Chapter Text
“Wei Wuxian, I cannot.”
The voice was painfully familiar in more ways than one, especially the way it seemed to curl with judgement around Wei Wuxian’s name, “Under good conscience, I cannot perform the procedure. The fifty percent I said? It's probably down to five percent now. I will not.”
“Please!” Yet another familiar voice spoke, this one so much so that it made Jiang Cheng's chest curl, “This is the one thing I beg of you!”
A scoff sounded next to him, one he was sure he'd heard before, “Forget about your chances in this,” it said, “Have you seen the state he's in? He's barely even recovered, he's at a risk for infection,his meridians are an absolute mess, possibly worse than yours. Overall, it's quite literally a miracle his body even got him to the top of the mountain - testament to the fact that willpower can take you places I guess!” The voice was annoyed, clearly frustrated at the other.
He couldn't quite put his finger on who though. Once silence fell around them again, Jiang Cheng was once again able to focus on his own self, his breathing which was ragged enough to be audible in the depths of the darkness. It felt like he was floating in some murky waters, the voice speaking from above him, standing on land. The explanation wouldn't have had him bat an eyelash except that people couldn't breathe underwater.
His breath was ragged and sharp, and his lungs wouldn’t expand the way he wanted them to. He would run out of air at this rate,’ the innate swimmer within him said instinctively. Yunmeng Jiang members learnt to swim even before they learnt to walk… it was logical that that was the first instinct his brain supplied him with even if this dark murkiness wasn’t actually water. He parted his lips, attempting to draw in more oxygen but it wouldn’t come easily, almost like there was a restricting weight on his chest.
He couldn’t help cursing a little internally, as he raised his hand to swat at the weight in question.
Except that his hand was heavier than a boulder. He let out a small groan as his efforts went into vain - he couldn’t see his own arm through the murky darkness, much less whatever was weighing it down. Jiang Cheng was pretty strong, it seemed odd that he couldn’t lift something off his arm, especially since it didn’t feel heavy enough to even break the bone. His fingers twitched, and he held back the urge to curse again.
So instead he worked on channelling his qi towards his arm. He closed his eyes, letting the murkiness give way to darkness entirely as he reached deep within him, following the tracks of his own meridians. They felt… different. Cold, unlike what he was used to. There was no light to follow along as he moved through his own mind, reaching out towards the core within him-
Only to reach into nothingness.
The cold of his meridians dripped into his very being, flooding him with horror. Suddenly, the murkiness around him wasn’t dry anymore as the water threatened to drown him. He needed the oxygen but his lungs flooded with water, leaving him unable to even flail or make a sound. He searched around within him, searched for the core which could give him a thrust so he could resurface, but he drew upon nothing - nothing except the water flooding into his empty chest and the strength of his body leaving him.
“Jiang Cheng!”
The familiar voice invaded his senses, loud and clear this time and he could feel hands on him. A part of him didn’t know what to make out of them - a part of him wanted to scream at them to let him go, but the other part desperately begged them to pull him before he drowned. He floundered - how ironic it would be for a child of Yunmeng Jiang to die in the water, the very place which promised to protect them for all of eternity-
Jiang Cheng’s eyes snapped open and his lips parted to draw in some sweet, sweet oxygen. Sweat dripped down his forehead, exhaustion curdling into the corners of his vision as light finally filled his view up instead of the awful darkness. He couldn’t close his mouth, his breathing still not quite obeying him as he drew in mouthfuls of air, gasping as though he finally learnt to breathe. He’d never really appreciated what a beautiful sensation it was, had he?
“Jiang Cheng…” the same voice spoke, this time, close to his ears as he felt the same hand, rubbing up and down around his elbow, less panicked than the tone which had snapped him awake. With some herculean effort, Jiang Cheng managed to turn his head to the side, blurry figures appearing within his eyesight. It took him a couple of moments to gain sense of his bearings, the blur closest to him, finally taking on the hues of red and black, and an almost ashen pale skin as he looked into Wei Wuxian’s eyes.
“You…” Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly as he realised how awful and scratchy his voice sounded, “You look awful.”
