Chapter Text
“Sect leader! Sect leader!” A voice of a disciple calls from outside. Last time he’d been called from outside like this… well it hadn’t been pretty, that cold day thirteen years ago.
“What is it?!”
“The Jins found Wei Wuxian’s old notes and disposed of them without asking,” the young disciple gasps out the news. And Jiang Cheng is furious. How dare they?! How dare they take a piece of his brother and try to wipe it out like that?!
“Without asking?! I’ll break their legs! What did they do?!”
“So um… they threw them in the Burial Mounds?”
Oh.
“Of course it’s that place. It’s always that fucking place,” he growls. He’d burn the rotting mass to the dirt! It steals his brother twice and now swallows what’s left?! The nerve!
The disciple edges further away.
“So um… in other news… the Burial Mounds exploded?”
He stares.
“It what.”
“Exploded, sir?”
“Send out scouts and relief, evacuate all civilians. I want a notification on the severity in a shichen,” he commands. Far more familiar with instructions, the disciple snaps into a salute.
“Yes!”
He steps out into the yard. So it’s going to be one of those kinds of weeks.
“Jiang Cheng,” a voice rasps, familiar but unused. Standing before him, bleeding and wounded and alive- alive.
Wei Wuxian is alive.
“Someone… someone brought me back and… they messed it up,” he coughs. “Please, don’t hold your blow didi.”
Jiang Cheng drops Sandu and Zidian to the floor and grabs Wei Wuxian by the shoulders and… fuck, a whole-body flinch.
“It’s been thirteen years,” he breathes, the words almost a sob. “You fucking bastard.”
And then he hugs him.
“You came home,” he says. Wei Wuxian looks at him for a moment, eyes shining in shock and… and gratitude.
“I did,” he mumbles. “I did.”
“I’ve done a lot of terrible things… and you still came home,” Jiang Cheng rasps, tears welling in his eyes.
And Wei Wuxian’s face darkens. The Wens. For a moment, he’s struck by a stone cold fear. A fear that his brother will look at his sins and call him irredeemable. Will look at his mistakes and leave.
“That’s not mine to forgive,” he finally says. “I don’t forgive you for doing it for me, though.”
“I know.”
“We did a lot of fucked up things in the name of helping each other,” Wei Wuxian tries to assure. Jiang Cheng fixes him with a deadpan stare.
“There’s a significant difference between giving up your fucking golden core and literal murder,” he says.
“So… you… you know about that,” Wei Wuxian winces.
“Had a good decade and change to grow used to the idea. Still angry as fuck about it,” Jiang Cheng tries to be flippant. It doesn’t work.
“I’m sure,” Wei Wuxian sighs. And then he whimpers because apparently his body is just brought back and already giving out on him.
“So… you’re back. Battered but… back. How?”
“It had to have been the Xianshe,” his brother says. The what now?
“How do you know?”
“So um… I was out of ink that day and used my blood,” his stupid, brilliant older brother says sheepishly.
“What the fuck,” he blurts. Wei Wuxian crosses his arms defensively.
“I was inventing and I figured that concept out right as I ran out of ink!”
“What the fuck!”
“But the blood needs to be one end of the sacrifice, not necessarily the one giving up their spirit. And it wasn’t something I was even… I might have considered bringing back Uncle Jiang or Madam Yu but Madam Yu would hate me and Uncle Jiang would need a body with a core. I was actually going to try summoning back my old body by killing my current one, but it didn’t seem plausible,” Wei Wuxian says awkwardly. Jiang Cheng stares. So it seems they’re pretending nothing happened.
“Um… what exactly is this array?”
“Well, it’s dark… obviously. Basically I used the-“
“What does it do, Wei Wuxian,” he interrupts before the conversation descends into technobabble.
“Boo, you never let me talk theoretical cultivation,” Wei Wuxian pouts. “Anyway! It takes a resentful ghost— why it chose me, I don’t know. I wasn’t bothering anyone after I died-“
“It takes a resentful ghost and what?” Jiang Cheng interrupts.
“The summoner’s spirit goes right into the reincarnation cycle, but cannot be reborn until the summoned spirit, now put into their body, fulfills a wish. If they die before they do it, well… their spirit goes kaput,” Wei Wuxian smiles awkwardly. Jiang Cheng just gapes at him.
“Why a wish?”
“It was a necessity if I wanted to use the modified collect rune,” his brother fidgets. “And I needed that in case the soul was dilapidated or just plain shattered. Like mine turned out.”
