Chapter Text
The newest ascended heavenly official takes one look at the glittering court, the pristine surroundings, the pretentious gods, and rejects.
He barely lingers for five minutes, bright and brilliant, his ascension powerful enough to ruin buildings and destroy entire streets. He draws everyone's attention; clad in deep black and red, his countenance both handsome and lively.
Eyes the color of moonlight scan the heavenly court once before fluttering close. There is a pulse of power and in full view of an entire upper court, a God defies his fate and chooses to be a Ghost.
Xie Lian hides an awkward laugh behind a cough as Feng Xin recites the tale, his expression a strange mix of indignation and embarrassment.
The Heavenly Court has lost far too many powerful figures to rest easy when a new god rejects them. With both the Rain Master and Xie Lian himself choosing to live away, they're in desperate need of help and they can't afford for this to become a trend.
There's nothing to be done about the new Supreme among them but Xie Lian can't deny that he's curious.
"Do you know him, San Lang?" He asks as they settle down for the night, "For someone to reject ascension…"
San Lang pulls him closer, his cold nose pressed against Xie Lian's temple, breathing him in, "Is it really surprising?" He asks, "Even now?" The previous Heavenly Emperor had been the root of great suffering. The previous Heavenly Court had been built from the crushed remains of ascended beings.
Is it really a surprise that someone would be unwilling to accept such a gift?
Xie Lian mulls over it for a moment and nods, "Yes, I suppose it still is. Mortal cultivators don't know much about what happened. They were too concerned with their own war. I am curious about it. What sort of person would reject ascension?"
"A righteous one, like gege," San Lang replies calmly, shifting to pull Xie Lian on top of him and Xie Lian buries his warm face against a pale, elegant neck, still moved to shyness by simple physical intimacy, "I know him, of course. It doesn't surprise me that he ascended or that rejected his destiny."
Xie Lian props a chin on his husband's chest and studies him. There's an intrigued light in San Lang's eye that heightens his curiosity even more. Whoever this person is, San Lang likes him. That is enough for him to win Xie Lian's approbation as well.
"Would you like to meet him, gege?" San Lang asks, his lips quirked, "He wouldn't mind guests."
"That's unusual," Xie Lian observes. Supremes rarely cross paths or enter each other's domains. The way San Lang speaks of this ghost, it almost sounds like they are friends.
"Does he have a name?"
"Black Flute Subdues Graves - Wei Wuxian."
"Wei Wuxian?"
San Lang smiles, "This one is young."
Xie Lian frowns, "How young?"
"Barely over twenty years old, gege."
Xie Lian leans up, bracing himself on San Lang's chest and frowning down at him, "Twenty years as a ghost?" He asks hopefully.
San Lang's lips twist wryly. As always, his husband reads and understands his worry easily, "Sorry, your highness, but no. He is barely over twenty, his years as a mortal and ghost combined."
Xie Lian frowns, sinking back into San Lang's arms, a little concerned. For a soul so young to be… so jaded, he doesn't know what to think.
Now he feels like he must meet this man.
--
"Subdues Graves," Xie Lian repeats as he looks up at the ancient mass grave. He has seen it before, a while back when it was seething with resentment and full of ghosts that had long since lost their identities.
Now, it feels different. More… ordered and civilized than before.
As they walk towards Luanzang Gang, they pass a half-complete statue; its design indicating that it is built to subdue evil. Xie Lian can already tell it will be ineffective. The ancient battlefield has a master and no mortal can hope to influence a Supreme's territory.
San Lang is silent as he leads Xie Lian past the barrier that clearly separates mortal planes from the ghostly domain.
The change is stark. Xie Lian sucks in a careful breath as blackened soil and graveyard silence gives way to something entirely different. San Lang's Ghost City is an assault to the senses, richly adorned buildings, the hustle and bustle of a thriving town filling the air.
Mass Grave Hill looks more like the Rain Master's realm than anything else. All he can see are fields full of strange crops, their colors ranging from blue and gray to purple and black. There are farms and small black cottages as far as the eye can see. Corpses roam the fields on mountain slopes, going about their day like ordinary peasants.
The wind blows, clean and lightly fragrant, carrying a dancing melody of a flute in it.
"Black Flute," He says under his breath, scanning the oddly beautiful scene before him. The music carries power. Xie Lian can feel it against his skin, compelling, seductive, eerie. It is continuously subduing the corpses and vengeful spirits of this land and Xie Lian can immediately appreciate the strength it implies.
Many would consider the atmosphere rather ominous but Xie Lian feels a strange sense of joyful peace. This isn’t a home of a malicious spirit, oppressive and dangerous. It is the domain of someone with simple wants, “This Black Flute,” He asks San Lang softly, “Will he welcome us?”
