Chapter Text
There was unrest in Yiling.
As the Yiling Patriarch’s undead army rose to his melancholic call, the once boisterous streets emptied of people, of life. The air was thick with resentment, heavy with the premonition of blood.
Yiling had not forgotten the war, its wounds not yet healed. But as houses were vacated, Wen and Yiling huddling together up in the Burial Mounds, awaiting violence, there was hope.
The dizi sang of protection, after all.
Yiling-ge would protect them.
Nie Huaisang walked past the rising undead, steady and inexorable, towards the sea of white.
He was wearing his Sect’s colors, ash and blood, hair pinned up elegantly with a silver pin, sleeves long and immaculate.
He was unhurried in his gait, but steel lined his jaw. Fire burned in his eyes.
“Er-ge,” He called, letting his voice boom and carry with the burn of his core. Ghosts echoed his pleas, the rolling waves of resentment brushing against his fingers, like a caring pet.
The sea of white parted, slowly, restlessly. Weapons were pointed out of the way, even as the Song of Clarity rang, pushing the heavy energy away from them.
“Huaisang!” The man leading the march hurried over to him, sword in hand, a tide of white closing ranks in his wake. His forehead ribbon fluttered in the air. “Huaisang, it’s okay, I’m here now. We’re here now, we’ll help you. Did the Yiling Laozu send you? Or did you escape? Is your brother safe—?”
“Dage is safe.” Nie Huaisang’s voice wavered, confusion warring with his fear, unease, with the age-old comfort of being by Lan Xichen’s side. “Er-ge, what are you talking about? What are you doing here?”
“I read your letter.” Lan Xichen said, grasping his forearm with his free hand, Shuoye in the other. His army on stand-by at his back. “I’m here to rescue you, A-Sang. Go with Wangji, he will keep you safe, and I will go get dage—”
All coherent thought left Nie Huaisang, any sensible attempts at keeping the peace and not provoking an attack on his people fleeing his mind as he lunged at the man he considered an older brother, shaking him violently by the shoulders.
“Are you an idiot!? I tell you I got married and you bring an army to my home!?” He berated him, and if the situation was slightly less fraught he would have laughed at Xichen’s bulging eyes and caught expression. “What part of it’s been a while, let me show you around my new home led you to believe I was being held hostage!?”
“We thought it was code.” Lan Xichen replied, dumbstruck. “Sange has been keeping tabs on Dage’s last known whereabouts. Huaisang, you were missing.”
“I got married!”
“War-bride, we thought.” He replied, meekly.
“War criminal, if you don’t shut up.” Nie Huaisang said, hands fisted in his robe. “Erge, I’m about to commit fratricide.”
“Unhand him.” Lan fucking Wangji appeared next to them as if from thin air, a minuscule dip in his forehead as he stared down at Nie Huaisang. Bichen glinted in his hand.
Sensing the many unfavorable things about to spill from Nie Huaisang’s mouth, Lan Xichen hurried to put on a smile and say, “Wangji, it appears that things are not as I thought. Help me send everyone back.”
Lan Wangji blinked once. Then again, at his brother, in his own version of befuddled surprise.
“Ah, I know, Wangji, this is…” He looked back at Huaisang, something lingering in his expression. “A-Sang, I do not mean to doubt you. But this is all very… Unexpected.”
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Nie Huaisang released him, arms open at his side. “I am well, aren’t I?”
“What about his army of undead?” Lan Wangji glanced at Huaisang’s back, where resentment lingered.
“You brought an army to our doorstep. What, did you expect we would welcome you with open arms?” Nie Huaisang laughed and it was unkind.
“Desecrating graves and making puppets out of the dead is not—”
“Careful of what you are accusing us of, Lan-er-gongzi.” Nie Huaisang warned, fear and anger fighting for his voice.
It would never cease to amaze him, how quickly opinions changed, how quickly they were to judge.
“Okay,” Lan Xichen stepped between them, an amiable smile on his lips. His sword was sheathed, and he brought his hands up to bow at him, respectfully. “We appear to have neglected greeting you properly, Nie… ah, Wen-zongzhu?”
“Wei, actually.” Nie Huaisang breathed out, as Lan Wangji followed his brother’s gestures, mutiny in his eyes if not in his posture. “And I’m not the Sect Leader, Wei Wuxian is. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
Mirth danced in Lan Xichen’s eyes, a tentative acceptance blooming on his face. “Of course. And Dage…?”
