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“Didi! Hey, Didi!! Come play some songs for these nice sisters and aunties with me!”
Shen Jiu pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. One would think he would be used to such exuberant requests after months of it whenever he and his companion passed through a new village or town. From the moment it was evident that Wei Wuxian came from literally a different world than Shen Jiu’s, the man was eager to meet as many people and explore as many places as he could. It was almost disgusting how charming yet sincere he was, and therefore how easily he made friends and acquaintances.
But Shen Jiu knew, as much of a goof as he may seem, Wei Wuxian was far from an imbecile as one could be. He chatted with market vendors and restaurant owners—all common folk—as if they were his neighbors and came away with a fairly accurate assessment of the immortal and demonic realms. Although he carried no weapon, he was an accomplished swordsman using just a stick to competently instruct Shen Jiu on sword forms. He drew up a never ending stream of standard talismans with little effort and modified them with a stroke of ink here and there for the common person’s use, which they sold for some decent money. Enough money for Wei Wuxian to buy Shen Jiu an average guqin to “practice musical cultivation.”
If Shen Jiu doubted Wei Wuxian’s otherworldly origins at the start, then watching the man successfully night hunt with only talismans and music made a great case for it. Shen Jiu was a master of the guqin years before his death but his companion revealed that there was still much the world itself didn’t know.
Thus began an evening routine of Wei Wuxian playing cultivation songs with his dizi and Shen Jiu repeating on the guqin. He was also instructed on how to infuse his music with his spiritual energy. It was miraculous how quickly his cultivation increased and his core strengthened. Shen Jiu had been in such awe that he recently stopped spitting fire at Wei Wuxian for tricking him into playing normal folk songs with him by pretending they were cultivation lessons.
Now Wei Wuxian tries to rope Shen Jiu into playing duets with him every chance he gets. Shen Jiu gives in with a glare every time, definitely not because Wei Wuxian will get a faraway melancholic look on his face by the end of their songs. It’s because the annoying man spent night and day pestering Shen Jiu to play with him so he better not immediately be thinking of duetting with someone else!
“Come on, Didi! No need to be a rotten loquat in front of the beautiful ladies!”
And so, Shen Jiu resigns himself to playing songs for some random village women he will surely never even see again.
“What do you know about the Immortal Alliance Conference?”
Shen Jiu glanced at Wei Wuxian who traveled beside him on a donkey they bought a week ago, aptly named Carrot for how it kept stealing said vegetable from market stalls that they then had to pay for with coin and apologies.
“It’s a triennial gathering of cultivation sects where disciples compete to prove their merit or their incompetence and masters sit back to watch and sing themselves praises for their supposed unmatched tutelage.”
“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raised a brow. Hearing strong opinions from his little brother was not uncommon but it was rare to have them so wordy. “Have you participated before?”
“You could say that.”
“Then, do you want to attend the next one? I hear it’ll be hosted by the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect in one month.”
Curiously, Shen Jiu only responded with silence this time. Glancing over, the teen had a blank look that Wei Wuxian began to understand meant that he was recalling some unpleasant moments of his mysterious past. He wisely decided to steer the topic away.
“I get a strange feeling whenever I come across the names of certain sects or places. Like I’ve heard them somewhere before. But none of them existed in my own world so how can that be? Huan Hua Palace sure reminds me of the Jin Sect back home though. They’re all glitz and glamor and gold but I bet the real purpose of it is to hide the lack of basic morals. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I once studied at a mountain sect that had far too many rules, as if morality could be manifested by words carved on rock. That Cang Qiong Mountain I mentioned seems like it might be pleasant in comparison—”
“There’s nothing there for me.”
Wei Wuxian let his rant die out. Some days it was much easier to distract Shen Jiu from his past. But Wei Wuxian knew that some days, the past needed to resurface for a little while before it could be pushed back within the confines of one’s mind. It was something he still struggled to do many nights when Shen Jiu was deep asleep and couldn’t serve as a distraction.
“Let’s head far away from that area then.”
Shen Jiu looked at him in question.
“The four biggest sects are headed to the Conference with their best disciples. That means night hunts will be at an all-time low. Rogue cultivators who aren’t participating will likely be picking up the slack, including us. Besides,” Wei Wuxian let his eyes glint red, “I wanted to show you something. This will be the best time to do it.”
As expected, Shen Jiu didn’t miss a thing. He was certainly bright for his age. “So you’re a demon.”
Wei Wuxian laughed. “That’s what people in my world used to say. But no. I’m as human as can be. Like I said, I’ll show you when we’re far, far away from the great righteous immortals. Sounds good?”
