Wei Wuxian was sure he had never run so fast in his life. He needed to get away—get away before Lan Wangji saw him, spotted him amidst walking corpses and ghosts, eyes glowing red and body overflowing with resentment.
Nothing else mattered.
He made it across Jining's hills, managed to cleanse his meridians in time for his golden core to unseal itself, to jump on Suibian and begin the race south, all before he realized he was crying.
Somewhere outside Buzhai Village his strength abandoned him.
Tumbling from his sword and out of the sky, Wei Wuxian was fortunate enough to have his fall broken by trees—the forest handed him down its branches with all the hospitality of a disgruntled nature spirit, ripping his clothes, scratching his skin and finally delivering him into the care of a random thorny shrub.
He still landed hard enough to have his breath knocked out of him completely.
For a long while Wei Wuxian lay there with no intention of ever getting up again. His head was pounding with vertigo, his body was a web of pain that stretched all the way to the crown of his head and the little joints in his toes and fingers, and his mouth contained at least one exceedingly bitter leaf picked up during his involuntary descent.
A swooshing noise eventually announced Yanling Daoren landing next to his shrub—a dull thud Wen Zhuliu's corpse hitting the ground. It had been the only thing Wei Wuxian had thought to do before he'd run; take Wen Zhuliu's shattered soul, take his corpse and go.
Now he didn't remember why he'd wanted to take the damn body too.
'Those, then, were the good people of the current cultivation world?' Yanling Daoren mocked him. 'The deserving persons who have your loyalty and your trust?'
Spitting out the leaf took more effort than felt reasonable, as did getting onto his hands and knees. A somewhat frantic look around proved that Wen Zhuliu's soul was dangling from a nearby branch. Wei Wuxian tied it to his belt with slow fingers.
'A great deal of trust that makes it necessary for you to flee upon those deserving persons' arrival,' Yanling Daoren continued making fun of him. 'A great deal of fine trust, indeed.'
Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Wei Wuxian began trying to get out of the shrub. His progress was slow going since his legs barely worked and sharp branches frequently snagged his robes.
When he was finally free, he collapsed onto cold moss, catching himself on his elbows.
What an embarrassment.
What being tired of hiding?
What letting Lan Wangji learn the whole ugly secret and getting his heart broken?
Wei Wuxian had often repeated those determinations to himself these last days; that he was ready, that since he didn't regret his decisions, there was no point to dreading their consequences. He was good at taking the hit, had been ever since he could remember. He was strong, he was clever, he was resilient. It wasn't just arrogance talking, like Jiang Cheng loved to claim, not when Wei Wuxian was only alive today because he knew those things to be true about himself.
What did it matter if the Lan sect recoiled from him in horror and regretted ever taking a chance on the stray Jiang Fengmian had discarded?
If Lan Wangji was disgusted and didn't want him anymore?
Wei Wuxian would just carry on with his life.
He would tough it out.
What else was there to do?
A hot tear rolled down his nose and dropped into a patch of moss.
What a cartload of bullshit. What a grand fucking delusion. When it had actually come down to it, all that cheap determination had evaporated into nothing, and Wei Wuxian had run away like a coward. Turned out he was absolutely terrified of losing Lan Wangji.
No—of being left.
Wei Wuxian's arms gave out too.
'The poison is conquering you, shizhi,' Yanling Daoren observed unhelpfully. 'Already, your aura of vitality has started to blacken.'
"Fuck off," Wei Wuxian croaked wetly.
The ghost huffed. Then he indeed vanished.
Left alone with nothing but a corpse for company, Wei Wuxian cried for a long time, unable to help feeling like some small, wretched creature, good for nothing but curling up and dying.
He wished he could curl up in Lan Wangji's lap at least.
If only he hadn't run, he could be doing so right now.
As daybreak woke the forest, Wei Wuxian imagined himself getting up and going back to Jining, throwing himself at Lan Wangji's feet and being forgiven instantly. He imagined hearing I missed you and I regret being harsh in my letters and nothing could ever make me love you any less.
He imagined getting a hug and a kiss; one of those soul-consuming kisses that always made him feel like Lan Wangji wanted to eat him alive, stuff him into his heart and never let him go again.
Yes, that would be good.
Lan Wangji's heart was the best place to be at.
A wave of nausea brought an abrupt end to Wei Wuxian's self-pity. As he retched the non-existent contents of his stomach into the moss, he suddenly knew with certainty that he really was dying.
Would Lan Wangji still mourn his death?
Would he still cry?
Would Wei Wuxian's corpse get a burial in the private tomb of the Lan family, or would they throw it into some nameless ditch to avoid the association?
And then the muddled whirlwind of his delirium settled on Ling Yuxuan—he had left him hidden in Jining's forest, had stuffed him into a random hollow tree with no guarantee that he would be found, when the Lan senior definitely required medical attention.
