Chapter Text
Death is an expression of words, but easily told in one, painful.
No mere mortal could counter that, as even the most peaceful of deaths is a means to departure from life.
But one in particular would become a symphony played out for years to come.
The death — life of Wei WuXian.
Lying there lifelessly as he is torn apart by what he once created, consumed in a dark energy, unable to move, see, breathe, hear, or speak. Cries for help bubble to the surface only to fizzle out when lips shakily part, breath but a prison for words. Flesh rips off the bone by these monstrous beasts, skin peeling back with each layer: epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis.
A mass of muscles with tendons eaten down to the bone like fried meats sold at nearby stands. Teeth of evil dig into all parts of his thinning body—yet no scream could be heard through the sheer tarnish. Only the sound of ghoulish delight as they feasted upon his lively blood and eventually bones; that is all that came from the shroud. A foggy cloud risen from the ground in tendrils, thick and dense, giving no indication of what happens inside. Freakish noises came from the beasts as the scene that would cause any cultivator to tremble went unseen by such onlookers.
His screams, which eventually came at the winding of life, fall on deaf ears.
Pitiful.
Numbness that only a human could produce—though the one in question drew parallels to that of a demon—started to emerge from within. As the grueling feel of exposed entrails became nothing more than a tickle, death was upon him. Bony white fingers dug into the dirt, clinging to the soil to no avail. A fading soul desperate to live cries silently with an outstretched hand for someone to hold, to begrudgingly pull him from the darkness.
Selfishness is innate in humans.
He was no God.
As time unfolds, corpses and ghostly energy leave him a tethered remain. A head with no feet, or feet with no head. Just mass stuck in a mindless state.
No one could say otherwise about this pathetic display of a once proud man now reduced to a mere puppet. Toyed with through life and plucked away mercilessly in death.
To die meant to abandon all life.
Yet, as this burning numbness stretches on and on, a wondering mind asks to no one, who will take care of Jiang Cheng? What shall happen to Jin Ling and Wen Yuan?
Most importantly, one cannot repent for sins if they are not alive to ask forgiveness. Death was a cheap cop-out. An easy fix that will leave few people happy, regardless of how many showed up with a sword in hand on these Burial Mounds.
Or maybe that’s what he wants to hear. Pretend someone cares enough to mourn his death.
Was there no one?
No.
The ones who did care all died.
And he, who went in and out of consciousness, killed them.
Death.
Is sweet—
some would say pure.
With outstretched arms, oh death was inviting. A way out for even the worst of people, enough to give them peace of mind.
Enough for him to think that it’s all okay.
It is not fair.
Time passes.
A weight pushes against raw shoulders, or what should’ve been shoulders but is now carnage.
This is death, he thought, I am dead.
Though unable to move an inch, panic did not settle into the hopeless man who was eager to welcome an end. Were these the last moments of life, better yet, the first greetings of death.
And what of the accomplishments left unfinished, there were still so many words to say to people. Yet greediness caused an early grave. To die by the very things, he brought back.
Ironic.
Instead of mulling over that bitter thought, a springboard of life achievements is much easier to digest. The parents he barely remembers after losing them at a young age came first. A small boy sitting on a short-legged donkey while either parent stood on each side.
Simple memory it was.
Then came a new family; two parents, a younger brother, and an older sister.
Perfect.
In there was a vacant spot where a faceless boy in dirty rags took up, suddenly the new family began to crack.
Even when the boy got older, forming a golden core, and became a diligent young man, the cracks in the Jiang family deepen.
That boy was him.
And the cracks were made with his doing.
Then—
Gusu Lan.
Lan Zhan.
Fire.
Demonic cultivation,
Pain.
Wen Yuan.
Ah—
Wen Yuan. Wen Yuan. Wen Yuan.
Pain beyond physical seep into the pits of his core—the lack of it. Crusty red lips spread into what might be called a smile, it stung, faltering.
He envisions the Wen Child, whose mother passed, leaving the child of only three parentless. That naïve child who could barely walk, stumbling around in rickety old shoes. The rosy cheeks of this baby who didn’t quite know what world they were born into, it was cruel, yet he held onto them with hope.
Brought life into Wei WuXian.
The night every clan conspired to attack he put Wen Yuan in a hollowed-out tree. It snowed like no other that night, and a child who still tumbled while walking was nestled into a hunk of wood, all alone.
And now?
