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When Wei Wuxian wakes up, he’s in the Burial Mounds. There’s a lingering sense of wrongness that he can’t shake, but that’s not surprising. It is the Burial Mounds, after all. Everything about it feels wrong. Just smelling it makes you feel dirty.
Wei Wuxian is more concerned that he fell asleep in the first place. Sleep is necessary but dangerous in the Burial Mounds. He usually doesn’t dare doze off for more than half hour periods at a time. The spirits don’t give him a break just because he wants to rest.
So it’s worrying that he can’t remember where he was last night. He’s been slowly crawling his way out of the Burial Mounds, held together by willpower and resentful energy and little else. A part of him feels like he’s already made it out of the Burial Mounds. It’s probably the remnants of whatever dream he just had. They’re almost always nightmares, though to tell the truth there’s little difference between nightmares and reality now. Once in a while, though, he gets a good dream. Those are worse, because they never last.
He sits up slowly, back against a large rock. Chenqing is in his lap, and Wei Wuxian instinctively wraps his fingers around it. It’s his only weapon here in the Burial Mounds, and the spirits know that. He’s not giving them any chance to take it away from him. He’s weak without it. He’s weak with it, to be fair, but he’s strong enough to keep the ghosts away.
Wei Wuxian sets his sights on a peak that seems to be forever away. That’s his goal for today; make it to the top of that peak. With that in mind, he forces himself to start moving.
The ironic part of being thrown in the Burial Mounds is that if he’d fallen from any other cliff, he would’ve died. Instead, he landed in resentful energy so thick he never hit the bottom. For days it ate him from inside out while he screamed, and screamed and screamed and wished he had died, but it never did let him go. Wei Wuxian is being driven by revenge, but a small, buried part of him wonders if there’ll be anything left of him if he does crawl his way out of the Burial Mounds. What’s the point of escaping if he’s just become another demon of the Burial Mounds? Perhaps he ought to just stay here, and save the world the trouble.
Revenge. Right, Wei Ying. That’s just the spirits talking.
Speaking of spirits, an apparition appears in front of Wei Wuxian, and he groans out loud. “Not you again.”
“Wei Wuxian,” says Jiang Cheng, except it’s not Jiang Cheng. “You did this. You’re a disgrace, you’re an abysmal failure. You’re the reason all of them died. It’s your fault. You should just die here.”
Wei Wuxian raises Chenqing threateningly. “Get out, before I make you.”
The spirit that looks like Jiang Cheng only sneers at him. “As if you could. You’re pathetic, Wei Wuxian. You think I’ll ever forgive you for the deaths of my parents? As if. My father should’ve left you to starve with the dogs!”
“I said get lost,” Wei Wuxian snarls, and begins to play Chenqing. His eyes blaze red, and he wrestles for control over the spirit before his willpower wins out, and the spirit is banished.
The exertion makes Wei Wuxian chest heave. He’s never managed to break a sweat in the Burial Mounds, which isn’t particularly cold but has an aura that radiates a lack of warmth. He shivers in his threadbare robes. He’s never cried in the Burial Mounds, which is too bad because he could use another source of water besides toxic rain and toxic puddles.
Wei Wuxian keeps on crawling, but he’s so tired. That’s hardly new–he’s been tired since he fell in the Burial Mounds–but there’s still a pervasive sense of wrongness that he can’t shake. Like he shouldn’t be here. Like he’s already escaped. Only, that’s not surprising. Nobody should be here. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy–literally.
The scenery is one endless gray blur. By the time blood dries, it’s a dark brown. The sky is dark gray, the earth is light gray. Everything else is black, including Wei Wuxian. The red sash of his belt and his red hair ribbon have been so completely covered with black dirt and grease that they, too, look gray.
Wei Wuxian takes a break. For some reason his body doesn’t feel used to this anymore. Like it expects three meals a day, instead of food whenever Wei Wuxian manages to hold his nose long enough to find the nearest, freshest corpse. And not throw it up afterwards. Like it expects a golden core. Jiang Cheng better be putting that to good use, wherever he is.
Speak of the devil.
“Wei Wuxian,” says Jiang Cheng, only it’s not Jiang Cheng, it’s a spirit.
“You again?” Wei Wuxian groans. “So soon? I just got rid of you.”
Jiang Cheng–Spirit Jiang Cheng–frowns and opens his mouth.
“I know, I know,” Wei Wuxian interrupts, before he can hear those poisonous words from Jiang Cheng’s voice again. “I’m a piece of trash that belongs in the Burial Mounds. It’s my fault that Lotus Pier burned and I should just die here like the rest of the demons.”