“Is receiving treatment.” Nie Huaisang said, fervent. “He’s... better. Between Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian, I don’t think there’s anything they can’t do. I believe Dage will get better.”
Lan Xichen closed his eyes.
“Can I see him?”
Nie Huaisang frowned at him. “Send your stupid army away first.”
Lan Wangji glowered at him over his laughing brother’s shoulder.
“Xichen!? What are you—!? Ah, I should—” Nie Mingjue’s eyes bulged comically the moment he noticed the other man, struggling to sit up despite all the needles sticking out of his body as if he were a pin cushion.
“No, no, please. Rest. Dage, it’s okay, rest—“ Xichen hurried to stop him, voice warbling, even as his hands remained steady over his skin. They stared at each other. “You… are well.”
“Mn. You too? Sorry, I think I have a lot of catching up to do. Did something happen? What are you doing here? Do you need assistance—?”
“Dage, it’s okay. We’re okay. I just...” Embarrassed, but clearly not wanting to tell a relaxed Nie Mingjue of everything that had been about to happen, Lan Xichen found himself at a loss for words. But looking back at the bedridden man, whose eyes were clear as the mountain air, it wasn’t that hard, truly. “I missed you.”
“…Who are you and what have you done with my sworn brother?” Nie Mingjue squinted at him, even as a blush stole across his face.
“Dage!”
“It is unlike you to be so direct.” Nie Mingjue grumbled, reaching back for his hand. “…It is not unwelcome. I... I missed you too. I must apologize, I should have greeted you when you arrived instead of—”
“No, no, I mean it, it’s alright. I… This was very much not planned at all. Ah.”
“We wanted to surprise you, Dage.”
Nie Mingjue closed his eyes, all-suffering as his brother waltzed into his room, fan in hand. “Wen-daifu has said surprises are bad for my health, didi.”
“What isn’t bad for your health?” Nie Huaisang whined, but the levity in his tone allowed Xichen to relax. “And this surprise seems to be doing you good, I should say.”
“You’re lucky I’m bedridden.”
“You love me.” Nie Huaisang grinned mischievously and fled before his brother could retaliate with a shouted. “Erge, meet me outside when you are done smooching my brother!”
“Nie Huaisang!”
“Of course, A-Sang.”
“Lan-zongzhu. Welcome to the Burial Mounds.”
“Wei-gongzi, ah apologies, Wei-zongzhu, thank you.“
To his amusement, Wei Wuxian sighed overdramatically but didn’t protest as he busied himself with bringing tea over to their table.
Lan Xichen rose to stop him from pouring their tea, but his hands were swatted away by a grumbling Wei Wuxian.
“What, are you afraid the terrible Yiling Laozu is going to poison your tea?”
“Of course not. I just thought it would be impolite, given how I…”
“Bah! You’re a guest, a guest I say!” Wei Wuxian waved him off, serving his tea and sliding it over to him before serving everyone else. As if Xichen were truly a guest, and not someone who had led a deadly army to his doorstep.
Lan Xichen took the first sip, then waited until Wei Wuxian was seated.
“This humble guest must apologize.” Lan Xichen began softly, eyes going from Nie Huaisang to Wei Wuxian, in their matching outfits, in their joined hands. “I let rumors get the better of me.”
“But… We made sure to spread rumors about our engagement… We are going to hold a wedding after the next cultivation meeting,” Wei Wuxian’s head snapped to Nie Huaisang, as if this too, were news to him. “Even if you thought I had been… stolen as a war bride, or whatever silly idea you had, why was your first move to bring war to Yiling?”
“A-Sang, you went missing.” Lan Xichen began, voice soft. “No word from you for weeks, months even. And then we learn that the Yiling Laozu had… well, taken a husband as a reward for his achievements during the war. And then Dage went missing when he went to look for you. I couldn’t just sit around any longer.”
“That doesn’t match A-Xian’s character, erge.” Nie Huaisang chastised. “You know him, you’ve fought alongside him. So, why…?”
“Because I rescued the Wen dogs.” Wei Wuxian said, a bitter smile dancing on pale lips. “Because I chose to side with the Wen instead of with the rest of ye hallowed heroes.”
“You acted unpredictably.” Lan Xichen’s voice wavered, and he lowered his gaze in shame. “And yes. You allied yourself with the… with those we had sworn to defeat.”
“Aiyah, okay, come on. I’m not one to hold grudges. You called off your army. You are here, listening to us. So, why don’t we start again?”
