he would never see that place himself, never see A-Yuan again.
The boy’s eyes glinted in delight, what a wonderful place, Xian-gege spoke of!
Slowly, Wei Wuxian leaned in close, their foreheads touching.
“You and me,” he whispered. “We’ll see the world.”
A-Yuan’s eyes shone like the day Lan Zhan had gifted him the butterflies. His small hand reached up, fingers trembling, and with a trust that made Wei Wuxian’s heart splinter, he stretched out his pinky.
“Promise, Xian-gege?” the words were so innocent, so simple. Yet their weight was suffocating. With wide eyes, he stared at the tiny finger. Asking for a promise he knew he wasn’t able to keep.
His hand moved before his mind could stop it, curling around A-Yuan’s pinky, as he had done a hundred times before. For food, for a game, the promise to visit the town at the foot of the mountain.
He pressed their hands together, their fingers wrapped in a tight knot of grief and trust and a lie only one of them was aware of. Cruel and silent.
“… Promise,” he choked out, a thousand more pressing against his throat. Never to be spoken.
Wei Wuxian pulled away, one last, lingering glance at the hollow where A-Yuan would remain. The boy’s wide, trusting eyes were forever burned into his memory, and for a moment, he thought to stay. Wanted to stay. Curled around A-Yuan, forgetting the world around them.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
The final talisman fell into place with a quiet hum, shimmering faintly before vanishing into the dark.
It was time.
He turned around and sprinted back the way he had come from. Far… far away from A-Yuan and right into the chaos. He ran as far as he could, as fast as he could. Leaving behind the one thing worth saving.
Then – he screamed.
His cry tore through the night – raw, defiant. Reverberating through the battle-scarred air like a bolt of lightning.
He raised Chenqing to his lips.
The first note rang out, and the corpses stirred.
His power surged like a wave, resentful energy crashing outward in every direction.
“Come on!!!” he roared, daring them all. This was what they had come for in the end.
The cultivators turned like wolves scenting blood.
And Wei Wuxian ran.
Straight into the fire.
And while he ran, every step felt like a mile – a mile he put in between them and A-Yuan. He had been long lost, doomed from the day he had given up his core to save his brother.
But A-Yuan…
A-Yuan deserved a second chance.
A chance to survive.
A chance to live…
Chapter 8: Ashes of the living
Notes:
Hi all
Thank you so much for your comments, your kudos and subscriptions <3 I know last chapter was rather heavy and I am sorry to say, but this chapter won't be any lighter ^^' We'll get there - but my darlings need to suffer some more first :)
Have fun <3
Kayuki
Chapter Text
“– st blood” – “stabl – “
Why was it so loud?
Wei Wuxian wondered through the fog in his mind. Voices… so many voices, screaming. He felt like his head was exploding.
Why was it so loud?
And soon, darkness consumed him once more.
“ – kes up!”
It was still impossibly loud. Why was it so loud??
Wei Wuxian wanted to strangle whoever thought it acceptable to yell in the afterlife. His head was pounding, and surely, they deserved better than this. He had to go find Granny and Third Uncle and all the others and muffle their ears. It was time for some peace and quiet – if not in life, then at least afterwards.
Still, his eyes were impossibly heavy. But really, he had to find Granny and the others. They couldn’t be that far ahead – he had followed almost right after. That stupid cliff. Who would’ve thought that a cliff would do him in?
Him, the feared Yiling Patriarch?
One missed step and – done. Gone. Puff. Like the monsters in children’s fairytales. Though he couldn’t remember much after his fall. Only pain. So, so much pain. And then… nothingness.
Until that godforsaken noise.
Wei Wuxian forced his eyes open – and froze.
Wait.
Wait!
He blinked, and blinked again.
This was not the afterlife, he realized with a start, still staring at the all-too-familiar ceiling.
This was Lotus Pier. His childhood room at Lotus Pier.
