sorry had to re-upload this chapter, i hope you enjoy!
The afternoon sun shone bright with a light breeze entering the room, heavily scented with lotus. The evidence of their brother's sacrifice was cast in a golden glow. (Jiang Cheng went into death shrouded in quiet, unlike the comfortable clamour of his everyday life — in Lotus Pier, the absence of sound was far more feared.)
"A-Xian." Shijie said in Jiang Cheng's voice, but the cadence, the rhythm of it all, was unmistakably hers. Jiang Cheng's speech was rougher, often shielded in anger. Wei Wuxian knows the feeling of their voices, he knows the sound of their feet padding on the floors of Lotus Pier, and he constantly aches with this knowledge.
In the dead of night, the sound of gentle rain drumming on the roof of the Jingshi was not dissimilar to Shijie's footsteps after an upset — angry yet controlled. He would wake up immediately, ready to fling open the door to let her in, getting to the main door before realising this wasn't his childhood and she was no longer there, no longer in easy reach. The warmth of Lan Zhan's body against his — against Mo Xuanyu's — was not enough to ground him. Even in the days of the Demon Subduing Cave, he had known; if he were to ask Shijie, even just dodging around the question, she would help instantly. She would do whatever it took. He didn't want her to do that. Not her and not Jiang Cheng — like his sister, if Wei Wuxian simply asked him, in barely a thought, he would help. But that was the whole reason why he left. To protect them.
Shijie carried on, seemingly undaunted, "Did you die? Back then, like I did?" — Jiang Cheng's voice cracked and caused them to flinch — "Is that why you look… different?"
"I — Shijie — " Wei Wuxian stumbled, the words tumbling ungracefully out of his mouth. (Ah, if he was actually here, Wei Wuxian would've been relentlessly mocked, his loss of composure for just a simple reply completely out of character.) Biting his inner lip, he raised his gaze to his shijie, tilting his head to match their eyes. Oh. He was looking up. It was a tiny thing to upset him but since when had he last done so? Not since he was new to Lotus Pier, short and scrawny, only still alive due to his meagre cultivation taught to him by his dead parents. A parasite, craving any kind of warmth he could snatch — sometimes, he thought he hadn't changed at all. But he had sworn to himself, this time it would be different; there was no need for 'sorry' and 'thank you' between him and Lan Zhan. But between himself and Yunmeng Jiang…
Wei Wuxian could barely look at Shijie, at Jiang Cheng['s twisted/mangled features]. In these last years, he had barely mourned Shijie. It would be more forgiving to say he couldn't. The blame laid at his feet; the guilt pressing down on his shoulders, with every movement only an ache; if he acknowledged it, he would be crushed into dust, beyond any kind of repair.
He was… distracted, too distracted to mourn. As hard it was to admit, he had run from his past, avoided it because he couldn't face it headlong.
If he had burnt paper money, worn mourning clothes, carried out the proper mourning rituals would Shijie have still come back? Would she have still taken her brother's body as her own? He averted his eyes, looking at the streaks of sunlight dappled on the table. How could he think this? This was Shijie. She would've never accepted Jiang Cheng's body if she had the choice.
Wei Wuxian forced a smile and tugged on Jiang Cheng's light purple robes, looking towards the teaset resting on the table, "Shijie, would you like to sit down? I can serve you tea and we can talk. I'll explain everything!" Please Shijie, let me do this.
She accepted his plea with a murmured "Of course," and they moved to the table, kneeling opposite each other. On the table, lay the necessary pottery and a choice of two teas: pu'erh, and judging from the smell, the local green tea.
Should he ask her what tea she wanted? She should be given a choice in something, even if it was just tea. He forced himself to look up at her but she was looking away; a pinch of their eyebrows, a twist of their lips and a slight clench of their jaw. Wei Wuxian needed all the concentration given to him by darker teas, so he picked the pu'erh.
Wei Wuxian spooned the pre-broken leaves into the teapot, he quashed any unbidden thoughts from showing, the practised motions of serving tea still ingrained in him, those years of practise under their teachers' careful watch.
It had to be perfect.
"Xianxian…." Shijie whispered, "your hands are shaking… Let your shijie help."
"No!" The denial was fast on his lips. He caught Shijie's falter and saw her hands draw back from where she been reaching out. He amended quietly, "Sorry. I meant to say, I can do it."
He drained the first steep of the tea, cleansing the tea leaves, and readied the second.
The room itself was silent, no words shared between the two, only the gentle ebb and flow of the lake beside them. As much as it would seem calm from an outsider's perspective, the room was anything but.