Despite the sickly pallor his shixiong wore, the all too familiar smile played onto his face as he clutched harder at Jiang Cheng’s arm, a chuckle leaving his lips. It was a wet chuckle, and Jiang Cheng didn’t really need to look into the elder’s eyes to know it was a suppressed sob. He hadn’t seen Wei Wuxian cry often. To be fair, no one had seen Wei Wuxian cry often. Sure, sometimes he laughed so hard he teared up, or sometimes he did something stupid and got himself injured to the point that the pain brought tears into his eyes… but he almost never cried like this, sobs withheld behind awkward chuckles, fingers tightening with every moment as though Jiang Cheng would disappear the moment his grip loosened.
“Speak for yourself,” he mumbled out in that same wet voice, as he closed his eyes and a very strong part of Jiang Cheng’s heart wanted to cup his shixiong’s face and tell him to cut it out. Wei Wuxian wasn’t made to show such expressions. Wei Wuxian was made to be able to laugh in the face of danger-
Before he could say much more though, a pinkish red colour filtered into his vision, unlike the dark ones on Wei Wuxian’s robes and ribbons.
Red with black intricate detailings of a flame.
It awoke something raw and primal in him, and he was barely able to suppress a scream as he threw himself back, scrambling away from his position on the bed, back hitting against the headboard audibly. His body was exhausted, that was for sure, because even that bare minimum movement had him blink away dark spots from his vision, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t pass out again.
“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian cried out again, leaping after him, their fingers linking together as he attempted to hide that sleeve away from his range of vision, “Jiang Cheng, it's ok!” he said again, snapping his fingers once over to ensure that the younger’s attention was on him. A part of him wanted to throw something at Wei Wuxian - how old did he think Jiang Cheng was to be able to be enamoured with a couple of finger clicks? But he supposed if the look of a sleeve could elicit this kind of reaction…
“Jiang Cheng, it's just Wen Qing!”
Wen Qing…
That’s why the voice had sounded so familiar all this while.
He heaved out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, but it didn’t do much to dissipate the fear within his chest. He found his own hand unconsciously moving towards Wei Wuxian’s, his fingers desperate to find something to ground him as they wrapped around him. Wei Wuxian didn’t seem against offering him that grounding though as he didn’t do much beyond tightening their hold, and tugging his hand a little closer to his chest.
Wen Qing stood at the foot of the bed, an unreadable expression on her face. Maybe if Jiang Cheng squinted he’d be able to catch hints of something akin to hurt or guilt in her eyes - he couldn’t really figure it out. He’d never been the best at reading people after all, unlike his sister or even Wei Wuxian. She was holding a tray, although the contents of it didn’t seem like food. The scene was oddly reminiscent of the time he’d spent at the Yiling Supervisory Office, locked up in the room the Wen siblings offered, his mind clouded with uncertainty and sorrow while his body gave up on him.
Why wasn’t he still there?
A flood of emotions and memories rushed through him as he remembered everything. They’d climbed the mountain to meet Baoshan Sanren. Jiang Cheng remembered feeling the sword against his neck, an unconscious image forming for him despite the black cloth Wei Wuxian had tied tightly around his eyes and remembered how the uncomfortable fear of having an exposed back had made him feel. He’d recited Wei Wuxian’s words flawlessly… and she’d seemed to accept them then-
Jiang Cheng closed his eyes, reaching deep within him with renewed enthusiasm, with a renewed vigour as he almost crushed Wei Wuxian’s fingers in his own hold.
But nothing.
Something akin to confusion washed over him. He tried again dipping into his conscience, his meridians, but he found them as they’d been, cut out jaggedly by the palm pressing into his chest, a gaping hole where his core had been. He struggled for a moment, scourging through his entire system - Baoshan Sanren was a miracle worker. There was no cultivator alive who would ever deny her capabilities. Then how come his core wasn’t back…
“Wei Wuxian-” he gasped out, his free hand moving to clutch at his chest as he felt an oncoming panic attack, “Wei Wuxian, my core-”
In front of him, Wen Qing winced as she moved to put the tray down on a table next to the bed, before taking a seat next to his legs. Jiang Cheng didn’t know what she was doing here in the first place - had something gone wrong? Had Wei Wuxian come to rescue him? They were supposed to meet at the bottom of the mountain after this was done then how come they were here-
“Channel some qi into his meridians,” Wen Qing said, avoiding eye contact with him as she instead chose to look at Wei Wuxian, “He’ll take it better if it's from you.” Her hands remained folded on her lap, her voice steady as ever. She briefly looked at him out of a side glance but seemed to focus on providing her instructions to Wei Wuxian instead. She looked far too steady for someone who was attending to a patient as worked up as Jiang Cheng and for a moment he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.