What the –
Wei Wuxian leapt to his feet, only to be pushed back down by the Jiang clan’s physicians surrounding his bed.
“Don’t move,” Jiang Guo, the head physician, murmured, holding him down with a single finger to his pressure point.
What was happening??
Frantically, Wei Wuxian scanned the room, trying to make sense of it all.
Why was he not dead? Why was he here? Why – and then, in the far corner of his room, almost hidden by the door, stood Jiang Cheng. Tall, dressed in his clan’s signature purple robes, and glaring at him. But there was something else in his eyes.
Something… something… but Wei Wuxian couldn’t understand any of it before succumbing to unconsciousness once more.
He drifted in and out of darkness.
Sometimes, he would see Jiang Guo lean over him, mumbling something under his breath. Sometimes, he would wake at night, just for a few minutes before slipping under again.
Time was a foreign concept, washing over him like water. Unreachable. Unknowable.
It was dawn when Wei Wuxian regained consciousness again – the faint flicker of light through his eyelids was clue enough. He didn’t need to open his eyes to feel Jiang Cheng’s presence behind him, sitting next to his bed. Now that he knew where he was – though why, he still didn’t understand – he had tuned into the familiar energy signatures around him. His brother… Jiang Guo… Jiang Tao, his brother’s most trusted advisor after the Sunshot Campaign… they would all hover over him. Angry and disappointed, but somehow… still helping.
Wei Wuxian didn’t understand.
He wanted to ask why they were doing this… what they wanted. Jiang Cheng hated him, and yet… why was he here? Sitting next to his bed, brooding and angry, but still the silent support he had always been – just like when they were younger, and Wei Wuxian, had suffered from Zidian at Madame Yu’s hand, again.
The door opened, cutting through his thoughts all too abruptly. So, no questioning today, Wei Wuxian decided, continuing to fake sleep. It was easy, with his back turned toward the door.
“Jiang-gongzi,” Jiang Tao murmured, staying in the open doorway. “Your order has been executed.”
What order?
“No survivors then?” Jiang Cheng asked gravely, though by his tone, it was clear what answer he expected.
“None, Jiang-gongzi,” came the equally calm reply. “The Burial Mounds have been burned down, as per your order.”
What?
Wei Wuxian’s eyes flew open. His back going rigid, though no one seemed to notice.
The Burial Mounds… were burned down?
When?
And was…?
“Good.” Jiang Cheng’s voice sounded satisfied. Almost… pleased. Wei Wuxian felt sick to his stomach.
“So, this is the end.”
This was the end.
A-Yuan.
Not long after, Jiang Cheng left the room, closing the door behind him. Alone and cold, Wei Wuxian exhaled a shacky breath.
His child.
“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian whimpered into the stillness of the room, his nose clogging, his throat dry.
“A-Yuan,” he sobbed as quietly as possible, unable to hold back anymore. His son. His child.
He curled into himself, trying to hide from the day that was about to break. The sun shone through the blinds, blinding his eyes – a mocking reminder that no, the world did not mourn for the Wens. Not even for a sweet, innocent child like A-Yuan.
A-Yuan.
֍
He couldn’t say how much time had passed when he was thrown out of bed the next time.
Was it days?
Weeks?
Months, even?
But Wei Wuxian didn’t care. What for? Everything he had ever fought for – everyone he had ever tried to protect – gone. Left.
Killed. By his own hands, even.
Or simply by association with him.
What did it matter anyway?
With his feet bound and his hands in shackles, he was dragged in front of the sect leaders – Jin Guangshan, Nie Mingjue, Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen… and of course, his dear brother.
Looking into their faces – all high and mighty, and so, so disgustingly righteous – he couldn’t help the way the anger burned its way through his heart.
It wasn’t him that had killed A-Yuan… it wasn’t him.
He had killed a thousand others, had left his sect against his brother’s wishes, had turned his back on the orthodox cultivation path – and he was ready to take these sins to his grave.
But not… not A-Yuan.