Wei Wuxian poured the tea into the cups and offered one to her. Shijie gave him a kind smile (wrong, wrong, wrong!) and accepted it, thanking him audibly.
He wrapped his hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into his fingers, hoping slightly the tremble would stop. Staring down into the black tea, he saw Mo Xuanyu's dark eyes. Almost accusing, though his soul was long gone — torn to shreds. He looked away, resting the cup on the table.
Wei Wuxian traced Mo Xuanyu's nails around the pattern on the cup — clearly an expensive piece. He opened his mouth, not at all ready to explain his last few years to his shijie.
"Yeah," Wei Wuxian refilled their tea again, at a pace that was neither fast nor slow, "there are still things I don't know. Either because I didn't ask or…" he shrugged, letting his answer trail off, and gestured vaguely with his free hand — the purple glow of sunset glinted off Zidian, scattering light across the room.
Shijie was wide-eyed. In better circumstances, or well, any other circumstances, Wei Wuxian might've smiled. It was harder than you'd assume to be able to shock her, even when they were young and bright-eyed. Like the different 'treasures' he and Jiang Cheng hunted down for Shijie — if it was anyone else, they surely would've been a little surprised. (The Yunmeng wildlife may have been disturbed. Maybe. And on an unrelated note, he felt bad for the frogs in the area. They probably didn't deserve it.)
But. Her expression. It was… worrying on Jiang Cheng's face. Shijie didn't fit into his body like Jiang Cheng did. For people who knew Mo Xuanyu, would they feel the same? (He had thought it was terrible that no one seemed to know what Mo Xuanyu was really like, but at least they would never have the dissonance of seeing a stranger saunter around in their skin, acting as if it were their own. Mo Xuanyu was only remembered because of him, Wei Wuxian, and no one cared about his death. But this? This was awful. Looking at 'Jiang Cheng' and seeing Shijie inhabiting every inch of him.)
Wei Wuxian hated this. He desperately wanted to make light of it, joke it away like he'd been doing so throughout both his lives, but it was too disrespectful. Hah. The great Yiling Laozu, the demonic cultivator, being respectful of the dead? He had done so many things, killed and tortured so many with their dead allies, friends, even their own fucking family.
He wanted to get out of this room. The earthy smell of tea could not overcome the stench of Jiang Cheng's blood.
Zidian crackled around his finger. He splayed his hand over the ring, feigning nonchalance in his action. But too late, the sparks of reddish-purple had reflected clear in Jiang Cheng's eyes, accompanied with a look that crossed their face so quick that Wei Wuxian didn't know if he had simply imagined it.
"What…" Wei Wuxian started carefully, hesitant to breach the topic, "what do you want to do, Shijie?"
Their face twisted, an expression Wei Wuxian was too familiar with, especially in their childhood — the face Jiang Cheng would make when crying; he made a specific face when suppressing tears, but this was not the same. It wasn't the loud, crumpled face kind of crying, but the kind that he had almost perfected when they were kids. The silent type. Nothing would be able to escape, no vocalisations of any sort, only tears, sinking into the expensive material of his inner sleeves.
(In Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng's crying was a shock. He never would've allowed himself to cry in front of other people, much less in front of other cultivators and sect leaders, Wei Wuxian had once been a companion but after the Burning, he was shut out. That day… it killed Wei Wuxian. He wanted to soothe him so badly but it was no longer within his rights to do so. They had both changed from childhood.)
Shijie didn't cry.
Shijie closed their eyes, breathed out heavily, and spoke, a weak tug at their lips, "What do I want? What I have always wanted, my family."
May we never be separated, Wei Wuxian completed silently, their chest tight with emotion, their promise had been broken far too many times to count.
"And what I would like to do… I don't know. I really, really don't know." Their head jerked up, eyes wide, "A-Xian! Do you know how we can reverse this? Change us back somehow?"
"I — I, " he hesitated; how could she ask him to kill her; he didn't want to be the cause of her death, not again. And Jiang Cheng wouldn't have wanted that — he brought her back and erased himself for her. Disregarding everybody who would ache for him. "I miss you and I miss A-Ch— Jiang Cheng. But, please Shijie… you can't make me choose who lives and who dies between you."
There was a wildfire in their eyes, and Wei Wuxian was certain she was planning on how to bring him back, ready to carve out the insides of her soul, just to make Jiang Cheng live. (He could feel himself burning from the inside out, under Wen Qing's care.)
Jiang Cheng's hand curled around the teacup. It shattered easily.
