Chapter Text
It was almost natural, the way every illusion shattered in an instant. His carefree and idle days hunting for birds, his calligraphy and art, the long forgotten saber he’d been careful to forget in hard-to find but seemingly simple locations… Everything came to an end so quickly. But never had he felt the loss so keenly as he watched his brother’s face contort into an unrecognizable fury.
“Da-ge!” he couldn’t help but scream. His brother had always been so strong and unshakeable, so firm and constant a presence, that he’d ignored the signs of Jin Guangyao’s poison eating away at his sensibilities.
Da-ge was simply harsh on him because he loved him, and had mostly given up on Huaisang’s martial capabilities by the time Sunshot had occurred. He’d reveled in how lavish his lifestyle had been, and forced himself to ignore the ways Da-ge had been growing more irritable and condescending. Now, the almost-frenetic anger in Da-ge’s gaze as he spun wildly around, slashing at whatever was closest, had become too much for him to see. He cowered physically, but his instincts, even now, couldn’t stop him from running towards the one constant he’d had in his life.
Da-ge, who was strong. Da-ge, who had always been untouchable, no matter the quagmire of war and sect politics, who roared and slashed at thin air with his saber. He had to stop him. “It’s me, Huaisang,” he cried desperately, reaching towards him.
It took one powerful swing down for Huaisang to realize how horrible that idea was, as the saber swiped his chest and leg. He still cried out for his brother to stop anyway, his shouts clearing others away from the vicinity of his brother and fallen Nie disciples.
Despite the recognition clearing the film of bloodlust from Da-ge’s eyes, he knew it was too late as Da-ge met his eyes with a terrified anger, then Jin Guangyao’s.
Of course he was crying. Memory-wise, Huaisang felt nothing but shock, convinced still that he was here to help, and was just as devastated as he was. Jin Guangyao was capable, and despite Da-ge’s growing misgivings, Huaisang knew (thought) he would fix everything, figure out what was wrong with their eldest brother, and do everything in his power to save him, as he knew he or Da-ge would do for the man.
It was sickening in hindsight how composed San-ge was, the way he positioned his staff and gently took charge of the temporary workings of the Nie Sect as they lost their leader almost overnight. He and Lan Xichen swept in, assured him that they had everything covered, and let him grieve in his pretty little room of soft comforts, to heal from the injuries Da-ge had unknowingly given him.
Would he really have figured anything out without his clan’s saber spirit suppressing rituals? Neither Lan Xichen or Jin Guangyao had been close enough to his brother, he’d thought. If Jin Guangyao had been better at winning Da-ge over, Huaisang doubted that any of his revenge would have ever occurred. He would still be sitting pretty in his sect, blind trust working to keep him as a puppet to the greater interests of the Jin clan, and ultimately, Jin Guangyao.
The memories skipped forward, rushing him through the haze of burial proceedings and grief, the clan specific rituals they would have to complete, the days Jin Guangyao so effortlessly conducted business about the sect for him. Like a properly doting brother, he’d point out areas where Nie Huaisang could learn to lead his people effectively, but stop just as he got too close to outright encouraging Huaisang to try. It was as though he too was too overwhelmed by Da-ge’s sudden passing to let his dear younger brother handle his grief alone.
Lan Xichen’s comfort too was tinged with an awkward, if gentle sadness. He coaxed Huaisang out of his room and asked him about his birds and fans, about the scenery and landscape and then about his interests. He almost seemed too used to this, had the same sort of hollow look on his face as though he was watching someone he cared too much about just wither away.
Hanguang-jun, at the very least, was bed-ridden and could be trusted not to go anywhere for the meanwhile. At least, thought Huaisang, he had the excuse of lying in his room, that his very much hushed punishment for going against the unrighteous path had left him physically unable to do anything.
He remembered losing friends to the war, casual acquaintances, had to grow accustomed to the possibility of losing his brother in a far off battlefield, but he’d stopped expecting it, had grown softer than anyone intended, and it all just felt unreal.
The sadness hit at the most unexpected of times, cruel, idle little thoughts that reminded him of the minutiae of Da-ge’s life, his warm words and stern chidings, odd and tense feelings that left him feeling bereft of stability, unmoored by the knowledge that he’d have to navigate alone.
Before the saber spirit calming ritual, after the internment of the body but before the saber itself realized its master was no longer there to bid it to destroy evil, Huaisang remembered one, fateful but odd conversation.
Before Jin Guangyao had become his sworn enemy, and before Huaisang had realized anything had gone wrong.
He was in the courtyard Da-ge had so often barged into, changing its designation as a garden he liked to hide in to a rudimentary training field so as to force a younger Huaisang into saber practice, then as a place to house his birds, and back to a simple garden.