The teen seemed to hesitate for a bit, but ultimately gave a “Mn,” and kept walking.
Wei Wuxian couldn’t hold in a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Shen Jiu decided to leave or worse, attack him for being so suspicious. He wouldn’t be surprised at least. After all, one brother already left him to his fate.
For now, he’ll stay on his donkey and travel beside the one who still accepts him.
For now.
...
“We must be near the border of the southern demon plains by now. And you still say you’re not a demon?”
“A-Jiu!” Wei Wuxian whined. He saluted with three fingers to his head. “For the sixth time, I swear I possess no demon blood in me. Well, unless you have something to tell me about the blood we share.”
Shen Jiu rolled his eyes.
“I don’t actually have much experience with demons. I dealt more with dead humans and creatures. Observe.” With that, Wei Wuxian lifted Chenqing to his lips and began to play an eerie melody.
Shen Jiu felt a change in the air, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He looked around, trying to catch the shift. After another verse however, a specter slowly appeared before the man. Shen Jiu stood silently as a few more figures joined the first, until even a walking corpse crawled out of the forest and obediently lined itself up!
“Summoning ghosts and corpses. Moving them to your will. All by the sound of your song. This must be some type of demonic power, regardless of what you say,” Shen Jiu concluded.
Cutting off the music, Wei Wuxian lowered his flute and twirled it around. “It was called demonic cultivation once, yes. However it’s more accurate to call it ghostly cultivation. Spiritual energy is the energy that orthodox cultivators gather within themselves and manipulate to accomplish feats that regular mortals cannot. Resentful energy produced by the dead is also energy. When I was your age I once asked, why don’t we learn to harness that energy as well to use against the dangerous beings that caused the resentment in the first place? After all, it’s a lot of work to liberate the spirits of the dead and disperse the residual energy. Why not utilize it instead of expending our own energy?”
The explanation he gave made sense and Shen Jiu took time to truly consider it. “If I hadn’t seen the plain success of it just now, I would say it’s all just words of a lunatic. You’ve been using resentful energy on all our night hunts?”
Wei Wuxian hummed the affirmative.
“Do you ever use spiritual energy? How do you maintain the balance of energies in your body without repercussions?”
Offering up his wrist, Wei Wuxian said plainly, “I don’t have spiritual energy.”
“What?” Shen Jiu snatched up the wrist and examined the man’s meridians. It was empty. “How is that possible? Every human being possesses at least some measure of spiritual energy, even if it lies dormant all their lives. How are you still alive?”
“Sheer force of will,” Wei Wuxian quipped. A pause. “And continuous circulation of resentful energy through my meridians.”
“That’s insane.”
“I call it resourceful.”
Shen Jiu shoved Wei Wuxian’s wrist away in mock disgust. The man just laughed.
“Speaking of, I brought us all the way to the demon realm border because I thought there would be plenty of resentful energy in the area to work with. I wasn’t wrong but,” he threw his hand out and whistled, and a swirl of red light gathered before him, “this resentment doesn’t feel completely human. Turns out that man who called it demonic cultivation was onto something.” Wei Wuxian swept his arm in a great arc and the energy shot away like arrows into the distance until one stopped suddenly in midair.
The space around it shimmered and a figure faded into view. It was a common low-level demon, the anthropomorphic type that knew human speech. It staggered to its knees, clutching at the fresh wound at its chest but its hands passing through the red energy that was stuck there.
“Why,” it croaked. “I didn’t do anything to you.”
In a rare moment, Wei Wuxian’s gaze was cold. “But you did plenty to the children you lured here before leaving their bodies to rot.” His eyes turned the same red as the resentment he wielded. He tilted his head as if listening to someone speak over his shoulder. “Human and demon children. You sure didn’t discriminate.” He sneered. “Despicable.”
With that, he held his hand out again and closed it into a fist. The energy that was stuck to the demon burrowed instantly into its body before exploding outwards, causing blood to rush out of the qiqiao, the head’s seven orifices.
Shen Jiu observed all of this unmoved.
There were many types of people in the world. He wouldn’t say Wei Wuxian was one of a kind, but he was certainly a rare one.
He watched as the man’s furious red eyes faded back to a happy moon-like silver.
Just as rare as a particular little beast he used to know.
...
Wei Wuxian tapped on the spines of each book as he perused the titles. “At first glance, one wouldn’t take you for a scholarly type, A-Jiu. But as a fellow ex-street kid, I understand the hunger for knowledge.”