Lan Xichen looked at him, at them and his shoulders lowered a fraction of an inch. There was relief in his smile as he said, “It would be my pleasure.”
“Lan-zongzhu.”
“…Wen-daifu. How may I be of assistance?”
“…As you know, I have been taking care of Nie-zhonghu’s health.”
“Mn. I am endlessly thankful for that. Is… Is there something you need my help with?”
“…While treating him, I noticed some discrepancies and… I have reason to believe that the decline in Nie Mingjue’s health is not entirely due to his Saber.”
“… How do you mean?”
“…I asked you here because I trust you would do anything if it meant protecting Nie Mingjue. Am I right to believe that?”
“Yes. I would. What is it?”
“…Someone is trying to murder Nie Mingjue.”
Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang were still trying to calm down everyone in Yiling, that no, no war was breaking out —and that no, they hadn’t killed Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen, thank you very much— when a figure shot from the skies, descending like a fiery meteorite aimed directly at Wei Wuxian.
Immediately recognizing the purple robes, and Zidian’s spark, neither of them drew their weapons, too busy gawking at the approaching Jiang Cheng.
“Heard about the invasion.” He said, recalling a glowing Sandu to his hand, before Sandu had finished snapping back to his hand. “My best disciples are just behind— everyone else will be arriving in one or two days but we can definitely hold our ground until then. What is the current situation?”
Wei Wuxian blinked owlishly at him.
“Um,” He said. “So about that.”
It had been quick work to tell the full story. That yes, the Lan army had gotten to Yiling. Yes, they had all the intentions of invading and waging war against the Wei Sect.
But somehow it had all been resolved without bloodshed, as Sect Leader Lan’s true intentions had been to rescue Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, who he thought were in danger.
Jiang Cheng listened to all this with a grim expression and a tight jaw, not interrupting once. After Nie Huaisang had finished talking, the man just dropped down with a deep, relieved sigh.
“I’m too old for this,” He said, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, exhausted from all the adrenaline, and fear and stress.
“Jiang Cheng, you can’t be old!” Wei Wuxian said, taking a seat by his side, voice not betraying the concern in his eyes. “What would that make me?!”
Jiang Cheng leaned against him despite the aggravated expression on his face.
“Ancient.”
“Hey.”
“This shouldn’t have happened.”
Wei Wuxian sighed, but let his martial brother continue to pace up and down his room, as pent up as always. He could tell he was nervous, however, so he figured it wasn’t just about being late to the no-longer-an-invasion.
“No matter the reason, the Lans shouldn’t have been so quick to bring an army to your doorstep. Even worse, without an official announcement beforehand.”
“Well, it’s not like we’re exactly liked—”
“And you! You can’t just rely on your demonic cultivation for everything!”
Wei Wuxian scowled back. “My demonic cultivation won us the war, A-Cheng. It has kept my people safe.”
Jiang Cheng snarled at him, but returned to pacing instead of escalating the argument. Wei Wuxian was getting concerned. Had something happened? Was the Jiang Sect well? Was it Jiang Yanli?
“You’re not alone.” Jiang Cheng spat to the ground, fists clenched tight. “You don’t have to fight alone. You shouldn’t have to. You’re. I.”
“Jiang Cheng… Is—? Do you need my help with something?”
“No!” Jiang Cheng exploded, then covered his face. “I’m better than this, fuck.”
He whirled around in a storm of elegant robes that smacked Wei Wuxian right as he was tentatively reaching for his shoulder.
“Promise me,” He demanded, jaw wound tight, words caught in his throat.
“I will, I promise, I promise,” Wei Wuxian replied, like it was second nature, like it was the only answer he could have given. Like he would give anything, everything to soothe his pain.
(Like he had, once, forever.)
“Promise me,” Jiang Cheng tried again. “That what I’m about to ask, you will say yes.”
“I do, I promise, anything I—”
“Join me as my sworn brother.”
“Wh—?” Wei Wuxian spooked, flinching back but—
“You promised,” Jiang Cheng barked, holding his arm in a vice grip, bruising and desperate. “You promised you would say yes.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to—"
“What, throwing your life away is alright, but being my sworn brother is a step too far? Is that it?”
“That’s not it. I’m… Jiang Cheng think this through, I am little more than an outcast! A demonic cultivator! Think about what blow the Jiang Sect’s reputation will take!”
