Chapter Text
Wei Ying sat on the end of the dock farthest from the main compound of Lotus Pier. A warm wind, perfumed by Lotus blossoms, played with his hair, sending long strands of black to wave in front of his face. Once-in-a-while, his red hair ribbon joined in, flicking with a light snap as it danced. His fingers played with the edge of his black robes while his feet dangled in the cool water.
Yesterday, he had few cares. He was head disciple of a prominent sect, a strong cultivator, and was close with his sect heir and shijie. Sure, he had to endure Madame Yu and her constant need to blame him for the smallest issue. Yes, he had felt her spiritual whip Zidian on his back more than once and put up with rude, cruel comments about him and his parents; plus, Jiang Cheng’s constant criticism, unkind rumours, and Sect Leader Jiang Fengmian’s constant disinterest in stopping his wife from hurting him.
Unfortunately, all of that was nothing compared with what the future held.
Well, now the future was another life gone, and he had returned to the beginning. Okay, not the beginning. If it had been his choice to go back in time, he would have chosen a moment before his parents died. Sure, he would have been only four-years-old, but he would have had a chance at saving them. And if he couldn’t save them, he could have survived the streets better or even gone to find Wen Qing.
She wouldn’t have turned him away. Plus, growing up with the Dafen Wens would have been far better than growing up in Lotus Pier.
Not that he didn’t love the place. He had plenty of good memories: forming his core, getting his sword, playing in the water, hunting pheasants, stealing lotus seeds, getting into mischief with Jiang Cheng or some of the other disciples, letting Shijie comb his hair, telling her stories, and sharing in whatever meal she cooked, especially lotus and pork rib soup.
All of it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. But this wasn’t his home, not really. At best, he was head disciple, brother, friend, and nephew. At worst, he was trouble, a leech, the son of a servant, and the doom of Yunmeng Jiang.
How could someone really belong when his place depended on the mood of those around him?
Yesterday, this all didn’t seem to matter. He thought he had it all figured out. When Jiang Cheng became sect leader, he would become his shidi’s subordinate and serve by his side. Until then, if they punished him no matter what, he would do what he wanted. After all, he knew what he was, a shield, at times a replacement for three spiritual dogs, and a substitute for a practice dummy to abuse when Madame Yu’s temper flared.
Only Jiang Yanli seemed to truly see him as a person, a brother. But his shijie had her own troubles.
He didn’t blame her for the times she tried to convince him Jiang Cheng cared beneath his cruel remarks, or that Madame Yu would be nicer to him if he just behaved better.
She was a child herself, and she longed to believe her family held more love and kindness than they really did. After all, Madame Yu didn’t approve of her either. She spent too much time doing servant’s work, had a weak core, and a fragile constitution. Plus, with a plain face and a quiet disposition, she only had her kind heart to recommend her, and the cultivation world didn’t see much value in that. In truth, her constant naivety and belief that everything would work out despite evidence to the contrary, not only made her vulnerable, but did little to truly help anyone.
Still, he loved her gentle spirit. After all, she was the closest person to a mother he had since his own died. Yeah, twelve was too young for such responsibility, but he and Jiang Cheng gave her people to care for openly, and they loved her for it.
Sighing, he kicked his feet through the water, creating droplets that shone like diamonds in the air. Soon, the rest of Lotus Pier would rise and break the silence of the dawn. Already, birds and waterfowl sang their morning greetings, their voices echoing over the lakes, accompanied by the water lapping against the shore and the sampan boats tied to the docks.
At fifteen for the second time in his existence, Wei Ying didn’t know what to do. He felt older and more broken than the first time. How was he supposed to maintain an easygoing persona, the boy born with a smile on his face, the one able to handle anything and laugh it off as unimportant?
A person could only take so much.
Sure, he had the chance to make things better, but how? He doubted anyone would believe he had lived this life already. Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to share anything, anyway.
In a week, he would travel to Cloud Recesses with Jiang Cheng to participate in the Lan lectures. In three months, he would punch Jin Zixuan and get sent back. Almost a year later, Wen Ruohan would attack Cloud Recesses, burn the place down, and take a wounded Lan Zhan to the Wen indoctrination. From there, Wen Chao would leave them trapped in the Tortoise of Slaughter’s cave and Wei Ying would spend a week alone with Lan Zhan. Another three months later, Lotus Pier would fall, Jiang Cheng would lose his core, and he would give his core to his brother.