The realization gave Wei Wuxian the strength to drag himself to his knees. Getting out the bunny seal and letter paper was a great struggle of finicky coordination. The little case that contained his writing tools was completely impossible to open. Wei Wuxian was stumped for a moment. A medium—what else could he use to write? Looking around, his eyes found the only thing nearby; Wen Zhuliu's corpse.
The first few characters Wei Wuxian smeared down using Wen Zhuliu's blood came out completely illegible, but eventually he got his fingers under control and wrote,
Hollow tree, south of camp
Satisfaction filled him after he had successfully sent the message. Lan Zhan will take good care of everything, he thought with absolute certainty and slowly returned his bunny seal into his qiankun pouch.
His next clear thought returned him to Wen Zhuliu's corpse—the Sunshot Alliance would be interested in the man's death. And hadn't Wei Wuxian promised Gao Hongkuan a head? With an absentminded exertion of spiritual energy, he summoned Suibian into his hand and used her as a crutch to arduously drag himself closer to the corpse. Once there, he knocked Wen Chao's sword out of the way—it had still been stuck inside the neck—and began cutting.
Crazed inspiration made him go for the right arm first. Attached as it was to the literal core-melting hand, its value as a keepsake felt very logical to him in that moment. Outfitted with a preservation talisman, the limb got stuffed into his qiankun pouch.
Next, the head. Halfway through cutting it off, Wei Wuxian's eyes fell shut. By the time Wen Zhuliu's head rolled into the moss, he was half asleep.
But he couldn't sleep yet.
Moving sluggishly, he stowed away the head in the same fashion as the arm.
Wen Chao's ugly sword went into his qiankun pouch as well. Maybe Jiang Cheng would want it as a trophy?
Another wave of nausea rolled through Wei Wuxian's stomach, making his insides cramp violently, as if a giant fist had closed around them and squeezed. Losing hold of Suibian, he weakly coughed up a black glob of bloody bile, mostly just spitting it down his chin.
He tried to get to his feet.
He crashed face-first onto Wen Zhuliu's cold torso, where he stayed.
Who was he trying to fool?
He wouldn't be able to present the head of the Core-Melting Hand to anyone, wouldn't be able to gift Jiang Cheng an ugly sword—he couldn't even fucking stand.
Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian thought groggily while the blood-soaked moss beneath Wen Zhuliu's neck stump disappeared as the world grew dark. Lan Zhan, this corpse is really cold. It's not a good pillow at all. You have to come and hold me.
-------
The world was rocking back and forth.
Not that Wei Wuxian could see anything—his eyes were closed and for some reason he couldn't get them to open—but he felt it. He was lying on his back, something was digging into his side and everything, him included, was rocking back and forth.
Sound popped back into existence.
A steady rattling noise was coming from somewhere directly below him.
The wheels of a cart.
...He was in a cart?
He didn't remember getting into a cart.
Maybe someone had picked up his body to bring it into a coffin house in preparation for burial. If that was the case, Wei Wuxian needed to warn the kind soul that he was a recently awakened corpse and not worth the hassle; he was grateful, but they should quickly dump him at the side of the road and not look back. With a little luck a cultivator would discover his existence sooner rather than later and put him down before he caused trouble.
At this point Wei Wuxian's eyelids had unstuck enough that he could finally force them open. A hand was lying directly in front of his face. It was long-fingered and appallingly dirty. Wait—that looked a lot like his own hand! Wei Wuxian managed to make the fingers curl, confirming his theory. His hand was... not blackened and stiff like that of a hopping corpse, but simply a dirty, but living, human hand.
Before Wei Wuxian could ponder this surprising turn of events, he had already passed out again.
He regained half-awareness because someone was picking him up, one hand below his knees and one below his back. Wei Wuxian recognized what was happening immediately—after all, he had been picked up like this countless times since getting married—and just like always the hands were big and warm and didn't struggle one bit supporting his weight.
Exceedingly pleased, Wei Wuxian started to nose closer in an effort to snuggle up to Lan Wangji. But he was kept at a distance, shrugged away repeatedly—not unkindly, but without any affectionate indulgence, only allowed to hang limply with his head dangling uncomfortably backwards.
There was no sandalwood scent either, only road and sweat and musk—or maybe something like horse?
Not Lan Wangji's scent, in any case.
With a sigh of aggrieved disappointment, Wei Wuxian let himself get swept up by darkness again.
The third time he woke it finally stuck.
Coming to, he realized that he was feeling pretty good—which a moment's consideration made him think was strange. But his head was clear, his pain was very manageable and limited to his shoulder, he was lying semi-comfortably on a solid, unmoving surface and there were no ghostly voices screeching bloody murder in his mind.
A nice change of pace, all around.
There were still sounds; laughing children, haggling marketgoers and the clopping of hooves striking the pavement. And, quieter but sounding closer to him, the steady swishing of a brush moving over paper.
Wei Wuxian opened his eyes.
Above him a colorful tarp was fluttering gently in a warm breeze and admitting view of a sliver of bright blue sky. Beside him, there was a young man. He seemed entirely absorbed by a ledger which he was balancing on one knee and busily scribbling on.