“After the spirit fulfills the wish?”
“Then the body is theirs,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I never finished it. That was a working prototype I didn’t get to clean up the edges of. Hence why I feel like I’m dying.” Jiang Cheng’s blood freezes in his veins.
“You… feel like you did the moment you died?”
“Only when I move?”
This… dumbass!
“Then stop fucking moving!”
“One of the resentful spirits must have accidentally been sacrificed by the Xianshe, but all that does is summon my ghost and put me in its body,” Wei Wuxian ignores him like the irritating little fucker he is. But what he‘s saying… doesn’t make sense.
“But the freely floating spirit doesn’t have a body,” he points out. Wei Wuxian looks sheepish.
“Which is why the array glued the the last body the spirit was in together. Which must have been…”
His. Oh.
“So you were possessed at Nightless City,” he says again. And he’d known it. He’d known that he was faithless in his brother and he could feel guilt for that later because right now Jiang Cheng is drowning in relief. Wei Wuxian is here and alive and holding the words that promise him that he’d never-
“I don’t… I don’t remember any of it,” Wei Wuxian murmurs into Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, his eyes starting to close.
“Rest. We’ll figure out what’s weakening your body in the morning.”
He calls for servants.
“Bathe him and put him in his bed,” he commands. They look at each other, warily.
“His bed? Do you mean…”
“It’s my brother. He’s come back to us. I’m expecting absolute discretion.”
“Always, sect leader,” they bow and take his brother’s limp form with them.
And when he’s alone, his knees give out and he cries with relief.
“You’re back, ge. You’re really back.”
“So, now that you’re alive again,” Jiang Cheng says softly, Huisang freezes. There aren’t any servants around to announce his entrance, so he stands at the door.
“Do you really have to say it like that?” Wei-xiong whines. “And how dare you become sworn brothers with Nie-xiong without me! I demand to be let in!”
“You’re already my brother, you fucking idiot,” Jiang-xiong snaps. And then he freezes.
Because there are tears trailing down Wei-xiong’s face.
“Wei-xiong?”
His new sworn brother tackles his (their? This just got confusing) brother in a hug.
“I’m glad, that it was the Jiangs who took me in,” he rasps. And that makes Jiang-xiong cry.
Nie Huisang can’t help but cry watching them because— holy fucking shit— Wei-xiong is alive.
“Wei-xiong!” He cries, tackling them both. “Wei-xiong, Wei-xiong!”
“Huisang?!”
“Of course it’s me,” he snaps, but it has no edge when he’s literally sobbing. “You’re back.”
“Sect leader, Sect leader Nie sent his… oh,” a disciple edges awkwardly out the door. Jiang-xiong steps back and clears his throat awkwardly.
“Burial Mounds. Right.”
“I have to come,” Wei-xiong says. They turn to him, and he knows they’re all terrified of the territory this conversation could land them in.
“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang-zongzhu warns. But Wei Wuxian shakes his head.
“No, you guys need me there. I’ve got this,” Wei Wuxian tries to reassure them and fails.
“I’m guarding the whole damn time and you’re wearing a fucking disguise,” Jiang Cheng acquiesces with a scowl.
“Fine by me,” Wei Wuxian nods. And a part of him wishes they could be like they were at fifteen, when Wei-xiong would have whined about covering his handsome face and Jiang-xiong would comment on any of his nonexistent attractiveness being destroyed by the shit that comes out of his mouth. But no matter, Huisang can be trusted to derail a conversation to nonsense easily.
“Hey, now that Wei-xiong is back, I get to plan your wedding! Calling it!”
“He’s marrying in Lotus Pier and staying in Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng glares. And like he’d ever subject their friend to Cloud Recesses! Especially after what they did to Lan Wangji.
“I’m sure Lan Wangji would be fine living here,” Huisang laughs. Wei Wuxian gapes at them. Fool.
“I’m sorry, what was that about a wedding and Lan Zhan?” Jiang-xiong snorts like an irritated horse. (Like he’s not laughing sober for the first time in years.)
“You mean beyond the fact that you’re disgustingly in love with him?”
“I’m not in love with him,” their idiot friend snaps.
“Ding dong, you are wrong,” Nie Huisang rolls his eyes. They give him weird looks and ignore that.
“Let’s get to Yiling,” Wei Wuxian jumps to his feet with a slight wince.
“On sword?”
“What else?”
“I hate this part,” he groans.
“Splish splash, your opinion is trash,” his friends intone at the same time. Conspiracy! Betrayal! By his best friends!