Huaisang sat on the steps of stone, head tilted back, looking up at the sky. The lanterns had long flickered out, and the garden seemed hazy in the gloom that had set over the evening. His mind felt dull, worn down by the sleepless nights and the time he’d spent stifling his sorrows for the work that came with the sort of massive upheaval the sect was going through.
Jin Guangyao, for all he offered his help, had no real way to understand the difference between what Huaisang knew about sect leadership now than what he’d been able to skate by not knowing, and it would be a long time yet before he’d be able to catch up.
For his part, the Huaisang of that time reflected, Jin Guangyao really was one of the most competent people he’d ever met. He’d had to deal with Jin Guangshan offshouldering all of his work onto him for conferences, balance his plan for the watchtowers and defenses of common people with the politics that came with being part of a prominent and wealthy clan.
The garden was quiet despite the buzz of insects in the summer evening, so Huaisang was able to hear Jin Guangyao’s soft footsteps. Had he always been that quiet?
“Huaisang, it’s late. Have you had anything to eat yet?” His voice was soft, gentle, filled with a kind of mournful understanding.
Despite his affirmative answer, Jin Guangyao pushed a mantou into his hand. “It’s important to keep moving, if even..” His voice broke, cracked in the kind of way Huaisang almost wished his would, so that the world would know how upset and overwhelmed he was, even if his body refused to do nothing but sit and stagnate.
There was a sigh, as Jin Guangyao hastily dropped to sit next to him. “I understand how you feel,” he said. There was an almost bitter undertone to the way he phrased his next words. “You haven’t had a lot of preparation and you’re at a loss for what to do now, because no one will give you what you need to get your plans through, and the choices you’ll have to make from now on, you need to make them by choosing the path of least resistance.”
Huaisang must have asked for clarification, because Jin Guangyao went on to say more. About the kind of way he needed to deal with inter-sect politics, inter clan politics, and about the importance of allies in different places. It was unfortunate how much of this information was useful to him later on.
Even more, the path of least resistance and his startling rise to power should have clued Nie Huaisang on, at the very least, that his brother was murdered for the politics he’d inadvertently mucked up for Jin Guangyao. Da-ge had been firm and uncompromising, but had prided himself on standing up to evil.
Huaisang, at this remembered moment, could only ask, fueled by a brighter memory where Da-ge had been willing to praise Lianfang-zun for his values and abilities, “Your plan for the watchtowers, Da-ge pledged to support them. How are those coming along?”
The shock and sudden guilt and discomfort that filled his expression before he masked it with a response that conveyed some sort of generic sympathy was the first and only time he’d seen Jin Guangyao’s mask slip before the end.
Huaisang would ruminate over that moment for years. Had Jin Guangyao not known that Da-ge would be willing to support his better plans? He only cared about justice, and did his best with the power he was given. Or did Jin Guangyao think that Da-ge’s objections to his plans were born out of a desire to curb the growing wealth and influence of the Jin sect?
It was funny how power and influence came hand and hand in the oppression of smaller clans and a willingness to trample on those that merely stood in the way.
Huaisang knew all too well that people could change between lifetimes. He’d seen it firsthand with his friends. The circumstances that they grew up in were much healthier, and so their personalities had changed drastically from when he’d last met them. They belonged to a modern realm now, and the jockeying for power and influence that he’d seen in a previous lifetime was gone (though he suspected that a lot had to do with no longer having hereditary positions of power).
His discomfort with Meng Yao was borne from the actions of a previous lifetime, but the most nefarious thing he’d done was become Da-ge’s friend. He was Huaisang’s tutor, who sat through math problems with Huaisang no matter how much he fussed, who put up with pranks and jokes, who admitted to liking his favorite video games because they could have something to talk about, and who’d crept into Huaisang’s circle of obligation without him realizing.
It was upsetting to realize that Meng Yao made sure to check in on him as much as Da-ge did, that they were all close enough that Huaisang almost didn’t want to ruin their current friendship from a grievance born of a murder plot from another lifetime.
Wen Ning had stared him down as he’d done nothing but stutter. He couldn’t even flee, because his brother was picking them both up, and had decided to bring Meng Yao with him because they’d had ‘such little time to hang out,’ and it would undoubtedly be a shame if Huaisang and Wen Ning had kept hanging around them, so Huaisang had shoved some cookies onto a plate and forced Wen Ning to follow him into his room.
“This really is Qinghe from our lifetime,” said Wen Ning, as he stood in front of the painting framed above Huaisang’s bed. “Has your brother said anything about this at all?”