Wei Wuxian had never seen him in his life.
He instinctively reached for Suibian, immediately relieved to find both her and Chenqing at his side. As were Yin-daozhang's mask, his qiankun pouch and Wen Zhuliu's soul.
Wei Wuxian did not draw his weapons, instead continued to observe his current company. Though young, the guy was probably older than himself. Out of his teens. His looks were unremarkable; a smattering of freckles, an ordinary topknot and stubble on the chin and upper lip. Broad-shouldered and built—a body that was used to physical labor—but no visible weapons. The garments of a commoner.
Probably not an active threat.
Relaxing slightly, Wei Wuxian took in their surroundings.
They were inside a courtyard. Enclosed by high walls and covered by more fluttering tarps, it contained many carriages and carts, parked somewhat haphazardly and all heavily loaded with stuff; Wei Wuxian could see a lot of crates, wooden barrels, bundles of colorful fabrics, scrolls and books, differently sized pots with fanciful designs and many other miscellaneous baubles.
A row of donkeys and horses were idly munching by one wall, and two boys were tousling in a haystack.
"Oh. You're awake."
Startled, Wei Wuxian turned back to find the freckled young man regarding him with a lopsided smile.
"Wasn't sure you'd make it at all, man."
Before Wei Wuxian could think of a reply an excited scream came from the haystack—and then the two tousling boys shoved their way into his line of sight.
"Gongzi!" one cried, making him wince. "I knew you'd survive! It's really you!" And, snidely turning to his fellow child, "I told you he would survive! Next time you better believe me from the start, didi!"
Didi ignored the taunt to crow, "Gongzi, your wound was soooo nasty! It smelled like crap! You were attacked by a demon, right?! Your friend had been totally taken apart—I swear it was the most brutal shit I've ever seen!"
"A-Shan," the freckled young man reprimanded, pushing both kids back a little. He threw a worried glance at Wei Wuxian, like he expected him to react badly.
But Wei Wuxian's head was whirling too much for any kind of reaction. For now, he mostly just felt he really should not be lying down any longer. As he moved to sit up, his shoulder gave a mighty twinge in protest, prompting a vivid memory of green flames, liquid pain and rancid teeth biting into his flesh.
Fuck, that was right—he had totally gotten himself infected with corpse poisoning, hadn't he?! Suddenly panicking, Wei Wuxian moved a hand to his wound, already seeing himself lost to an inhuman hunger and jumping these three strangers to devour them.
But in place of blood and broken flesh, his fingers just encountered something cold and sticky. It left a milky-white residue on his fingertips. "What...?"
"It's congee!" A-Shan exclaimed. "Jun-gege said our breakfast would get the evil out of your shoulder and it totally did!" He beamed up at the freckled young man. "You're so smart, Jun-gege!"
"Congee?" Wei Wuxian stared at the kid's eager face, then twisted his head around, trying to get a look at the crook of his own shoulder. It was difficult with the angle, but he did catch a whiff of cooked rice.
They had... put congee on his wound?
And it had worked?
The freckled young man—Jun-gege?—was smiling again. "Your bite made me think of trying it—well, because, I mean, it was kind of oozing black and, uh, smoking?" He scratched his neck. "Hope you don't mind. I'm really no doctor or exorcist, but I picked up some stuff from a wandering physician once. And that studied sir said that in a pinch you can use rice for this kind of abnormal stuff."
Wei Wuxian only nodded dumbly.
Secretly, he was very much struggling to reconcile everything about his current circumstances. These people seemed really nice—and had by all appearances saved his life—but memories of the battle in Jining were returning to him quickly now, including its disastrous aftermath.
He was very certain he had passed out on Wen Zhuliu's hacked-up corpse. Not many people would voluntarily get involved with that, no matter how kind they were.
"Say, gongzi, are you a spy or something?" A-Shan asked in a loud whisper. "An assassin? How come you're always doing weird, mysterious things?"
"Huh?"
"A-Shan, don't bother him," Jun-gege scolded. He poured something into a cup. "Drink, man, you'll feel better."
Wei Wuxian took the cup. The liquid inside looked like water.
Why had they rescued him? Why was he—a suspicious stranger—being treated with such hospitality? A look down revealed that he had woken up on two crates just like the ones stacked in many of the carts, pushed together and covered by a blanket to make a provisional cot of sorts.
Clearly set up just for his benefit.
Should he try to check the cup for poison?
They had treated his wound and left him his weapons ...
Oblivious to Wei Wuxian's inner struggle, Jun-gege returned to his ledger. "Run along, you two, before the boss gets wise," he said, already scribbling again.
The boys sighed in disappointment but started trotting away. "We're even now!" the child who was not A-Shan called out to Wei Wuxian. "You helped us, we helped you! I hope you feel better soon, gongzi!"
With that the two kids disappeared.