A slight warm began spreading up his arm as he turned to see, Wei Wuxian holding his wrist now, the index and middle fingers of his right hand in contact with Jiang Cheng’s pulse point as a flow of ephemeral gold emerged from his finger tip to smoothly flow in through his own pale skin. He couldn’t help notice how Wei Wuxian’s fingers, which were dangerously steady for most part, was trembling, visibly so. It was then that he realised that perhaps the tight grip his shixiong had on his hand wasn’t entirely because he thought Jiang Cheng needed steadying but because he needed it to.
“What’s going on?” Jiang Cheng, his voice cracking again, “What happened? What happened with Baoshan Sanren?”
Wei Wuxian’s grip tightened further as he stared at Jiang Cheng’s wrist, and he didn’t need to be a genius to know he was avoiding eye-contact. He didn’t know what to make out of that look. It wasn’t often that Wei Wuxian looked ashamed either, perhaps this was even the first time really. He had a tendency of proudly upholding his head no matter what happened, standing by his actions no matter what the world had to say, then what could possibly be so bad that he was bowing his head to Jiang Cheng of all people?
He’d already been the worst that could possibly happen to someone… What more did he have to lose?
“What is it?” He asked again, this time, looking away from Wen Qing entirely to focus his gaze on Wei Wuxian, “A-Xian, what is it?” He couldn’t bring himself to care at the slip in tongue to the nickname. It was a common name used in Lotus Pier to be fair, but not so often by Jiang Cheng himself, who’d taken after his mother when it came to propriety. That and the fact that his mother had threatened to have him whipped if she caught him addressing his shixiong as ‘A-Xian’ again. It didn’t entirely stop him throughout the years - just ensured that it only happened when his emotions were at an all time high or an all time low.
“What is it?” He yelled this time, tears beginning to form in his eyes as his free hand fisted up, “Is A-Jie alright? Wha-”
“Shijie’s fine,” Wei Wuxian said in the most curt tone he’d ever heard from him, “She’s with your Waipo in Meishan. You know that.”
He did. He did know that. Almost the first thing they’d done upon getting out of Yunmeng was send a letter to Jiang Yanli and his grandmother and aunts in Meishan telling them about the massacre of the Sect. It had been Wei Wuxian who penned the letter, Jiang Cheng himself too out of it to possibly even hold a quill much less write anything legible with it.
And Wei Wuxian had told him Meishan Yu acknowledged their arrival and even offered to send them along with bodyguards and it was common knowledge that the Yu Sect’s Spiders were quite literally the best bodyguards in the Jianghu.
Then what the hell was going on? Had the core restoration failed?
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Wen Qing’s cold hand against his leg, permeating even through the thin clothes he was wearing, “Jiang-gongzi,” she said slowly, the hesitation clear in her tone, “Please calm down. This isn’t doing your body any favours.” A small part of Jiang Cheng wanted to snarl at her, yell at her for even daring to tell him to calm down when it was all her sect’s fault in the first place that he’d ended up in this situation, that his parents were dead, that he was homeless.
But the other part of him knew that she had a point. His chest felt constricted as it was… he doubted any further lack of oxygen from hyperventilating would help him stay awake. He needed his body in proper condition, right? That’s what Wei Wuxian had told him…
The realisation hit Jiang Cheng very suddenly and all to anticlimactically, almost like the times he’d finally managed to learn a sword stance he’d been struggling with, except that this time there was absolutely none of the celebratory satisfaction, none of the urgency to find his A-Niang or A-Jie to tell them about his success. Instead it made him feel resoundingly stupid - like the truth had been dangling before him wearing a label and he’d still missed it entirely. Had he really been so utterly desperate that he believed whatever bullshit Wei Wuxian fed him?
“There was no Baoshan Sanren…” he mumbled, “This was a hoax. It was you two all along, it was,” Jiang Cheng’s eyes fell upon Wen Qing who similarly averted her gaze, looking away from him to instead stare at his leg. As though lack of eye contact would suddenly make her right in his eyes, “You were the woman. You were this Baoshan Sanren…” But that didn’t make sense. Had Wen Qing actually had the ability to restore cores, why would the lie be needed in the first place?