“You. Promised.” Jiang Cheng said, slow, and fatal as he brought his hand to his waist and pulled not Sandu, but Suibian, strapped just behind it. “Or are you going to break this promise too?”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wide, shaking, he was shaking, he was caught, trapped and—
“Why won’t you carry your sword, Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng whispered, landing a final blow. “Is it the demonic cultivation? Has something happened to your—?”
“Okay,” Wei Wuxian cut him off, hearing his own voice from a distance, quieter than his heart thumping in his ears. Anything. Anything so long as Jiang Cheng won’t know… “Okay. Yes. I agree.”
Jiang Cheng lowered his eyes, as if…
“You will be my sworn brother?”
“Yes.”
“You will show up to the ceremony?”
“Yes.”
“Will you carry Suibian for the ceremony?”
“I—”
“I’ll take it back. After. I’ll… I’ll take care of it. Until you need it. Until you want it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Wen Qing scowled at all the drunk men gathered around the meeting table.
“I will not be treating any of you come morning.”
“’M not drunk,” Jiang Cheng clarified, angrily squinting at the air beside her head, eyes growing cross-eyed as she drew closer.
“Clearly,” Wen Qing said, knowing they’d be too drunk to remember her tucking a strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng’s ear. With nobody as her witness, she pushed a small amount of qi into his body, to soothe the incoming headache. He leaned into her, like a flower turning for the sun.
She pulled away, hands clenched. “You should all get to bed. You’re useless like this. Tomorrow will be a new day.”
Nie Huaisang burst into drunken tears.
Wei Wuxian toppled backwards trying to reach him, which prompted Jiang Cheng to belatedly try to grab him and fall over him. Nie Huaisang seeing his husband suffering, leaned in to help, then fell on them, further suffocating Wei Wuxian.
“…” Wen Qing stared at the mess, before turning around. “Rest in peace, Wei Wuxian. I will make sure to lead the Sect well without you.”
(She’d ask Wen Ning to put them to bed. Later.)
“— finally decided to join us in the world of the living?”
“Hnngh?” Nie Huaisang answered, blinking blearily at the ceiling of the infirmary building. He patted the area beside him on the bed, becoming quickly disillusioned at finding it devoid of his husband.
“If you’re looking for Wei Wuxian, the fierce corpse told me he was taking him to his rooms.”
Nie Huaisang’s pout grew bigger and sadder, even as he rubbed the grit out of his eyes and realized—
He sprang up on the bed, immediately zeroing on the man sitting beside the bed, dressed in soft linen and with dark bruises under his lucid eyes.
“Dage! Are you well? What are you doing up? Did I take your bed? Why did you let me take your bed?!”
Nie Mingjue bore the relentless questioning with crossed arms and an indulgent smile on his lips, letting his little brother fret about him. He reached for his hand, as if afraid Nie Mingjue would disappear, would dare to break his promise.
“I told you, Sang-er, I’m not going to leave you alone anymore.”
Wen Qing bringing in their breakfast distracted Nie Huaisang from his flurry of complaints momentarily. But as they ate rice porridge, he carried on, undisturbed. But the questions stopped being about every minutia of Nie Mingjue’s health and went back to.
“Can you believe the audacity? Jiang Wanyin becoming my husband’s sworn brother before my wedding? Preposterous!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, you two are already married. You already came first.”
“Not that anybody knows!” Nie Huaisang despaired. “If people bothered to listen to the rumors we’ve painstakingly planted—”
“Rumors are unreliable—”
“Xichen-ge wouldn’t have tried to- to rescue me!”
“If you had bothered to send us a fucking letter, Sang-er.” Nie Mingjue scowled at him. “If you’d told us what had truly happened, your plans—”
“I sent erge a letter! I told him I had gotten married and he still—”
“After so many months of absolute silence! You just disappeared as if I didn’t have enough things to worry about—!”
“You didn’t want me there!” Nie Huaisang slammed his bowl down, voice warbling with his pain. “You burned down my room and cast me aside! You—!”
Nie Mingjue stared at him, horrified, silent.
With his hair still in his messy sleeping braid, he did not look like the man that had taken a torch to his little brother’s rooms in a pain-fueled rage.
“Do you know how scared I was?” Nie Huaisang whispered, but the words he spoke were not about back then. “When Xichen-ge brought an army to my home? I thought— I thought I had doomed us all. That they were going to kill everyone, and I couldn’t do anything, I…”
Nie Mingjue exhaled like he had been punched, before he made his way to his weeping brother, crushing him to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” He said. “I’m so sorry, didi.”