"Doesn't seem like you remember them," Jun-gege remarked. He raised an eyebrow as Wei Wuxian tried to inconspicuously sniff his cup. "It's just water, man. Here, I'm drinking it myself." And he indeed poured himself a cup from the same pitcher and downed it immediately.
Reassured and slightly embarrassed, Wei Wuxian started drinking.
Jun-gege approached a large cart stacked with crates and jumped onto its loading area. "Apparently you're to thank for the stuff they used to bribe the boss into hiring them?"
"...I can't say I know what you're talking about," Wei Wuxian croaked only to immediately break out into coughs. Man, his throat was dry.
Jun-gege crossed out something on his ledger, then tapped his brush against his chin. "Uh, let me think... it was last year. Our caravan had stopped in Huainan City for a supply run, when those brats showed up to demand work, nothing to their name but a donkey and a collection of random trinkets. There was very fancy horse tack, I remember, the boss was practically salivating."
"Huainan City?" The last time Wei Wuxian had been in that region, he and Lan Wangji had been travelling towards Wen Chao's indoctrination camp. Wait... hadn't they roped two beggar boys into playing servant for him during that part of the trip? And hadn't he gifted them a donkey for their trouble? "Huh. I guess I might have actually done something like that?"
"There we go. Ah, drink more, man, your voice sounds like shit."
Wei Wuxian obediently finished another cup, watching as Jun-gege gradually unloaded the entire cart, not paying him much attention at all and revealing rather impressive biceps and back muscles each time he heaved a crate onto his shoulders.
Frequently, his back was turned completely, like he couldn't care less what Wei Wuxian was doing.
Wei Wuxian definitively concluded that this was a simple saving situation. Gratitude unfurled warmly in his belly. Maybe the aggrieved dead had skewed his view on the good that existed in the world.
"May I ask the name of the person who saved my life?"
The freckled young man set down the last crate, seeming slightly bashful. "Uh, my name's Ma Jun. Travelling merchant. Well, travelling merchant's hireling. The caravan belongs to the boss."
"Ma Jun. Tell me, please, is this by any chance Buzhai Village?"
"Hmn, sure is."
Wei Wuxian's shoulders sagged with relief. "How did you find me? Wasn't I still quite far away from the village?"
"I didn't find you at all. A-Shan and A-Tong did. Found you, recognized you as their benefactor and begged me to get you. Ah, you should know, our boss can't find out you're here. He's not the kind of guy to let strangers near the wares. But we're currently stranded waiting for a client to confirm a deal, so he's off getting a drink with most of the crew."
Ma Jun began unfastening the lids of the crates.
"He sent the brats out to look in the area for hints on what's delayed our customer and they took that to mean they could play around in the woods. That's how they found you and the... the other guy... the one you were, uh... with, uhm. Sorry 'bout him, I suppose. Whatever attacked you two must've been... well, I'm sorry, in any case."
Wei Wuxian cocked his head. "The other…?" Oh. The only other guy he could mean, he supposed, was Wen Zhuliu. Or, rather, Wen Zhuliu's corpse. Wei Wuxian cleared his throat, not quite sure what his face was doing. "Ah, uh, don't... don't worry about it."
Though Ma Jun clearly found the answer strange—no wonder, if he thought Wei Wuxian and this other guy had been tragically attacked by the same monster—he resumed his work without further comment.
The more crates he opened, the clearer it became that the goods inside shared a very specific theme.
"Arrows?" Wei Wuxian wondered, craning his neck to get a better look. Tied into neat bundles, they all looked to be of a very high quality. "What kind of client are you waiting for, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Some important cultivator. One of those warmongering ones."
"From Qishan?"
"Yeah... Qishan Wen's the sect, I think? This goddamn territory dispute. Feels like we're getting our hands dirty too, delivering this crap, but boss says there's nothing more lucrative than war stuff right now, that we need to keep our finger on the pulse of time." Ma Jun sighed. "Suppose he's not wrong—at least catering to the cultivators brings some money. So many trade routes are controlled by them these days."
"I see." Just as Wei Wuxian had suspected. Wen Chao must have ordered these arrows as part of his preparations for the siege on the Unclean Realm. Since his main encampment had been wiped out last night, Ma Jun's caravan was waiting in vain to have their deal confirmed.
Trying not to look guilty, Wei Wuxian got to his feet. "Well, I shouldn't bother you any further. I'll get out of your hair... unless I can pay you back first? Not that I have money on me right now, but..."
Ma Jun just waved a dismissive hand, already refocused on his ledger.
In lieu of a proper thank-you Wei Wuxian made sure to at least bow deeply.
As he left the courtyard and stepped out onto a quaint little market street, he hesitated for a moment, then slipped Yin-daozhang's mask onto his face.
-------
Walking around Buzhai Village in search of the local inn, Wei Wuxian was deep in thought.
The despondency Wen Zhuliu's suicide had caused in the moment of it happening still rose in him when he considered what it meant for the future, but now that he was no longer chock-full of resentment, sleep-deprived and losing his mind in poison delirium, he could acknowledge some upsides to what had occurred.