The spirit blinks at him, then frowns again. “Who do you think you are?”
“Absolutely nobody,” Wei Wuxian chirps. It sounds more like a croak. “Just your friendly, local resident of the Burial Mounds. No claim to the Jiangs whatsoever.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The spirit demands.
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Wei Wuxian answers. He hauls himself to his knees and resumes his trek up this gray slope.
“Why are you on your knees like a dog?” The spirit snaps.
Wei Wuxian freezes in place. He sits back, legs splayed out in front of him, and brings Chenqing up like a shield. “Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t bring up dogs.”
The spirit holds Jiang Cheng’s arms out placatingly and takes a step forward. “Wei Wuxian–”
“Don’t take another step closer,” Wei Wuxian bites out. He raises Chenqing to his lips, despite his shaking arms. “I’m warning you.” He doesn’t want to do it unless it’s necessary, because the Burial Mounds have put him in the habit of conserving his strength as much as possible.
The spirit stills. “I’m here to take you home, Wei Wuxian.”
Wei Wuxian musters up a broken laugh. “Yeah. Right. Lotus Pier. Home. That’s where I’m going.”
The spirit looks at him like he’s the confused one. They do that a lot. Try to confuse Wei Wuxian as to who he is and what he’s doing. “Wait right here,” he instructs, and then turns and runs in the other direction.
“Well,” Wei Wuxian mutters to himself. “So long as it goes.” It’s one of the less convincing spirits he’s seen here.
He continues crawling.
Wei Wuxian can’t tell exactly what part of him is broken, only that he’s cold all over and very, very, tired. He knows intellectually that he broke one of his legs, though, so he doesn’t attempt to stand up.
Don’t leave us, the Burial Mounds whisper. You’re the first person to ever hear us, Wei Wuxian. We want to keep you, keep you, keep you.
“That’s too bad,” Wei Wuxian says out loud. “See, I’ve got a vendetta. People to kill, you know how it is.”
Who is it? Tell us. We will kill them for you, and then you will stay, stay, stay.
“I’d rather not,” Wei Wuxian says.
He can feel the resentful energy swirling around him, trying to make him stop moving. You will stay, the Burial Mounds demand. We will make you. You belong to us. You belong here.
Wei Wuxian grits his teeth and raises Chenqing again. “You don’t control me,” he says. “Other way around.” He begins to play again, a shrieking, desperate tune. The resentful energy claws and buckles under his melody, but doesn’t break. That’s fine. He doesn’t need it to. He just needs it to make way enough for him to make it up this damn hill.
So Wei Wuxian makes his way up the hill just like that; shuffling on his knees, playing the music of the damned and parting the force of the Burial Mounds.
“Wei Wuxian! I told you to wait here!”
“Wei Ying!”
Wei Wuxian’s blood turns to ice. He stops crawling again and sits down. The Jiang Cheng spirit is back, but this time it has company, striding while Spirit Jiang Cheng jogs up the hill after him.
“You brought a buddy this time,” Wei Wuxian sneers. “How nice.”
“See?” The Jiang Cheng spirit says to the other.
“Wei Ying.” The other spirit takes a step forward, eyes wide and worried. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“How nice,” Wei Wuxian repeats dully.
“Wei Ying,” the spirit begins.
“No, no, let me do it,” Wei Wuxian interrupts, a cruel twist to his lips. “You don’t care about me. You always hated me. Your biggest regret is saving me in the Xuanwu cave.” He bestows a vicious, victorious smile on both of them. “Did I miss anything?”
The spirit just stares at him.
“Wei Wuxian, Wei Wuxian,” a voice croons from behind him.
Wuxian turns around to see a third spirit. This one doesn’t take the form of anyone he knows, but rather a vaguely humanoid shaped wreath of shadows.
“A party,” Wei Wuxian jokes, his tone flatter than the Lan discipline paddles.
“You missed something,” the third spirit says, its voice sinister.
Wei Wuxian stretches bloodless lips into a smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”
The third spirit swoops down in front of him, ignoring the restrictive movements humans are bound to. “Don’t you know that he wants you?”
Wei Wuxian blinks once, then snorts. “What a ridiculous lie,” he denies, but there’s something on the edges of his memory. A warm word, whispered into his neck. Hands running down his back. A ribbon around his wrist.
“Oh, but it’s true,” the third spirit says gleefully. Its voice is a gross amalgamation of the hundreds of voices Wei Wuxian has heard in the Burial Mounds. “Of course he didn’t want you, he made that clear, but he kept watching you. He couldn’t look away.”
