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There is a monster in the skin of a man, a brother, a beloved, a soldier. The monster tilts its head at them, eyes like pools of blood, dripping down its face. There is a monster in the skin of a man, and it grins at them, teeth bared in a mockery of a smile, sharp, gleaming white. "Jiang Cheng," it croons, opening its arms and approaching him, hands wreathed in shadow. Jiang Wanyin falters, stumbling back, away, but it doesn't falter, smile curving into something somehow even more unnatural, a thing of delight taken in someone's fear. Jiang Wanyin freezes, eyes wide, trembling, when it curls it's arms around him, too stiff to truly be a hug. "How nice of you to come find me!" it says, pulling back. Jiang Wanyin shakes and steps away, hand clenched around Sandu.
Then, then, it turns towards him, and when he flinches instinctively, its blood eyes glow with damning understanding. The grin widens, baring it's bloodied gums. " Lan Zhan," it steps closer, and he steps away, a painfully familiar move. It holds its hands out, shadows dissipating to reveal one hand covered in scars, scratches, crusted with blood. There is no other. In his periphery, Jiang Wanyin flinches at the sight.
"Lan Zhan," it says, softly, gently, no hint of the childish mischievousness, only cold calculation. "Won't you say hello? Won't you hold me? Won't you comfort me?" A hint of a smirk. "We both know you want to," it whispers. Jiang Wanyin rears back in shock, realisation. Lan Wangji takes another step backwards, feeling like the gaping void in the pit of his stomach widening.
"You know nothing," Lan Wangji says coldly. "You are not Wei Ying."
It tilts its head with a slight crack of bone. They flinch. "No," it admits, smile not faltering. "I am not your Wei Ying." It taps at its lips as though pondering a problem. "But surely that would not dissuade you. After all, you hated him. You turned away from him. You rejected him at every turn. Surely if you want him, it would only be for his body?" Lan Wangji has to force himself to stay in place. He does not owe this creature an explanation.
"Your Wei Ying died in agony, thinking death would be better to him than life ever was. His brother and sister did not need him to burden them, his friends all burned to death because of him, and you, oh he died knowing you loathed every breath he took."
A ragged sound tears itself from his throat, unbidden, raw pain coalescing into something too broken to be a sob.
It smiles. "I knew better. I told him, of course. I could see where he could not, I could see how you desired him. I could see how your eyes followed his body even as you spurned his presence every time he tried to show you who he is." It reaches out with bony fingers, patting Lan Wangji's cheek softly. He flinches back. "I only let him die after. It was so delightful to see how his soul ached at knowing that the only redeemable facet of his being was his body, that he would be rejected from life itself for being anything other than a pretty, pretty face."
It grins, wiping away a tear that slips from Lan Wangji's eyes. It's a fruitless endeavour, as more follow. "What are you," he asks brokenly. "How—why—"
It sighs, scratching at its nose. "Sorry, children, you got boring much quicker than I thought." It turns back towards the building, narrowing its eyes. "I have better things to do than deal with little boys that don't know how to appreciate what they have," it says, sending a knowing look at Jiang Wanyin, tapping a finger at the dip in its throat, right on top of an old, unhealed, yellowing bruise the shape of a hand. Jiang Wanyin stumbles backwards, pupils constricted to pinpricks.
It saunters off towards the ruined building. Within seconds, Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu's screams follow.