Thread by @aubrey_li

Ok I'm on break, finally catching up on months of sleep debt, so it is time for: fic crimes.

So: Orpheus and Eurydice AU, in which LWJ is Eurydice, WWX is an unhinged Orpheus, and Hua Cheng cameos as Hades. LET'S GO.

LWJ dies. It doesn't matter how (a curse, a simple curse), or when (a revoltingly sunny day), or who did it (dead, long dead). All that matters is this: LWJ, unnaturally cold and still in WWX's arms. Dead, his soul trapped in hell bc WWX was too stupid, too slow, too weak.

His first life belonged to the Jiangs. WWX had repaid them with bloody destruction and the sacrifice of the best of what he had to give. His second life belongs to LWJ, and he'd vowed that he would never repeat his mistakes.

And yet. LWJ is dead, and WWX still draws breath.

He doesn't take LWJ's body back to Gusu for burial. He wraps LWJ in talismans to protect him from decay, and summons Wen Ning. Their bond holds true. Wen Ning comes.

They find nothing in the Cloud Recesses library, even in the forbidden section. So they go to Qishan instead.

The Wen library is older than the Lans', with less consideration to the... orthodoxy of its texts. During the war, Nightless City was looted to a skeletal husk. But the looters didn't get everything, Wen Ning says. The deepest treasures remain hidden, and open only for Wen blood.

And a dead Wen is still a Wen.

Here, they find the curse, and they find options. A trapped soul cannot enter the reincarnation cycle. Cannot be summoned using Inquiry, or connected using Empathy. But a trapped soul can be retrieved. If the retriever is willing to make the trip.

In the Burial Mounds, the barrier between life and death is gossamer-thin. WWX places LWJ's body inside a protection array, with Wen Ning as guard, and follows the paths of the dead.

At the gates of the underworld, he is refused entry. He expected that, and takes out Chenqing.

(Imagine being the poor guard on duty that day, just minding his own business. Then up rolls this murder twink who goes full Inanna/Ishtar at the Gates of the Underworld on him) en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inanna#:~…

Guard: look, I'm just doing my job
WWX: If you do not open the gate for me to come in,
I shall smash the door and shatter the bolt,
I shall smash the doorpost and overturn the doors,
I shall raise up the dead and they shall eat the living:
And the dead shall outnumber the living!

Guard: ......... ok go in, jeez.

WWX enters the underworld and immediately realizes that he might have miscalculated. In the living world, resentful energy was something feared, and his use of it had horrified and appalled everyone around him. But here, resentful energy is everywhere, in the air, under his feet.

In the underworld, the resentful energy obeys other masters.

It doesn't matter. He's come too far to turn back now. He keeps going, through the levels of hell (he can't help listening for LWJ's voice among the screams, and is sick with relief when he doesn't hear it).

(Lan Zhan is good, so good; even in hell, his soul would shine like a noon-day sun, too bright for anyone to touch)

In the heart of the underworld, WWX meets its ruler, the Ghost King. He slouches on his throne, looking distinctly unimpressed. "Why are you here, mortal?"

"I am here to retrieve the soul of my beloved," WWX says.

The gathered dead jeer at him. The Ghost King does not. "Everyone here is someone's beloved," he says dismissively. "Why should yours get to cheat death?"

There's a lot WWX can say. That LWJ is the best that humanity has to offer, and deserves more than an ignoble death. That WWX loves him, the way parched earth loves rain, the way green loves love sunlight. That after all they'd suffered, they deserve more time.

He says none of those things. Instead, he straightens his spine, lifts his head, and says, "Because *I* am here to retrieve him."

Now the Ghost King laughs. "You? You have no power here. No allies. No great merits to your name." He leans forward, his one-eyed gaze piercing.

"I know who you are, Wei Wuxian. I know what you have done."

Suddenly, there is weight on WWX's neck. His power sluices away like rainwater, leaving him naked and unarmed. A low growl echoes in the space behind him, the sort that comes with sharp claws and devouring teeth.

Terror comes alive in WWX's heart, a thrashing thing that slams against his ribs.

"Consider it mercy," the Ghost King says, with a voice that WWX can feel in his bones, "that now is not your time of dying. Leave."

The pressure fades. The terror behind him recedes.

WWX is shaking all over. It takes effort to raise his arms before him, to stop the chattering of his teeth. "Wei Ying. Wei Ying gives thanks for this mercy. And regrets that he cannot accept."

The room goes silent. "I could kill you," the Ghost King says, almost conversational.

WWX smiles crookedly. "Then Wei Ying gives thanks that he is allowed to stay, to continue searching for his beloved."

The Ghost King smiles too, with teeth. "I could kill him. Shatter his soul into a thousand pieces."

New fear ices WWX's heart. But he knows this game now. Knows how to play it, if not how to win.

"Then Wei Ying gives thanks that the Ghost King would tell him how many pieces there are, so that he would not miss one."