Not his child.
He had hidden him – had protected him – with everything he had.
But they… they…
He felt the bile rise in his throat, the taste of bitterness so strong he almost choked on it. Looking into those eyes – brown, golden, black. Eyes he had once respected, had once trusted. But now… they were nothing but shadows of his past, traitors dressed in robes of virtue.
He growled, eyes turning hard: “Murderers.”
Chapter 9: Beneath the Weight of Silence
Chapter Text
“You’ve got some nerve, Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng snarled through the bars of the dungeon where he had thrown his adopted brother.
“Me?” Wei Wuxian laughed, bitter, still nursing the black eye Jiang Cheng had given him just a few hours ago. Seeing as the previous one had just healed, Wei Wuxian was still a bit sullen about it.
“Yes, you!” the younger bellowed, unable to hold in his anger. He had been angry for so long he couldn’t even remember when it had started. So much had happened, so much had broken between them.
Nothing left to amend.
“Me…” Wei Wuxian sighed, exhausted and empty. He looked tired, now that Jiang Cheng looked at him. Really looked at him. As though he hadn’t slept in weeks, maybe even months. When was the last time he had looked at his brother?
Probably…
Probably…
The realization hit harder than he liked to admit.
Probably before Wei Wuxian had defected from their sect. Maybe even before that. He had always loved him, somehow – in that strange, sarcastic way of his. The way that Jiejie had always admonished him for, and still let go with an exasperated half-smile on her lips. Her eyes told him exactly how much she knew of his brotherly love. How she would never understand how his mouth would say one thing, but his heart mean another entirely.
“Look, Jiang Cheng,“ Wie Wuxian’s quiet voice cut through his thoughts, impossibly loud in the silence of the cell. “Is that all you came to say? ‘Cause really… I’d like to get some shut-eye before they drag me out of here.”
They – the Jins. The one clan, apart from the Wens, they had never warmed up to. Those ostentatious bastards. Jiang Cheng’s blood boiled at the thought of handing Wei Wuxian over to them. Another thing he was angry about.
Angry.
Always, always angry.
“I hope you get everything you deserve,” he spat, not knowing what else to say. With Wei Wuxian, his tongue was always tied, always saying the exact opposite of what he wanted to. Frustrated, he turned around to leave the dungeon. Leaving his brother behind.
Again.
If only Jin Guangyao hadn’t seen him. Then everything… everything would have been different.
He could have – no. No… no! He couldn’t think about that. Not anymore. It was done. There was nothing he could do anymore.
Wei Wuxian would leave at dawn, facing the consequences of his actions. As was right. As was just.
But somehow, no matter how hard Jiang Cheng tried, his gut couldn’t stop clenching at the thought. His brother, no matter how derailed he had become, was still his brother… in the hands of Jin Guangshan. To be tortured to the brink of his sanity, to be ridiculed, humiliated.
His heart filled with anger. So… so much anger.
֍
“You’ve always been a troublemaker, kid,” Jiang Guo’s exasperated sigh found him an hour later, accompanied by a small pouch that he threw through the bars.
It was pure instinct that Wei Wuxian caught it. “Ah, Jiang-gongzi, tell me something I don’t know already!” He chuckled as he inspected the qiankun pouch Jiang Guo had thrown his way. Curiously, he furrowed his brows.
“What’s that?” he finally asked, looking up at the man who had nursed him back to health ever since he had entered the Jiang household all those years ago.
“A core simulator,” Jiang Guo answered quietly, careful not to alert the guards outside the dungeon. He was lucky that they didn’t question his late visit to their prisoner. “We use it to train our junior medics.”
Wei Wuxian’s face paled instantly.
What was Jiang Guo saying?!
He gulped, trying to laugh it off, but Jiang Guo could hear the strain in his voice, the nervous hitch that caught in his throat.
“Don’t be silly – why would I need – “ Wei Wuxian didn’t get to finish his excuse, as Jiang Guo leveled him with a stare that made his insides shrivel up. Like all those times the head physician had scolded him as a kid.