Plus, the ability wouldn’t just have been coveted in the Jianghu but celebrated… who would ever want to disrespect a sect which had the ability to both mysteriously destroy and create golden cores-
“A-Cheng, listen,” Wei Wuxian was the one who spoke this time, voice scratchy as he spoke, still not raising his head to meet his eyes, “Whatever we did, we did it for your own good…”
What did that mean?
Jiang Cheng hated the lack of knowledge, the lack of control. Yet it was ironic that perhaps control was the one thing he’d never had - he’d never had control over his father’s distaste for him, never had control over being able to ensure that his parents were happy, never had the control over where he stood in the cultivation world, despite working so tireless… he hadn’t even been able to control as the Wens had not just stolen his home, but stolen his years worth of work, his identity… his very pride that night in Lotus Pier…
He screwed his eyes shut, yanking his hand away from Wei Wuxian, the memories racing through his mind, both of the horrible night and everything that had followed.
He’d never had any say in how his life went, so why would he have it once he’d basically lost it…
The next realisation hit when the mere action of pulling his arm away had Wei Wuxian stumble back, losing his balance as he dropped to the floor like a marionette which had its strings cut. He’d fallen from a crouching position so it obviously shouldn’t have hurt him, but a look of pain flashed through the elder boy’s expression and Jiang Cheng felt something break within him. Wei Wuxian always had a high pain tolerance - he’d been able to take hits from Zidian without screaming out, muffling groans into his hand as it threatened to be cut off.
Last he remembered, he’d been fine.
Worse for wear, and the stress of having to look after both him and A-Jie but he wasn’t hurt, he hadn’t been in pain. He’d even worn a small smile when he’d tied that black cloth over Jiang Cheng’s eyes at the base of the mountain in the elaborate lie that he carried on for days in the Yiling Wen stronghold. They’d wanted to ensure Jiang Cheng was steady on his feet before they ascended the mountain, right?
But if the mountain had been unnecessary-
He was snapped out of his thoughts as Wei Wuxian coughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth and Wen Qing quickly shifted her attention from Jiang Cheng to the man on the floor instead, moving to place the index and middle finger of her right hand on the pulse point of his wrist, while the other was placed on his back in an attempt to steady him. Wei Wuxian didn’t make any immediate moves to stand up himself, which was just as unsettling as everything going on around him.
“I told you not to get out of bed so soon,” Wen Qing berated, this time her annoyance directed at the other clearly injured person in the room, “The incision is deep, your core is far from so strong as to be able to heal without you focusing on it in the slightest.”
Wei Wuxian had had an incision? Did that mean he’d needed surgery? What would Wei Wuxian need surgery for if he hadn’t been injured in the first place-
A bucket of cold water seemed to be dumped on Jiang Cheng, dousing him with the sensation of a thousand needles against his skin. He looked away from Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing, suddenly realising that he probably didn’t deserve to look down on them in the first place. It took all of his willpower to not scream, as the knowledge of what was about to happen settled within him like a disease which would gnaw away at his insides until there was nothing left. Once again his lungs seemed to fill up with the same icy water and all Jiang Cheng could do to keep his entire body from dissolving into helpless tremors was to wrap his arms around himself, grasping at his own arms in desperation.
It was so painfully obvious that Jiang Cheng was amazed how he hadn’t seen through this before - Wei Wuxian was always great at throwing around stupid lies after all - sometimes so blatantly obvious that people would even believe him.
There was no core restoration.
He’d heard stories and documents often talking about golden cores as organs. Located firmly in the lower dantian, protected well by those who knew its power, it established full control over your meridians, qi like lifeblood as it functioned almost as a second heart. It was exactly that to a cultivator after all - the heart which beat enough to keep the spiritual energy thrumming through their fingertips.
He’d never heard of anything listing its relevance as an organ when it came to transplant.
Because that was exactly what Wei Wuxian had been trying to do hadn’t he? Give up his own future - his own years of hard work? His core?
All because, Jiang Cheng had been too weak to stop that one hand from slamming into his lower stomach, knocking more than just the breath and blood out of him.
Jiang Cheng curled further away from the pair on the floor, back beginning to press against the wall of the minimalistic hut where they currently resided. The wall behind him was firm and cold - one of the two things he could appreciate. He knew the wall wasn’t going anywhere, unlike the day when he’d made his run, unlike even in this very moment where he couldn’t even figure out what his own brother thought of him.