He had most likely prevented a siege on the Unclean Realm and slain a large chunk of Wen Chao's forces.
Wen Zhuliu was dead.
That alone was something, Wei Wuxian supposed.
No more coreless soldiers.
His wandering brought him to the edge of a little stream. Some washerwomen startled at his approach, quickly averting their eyes and muttering to each other. Spotting his own dirty, unkempt reflection in the water, Wei Wuxian decided he should clean up a little before meeting Jin Zixuan and Madam Jin.
Walking upstream, he found a part of the embankment that was sufficiently overgrown to get naked in. The day was rather warm which should have made the experience pleasant enough, but Wei Wuxian still shivered as he trod carefully into the stream, gooseflesh rising up his calves.
At least the bite wound seemed fine beneath the congee. Reflected in the water it looked tender, but not black with death. In meditation Wei Wuxian could moreover sense that whatever infection still lingered was in the process of being expunged by his golden core. This left little energy for the rest of his body, accounting for his stubbornly lingering chill. Hosting resentment for so long had taken a toll in that sense.
As Wei Wuxian washed himself, he recalled another instance when he had gotten naked in Qishan's wilderness like this. That time, Lan Wangji had been with him. They'd just left various sect heirs in the temple that had sheltered them after escaping Mount Muxi and, coming upon a river, had decided to bathe together. They'd played around on the shore, made love in the water and almost ended up being discovered by a random passerby.
Wei Wuxian vividly remembered lying on Lan Wangji's naked body, hiding between swaying reeds and laughing with incandescent happiness.
He wondered what Lan Wangji was doing now.
After leaving Ma Jun's courtyard, Wei Wuxian had discovered two messages from his husband.
The first a simple but demanding,
Where are you?
But the second—oh, the second had more than made up for the first.
Wei Ying, please write me so I know you are well.
That sweet please.
Lan Wangji didn't often lower himself to beg.
Hanguang-jun never did.
Or so Wei Wuxian had thought.
That Lan Wangji was willing to plead just to be assured of his well-being was a priceless gift. He had seen the carnage in Jining, must have drawn some kind of conclusion—especially if Wen Chao had woken up to tell his side of the story by now, which he surely must have—yet still he cared this much.
Lan Zhan still loves me, Wei Wuxian's heart had sung, he loves me, just as he loved me when he chose to marry me. He won't abandon me no matter what.
That overflowing hope and giddy confidence hadn't lasted long, quickly giving way to uncertainty again. But it had afforded Wei Wuxian the courage to remember the tied locks of hair in Lan Wangji's commander's tent in Lanling. To remember every moment of professed love; every quiet, fervent word and action.
In total those should have been too many instances for Wei Wuxian to reasonably keep memorized—should have been, for he remembered them all. At this point his heart might as well contain a secret filing cabinet solely dedicated to hoarding proof of the legitimacy of Lan Wangji's affection.
In the end, he figured he really only had two choices; give up, or cling onto that affection, believe that, even drenched in corpse grime and resentment, Lan Wangji would see something to love.
As fucking impossible as that was to imagine.
Wei Wuxian had sent back an earnest reply, promising that he was safe.
There had been no new messages since, which he didn't know how to interpret.
He was sure Lan Wangji had questions, but maybe he thought it better to postpone them. After all, Hanguang-jun and his disciples had to be busy hunting down the undead Wei Wuxian had brought to Jining. With the daylight grown stronger and without Chenqing's guidance, most of them would be completely at the cultivators' mercy.
Wei Wuxian scrubbed harder at his already clean hands.
That his hoard of undead was meeting such an undignified end after everything they had done for him could not but rest heavily on his heart. He had hoped to see at least some of them pass on into the afterlife.
It was another thing he had failed at.
If only he had been allowed more time with them, maybe he could have—
'I see you have not perished,' a deep voice rudely cut through Wei Wuxian's self-flagellation. Shrieking, he whirled around—and quickly covered his crotch. Standing on the embankment, paler than usual in the sunlight, Yanling Daoren looked down at him with an unimpressed frown. 'What is this hysteria? Have you gone mad?'
"Wha—I'm literally naked! Could you maybe avert your eyes?"
'If you are self-conscious about your physique, you should train more, shizhi,' the ghost said, though luckily, he still turned around.
"Self-conscious. I'm not self-conscious," Wei Wuxian grumbled, quickly wading out of the water and throwing on a clean set of Yin-daozhang's robes. "It's common decency to not peep on bathing people unless you wanna be branded a pervert! I'm a married man! Only my husband can see me naked."
'I fail to see the connection. Nudity as a perfectly natural part of human existence does not inherently carry the sexual connotations your arguments rely on.'
Wei Wuxian sighed but didn't bother to protest. His martial uncle's disconnection from society and societal norms was not something he was interested in rectifying. Now, hundreds of years after the guy's death, it was definitely too late to start teaching him.
"Is there something you wanted, shibo?"
