Work Text:
Wenren E woke up alone in an unfamiliar bed.
This was baffling for a number of reasons. Firstly, he had no memory of being knocked unconscious or developing a fever, so there was no reason for him to be in an unfamiliar bed. Secondly, Yin Hanjiang would not have let him wake up in an unfamiliar place alone. Thirdly, the sounds drifting into his ears – CABBAGES! BEANS! FRESH EGGS, LAID TODAY – did not belong in any part of the cultivation world, and fourth, Wenren E could not access even a scrap of spiritual power.
The possibility of some righteous sect kidnapping him and raising a Spirit-Severing Array only to drop him in the middle of some mortal settlement was so miniscule that Wenren E dismissed the thought before it had fully formed. He sat up, squinting against the sunlight, and the movement of the covers sent something clattering to the floor.
It was a book. Reading the title, Wenren E had a familiar feeling.
Before he could investigate it, a knock sounded on the door. “General Wenren? Are you awake? Breakfast is ready.”
“I’m awake,” he called, suddenly aware that he was ravenous. The door slid aside to reveal someone dressed in the garb of a servant, who might or might not have shared a face with an underling from Xuanyuan Sect, babbling amicably as he tottered around the room. Apparently, the astronomers had forecast auspicious signs, the weather was predicted to be good for another while, and General Wenren was expected at court today.
Wenren E took the book with him to breakfast. Unlike Abusive Romance or God of Annihilation, this one lacked a dedication to tell Wenren E how the book had appeared or why it existed. There was a short paragraph confirming his suspicions that he was now in one of the other three thousand universes of the Dao, but no explanation as to why.
Frowning, Wenren E started on the first page of Joy Unasking Heaven.
By the end of breakfast, a valley had made itself comfortably at home between Wenren E’s eyebrows. Abusive Romance had left him wanting to investigate Baili Qingmiao’s brain; Joy Unasking Heaven made him want to investigate the author’s brain. Who even made books where the left half made up one section, and the right half made up an entirely different section?
He'd started with the left half of the first chapter, discovered that it was some sort of diary keeping track of every single movement the emperor made – literally, the first sentence was The emperor got on his horse – and moved immediately to the right half, which wasn’t much better. The right half of Joy Unasking Heaven appeared to be one long historical record starting right from the founding of the dynasty, only instead of recording anything useful like the names of emperors or officials or years or decrees, the book recorded battles.
In seemingly endless, excruciatingly tedious detail.
Wenren E had cultivated the Path of Slaughter, and he still found Joy Unasking Heaven impossible to read. Why would anyone leave the reader to infer the pincer formation but go into detail on how mould had contaminated twenty-eight jin, thirteen liang, seven qian and three fen of the army’s grain and which soldiers under which lieutenants were affected? Why focus on how a particular soldier, who wasn’t even named, used his polearm in a charge against the enemy? Most infuriatingly, after Wenren E had slogged through thirty pages of inane description, the battle ended with the sentence, And then our side won.
After the second battle was written the same way, Wenren E began skipping pages. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was just as well that he’d skipped, because the only useful history he learned in some six hundred right-side pages was the name of the current dynasty and emperor: Emperor Yin Hanjiang, of the Fen dynasty.
“General Wenren, you need to be setting off now,” came the nervous voice of a servant.
Wenren E did his best to smooth out his expression and strode off to the carriage, flipping ahead to search for the second chapter. He had to flip through the book twice to find it. Sitting in the carriage, Wenren E was suddenly thankful that in this universe of the Dao, he had never cultivated; he had no doubt that the first, and only, sentence of the second chapter, printed on the left page, would have sent him straight into qi deviation.
The second chapter, all of one sentence long, read: Wenren E woke up alone in an unfamiliar bed.
The imperial court was the Xuanyuan Sect.
Wenren E had to choke back his laughter at the sight of Altar Master Ruan in the formal ministerial robes, looking awfully exposed without his tortoise shell. Then he saw Shu Yanyan in torn ministerial robes that freed her skin, and really had to laugh.
Shu Yanyan shot a nasty look in his general direction before recognition hit and melted it to slag. “General Wenren,” she said, silkily, “something to say?”
Not his universe’s Shu Yanyan, then. That was good; he didn’t want to know Shu Yanyan’s reaction to having to wear those robes. Wenren E shook his head and found a better place to stand, forcibly controlling the muscles in his face.
“The Emperor arrives!” cried the shrill voice of – was that one of Shu Yanyan’s underlings as the eunuch? Wenren E had long known that the Dao was dispassionate yet compassionate, but clearly the Dao also had an excellent sense of humour.