The Ghost King stares at him. And then starts to laugh.

"All right," the Ghost King says. "Let's have a gamble, shall we?"

The deal is this: WWX has one chance to retrieve LWJ's soul. But a curse-trapped soul isn't easy to find, and to get to it, he'll need to pass through three trials: one of pain, one of patience, one of faith. Lose, well.

The Ghost King waves a hand, and a scale appears.

"Make your bet," he says, nodding at the scale.

"What do I bet?"

The Ghost King shrugs. "Something that matters to you -- not your life," he adds, when WWX opens his mouth. "I said something that MATTERS to you. You'll know when it's enough."

WWX considers this. He has no possessions to offer, no knowledge that would interest someone like the Ghost King.

But the Ghost King said: something that matters to HIM. Something whose loss would hurt.

In the underworld, the spirit takes on physical form. As does memory.

It's how the Ghost King was able to carve terror from WWX's mind.

He does the same now, cracks himself open and scoops out the woodsy scent of LWJ's skin, the cool silk of his hair, the taste of his kiss. He places it all on the scale.

It moves, but doesn't balance. Not enough

He takes out more -- LWJ's small, radiant smile, the music of his laughter, the warmth of his gaze, the utter safety of his hands.

The perfect way they fit together, two halves of a whole, finding home in each other's hearts.

Still not enough.

He digs deeper still, and finds, at the core of him, something shining, flawless, untainted by grief and loss. A fall, and arms coming up to catch him, erasing all memory of pain from every other fall he'd ever had before this. The soul-deep certainty that he'd never fall again.

The scales balance.

When he looks up, the Ghost King is gazing back at him, expression thoughtful.

Then he reaches into a pocket and tosses WWX a compass. "Follow it."

WWX drops to his knees in the easiest bow he's ever made. "Eternal gratitude, your majesty."

The Ghost King snorts, then looks away in obvious dismissal. WWX bows once more, then gets up and backs away, head lowered, hands still clasped before him.

He turns when he's he's halfway across the room. His clothes return to him as he continues to walk, following the compass.

At the threshold of the throne room, he feels a gentle brush against his ear.

"For what it's worth," comes the Ghost King's voice, "good luck."

(HC totally goes home to XL and is like "Dianxia, you would not BELIEVE what happened today" and tells XL about the whole thing with WWX, and XL goes all starry-eyed and like "You see, San Lang, there are people in the world who are good and true" and HC grumps, "Yeah I GUESS")

Breaking for dinner! TBC later this evening

He expects the trial of pain to come first, and binds the compass to his hand so he won't drop it. There are 18 levels of hell, and an endless array of creative torments. But no one stops him as he walks, no one grabs him, tries to lash him to spikes or throw him into hot oil.

The pain, when it hits, is not what he expects at all.

There is burning, but he's not being burned. The flames roar around him, almost drowning out the screams. Grief rushes into him with floodwater force, choking him. He staggers, forces himself to keep walking.

Rage follows, an inferno even stronger than the fire around him. Hatred, distilled poison in his veins. Then despair, acidic and agonizing, carving him to pieces bit by bit. And then loss, a yawning pit, engulfing him in darkness so deep it swallows even the memory of light.

He knows this pain. He's lived it, and it killed him once. It won't, this time.

He keeps walking. He knows what's coming next.

This time, he's ready for the pain. Knife-sharp at first, low across his abdomen. Then unimaginable pain, loss, violation so great he feels like he's being unmade. The ground rushes up at him as he falls, keening, too hurt to even cry.

But even this, EVEN THIS, is familiar.

He survived it once. He can do it again. Slowly, slowly, he gets back up to his feet.

With a sound like a sigh, the world shifts around him. The pain stops. One test passed, then.

Two to go.

(TBC tomorrow I'M SO SORRY, I PROMISE THIS ENDS HAPPILY)

It takes him a while to realize that the second test has begun.

He notices the quiet first, screams fading to whispers. Then the world around him begins to fade as well, like a painting left out in the sun. Soon, he is walking in a vast expanse of empty desert.

It is not too hot, or too cold. There is no pain, no hunger, no thirst. There is simply nothing at all. Even his footsteps are silent, muffled by the sand under his feet. The only thing here is time. Day becomes night becomes day again, over and over, without fail, without change

But the compass keeps pointing forward, so he keeps walking.

At first, he keeps a count of the days. Then days become weeks. Then months. Then years. Eventually, he loses count. But surely this is an illusion. Surely he can't possibly have been here for as long as it seems.

And then he finds the first white hair. He rubs his hands, and they feel strange. His skin is dryer, his knuckles more prominent. He feels his face, and finds wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, at the edges of his mouth.

He's aging.

Panic tears through him like lit kindling, fast and devastating. His hands shake so badly the compass needle jerks. He whirls around, looking for something, anything and--

Behind him, there's a doorway, framed in empty sky. The Burial Mounds, the array, Wen Ning waiting.