Say nobody found Wen Yuan, if the sun rising and setting is not a figment of his imagination, many days have already passed.
If Wen Yuan died….
Time passes once more.
It flickers with no purpose as if to torment him further. Yet, now all he is, is a motionless blob, holding onto nothing save for thoughts to keep him sane. Perhaps this is atonement for how he lived life, using others by means necessary in a twisted view of heroism.
Such a hero he was!
Protecting people by savagely wronging others. To feel needed by someone and wanted by those who would’ve accepted him if he’d only stopped to listen to their pleas. Yet somehow every single person he hoped to save had died. Then he became a burnt-out fool who didn’t know when to stop. Led on by anger at everyone but himself.
No, that wasn’t true. The anger burnt into his core-less frame every day on those burial mounds. As he padded to the dark cave to lie down, avoiding unnecessary contact with others, the flames of self-hatred could not be outrun.
Anger is him.
Was.
Here he lays, a skeleton of a man, gnawed at by darkness till flesh became bones and blood dries into dirt. Nothing in the darkness but an active mind that fights itself for rest—begs to shut off and release itself from worldly attachments like the rest of his body.
Hours among hours of the same images, same people, and same events replay like a mantra.
At least as time went on the coherent strings of thoughts became more jumbled. It became harder to recite life to death in an orderly fashion; even better, the murders which he orchestrated no longer held so much weight.
They hurt, but not as much.
Like a rope attaching itself to his memories, lacing them all together, and slowly— so slowly— it tugs away until nothing remains.
Time passes.
Peaceful days trickle on freely. Sunny days that went uncared for when living suddenly held importance. It neuters him— fertilizing the ground he lies on. One day, dirt will inhale his rotten remains and breath a new life.
Then — as if to curse him for enjoying this languid moment, senses long forgotten crash in the way high tides do to a boulder.
Except he was no longer a boulder but a puny pebble.
A granule of sand.
Ears ring, eyes sting, skin tingles, and a putrid smell strikes him. The previous pains that fade over time, a once silent scream rips from his chest in a blood-curdling manner. Skin rises from the soil and reconnects with decaying bones. The exposed flesh that no human would be able to endure consumes every fiber of Wei WuXian.
Limbs don’t move as they should and through the fogginess, the sunken figure of himself is displayed. Distorted to a fault it induces nausea to stinging lips.
“Why,” A single word leaves him gasping. The awkward bug-like movements came to a halt against the dirt ground. The air smelt of rotting corpses—a scent that took the longest to forget. Was he made to live and die over and over or had he just grown accustomed to sedimentary conditions that didn’t befit his sinful life.
Thinking, which kept him sane this whole time, starts to bring about a painful throb. Fuzziness overrode every thought, swirling around in spirals, hypnotizing pain.
Parched lips open to once more let out a cry, but the passage of time made it foreign. Stuck with the searing heat of open wounds at the forefront, speaking wasn’t even an option. Skin rebuilt itself from bone to flesh and the once concave body fills itself out.
As quick as the pain had come it left, leaving a heaviness in its departure. He had no time to recover properly as a creeping sound of heavy footsteps freeze him. Each step louder and louder—
Thunderous.
Hearing after a long time in a deafened state heighten each noise. His ear drums pound from the footsteps that he fears they will burst.
It stops right beside him, dyspnea breathes quicken.
An eerie silence hangs in the air.
Heavy eyes open, staring up at a looming silhouette, a tall figure whose stature made their face unrecognizable.
…
His heart is heard in the silence, it speeds up upon that realization.
〔 We have been watching you. 〕
A voice that could silence all of mankind speaks, reminding the once confident man of how mortal he was.
〔 Watching until you were ready. It took long but we are here to lend you an offer. 〕
“…”
〔 Do you want to live? 〕
Such a simple question dangles like luxurious fruit on a vine. Wei WuXian trembles.
〔 You do. Mm... Of course, we do. 〕
〔 Take my offer, Wei Ying. 〕
“Who…you…?” Words came out croaky.
〔I am not the hands of death, nor fate, neither life.〕
“Who, then?”
〔 Accept my offer and I shall tell you, our name. 〕
Who are you? What did I do to call upon you? Why can’t I die already?
Each question dances at the tip of his tongue, drying up before they escape. None of it mattered.
Cracked lips open to utter a singular word, “No.”
It bent forward, even in such close proximity its silhouette remains cloudy.
〔We want to live but you won't take my offer.〕
It was not a question.