He doesn’t even bother to act offended. In fact, he spends the entire flight to Yiling trying not to cry. They’re together and they’re teasing each other like nothing happened. Like they could be kids again. Like all three of them don’t know with the full weights of their hearts that they never would. But for a moment, they pretend like fools.
Jiang Cheng takes out a mask designed to look like Nenzha and holds it out to Wei Wuxian.
“That…” is a Jiang treasure that’s been in the family since they settled in Yunmeng, is a priceless artifact, is a symbol of a protector, is really fucking expensive… well there are a lot of things he could have said but it ends up being “ouch!” because Jiang-xiong shoves it in his face.
“Take it,” Jiang-xiong demands, voice thick with years of shed and unshed tears.
“Okay,” Wei-xiong whispers, holding the mask with something bordering on reverence.
The scene on their arrival is chaos. Multiple sects already there because everyone is basically responsible for this overflowing pit of resentful energy.
Or, has been since the mighty Yiling Laozu fell.
Wei-xiong snaps his fingers.
“So that’s why it hurt. A-Cheng, I need my flute.”
“Who the hell is your A-Cheng,” Jiang Cheng sneers. He still hands Chenqing to Wei Wuxian.
“You need to stand back on this,” Wei-xiong warns. Jiang-xiong grips his sleeves.
“You-“
“I’ll be fine. But I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you in the process,” Wei-xiong insists. Huisang exchanges a look with him.
“Fine,” Jiang Cheng says tersely.
A shrill, fluttering tune makes its way from Chenqing, and everyone watches as the energy begins to pool into the mounds, inky water flowing within its stream.
Then the darkness begins to siphon off it, as Wei Wuxian plays what can only be Rest. When had he even learned that piece?
The surrounding Lans all gape with confusion at the person controlling resentful energy and using Lan techniques. Wearing what looks similar to the hidden treasure of the YunmengJiang.
The energy refines further into the silvery flow of pure yin. An instant qi deviation to whoever touches it.
A very pretty looking gruesome death, but aren’t they all?
Wei Wuxian frowns at the yin energy, as if unsure of what to do with it. Then his eyes widen with an unholy glee that always means that something’s ending up on fire.
“EVACUATE THE BURIAL MOUNDS!” Jiang-xiong yells. With shouts of assent, crowds of cultivators form a ring, containment arrays seemingly at the ready.
With a sudden, blasting note, Wei-xiong drags the pool of silvery yin down, dragging some weaker cultivators with it.
The Burial Mounds, which had only had thirteen years to recover from an attack on a village-sized chunk of it, stands no chance. It’s flattened to an ashy heap, clouds of smoke trailing in the air.
“Did you just flatten a fucking mountain range,” Jiang Cheng gapes. Wei Wuxian laughs awkwardly.
“Uh… I think so?”
“There is no way you could control that much energy before,” Huisang chokes. Wei Wuxian frowns.
“Yeah… I didn’t expect to be able to do it til I got here. But the real reason is stupid.”
“What?”
“The resentment had a thin thread of the final piece of my spirit woven in it. Tightly enough that if I pulled my spirit, it would all uh…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“We should celebrate.”
“I’m down to get drunk!”
The ashes of the Burial Mounds, as empty of energy as any other ash, is collected by several sects to store. A memory of the day they were cleansed by an almost heavenly show of power.
Some wonder if it was Nenzha himself. Some whisper that the flute could be only da-jiu.
Jin Ling gets his answer the next morning when he comes to stay in Yunmeng. Standing by the door in black robes with a dizi on his belt is a face Jin Ling had only ever seen in ink. They say he had sunkissed skin and unruly hair, silver eyes that glittered with mischief and fun, and gentle hands with those he loved.
“You… Jin Ling?”
His voice is quiet with a barely there hope. And oh, he’s real and he’s so cool and Jin Ling suddenly feels very small. He’s grown up on stories of his da-jiu. A copied page with his letter to him is still hidden under Jin Ling’s bed. There is no mistaking this man’s identity.
“Da-jiu,” he says.
“Yes,” the man gasps. “Yes, it’s your da-jiu. Can I… can I hug you?”
“Please,” Jin Ling’s voice cracks on the word shamefully but his uncle doesn’t mention it, wrapping Jin Ling in warm, strong arms. He’s here. Alive and heart beating.
“You’ve grown up well,” da-jiu whispers.
Jin Ling cries. He cries like a child because someone who had been taken from him is back.
His da-jiu is back.