Chapter Text
There is hope in the land of ruins
In the village of old enemies
Who have come to join hands for they share the knowledge:
Compassion is the measure of a man.
It won't bring back lovers and friends,
But it might make for a happier end.
1. Shock. Intense and sometimes paralysing surprise at the situation.
It starts with a knock on the door to the Hanshi.
Xichen is not surprised by it; during his seclusion Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi had brought him his meals and done their best to be kind to him, and since he has officially left seclusion, they have continued to try and keep tabs on him. They drop by, sometimes individually and sometimes together, in a manner they probably believe seems casual and unplanned, to talk to him or ask his advice or take tea. It's well-meant, so Xichen doesn't mind, and it doesn’t matter so much that he does not have warning for it, as, even out of seclusion, he does very little these days. Mostly he helps with sect paperwork, or copies out texts like a junior in discipline. Before-
Before…
Before, he loved teaching. Whenever he’d thought about what he’d do when he grew older and seceded his leadership for the next generation, he’d always imagined himself taking on a teacher role - like his uncle, but also not like his uncle. He’d imagined himself patiently guiding the children, well-behaved and mischievous alike, with the gentle and forgiving hand he’d always craved for himself.
That can’t happen now. Even if the elders allowed it, he would not want to. How can he have the gall to tell others how to live their lives after the mistakes he has made? How can he possibly guide children when he does not trust his own judgement? How can he-
The door.
Xichen blinks. Ah, yes. The knock on the door.
“Come in,” he calls.
It’s Lan Sizhui. If he’s honest, he’s a little relieved; Lan Jingyi is a sweet and well-meaning young man, but he has a lot of energy, and isn’t always the most sensitive to the moods of others. Interacting with him since coming out of seclusion has been somewhat… draining. Sizhui is calmer: more gentle, more tactful. Xichen sees a lot of himself in the boy. Here, at least, is something he has not ruined with his influence. Here is something genuinely good, and pure.
“Zewu-jun,” Sizhui says, and it’s clear from his tone that he must be repeating himself. Xichen doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore, and Sizhui is always kind.
“Good afternoon, Sizhui, what can I do for you? Would you care for some tea?”
“Thank you, Zewu-jun, but I am afraid this is not a social visit. I am here to summon you.”
“Ah, I see,” Xichen climbs to his feet, and double checks that he is wearing an appropriate amount of layers. It slips his mind, sometimes, getting properly dressed. Sometimes he gets distracted, or forgets he’s no longer in seclusion.
Sizhui smoothes out the fabric of his skirts, fidgeting with uncharacteristic anxious energy. What could possibly have him this agitated? “Hanguang-jun and Wei-qianbei are in Caiyi Town and require your presence as soon as you can get there.”
Xichen struggles to restrain a grimace. He hasn’t ventured out beyond the bounds of Cloud Recesses since-
Since-
Since he came out of seclusion. The idea of it makes him feel prickly all over, makes all his sensible thoughts scatter like birds. He wants to say, no, I won’t, it’s too soon. He wants to say, for god’s sake, can’t Wangji solve his own problems by now? He wants to say, last time I was in Caiyi Town I stopped to buy loquats for Jin-furen and sandalwood incense for Jin-zongzhu, not because they were incapable of sourcing them themselves, but because I coveted A-Yao’s smiles, and I don’t want to paint over that association, I don’t want to lose it to whatever banal nonsense this is.
What he says is, “I understand. I will set off at once, then.”
He smiles. It must be relatively convincing, because Sizhui reflexively smiles back, bows, and leaves.
Xichen checks his hair and ribbon in the mirror, takes a deep breath, and steps out of the Hanshi. He carries Liebing with him, the weight of it in his fist grounding him into his body. It would be fastest to get to Caiyi Town by sword, but he doesn’t carry Shuoyue anymore. Last time he touched her was when she was returned to him - a disciple had presented her, rescued from the rubble of the temple and cleaned until she was gleaming, like nothing at all had happened. He had wrapped his hand around the grip, and thought about how she had cut through A-Yao’s chest as easily as slicing through a soft fruit, and he had thrown up.
Now she lives at the bottom of a chest at the back of a cupboard, buried beneath spare bedding. He feels a little bad about that, as she is a magnificent sword, and she has always been true and steady to his will. It wasn’t her fault, in the end.
Maybe one day he’ll be able to wield her again, but it’s not today, so he walks to Caiyi Town. Sizhui meets him at the gates and sees him down the mountain path, and Xichen does his best to enjoy his thankfully silent company and pretend that this isn’t obviously an escort. When they reach the bottom of the mountain, they step through the wards and past the guards, then make their goodbyes.
“Hanguang-jun and Wei-qianbei are at the inn by the market square,” Sizhui explains, “someone will meet you and show you up to the room.”
His parting smile is soft and affectionate, and for a strange, out-of-body moment, it reminds Xichen of his mother. She died years - almost two decades, even - before Sizhui was ever born, and the two of them are not related by blood, and yet, somehow, she’s there, in the curl of his mouth. In an odd way it makes him feel… better. Not necessarily more present, but certainly in a better mood.
He walks through Caiyi Town. It is the early evening, and the market stalls are already packed up, so there aren’t too many people around. Only a few people acknowledge him, and none of them try to make conversation, which is a relief. It’s early spring, so with the sun growing low, the air is growing cool, crisp and fresh in his lungs.
This used to be his favourite time of year, he reminds himself. He’d barely noticed that it had come around again.