Oh, he realizes. Patience.

He turns around, and keeps walking.

He stops counting the days. There's no point in it now. He knows when it'll end, how many days it will take. (All of them, he realizes, as his bones grow brittle, his hair turns white, his back bows, his vision dims. All of them.)

Every time he turns around, there's the door.

If he goes through that door, everything ends (it's been so long, he's so tired). If he goes through the door, he can go home (some days he struggles to remember what LWJ even looks like, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body).

But he'll lose the chance to get LWJ back.

He'll lose all that he'd put up as his bet. If he turns back, he won't have even the memory of LWJ's love to keep him company for the rest of his life.

And then what good would it be, to keep living that life?

He keeps walking. And keeps dying, slowly, one day at a time.

His heart gives out first, stuttering in his chest. His legs follow, buckling, all strength gone. He stumbles, lurches forward, and falls--

Into a pair of white-clad arms.

WWX looks up. His voice is rusty when he speaks; he hasn't used it in decades. "Lan Zhan?"

LWJ blinks down at him. "Who are you?"

(TBC)

WWX lurches back up to his feet. He's himself again, same age, same appearance, same everything except for the fact that LWJ is still looking at him like he's a stranger.

"Lan Zhan?" he asks, and watches in horror as LWJ... backs a polite distance away from him. "I'm Wei Ying."

"Wei Ying," LWJ repeats. His expression doesn't change.

WWX's knees buckle again.

He's heard LWJ say his name countless times in so many different ways: with anger when they first met, concern later, frustration and fear by the end. Then, in his second life, always with love.

He's never heard LWJ say his name like this before, as if the words are an unfamiliar food he's trying for the first time.

For a moment, he thinks it must be a trick. But LWJ feels so solid, smells so real. Then he wonders if he'd failed. Maybe this is his punishment.

But he still has all his memories of LWJ, including what he'd put up as his bet. So this must be the third trial, the test of faith. Maybe it's to see if he can tell a fake LWJ from a real one? But a fake wouldn't be so obvious, surely. The first two trials were agonizing.

This one wouldn't be any less so.

"Wei Ying?" LWJ says again, and WWX realizes that his horror must be showing on his face, bc LWJ continues, "is something wrong?"

"Nothing," WWX says. Pulls himself back together. Gathers the panic unspooling from his chest and shoves it down.

"Do you know where you are?" he says instead. "What do you remember?"

LWJ is still looking at him strangely. "I died. I am in the underworld."

WWX blinks. Well, that makes this explanation easier.

"Yes. Well. Uh, not for much longer, hopefully. I'm here to bring you back."

"Why?" LWJ asks. He takes another step back, a wary set to his shoulders.

(It's been YEARS since LWJ has backed away from him, has looked at him with anything other than utter trust.

Ah, WWX thinks. This third trial isn't any less agonizing than the first two, after all.)

"Your sect sent me," he says. "Your brother, your uncle, your--" (our, he thinks, painfully) "--Sizhui. Do you remember them?"

LWJ nods slowly. "Why did they send you? Who are you to me?"

Oh. He knew this was coming. It doesn't make it hurt any less.

He opens his mouth to say, I'm your husband. But no sound comes out.

He tries again. Your beloved. The only one you've ever loved. The other half of your soul. I belong to you. Even death couldn't keep us apart. I love you so much that I went through hell to find you again.

Nothing.

I see, he thinks. His heart is a sinking stone, falling slowly into deep, dark water. I understand.

He smiles, clasps his hands in front of him. "I'm no one, of course."

(It hurts, oh how it hurts. He thought he already knew pain, but this is new, and it HURTS.)

"Just someone who owes you a life debt, and who now has the privilege of being able to repay it."

"I don't remember you," LWJ says.

"That's to be expected," WWX says, still smiling. "Hanguang-jun is a hero of great renown. I'm just. Just one of many you've saved."

"I should remember you," LWJ says, frowning.

WWX bites his lip so he doesn't blurt out, yes, yes you should. You knew me when I wore a stranger's body, using nothing but a half-remembered song.

"I apologize that I do not," LWJ clasps his hands and bows. "Wei-gongzi."

WWX thinks, 'there is no need for thank you or I'm sorry between us,' and feels his throat tighten, his chest ache like pressure on a bruise. "No apology is needed, Hanguang-jun."

It's easy after that. The compass leads them the rest of the way, back up to the living world.

"How did you convince the Ghost King to release me?" LWJ asks, as they walk.

WWX shrugs. "I asked nicely."

LWJ gives him a skeptical look, and it's so familiar that WWX can't help grinning, leaning in closer.

"What? I'm very charming! Doesn't HGJ believe I can be charming?"

"Yes," LWJ says simply. For a single heartbeat, WWX thinks--but then LWJ moves away again, maintaining the distance between them. "But such things are never without price. I hope yours was not too dear."

There's concern in LWJ's voice, worry in the furrow between his brows.

