Chapter Text
Dying didn’t hurt as much as Jin Guangyao had expected. There was a point, when adrenaline filled the bloodstream and the pain became too much that the body just stopped feeling. What had hurt the most was when Lan Wangji cut off his arm.
Jin Guangyao remembered the burning pain that spread across his body. He remembered the blood soaking into his embroidered robes. He remembered being unable to process anything that happened for a few minutes after as he tried to comprehend what had happened.
By the time Lan Xichen stabbed him Jin Guangyao was in a state of numbness. He’d lost a lot of blood, and despite his small core’s attempt to slow the bleeding, Jin Guangyao knew he was close to death.
When the blade pierced his chest, there was nothing. No pain, no heat, nothing like that. Something inside him had already accepted death and everything sort of stopped.
By the time the temple roof caved in on him, there was nothing left to feel.
The first thing Meng Yao was aware of was warmth. He was warm, he was comfortable and dry. There was a weight on top of him, and when he sluggishly blinked awake, he found himself in a room he hadn’t been in for years.
He was in the Unclean realm. He was in his old room in the Unclean Realm. The room he’d had when he was Nie Mingjue’s advisor.
Meng Yao pushed himself up in the bed, and that was when he realised he had two arms again. He looked down at his hands, clenching them both into fists before laying them flat on his lap. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, finding it full of Nie braids.
“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself.
Was this some kind of personal hell?
He’d heard of spirits getting trapped in memories, of course he had, he’d been a cultivator, he’d gone on night hunts before. But this didn’t feel like a memory. Not really. He had an incredible sense of déjà vu. He had been here before, he’d lived this, but it felt real, not like a memory at all.
He tried to get a grip of his surroundings. His robes were thick, but not exactly high quality, not like the ones he’d gotten used to as the Jin Clan Leader. But they were nice, not like the ones he’d had to wear when he lived in the brothel.
He was wearing his outer robes in bed, and his hair was still in braids, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to fall into bed and pass out before he could change and wash. He was one to overwork himself and sleep wasn’t exactly a priority. It never really had been, even as Clan leader he worked himself too hard.
Qin Su always said he needed to rest.
A-Su… he regretted what had happened to her. He’d never meant to hurt her, he’d never thought she’d take her own life. Once, long ago, he had genuinely loved her. He had thought she would be his key to a happy future. Before he found out about the truth.
They’d been together for years, and whilst they had not been together as an Alpha and Omega should have, Meng Yao had still loved her, in a different, more complicated way. But she was gone now. Or was she?
What was this place?
Meng Yao looked around the room again, and nothing was out of place. Or at least it was exactly as it had been during his days as Nie Mingjue’s advisor. Clothes were strewn on the floor, abandoned cups littered any available space on paper covered surfaces. His scent was ever present, and his meagre excuse for a Nest remained. It was exactly as he remembered it.
Meng Yao shifted forwards in the bed. He supposed he should get up, he should explore this place. For the first time in a long time he moved without pain. Ever since Nie Mingjue had pushed him down the stairs the second time Meng Yao had been in pain. The first time he’d healed pretty well, he was young. The second time it was much more damaging.
But he didn’t feel the familiar twinge in his back.
A knock on his door, made him freeze and fear shot through him. Who could it possibly be? He’d assumed he was alone in whatever memory/dream this was. But now someone was there.
And then the door opened and Nie Huaisang came in.
Meng Yao didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do. Here was the man responsible for his death, for his downfall. He looked young, he looked like he belonged in this time. He looked like his younger self.
His face was relaxed, he didn’t have the certain sadness that always clung to him after Nie Mingjue’s death. His cheeks were still round with youth and he smiled at Meng Yao, an honest to god smile, not whatever fake one Meng Yao had fallen for all these years.
“Meng Yao, you’re late,” he said, waving his fan in a scolding manner. “I got up early just for you, because you said you’d get da-ge to drag me out of bed if I wasn’t on time, and I was there waiting for you. But look, you’re still in bed.”
Meng Yao just stared. For the life of him he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be meeting Nie Huaisang for. He couldn’t figure out what was going on at all.
“Are you unwell?”