Yanling Daoren inclined his head. 'I have come to take my leave of you. I shall now head for Yanling.'
"Oh, that's... nice? Didn't expect you to come just to say goodbye."
'I shall head for Yanling. But you should not return there.'
That made Wei Wuxian frown in surprise. "What? Why not?"
The ghost's red eyes shimmered. 'I have seen your mind, shizhi, as we were connected through Empathy. Seen your kin in Yanling's hills. I will suffice to protect them. Your return is unnecessary.'
Wei Wuxian turned that over in his mind. He hadn't made any definitive plans beyond reuniting with the peacock yet. He knew he should return to the front. Or find his courage and search for Lan Wangji in Jining...
Or back to his uncle's farm after all?
But what for? Yanling Daoren had a point; with him haunting the area, and Ling Yuxuan now rescued, Wei Wuxian was superfluous in Yanling. And, given that Wen Chao's main war camp had been wiped out overnight, surveillance within Qishan would very likely ratchet up in the coming days. If there was a right time to get out of enemy territory, it was now.
"But... I didn't say goodbye to my family," Wei Wuxian lamented.
'Get over it.'
Insensitive asshole.
"Can I trust you with their safety?"
Yanling Daoren nodded. 'They belong to Yanling. And, through the bonds of marriage, they belong to my very self, as kin to my shimei's chosen beloved. To honor shifu I shall guard them with all of my baneful existence.'
Wei Wuxian supposed he couldn't hope for a better promise. "In that case." He linked his hands to form a salute. "Take care, shibo. And thank you for your help in Jining."
The ghost's eyes flashed. 'Once you have another battle to fight, call upon me with your flute and I shall come to spill more filthy sect blood.'
"...There will be no repeat of this kind of battle."
'Lying to oneself is distorting the truth of one's dao and inviting ruin. Farewell, shizhi.'
And in a whirlwind of black energy Yanling Daoren was gone again, leaving his last advice hanging in the warm spring air.
Putting on Yin-daozhang's mask but forgoing the voice changing talisman, Wei Wuxian started the trek back to the village.
Let lose by the uncertainty of the future, his thoughts darted from topic to topic, sometimes lingering on Lan Wangji in Jining, sometimes on Commander Gao, sometimes on his uncle's family. Eventually they got stuck remembering Wei Hongyi's teary eyes as he'd asked when Wei Wuxian would return and his grandmother's fragile health and vacant smile.
How could Wei Wuxian just vanish without explanation? Abandon his father's last living relatives? If only there were some way to send them a message and explain that he had not forsaken them, some way to place a letter directly in their path...
Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks. He slapped a palm against his forehead.
What was he whining about?! Some way to place a letter directly in their path? Of course there was one—one he had invented himself! Or had he completely forgotten about the Crimson Seal's original predecessor, the paper crane talisman he had made for Nie Huaisang?!
Sitting himself down in the grass Wei Wuxian quickly composed a letter to his family.
Hello everyone!
I used a talisman to get this letter to you since it looks like I won't be able to return for some time.
The last few days were very eventful. The peacock and I managed to save Jin-furen and in the process ran into an old sect sibling of my mother who the Jin had been keeping imprisoned as well.
Yanling Daoren is not quite alive anymore but very powerful, which is why I leave Yanling in his care for the foreseeable future. If you ever see a ghost dressed in white with an expression like he's bitten into a lemon, that's him. He is righteous and devoted to the common people but not very polite, so don't be surprised by his blunt manners.
I'm sorry for not saying goodbye properly. Hopefully this dreadful war will be over soon so that I can visit you again. With Lan Zhan in tow as well, maybe.
Most importantly I'm looking forward to seeing tangdi shear a sheep all on his own!
Please light incense for my parents and hold granny's hand for me. And tell Lao-Wang I'm counting on him to protect the farm.
Thank you for everything.
Wei Ying
-------
In the end Wei Wuxian found Buzhai Village's inn because a certain someone made a ruckus the moment she spotted him, whinnying like a dying rooster and probably waking any napping children in a hundred li radius.
Wei Wuxian was cheered up immediately. How could he not be, hearing that lovely singing voice?
Da-Shanyang was being kept in a hovel beside a very small building called Lucky Toad Inn. The hovel's construction was shabby enough that it seemed in danger of being dismantled by the mare's enthusiastic attempts at climbing its little entrance gate to reach Wei Wuxian faster.
Laughing happily, Wei Wuxian ran up to greet his clingy horse. "What's this, Da-Shanyang? Did you miss this humble Wei so terribly you have to destroy buildings?" He jumped into the hovel to hand out scritches. And get his clothes gnawed on. "Aiya, why are you shedding so much, girl? Did that peacock not brush you while I was gone? Tsk, tsk, typical."
A look into the feeding and watering troughs at least proved that Da-Shanyang hadn't been going hungry or thirsty.
Wei Wuxian indulged them both a little while, combing his fingers over the horse's side and butt and making swathes of red fur rain into the dirty straw. Da-Shanyang grumbled and stretched out her long neck, clearly enjoying the treatment.