A look akin to guilt, and sorrow crossed over Wei Wuxian’s face, almost similar to how he’d looked the night Jiang Cheng’s anger had overflowed and he’d shamelessly pinned the man’s throat down - horrified, scared, unable to draw a breath, “Jiang Cheng-” he paused in his words though, clearly not having thought this through. Jiang Cheng knew Wei Wuxian probably hadn’t considered the possibility that this wouldn’t work. He’d always been a dramatically optimistic person, for better and worse, and now…
“You-” Jiang Cheng’s own breath caught in his chest and the word came out as not more than a choked cry, “You tried to give me your core?”
Jiang Cheng had known Wei Wuxian for a very long time. He’d never been a particularly good liar. He threw around the most ridiculous of excuses which made people crack up and the other times he was simply too proud of his actions to even consider lying as the way out. So even now when Wei Wuxian’s mouth opened as though he wanted to speak, no sound came out. What could he ever say to convince Jiang Cheng of all people - the one person who knew him better than anyone else in the world?
Wei Wuxian.
That absolute idiot had been trying to give away his core, his life’s work, everything that made them worth something in this world, against the people who’d wronged them. He’d… trusted Wei Wuxian to protect A-Jie, to protect their parents honour, and hold up the pride of Yunmeng Jiang as his father had always wanted. Jiang Fengmian had always believed that Wei Wuxian would have made a better Sect Leader for Yunmeng Jiang than Jiang Cheng, someone who understood the motto of their Sect better than anyone else.
But how was Jiang Cheng supposed to stand for it when Wei Wuxian took that too far?
A core transplant was unheard off. And yet it had been one of the impossibles which Wei Wuxian had been trying to make possible only to be faced with the rough and undeniable truth that things didn’t always go his way. That sometimes decisions were final - and there was never any going back.
It remained ironic.
No one could rewrite the past, and yet Jiang Cheng, still alive in the present, had no future.
His body felt empty, and he felt no urge to fill it either. He looked away from Wei Wuxian’s agonised expression, slumping back and closing his eyes as he let his hand rest on his lower dantian, which now swam with nothing but broken, and dry meridians, torn up blood vessels and organs. It was funny how much hope could invigorate someone because all he felt right now was this bone deep exhaustion - the sort of exhaustion which made you feel so tired that you couldn’t fall asleep or eat or even get up and make yourself do something worthwhile.
Not for the first time since he’d woken up in the Wen Supervisory Office, he found himself wishing that he’d bled out in Lotus Pier. At least that way he would’ve died at home, been with his parents - given Wei Wuxian the opportunity to use him as a martyr to recruit more people in their now empty sect.
But no, Wei Wuxian hadn’t been able to give him that respite.
He’d ensured Jiang Cheng was still breathing, still walking and absolutely a husk of the man he’d hoped to be. Someone who neither had the means nor the drive to seek revenge - someone who could only continue being a burden on the man he’d so desperately wanted to save. There still was that small part which thrummed with the excitement of success. It was greatly numbed out by the other overwhelming lack of emotion, but perhaps it was enough to keep him from choking himself in the moment that in the end, despite attempting such a stupid thing here with Wen Qing… his shixiong was still safe. His shixiong was still alive - and as long as Wei Wuxian, the embodiment of Yunmeng Jiang was alive…
Yunmeng Jiang would one day soar again.
He let out a bitter laugh. It truly was ironic, how even after years and years of attempting to surpass him, Jiang Cheng had ultimately given it up to ensure that the same man didn’t fall to a fate worse than death. He knew Wen Chao wouldn’t just let Wei Wuxian die. People like that never sought for a merciful death, and Wei Wuxian was always far too reckless in his approach towards people. No, Wen Chao had been petty in the worst way possible and if that evening Wei Wuxian had been the one to be dragged to Lotus Pier… He wondered if he would’ve met a fate worse than his own.
Nausea swirled in his stomach, anger and shame writhing through it as he attempted to push back the memories of that night which surged through him. The prevalent images of his parents strung up bodies in the courtyard, the corpses of his shidimei scattered in the waters, still bleeding as Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao didn’t even bother to show them the bare minimum respect, stomping on their bones, and extending hands, not letting them rest even in death. The feeling of those hands on him, and the whip hitting against his back - a sword cutting into his skin, without him being able to so much as move with the broken bones in his chest, and the multiple hands holding him up for Wen Chao to use him as his own sadistic plaything.