Curious eyes show through the dark outline, fluorescent gray orbs inches from Wei Ying’s face.
Another tremble.
〔 Pathetic . 〕
Rising again these pale eyes watch incredulously causing Wei WuXian to squirm. An apparition of a hand stirs all movement as the outlined fingers slide into his forehead. It was a violating act, intimate with its coldness that press past skin and skull. Weak whines left Wei WuXian as the foreign sensation caresses at his brain.
〔 Humans are weak. Even when presented with an option of life you grovel and deny yourself that freedom because of pride. 〕
〔 A foolish concept for silly things. 〕
〔 But we were never the brightest. 〕
The fingers press further till they reach the core of Wei WuXian’s mind.
〔 I wonder. Will your decision remain after you witness what your death has caused? 〕
Weak groans bubble past parted lips, as a flood of images filter over his glossy eyes.
“Fuck...” Jiang Cheng sat back against a wall, nursing a bottle in one hand and his mothers' infamous whip in the other. Drunken shouting came from the familiar downturned lips before the mutter of a name started up slowly. “Wei WuXian…Wei WuXian…Wei WuXian. Bastard. Stupid!”
Jiang Cheng throughs the clay bottle hard enough for it to shatter, its intricate details and savory substance dirtying the wood floor.
“You bastard. You dare—you dare to leave me alone after taking everyone? Curse you! You- you- did you get to rest after all this?!”
The whip that once incited fear into Wei WuXian thrashes from Jiang Cheng crazily. Swinging with murderous intent.
Despite such hostility the white part of violet eyes became red not just from alcohol, but unshed tears. Ruining the scary image that Jiang Cheng tries to paint—always tried to paint.
Wei WuXian saw him—his brother.
The same one who love for dogs never went away, who loves their sister’s Lotus Root and Pork soup, and fought to protect those important.
“Wei WuXian…Sister…. What do I do?”
Among bottles of alcohol and a stubbly beard, Jiang Cheng was still Jiang Cheng. A person who needed the warmth of a loved one and a reassuring smile to keep going. Who was most confident when the people he loves are within arm's reach.
Wei WuXian took such simple needs from him.
Gray eyes close, unable to endure watching his A-Cheng suffer, the images don’t disappear, but change.
Now it was someone else.
An image of milky white skin came into view, that of snow which could make young maidens jealous. It is a bit more intimate than Wei WuXian would like, but he can’t seem to peel his eyes away, not when the body reveals its owner's face.
Lan Zhan.
Immersed in the chilly Gusu Lan water, a beautiful image that Wei WuXian has glanced upon only once in his years came into view. Except for this time broad shoulders and a defined jaw came with it.
The Lan WangJi in this image turns away, back facing Wei WuXian to reveal long wilted marks all over the mountainous pale back. Horror paints Wei WuXian who tries to recall when such wounds could have occured.
During the war? After? By whom, and better yet, for what reason?
Those were no normal wounds, not even Madam Yu, who beat him with Zidian throughout childhood, left such scars.
These ones were deeper.
Angry.
Desperate.
Still open and raw, as if they hadn’t yet healed. Wouldn’t ever.
Lan WangJi sinks into the water, black hair clinging to porcelain skin and floating on the water's surface. Golden eyes were dark, mute, and empty, unlike what Wei Ying remembered, “I’m sorry…Wei Ying.” The rough voice of a man who has lived many more years since his death is heard.
Heavy, broken, and hopeless.
“Cannot find you,” Golden stares in Wei Ying’s direction, and their eyes met. Or so he believes before Lan WangJi glances away, up at cloudy skies. “Where are you?”
Wei WuXian shudders, bottom lip quivering.
“Where did the wind take you?”
Did Lan WangJi search for him in all these years?
Why?
Golden eyes turn away once more as a young boy of teenage years crouch near the spring water edge. Soft features, pale skin, and gray eyes. “A-die.” A youthful voice says full of concern directed at Lan WangJi.
The man in question remains unmoving, even the water seems to cease its flow. “Why are you here?” Despite a rude tone, people trained in Lan WangJi’s manner of speech knew there was little malice behind such words.
Wei WuXian knew—and that child as well could understand, offering a small smile.
“You didn’t put any ointment on the scars, a-die.”
“I’m fine.”
“Let me help…” Lan WangJi didn’t reply, only resigning himself against the stones that outlined the water, giving the teen access to his back. Silence passes between the two—thick and heavy, yet somehow not uncomfortable.