Like he knew everything. Everything that was important… everything that Wei Wuxian didn’t want him to know. Never wanted anyone to know.
“I won’t ask any questions,” Jiang Guo stated, his heavy arms crossed in front of his bulky chest. “With that ill-placed hero-complex of yours, you won’t tell me anyway.” And apparently, he still knew Wei Wuxian like the back of his hand. Like all those years ago, when he had scolded him for taking the blame for Jiang Cheng.
Again.
Wei Wuxian grumbled. Of all physicians, why did it have to be Jiang Guo who would patch him back together? Of course, he would realize. Would uncover every secret, Wei Wuxian ever wished to keep.
“Does anyone else know?” He had to make sure.
“Who do you take me for, brat?” Jiang Guo exclaimed in mock offence. “You’re lucky, though, that your brother is as blind as a mole when he’s angry.” And was there ever a time when Jiang Cheng wasn’t seething with fury?
Brother.
There weren’t many people who still saw them as such. Jiang Cheng included.
Wei Wuxian felt a lump in his throat, unable to utter a single sound.
The silence stretched heavily between them.
“Since when, though?” Jiang Guo finally asked, a question that had burned on his tongue ever since the horrific discovery.
Wei Wuxian gulped, trying to force the lump back down. Was there even an answer to that? It had been so long… it felt too long. And yet, not long enough.
“After the massacre,” he whispered, shrugging to keep himself from drowning in the pain of his memories.
Cautiously, he watched Jiang Guo, careful not to let any of the man’s emotions slip past him. It was the first time he had told anyone. And it would probably be the one and only time. He wanted to savor every second, as masochistic as it felt.
He saw how the wheels in Jiang Guo’s head were turning, how his face paled, drained of any color. He must have pieced together the timeline, Wei Wuxian thought. The slip-up was short-lived. Jiang Guo had excellent control over his face. He composed himself again, nodding toward the qiankun pouch still in the younger’s outstretched hand.
“It should last you some time, at least ten years.”
Wei Wuxian cackled, unable to help himself at the prospect of being alive for another ten years. “Ten years? Aren’t we a bit too optimistic about my remaining life span?” Jiang Guo only shrugged in response, prepared for the younger’s fake light-heartedness.
“The Jins are not good people,” and wasn’t that the understatement of the century. “They will not let you go that easily.”
Over the next thirteen years, Wei Wuxian would often reminisce about that particular conversation. Jiang Guo had been right. On more counts than one.
֍
Lan Xichen looked pale. Paler than he had ever seen him. Sickly pale, not the beautiful, jade pale he and his brother were so famous for.
Wei Wuxian knew, deep down, that Lan Xichen hadn’t had much of a choice. Not when it came to him anyway. And even with the death sentence looming over him, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at the older man.
Not when he looked at him with eyes so similar to Lan Zhan’s. Not when his heart cried out so desperately, not when he pleaded for forgiveness in every breath he took.
Wei Wuxian had forgiven him a long time ago. His last deed toward Zewu-Jun, he liked to call it. Though… there was one thing he still had to ask. One thing he wanted to request.
His last request to Zewu-Jun.
“You can’t deny a dying man’s last wish, can you?” he grinned through his teeth, darkened by the dried-up blood he hadn’t had a chance to wipe away.
Lan Xichen only stared at him – at the blood on his clothes, or on his teeth, Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure. He shrugged it off. That wasn’t important now. What was important, though…
“Don’t tell him.” And wasn’t it ironic that he didn’t need to specify whom he meant? For they only ever talked about one person anyway.
Lan Xichen continued to stare, his brows furrowing slightly. It was an ugly look on such a beautiful face and for a short moment, Wei Wuxian wanted to berate himself for putting it there. But he had to make sure.
Had to make sure that Lan Zhan was safe. Far away from the mess he had created. Far away from everything that had ever been him. It was the only thing that mattered at this point.