“No, he just encourages my interest in traditional art, because according to Meng Yao ,” Huaisang emphasized, making air quotes around the phrase, “It would be good for college applications if I wanted to have an art portfolio, and because our parents are never concerned with anything that isn’t related to collegiate success, my dad hasn’t said much either.”
Wen Ning blanched. “Wait, do you think our parents would…”
Huaisang had to rack his brain. “I would hope not, but I don’t really think anyone other than the current generation would remember because…” He was unsure how what Wei Wuxian had pulled off had worked, and at this point, he couldn’t ask. “I don’t think so, but I would hope not, I guess.”
Huaisang was embarrassed to admit that he spent most of the time Da-ge had Meng Yao over eavesdropping on them, but they’d taken to leaving him behind if they wanted to go somewhere, so he gestured to Da-ge’s old desktop.
“Do you want to look at the notes I’ve taken from everything I remember?”
Wen Ning nodded. “We can corroborate, and if I may, I’d like to help you plan your session so you don’t tread over anyone’s…”
Huaisang nodded. While he hadn’t initially cared, they were his friends and the thought of re-traumatizing them with something even he still struggled with… “That sounds good, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Wen Ning’s slightly disinterested, cold stare had softened. It had been terrifying while it had lasted, though he knew his friend was just concerned. He would wonder if he had cribbed any of Da-ge’s mannerisms, but he knew better.
“You and your sister are really alike,” he wound up saying, as Wen Ning scrolled through what political minutiae he’d bothered writing down.
Wen Ning’s face darkened, at that. “Not where it counts,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Okay, let me rephrase. She was a talented doctor and wanted to do good. But the war and her silence because we had to stand by the main clan meant that we and the rest of our clan were to be punished, despite having picked up no sword against anyone.”
It seemed painful for him to talk about, but Huaisang didn’t want to interrupt.
“I still feel that if we had all joined the other side of the war, we could have spared so many people? And our silence and support of the ruling party meant that more people were hurt in the aftermath.” He sighed. “My sister and I helped people, but we did so in secret. I wanted to help more, but we couldn’t, because of the retribution we would have faced at our kin’s hands.”
Huaisang didn’t know what to say to that, so he settled for a sympathetic response. “That must have been really hard to deal with,” he said simply.
Wen Ning shot him an amused look. “It’s okay, Huaisang. I don’t really think you were very culpable for anything during the war, from what I heard from Wei-Wei Wuxian.” He sat down on Huaisang’s bed, idly tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. “In any case, I think you need to go and seriously think about the consequences of introducing a war and conflict that was directly responsible for a lot of our problems into a tabletop campaign that you can’t just stop without everyone remembering and agreeing to.”
Huaisang felt queasy. “I….. please help.”
Wen Ning beamed. “Gladly.”
The Fall of Lotus Pier was about as hard as Huaisang had thought it would be to set up with Wen Ning. He sighed and tutted about the way Lotus Pier’s defenses were set up, had pointed out key weak spots and advised him not to bring the Core Melting Hand into the picture, but that Yu Ziyuan could still lead the disciples.
“We don’t want to overwhelm them,” he said, “And we don’t want everyone to die, but maybe you can have everyone on the run?”
Huaisang nodded. “Have the residents of Lotus Pier captured but alive, and then introduce the Core Melting Hand so that Wei Ying can hopefully have his memory jogged when he can do demonic cultivation?”
Wen Ning smiled. “That sounds appropriate, hopefully this goes well.”
Huaisang shuddered. “You have never had to DM yourselves, have you?”
The session did not go as planned almost immediately, when Lan Zhan almost refused to enter Lotus Pier. He seemed distressed, his fingers clenching onto his dice. “I don’t think I should be here, the Cloud Recesses were attacked by the Wen Clan before I got to the camp, so I should go home, shouldn’t I?”
Wei Ying patted his shoulder. “You’re okay! Besides, Huaisang wouldn’t let anything happen to the Cloud Recesses without you knowing, right?”
Huaisang nodded emphatically, for his part. “It’s going to be okay, I can promise you that.”
Jiang Cheng noticed what he wasn’t saying. “Hey, you didn’t say that about Lotus Pier!”
He could only grin innocently in response, fanning his face gently. “I didn’t not say anything about Lotus Pier either…”
Jin Zixuan’s brow furrowed. “We should protect it, then, right?”
Wen Ning caught his eyes, and gave him a thumbs up, so Huaisang launched into the intro. “Well, in any case, you’re all here, and you have war plans to give to Jiang Cheng’s parents, so you should probably hurry. The town is sunny and bright, children playing on the streets before you get to the sect buildings. Madam Yu, the Violet Spider of Meishan Yu and Jiang Wanyin’s mother, stands tall to greet all of you.”