"Rest of your winter-coat, is it? Don't worry, young mistress, this lowly servant will soon free you from these subpar accommodations, then you shall roll around in the best grass and dirt and rub your itchy coat over all the fences the world has to offer."
Da-Shanyang snorted, definitely in avid agreement.
Soon the piles of shed-out horse hair completely covered Wei Wuxian's boots, and he had to stop to pat off his hands and the front of his body. The fur's red color was rather noticeable on the black fabric of his robes. Well, whatever, it wasn't like he needed to be perfectly presentable.
"Just let me grab the peacock and we'll be on our way, young mistress, this servant promises!" Wei Wuxian called over his shoulder as he climbed back out of the hovel, leaving Da-Shanyang to her attempts at building deconstruction.
Grabbing the peacock was easier said than done.
Wei Wuxian doubted Buzhai Village's innkeeper would cooperate if he just strolled into the establishment, asked if a young man his age and a woman had taken a room four days ago and demanded to be let up to their room, not without money changing hands. Which was impossible since Wei Wuxian had given Jin Zixuan his entire money pouch.
And so, after successfully finding his way into a narrow alley behind the inn, Wei Wuxian assessed its rear wall for breaking-in potential. There were only two windows: one opened, one closed. Flying up, he saw that the chamber beyond the first was empty, the beds inside neatly made. Wei Wuxian was satisfied to conclude that the peacock and his mother had to be in the other room.
Its closed window didn't pose much of an impediment; hovering right next it, Wei Wuxian easily kicked down the window shutters and jumped through, tucking and rolling and catching Suibian out of the air. No sooner had he jumped to his feet than something wrapped around his throat.
"A-niang!" Jin Zixuan's voice cried out, moments before Wei Wuxian spotted his friend sitting on one of the beds, eyes wide in alarm.
"Quiet, Zixuan," a woman hissed directly behind Wei Wuxian's ear.
Wei Wuxian kept very still. "Jin-furen. Is there a reason why your hand is poised to crush my windpipe?"
"You be quiet, too, brat! I don't care what fairy tales you told my son, but I won't fall for them!"
"A-niang, everything I said is true!" Jin Zixuan whined, sounding like this was a well-tread argument. "Wei Wuxian helped me save you! He won't betray us!"
His mother scoffed. "Yes, a very likely story. Wei Wuxian, thrown out like trash by the Jiang, nearly murdered by my sworn sister, has now risked everything to save a woman he has every reason to resent for that connection alone. Out of the goodness of his heart."
"...Is wishing to assist a friend not motivation enough?" Wei Wuxian asked cautiously. "Regardless of my views on Jin-furen, Jin-furen's sworn sister or that sworn sister's sect, is it not enough that her son requested my help?"
"Then where have you been all this time? First you magically return from the dead and now you jump around in a disguise and have an undead army of your own? My son has been mad, Wei Wuxian, so you will forgive me if I doubt his claim that you controlled more than a hundred ghosts and corpses with a little flute music."
„A-niang, I told you, it was all that mushroom! I wasn't really mad!" Jin Zixuan shrieked indignantly. "And he's really able to control the dead! His eyes were glowing a freaky red and he killed all the guards, just like that!"
"What have you really been up to while you left us in this backwater inn?" Madam Jin hissed in Wei Wuxian's ear, completely ignoring her son. "And don't try the ludicrous story that you confronted an entire Wen encampment on your own with me. I don't have patience for Wei Ying's games and tricks. What are you after? Information? Hostages? I won't be made a pawn in anyone's revenge, no matter what A-Yuan has done to you."
Only now did Wei Wuxian notice the tremor in her voice.
Madam Jin was scared.
Scared of his to her unknown intentions, of the revenge he might be planning on her sworn sister, of the part he might want her to play in it.
Wei Wuxian couldn't even fault her suspicion.
Madam Jin didn't know him, not really. On the contrary; the hateful comments Madam Yu must have dropped over the years, supported by Madam Jin's own negative impression of the street urchin who had antagonized her son during his few visits to Lotus Pier, must have stood in confusing opposition to Jin Zixuan's later accounts of an unlikely friendship.
Madam Jin also had to know that just because Jin Guangshan had betrayed her didn't mean she automatically gained his enemies as allies. In fact, Wei Wuxian himself remembered well Nie Mingjue's booming voice declaring he would never ally himself with dirty Jin blood, and the kind of remarks one could hear around the camps of the Sunshot Alliance these days.
The term Jin dog was used almost as often as Wen dog.
Wei Wuxian was suddenly very sure the peacock hadn't told his mother about Yanling Daoren's curse—he had a feeling he wouldn't be breathing anymore if she knew about that particular tidbit.
"I do not wish to take revenge on Jin-furen's sworn sister," he said earnestly. "In fact, if I were to never see her again or have another thought about her in my life, I would consider myself blessed."
"Impudent!"