San Lang glances about carelessly, “If he didn’t, those corpses wouldn’t be peacefully plowing the fields, gege.” He assures and guides him towards a distant hill. The walk is long and leisurely. Xie Lian takes the time to observe his strange surroundings. He can see a gathering of ghosts at the end of a field. Their misshapen bodies are the only indication of their status. They seem to be drinking around a roaring purple fire, unbothered by their presence. There’s a beast that he only vaguely recognizes cooking above the flames, the aroma unpleasant but not nauseating.
What an odd sort of paradise.
It takes them a quarter shichen to reach their destination. It is a large overlook that provides a clear sight of the Luanzang Gang, an excellent vantage point if one wants to survey a battlefield. There’s a man on top of it, holding a court with a number of giggling ghost ladies, pale and beautiful even in death. The ladies glance at them, hiding their faces behind their sleeves like shy maidens, leaning towards the man like they wish to seek his protection.
“Hua Chengzu is here, my lord!” One of them alerts the player like he hasn’t deliberately let Xie Lian and San Lang walk into his territory unmolested.
Black Flute pulls his dizi away but the music doesn’t stop. Xie Lian wonders at his cultivation and whether he must use it continuously to contain his domain.
Wei Wuxian turns around without hesitation and Xie Lian is slightly taken aback. With a title like Black Flute Subduing Graves and a home that seethes with resentment, he expected a powerful spirit with a grave countenance. The face before him is youthful and lively, with a pretty smile clinging to the corner of his eyes and lips. His silver eyes are bright with intelligence and humor, drawing Xie Lian in with their beauty. He can already feel a smile tug at his lips in response, his heart softening at the kindness he can sense laying just underneath.
“Aiya, this Wei Ying is honored,” He chimes, his voice just as tuneful as his dizi, “It’s not just Hua Chengzu, but the Crowned Prince Xianle gracing my home today!” The man walks forward and it is telling that San Lang doesn’t even shift to step between him and Xie Lian, “If I had known, I would’ve prepared a proper welcome.”
Xie Lian smiles reassuringly, “Please don’t be troubled on our behalf!” He doesn't know how to say they visited because he was curious and the heavenly officials were panicking, “Your home is very beautiful and being allowed to visit it is welcome enough.”
Wei Wuxian has a pretty smile. He looks every inch a young master from a respectable family. He gestures towards the comfortable-looking seating area by the cliff, now devoid of any ghost, “Please have a seat. I’ll have some tea here shortly.” The young ghost shows no signs of discomfort as San Lang and Xie Lian pass by him to sit. Xie Lian takes a moment to appreciate the stunning view of the unusual landscape. The sky is more red than blue, but it doesn’t seem oppressive, only gentle with the orangish hue of the evening sunset.
“Settling in well, are you?” Surprisingly, it is San Lang that initiates the conversation beyond the usual pleasantries. His husband is scanning Wei Wuxian from head to toe, as if looking for some signs of distress or injury. It prompts Xie Lian to study the new Supreme as well, trying to see if there’s something to be concerned about.
There’s something strangely familiar about Wei Wuxian but Xie Lian can’t place it. He doesn’t feel like a stranger but it doesn’t surprise Xie Lian or make him more curious. He has forgotten most people he has met, after all. It doesn’t seem like Wei Wuxian recognizes him on a personal level so Xie Lian is content to let it be.
“I am!” Wei Wuxian reassures with a wave of his hand, smiling at the ghost girls that bring tea and serve it with the elegance of experienced hostesses. Xie Lian peers at the cups, somewhat relieved to notice the tea doesn’t look as otherworldly as his surroundings, “I just needed to do some cleanup but this place is very comfortable.”
“You subdued centuries-old resentment. It is quite a feat,” Xie Lian says, looking around once again. He can’t draw his eyes away from the strange serenity of the hills and valleys. It feels like a protected place instead of a Calamity’s domain.
The new Supreme’s lips curl into a wry smile, “What is resentment but the pain of the dead? They just need a little bit of empathy.”
“Hm,” San Lang reaches for his cup of tea, his expression amused, “The mortals are building statues around you, trying to curb your influence.” Xie Lian follows his example and sips the tea, curious. San Lang sounds like he is mocking the humans but there’s a protective edge to it too. His husband rarely gets like this with anyone else and it is making Xie Lian feel a stirring of protectiveness too. There’s a story here, certainly.
Wei Wuxian’s smile sharpens just a tad in response, “Well, they can certainly try,” He says airily like there’s something amusing about people trying to subdue him. Xie Lian suddenly knows that this ghost, despite his charming countenance, has teeth. For all the respect he shows to San Lang and him, there’s a sense of equality there. He can find no trace of submission along the lines of Wei Wuxian’s posture, only easy confidence, “Nothing under my protection will ever come to harm again.”
San Lang hums again, tapping the tea sitting before Wei Wuxian pointedly. The young ghost shoots his husband an amused look and picks the tea up, “I am nearly recovered.”
“Are you?” San Lang asks lazily, “Your memories?”
“Half there,” Wei Wuxian waves dismissively, leaning back and propping his cheek on his fist, the flesh squishing adorably. Xie Lian feels strangely fond at the sight of him and glances at his husband, his brows arched.