The entire court sank to their knees. Emperor Yin Hanjiang’s expression cracked, very slightly, when his eyes found Wenren E’s. To anyone else, it would have been imperceptible, but Wenren E knew at once that the emperor was his Hanjiang.
He looked quite dashing indeed, leaning back on the throne in his dragon-patterned robes. Perhaps, once Wenren E figured out how to return, Xuanyuan Sect could do with some redecoration.
What Xuanyuan Sect could not do, as it turned out, was be a functioning government. If not for the several hundred pages’ worth of battles Wenren E had read earlier that day, he would be seriously questioning how the Fen dynasty had ever established itself. For starters, Altar Master – no, Minister Qiu Congxue seemed entirely convinced that mortals did not need food.
“Minister Qiu,” said Zhongli Qian politely, interrupting her explanation on why the peasantry needed to be taxed at ninety percent of their harvest, “ninety percent is too extreme. By heavenly order, the court may govern the people, but it should not be the people’s enemy. The first enemy of the people is he who leaves them without food, the second he who leaves them sick, the third…”
It turned out trying to put philosophy into Qiu Congxue was a futile task even in a universe where her brains hadn’t been eaten by hungry ghosts, because she wore a baffled expression throughout the entirety of Zhongli Qian’s lecture. At least, Wenren E assumed her expression stayed baffled throughout. He’d fallen asleep when Zhongli Qian had began describing ancestral duties and only woken when Yin Hanjiang spoke, by which point the floor seemed covered with Zhongli Qian’s hair.
“Minister Zhongli’s point is made. Taxes will not be raised. Who else has something to present?”
Out of all people, it was Baili Qingmiao who stepped forward, and Wenren E’s concern for the Fen dynasty grew. As a primordial goddess her nature was unchanging in every universe of the Dao, so how exactly had civilisation survived with a goddess of calamities taking care of it? After the storm came the rainbow, but first the storm had to leave.
Though there was something appropriate about Baili Qingmiao being in the Ministry of Rites. Wenren E had lost track of mortal festivals a long time ago and had no intention of picking them up again, so he just nodded at odd intervals and attempted not to doze off. Eventually, Yin Hanjiang dismissed the court.
“General Wenren, stay behind,” he added.
Ten minutes later, Wenren E and Yin Hanjiang stepped into the imperial gardens.
“I woke up here today,” said Yin Hanjiang. “Venerable, did you… also wake up today?”
Wenren E guessed the source of his distress and quickly shook his head. “I woke up this morning too,” he said. “And I found this.”
He took out Joy Unasking Heaven, handing it to Yin Hanjiang. “The left side is some kind of diary, the right side is a history of the Fen dynasty. Then on the last page—”
He stopped, because Yin Hanjiang had flipped to the last page, and it was no longer the one-liner that had nearly given Wenren E qi deviation in a world without cultivation. Instead, the left side was full of words, though the right side remained blank, and the last line read: Ten minutes later, Wenren E and Yin Hanjiang stepped into the imperial gardens.
Yin Hanjiang turned the book back to the front page. Words had appeared there, too. To prevent overwork, two characters have been selected to take a relaxing vacation in the mortal world! Considering mortal timespans, this change of scenery will only last one month. Please make use of this time to rest and recharge!
There was silence as both of them digested the words. “What does ‘recharge’ mean?” Yin Hanjiang finally asked. “And is this another Abusive Romance?”
“I don’t think so,” Wenren E said, avoiding the first question. “In Abusive Romance, we were ourselves. But I’ve already seen too much prosperity in this world for cultivators to exist. Since this isn’t our world, we aren’t the real ourselves either, but outsiders to the natural order of this world. The human civilisation may see no difference, but the Dao must balance all three thousand universes, so we cannot change the path of history here.”
Yin Hanjiang slowly nodded, tension slipping from his shoulders. “Then, our purpose here is really to have a change in scenery? To rest and to, uh, recharge?”
“It looks like it,” said Wenren E, taking Joy Unasking Heaven back from Yin Hanjiang’s hands. The last line was still stuck at them walking into the gardens, so they were ahead of the narrative, not behind it. “Though I can’t say if being emperor is a relaxing task,” a smirk, “Your Imperial Majesty.”
Yin Hanjiang made a full-body twitch at the words, and Wenren E released his laughter. “The robes look quite dashing on you,” he continued. “We may need to commission a set, once this mortal month is over.”
A fierce blush was crawling up Yin Hanjiang’s face. “Black isn’t this lord’s colour,” he managed.
“Ah,” said Wenren E, “but I like seeing you in my colours.”