Nie Huaisang held on tight.
Even though they had all almost gone through an invasion, the world stopped for no one. Wei Wuxian had calligraphy lessons to teach, and had invited Jiang Cheng to accompany them.
By the time Nie Mingjue and his brother found them, the lessons were over and the other two lingered in the classroom, immersed in their own discussion.
Jiang Cheng nagged at his sworn brother over the quality of his calligraphy sets, proclaiming it was his duty to ensure Wei Wuxian wouldn’t embarrass them by owning subpar equipment. Wei Wuxian wasn’t even pretending to be insulted, just prattling about all of his favorite inks, how many students didn’t have their own sets, and actually, if he was feeling benevolent, stacks of paper to practice on would be a very nice wedding gift.
Jiang Cheng grumbled under his breath, but kept asking for follow-up questions.
Only when they spotted the Nie siblings approaching did they remember to separate and pretend to be different leaders of their own sects.
“Chifeng-zun, are you well enough to be— It is good to see you well.” Jiang Cheng bit his tongue mid-bow, even as he continued to trade elbow hits with Wei Wuxian.
“Are they always like this?” Nie Mingjue asked his brother, who was hanging off his arm and laughing behind his fan.
“Worse.” He replied cheerfully, drawing Jiang Cheng’s scowl.
“You can call me Nie Mingjue,” He finally shrugged off his own brother to return the bow, noticing the spark of surprise on Jiang Wanyin’s face. “We will be family very soon, I’m afraid.”
Nie Huaisang looked absurdly smug.
“Ah, well. If– If Sect Leader Nie is sure…?”
“Does that mean I can call you dage!?” Wei Wuxian butted in, earning himself several hard elbows to the gut, which made him grimace but not relent.
Nie Mingjue sighed, but a smile tugged at his lips. “I doubt that if I say no, it will stop you.”
“Dage!” Nie Huaisang protested, just to be obnoxious. “What will Xichen-ge say!?”
“That truly I am Dage shaped.” Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes, as the other three laughed like the gremlins that they were. Rage did not spark in his chest, his mind remained clear. It felt nice, being in control of his own body again.
“Now that you mention it,” Nie Huaisang turned to look behind them as if someone would magically appear from the shadows. “Where is Xichen-ge? Can’t believe he’s missing such a perfect chance to tease you.”
“I’ll have you know Sect Leader Lan has a sect to run.” Nie Mingjue bonked him over the head. “He had to leave.”
“Without saying goodbye to me!?”
“Oh don’t be so dramatic. He said…” Nie Mingjue glanced briefly at the other two young men before shrugging with one shoulder. “Some urgent sect matters came up that he had to take care of. I’m sure you’ll be able to annoy him too soon enough.”
“How dare you, Xichen-ge loves me!”
“Presumably.”
“Hey, have you heard? There is unrest with the Jin!”
“Oh, I heard something about one of Sect Leader Jin’s sons getting murdered, are you saying it wasn’t a lie?”
“Who died? Was it the Sect Heir?”
“I heard it was one of his many bastards…”
“Why would the sect be in uproar over one of those? Sect Leader Jin has more bastards than money, it can hardly be news if one dies—”
“No! It was a legitimate son! The one who killed Wen Ruohan!”
“Really? That’s a pity.”
“Who could have killed him, though? Someone powerful enough to kill Wen Ruohan himself couldn’t have been offed just like that.”
“Hey, did you hear? Sect Leader Lan has gone into seclusion.”
“Oh, I feel sorry for him, Jin Guangyao was his sworn brother after all.”
“I wonder who killed him? Do you think they’ll strike again?”
“Ugh, I hope not. I’ve had enough of the big sects’ drama.”
“How about minor sect drama? I heard the Yao are at it again, pretending to have played a big role in the war…”
When the Yiling Patriarch descended his mountain of death, a colorful and bustling town greeted his sight.
Even though the threat of war had been so near, the relief of not having to go through it again, and the blatant, tangible protection of their Yiling-ge, had made them burst into full celebration mode.
The street food stalls were all lined up and busy, there were mismatched lanterns placed everywhere, and even the ever-present corpse workers were decked out in colorful ornaments and fresh clothes.
“Yiling-ge!” Everyone called out, smiling, trusting. They toasted to his name, they gave him free food, and free drinks.