Shen Jiu ignored the other’s absentminded rambling as he focused on finding a specific text. Though Shen Jiu possessed great knowledge of demons from his time as a Peak Lord, it was best to refer to a solid accurate source. The book shop they were currently in resided in one of the closest human cities to the demon realm. Without access to Qing Jing’s extensive library, Shen Jiu had to keep a look out for valuable texts.
After skimming past a few stacks, a title caught his eye. He slipped the book out from the bottom of a pile. He felt Wei Wuxian looming over his shoulder to look as well.
“Mo Dao Zu Shi…The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation,” Shen Jiu read. “I was hoping to find something to help you research demonic energies. How fortuitous that the exact book falls into our hands—hey!” He protested as Wei Wuxian snatched said book quite violently out of his hands. The man didn’t seem to notice as he flipped through the pages, a crazed look in his eyes.
“What is wrong with you? Have you seen this text before?”
He was once again ignored as Wei Wuxian got to the end of the book and rushed over to the front counter of the shop where the bookkeeper stood.
“Are there more volumes after this book?” he demanded. Shen Jiu was a little shocked at how rude he was being. Thankfully the old man seemed to take it in stride, as he calmly looked over the cover. Must come with practically having demons as your neighbors.
“This one here? Yeah, I believe there’s a couple more.”
Wei Wuxian sounded desperate as he asked, “Where are they?”
“Unfortunately I only have this first one. The series wasn’t very well-known and the author only had a few copies of each volume made before they died some years ago. Since it never shot up in popularity, no one else bothered to copy them either.”
After paying for the single book and leaving, Shen Jiu noticed that Wei Wuxian’s countenance remained shaken. It continued like that for the rest of the day, with the occasional mutter under the breath to break up the monotony. By the time they finished their dinner and headed to their shared inn room, Shen Jiu’s patience snapped.
“What about that book made you so out of sorts? You’ve been so lost in your head all day that you almost walked into a chicken pen and three market stalls. It’s really pissing me off!!”
For the first time since that morning, Wei Wuxian looked right at the teen he called brother.
“Some days you remind me of him,” was all he said. But he also tossed the mysterious book to Shen Jiu, who caught it deftly with a hand. “Read it. It might answer some questions. It might just cause new ones. I’m going to bed.”
It was oddly early for a man who normally stayed up until the crack of dawn, but Shen Jiu was too preoccupied with the book to pay it any mind. He settled down and began to read.
...
Shen Jiu set the book down. He rubbed at his face with his hands and tried not to yawn as the morning sunlight began to creep through the window.
What a mess.
...
He found Wei Wuxian sitting on the bed trying to meditate. Instead he was staring blankly at Chenqing in his hands.
Shen Jiu (gently) threw the book at his head. Wei Wuxian started.
“What the—what was that for?!”
“Why are you moping around feeling sorry for yourself?”
“I don’t—”
“So what if you died as scum in your world and now it’s somehow written down like some fictional biography? You live in this world now, no need to obsess over a past you can’t get back to.”
Shen Jiu ignored the fact that he himself had somehow done that.
Wei Wuxian shook his head. “No, it’s not quite that simple.” He picked up the book and waved it around, as if Shen Jiu needed reminding that it was the topic of conversation. “This book begins with my—with my death. It talks about my resurrection thirteen years later. But that hasn’t happened to me yet! The very last thing I saw before your old teacher summoned me was Jia—was the siege laid against me and the darkness of death. Don’t you understand? This book could be detailing both my past and my future! This first volume has barely told me anything, I need to find the rest! ”
It was quiet except for Wei Wuxian’s harsh breaths. Shen Jiu looked at that desperation and wondered about how their situations were so different and yet they themselves were so similar. The world, no matter which one it was, truly had no pity.
Instead of responding, he walked over to his pack and pulled his guqin out of one of the qiankun bags. He set it down on the table beside the bed and began to play one of the songs Wei Wuxian taught him. Though he knew spiritual energy did not affect the man, the calming music was pleasant to the ear. After some time, Wei Wuxian’s breathing became almost tranquil and Shen Jiu let the song peter out. He rested his hands on the strings to quiet them.
“Cang Qiong Mountain ranks as the highest cultivation sect,” he began, “in terms of land, strength, discipleship and resources. Qing Jing Peak is known as a scholarly place and holds what is arguably the largest library in the human realm.”
Wei Wuxian turned to look at him but Shen Jiu refused to meet his eyes. “I doubt such a place would let just anyone access their hub of information.”
“They would let their disciples in.”
“What are you saying?”