He finds the inn easily. He’s been there before, after all. He stayed there once, with da-ge - Mingjue-xiong, he’d been then - when they were just giddy teenagers on their way back from a night hunt, and they’d missed the Cloud Recesses curfew. It feels like a different life. There’s a funny jolt in his stomach as he nears the inn because there are two figures there, as tall as da-ge ever was, dressed in dark colours like da-ge always did, and he feels like he has unwillingly summoned a ghost, but- but there are two of them, and neither of them are broad enough to be da-ge, and as he gets closer and they both pull down the hoods of their cloaks, he recognises one of them.
“Zewu-jun,” says Wen Ning, bowing respectfully, the chains wrapped around his wrists clinking as he moves. The other man bows too with perfect form, and when he straightens up Xichen sees the tell-tale black veins on his neck that mark him as a fierce corpse too. Next to the somewhat bedraggled and perpetually anxious Wen Ning, this man has immaculately neat robes and hair, and a severe resting expression. It is the swords that really give away his identity, however; on his back he carries one black and one white, just as the stories say.
“Wen-gongzi,” Xichen says, nodding to Wen Ning, and then he turns to the other man and offers a polite smile, “Song-daozhang, I am glad to meet you.”
Song Lan pulls the black sword from his back, and in a sequence of fast, elegant strokes, the words - this one is likewise glad, Zewu-jun - are etched sharply into the dirt.
“Zewu-jun,” Wen Ning says, “are you ready to go in? Wei-gongzi requires your… help.”
Just Wei-gongzi? Xichen nods, and turns the words over in his head as he follows Wen Ning inside. Sizhui had said that both Wangji and Wei Wuxian needed him, but Wen Ning had specified Wei Wuxian… what could this possibly be about? What could he need his help for? Xichen sighs. Knowing his unruly brother-in-law, it could be anything. Xichen glances over his shoulder at Song Lan, but the man’s face could be carved out of stone for all that it gives away. Trepidation builds in Xichen’s stomach as he climbs the stairs.
They reach the end of the upstairs corridor, where there is a door with a silencing talisman on it. Xichen’s trepidation immediately grows tenfold. What the hell is going on? What is this about? If they just wanted privacy, why not conduct this meeting in the Jingshi?
It does not particularly reassure him when Wen Ning and Song Lan move to take up guarding positions either side of the door. Wen Ning gives him what is probably supposed to be a reassuring smile and gestures for Xichen to go inside.
Xichen swallows. He grasps the door handle and slides it open.
The first thing he sees is Wangji, rising and moving towards him, and Wangji is speaking to him but he doesn’t hear it because when Wangji moves what he sees are the bodies of his sworn brothers on the floor.
His ears are ringing. He feels Wangji’s hands, steadying him, feels the door sliding closed against his back. He’s going to vomit. He’s going to scream. Wei Wuxian is there, holding out his hands and his mouth is moving, but all Xichen can see is da-ge and A-Yao, bodies stiff and pale, flat on their backs, still clothed in the ragged silks they were buried in, covered in dark stains of old blood.
Thick tendrils of resentful energy swirl around them. There are creeping black lines on their skin.
Fierce corpses. Both of them.
Xichen’s vision goes white, and then he blinks and his hands are around Wei Wuxian’s neck and someone is howling how dare you and he realises it is him, and Wei Wuxian’s face is going purple and Wangji is tugging at his arms to pull his grip away and as Wei Wuxian sinks to the ground, coughing, Xichen shakes and shakes and shakes. He is going to scream. He is going to vomit. He is going to close his eyes until all of this is just a dream.
Wangji immediately goes to Wei Wuxian’s side, already transferring qi, but his husband waves him away. “It’s alright,” he croaks, “we, hah, we probably should have given him some warning.”
“Why,” Xichen says, and his voice comes out strangled, like he was the one who’d had hands around his throat.
“Xiongzhang,” Wangji says urgently, “please, hear Wei Ying out.”
Wei Wuxian is many things, but he is not a coward; he struggles to his feet and immediately steps toward Xichen again, hands raised and posture defensive, yet clearly with no intention of retreating. “Zewu-jun, I know this is a big shock for you, but you need to hear what I have to say. We don’t have long to make a decision here.”
Xichen wrenches his gaze away from the bodies and back to his brother-in-law. He forces breaths into his lungs, forces himself to think beyond the horrified screaming in his mind. “Explain.” he grits out.
“The wards failed,” Wei Wuxian says, thankfully without preamble, “Lan Zhan and I were in Lotus Pier visiting Jiang Cheng and I - I felt the resentful energy just explode. It didn’t take us long to get to Yunping but it was a mess, a real mess, and Jiang Cheng’s doing his best to keep things quiet, but we knew the only way to stop this turning into a huge political shitstorm was to get these two out of there before anyone else got hurt.”
Xichen stares at him, “'Anyone else'?”
Wei Wuxian swallows, and glances at Wangji. Xichen’s heart drops.
“Twelve people were killed before the fierce corpses could be subdued,” Wangji murmurs.
Twelve people. Xichen staggers, and he is so horrified he cannot even feel it, he is just… numb.
“They’re under control now, but, Zewu-jun, if we stick them back in that coffin under a bunch of new wards, I can’t guarantee that this won’t just happen again in another couple of years. It’s not a sustainable solution, and this stasis I have them in now took a huge amount of work and won’t last more than another few hours, if even that.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head, “Their resentful energy - it has combined, and the two of them were so… well, let’s just say there’s a lot of it, so they are more powerful than almost anything I’ve encountered - more powerful than Wen Ning, maybe even near as powerful than the Stygian Tiger Seal.”