They also catcalled and whistled when Nie Huaisang met up with him, looping an arm around his, and grinning so widely, his joy had begun to carve its way into his skin. Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized.
“Thank you for coming, Yiling-ge.” Nie Huaisang teased, only laughing when Wei Wuxian stepped on him, in embarrassed retaliation.
“I should have added a clause in our marriage contract.” Wei Wuxian sniffed offendedly even as his husband dragged him to one of the stalls and offered him a supremely spicy meat skewer in token apology. “Forbidding you from calling me that.”
“Don’t worry, that wouldn’t have stopped me, gege.”
Wei Wuxian would later blame it on the spicy food, but even the vendor knew the reason behind his entire face turning red.
Even though they were all celebrating the lack of war at their doorstep, soon it became clear the Yiling townsfolk had loftier plans in mind.
“Yiling-ge, Yiling-ge, come look at this!” One of the local dressmakers called, showing off several beautiful and expensive red rolls of fabric, her assistants laughing behind their sleeves, teasing.
“Ohh!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, “Where’d you get this? This quality is comparable to the Jiang Sect’s best! Whose wedding are you planning, you sneaky woman? Will I be invited?”
“I’m sure your husband will invite you!” The women giggled like young maidens, as they pulled the couple further into their stall.
“I’m sure he will.” Nie Huaisang said, smiling behind his fan. “Go on, A-Xian, which one do you like best?”
Wei Wuxian’s face glowed as he made a great show of picking between the two fabrics, wrapping himself in wedding red, unknowing of the fatal effect he had on his husband.
“But auntie don’t you dare start working now, it is time to celebrate, come on!” Wei Wuxian gently pulled the dressmaker from her stall, twirling with her in a cacophony of whistles and cheers, his husband recovered enough to laugh and clap with the rest of them, fondness in the corner of his eyes.
This was the man he had married.
They had been looking at the new lantern designs of the festival, when a growing crowd alerted them to an arising commotion.
After barely a glance, Nie Huaisang and his husband rushed towards the source of the disruption, talisman paper fluttering between their fingers.
And it was a good thing that they did, because at the center of everything stood Nie Mingjue with an unmoving corpse over his shoulder arguing with a frantic Yiling farmer.
“…I said I’d handle it, it’s too risky to leave this resentful corpse unattended. As a Cultivator it is my duty—!”
“Yiling-ge!” The farmer interrupted, relief washing over his face the moment he noticed Wei Wuxian.
“What seems to be the problem here?” Wei Wuxian said, eyes darkened to red, fingers fiddling with Chenqing, even as his face remained placid. He put himself between Nie Mingjue and the farmer almost without thinking. “Nie-zongzhu.” He added, nodding his head almost as an afterthought.
“You lost control over one of your corpses.” Nie Mingjue bit back, towering over them despite his lost weight. “I said I would deal with it, but he’s refusing to listen.”
Wei Wuxian’s smile turned angry, but his tone remained level. “Lost control? Why would you suppose I did? Apologies, Chifeng-zun, I wasn’t aware you were an expert regarding my own cultivation path. And do let her go, she doesn’t belong to you.”
Nie Mingjue’s face twisted, shadows lengthening over his skin, but then it was Nie Huaisang standing before him, frowning and pale and firm.
“Nie Mingjue,” He said and it felt like a slap. “Do refer to Wei-zongzhu appropriately. You are an esteemed guest, but I will not allow you to disrespect my husband. Was the corpse behaving erratically?”
Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched, but he did not let anger best him. He could do that now, thanks to them. He exhaled with his entire body, and while keeping the female corpse’s body over his shoulder, he bowed.
“Apologies, Wei-zongzhu. This one was just concerned about one of your corpses dropping motionless in the middle of the street. I was planning on dealing with her before she proved a danger to everyone.”
“Oh— Well, uh, she’s not… May I?” Wei Wuxian seemed a bit lost by the sudden loss of hostility, throwing Nie Huaisang frequent glances, as if wanting to make sure this was real.
With only a hesitant glance to their surroundings, Nie Mingjue lowered the corpse to the ground, where she laid, unmoving.
Wei Wuxian gently tucked her clothes back into order, where they had started to unwind, then began to point to all of the talismans papered all over her skin. “See, none of the failsafe mechanisms triggered, and if you realize, she no longer has any resentful energy, that is why she stopped moving.”
“It can’t just have lost it,” Nie Mingjue crossed his arms, ready to lecture. “Resentment can only accumulate.”