Not letting a single emotion slip through, Shen Jiu finally looked at Wei Wuxian. “There’s still a week before the Immortal Alliance Conference. If we make it in time, I will participate as a novice rogue cultivator looking to join a sect. If I can catch the eye of any of Cang Qiong’s peak lords then I can make my case to join. Qing Jing Peak would be ideal. I can’t guarantee that the library will have the remaining volumes but the sect itself will certainly have the resources to find them.”
“That’s a lot of hypotheticals we’re working from,” Wei Wuxian said softly. “A-Jiu…you don’t have to go back to a place that will only hurt you—you can’t tell me it won’t,” he added when he saw Shen Jiu about to argue. “I don’t know what happened to make you avoid that sect and I won’t pry, but I want you to really think it through. I’m not going to throw myself off a cliff if I don’t get a hold of those books right away.”
Shen Jiu felt an eye twitch at that nonchalant comment.
Wei Wuxian hopped off the bed and tucked his dizi in his belt. Stretching his arms up, he continued, “We can start heading in the direction of the Conference, but don’t give me an answer until the day after next.” He rifled through his sleeve and pulled out a talisman. “I’ve gathered a lot of human and demonic resentful energy up to this point and it’s more than enough to power this teleportation talisman for two people.”
“Answer me one thing first,” Shen Jiu demanded. “If the books are wrong and you aren’t summoned back to your world thirteen years from now, do you still intend to find a way back?”
Wei Wuxian was quiet for a moment. He then smiled at Shen Jiu. “Yes. And I’ll even take you with me, if you’d like to go.”
And what could Shen Jiu say to that?
...
“Have you ever tried to catch fish with your bare hands before? It takes a lot of patience but it feels quite rewarding in the end!” Not even waiting for a response, Wei Wuxian began to remove his shoes and socks.
“The current is quite calm at the moment but don’t let that fool you. The Luo River is known to be the iciest one in this region at any time of year.”
Wei Wuxian froze from rolling up his pant legs. He slowly straightened up and turned to Shen Jiu. “What did you say?”
Raising an eyebrow at the odd reaction, Shen Jiu clarified, “The Luo River is icy cold right now.”
The other man kept staring at him but his eyes began to lose focus in a way Shen Jiu knew his brain was moving rapidly to figure something out.
“Luo…Binghe.”
It was Shen Jiu’s turn to freeze.
“What?” he hissed.
“Luo Binghe,” Wei Wuxian repeated, his eyes clearing up again.
“How do you know that name?” Shen Jiu demanded.
Wei Wuxian shot right back, “Why is it familiar to you?”
“Answer my question first.”
Relenting, Wei Wuxian did so as he walked over to his pack and pulled out a now very familiar book. “Luo Binghe is a relatively well-known name in my world—for the younger generation of those who could read, that is. He is the hero of a popular novel series about power and revenge that spanned over fifty volumes. The latter half of the series were purely yellow books.”
With a rising cold dread, Shen Jiu couldn’t stop himself from asking hoarsely, “And what was the main story about?”
“Luo Binghe was an orphan, later raised by a poor woman who found him as a child. After an illness took her life he set off to become a cultivator by joining a sect. Cang Qiong Mountain.” Wei Wuxian pointed in the appropriate direction. “His luck was poor as even after joining the sect, he was relentlessly bullied and tormented by his teacher and fellow disciples alike.” He only looked quickly at Shen Jiu before continuing on. Shen Jiu grit his teeth but didn’t say anything.
“After a demon invasion of the sect that was successfully thwarted, Luo Binghe discovered he possessed some demon ancestry by way of a dream demon who began to teach him. Then, at an Immortal Alliance Conference hosted by Huan Hua Palace,” he pointed in the respective direction, “the seal on his demonic powers was completely broken and his bloodline was revealed to his shizun, who pushed him into a nigh inescapable abyss that exists in the plane between the human and demon realms.”
When Wei Wuxian looked at Shen Jiu once more, he locked eyes with him, gaze unreadable. “Do you want me to keep going? Shen QingQiu?”
Clenching his fists, Shen Jiu lowered his head and said, “You’ve made your point quite clear.”
His chest felt tight and his heart was pounding rapidly. It took more effort to breathe, each inhale sounding too loud in his ears and every exhale too quiet.
This was it.
Every wretched piece of Shen Jiu’s history laid bare to the only person who cared for and accepted him since Qi-ge’s abandonment in his previous life. And Wei Wuxian was a righteous man despite his opinion of himself. Compared to Shen Jiu, who was always seen as self-serving and corrupt, Wei Wuxian was a person who followed the path of justice no matter the method he used. It was only a matter of time before he discovered that Shen Jiu was no match for him—was not a good fit to be in his life.