Xichen looks at his sworn brothers lying across the room. They seem so quiet. So still. He can barely believe what Wei Wuxian is saying. The rest of the world fades out as he stares.
“So what can be done?” he whispers.
“As far as I can see, we have two choices. Choice one: we destroy them completely. It would be difficult, but I think it could be done. But… it would be destroying them completely. It would mean shattering their souls.”
Xichen doesn’t feel the floor as he drops to his knees; it is just that one moment he is standing, and the next he is not. He isn’t even seeing them anymore, his eyes have unfocused, and yet they are all he can see.
Could he do it? Could he shatter their souls - destroy their very essence, prevent them from ever reincarnating, ever getting an opportunity to find peace - truly and utterly severing their link to this world and making fully certain that Xichen will never meet them again - all for the sake of the greater good?
“Choice two,” Wei Wuxian continues, “...we wake them up.”
Xichen blinks.
His head stops spinning, everything becoming exceptionally clear and sharp, and somehow that’s actually more disorientating.
Slowly, Xichen turns to look at Wei Wuxian. The man’s expression is serious.
“I think I could do it,” he says, bluntly, but with none of his signature arrogance. “I read Xue Yang’s notes after we dealt with him and there’s a technique he developed - plus with what I used on Wen Ning - I think I could do it. I’ve, ah, actually already sort of started if I’m honest, I figured it was pretty unlikely you’d want us to destroy them, and with time being limited, I figured… this array and talisman setup I’ve got going here-” he gestures to where the two bodies are laid out, “- well, if anything’s gonna do it, this will. Just say the word and we can start. Sooner would be better, if I’m honest.”
Xichen can’t- he can’t think. Everything is too sharp. He wants to curl up inside himself and never come out. But, no, he- if there’s a chance he could- he has to think.
“What would it mean?” he asks. “What… what would they be?”
“Sentient fierce corpses is what I’d be aiming for - like Wen Ning and Song Lan. Anything less aware than that and they won’t be able to control their resentful energy. But, look, Zewu-jun - Lan Xichen - this situation is way more complicated than the other two. You’d need to be involved in the process.”
Xichen’s mind is reeling at the prospect and every part of him is screaming to stop, to think about this, to consider the consequences and what it could mean for the cultivation world to bring two notorious dead sect leaders back, and what it could mean to him, to sully his own soul with demonic cultivation, but there’s a tiny voice in his head that tells him knowingly that if he stops and thinks about this now he will be paralysed with horror and-
“Wake them up,” Xichen says. “I will help you with whatever you need, and if it does not work, I will be responsible for destroying them.”
There is silence. His words hang in the air like a physical weight.
Wangji stares at him, face betraying very little, but Xichen knows how to read his brother and he can see anguish plain in his eyes. Wangji had been hoping that Xichen would not choose this. Wangji had perhaps been hoping that this would be the moment where Xichen would be able to finally leave his sworn brothers behind, and move on.
Wangji was hoping that Xichen would do the right thing, because that's what Xichen always tries to do, but he spent decades doing the right thing, only to have the rug pulled out from under him and find out it was wrong all along, so maybe- maybe what he needs to do now-
Xichen looks back at his brother, and wills him to understand. Would you do any less for Wei Wuxian?
Wei Wuxian claps his hands, then rubs them together, like he’s trying to pull his own thoughts back in, or perhaps trying to gather his own nerve. It has been many years since he has done this, after all. He huffs out a breath. “Alright. Alright, Zewu-jun, if you’re sure about this, then… then you need to go and sit over there next to Lianfang-zun, and we’ll get started.”
Xichen crosses the room, trying very hard not to think, to just - act. He kneels at the side of the smaller corpse. He does not look at the face. If this does not work, he does not want to see a person there that he has to destroy. If this does not work, then da-ge and A-Yao were already lost forever, and this is just… this is just the final step in laying them to rest. These are just empty vessels, and unless Wei Wuxian can imbue them with souls again, they will never be more than that.
Wei Wuxian knocks on the wall of the room with the end of his flute, and after a few seconds Wen Ning and Song Lan walk in and stand by the bodies - ready if anything goes wrong, Xichen realises. Wei Wuxian stands at the head of the body, and Wangji moves to its feet. Wei Wuxian clears his throat, shifting restlessly.
“Okay. We’re gonna start with Lianfang-zun, because, frankly, he’s smaller, so if this doesn’t go right, he’ll be easier to restrain. Zewu-jun - Lan Zhan and I are going to play, and when I give you the signal, you need to take that suppression talisman off his forehead, then I need you to immediately transfer qi to his Chen Ling spirit point-” Wei Wuxian gestures to a spot on his own head, a little way above his ear, “- to reconnect his body and mind, and then to his Ling Xu spirit point-” he presses his thumb to a spot just off-centre on his own chest, “-to revive his spirit. Got it?”
Xichen nods. He flexes his hands under his sleeves, and awakens his golden core, circulating his qi, ready for the transfer.
“Also, if this does work and he starts to wake up, he is definitely gonna be - at the very least - pretty disorientated. You’ll probably need to talk to him, try to ground him, and remind him who he is. If he panics he'll lose control of the resentful energy.”
Xichen nods again. He feels awake and focused in a way he hasn't in years.
"Alright!" Wei Wuxian twirls his flute around his fingers, "Lan Zhan, if you're ready, let's do this."
They begin to play, guqin and flute together creating an eerie tune. Xichen ignores his natural impulse to recoil away as the thick black tendrils roiling around the bodies begin to concentrate on the smaller man, pouring themselves into the channels of his meridians like water pushing through cracks in a wall. It's grotesque, but Xichen does not allow himself to look away. He will not be blind to the horrors he is responsible for - not anymore.