The party was excited, so Huaisang amped up the planning aspect, had Madam Yu leave Jiang Wanyin in charge of certain defenses, allowed the party to move people in different areas.
Huaisang did his best not to feel a sense of nervous anticipation, considering how pivotal this part of their lives had been for Jiang Cheng, at the very least. It was strange feeling out and skirting the different places in the narrative that had led to their destruction in a previous lifetime. Jiang Cheng tensed every time he mentioned the kites sailing above the waterfront, or the sect leader. It was odd, and finally, as the party declared that they had prepared their defenses, Jiang Cheng leaned his head on the table and declared that he had a headache.
“I’m really sorry, everyone,” he said, between breaths to calm himself down. “It’s probably okay, I think we should keep going.”
Huaisang brought out his Wen figures, and arrayed them before the gates of Lotus Pier.
Wei Ying’s eyes grew wide at his third box. “That’s a lot more than the plans had, Huaisang.”
Jin Zixuan nodded. “Can we take on all of them, with the sect leader away?”
Jiang Cheng put his head in his hands, groaning slightly. “Maybe see if they have some sort of representative?”
Huaisang nodded slightly. “They seem to have Wen Chao, along with his girlfriend.”
“We should let them in, see what they have to say,” said Jiang Cheng.
“Okay,” said Huaisang. “They’re going to march in, just the two of them, to meet with Madam Yu and the rest of you.”
Lan Zhan, too, was tense, hand halfway to clutching at Wei Ying’s, despite the way the other boy vibrated with energy.
“Wen Chao strides in, with his girlfriend making snide little comments about everything, including the decor. They sit down, and Wen Chao gives you all the pissiest glare for existing.” Huaisang started. The mention of Wang Lingjao seemed to make Jiang Cheng close his eyes in pain.
Huaisang rushed through his next words. He almost wanted to reassure Jiang Cheng, but he knew it would be taken oddly by the rest of them. “You know all of your defenses are sound, and everything’s been prepared. All the fighting-ready disciples have been ushered into their stations. Madam Yu pours tea for only Wen Chao, but Wang Lingjao drinks it herself.”
Wen Ning snorted briefly, which gave Huaisang enough courage to rush through the conversation between the three of them.
It was when the talk of Lotus Pier becoming a Wen Supervisory Office came through that Jiang Cheng shuddered. “Screw it,” he said. “Let’s get rid of them and stop this from happening.”
Huaisang looked to Wen Ning for help, but he just shrugged. “Well, Madam Yu doesn’t disagree. Roll for initiative!”
The party was able to keep the defenses from breaking, but it became increasingly clear that the disciples of Lotus Pier were too few in number in comparison to the attacking force. Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng had corralled the main invasive force into a courtyard where they dropped as many down as possible.
Unfortunately for all of them and their lovingly named swords left behind, there would be just too many of the enemy to fight off. Lan Zhan closed his eyes once he was about 3 hit points from getting knocked out. “I don’t think we can make it through this. Is there any way that we can retreat with the more vulnerable disciples?”
Huaisang sighed. “Yes, you can. You and Wen Ning prepared the boats on the other side of the river, right?”
Jiang Cheng chose to keep fighting, despite his character clinging to his last 3 hit points as well. “I can’t let them all just…” he started, fist clenching. “They can’t just be-”
“You can come back for them,” said Wen Ning desperately. “You shouldn’t be here right now, I’ll get them out and to you, I promise.”
Jiang Cheng looked at him with shock, eyes watering. “Okay,” he said, letting his dice clatter onto the table. Huaisang had the feeling that he’d missed something big, but couldn’t fathom what had just happened.
Chest clenching tight with guilt, he chose to speak. “Madam Yu sends you all onto the boats when the siege grows to be too much. Jiang Wanyin, you find your mother’s Zidian on your finger when you’re further out on the river. Somehow, she slipped it into your hands when she left you all out on the boat.”
At that, Jiang Cheng started to cry, silently putting his head into his hands.
“Um….” Jin Zixuan trailed off. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks for running session,” said Wen Ning. “I’ll go get some Tylenol, for Jiang Cheng’s headache.”
Jiang Cheng curled his head further into his hands. “That would be nice,” he muttered into the table.
“I’ll get you some water, too,” said Jin Zixuan, awkwardly patting his shoulder.
Wei Ying looked confused, but chimed his agreement in. “My mom’s going to pick us up in an hour, do you need me to do anything while we wait?”
“No, it’s fine, go have your playdate with Lan Zhan,” he said, face down.
Huaisang muffled his snort and went to see Jin Zixuan off, as Wei Ying proceeded to drag Lan Zhan into his own room.