A gesture, and an illusion springs up. There’s Wei Wuxian, as he was before the fall. A sunny smile, a flash of black hair tied back by a red ribbon, bored, hands fiddling with something, trying to get Lan Zhan’s attention. Lan Zhan ignores him, as usual. But there’s Lan Zhan, golden eyes tracking Wei Wuxian’s movements, watching him out of the corner of his eye, the tiniest of blushes on the tips of his ears.
“Don’t you see?” The third spirit whispers in his ear. “You were so pretty back then, Wei Wuxian. Of course he wanted you.” There’s a sudden, overwhelming surge of resentful energy, so strong it turns corporeal. Wei Wuxian isn’t as strong or as fast as he used to be, and it forces him to bend over from the pressure. “And when you finally die,” the spirit hisses, “on your knees in the dirt where you belong, you waste of a human being, ” it spits, “you’ll die knowing that was your only worth!”
The shadows flicker in and out, and Wei Wuxian ruthlessly represses a whimper. They surge around him, trying to fill every orifice, like Wei Wuxian hasn’t already been eaten inside out by resentful energy, like he doesn’t already belong.
“Fuck off,” Wei Wuxian snarls. "You're lying. You're lying." He raises Chenqing to his lips, though he can barely feel it through the shadows trying to choke him, and can barely draw breath to play. Still, he plays with all the will he has to muster, and if there’s one thing Wei Wuxian has never been lacking in, it’s strength of will.
The shadows recede, coiling around the edges of his vision. “Just remember,” they whisper, “if you ever find yourself warming his bed. We warned you. Is that how you want to belong? No no, Wei Wuxian. You belong to us, not him.”
“Good fucking luck,” snarls the Jiang Cheng spirit.
Wei Wuxian gets the vague impression that it’s trying to fight the third spirit, though he can’t tell, from all the dark shadows in front of his face. Spirits fighting other spirits is all they did before Wei Wuxian showed up, so it’s not surprising, but it feels…different.
Finally, Wei Wuxian manages to banish the shadows. He’s left with the original two spirits, slumped over and panting. It’s hard to breathe in air as toxic and thick as the Burial Mounds. “Still here?” He rasps.
The second spirit is still staring at him, horrified. “Wei Ying…I am not a spirit,” it says. “I am–”
“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian chokes out. It won’t be the first time a spirit has tried to convince him that it’s not a spirit, but he can’t deal with that right now, after that last spirit. “Don’t even try. You’re just a spirit. What would he be doing in the Burial Mounds anyway, you’re not real. You can’t be real.”
“We’re both real, Wei Wuxian,” the Jiang Cheng spirit barks. “What’s your–”
“You can’t be real,” Wei Wuxian insists again. “You can’t.”
“I am real, Wei Ying.” The second spirit takes another step forward.
“Don’t take another step,” Wei Wuxian snarls, staggering to his feet. “I’ll rip you to shreds. I will. I don’t care who you look like.” He holds up Chenqing again, but he’s so weak. “You’re not Lan Zhan!”
There’s a dead silence as they stay locked in tense opposition. Wei Wuxian looks like the beast he is; standing on shaking legs while he spits and snarls, demon flute in one hand while his eyes burn blood red and his sunken, hollow cheeks make way for a mirthless grin.
“Lan Wangji,” the Jiang Cheng spirit says eventually, without looking away from Wei Wuxian, “get Sizhui.”
The Lan Zhan spirit nods sharply and makes a gesture behind his back with his right hand. He also does not let his attention drift from Wei Wuxian.
Wei Wuxian decides that when the spirits start getting reinforcements, it’s time to go. He turns away from them and starts dragging his feet up the hill.
“Don’t walk away, Wei Wuxian–!”
“Jiang Wanyin!”
He hears the two spirits fighting behind him and grins to himself. Sometimes their nature works out to his advantage. But all too soon, the two spirits have caught up to him again, and he’s forced to stop and turn around again, lest they get too close.
“Go away,” Wei Wuxian says, in what used to be a snarl but ended up sounding hollow. “Leave me alone.”
“Why can I not be real, Wei Ying?” Spirit Lan Zhan asks.
“Don’t call me that,” Wei Wuxian snaps. “You’re not–”
“Why?” The spirit presses, Lan Zhan’s golden eyes wide and beseeching. Wei Wuxian wants to claw its eyes out.
“Why?” Spirit Jiang Cheng demands.
Why, why, why? “Because he can’t see me like this!” Wei Wuxian shouts.