Even though WWX is a stranger to him now, he's still concerned. Still so kind, his Lan Zhan. So good.

"No," WWX says, quietly. "Not too dear."

(TBC tomorrow for the final update, thank you all for your patience. I'm working hard to make it painful -- uh, I mean, cathartic, for everyone)

The shock recedes; his resolve strengthens. There are no unsolvable problems in the world. The first two trials were about endurance, testing his will. Perhaps this is the same, testing whether his love is true. Whether he will love LWJ even if LWJ doesn't remember him.

Wen Ning is waiting for them, when they return to the world of the living. He's, understandably, surprised when LWJ treats WWX like a stranger, and even more surprised when WWX tells him, with a quick headshake, to not interfere.

"He FORGOT you?" WN asks, when WWX tells him.

"It's part of the test," WWX says. "Once I pass out he'll get his memories back."

"But I thought the tests were for getting him back in the first place. Which you have." WN nods over at LWJ, out of earshot and meditating under a tree. "Why would you still be getting tested?"

A fair question, and one that also tugs at WWX, making cracks in the foundation of his resolve. "I don't know," he says honestly.

WN looks over at LWJ again. "What if he doesn't get his memories back?"

WWX swallows, and scrapes together enough of his old swagger to grin.

"Then I guess I'll simply have to make him fall in love with me again!" He gives WN a wink. "It can't be that hard. I've already done it once, after all, and I was WAY more annoying back then."

That makes WN smile, an echo of his old, well-worn hero worship from when they met.

(The problem with WWX making LWJ fall in love with him again is that WWX has no idea what he did to make LWJ fall in love with him in the first place. He's asked, but LWJ just talked about the purity of goodness in WWX's heart. Which is sweet, but unhelpful as an action plan.)

They part ways with WN, and make the show return to the Cloud Recesses. They walk, since LWJ is still recovering his spiritual energy.

LWJ's eyes widen when WWX reveals that he cannot fly either, the sword at his hip still more often decorative, compared to Chenqing.

"Your cultivation is this low, and you still went to the underworld?" LWJ asks, alarmed.

"Hey, cultivation level isn't everything, you know!" WWX protests. "I have my own set of skills. And are you really going to insult the person who saved your life? Rude, Hanguang-jun!"

LWJ drops his gaze. "I mean no disrespect. Wei-gongzi must have tremendous ability. Retrieving a soul from the underworld would be impossible otherwise." Then, to WWX's dismay, he bows. "I hope Wei-gongzi will accept my apology."

"Accepted, accepted," WWX says hastily.

"The great Hanguang-jun should not be bowing to a nameless nobody like me."

LWJ frowns, the same prissy moue that had charmed WWX so much as a youth. "Status is irrelevant when it comes to gratitude."

"Then stop calling me gongzi. We don't have to be so formal! Call me--"

Wei Ying, is at the tip of his tongue. But then he remembers the bruising ache of hearing LWJ say his name in the underworld, his voice polite and cold, without even a whisper of the love that always lived in LWJ's eyes.

"Wei Wuxian. Call me Wei Wuxian."

Still no recognition. It still hurts.

"Wei Wuxian," LWJ repeats.

"Lan Wangji," WWX says, and tries to ignore the wrongness beating 'Lan Zhan Lan Zhan Lan Zhan,' against the walls of his heart.

(Sorry, I started late and now I'm too tired to continue. Will finish tomorrow!)

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help prodding at the problem of LWJ’s missing memories, as they journey back to the Cloud Recesses. It’s just — LWJ is so like how he used to be that WWX forgets, constantly.

He still wakes up early to fetch them both breakfast, but doesn’t indulge WWX by letting him eat in bed. They still share a room at night, but LWJ takes the floor on occasions when there is only one bed, defeating WWX’s protests by just falling asleep while WWX is mid-argument.

The hardest part is the lack of touch. They haven’t touched once since LWJ caught him in the underworld, and WWX misses it. Wants it. He didn’t think skin could hunger for touch the way bellies hungered for food, but he recognizes the gnawing need, the hollow pangs.

The way his world shrinks every time LWJ gets close to him, until all that matters is the space between their bodies.

It’s not a sex thing — though LWJ has gotten WWX accustomed to a certain number of orgasms per day, and that number is definitely not ZERO.

It’s the brushing of hands over meals, the companiable bumping of arms as they walk, all the thousand little touches that WWX had been taking for granted. Before, LWJ’s body had always made space for him, curving invitingly around the negative space of WWX’s body.

Now, LWJ gives WWX a wide berth, his body swathed in so many layers of cool courtesy that he’s marble-smooth, without a single foothold or handhold to grab onto.

WWX hates it.

As LWJ’s spiritual energy returns, they start night-hunting together. Chenqing stays in WWX’s belt.

He doesn’t know how LWJ feels about demonic cultivation now, and he doesn’t want to find out.