Nie Huaisang took a few steps towards him, reaching out and placing his hand on Meng Yao’s forehead. Meng Yao jerked back and Nie Huaisang frowned.
“You are warm… I’ll go get Da-ge.”
“A-Sang, wait—" Meng Yao called, but Nie Huaisang was already running off down the hall. Meng Yao sighed, running his hands through his hair. His head hurt and he felt dizzy. He couldn’t figure out what was real and what wasn’t anymore.
He was confused and overwhelmed. Part of him wanted it all to be over. He’d been so ready for death. He’d been ready for everything to no longer exist, to forget everything and go onto the next life.
Yet here he was, all over again.
“Meng Yao?” a voice Meng Yao thought he’d never have to hear again called out and honestly, he thought he was going to throw up. Anxiety washed over him, making him feel so incredibly warm and frozen at the same time.
He was looking down at the bedsheets on his lap, at his shaking hands, fighting against every urge he had to not look up.
“A-Sang said you’re sick?” Nie Mingjue asked, stepping into his room.
“Nie Mingjue,” Meng Yao said, his voice barely above a whisper as he forced himself to look up. Nie Mingjue was exactly as Meng Yao remembered him. Tall, broad, his forehead creased in an ever present scowl but his eyes were soft.
He looked at Meng Yao like he was still good. He had no idea what had happened between them.
“You look pale,” Nie Mingjue said. “Have you eaten this morning?”
“No,” Meng Yao said.
“Huaisang, go tell the cook to make Meng Yao some soup.”
“Are we not going to the Cloud Recesses?” Nie Huaisang asked.
“We’ll sort that later, for now do as I say.”
“Yes Da-ge.”
“I’m fine,” Meng Yao said as Nie Huaisang hurried off down the hall. “I just… had a bad dream.”
Because what else could it have been if not a long and vivid dream? He was here now, wasn’t he? This felt real. But then again so had the dream.
“You don’t look well, A-Yao. I can always send another to the Cloud Recesses. Although I’d hoped that maybe you’d stick around and pick up on a few things whilst you were there.”
“You wanted me to attend the lectures?”
“I thought that was obvious, that’s why I was sending you to escort Huaisang.”
“It wasn’t,” Meng Yao replied.
“Oh. Well I did,” Nie Mingjue said.
“I want to go,” Meng Yao replied.
“Eat first, bathe, then see how you feel. The Lan don’t expect you until tomorrow anyway, I was giving you travel room for A-Sang to get distracted but no matter.”
“I can make the journey.”
“Don’t push yourself,” Nie Mingjue said, standing up. “You can set off later this afternoon if you feel ready. Is your Heat due?”
“I don’t think so,” Meng Yao said. He couldn’t be sure, not knowing where he was exactly, but he remembered the first time round he hadn’t been on his Heat. Plus he knew he wasn’t sick, just confused.
Nie Mingjue reached out, putting his hand on Meng Yao’s shoulder. Meng Yao flinched and Nie Mingjue’s strong scent turned bitter with concern.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine, I’m probably just tired or something.”
“I hope that’s the case,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ll leave you to your bath.”
Meng Yao didn’t really know what to do. He sat in the bath tub and lazily scrubbed at his skin. Only hours ago he’d been fighting for his life. A fight he’d lost. Yet now he was here, in the Unclean Realm. He didn’t know how to really process what had happened. Or how it had happened.
Everything had felt so real, but now this felt real. It couldn’t have all been one incredibly vivid dream, could it? But there was no way to deny he was alive right now, and there was no way to deny that he’d been here before. He’d taken Nie Huaisang to the Cloud Recesses before. It was all things he remembered. But he couldn’t quite figure out how it was all going to play out.
He got out of the bath and dressed, moving to pack his belongings for the trip. As he was doing so there was a knock at his door and Nie Huaisang walked back inside.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” Meng Yao said, folding his robes and putting them in his bag. Nie Huaisang picked up a hair brush.
“Sit, I’ll do your hair.”
“Nie-gongzi shouldn’t be doing my hair,” Meng Yao said.
“Like that’s ever stopped us before,” Nie Huaisang said. “Come on, we both know how your arms ache trying to braid yourself.”
“You want me to wear braids?”