Lan Zhan had to be safe.
Wei Wuxian had failed at everything else, had lost everyone else. Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Third Uncle, Granny… and A-Yuan. A-Yuan.
He couldn’t lose Lan Zhan too. Even if Lan Zhan had never been his to lose in the first place, but – righteous, just Lan Zhan… Wei Wuxian knew that if Lan Zhan caught wind of what had actually transpired in the Burial Mounds, he would never let it go.
He was too good.
Too upright.
And for once, it would be his downfall. He would be sacrificed like the rest of them. What was one more man? What was one more death? Wei Wuxian couldn’t – wouldn’t let that happen.
Lan Zhan had to be protected from his own self. His own morality.
“Don’t ever tell him, please,” Wei Wuxian pleaded through the bars of his cell.
Lan Zhan was the last one. The last one still somehow connected to his own, treacherous self.
Lan Zhan was the last one Wei Wuxian had ever loved.
“Zewu-Jun,” Wei Wuxian begged, his voice rough. He couldn’t have Lan Xichen just stand there. He needed him to make that promise.
He didn’t have much longer – by dawn, Jin Guangshan would drag him to Lanling, and who knew what awaited him there? Torture… death... And yet, it couldn’t be worse than what he had already gone through. His body ripped apart, his soul shredded by his own mistakes. Lan Zhan’s safety was the only thing that kept him sane. The last bit that kept him human.
Lan Zhan…
Lan Zhan!
He was the lifeline he clung to, when drowning in the depths of his regrets.
Without Lan Zhan, there was nothing left.
Nothing.
“Please… please,” Wei Wuxian whispered, his body shaking as he leaned against the bars.
Because Lan Xichen was the only one who could keep Lan Zhan safe. Was the only one who would care enough to do so.
“He will not hear it from me,” Lan Xichen finally said, voice low and still watching him with that frown on his forehead, worry edged deep into his eyes. Wei Wuxian wanted so desperately to smooth it out.
He was not worth such sorrow.
Silence stretched in between them, heavy and filled with words left unsaid. Lan Xichen didn’t speak again, simply nodded before turning to leave.
And as he watched him walk away, walk back into the light, Wei Wuxian’s heart lightened.
Lan Zhan would be safe.
Now, that everything fell apart, Lan Zhan would still be safe.
Chapter 10: Pawns in a Game of Kings
Notes:
Hi all
Thank you so much for all youc comments, kudos and subs <3 you guys are the best! I am so sorry that I took so much time for this chapter - I am in the process of moving and it's a bit cumbersome >.<
But now, I've finally finished this chapter! Hope you'll like it :)Best
Kayuki
Chapter Text
It was still dark when they came for him. Quiet. Brutal.
No name. No warning.
Just rough hands, the scrape of shackles, and the clink of a chain thrown around a body still not fully put together. Wei Wuxian didn’t resist.
What for?
It was all for nothing.
Everything that had ever mattered lay on the ground of the Burial Mounds – burned beyond recognition. He, too, had left his soul behind, shredded into pieces between the corpses. The rest of him was ash pretending to be flesh.
The mist still curled low over the water. His sleeves were damp with dew, his robes too thin, too lose around his shrunken frame. Food had long been an afterthought in the Burial Mounds.
His sword was gone – though only decorative by now, he had always liked the feel of its sheath knocking against his thigh with every step. Its rhythm a quiet reminder of the man who had gifted it to him. A man who had believed in him – in his skills and most importantly, his heart. How disappointed Jiang Fengmian would be now.
At last, he had amounted to nothing. Just like Madame Yu had always predicted.
Wei Wuxian was too exhausted to smile at the thought. She had been right all along, hadn’t she?
He was nothing. Once the head disciple of Yunmeng, now… a war price. Like a cheap whore.
A peace offering.