Normal for them.
Once Normal for Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi.
Wei WuXian watches in awe as the stone-faced Lan WangJi’s features became delicate.
Vulnerable.
The boy takes out a small satchel, opening it to pull out a container full of cream. In practice, with careful motions, the soft fingers rubbed ointment into the tethered skin, and Lan Zhan’s face remained blank.
“A-die.”
“Mn.”
“Do you…” Another scoop of ointment, “love Wei WuXian?”
Wei WuXian’s cheeks heat up in time with Lan WangJi’s ears flush red. He wanted to shout out to that foolish kid for asking such a question. “Why on earth would Lan Zhan like me,’ he croaks out, “How embarrassing. Really. Lan WangJi likes pretty girls like the rest of us, surely!”
Yet—curious eyes continue to stare at the image, watching the silent Lan WangJi whose face now looked just like Wei WuXian felt. Coral lips, wet with water, spread to reply. But before an answer came the image shut off, leaving Wei WuXian with darkness and the looming silhouette.
To cut a man off at such an important moment was just as criminal as eating Sister’s soup without chili flakes. Wei WuXian grunts, squirming around like a worm.
〔 Angry? 〕
…
〔 Haha . 〕
Fuck—I’m being laughed at.
〔 Wouldn’t you like to return? All these years have passed, and tears are still being shed for you. 〕
“What is the point? Everyone is gone.”
〔 You don’t listen. 〕
“You haven’t exactly explained yourself.”
〔 Your return, it won’t be as you are now, but before. 〕
“…as in?”
〔 Think 〕
He tries.
Still, the sheer idea of returning to life, to change the fate of those he wronged, was tantalizing. But would anyone who already died come back? The pain of losing people still remains, Sister would remain buried along with Uncle and Madam Yu.
Jiang Cheng though shedding tears for him, would no doubt come at him with scorn.
All the Wen remnants did not get to come back even if they were more deserving. Such an offer did not come without a price.
His return might cause more destruction.
He is destruction.
As if reading his mind, it spoke in a maternal tone—buttery and warm.
〔Oh, Wei Ying, you try so hard, but you are only a man. Why not be selfish? We will send you back. 〕
“No…”
〔 What is it you’re concerned with? 〕
“Who would want me? Leave me be.”
〔 You are foolish. 〕
Fingers embedded into his skull come out with little gentleness. A splitting headache forms the second they leave. Cries of pain spill past Wei WuXian.
A human cry.
It stands there, ignoring those cries like a cruel stepmother.
〔 Think of this as a blessing, not a curse Wei Ying. How about this. I will return you to the very beginning instead. 〕
“…”
〔 Before anyone’s death. Your poor sister will be alive once more, and able to live a life with her child. 〕
〔 Jiang Cheng will not resent you. 〕
〔 You will be atoned. Wei Ying. 〕
“…”
〔 What do you say? Deal? 〕
“…Why?”
〔 There are reasons beyond you, just know that my word is truthful. 〕
“What is the catch?”
Those luminous orbs flash red for a moment, when Wei WuXian blinks, they return to a natural gray glow.
Had he imagined that?
〔 To return to the start I will take something of value from you. Not a person or object, but yourself. 〕
“Start?”
〔 Yes, but don’t worry. I will take something fitting for your return. 〕
“What do you mean?”
〔 Hm. 〕
〔 Wei Ying. Will you accept my offer? 〕
“I can restart my whole life?”
…
〔… Yes. But if you return to a child, you will have the brain of one. Most of the memories will not return right away, but they will eventually. Then. I hate to repeat ourselves but, will you take this offer? 〕
Gray eyes stare into gray orbs, squinting slightly. He shrugs.
Teeth in a long row expose themselves in a blinding smile. Oddly familiar yet uncanny in its display.
〔Wonderful! Oh- how great. Then, we should speed this process along…〕
“Wait — I still don’t know who you are or what you are taking.”
〔 Don’t worry with that, you’ll know in time. 〕
“I’m worried, what is it you want?”
〔 The same thing you want. 〕
“Huh?”
A glow outlines his body as it starts to lift from the ground. Seemingly weightless. Warmth envelopes him, brings him to a state that allows no thoughts or worries to penetrate.
〔I must say…we almost had…this time…live.〕
The last few words are muffled out like someone put cotton swabs deep into his ears. Wei WuXian lets out a terribly long sigh, body melting into the coziness that is slumber.