Wei Wuxian winced at the sound and leant slightly over the table and cradled their hand in his, gently pulling their fingers away from the fragments of bloodied clay. Their new wounds sealed up quickly, Jiang Cheng's cultivation strong and thrumming with power under his touch. (It may have started as Wei Wuxian's core but it became Jiang Cheng's — the power it had when it was his was nothing in comparison. And now, it was Shijie's.)
"Shijie… I can't be sure. I don't even know where he found that array. But if it's any similar to the one I made, his soul might be gone. Erased forever."
"We still have to try!"
"I never said we shouldn't. I just think we shouldn't be too hopeful." Even as Wei Wuxian spoke, his mind still protested. 明知不可为而为之. To know what is impossible, and do it anyway. The Yunmeng Jiang motto was remembered easily, embedded deep in his heart. He had always strived to be true to it.
He looked to Shijie and saw their lips pressed together in a firm line, their grey eyes dark and stormy. Did Wei Wuxian really stay true to it? These recent years alive, all without even attempting to reconnect with his brother. Sure, Jiang Cheng had threatened his life, but he had chance, after chance, after chance to reveal to the cultivation world that he was the Yiling Patriarch, and had never followed through.
Even while furious at him, he had never actually done anything. At Lotus Pier, in the Jiang Ancestral Hall, Wei Wuxian had been overcome with rage and physically attacked first. Jiang Cheng's spiritual energy still hadn't recovered from the Siege and hadn't dodged at all. Wei Wuxian could still remember the look of shock and disbelief from the blood spilt. After Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng pulled out their weapons, Wei Wuxian remembered they were fighting in front of Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen and all of Jiang Cheng's ancestors and passed out. During that time, that was when Wen Ning had revealed to Jiang Cheng about the core. He hadn't found out about it until the Guanyin Temple.
And at Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng brought him Chenqing. Chenqing.
It was just a thought. Just a little tiny smouldering hope but maybe. Just maybe, Jiang Cheng didn't hate him, maybe he had never hated him in the first place! Those weren't the acts of someone who despised another. Wei Wuxian would know, considering just about everything. Perhaps his and Jiang Cheng's brotherhood hadn't been doomed to fail. (After all, all around Lotus Pier, there had been no dogs. Not even a single glimpse. Even after so many years, they still weren't allowed.)
Do it anyway.
Back then, he wasn't the head disciple, the da-shixiong, for nothing.
As much as he recalled saying to Jiang Cheng that their time together was in the past, just a previous life — it wasn't. Not really. Not to him. Their childhood together? Wei Wuxian wouldn't give that up for anything. And damned if he would let himself break another promise to Jiang Cheng; they would be brothers again in their next lives.
He would find and drag his soul back together with his dying breath. His soul couldn't be erased. He wouldn't allow it.
"So, what's your plan?" Shijie tilted their head, a slow smile grew on their lips. The siblings shared equally determined looks, it was time to find their brother.
Jiang Cheng scowled, looking down at the two men lain defeated on the ground, rolling his shoulder absently; it was uncommon to see bandits in Yunmeng, his reputation as Sandu Shengshou usually warded these types of outsiders off.
Strange. He would have to investigate and look into the local watchtowers soon. The bandits weren't even too powerful, to be so easily defeated.
Jiang Cheng rescanned the trees around him, looking for any other 'friends.' Finding none, he continued in the direction he was previously walking, treading carefully for pitfalls and loose roots, lest he trip and fall. Again.
Hmm. The watchtowers. They did have a rough start, with Yunmeng Jiang obliged to aid them. But they had become popular amongst the non-cultivator society and a few of the minor clans. Well. At least until Jin Guangyao's lies were revealed. Jiang Cheng huffed, that had destroyed their reputation. It was a pity, they had been useful enough.
In the aftermath of Jin Guangyao's death, Jiang Cheng was primarily looking out for Jin Ling. Or rather, Jin Rulan, before, he avoided using it. Jiang Cheng couldn't help the small smile from crossing his face, A-Ling had grown so much. It was a constant surprise — one of the better surprises he'd received in his life. It had annoyed Jiang Cheng that he couldn't look out more for him, but he knew how it would seem to the other sects, it would only undermine Jin Ling's power. Jiang Cheng did as much as he could to try and lessen his stress though.
He scoffed to himself, he could admit to himself that he would always be worried about Jin Ling. But he had faith in his sister and A-Ling — they would be amazing together.
Jiang Cheng refocused back on the path, and stepped over another large root and sighed. In all fairness, not many used this forest pathway, but still. Ugh.