"Would it help if I showed proof that I really spent the last few days doing what I told Jin-furen's son I would be doing?"
"Proof? How could you possibly prove such a thing?"
Telegraphing his intentions clearly, Wei Wuxian moved to touch the drawstrings of his qiankun pouch. Madam Jin's fingers trembled around his throat—she was clearly unsure whether to allow him to draw a potential weapon, but with Suibian already in his hand curiosity seemed to win out.
Wei Wuxian rummaged around in his pouch until he got hold of a fistful of hair.
Without hesitation, he pulled out Wen Zhuliu's head.
For a moment the room was pin-drop silent.
Then Jin Zixuan cried out in horror and almost fell off the bed.
Madam Jin sucked in a startled breath of her own. Her hand moved away from Wei Wuxian's throat, allowing him to quickly step out of her reach.
Seeing how pale the peacock had gotten, Wei Wuxian suddenly felt sorry—he had completely forgotten that the last time his friend had seen Wen Zhuliu, he had gotten his golden core melted in a rather traumatic way.
He quickly shoved the head back into his qiankun pouch.
"Wen Zhuliu. You killed the Core-Melting Hand?" Madam Jin whispered, staring at him with something like horrified wonder.
It was Wei Wuxian's first opportunity to take her in in return; the disgraced madam of the Jin sect had done a remarkable job of cleaning up since escaping her prison, having somehow procured clean robes and salvaged and done up her hair.
"Technically, he killed himself," Wei Wuxian admitted. "If under duress. But, anyway, uh... more important is that once this news spreads, the Wen sect will likely drastically amp up its security. We should get over the border before that happens."
Madam Jin blinked wildly. "You really... you're really helping us without an ulterior motive? Why?"
Wei Wuxian shrugged. Wasn't it obvious? "I just don't want to be the kind of person who would let a friend fend for himself during difficult times. Or the kind to let him lose the only worthy parent he has."
Madam Jin snorted. Then immediately looked shocked by her own reaction.
"Wh-where should we go?" the peacock piped up, determinedly not looking anywhere near Wei Wuxian's qiankun pouch.
"Ah, well... I kind of thought you'd have ideas of your own?"
Madam Jin shook herself. "Over the border... but then what? Maybe A-Yuan would still offer us refuge, but by the sounds of it she has little influence left. What can she do against her mother?"
"You don't think Meishan Yu would welcome you?" Wei Wuxian asked. It was his best idea; have Madam Jin and Jin Zixuan hide in Meishan with the former's natal sect. It would be the first place anyone would search, but Meishan Yu was also a formidable sect that couldn't just be attacked on a whim.
Madam Jin scoffed. "Yu-zongzhu would have my hide if I returned only to bring trouble."
Jin Zixuan, too, shuddered, as though the mere thought of his mother's former sect leader gave him the jitters.
Wei Wuxian hummed thoughtfully. Based on his few encounters with the sect leader of the Yu sect he knew that she was indeed quite intimidating. In many ways she was like her third daughter; scornful of anything resembling sentimentality and weakness. But he had still hoped she would offer a former disciple protection.
"Do you know anyone else who would be willing to shelter you, then? Surely Jin-furen must have some connections of her own."
"My connections have either been slaughtered or are busy fighting my husband," Madam Jin said, spitting out the word husband like it was a curse. Maybe it was, to her.
Jin Zixuan shifted nervously. "Can't we just... I don't know, choose a direction and go?"
"Zixuan, don't be naive. Both our faces are widely known. No. No, we must hide. But where?" Madam Jin started to pace. "Qishan and Lanling aren't worth considering, but who among the Sunshot Alliance would lift a finger for us?"
Wei Wuxian put a hand below his chin and thought the matter over himself.
Before the war, any sect would have at least pretended to be honored by such esteemed guests as Madam Jin and Jin Zixuan. Even now, there were likely more people in the cultivation world who felt pity for them than those who held resentment. While Jin Guangshan was almost uniformly hated among Sunshot leaders, his wife and son had, officially, died early enough to escape the same fate.
In people's minds the picture was nice and clear; the respectable Jins had died before the war, leaving behind a thoroughly blackened cesspit of traitors everyone was free to wish the worst kind of fate upon.
How would the public react when they found out that those respectable Jins weren't dead after all? Would they be able to handle having their worldview muddled?
Wei Wuxian shook his head.
Qinghe Nie was definitely not an option. Nie Mingjue would probably not actively act against Jin Zixuan and Madam Jin, but he also wouldn't care about their safety. Whereas the smaller sects likely wouldn't dare to make a politically nebulous decision if they thought Chifeng-zun might be against it.
That left Gusu Lan. But Lan Xichen would be equally as hesitant to displease his old childhood friend.
What they needed was someone from the Lan sect who would not only want to shelter Madam Jin and the peacock, but who was also capable of convincing Lan Xichen that it was the right thing to do...
Wei Wuxian snapped his finger and grinned. "I've got it! Say, peacock—how would you like catching up with an old friend?"
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