In the distance, he heard the shattering of Chengqing – like glass underfoot. Clean and final. The silence that followed was worse than the screaming of a thousand corpses. Wei Wuxian had to remind himself to breathe as his heart shattered along with his last companion.
Not for long, something whispered inside of him.
It would all be over soon.
֍
The road to Lanling stretched for days.
Wei Wuxian was conscious for half of it – still gagged, still bound. Not that he had the strength to attempt an escape. His body was barely held together by sutures, bandages, and a core that was as fake as his death at the Burial Mounds.
Between the guards’ shouts and the rattling of the carriage, Wei Wuxian sometimes wondered if Jiang Cheng had ever suspected anything – the little device nestled beneath his ribs whispered away at him, another lie he hadn’t asked for.
He didn’t ask questions when they arrived. No one would have answered them anyway.
The sealing was done in a courtyard with gold-painted talismans, and Jin Guangshan watching from his peony-carved throne. They didn’t even remove the gag until the first talisman began to glow – and by then it was too late. His voice came too broken, too hoarse.
They sealed everything.
Not just his spiritual energy. Not just the phantom ache of a core he didn’t have – the simulator just convincing enough for them to believe he still had one.
No, it was something else.
Something deeper. More sinister.
The thread of resentment he had once called like an extension of his own grief – gone. Snuffed out like a candle in a windless room. He hadn’t realized what they had done at first. Not until he called for them.
Again.
And again
And again…
Only to understand, at last, that no one would answer.
The corpses had been put to rest.
It should have hurt when they carved out his soul.
It hadn’t.
֍
The robes were red.
Blinding, bleeding red.
Wedding robes that burned into his skin, scorching hot, and leaving behind scars only he could see. When they slipped them over his shoulders, he felt bile rise in his throat.
He doubled over and vomited onto the silk.
It was too red.
Too much a reminder of Granny’s blood dripping onto the ashen soil of their home. Of white peonies stained with Third Uncle’s life. Of A-Yuan.
They cleaned him up, redressed him, and said nothing.
They placed her hand in his. Her fingers trembled like feathers in the wind, her eyes filled with fear as she looked up at him.
His own… cold.
Dead.
He felt her clammy hand in his, but he saw another – pale, elegant, so much stronger. Fingers calloused from the guqin’s strings. Fingers that had once bandaged his own beneath the moonlight of a mountain cave.
He saw white robes, pure and pristine. Not red. Never red. A forehead ribbon he had touched one too many times without permission.
Heard a name he had spoken a thousand times – laughing, teasing, never serious enough – and now would never speak again.
Lan Zhan.
Wei Wuxian had never believed Lan Zhan could love him. Not really. Not someone like him – loud, chaotic and a monster of his own making. Everything that Lan Zhan stood against.
But still…
If he could have married anyone, ever…
It would have been him.
֍
They shipped the newlyweds off not long after. A remote residence, tucked between hills no one cared to name, where trees grew too tall and the silence settled too thick. In the middle of nowhere. No one but them for miles and miles on end.
The air was still when Wei Wuxian stepped through the gate of his new prison. It felt like the universe held its breath, waiting for chaos to unfold.
But Wei Wuxian only looked around, cataloging every stone, every tile.
He didn’t have the strength for chaos anymore.
The universe exhaled, and the gate closed behind Wei Wuxian and his new wife.
The residence was beautiful – in a cold, ornamental way. Yellow peonies painted at the bottom of every door, on the edge of every wall – subtle, yet mocking him out loud in the quietness that was their new home. Red-lacquered beams. A koi pond in the inner courtyard. And a white wall enclosing it all.
But the worst part was not the residence itself. It was the feeling of countless eyes on him. Always watching. The maids, the servants. Spies.
Eyes of Jin Guangshan.
Silent sentinels to remind Wei Wuxian of his place in this game.
It was only years later that he would find allies among them. Years before he realized that he wasn’t the only pawn in Jin Guangshan’s warped theatre.
They all were.