When he closed the door behind himself, he found Wen Ning, Jiang Cheng, and a toilet paper roll.
“You need to know,” said Jiang Cheng, “that I had no idea what all of this was really about, until… ” His nose was flushed, and he aggressively scrubbed at his face. “I’m not making a habit of this, I’m not,” he snapped, voice cracking on the last word. “I mean, it’s just hard,” he said, voice breaking off into a whine.
“I… truly am sorry,” started Huaisang. “It really wasn’t my intention to-”
“Give me back memories of my family dying?” said Jiang Cheng. “Of my sect getting brutally murdered, of my core-”
He burst into tears again. Wen Ning fixed a helpless gaze onto Huaisang as he frantically unrolled the toilet paper, allowing Jiang Cheng to continue furiously wiping his face.
“Give me a couple days.” he said at last, gaze far away. “I’ll talk to you… later.”
He stewed in worry all of the next week. Da-ge had left for college once more, so there really wasn’t anyone to notice how upset he’d been, but he couldn’t help but worry the stress was leaking out of the cracks. Wen Ning had messaged him a few times about the situation, to express regret that his ideas to soften the impact of Huaisang’s poorly thought out ideas hadn’t worked, but that he would do his best to make sure no one else in their little group got hurt. Jiang Cheng hadn’t messaged their group chat even once since the debacle had happened.
They would be meeting again soon, to create some sort of buffer between the high stakes situation of the last session and to pace out the war part of the campaign Huaisang had promised a once-eager Jiang Cheng. Would that still be the case now?
Wei Ying from the messages every so often that he’d sent, was working on a new and horrendous multi-classed character, and seemed to be completely unaware of whatever inner turmoil Jiang Cheng was experiencing. When pressed, he did reveal that Jiang Cheng had reached out to him briefly, if only to offer to work together on the latest school assignments, despite Wei Ying having finished every last project.
Huaisang knew he was oblivious to anything having changed, or if so, had most likely chalked it up to Huaisang’s (very questionable) DM skills, but he’d never been able to understand how someone so quick on the uptake was so bad at reading Jiang Cheng’s underlying motives.
Then again, it wasn’t as if Wei Ying could have had any context for something as remotely bizarre as this situation.
He still needed to see Jiang Cheng, if only to make sure he was right. If Jiang Cheng was alright, because obviously that was more important than… Affirmation? He just needed someone on his side, if only because…
Wen Qing had come to drop them off this time, at Wen Ning’s insistence. The car ride, while short, had been mildly tense, Wen Qing barely allowing herself to speak. She clearly hadn’t been happy about the decisions that both Huaisang and Wen Ning had taken, opting to purse her lips when Huaisang broached the subject of reincarnation.
“I thought it wasn’t a good idea, really,” she said simply, eyes ahead on the road. “It dredges up too much of the past. I mean, we have lives in the here and now, remembering doesn’t change a thing.”
Wen Ning opened his mouth to argue, but sighed. “I know I can’t change your mind, Jie-jie, I just think people have the right to know if it’s accessible to them. Shouldn’t it be their decision to deal with whatever the memories bring up?”
Huaisang nodded fiercely. And shrunk back, when Wen Qing shot him a stern glare through the rearview mirror.
Wen Ning, however, didn’t back down. “ Jie-jie.” She pulled up to the Lans’ house, let the car idle for a bit. “I know you have problems with Huaisang’s game but trust me when I tell you it’s the best way to break it to the rest of them.” He had to admit that Wen Ning’s puppy dog eyes worked wonders on his sister, because she softened almost immediately.
“I think,” she started, “that it’s still traumatizing.” She turned to fix Huaisang with the kind of disappointed stare he often found himself receiving from Da-ge when he hadn’t finished his math homework in favor of video games till about 3 am. “Give your friends time to adjust to what they’re dealing with remembering, okay?” She paused, a conflicted expression crossing her face. “I will admit that it was easier to deal with, once I found out that the nightmares I was having were real, and that the similarities to life weren’t my brain putting people I knew into dreams because I’d seen them before, but it’s still difficult, okay?”
Huaisang nodded again. “Will do, Qing-jie,” he said, dodging her faux-annoyed swipe at his head for the comment.
Jiang Cheng, for his part, was generally okay, though he kept shooting Huaisang and Wen Ning looks throughout the discussion Lan Qiren forced them to go through. Lan Zhan had to tap Wei Ying on the shoulder to remind him to pay attention to everything less than usual, and even Lan Qiren had to end their review class early, claiming that he had a meeting for his real job.
“I was hoping we could start session today on a lighter note,” said Huaisang, looking at Wei Ying’s expectant face. “I mean,” he coughed suddenly , “Seeing as last session’s events were…” He looked at Jiang Cheng’s impassive face. “Unfortunate.”