Three night hunts in, WWX makes himself a decoy and darts left, but Bichen isn’t there for the follow-up.

It’s WWX’s mistake (he forgot, AGAIN), but LWJ looks wretchedly guilty as he helps WWX tend his wounds.

“You need not continue to accompany me,” LWJ says. “Retrieving my soul from the underworld is sufficient repayment of your debt to me.”

“What, because I got scratched a little? This is nothing! I’ve had far worse.”

LWJ’s frown deepens. Ah, right, WWX remembers. His LWJ didn’t like this line of argument either.

“Anyway, I’m the one who decides when my debt is paid,” he says, smiling to try to diffuse the tension. “Besides, what if I just enjoy your company?”

The look LWJ gives him is eloquent in its disbelief. WWX can’t help laughing, and regrets it when that pulls at the injury.

That night, while they’re preparing for sleep, LWJ says, in the darkness, “You say I saved you once. How did it happen?”

WWX opens his eyes. You loved me, he wants to say. Even when I didn’t deserve to be loved. Even when I couldn’t love you back. Even when it hurt you to do it.

“There was a misunderstanding. You...took my side, and helped me resolve it.”

LWJ is quiet for a moment. “Just for that, you ventured into the underworld to retrieve my soul?”

“Yes.”

Another silence. Then, very softly, “Was it difficult?”

LWJ has never asked what WWX went through to get him back. He doesn’t seem to be asking now, not for specifics, anyway. “Yes. But worth it, in the end.”

“Because of your debt.”

There is an unspoken ‘only’ in LWJ’s words that WWX doesn’t like.

“No. Because you’re a good person, and the world needs more of those.”

It’s a compromise btwn an outright lie and the full truth: which is that WWX couldn’t bear to lose another person he loved. He’s not as strong as LWJ, who could carry grief without breaking under the weight.

“You overestimate my value, I—”

“No,” WWX says immediately, and with all the conviction he has. “With respect, Hanguang-jun, I do not.”

This time, the silence is long and fraught with tension. “Thank you,” LWJ says, in the end. His voice is whisper-soft.

“Also, we agreed to dispense with formalities, did we not? Wei Wuxian.”

WWX smiles. “We did, Lan Wangji.”

This time, it hurts less.

It gets easier after that, and harder, as LWJ becomes more used to WWX’s presence, and WWX becomes more used to not being loved. The next time they night-hunt, they move together like music, sword and talisman two parts of a song.

LWJ also seems to gain an interest in WWX’s life, inquiring about his background (“uh, it’s a long story?”), his unusual cultivation (“even longer story”), and his current occupation (“I’m a researcher and teacher”).

“What of your family?” LWJ asks, undaunted by WWX’s occasional evasive answers. “Do you have children? Or…” He blushes, pretty as always, and continues, “a cultivation partner?”

(Yes, LWJ is asking WWX if he’s single. No, WWX doesn’t figure that out.)

A soulmate, WWX wants to say, but his mouth seals shut. Ah, not even this. “Not exactly. But I do have someone in my heart.”

LWJ doesn’t ask any more questions after that.

(Yes, LWJ spends the rest of their journey irrationally jealous. No, WWX doesn’t figure that out either.)

Eventually, they reach the mist-covered mountains of the Cloud Recesses. WWX sends a message to announce their arrival, and a longer, more extensive message to LQR, explaining what has happened.

As such, none of the Lan disciples bat an eye when LQR publicly thanks WWX for his actions, or when LQR tells WWX that guest quarters have been prepared for him.

(Jingyi is there, though, mouth tight as his gaze darts back and forth between LWJ and WWX.)

It’s not until he steps into the guest quarters that he realizes he’s never been there. When he was a student, he stayed in the disciple dormitories with the rest of his sect. In his second life, he stayed exclusively in the Jingshi,

first as LWJ’s unwilling guest, then as LWJ’s stowaway, and finally as his husband.

Out of all he’s been through since LWJ’s death, this tiny detail shouldn’t be what breaks him. And yet.

Abruptly, painfully, he realizes that he can’t stay here if things continue like this.

If LWJ doesn’t get his memory back, if WWX got it wrong somehow and this isn’t the trial he thought it was, then he has to leave. Otherwise he’ll be reminded, every single day for the rest of his life, of what he’s lost.

A sob heaves through his body like a punch.

With shaking hands, he puts up silencing talismans — just in case — and sinks to his knees on the floor, sinks his face into his hands, and doesn’t get up for a long, long time.

When he finishes, he feels empty. Hollow. And, in a terrible way, kind of peaceful. He already has what he wanted: LWJ, alive and well. That’s already more than what he would have had if he hadn’t done this. He genuinely has no regrets.

“I’m not going to stop loving him either,” he says, just in case the Ghost King is listening. “So if that IS what I’m supposed to do for this trial, I’m not dropping out. You don’t get to take him back. I’ll just...keep loving him from somewhere else.”