For several minutes, very little seems to happen, and Xichen is just beginning to feel exhausted despair creeping in when, abruptly, the body sucks in a huge breath and its back arches like a bow off the floor. It begins to thrash, and the mouth opens wider to give out a terrible unearthly scream. Xichen looks desperately to Wei Wuxian, but he gives no signal, so Xichen curls his hands into fists and waits. Wen Ning and Song Lan have not moved so Xichen assumes this must all be according to plan.
The screaming and thrashing continues for what feels like hours. Xichen bites his lip and digs his nails into his palms and prays for it to end - one way or another.
And then the body opens its eyes. They're black.
"Now!" Wei Wuxian yells.
Xichen rises up on his knees and rips the talisman off. The screaming peters out but the body is still spasming. Xichen cups the head in one of his hands and presses his thumb to the point above the ear, and uses his other hand to press fingers just off-centre on the chest, then focuses on transferring a steady stream of qi into those two places. The body is moving so violently that it's difficult to be precise, but he refuses to let go.
"Please," he whispers. "Please, please, please."
Slowly, the thrashing calms down, and the body grows still, eyes closed and relaxed, like any other corpse. Xichen glances up to look at Wei Wuxian, who nods, so Xichen sits back and waits.
The eyelashes flutter. The body groans.
"A-Yao?" Xichen calls, in as calm a voice as he can manage, "A-Yao? Can… can you hear me?"
The head rolls slowly over to face him. The eyelashes flutter again, then the eyes open.
This time, A-Yao is looking out of them.
"Er-ge," he says. His voice is cracked and hoarse but his eyes soften and a smile spreads across his face like melting wax. He looks sleepy and relaxed, like he’s just woken from a nap. Xichen can't breathe. He reaches out and grasps A-Yao's cold, stiff hand in his own.
He has spent years dreaming about what he might say if he got to speak to A-Yao again - what apologies he’d give, what accusations he’d make, what answers he’d demand - but the moment is finally here and all he can do is brokenly whisper, “Yes, I’m here.”
"I was… I was having the strangest dream…"
A-Yao's head rolls back the other way, blinking slowly.
He sees the body beside him. He screams.
“A-Yao!” Xichen grips his hand, but A-Yao wrenches it away, his eyes growing wide and he curls in on himself, gaze darting around the room, down at his robes, up at the other fierce corpses. His screams stop abruptly in a muted choking noise, and he begins to shake violently again. His right hand blindly claws up and down his left side, as if searching for the missing arm.
“His memories of his death are coming back!” Wei Wuxian says. “Lan Zhan!”
“Mn.”
Xichen only realises the two of them had stopped playing because he hears them start up again - this time he recognises Song of Cleansing. But A-Yao recognises it too, and his breaths start coming hard and fast. With a low groan, he scrabbles backwards like a cornered mouse until his back is flat against a wall.
“Stop!” Xichen says, holding out his hands to Wei Wuxian and Wangji, “It’s not helping, you’re just making him panic.”
The two of them stop playing, and all heads turn to watch A-Yao.
For a few moments, there is silence.
“A-Yao-”
“You,” A-Yao growls, but he’s staring directly at Wei Wuxian, “who put you up to this? Why- why would you-” his head turns towards Xichen in an uncomfortable, slow, inhuman motion that makes the hairs on the back of Xichen’s neck stand on end. “Was it you?” He rasps, “Was killing me once not enough? Did you get him to bring me back so you can kill me again?”
Xichen hadn’t realised that, in just the short time since he was offered the option of reviving his sworn brothers, he had built up some kind of hope, but he must have done, because seeing the rage on A-Yao’s face makes his stomach plummet. For some stupid, foolish reason, he had been half expecting that the A-Yao who would wake up would be the A-Yao he’d known for decades, sweet and kind and noble, but it’s not - it’s the A-Yao from that awful night at the temple, furious and paranoid and ready to lash out anyone.
He ought to be falling into despair, and yet… nothing. He feels nothing. Just cold and distant, like he’s floating out of his own body. He can’t say anything. He just stares blankly in the face of A-Yao’s hateful words.
“Lianfang-zun,” Wei Wuxian says, “I know that you must have a lot of questions, and we can answer all of them for you - but this is a sort of time-sensitive situation, so if you can just sit tight for a little bit whilst we work out what to do with Chifeng-zun, I promise that we can talk this through properly afterwards,” he actually lifts his hand in a salute, “okay?”
A-Yao stares at him incredulously.
“I’m going to take that as a yes, because you don’t actually really have a choice here,” Wei Wuxian says brightly, then turns to look at the second body lying still on the floor. The dark tendrils of resentful energy surrounding him are now moving erratically. Instinctively, Xichen feels like this is not a good sign. Wei Wuxian nods to Wen Ning and Song Lan, who move forward to pin down the corpse’s arms. Xichen must make some sort of noise of protest, because they all turn to look at him.
“Sorry, Zewu-jun - this one’s gonna be a lot more complicated. We’ve proved that the process works with him,” Wei Wuxian jerks a thumb towards A-Yao, “but Chifeng-zun has been dead a lot longer, and his resentful energy got all -” he makes a wiggling gesture with his fingers, “- snarled up when it was separated from his saber spirit, so there’s a big possibility that this could get messy. And if it does, those two are here to help keep things under control, and make sure no one gets hurt.”