That memory made him pause.
He placed his hand over his lower dantian where his core, somehow stronger than before, spun happily inside him.
Yeah, no. He couldn’t do that again. They weren’t his; he wasn’t theirs.
Besides, he had more to lose this time.
He wanted a life with Lan Zhan. They had barely managed to confess to each other before whichever celestials that liked to play with him threw him back in time. Did his fuddy duddy go too? Would he have to make his adorable soulmate fall for him again? Could they even do so if only one of them carried the burden of their past life? Would it be fair to either of them?
“What’s the matter with you?” Jiang Cheng demanded, shoving Wei Ying’s boots to the side as he dropped down beside him.
“Who says anything is wrong?” he asked, trying to find the energy to be cheeky.
His shidi snorted. “You’re never up this early.”
“Nightmare,” he explained, staring into the water.
“Haven’t you grown out of those yet?” Jiang Cheng demanded with a nudge to Wei Ying’s shoulder. “Only babies and little children are scared of bad dreams. There aren’t any monsters hiding under your bed, and I keep the dogs away, so grow up.”
Wei Ying didn’t know what to say to that. His nightmares weren’t so simple. His shidi didn’t know the horrors of war, of enduring two days of brutal surgery, or of surviving the Burial Ground. As far as he could tell, this was Wei Ying’s fourth life, though he couldn’t be certain how many times he died in that terrible place.
“I am growing up. That’s the problem,” he whispered, longing to get away from Jiang Cheng.
The last time they were in Lotus Pier together, his ex-shidi tried to whip him with Zidian and made all sorts of accusations. Sure, this Jiang Cheng hadn’t done any of those things, but he could.
The last time he was in Lotus Pier, he swore he would never return. There was nothing here for him. It wasn’t his home anymore. Somewhere along the way in his past life, he let go of Yunmeng Jiang and the Jiang family.
Jiang Wanyin gave another snort. “Sure you are. And the Peacock is actually a nice guy.”
He is, sort of, though Wei Ying couldn’t say for sure. They hadn’t met up again after he rescued the Wen Remnants, not until the day Wei Ying killed him.
No matter what Wen Ning or Lan Zhan said, the Jin’s death was his fault. Yeah, they had ambushed him, making sure his only weapon was Wen Ning, but he was the one who lost control. He was the one who wielded the blade.
He could use the excuses that he was tired, exhausted, cornered, defending himself, whatever, but the end result was still the same. Jin Zixuan died, his shijie’s husband, the father of Jin Ling, died by his hand.
For that reason alone, he would steer clear of the Jin heir.
As a disciple and not a true brother, he didn’t have the right to punch the peacock or even defend his shijie. Oh, that hurt. Could he actually stand by and let Yanli be insulted?
“She loves him. It’s her choice,” he said out loud, his head beginning to hurt.
“What, the fuck, are you taking about?” Jiang Wanyin snapped.
“Nothing,” he said with a sigh and picked up his boots. “It’s fine. Get some breakfast. We’re running through short forms today.”
He ignored the stunned expression on the sect heir’s face and went inside. After donning his boots and straightening his appearance, he went to visit Sect Leader Jiang. He knocked on the door and waited.
“Enter.”
Hands shaking, he took a deep breath. He was the Yiling Patriarch. He had faced worse problems than this. He had stood up against the strongest, most powerful people and…
And lost.
Yeah. His shoulders slumped as he deflated. Ready or not, he went inside.
Sect Leader Jiang sat at his desk, his greying hair done in a tidy topknot and held in place with the Jiang, nine petal, lotus guan. In appearance, he looked much like he did the day he died, with a deep purple coat over dark blue robes and his silver clarity bell hanging from his belt.
And he was alive, breathing and everything.
The man he once thought of as his uncle looked up at him with a pleasantly surprised expression. “A-Xian, you’re up early.”
Wei Ying rubbed the back of his neck, trying to sort out what he wanted to say. “Sect Leader, this disciple would, first, like to thank you and your family for taking this lowly one in.”
Jiang Fengmian gave a soft huff of confusion, his gentle smile fading. “A-Xian, what is this? Why are you speaking to me so formally?”
“Because, Sect Leader, this one needs you to listen.”
He gestured to a seat with an indulgent nod. “I always listen to you, a-Xian, do I not?”
“No,” Wei Ying replied, refusing to sit. He needed to stand to do this. “No, you don’t, not really.”
“Ah?” he responded, his surprise palpable.