And sometimes, one pawn could help another – without the king noticing.
Back then, though, he felt like the only one on the board. Alone and powerless.
He slept with baited breath for years.
֍
He learned her name a year into their marriage.
Looking back, it seemed absurd. How they had scurried around each other like squirrels dodging the same hawk.
She, because she knew who he was – the Yiling Patriarch, the monster, the murderer of the Jin heir.
He, because he thought her a spy like all the others. Another soul assigned to keep him in line, to suppress what little was left of him.
But when they finally spoke — really spoke — it wasn’t much.
It didn’t need to be. It was enough to understand they had both misunderstood one another.
“I was never meant to be with you,” she whispered one sleepless night in the dining hall, both of them cradling their own midnight snack in their numb fingers.
Between dried-up chili sticks and leftover baozi, he realized: she too was a war price. Just a different kind.
She came from a lesser Jin branch. Her father, once favored, had fallen from grace after a minor disagreement with Jin Guangshan. The punishment had been swift — her, dragged from a convent, screaming. Her father, executed. In that order exactly. Her father should watch his daughter being thrown to the proverbial wolf.
Marrying her off to the Yiling Patriarch had been a statement.
See how even your blood can be bent to my will. Right before he ordered her father’s head to be separated from his body.
And for a man like Wei Wuxian – one so prideful, so free – what greater punishment could there be?
Except by now, Wei Wuxian had no longer the strength to care.
Jin Guangshan was three sacrifices too late.
So, one meal after the other, one mahjong game at a time, they built an understanding. It wasn’t love, it was companionship. A shared, cruel fate.
Two ghosts under one roof.
Two pawns in the same losing game.
֍
Peace, Wei Wuxian had learned, was always temporary.
Sometimes, they came for him. It wasn’t often – but it was often enough.
They would come at night. Drag him from his bed. Hands bound. Power unsealed.
Orders given.
He did what they asked of him. What choice did he have?
He was a dog on a leash.
Sometimes he didn’t even know who it was they wanted him to kill. Just a silhouette. A shadow. Pointed out and erased.
Other times, he knew their names. Their faces. Looked into their eyes as they recognized him.
He longed for the nameless ones.
The war was over – and still, Wei Wuxian was fighting.
Still killing.
Still the monster they had made him out to be – even in death.
It was tragically ironic.
And when he returned, sometimes at dawn, sometimes several days later, his powers were sealed again. His body just as useless as the day he had walked through those gates for the very first time.
His wife never asked what he had been asked to do. Never asked where they had dragged him off to. But the bathwater was always warm. The towels always soft.
֍
Jin Guangshan’s body was already cold, when Wei Wuxian learned of his death. And for a heartbeat, a single breath, he felt hope.
Was this… was this finally the end?
Would they be free?
Jin Guangyao visited their residence a week later.
Smiling. Gentle. Warm.
Somehow — with a naïveté he should have left behind in the cave at Mount Muxi — Wei Wuxian expected him to be surprised to find them there. After all, no one else knew Wei Wuxian was still alive. Only the ones who came to seal and unseal his powers – and Jin Guangshan himself.
Somehow, he expected Jin Guangyao to be horrified at his discovery, to not understand what had happened. To open the gates and say, Go home.
He spoke softly to the servants. Called Wei Wuxian’s wife by her name.
And for a brief moment, Wei Wuxian was lulled – by his soothing voice, his honeyed words, his kind eyes.
But Jin Guangyao didn’t break the chains. He polished them. Gilded them. Made them quieter, subtler — and so much tighter.
He continued the cycle with the grace of a man who believed himself benevolent. But his orders were worse. Sharper. More calculated. He smiled as he gave Wei Wuxian killing orders – his eyes cold as ice, his teeth white as snow.
His control was absolute. Over himself. Over Wei Wuxian.
Merciless.
It took Wei Wuxian too long to realize: Jin Guangshan was a tyrant.
Jin Guangyao was a master.