Now the blush was out in full force. Wenren E walked him back towards the trunk of a willow tree, smiling, and Yin Hanjiang wrapped his arms around Wenren E’s neck and smiled back. They spent hours exchanging lazy kisses under the tree, sunlight curling gentle and golden on Yin Hanjiang’s face, and by the time night and the cold began sinking in, Yin Hanjiang was a pleasantly relaxed warmth in Wenren E’s arms.
Not being a cultivator had some charms, if nobody else could cultivate either.
“At court, Baili Qingmiao said there was a festival today,” he said, sneaking another kiss onto Yin Hanjiang’s cheek. “Show me around?”
“I knew you weren’t sleeping through the whole thing,” muttered Yin Hanjiang. “I wish I had. Wait a moment, does this mean I have to attend a month of morning court?”
The imperial guard was not happy with Yin Hanjiang going unprotected to the festival, and the eunuchs were not happy with Yin Hanjiang postponing morning court for a month, but he was the emperor. They could only watch as he walked off with Wenren E into the crowds.
Music poured out from a tavern as they walked, the streets alight with lanterns to guide the way. The crowd carried them past eager street vendors flaunting their wares as it flowed towards the river. “Do you think we need to eat?” asked Yin Hanjiang.
He had to shout to be heard above the crowd, and before Wenren E could reply, an enterprising vendor had already cut in. “Of course dashing young gentlemen like you have to eat,” he exclaimed. “May I recommend our savoury pastries, stuffed with fresh chives and eggs that were laid today? Only twelve coins apiece!”
“Forget his pastries, a bowl of our noodles is the same price and is much heartier! You won’t find another stall this good in the entire capital.”
“Consider one of our sweets after! Twenty coins, and you can buy a box of flowers for ten coins if you take one!”
Yin Hanjiang’s expression shuttered down. Wenren E hastily paid for one of everything and led him out of the crowd, rubbing circles on his palm until Yin Hanjiang relaxed. “We do have to eat,” he murmured. “Inedia isn’t an option here.”
“Do you want the pastries or the noodles?” asked Yin Hanjiang.
Wenren E took the noodles. They made their way down to the river at a more sedate pace, Wenren E keeping himself between Yin Hanjiang and the street vendors. A parade of lanterns were floating on the river’s surface, carrying the hopes and wishes of the city into the future, and Yin Hanjiang was watching them, transfixed.
“Here,” said Wenren E, placing a flower lantern into his hand. Yin Hanjiang must have wanted them very badly indeed, if he had not noticed him slip away.
“I must have had this, when I was young,” said Yin Hanjiang. He said it as a fact, without a trace of sadness, but Wenren E’s heart ached all the same. After Yin Hanjiang rose from setting the lantern into the river, Wenren E folded him into an embrace.
They stayed like that for a long, content moment. Eventually, Wenren E drew away to offer Yin Hanjiang the firecrackers he had bought with the lantern in some kind of two-for-one deal he had not even known he was participating in. Yin Hanjiang reached for them with a hesitant smile, and Wenren E knew with instinctive certainty that he would remember that smile for the rest of all time.
For a lamp-oil-making, book-burning pyromaniac, there was pure wonder in Yin Hanjiang’s eyes when he lit the string of firecrackers. The red chain jumped and twisted in his hands as it burned, crackles and bangs coming out in spurts. It was a sight, seeing Yin Hanjiang so utterly charmed – until the firecrackers burned down enough for sparks to hit his skin, and he had to hastily drop them into the river.
Wenren E caught his hand and blew gently over the skin, silencing the last of the sparks. “You didn’t think of dropping it?”
There was a pause. “You gave it to me,” said Yin Hanjiang, a little stubbornly.
“Yin Hanjiang,” said Wenren E, “you are going to need a great deal of storage space to keep everything I intend to give you.”
Their eyes met. Yin Hanjiang smiled.
A shrill whistle came from the opposite riverbank, followed by a scattering of brilliant white light. Wenren E pulled Yin Hanjiang down to sit on the grass as fireworks flowered across the sky – the arrangements that Baili Qingmiao had been making in the Ministry of Rites. There was no Path of Slaughter in this universe, but here, seeing the fireworks burst above the prosperous capital, with Yin Hanjiang next to him, Wenren E felt the same serene peace the Path brought to him.
Yin Hanjiang must have felt something, too. “This is the vision you kept the Path of Slaughter for,” he murmured as the fireworks drew to a close. “To protect the balance between righteous and demonic, to allow the mortal world to experience tonight. This is not the right universe, but…”
Wenren E tangled their fingers together. “Protect it with me, Hanjiang.”
Yin Hanjiang’s breath caught. After a moment, he squeezed their clasped fingers, a wordless promise full of Yin Hanjiang’s particular brand of sincerity. Wenren E leaned his head onto his shoulder.
Above, Polis and Alkaid glittered, radiant in every universe.