He was ready to get up and walk away of his own accord (he will never be the one abandoned again) but a hand on his head stopped him.
“A-Jiu, I know better than most that the world isn’t created black and white. People don’t grow to be so either.” The hand patted his head once, twice, before smoothing down his hair. “Even if others painted us as villains, that doesn’t make it the absolute truth.”
The hand stopped at his back and pulled Shen Jiu forward. Arms wrapped around him in a hug. “I like to think I know you pretty well now. And I’m sure you were jumping to some conclusions that would have had you running off. But A-Jiu, you don’t need to leave. Because I’m not leaving either.”
Shen Jiu shut his eyes tight. He didn’t hug Wei Wuxian back but simply stood together with him as the rushing river filled their silence.
...
Later that day, after a long talk and cursing at the heavens together, they activated the talisman that would take them to the foot of Cang Qiong Mountain, just in time for the Immortal Alliance Conference.
Luo Binghe stood at the bank of a river, looking with unseeing eyes at the rushing water.
Many years passed since he was reborn into the same life. He was now physically twelve years old and much stronger than he was the first time around. And yet, his arms felt weak and heavy, threatening to drag his soul below the silt.
Barely half a shichen earlier he was burying his mother’s lifeless body once more.
Despite all of his efforts to keep her healthy this time around, the same illness hid beneath the surface and struck just when he thought they were in the clear. What use was all the foreknowledge gained from his previous life if he couldn’t change what mattered?
Clutching at the fake jade hanging from his neck, Luo Binghe wondered if he should forget about entering Cang Qiong Mountain altogether. He could train his skills with experience as a rogue cultivator and work up to breaching the borders of the demon realm. Maybe even jump into the Endless Abyss of his own accord to collect Xin Mo. From there he’ll take back his territories and wives and subordinates one by one until everything was as it used to be—
Ah.
But that would be a waste of a second life, wouldn’t it?
No need to rush the path to power when he can relish the time he can be with Shen Qingqiu instead. He’ll let the man accrue the cost of Luo Binghe’s inevitable retribution on Qing Jing Peak, but not at the boy’s expense this time.
Turning his back to the river, Luo Binghe began the long walk to see his shizun again.
...
A random shiver passed down Shen Qingqiu’s spine.
Wei Wuxian paused from sipping his tea. “Are you cold, A-Jiu? In the middle of summer?”
Shen Qingqiu shook off the feeling and returned to fanning himself with leisure.
“I live on the top of a mountain. It’s bound to get drafty sometimes.”
The other man laughed in delight. “I don’t know why your disciples can’t see how funny you are. You’re hilarious!”
“Hopefully not so hilarious that they continue to treat their poetry assignments as a joke. Truly dreadful, all of it.”
“They’re actually trying their hardest, you know! Aiyah, what a harsh teacher.” Wei Wuxian placed his cup down and rested his head against a hand. “But even so, I can’t imagine you as the scum teacher from that book.”
“That’s because I am not the same as I was back then. Whatever the book said about me, I’m sure it was true.” Shen Qingqiu turned to look out the window of his bamboo house. “Either way, does it matter?”
“Your past doesn’t matter to me, A-Jiu. You know that.” Wei Wuxian was gentle when he continued. “But it matters to you. Because it’s part of what made you who you are now. Don’t hide from it forever.” He then stood up and brushed his robes off.
“Anyway, just think on it. I’ll be gone for a while this time because I plan to scope out some new territories in the demon realm. Your head disciple is a teenager now. I think it’s about time that boy will show up.” Getting no response, Wei Wuxian bounced over to the other man and threw his arm around his shoulders. “Cheer up, Didi, you don’t have to be nice and coddle him. Just be your usual indifferent self!…after making sure he’s being treated fairly.”
Shen Qingqiu scowled. “Don’t call me that. We’ve established that I’m older than you already.”
Grinning, Wei Wuxian responded, “What’s years lived to lives taught? We also agreed that I have more teaching experience as a head disciple than you do as an actual master. So listen well, my little duckling!” His smile turned softer even in the face of his brother’s glare. “Don’t let your pride be misplaced. You are the shizun. Raising your disciples to be the best they can be is a good reflection on you, even if they surpass you. But also, it’s a really great feeling to see something you’ve nurtured spread its wings and thrive.”
At his last sentence, Wei Wuxian made sure to catch Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.
Ah, yes. He had to give the other man credit where it’s due. Wei Wuxian did teach Shen Qingqiu in place of Wu Yanzi for all those years.
And now it was time for Shen Qingqiu to put his growth to the test.
It was just a matter of waiting for the little bea—for Luo Binghe to arrive.