A-Ling… Thinking of him always reminded Jiang Cheng of when A-Ling was a baby. When Jiang Cheng was younger, he had always been told of how calm and quiet he was, with very little outside help necessary. (A-Jie had cooed over him, and pinched his cheeks and reassured him he was just as cute. He'd pretended his flushed cheeks were only from her pinching and nothing else, but he didn't think she'd ever believed him.) From experience, it was hard to think any baby was quiet. A-Ling was so loud and slightly screechy.
Rocking A-Ling to sleep had very quickly worn off, and Jiang Cheng felt too bad leaving him alone to cry, so he just strapped him to his chest and carried on with his everyday work around Lotus Pier — he was only ever less tetchy when they were at the training hall, the sound or atmosphere or something had soothed him. A-Ling was an absolute menace; still is, he thought with little bite. Jiang Cheng swallowed back the tightness in his throat, reminding himself of how A-Jie would reunite with A-Ling and Wei Wuxian. The feeling of constriction didn't leave.
Hopefully, A-Jie would like what he left her. He was caught between brewing tea for her or not, eventually deciding if he brewed some, the tea would be too bitter. So Jiang Cheng left a choice between dark or green tea leaves. Jiang Cheng did want her to have some sort of choice (what he did was for her and A-Ling but the other aspects… he just wanted her happy.) A couple of weeks ago, he was staring at a list of any and all possible teas, seized with indecision, which one would she want? He wracked his memories trying to remember which one she drank more and found nothing; just memories of the ones their parents, and he and Wei Wuxian liked. Bringing twenty samples of tea was unfortunately not a great idea so he had to keep knocking ideas off the list, eventually down to two.
If he were to be honest, Jiang Cheng was never really certain what foods were A-Jie's favourite. With Wei Wuxian, it was easy, lotus and pork rib soup, he talked about it all the time (and stole younger him's ribs right from under his nose, jokes on Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng preferred the lotus roots. But it wasn't like he'd give it up without a fight.). After that, anything with spice and a noticeable flavour, then anything else spicy. At least he was better than A-Jie, when they were younger, he'd seen her calmly drink a cup of Wei Wuxian's favourite chilli oil, Lao Shigong, without any effects when Wei Wuxian had tried, and failed hilariously.
Snickering to himself, Jiang Cheng proceeded to walk head-first into someone, an extremely tall someone. Great. Just great.
He craned his neck up, twisting his lips. The man wasn't even that tall. Probably just the average height of non-cultivators. Nothing too special.
Jiang Cheng wasn't especially used to being the shortest. But he didn't enjoy being called short either — especially by people who weren't even half a cun taller than him. (In the back of his head, he wondered why he was so irritated, these matters hadn't been an issue for decades.)
The man was clad in layered grey and blue robes, well used and a good quality. A travelling merchant, perhaps. His hands — around the same height as Jiang Cheng's eye level, unfortunately — had callouses around his thumb and palms, with dark stains around his fingertips. Similar to tung oil stains, the popular wood oil; a woodworker then. Jiang Cheng was heavily involved in all aspects of Lotus Pier's reconstruction, but all this only reminded him of Li Ya's wood carvings left in the room, which accompanied a heaviness in his sleeve. All of Jiang Cheng's strange new immaturity and for what purpose? He should've arrived at Lotus Pier hours ago.
His eyes trailed back to the man. If he was moving by caravan… it wouldn't be extremely difficult to sneak on and jump off when they were near A-Jie. With his lack of sword, and inconsistent spiritual powers, this would be one of his only opportunities. He twisted his wrist, but it felt bare.
Before he had to chance to speak, the other said to himself, "A kid?" with a slight crease between his eyebrows, he added stiffly, "Where are your parents? ...Are you lost?"
"I'm not lost." Jiang Cheng said instantly; then he readjusted his travel plans, lowered his eyes and lied, injecting a little embarrassment into his tone, "Well, maybe a little lost."
"Oh!" the man's mouth twitched, and he continued with humour, "Ah, would you li—"
"Qing-er! What's taking you so long!" a loud voice interrupted from further behind 'Qing-er.'
The man sighed, and turned his head to answer, "Nainai! I found a lost kid."
A short pause. "What?"
Qing-er reiterated at a slower pace, "There's a small kid here."
"Yes, yes. I heard you the first time xiao Qing-er," the grandmother replied. Jiang Cheng heard the man huff quietly in exasperation. "Bring them back here."
Shrugging, Jiang Cheng looked up to the man, willing to be brought along; it fit his plans after all. It wasn't like they could best him.
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