“You’re a Nie, aren’t you?” Nie Huaisang said. “You’re part of the Clan, you should look like a Nie.”
“Oh,” Meng Yao said, sitting down, Nie Huaisang moved to sit behind him, running the brush through his damp hair.
“You better pack warm, I hear Gusu is freezing this time of year,” Nie Huaisang said.
“Did you know your brother wants me to attend the lectures?”
“He told me this morning,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’ll be nice, we can study together.”
“I’d like that,” Meng Yao said. “I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity to learn more. I thought I’d learnt all I could, with how small my core is.”
“You’re smart, I’m sure you’ll pick up something. The Lan specialise in musical cultivation. You can play an instrument, right?”
Meng Yao opened his mouth to reply but paused. He could play the guqin, but he hadn’t learnt until he’d been accepted by the Jin, when Lan Xichen had taught him. He hadn’t met Lan Xichen yet, not in this timeline, or whatever it was.
“Erm, the dizi,” Meng Yao said. “Not very well, just some folk tunes. I’d play at the brothel sometimes to earn some coins. I… I don’t remember telling you.”
“You must have,” Nie Huaisang shrugged as he separated Meng Yao’s hair into sections to braid.
“Maybe, it’s been so long since I played,” Meng Yao said. He honestly couldn’t remember that far back.
Nie Huaisang braided quickly with practiced ease and secured the little braids. He repeated the process as many times as he wanted before sighing.
“I wish it was this easy to do on myself,” he said. “Sometimes Da-ge doesn’t have the patience to do mine how I want it.”
“He’s a clan leader, he’s busy.”
“I know,” Nie Huaisang said.
“You know you can come to me, I’ve braided your hair before,” Meng Yao said. “If you want something specific you’ll have to teach me.”
“Thank you, Meng Yao,” Nie Huaisang said. “Are you almost packed? Ge wants us to set off before nightfall if you’re okay to go.”
“I just need to pack a few more things, you can go tell the stablemaster to get the horses ready if you want.”
“Okay,” Nie Huaisang said, getting to his feet. “You look better anyway, less pale.”
“Thank you,” Meng Yao said, bowing his head.
He quickly gathered up the last of his belongings, shoving them into a bag before he left his room behind. Again that strange sense of déjà vu hit him as he stepped into the main corridors of the Unclean Realm.
As a visiting Clan Leader, he’d been given guest quarters whenever he visited. It had been a very long time since he’d been in the warren that was the servants quarters. He found himself feeling a little too lost when he tried to think of which way to go, and ended up relying on instinct to take him where he wanted to go.
He tugged his riding cloak tighter around his shoulders as he stepped outside. The afternoon air was cool, and the sky was overcast. It would rain soon, he remembered the first night on this journey the first time around they’d sheltered in a small village inn. They’d be pressed to reach that far now, with this delayed start, before the rain fell.
“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue called, and that’s when Meng Yao noticed Nie Mingjue was standing with the stablemaster. Meng Yao went over to them both, bowing his head.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Much,” Meng Yao said. “Thank you for your concern, I feel a little silly at all the fuss I’ve caused.”
“Nonsense,” Nie Mingjue said. “Everyone is entitled to some rest, and you work harder than most others. I am sure I can find someone else to take A-Sang if you need some time.”
“I’m more than capable of travelling,” Meng Yao said. “We should get going if we want to make any progress. The Young Master will not want to ride through the night.”
“Or the rain, the water will damage his silk,” Nie Mingjue huffed. “I hope this journey toughens him up a little. He wanted to go by carriage but I refused.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
It was then that Nie Huaisang emerged from the stables, the reins of a dapple grey mare in his hand. The mare trailed behind him, nibbling at his sleeve.
“Ge, this horse is trying to eat me,” Nie Huaisang said, yanking his sleeve away. The mare lifted her head and snorted at him, making him cry out.
“She’s a horse, A-Sang,” Nie Mingjue sighed. “They tend to eat things.”
“Horses explore with their mouths, Young Master, I’m sure she just wanted to feel the material,” the stablemaster said. Nie Huaisang scowled at the horse but sighed.