LWJ is still in the infirmary when he sneaks into the Jingshi (he doesn’t need to sneak; the wards fall away at his touch, as they’ve always done since the night they remade the wards together, hand in hand, energies entwining eagerly around each other

until they finished and made love right there in the entryway). He rifles carefully through the cupboards for his belongings. Someone — Sizhui probably; no one else would dare to enter HGJ’s personal quarters — has already removed most of the signs of a second person.

Only one pillow rests on the bed, one set of clothes in the cupboards.

WWX makes a bag out of a spare bedsheet and removes the rest: his writing set and research notebooks, his collection of trinkets from the various places he’s visited, his stash of Emperor’s Smile.

Their spring books, with WWX’s own erotic drawings tucked between the pages. Their other bedroom accessories.

Then, as WWX exits, he bites his finger, draws a talisman, and places it against the stones that anchor the wards. “Unbind,” he commands, and it activates.

No one sees him sneak out of the Jingshi, either. WWX wonders, idly, if that’s intentional, if someone (LQR?) is keeping LWJ away on purpose to give WWX this opportunity to exit gracefully. He’s grateful. If he HAD been considering staying longer, this would settle it for him.

Sizhui is waiting by WWX’s door, when WWX returns to the guest quarters. His expression is grim and sad as his gaze lands on the bundle in WWX’s hands. “You’re leaving.”

WWX sighs. Nods.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Sizhui’s eyes widen. “So soon?”

WWX sighs again. “I can’t stay. Do you understand why?”

Sizhui bites his lip, and nods. He’s such a good child, a clever, wise child; WWX sees so much of LWJ in him that it hurts. “I do.” He reaches into his sleeve, and pulls out a qiankun pouch. “Some money and supplies.”

WWX goes up to him, takes the qiankun pouch, and is immediately engulfed in a hug. They’ll be the same height soon, he realizes, and feels tears well up in his eyes all over again.

“You’ll write, won’t you?” Sizhui asks urgently. “And-and we’ll meet up for night hunts, right?

And if anything happens, you know you can always come back—”

“I know.” WWX pats Sizhui’s head, his fingers sliding across the ends of his forehead ribbon. “I’ll write, A-Yuan. I promise.”

He packs lightly that night, and goes to bed early. Surprisingly (or perhaps not; he remembers how exhausting sorrow can be), it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.

The Cloud Recesses is quiet when he wakes up, still clad in the dim blue of pre-dawn.

WWX dons a fresh set of clothes (his own; Sizhui was definitely the one who took his stuff from the Jingshi), and heads out. It’s early enough that he can take the scenic route off the mountain, passing the rabbit fields to greet early-risers and remind them to be good for HGJ.

Once he’s outside the perimeter wards of the Cloud Recesses, he removes his jade token and tosses it back through the barrier, where it will be easily spotted by the first shift of gate guards. Then he turns around, and walks away.

The sun is still on the rise when the time WWX reaches the base of the mountain, already tired and regretting not eating before he left. He’s also lonely; with LWJ absent and Little Apple still in Caiyi, this is the first time he’s been alone since he left the underworld.

Well, there’s not much he can do about being hungry and lonely, but he can at least rest his feet for a while. He finds a tree with a sturdy, inviting branch, and jumps up onto it, leaning his back against the trunk and stretching out his legs in front of him.

He pulls Chenqing from his belt, spins it between his fingers. Then brings it to his lips, and begins to play their song.

It won’t work, he knows that. But there’s a tiny corner of his heart that still clings to hope, enough that he didn’t play it at all, on their journey back.

This was the song that WWX heard once, delirious with fever, and it lodged in his heart so deeply that even death didn’t take it away. It was the song that made LWJ recognize him, after 13 years, in another body.

He plays, and pours all his love, his longing, into the song, like an offering to the gods. He knows he’s had so many miracles already, so many lucky escapes, so many second chances that he didn’t deserve. But maybe, just maybe, the gods would be kind enough to give him one more.

The last note fades away into the stillness of the morning air. WWX bows his head, and hopes.

“Wei Wuxian?”

WWX startles, nearly falling off the branch. He honestly didn’t know what he was expecting the song to do but it definitely wasn’t to conjure LWJ out of thin air???

“Lan Zhan?” he says, his heart a flock of songbirds fluttering in his chest.

Beneath the tree, perfect and beautiful as moonlight over water, LWJ looks up at him. And holds up a jade token. “Is this yours? I found it at the gates.”

Oh.

Well.

He’d already known that it wouldn’t work. The confirmation of something he’d already known should not make him feel like he’s bleeding out, like he’s being cored hollow (again! hah!).

“Not anymore,” he says. “It was only ever lent to me. So I returned it.”

LWJ frowns, his gaze passing over WWX’s clothes and bags. “You’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“Why? I-” LWJ pauses, uncharacteristically, then continues, “Lan sect would be honored to host you for as long as you wish to stay.”