“Energy is energy.” Wei Wuxian said, in a clipped tone. “If you use it up, it fades.”
“There are more paths to dealing with resentful energy, Dage.” Nie Huaisang added, with a gentler bow. “Is it that hard to believe my husband has found one that is useful?”
Nie Mingjue stared at him, at them, long and searching, and with a sigh, he finally backed down.
“So? It ran out of energy. What happens next?”
Wei Wuxian gaped in incredulous silence, before he launched into an in-depth explanation about the agreement he had with Yiling, and that the poor farmer was just trying to keep up his side of the deal and give the lady corpse her final rites.
Nie Mingjue was quiet, his frown easing slowly, but surely. Listening, when he’d only been deaf before.
Nie Huaisang fought back tears, glimpsing the future they could hope to have.
After a well-deserved drink —first with Nie Mingjue, then another just the two of them once the man had called it a night— the couple continued mingling with their people. Wei Wuxian danced with men and women alike, and Nie Huaisang wrote down the names of everyone who wanted to try to become a Cultivator, or at least a scholar.
They were going to need more teachers, at this rate.
He did not find the thought scary.
Nie Huaisang was gently explaining to his confused husband how his charisma had nabbed them fifteen new students in the past hour, when a sharp voice called out to them.
“Here you are! I’ve been trying to find you for hours!” Jiang Cheng pushed his way through the crowds, cranky but not mad. An important distinction to make with Jiang Cheng. “I can’t believe how irresponsible you are, Wei Wuxian!”
“What’d I do now?” Wei Wuxian asked, but was already grinning as his junior appeared in all of his purple glory— a child sitting atop his shoulders and waving excitedly at him. “I see A-Yuan found you.”
“Xian-gege! Hi! Hello! Shiniang, hi!”
“A-Yuan, you can just call me Sang-gege as usual, you know…” Nie Huaisang said defeatedly as his traitorous husband giggled maniacally beside him. “You don’t have to listen to Xian-gege’s nonsense.”
Wei Wuxian choked on his laugh, and Jiang Cheng gave the eyeroll of a lifetime.
“You lost your child is what you did.” Jiang Cheng continued pretending nothing had happened with all his might.
“I did not lose him.” Wei Wuxian argued, as he looked around. “Wen Qing was keeping an eye on him… Where is she?”
“She’s not a nanny.” Jiang Cheng bit back, “She can have fun in the festival if she wants to.”
“Did she foist A-Yuan on you.” Nie Huaisang said, unimpressed. Jiang Cheng scowled at him, but his reddening cheeks gave him away almost immediately. “Oh, A-Cheng…”
“Don’t call me that!”
“And don’t say it like that!” Wei Wuxian added. “My shidi can’t be a romantic fool without my permission!”
“Who’s your shidi!” The Jiang Sect Leader hissed, kicking him in the shins like they were nothing but squabbling children. “You’re my sworn brother now, if anything I’d be your er-di!”
And then.
Both of them, seasoned warriors and strong sect leaders, realized what he had just said at the same time. And they just stared off into space, embarrassed into silence, their mortification tangible.
“I married an idiot.” Nie Huaisang told A-Yuan.
A-Yuan giggled.
Like that the day went on. They drank, they ate, they played with the children, they sat with the elders. Wen Qing was found, and only grinned wide and without abandon when Wei Wuxian informed her of Jiang Cheng’s woes. She went off to find him, promising to take care of him.
Wei Wuxian let her go, and let Huaisang pull him away from them.
Mo Xuanyu ran up to them excitedly, wearing the grey and red robes of his Sect, and his practice sword at his hip. He told them about the food he ate, and about the Cultivator he had to chastise for cutting in line.
He called him laoshi, and he called his husband eldest brother, because that was who they had become.
Nie Huaisang wondered why it felt so strange. He still felt young, and foolish, but now he was more than that.
They did not speak of it, but he was sure Wei Wuxian had similar thoughts, caught in distant silver eyes.
The festivities went on well into the night.
The following morning, when Nie Huaisang woke up, the space beside him was empty.
“A-Xian?” He called with a dry mouth, knowing there would be no answer. He rubbed tired eyes and pulled on proper clothes as he wondered where his husband had gone.
He wasn’t in his Demonic Cave, nor was he at the Wei’s town hall. He wasn’t having breakfast with the Wen siblings, and he didn’t even know if Jiang Cheng had spent the night.