He wonders if San Lang would let him seek out the answers or tell him outright. He would certainly explain Wei Wuxian’s entire history if Xie Lian asks but he is also tempted to investigate on his own, just for the fun of it.
“But what does it matter?” Wei Wuxian continues after taking a sip of his tea and grimacing, “I am dead and can’t go back to being a mortal. What use do I have for memories of my mortal life?”
Xie Lian leans forward, curious, and undeniably concerned, “You’re missing memories?” That wouldn’t really be a problem if Wei Wuxian had been an old wandering ghost, a small flame among millions. The young Ghost King before him had ascended first and then chosen to reject it. The situation is fairly unprecedented. San Lang has been the only one to reject the Heavens as far as Xie Lian knows but he did it well after his death.
If San Lang is asking the young Ghost King about it, there has to be something there to be concerned about.
Wei Wuxian glances at him with dancing silver eyes, Feng Xin’s description of them being like moonlight startlingly accurate, “Aiya, you’re a bad husband, gege,” The mischievous sprite teases, “Now His Highness looks worried for this little ghost.” San Lang shrugs, unbothered. If San Lang didn’t want to trouble him, his husband wouldn’t have questioned Wei Wuxian in front of him. Obliviously, his own Ghost King considers this bit of information important and wants Xie Lian to keep it in mind.
But there’s a flash of red in those silver eyes and Xie Lian thinks it wouldn’t do to press the new ghost before them any further. San Lang may have the liberty to question him but Xie Lian has just met the man. He doesn’t want to make any friend of his husband uncomfortable. He quickly scans his mind to find a suitable topic to change the subject.
“There’s a human city quite close to your domain,” He muses, drawing Wei Wuxian and San Lang’s attention immediately, “Doesn’t that cause problems?”
San Lang arches a brow and purses his lips for a bit but he doesn’t attempt to question Wei Wuxian further. Black Flute’s lips quirk and he shrugs helplessly before answering Xie Lian, “The people of Yiling have lived in the shadow of Luanzang Gang for centuries now. They know how to be cautious. A few children and brave souls do stray far too close but I have them escorted back to their city quickly.” He wants to ask why Wei Wuxian chose the ancient battlefield in particular to be his domain but that question feels somehow weighty.
Perhaps he will ask later, when Wei Wuxian is more than just his husband’s friend to him.
–
“Thank you!” Xie Lian smiles as he takes the steaming hot baozi from the vendor, glancing around curiously. It is rare for a thriving city to be so close to a place like Luanzang Gang. The citizens of Yiling seem unbothered and unburdened. Some of the structures look quite old, which means the city itself has been around for a while, even before the Black Flute arrived to tame the ancient battlefield.
Just as Wei Wuxian had said.
San Lang is leaning against a wall, watching the humans roam about impassively, his expression bland as milk. Xie Lian is tempted to push him back towards Luanzang Gang and make him have that private conversation with Wei Wuxian but he refrains. Instead, he walks up to his husband and hands him a bun with a soft smile, letting his fingers linger on San Lang’s palm. “Is it really that urgent?” He asks.
San Lang shrugs, “Not really,” He replies, “His situation is… different. Him dying doesn’t mean that the chains tying him to his human life have dissolved. If he forgets important details, he will let his guard down.”
Xie Lian narrows his eyes, “And why is that a concern?”
“Modao,” He says, “Or more specifically, guidao.”
“Ghostly path?”
“The Yiling Laozu successfully cultivated the Ghostly Path, harnessing the resentment of the dead and using empathy to utilize it. During wartime, he was able to raise an entire army of corpses to defeat his enemy.” San Lang smiles sharply, “He took no students, left behind few notes, and carried the entirety of his cultivation method to his grave.”
“Ah,” Xie Lian purses his lips, the implications of it sinking in. As always, people covet power, and if Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is the ghost path…
“Ah.”
San Lang nods, confirming his fears, “I don’t know how far-reaching his powers are,” His husband says, his voice low, “But if he has only half his memories, he can’t make informed decisions.” He dips his head, “He presides over an ancient battlefield full of ghosts, corpses, and death, gege.”
Xie Lian bites his lip, his mind quickly calculating all of the risks involved. If, as a human, Wei Wuxian had been able to influence the dead to act on his behalf instead of simply banishing them, his power as a Ghost King would certainly draw attention from all quarters.
“So that’s why you have introduced me to him,” Xie Lian concludes, glancing up at his smiling husband.
“The most powerful God,” San Lang points at Xie Lian, “and the most powerful Ghost King,” He points at himself, “Who better to safeguard and guide this fledgling calamity? Before anyone else gets their careless hands on him?”
Xie Lian doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he bites into his baozi. He thought they were done with insane adventures, but apparently not.
“Alright, San Lang,” He sighs, his lips twitching when his husband leans forward and rests his chin on his shoulder, his face guileless, “We’ll help your friend.”
San Lang smiles, pressing a discreet kiss to his shoulder, “Thank you, gege.”