He says it all with a relatively light tone, but there’s something firm underlying it that indicates without words that this is non-negotiable. That seems… fair. Xichen nods.
“Alright then. So this time we’re going to do pretty much the same as before, but you’re going to need to transfer significantly more qi to his spirit points to make sure those re-connections properly take. The array is already struggling to contain the resentful energy, so we’re only gonna have one shot at this. Everybody ready?”
Xichen deliberately does not look at A-Yao as he moves over to be beside the second corpse. He does not look, he does not think, he does not do anything other than focus on exactly what he needs to do next. If he thinks about it, he’s going to-
He’ll just-
He can’t. He cannot think about this.
The music starts up again. The resentful energy swirls and writhes and then begins to pour itself into the body, forcing itself through the cracks. This time, it only takes a few seconds for a response; the body jerks violently like it’s been struck by lightning, the head is thrown back, and a howl is torn from its throat. Wen Ning and Song Lan immediately clamp down on the arms, and even with their combined supernatural fierce corpse strength, it’s clear they are both throwing their full weight into trying to keep it on the floor.
Xichen hears a low keening sound come from behind him. He ignores it. He has to watch for the moment that the eyes open.
The body’s limbs are thrashing more aggressively. Song Lan is thrown to the side with a grunt, and although he quickly scrambles back to his feet, Wen Ning is unable to hold the body down alone, so it surges up to standing, snarling as Song Lan grabs hold of its arm again and the two sentient fierce corpses wrestle to at least keep it still.
The eyes snap open. They’re black.
Xichen darts forward and rips the talisman off, then jabs his fingers into position - one on the side of the skull, one on the chest - and lets his qi flow into the points. Over the course of several minutes, the body’s movements slow, turning more into aborted twitching and jerking than any kind of aggression, and the howling turns into horrible, guttural, rattling breaths.
Is it working? Xichen really isn’t sure. He looks desperately to Wei Wuxian, but the man’s furrowed brow over his flute as he nods to say Xichen can pull away is not especially reassuring.
Xichen stands back, and waits.
And waits.
Nothing changes. The body doesn’t grow more violent - but it doesn’t calm any further, either.
“Xiongzhang…” Wangji murmurs. There’s the barest hint of apology in his tone, and it propels Xichen forward.
Wangji thinks this isn’t going to work. He’s ready to give up. No. No.
Xichen takes the body’s head in both of his hands, presses his palms to the cold cheeks, looks into the black monstrous eyes, and begs. “Da-ge,” he cries, “I know you’re in there. Please, you can do this, I know you can!”
The head twitches. The eyes blink rapidly. The howling tapers off slowly, into a growl.
“Xi…chen…?”
“Yes!” Xichen rubs his thumbs over the cheekbones, “Yes da-ge, it’s me, I’m here, you’re alright.”
The body gives an almighty shudder, and then goes abruptly limp. Song Lan and Wen Ning stagger a little under its weight, but manage to support it roughly upright. The eyes open again, and it’s da-ge there.
“Xichen,” he says, voice raspy and slurred, “wha… where…”
Da-ge is eased down to a sitting position. Xichen crouches in front of him, holding him carefully by the shoulders.
“Da-ge, you’ve been… away, for a long time. But you’re back now. Just rest.”
“Chifeng-zun, hello!” Wei Wuxian’s cheerful voice comes from behind Xichen, “How are you feeling? What’s the last thing you remember?”
Da-ge’s brow furrows. The movement looks strange and stiff. “I… I was…” His eyes grow wide, abruptly full of rage and unseeing, “Jin Guangyao!”
Resentful energy begins to rise off him like mist rising off summer morning grass. Xichen grips his shoulders tighter. “Da-ge, it’s alright, just - just focus on me!”
“Lan Zhan, maybe you should-” Wei Wuxian’s voice cuts off in a gasp, “He’s gone! He must have climbed out of the window!”
Xichen’s stomach drops. He spins around to see - yes, A-Yao is no longer in the room.
There’s a groan from behind him. Xichen turns back and sees da-ge beginning to tremble, eyes scrunched up like he’s in great pain. And then his eyes snap open, and they’re black.
“No, no, no-” Xichen lifts his hands to da-ge’s face again, “da-ge, come back, come back-”
He hears footsteps running to the window, then Wei Wuxian’s urgent voice, “We need him back, they can’t be separated! Their resentful energy is too intrinsically linked, if they’re too far apart they’ll-”
Abruptly, the resentful energy surrounding da-ge goes haywire; any trace of da-ge is gone and it’s just a body now in Xichen’s hands, roaring as it launches itself to its feet again. Song Lan and Wen Ning are there immediately to try and hold it, but it manages to pull its arm back and land a blow that knocks Xichen down.
Lying on his back on the floor, head ringing, Xichen looks up at the raging body of a man he once loved, and he feels absolutely nothing. Everything has been swallowed so thoroughly by despair that even the despair itself seems muted and distant. There is no panic, no sadness, no fear - just the one thought that, whatever else happens, he will not allow either of his sworn brothers to hurt anyone else again.
He climbs to his feet. He reaches into his sleeve and pulls out Liebing. He brings it to his lips, and begins to play Song of Cleansing.
He pours every ounce of his spiritual power into it, plays it loud enough to drown out the howling. The body fights its restrainers, the head rolling angrily from side to side, but Xichen narrows his eyes and plays with even stronger intent, and slowly the resentful energy begins to calm.