WWX smiles tiredly. “I have stayed for as long as I wished.”

“Where do you intend to go?”

“Not sure,” he says with a shrug. “But the word is a big place, and I’ve seen so little of it. I might just pick a direction and see where it takes me.”

For some reason, that makes LWJ look...upset. Almost distraught, his mouth pinched at the corners and his fists clenched at his sides. “I. You are sure you will not stay?”

Temptation tugs at WWX’s heartstrings.

But he thinks about a lifetime of LWJ’s polite distance, his cool, impersonal courtesy. Of watching LWJ give his soft eye-smile to Sizhui, Jingyi, his brother, but never to WWX. Of maybe, one day, having to watch LWJ look at someone else the way he used to look at WWX.

“I’m sure.” His voice comes out alarmingly hoarse. Immediately, he plasters on a grin and bats his eyes, adding, “What, will Lan Er-gongzi miss me? Did you really enjoy my company that much?”

As expected, LWJ goes pink at the ears, and looks away.

WWX sighs and lets himself enjoy what will probably be the last time he gets to make LWJ blush, then looks away himself, to slot Chenqing back into his belt.

“May I come with you?”

For a moment, WWX thinks he might be hearing things. “What? What did you--WHAT? Why?”

“I did enjoy your company,” LWJ says. His expression is determined, gaze steady as mountains. “I do not wish to miss you. May I come with you?”

“That’s. You. But.” WWX flutters his hands, as though that’ll somehow help untangle his tongue (it doesn’t).

“What about. Uh. What about your sect?”

LWJ turns his gaze back up the way he came, and WWX watches in astonishment as something in his eyes softens. “I believe they will understand.”

(Sizhui tossed and turned all night and then as soon as he woke up he went to find WWX to try to convince him one last time to stay, and when he found WWX had left he went straight to LWJ, woke him up, and basically begged him to go after WWX. It didn't take much begging.)

THAT MAKES ONE OF US, WWX thinks, hysterically. LWJ doesn’t remember him, barely knows him, and yet he enjoys WWX’s company? Enough that he wants to keep being with WWX?

WWX’s stunned silence must drag on for too long, because some of the determination cracks in LWJ’s expression

“If. If my presence would be an imposition—”

“No!” WWX says automatically. Gods, he can’t make LWJ look sad like this, he’d be the worst monster in the world. “Your presence would be.” Everything. Everything I’ve ever wanted.

Oh he can’t believe he’s grateful to this fucking trial for keeping his mouth shut. “An honour. A privilege, really. It’s just. I.” He’s floundering, he knows he’s floundering. “I snore?”

LWJ blinks. His shoulders relax a little, and his face. Does something. “You do not.”

“I’m a demonic cultivator!”

Now LWJ is looking almost amused, the absolute bastard. “I am aware.”

“What? HOW? I--no, nevermind, look. Are you sure?”

LWJ nods. "I'm sure."

(How LWJ figured out that WWX is a demonic cultivator, a quick summary:

WWX: ok I won't use Chenqing bc he can't know that I'm a demonic cultivator
Also WWX: *uses every other demonic cultivation tool he owns, invents new talismans on the fly that are demonic in nature--

--and sometimes comes back from nighthunts limned in seething shadow*

LWJ, not an idiot: I am connecting some dots.)

It can’t possibly be forever. LWJ still has sect duties, what with LXC still in partial seclusion and his responsibilities to the juniors. But that doesn’t stop his dumb, traitorous heart from reminding him of the fantasies he’d had before he realized he was in love with LWJ:

of living together, him tending the fields and LWJ tending the house. And even if they don’t get that, even if all WWX gets is LWJ for a little while and then occasional visits afterward, maybe, one day, if LWJ keeps enjoying his company, keeps missing him when they’re apart...

He remembers, suddenly, what he’d said to Wen Ning: ‘Then I guess I'll simply have to make him fall in love with me again!’ He’d already done it once, and he’d been the most hated person in the cultivation world, then. Maybe, maybe--

“All right,” WWX says. “If. If you’re sure.”

LWJ just nods again.

“Oh. Well. I’ll just get down, then.” He stands up on shaky legs, and— feels the bark give way under his feet, the swoop in his stomach of tilting and falling, his arms windmilling uselessly in empty air.

As he rushes toward the ground, he thinks:

Ah. This time it’ll hurt. This fall, and all the other ones to come, will hurt. He braces himself, and falls—

Into a pair of white-clad arms.

“Wei Ying?”

“I’m fine,” he says reflexively, and then goes still. “Wait. What did you—” He looks up, and oh. OH.

Oh.

LWJ looks down at him, parted lips and furrowed brows and an ocean’s worth of love in his eyes. “Wei Ying, are you all right?”

Somewhere in WWX’s mind, a presence unfurls and laughs softly. “Not bad, little mortal,” the Ghost King says.