“Beach episode time?” asked Wei Ying. “Character development when we’re all on the run is always nice.”
Lan Zhan nodded. “I would prefer a lighter session, despite the manhunt going on.”
“Okay!” Huaisang paused, then ducked into his DM screen. For once, he’d had an actual note taped up for session. “So, now that you and your runaway disciples are on the boats out of Lotus Pier, you stop to head towards Qinghe, where it is rumored that Chiefeng-zun is gathering everyone up for outright war against the Wen Clan.”
Jiang Cheng clenched his fist dramatically. “I’m not going to let them get away with what they’ve done to my family.” If anyone noticed the way he’d leaned protectively close to Wei Ying, they didn’t comment on it.
“But, on the way there, you have to stop to rest and refuel. Wei Ying, remember that Flower Spirit you waxed poetic about a couple sessions ago? Turns out that the village here was where the legend originated… ”
Watching Lan Zhan physically retract into himself as Wei Ying rambled about the chance to flirt with a supernatural being was an occurrence, to be sure. It was still unexpectedly sweet when he turned back to Lan Zhan and grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry! Ah Lan Zhan, what would I do without you by my side?”
Jiang Cheng glowered. “I’d be there too, you know.”
Wei Ying laughed and ruffled his hair. “Of course, of course! No measly flower spirit will separate us so easily.”
Jiang Cheng wasn’t so easily mollified, but he and Lan Zhan almost shared a look of deep understanding, before Jiang Cheng stared a hole into the table. “Right. We still don’t know why this dumb flower spirit pelts people with flowers if they recite bad poetry, maybe they have poison in them..?”
Jin Zixuan nodded slowly. “You said they lose unconsciousness when the vines come out, and that they find themselves outside of the garden shortly afterwards. Did the flower spirit do something to them?”
Huaisang winced. “Stop making it out to be so bad, it’s just poetry…” He didn’t remember the legend himself being that nefarious.
Wei Ying simply laughed again. “Well, whatever it is, we can deal with it together! I wonder if I can get her to show her face…”
There was, of course, a miniature battle, as no session was complete without a minute amount of combat, though Huaisang would have to hide behind the DM screen every time they made fun of his references to her ‘copious amounts of vines.’
“I don’t think I’ve seen your fan out so much in a single session,” said Wei Ying slyly, after it was over.
He fanned his face, made it go distant. “Oh no, how will I ever survive these incredibly thick, girthy vines?” he sighed, sending Wei Ying into peals of delighted laughter.
Lan Zhan shook his head, but there was an almost shy smirk on his face.
“Want to go continue figuring out that piece you wanted me to duet with you?” asked Wei Ying, all of a sudden. “I brought my flute this time.”
“That would be nice,” said Lan Zhan quietly.
“Since we have some extra time right now,” said Huaisang, “Lan Zhan, would it be okay if we took over your dining table for another hour to have a discussion?”
He nodded. “It would be nice to hang out. Let me get my guqin from my room.”
“See you in an hour,” said Jiang Cheng, rolling his eyes at Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s retreating backs.
Wen Ning sighed. “You don’t need to snipe at them for something they might not have figured out yet.”
He spread his palms out wide. “What? It’s true, Wei Ying gets them both distracted and fixed onto something else for a while, so fifteen minutes turn into like fifty.”
Huaisang shrugged. “It’ll probably be unrelated to the campaign, and Lan Zhan’s too attached to his character, so Wei Ying won’t walk in with another one halfway through. As long as he’s not changing things up, we’re fine, right?”
“You know, “said Jin Zixuan. “I thought I wasn’t getting too attached to this campaign like the rest of you, but I’ve been getting the weirdest dreams about it.” He paused, taking in everyone else’s expressions. “What?”
Jiang Cheng let his head sink back onto the table. “God, it feels so weird remembering you as a brother-in-law.”
“Hey-” he started, then sagged into the chair. “Oh god, this is so weird.” He massaged his brows with a hand, leaning back. “Did I die early too? I don’t like any of this.”
Huaisang sighed, and let his shoulders slump. If this were completely light-hearted, he’d have dramatically sobbed at his friends and cajoled them into acting normally by making a bigger deal of it than it had any right to be. But he was the cause of this, the sole perpetrator.
He needed to deal with this himself. “Actually,” he said. “I might have been using this campaign to see if anyone else remembered our past lives, because no one else seemed to, when we met.”
“That explains so much actually,” said Jin Zixuan finally. “I thought my dreams were just crazy specific, and that I was constructing an elaborate narrative based on your campaign that was a lot darker than what was going on.”