There’s a thud, and then another source of terrible howling. Xichen glances to the side to see Wangji standing on the window-ledge with a furiously thrashing A-Yao - no, not A-Yao anymore, the eyes are pure black and the violence is instinctive and senseless - wrapped up in guqin strings and held firmly in his arms. In a strange, out-of-body moment, Xichen actually finds himself glad for the oppressive numbness that has descended upon him, because he is sure that otherwise his heart truly would have torn in two.
Gone. They’re both gone again.
“Nice one, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian appears at Xichen’s elbow, “Zewu-jun, if we’re gonna get these two back to themselves again, their shared resentful energy needs to be brought back under control. I’ve got an idea, but it’s gonna need a lot of help from you.”
Xichen lowers Liebing. “Anything,” he says.
“Okay, so essentially, it’s… well, they need to do meditative dual cultivation, really, in a demonic cultivation kind of way, to get what is their equivalent to qi under control. Only, neither of them are conscious right now, so they can’t circulate the energy themselves - but if they had someone between them, controlling the energy flow…”
“Wei Ying,” Wangji says admonishingly, eyes wide in horror.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, don’t look at me like that!” Wei Wuxian runs a hand back through his hair, “Lan Zhan, your brother has an insanely powerful golden core - he’s totally strong enough to let the resentful energy pass through him without actually absorbing it. I think he could do it!”
“I’m doing it,” Xichen says, firmly, without looking at his younger brother. He knows that Wangji doesn’t want him to do this, knows that it’s tantamount to demonic cultivation. Frankly, he doesn’t care. He’s too far gone at this point. What is he going to do anyway, if this doesn’t work? What’s the damage that demonic cultivation could do to him when compared to the idea of giving up on his sworn brothers forever? He settles down on the floor in lotus pose and holds out his hands. Reluctantly, Wangji drops the body he’s holding to the floor at Xichen’s side, and holds it there with a firm grip on its shoulders. Song Lan wrestles the other corpse to its knees on Xichen’s other side, and it is kept there by Wen Ning wrapping it in his chains and holding them taut.
Xichen reaches out and takes a hand in each of his. The fingers are cold, stiff, and clammy.
Dual cultivation. What a joke that he finally gets to experience it with them and it’s - like this. An abomination. A twisted, distorted reflection of what should have been a beautiful act of intimacy. And him not even acting as a full partner; just a conduit to try and mitigate the damage of their rage.
Well. What’s new?
Xichen breathes in deeply through his nose. He’s never dual cultivated before, but he knows the theory. He grits his teeth as he lets down his instinctive barriers and allows the resentful energy to pour into him, cold and poisonous under his skin and writhing grotesquely. It feels wrong in a thousand different ways, yet he does his best to ignore it. He activates his golden core and begins to move his qi, using it to direct the resentful energy as he creates a purposeful circuit within himself, and then, with some careful concentration, he makes his hands part of the circuit too. Draw it in through each hand, pass it through himself, then push it out into each hand. He hums Song of Cleansing to keep time and drown out any noise that might break his concentration. At first the energy floods through him erratically, resisting his control, but after several minutes it starts to slow, until it is moving sluggishly like thick river silt. There's a horrible kind of satisfaction in it - in feeling it forced to bend to his will. All his lessons in cultivation taught him that harnessing qi energy is about discipline and restraint, but working with resentful energy feels like subduing a wild beast, delivering blow after blow until it can fight you no more and must follow your lead. It's violent and unpleasant, yet he knows he is strong enough to do it.
Yes, you're strong, the strongest cultivator of your generation, strong and powerful and good, so good, Lan Huan, but aren't you tired of being good? What has being good ever gotten you, Lan Huan, besides being left hurt and alone? Besides getting your heart broken?
Xichen stiffens. He lets the whispering words wash over him.
Let go of being good and let us in, and you'll never have to swallow your anger again. Oh, yes, we know about your anger. We see it here inside of you - even now, in death, they refuse to cooperate, why won't they just listen to you, why can't they see what you see? But Lan Huan, we are inside of them now. If you would only let us in then you can harness us, harness them, not as their tyrant but as their conscience, oh Lan Huan, they would never disappoint you again.
It's a heady thought.
And yet, what is a reconciliation between his sworn brothers really worth, if he's simply puppeteering them?
Xichen shores up the defences of his golden core, and thinks, No.
The voices do not whisper to him again.
“Holy shit, it worked,” Wei Wuxian hisses.
Xichen opens one eye - he’s not certain when he even closed them - and draws in a sharp breath when he sees A-Yao blinking blearily, and da-ge’s eyes heavily lidded as he sways drowsily in time with Xichen’s humming. Slowly, carefully, he closes the circuit off and pushes the last of the resentful energy out of his system. Slowly, carefully, he pulls his hands out of theirs.
A-Yao regains full consciousness first; it’s clear when it happens, because he goes from lax and limp to almost instantly tense and stiff. His eyes grow wide, and he gives a low groan. Xichen isn’t sure whether it’s frustration or fear that he’s voicing.
The sound is enough to draw da-ge out of his stupor too. When his eyes open, he also immediately reacts by growing tense, though in his case it is an attempt to burst free of his confines. Song Lan leaps to his feet and helps brace Wen Ning in holding the chain taut. Da-ge snarls, but does not wrestle out of their hold, eyes darting around the room in confusion. "What is this? What the hell is going on?"
"We're dead, da-ge," A-Yao says, with a manic, incredulous laugh, "the Yiling Laozu brought us back as fierce corpses!"