Thank you, WWX thinks in return. Thank you so much. Thank you. Out loud, he says, finally, “I’m your husband. I love you.”

Now LWJ looks alarmed. “Wei Ying?”

“I’m here!” WWX replies, elated. “I love how you say my name, have I ever told you that? It’s my favourite thing to hear you say. I love you so much. I love everything about you. I’m so happy to be your husband. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Wei Ying, you’re crying.” LWJ reaches up and wipes a thumb across his cheeks, and oh, he is crying, as if there’s so much joy in him that some of it is leaking out. 

"Lan Zhan," WWX says, for the joy of being allowed to say it. He catches LWJ's hand and brings it to his lips.

"Do you remember what happened?"

For a moment, LWJ just stares at him. Then, between one blink and the next, his eyes lose focus, gaze turned inward. "I. Died?" He re-emerges like a man waking from sleep, and drops wide, horrified eyes to WWX's upturned face. "I died, and you.

Wei Ying! You went--how did you. And I. I forgot you!"

"Lan Zhan!" WWX lets go of LWJ's hand to clasp his face instead, pulling it down so their foreheads can touch. "It's ok, it's all ok now, sweetheart. Beloved, my heart. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

LWJ holds WWX tighter, his expression utterly remorseful. "How could you have risked yourself like that?"

WWX laughs, still crying. They're both crying now. "How could I not? No, don't argue." He puts a shushing finger to LWJ's lips. "I promise we'll talk later.

But first there's something very important that I need you to to for me, Lan Zhan, and it can only be you."

"Anything," LWJ says. "Anything for you."

"Kiss me. I haven't been kissed in...a lifetime, it feels like. I'd ask you to also fuck me but we're probably too exposed--"

LWJ kisses him, hard and desperate at first, before gentling into something slower, but still passionate. WWX melts into his embrace and kisses back with equal fervor. He feels like a desert after rainfall, parched earth green again, near-dead plants bursting back to life.

Then LWJ picks him up and carries him off the path, and WWX discovers that they're not too exposed after all.

Afterwards, they do talk. Not about what WWX went through in the underworld; he doesn't think he'll be ready to talk about that for a while. But he lets LWJ talk about what it was like to look at WWX and see a stranger.

"You didn't feel like a stranger," LWJ says.

"I didn't understand why I couldn't remember you. I dreamed about you."

WWX, warm and loved in the circle of LWJ's arms, grins slyly. "Ohh? Were they THOSE kinds of dreams?"

LWJ pinched him gently, admonishing. "No. Though I did want to touch you all the time. And " He blushes.

"I was jealous, when you said you already had someone in your heart."

WWX laughs, but rewards his honesty with a kiss. "Is that why you wanted to come with me? To make sure I didn't go back to my lover?"

"No." LWJ strokes WWX's hair away from his face. His hands are so gentle.

"I went with you because Sizhui barged into the Jingshi and begged me not to let you go. He said I'd regret it for the rest of my life."

More tears spill down WWX's cheeks. He tucks his face against LWJ's collarbone and says, "He's a good child, our Sizhui."

"Mn," LWJ agrees.

"I didn't need much convincing," LWJ continues softly. "Things weren't making sense. I knew I was missing something but I didn't know what, and no one would tell me." He gazes down at WWX again, still with so much love. "The only thing that made sense was you. Being with you.

I didn't know what that meant, but I thought, if nothing else, it would be a good place to start.

And then you slipped off the branch."

"You caught me."

"Yes. I think my body moved on its own. I couldn't let you fall. And then, when you were in my arms, I knew you."

"You knew me," WWX echoes, still feeling like he's made of light. Then he puts on an exaggerated pout and curls more snugly into LWJ's arms. "But you took so long. I had to wait such a long time for you. You'd better make it up to me."

LWJ kisses him, lush and lingering. "Yes.

For the rest of my life, I am yours."

"Just one lifetime? How stingy! Three at least, Hanguang-jun. I'll invent something to bind our souls together so they won't be separated, even when we reincarnate. Then I'll come find you every lifetime. You'll never escape me!"

At that, LWJ starts to laugh, cutting off WWX's words entirely as he stares, transfixed.

"Good," he says, and kisses WWX again.

THE END

Thank you all for your support and patience! ♥️♥️♥️

(For the record, WWX does eventually tell LWJ what happened in the underworld. It's another teary night. WWX claims that he did it because he's not as strong as LWJ. LWJ respectfully disagrees, and asserts that WWX is far, far stronger.

They also go traveling after this.

They both need time to process what happened, and being alone together is the best place for themselves and for each other. The journey towards healing is a slow one, but a good travel companion goes a long way.

On their journey, they're careful to visit any temples dedicated

to the Ghost King, and leave offerings and prayers of thanks. In one of them, they encounter a white-clad Taoist, who remarks that most people find the Ghost King scary and cruel, and is strangely delighted when WangXian both say that he's actually a pretty cool dude.

But that's another story. 😊)