“What clued me in was the emotion,” said Wen Ning finally. “It was like, you could feel what was going on so keenly, it was like these people actually mattered, were your family, and that you had to..” He stopped, a pensive expression on his face. “I’m sorry if you’ve had any nightmares because of me, Zixuan.”
“No, no,” he said, waving it off. “Truth be told, I don’t think I got anything going on around me in those last few months.” He smiled dreamily. “Jin Ling….”
Jiang Cheng gagged. “If you’re thinking about my sister, stop now.”
Wen Ning looked reassured. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for any part I might have played in your….death.”
“Well,” he said. “There is one thing.” His expression was curious and hopeful. “Did Jin Ling turn out well? My memories about the end are a little fuzzy but I hope he grew up safe and loved.”
“Oh yes,” said Huaisang. “He turned out to be a good sect leader, despite how early he ascended to the position.”
Jiang Cheng shook his head behind Jin Zixuan, but it was too late. “What do you mean?” he asked. “My understanding was that A-Li or A-Yao would have taken care of everything until he was ready?”
The bitterness on his face must have shown, so Wen Ning did his best to explain. “Jiang Yanli died soon after you did, when Wei Wuxian had come to the joint sect meeting planning how best to take him out for killing you. From what I heard after I was freed, Jin Guangyao was responsible for a bunch of schemes to keep the Jin sect in power. “
It was hard seeing the revulsion and horror set in after Wen Ning described the kind of things that had occurred after his untimely death. “I see. It was good that he changed some things for the better, but … “ He looked sickened. “What kind of ambition could justify all of this… cost?”
Huaisang couldn’t stop himself from letting out a bitter snort. “The kind that believes you need unquestionable control over everyone to make sure you’re remembered for eternity as a benevolent and kind figure. Jin Guangyao had been spit on all his life by the kind of shoddy ass that made up your entire sect. Is it really any surprise he turned out the way he did?”
His brows furrowed, Jin Zixuan could only shake his head. “I’m sorry, I’m going to need some time to wrap my head all around this.“
“Join the club, said Jiang Cheng from where he was slouched. “I think this whole business should have a better explanation than us just happening to remember. ”
He fixed Huaisang with a look. “If I remember the whole business that led to this in the first place, it was your brother’s inability to reincarnate that led you to focus on research on the afterlife, wasn’t it?”
Huaisang felt a bluster coming on. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that, really, you know how even cultivators can get taken in so easily by scam artists.”
“Right,” said Jiang Cheng sarcastically. “The Headshaker and his army of suddenly incompetent saber swingers were just so helplessly taken in by my brother, who wasn’t at all commissioned to do something incredibly suspicious by the guy who’d been claiming that he was too incompetent to try and gain power all along.”
Huaisang flushed.
Jiang Cheng wasn’t done. “I saw you smuggle in a thousand porn books when we were studying at the Cloud Recesses! You and my brother would always hatch some sort of hare brained scheme to cheat your way out of being forced to do anything you didn’t want to.” He took a big breath, rearing himself. “Did you forget I was also at the Guanyin Temple? I know you faked Jin Guangyao’s sword strike, and baited Lan Xichen into finishing him off.”
He stuttered out some sort of reply, but he couldn’t hear himself over the sudden roar in his ears.
“Since I remembered, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way you look at Meng Yao. He hasn’t done anything to you at all,” said Jiang Cheng. “Even I can accept that this is a new life. Have you done the same?”
Huaisang flicked out his fan and brought it to his face, casting his eyes downward. His voice felt hollow, but he pushed through all the same. “I wouldn’t know about that, Jiang Cheng. Clearly it’s affected all of us, and I think you would be well within your rights to do what you will with this extra time you’ve found with your loved ones.” His voice was harder than he meant it to be, but it was having the right effect. “You can think of this as a second chance to reconnect with your siblings, if you want. Don’t forget that I would want to protect my brother from any undue harm either.”
Wen Ning opened his mouth to speak, but shut it.
Jin Zixuan looked between them as though he was watching a tennis match with knives for balls, wincing as though they’d torn up perfectly good rackets. “You know, Meng Yao is actually…” He winced again. “He’s alright? I think you might be making a big deal of…”
Huaisang couldn’t stand it. “I hate him. I wish he never befriended my Da-ge, because it means I have to deal with his murderer taking us out to eat, or tutoring me, and every time I see his stupid face I have to remember because no one else seems to!”
Jiang Cheng could only watch him cry in frustration, and Wen Ning buried his face into his hands.
He turned. There had to be a reason they weren’t really speaking. Meng Yao stood in the doorway, face white as a sheet.
“I…” he started.