He waves Chenqing around at all of it. It would be unbearable if Lan Zhan knew what Wei Wuxian had turned into. Half-mad, half-dead; a dirty, hollow face; unholy, demonic eyes; soulless, coreless, despicable, unloveable.
He points to a random corpse. “That’s supper,” he finds himself saying, and watches as the spirit makes the connection. “See?” Wei Wuxian says ruthlessly. “It’s disgusting, isn’t it. I’m disgusting. He’d be disgusted. He can’t ever see this.”
“Wei Ying,” the spirit begins, and tries to step forward again. It can’t seem to stop reaching for him.
“I warned you, no further,” Wei Wuxian hisses, and raises Chenqing to play.
“Senior Wei!” It’s a young voice that interrupts their face-off, and a young, innocent boy who steps between them. “Dad,” he corrects himself. “What’s wrong?”
“Dad?” Wei Wuxian echoes blankly.
“He doesn’t recognize any of us,” Spirit Jiang Cheng says from behind him.
“Dad, it’s me,” the boy says. Child spirits are rare, but sometimes spirits take the form of children. “It’s A-Yuan.”
A-Yuan? Distantly, a memory bubbles to the surface: a small toddler in the Burial Mounds, shrieking with laughter while Wei Wuxian covers him with dirt. That’s right, Wei Wuxian came back to the Burial Mounds with the Wens. But this A-Yuan is a teenager.
Wait. Back? The pervasive sense of wrongness sweeps over him again, shaking Wei Wuxian to the core. Back, as in again. As in…Wei Wuxian escaped.
This time, the Burial Mounds themselves rise; a seething mass of shadows and monstrous shapes. No, they hiss. You can’t have him back. The resentful energy is so strong, so cold, so possessive. You took him from us once, you won’t get him again. He’s ours, ours, ours.
“No,” Wei Wuxian mumbles from white lips. “No, you can’t, let me go, let me go let me go.”
Never, never. You belong here. You’re a monster, just like us. You don’t belong with them. They don’t want you. They’re disgusted by you, you pitiful monster.
“But…” Wei Wuxian struggles to think as another memory surfaces. Lan Zhan, dressed in red, bowing before him. Jiang Cheng and a donkey. Four plaques and one son. “Aren’t we…married?”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says from behind him. “We are married, Wei Ying. A-Yuan is our son. Please. Come back.”
Don’t go, the Burial Mounds command.
Don’t go. Come back. Don’t go. Come back–
“Shut up,” Wei Wuxian says desperately. “All of you, just–shut up.” He clutches his head in his hands. What is so wrong? Why is everything wrong? Wei Wuxian raises his flute once more.
Wei Wuxian, they croon. Stay.
“A-Xian,” Jiang Cheng says, a note of fear in his voice. “What are you doing.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan pleads. “Don’t.”
“Dad?” A-Yuan asks tentatively. “You’re scaring me.”
Wei Wuxian, don’t you dare, the Burial Mounds rage. You belong to us.
I belong to no one, Wei Wuxian thinks, and then he blows. Chenqing croons out the first notes of its song. I command you, Wei Wuxian tells the Burial Mounds. Not the other way around. I escaped you once. You think it’s so hard the second time?
The illusion shatters.
Wei Wuxian stands on the edge of the Burial Mounds, watching the resentful energy retreat. He’s dressed in black and red robes. It’s still cold, but he has a golden core. Three members of his small family are watching him, worriedly.
“We shouldn’t have gone on this night hunt,” Wei Wuxian rasps finally.
Immediately, A-Yuan fumbles with his belt, searching for water. Jiang Cheng’s face sags, relief pulling at every war line creased across his cheeks. Lan Zhan rushes forward.
This time, Wei Wuxian receives him with open arms. “Of course you’re real,” Wei Wuxian tells Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “You’re so warm.”
“Mn. Don’t do that again.”
“‘M not planning on it,” Wei Wuxian says thickly.
A-Yuan approaches Wei Wuxian, offering him water, but Wei Wuxian pulls him into the hug instead, nestling him between his two parents.
“You did great back there, A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees.
Wei Wuxian looks over Lan Zhan’s shoulder and sees Jiang Cheng still standing there, looking uncomfortable. “Aww, Jiang Cheng,” he says, mustering up a smile for his brother. “Don’t just stand there! Join!”
“Who wants one of your stupid hugs!” Jiang Cheng immediately protests, but he steps closer and gives Wei Wuxian a painfully awkward pat on the back. “I’m glad you’re alright, idiot,” he mutters.
Wei Wuxian can’t even muster up his usual protest. Instead, he closes his eyes and stands there, bones losing their frigidity to the warmth of his family.