Jiang Cheng scrambled away from the wall, a burning engulfing his body in head as he barely made it to the edge of the bed before coughing up a mouthful of blood. The strings of red hung from his lips, his heart beating far too fast within his still injured rib cage. The coppery taste of blood filled the back of his throat, the bitter taste coating his mouth and tongue, making him feel even sicker.
“A-Cheng!”
He didn’t have the energy to push Wei Wuxian away when he scrambled onto his side, one hand rubbing his back while the other attempted to steady him as he unconsciously leaned a little to the side, although he desperately wanted to. Wei Wuxian had had no right to attempt surgery on him without so much as telling him, so now he had no right to even touch Jiang Cheng, even if - like always - the man’s intentions had been self-sacrificial and noble.
His free hand, which wasn’t busy clutching at his chest, was picked up by Wen Qing into her lap, her fingers pressing down on his wrist again. She didn’t say anything instead loosening her grip after noting his heart rate which was of course, irrationally high. You didn’t need to be a medical expert to feel the thudding from outside. A part of Jiang Cheng wished he’d black out - but when had his body given him the respite he desperately wanted.
When he finally felt like he wouldn’t actually throw up beyond the bad blood his system needed to purge, he fell back a little onto the cot, the various aches and pains of his now painstakingly humane body making themselves known. He didn’t lean into Wei Wuxian, like he once would have at even the notion of wanting a bit of comfort, and the one person he desperately wanted with him, the one person who was still safe amidst this horrible time was his Jiejie… and he shouldn’t wish for her to be by his side because that would mean she wasn’t safe in Meishan, under the protection of their aunts and grandparents.
His mind fell into a slight haze as he pulled himself back, leaning against the far wall again as he closed his eyes. A part of him still wanted to just wake up back at home in Lotus Pier in the privacy of his room, the morning breeze through his window and the scent of breakfast cooking in the air. He’d break down once, over how scared he’d felt but things would be fine. A-Niang and A-Jie would hug him, run their hands through his hair, before his mother scoffed at him for being a silly child. Wei Wuxian would chuckle at him for crying before throwing his arms around his shoulders, and Jiang Fengmian would-
Jiang Cheng didn’t know what his father would’ve done had this all been a nightmare.
But there was no point in wishful thinking after all. The hollowness within him was too physically tangible for it to be a dream, the taste of copper on his tongue was too sickening for it to be a dream. And he clearly counted how many of his fingers were now missing fingernails, so no, this was no dream. This was a reality worse than any dream he’d ever had, without the respite of actually waking up.
He raised his knees to his chest, tucking himself as small as he could. Usually Jiang Cheng hated that, hated feeling weak or small in any manner. So much so that whenever he left Lotus Pier, he tucked a few pieces of cloth into his shoes so his minimal height gap with Wei Wuxian wasn’t so noticeable. He’d pad the insides of his robes to make his waist appear wider, because he wanted no eyes on him, no one claiming he had a feminine waist.
But now, he didn’t want to be seen in the first place. He wanted this hut to be empty, for Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing to both disappear, god knows where. He wanted to be alone, but he couldn’t muster the willpower to actually tell them to get lost. Why would they listen to him in the first place - he didn’t have his status anymore, didn’t have his bare minimal strength anymore, didn’t have his family anymore. He was nothing but a single drop in an ocean of unrecognisable people, while both Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian were the ships that sailed over him.
Jiang Cheng buried his head into his knees, gently waving his hand above it to ensure no one got too close and he wept bitterly. The salty tears streaked down his cheeks, and he couldn’t care less if he was being loud. He sobbed hard, as he hugged his arms around his legs in an attempt to bring some amount of comfort. He could hear Wei Wuxian say his name but he no longer wanted to acknowledge that, his own sobs more heightened within his head than anything his shixiong would say to him. He wept for the home he’d lost, the years of work that he’d given up, the lost trust in the man who’d attempted to make his sacrifice vain, and the future that no longer had the pinch of light that he’d considered the light at the end of the tunnel.
He sobbed for Jiang Wanyin, Second Son and heir of Yunmeng Jiang because this marked his end. He died back in Lotus Pier, god knows how many hours ago, and in his wake, he left behind this husk of a man, who had no identity beyond the simple name of Jiang Cheng.