Da-ge opens his mouth, eyes wide, but Wei Wuxian saunters between them before he can say anything, and both of their gazes snap to him expectantly. He twirls his flute around his fingers as he regards them. Wei Wuxian moves with a causal kind of arrogance that Xichen recognises from the terrible time shortly before his death. Something is different about the set of his mouth, the look in his eyes, the way he holds himself - the man he sees before him is not the man he has known the last few years as his brother-in-law. Is this an inherent part of Wei Wuxian that has simply lain dormant, or is it the resentful energy under his skin working the change?
"Lianfang-zun is correct. You are both fierce corpses animated by my power," he says coolly.
He pauses, as much to give da-ge and A-Yao a chance to process the information as to make the most of the dramatic moment.
"Why… why would you…" da-ge's voice breaks in his horror, and despite the numbness Xichen is encased in, his heart still aches a little bit to hear it.
"There's a lot to explain, and not a great deal of time, so I will leave it up to Lianfang-zun and Zewu-jun to give you the backstory, but what you need to know is..." Wei Wuxian pauses, then looks at the two of them, seemingly weighing his words, "...your combined resentful energy proved too great to be restrained by the wards placed on your tomb. To prevent great calamity, we had two options: cleanse the resentful energy by utterly destroying your bodies and spirits, or harness the resentful energy and restore your sentience. For Zewu-jun's sake, we went with the latter. Welcome back."
Xichen feels both of his sworn brothers turn to look at him. He keeps his eyes on Wei Wuxian.
"What were you-"
Wei Wuxian interrupts, "Questions later! Now, ground rules. You!" He points his flute at A-Yao, "You tried to run away. Do not do that again if you value your sentience. You were in that coffin together for long enough that your resentful energies merged into a nasty tangled up ball that I was unable to entirely separate, which means that putting any significant distance between you will result in both of you losing control - and losing your sentience.”
“Sentience? You keep saying-” da-ge shakes his head, brow furrowed. The only thing that appears to be holding back his temper is a thin veneer of shock and confusion. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Wei Wuxian folds his arms, “I mean, losing control of your shared resentful energy will result in you turning into mindlessly violent animated bodies that cannot be reasoned with and will go on destroying everything in their path until they themselves are destroyed."
Da-ge and A-Yao stare at him; da-ge, eyes wide with dawning horror; A-Yao, eyes wide with a sort of exhausted mania.
“Well,” says A-Yao in a deliberately casual tone that borders on hysterical, “seeing as we are currently sentient, can we please be untied now?”
Wei Wuxian waves a hand imperiously, and the others, accepting his judgement, act: Wangji releases the guqin strings holding A-Yao, and Wen Ning recalls his spiritual chains back to his own arms, releasing da-ge.
“Why,” da-ge croaks, and when Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to respond, da-ge holds up his hand, then turns his head to look directly at Xichen. His eyes aren’t black, but there’s something dead in them all the same. “Why would you ask him to do this? What the hell made you think we would want this, Xichen?”
Xichen can’t respond. What could he possibly say? That, despite all the evidence to the contrary, he still believes that this sworn brotherhood could be redeemed if they only had more time? That he’s doing this to punish himself, and they’re just collateral damage in his self-destruction? That he’s incapable of moving on, and never wanted to, anyway?
His mind screams at him to placate, to soothe, to kowtow and apologise, but somehow none of the orders reach the rest of his body. He stares blankly at da-ge.
A sharp, urgent rap at the door jolts them all out of their tension. Wangji goes to answer it and, with an anxious glance over his shoulder at Wei Wuxian, slips out of the room and slides the door shut behind him.
A new tension descends upon the room as they wait in silence. It cannot be more than a matter of minutes before Wangji returns, yet it feels like half a lifetime. Xichen isn’t even certain exactly why secrecy might be required besides a sense that it might, perhaps, be unwise to make the general population aware that two very notorious and very dead political figures are once again upright and walking around, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath to find out what the verdict of Wangji’s conversation is.
Wangji’s shoulders are tense. He gives Wei Wuxian a terse nod.
“Shit,” Wei Wuxian hisses. Some of the Yiling Laozu's intimidating menace fades as he rubs at his forehead with his flute. “Alright, alright, we don’t have long then - Wen Ning, Song-daozhang, can you go and keep watch downstairs? Wen Ning, you know the signal.”
"What do you mean we don't have long?" Da-ge growls as the two others take their leave, "What the hell is going on? You're telling me that I'm a fierce corpse, and I-" he looks down and sees the rough black stitches around his wrists, and physically recoils, as if trying to escape his own body, “Why am I- what happened? What’s going on?”
Black mist begins to rise from his shoulders. Across from him, A-Yao trembles, but stays silent, like a cornered rabbit hoping the foxes won’t spot him - watchful, waiting, ready to bolt.
This is bad. Xichen swallows. “Da-ge,” he begins, but da-ge just snarls.
“Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian says, holding out his hands, “I’m sorry, I really am, I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t tell you anything more until you calm down. You need to control the resentful energy - you must not let it control you, or you will lose your sentience again.”
Da-ge stares furiously at him, and then takes a deep, shuddering breath. And then another. Thankfully, it only takes a few breaths before the dark tendrils of energy recede again. He opens his eyes. “I am calm,” he says. “Now explain.”
Wei Wuxian begins to pace up and down the room as he speaks, “I don’t have time to tell you everything - we really do need to get moving - but I can give you the basics, okay? I said that you two are powered by an overwhelming force of resentful energy that cannot be untangled, and I meant it. You cannot get separated. I’m not certain how far apart you can go before things start going haywire, but judging by Lianfang-zun’s little escape attempt just now, I’d say it’s probably about a li.” Wei Wuxian pauses in his pacing and taps his flute against his bottom lip, “I could probably put together an array that would stress-test how far it takes for you to lose control, but-"
“What do they have to do to prevent losing control?”