A servant brought out a black gelding, leading him straight to Meng Yao. He offered the reins without a word and Meng Yao took them with a thanks. The gelding sniffed at Meng Yao briefly before evidently deciding he wasn’t interesting enough to warrant a more thorough check.
Meng Yao pet him on his velvety nose, smiling softly. He liked horses. He liked all animals to be honest. They never really judged. Back when he was in the brothel, Meng Yao would take great comfort from a skinny little alley cat that lived nearby. He’d spend hours stroking through her fur.
He’d never had a cat after her, not even when he’d been clan leader. It wasn’t something he’d really considered. Maybe he’d get a cat in this timeline, if things played out better.
Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang eventually mounted their horses and prepared to leave the Unclean Realm. They were bringing a group of cultivators with them, some were older, just intending to escort the group and make sure there was no trouble, and some of them were younger, intending to take the lessons the Lan Clan had to offer.
They set off at a trot, trying to make up for lost time. Nie Huaisang waved back at his brother as they did so, and Nie Mingjue held his hand high in the air and waved until they were out of sight.
The hierarchy of the trip was uncoordinated. As the highest ranking member of the Clan present, Nie Huaisang should have been in charge, but at 16 he was technically barely an adult and he didn’t have the experience or knowledge to make wise travelling decisions.
Meng Yao, on the other hand, was placed in charge of Nie Huaisang’s safety and it was him who’d been asked personally by Nie Mingjue himself to escort Nie Huaisang. As Nie Mingjue’s advisor, Meng Yao should have been the one in charge on the trip.
However, Nie Chen had been assigned to this group by the captain of the Nie guard, and he’d been explicitly told that he was the one responsible for getting the whole party to Gusu safely. Thus, he’d sort of put himself in charge of the group.
Meng Yao was a little frustrated by the young man’s arrogance, and his hatred for the captain had never waned, not even after all these years. Even though his murder had cost Meng Yao everything, he never found himself regretting it, only ever regretting that he’d been caught.
Nie Chen’s decisions so far had all been agreeable, and Meng Yao couldn’t bring himself to challenge him. There weren’t all that many routes to Gusu, and the one Nie Chen had chosen was the safest, and the one Meng Yao probably would have chosen himself.
Nie Huaisang didn’t seem to care all too much about the route, as long as they got there. He was unhappy with the bumpy trot they were travelling at, but both Meng Yao and Nie Chen agreed that they needed to make up for lost time and reach the village to rest for the night.
Nie Huaisang complained for almost all of the journey, and Meng Yao was genuinely impressed with how much he was able to find to complain about. It was a miracle that he could talk so much and not run out of breath.
Thankfully, they did manage to reach the village before the rain started to fall. The sky was dark and thick with clouds, but they managed to get inside just in time. The owner of the inn was incredibly grateful to have so many customers, and Meng Yao handed him several large pieces of gold, given to him by Nie Mingjue, and told him to accommodate everyone’s desires.
Meng Yao still felt confused, he still felt like he was experiencing the past once again, but it was all slightly different. Before, they’d gotten one village over, they hadn’t stayed at this one. But what did that mean?
Meng Yao still couldn’t figure it out. Which part was a dream? Was he dead? Was he reliving his past before he finally moved on? If that was the case, why were things changing?
Meng Yao didn’t have the answers, and no one could help him.
He was hiding in his room now — he’d paid to have one on his own, because he couldn’t bear to share with the guards. Nie Huaisang wanted to speak with him, but Meng Yao had claimed his headache had returned and he wished to lie down.
He didn’t want to talk to Nie Huaisang. He didn’t know how to interact with him. He’d played Meng Yao in his past life, he’d lured him into a false sense of security and now Meng Yao didn’t know how to interact with him going forward.
He didn’t know how long Nie Huaisang had been manipulating him. He didn’t know how long he’d been playing him, how long Meng Yao had been his puppet. He felt stupid looking back, he’d thought he’d been helping Nie Huaisang, he thought he was manipulating him. But it was the other way around all along.
But none of that had happened yet. That might never have happened if everything had been a dream.
Meng Yao’s headache was no longer hypothetical.
He sighed, lying down on the bed. Maybe he’d go to sleep and finally die. Maybe this was all a delusion from pain. Who knew what was real anymore.