So left with no other option, he stepped into the Burial Mounds.
It had been the right decision, Nie Huaisang thought as he held his outer robe closer to himself, as if that could ward off the fetid smells, and the lingering fingers of resentment that clung to him, like old friends.
A flute’s aimless melody spurred him on, however.
So he waded through restless souls, trying to find the path towards the source of the melancholic music.
“There you are, husband of mine.” He said as he finally spotted him, sitting atop the branch of a gnarly tree, feet dangling in the air. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Wei Wuxian hummed into his flute, playing the Yunmeng song to its last note before he pulled away to answer, with red eyes and bitter lips. “I needed some fresh air.”
Nie Huaisang arched his eyebrows, in lighthearted disbelief. “You may not be well aware, then. I know several places with fresher air than here.”
Wei Wuxian only hummed. “You should go back. I’ll… What are you doing?”
Nie Huaisang did not reply, too busy climbing up the tree, thanking all of his years of teenage shenanigans, for not making a fool of himself.
Wei Wuxian finally laughed as he finished hauling his husband up the last stretch. His hands were cold, he was cold, but that was all the more reason for Nie Huaisang to fold him into his arms, his core rolling lazily as he gave him some of his own energy.
“Will you tell me why you didn’t stay in bed?”
Wei Wuxian pouted against his neck. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”
Nie Huaisang did not say, waking up alone was worse than losing some sleep. “I like your music.”
“Thanks. I like it too.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Oh, I should let you—”
“I’m not leaving.”
“… We’ll go back together then. Later.” Wei Wuxian said slowly, almost reluctantly.
Nie Huaisang squeezed him in thanks, and did not linger on the topic, lest his husband changed his mind again. He hummed. “I didn’t know you still liked to climb trees.”
“Don’t make me sound so old! We climbed trees together in the Cloud Recesses! We climbed all sorts of things, actually.”
“Like the Lan gates.”
“And their walls of rules.”
“Getting to the lessons was also a troublesome climb.”
Wei Wuxian laughed against him. Nie Huaisang held him tighter.
“It feels like so long ago.”
“Yeah.”
“I once…” Wei Wuxian started, hesitated. Like his words would flee like startled birds. Like they needed to be caught, dragged from his chest. “I always thought I would be Jiang Cheng’s right-hand man.”
“Yeah?”
“I was… happy. I really was. I would train the disciples, and I would help my sect.” Wei Wuxian mumbled, fingers clenching nervously against his husband. “All of the fun things, you know? I would take a weight off Jiang Cheng’s shoulders… And best of all I wouldn’t have to worry about tedious sect matters because I would never be the sect leader.”
“You never did like people comparing the two of you.”
“Petty bastards.” Wei Wuxian snarled at nothing, his outrage ever present. “Jiang Cheng always was meant to lead his own Sect. His clan. And he’s great at it. Even after— the Jiang Sect continues to thrive. I could have never…” He sighed.
“You also make a good sect leader, A-Xian.” Nie Huaisang said gently. “You’ve done so much for them.”
“I just worry, you know? I’m… good at creating things, and teaching, and taking the lead when I need to. But… politics? Treaties? Already I do not know if we’ll have enough food for the winter, with this big celebration we just had.”
“Silly A-Xian,” Nie Huaisang said softly. “You are not alone. You have me. We have Wen Qing. You’ve said it yourself. There is nothing us three can’t achieve.”
“Then why won’t either of you take the position of sect leader?”
“Because it suits you. Who else will be our beloved Wei-zongzhu if not you?”
Wei Wuxian pushed him away playfully. “You horrible, horrible man.”
Nie Huaisang snatched his hand and kissed it. “Your horrible, horrible husband, you mean?”
Wei Wuxian stared at him, pushing a stray strand of hair behind Nie Huaisang’s ear. “Yeah, that’s the one.”
Nie Huaisang grinned, the corner of his eyes crinkling.
“To share the water when the river runs plentiful is the natural course of life.” He mumbled, leaning closer, a question in the tilt of his head.
“To share,” Wei Wuxian echoed, shy but eager, breathing his same air. “When the river has run dry…”
“When the future seems uncertain...”
“…It is what makes us human.”
“And,” Nie Huaisang breathed against his smile. “You will always have me, come what may, rain or shine. Young, and old.”
“Come what may,” Wei Wuxian echoed, and he knew it would be true.
Their lips met.
And so their story began.