Xichen isn’t certain who asks, until Wei Wuxian looks in his direction, and he realises it was him. Intervening in potential crisis moments used to be so second-nature to him, he must have just - done it, without even thinking. Like muscle memory. It ought to make him uncomfortable, but he doesn’t really feel anything much about it.
"I'm glad you asked, Zewu-jun, because this bit's really important -" Wei Wuxian stares the three of them down, “- to keep all of this under control, you two are going to need to do meditative dual cultivation.”
“What,” da-ge says, flatly.
“At least once a day, for as long as it takes until you are both calm and in-sync.”
The maniacal laugh that A-Yao has been trying to hold back finally breaks free. “You should have just destroyed us! This is never going to fucking work!”
And then he freezes, mouth open, before looking down at his palm. From where Xichen is sitting, he can see that there is a sigil glowing a strange sickly green on his pale flesh.
“Oh, yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, a smirk pulling at his mouth, “and there’s that, too.”
A-Yao’s lip curls in a snarl, “What I just said - I didn’t mean to say that. What have you done?”
“It’s a curse. I couldn’t in good conscience just release you back in the world and let you do whatever you wanted, could I?”
“So it… it makes me speak my mind?”
Wei Wuxian tips his head from side to side with a shrug, “More or less. The idea is that it should prevent you from lying, and actively compel you to tell the truth.”
A-Yao curls his hand up into a ball, then brings it to his chest. He looks like he might vomit.
“You should have just destroyed us,” he says, sourly.
This time, it is da-ge’s turn to laugh. It’s not a pleasant sound.
Xichen closes his eyes. He feels like he’s floating outside of his own body. Surely, any moment now, he will open his eyes and realise that this is all just a dream, or that he got terribly lost in his own thoughts again, and he’ll find himself back in the Hanshi.
Alone.
Four loud knocks sound, as if someone is rapping on the wall beneath the inn window. Unlucky number four. Wangji’s eyes widen and he turns to look at his husband, “Wei Ying. The signal.”
“Right. We really actually do need to move now. Lan Zhan, how long do you think we could get away with keeping these two at Cloud Recesses?”
Xichen opens his eyes. “No.”
Wei Wuxian blinks at him, “No?”
Something inside of Xichen solidifies, cold and sharp like ice. He looks at his brother and narrows his eyes. “I don't care what they are - I will not take them back to Gusu and lock them away. I’m not…” he swallows, “I won’t do it, Wangji. I won’t.”
Wangji's eyes are wide and sad, but he nods. Of all people, he understands.
“Then where will we go?” A-Yao asks. Xichen turns to see both he and da-ge have climbed to their feet.
“We will go south. We’ll travel as rogue cultivators.”
The words come to Xichen without hesitation, without any real thought, as if he knew all along that this would be their path. Wangji reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a qiankun pouch, which he presses into Xichen's hand.
"Food," he says, "and money."
Abruptly, a corner of the blankness covering his mind recedes and Xichen feels a pang of sweet, aching affection for his little brother. He wants to wrap him up in his arms, like when they were children, but Wangji doesn't like that kind of touch, so he looks into his eyes and squeezes his hand instead, hoping that conveys a little of his love.
"What about our weapons?" Da-ge asks, as Wei Wuxian passes A-Yao a fat stack of blank talismans.
"Your brother took your saber back to Qinghe, and I believe A-Ling took Hensheng for the family vault," Wei Wuxian shrugs, "so I guess you'll have to make do. Out the window now - get as far as you can, and Lan Zhan and I will come and find you once we've managed to figure something out. But remember -" Wei Wuxian's face grows serious, "- I brought you back for Zewu-jun's sake. My loyalty is to him. So if I find out you've been unable to get your act together, and you've hurt him again - or anyone else! - I won't hesitate to destroy you. You will not get another chance. Am I understood?"
"You are understood," da-ge growls. A-Yao narrows his eyes and nods.
Heavy footsteps sound on the stairs. Wei Wuxian ushers them towards the window.
"Who are we running from?" Da-ge demands as he steps onto the sill.
"There's no time, they'll have to explain as you go."
Da-ge jumps from the window. A-Yao steps up to take his turn.
There is something else that needs to be done. Xichen reaches up behind his head.
"Xiongzhang…" Wangji breathes, devastated.
Xichen coils up the ribbon in his hand, then places it in his brother's palm. "Keep it safe for me until I get back. And tell Shufu… tell him I'm sorry."
Wangji swallows, but closes his fingers around the ribbon and nods.
Do not lie rings in Xichen's mind as he takes his own leap from the window, though he supposes he had already surrendered his ribbon at that point, so the lie was somewhat irrelevant. It wasn't a lie to say that he's sorry - he genuinely does regret causing his uncle so much trouble, and he's sorry that his absence will likely cause pain for the people who care about him - but his words to Wangji could perhaps be considered a deliberate misdirection.
He won't be coming back.
If this all works, and by some miracle da-ge and A-Yao learn to co-exist, then there won't be a place for any of the three of them in the cultivation world. And if this doesn't work, and da-ge and A-Yao lose their battle with the resentful energy…
Xichen thinks about the look he used to see in Wangji's eyes during those terrible bloodsoaked days after Wei Wuxian's death; it was a look that said there was only the barest thread tethering him to this life, and he didn't care much if it snapped. He hopes very much that Wangji had not seen that look in his own eyes.
Xichen follows his sworn brothers into the dark night.
This time, he won't be left behind.