They had to take a quick exit. Huaisang hadn’t realized that Meng Yao had offered to pick him up for Da-ge, or that Da-ge had been planning to surprise them with another visit before school let out for the summer.
“I thought I could sit in on your campaign, so I came early,” he said by way of explanation. “I didn’t realize you…”
They were both mostly silent, and Huaisang wanted to explain, but he was tired and bitter. “Where are we going?” he asked after a bit. “This isn’t the exit we take for my house.”
“Milkshakes,” said Meng Yao tersely. “I think it’s best we…Had a conversation about this.” He didn’t say anything else, and the low buzz of the road soon lulled Huaisang into an almost comfortable, if irritated silence. Meng Yao only interrupted it to call into the place, perfectly pleasant in his pick-up order, Huaisang’s milkshake done perfectly to his tastes.
He parked, letting Huaisang startle himself out of his drowsiness, and came back with two foam cups and a side of fries.
Huaisang didn’t say anything at all, refusing to pick up his drink.
”Look,” started Meng Yao. “I know this isn’t the most ideal situation for you, either, but you have to understand that I didn’t set out to befriend someone I’d…” He winced, but pointedly took a sip of his own drink. “I know you know that I’m not out to harm you or anyone else.” He gestured to the car. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
He nodded, if reluctantly. “... How much do you remember?” he asked slowly.
Meng Yao cast his gaze down. “As much as you do, I think.” He took a sip of his milkshake, visibly swallowing. “I thought that the fact that you let me keep staying around you both meant that…”
Huaisang wanted to say that he didn’t want Meng Yao over and around him anymore. That he couldn’t forgive his brother’s close friend for his crimes, but… He remembered the way they all were, the haunted look in Wen Qing’s eyes, the anger in Jiang Cheng’s, the firm and hollow resignation in Wen Ning’s. How much of Wei Wuxian as he was had been formed from sheer necessity.
“Not everyone could be as righteous as Da-ge, back then,” he whispered, tears dripping down his nose despite himself. “We were all some form of brutal or deceitful. I just couldn’t forgive you because you struck the one person that I couldn’t allow anything to happen to.”
Meng Yao was silent, for a little while, but he closed his eyes. “Huh,” he said, disbelievingly. “I didn’t expect that from you, but I guess I’ve never known what to think about you anyway.”
They both were silent, watching it rain on the glass of Meng Yao’s battered old car.
Finally, Meng Yao spoke once more. “So… your game. Was it just an excuse to probe everyone for information, or was it genuinely cathartic?”
Huaisang let his gaze drop to the milkshake, chose to take a slow sip to gather his thoughts. “At first.. It really was just a way to get everyone to remember what their old lives were like. I just wanted to know that I wasn’t hallucinating everything.” His fingers curled delicately around the straw. “Then, I guess I just…” He avoided Meng Yao’s gaze. “I might have wanted a second opinion about… this, I guess.”
Meng Yao sighed at him, pinching his nose the way he remembered the older version used to, untainted by gold robes or a vermilion mark on the forehead. “Look, Huaisang. I know you might have wanted to… put me through some sort of trial by forcing others to remember my crimes, but don’t you think that was incredibly selfish of you?”
He looked off to the street, milkshake in hand, watching the way the rain glimmered on the sidewalk. “Our pasts were messy, traumatic, and filled with mistakes we would definitely be better off forgetting.” His tone was pleading. “Isn’t this a new life? Isn’t this another chance free of the social trappings that kept us all at each other’s throats?”
Oh. “Your life must have changed the most out of anyone’s here,” Huaisang blurted out, shocked. “Your mom doesn’t have that… I mean, there’s really nothing preventing you from whatever you want to do, here.”
“Glad you noticed,” said Meng Yao wryly. “It wasn’t easy getting into my school, but education is the real equalizer, in this day and age.”
“So…”
“So even if I suddenly had murderous ambitions,” said Meng Yao, “Why would Da-ge be anywhere near the list?” It was a bit of a shock hearing the familiar title come from Meng Yao’s mouth, but.. The awkward, happy tilt to his mouth and the fond tone reminded him quite suddenly of Jin Zixuan.
Meng Yao had changed a lot from who he had been, had grown in ways that gave him a genuine and heartfelt companionship with the people around him. Maybe Huaisang needed to forgive him for the crimes he’d already paid for, a lifetime ago.
“I’m sorry,” said Huaisang. “I’ll…” His throat closed up, but the words had to be said. “I’ll give you a chance this time, San-ge.”
They sat in a more familiar silence, watching droplets of rain merge and divide on the windscreen. Huaisang flicked the tassel underneath the rearview mirror, a perfect match for the one tied to the fan he stored with his DM screen.