“This one apologises for being forward, but this one feels it is important that you understand.”
The Jiang leader leaned back, his dark brows drawing together. “What is it you need me to understand?”
“I – this lowly one has several requests to make of his sect leader for the good of Yunmeng Jiang. First, this one would like to step down as head disciple.”
He put up a hand as Jiang Fengmian went to protest. “Please, do not interrupt. As much as I enjoy the position and appreciate the honour of such a post for one as young as myself, I believe my continuing as head disciple is not good for the Jiang sect or your family.”
“It’s your family too, a-Xian,” the sect leader insisted, his fingers clenching around his brush.
After taking another deep breath, Wei Ying shook his head again. “No. We both know I am not family and never have been.”
“A-Xian, I don’t want to hear this,” the man said with a scowl. “I have a great deal of obligations to deal with. Please, carry on with your duties.”
“Sect Leader Jiang, if you refuse to listen to me, I will secede from Yunmeng Jiang altogether.”
A flicker of anger shot across Jiang Fengmian’s face, but instantly turned into a condescending smile. “You’re fifteen. You’re still a boy. You don’t know what you are saying. Now…”
“If I’m too young to know my own mind, I’m too young to be head disciple.” He suppressed a sigh. “Besides, this isn’t about me. It’s about your family and your sect.”
“You sound like Madame Yu,” he said with a bitter edge.
“Well, maybe she’s right. In fact, I know she’s right about some things. Having me as head disciple undermines your son’s confidence. It also undermines his authority as sect heir among the other disciples. It causes confusion among them. They don’t know who to listen to half the time because Jiang Cheng and I are such opposites. While it’s nice to be considered his older brother, I am not, not in blood, and that causes friction. He needs me to obey him as sect heir, but as head disciple, I need him to obey me.”
“This can all be worked out. You two are young yet. You will find balance as you grow up,” he said, dismissing his concerns once again.
“No we won’t. It will only get worse as we get older. The tension between us will only grow. He is destined to lead this sect, and I am unsuited for sect life.”
Sect Leader Jiang pursed his lips, his jaw tensing as he tapped the end of his brush against his desk. “What do you want me to do, a-Xian, demote you to outer disciple? Move you into the disciple quarters? Call you Wei Wuxian and insist you call me Sect Leader?”
“Yes.”
Silence fell between them.
Wei Ying waited, hoping the man would finally understand. Jiang Fengmian had avoided any comments about letting him leave, though. If we ignore it, all the problems would go away, and everyone would be happy. That was how he and his daughter defended themselves.
“You and a-Cheng are leaving for Cloud Recesses in a few days. We will discuss it when you come back.”
Disappointed, Wei Ying took the next step. “I will wait until then, but I have one other request. I would like to head to Caiyi early to do some night hunting on the way. While I am gone, put your son in charge. Let him know you believe in him.”
“Do not tell me how to raise my son, Wei Wuxian. That is going too far,” he growled, his eyes sparking like they did when Madame Yu challenged him.
He gave a proper bow in response. “This one apologises. Sect Leader Jiang is correct. It is not this one’s place to comment on the sect leader’s family.”
The frustration in Jiang Fengmian’s face gave way to shock.
Wei Ying didn’t wait for him to gather himself back together. “This one will take his leave now. Unless Sect Leader Jiang needs him for anything, this one will head to Caiyi and meet Jiang-gongzi there in one week.” He bowed formally again and left the room.
While he didn’t achieve what he hoped to, he did give himself time to put together a better plan. A part of him still wanted to stay in Lotus Pier and pretend nothing was different or wrong, but he couldn’t. However, he didn’t want to just leave either. He needed time to establish some things.
While a part of him never paid attention to money, his time with Wen Qing taught him the importance of currency when it came to taking care of loved ones.
He didn’t have Lan Zhan’s deep pockets to rely on, and the allowance from Jiang Fengmian amounted to little more than a few coins to get something special. Anything else he acquired from the merchants in town, and they knew to send the bill to Lotus Pier.
As he went to his room to pack, he decided to avoid as many people as he could. It had been difficult enough seeing Sect Leader Jiang alive again; he didn’t have the strength to see Shijie. Even the rest of the disciples, his shimeis and shidis, were still ghosts in his memories. To witness their smiling faces, would break him.
Instead, he filled a qiankun bag with his invention notes, some extra clothes, toiletries, paper, brushes, ink, and cinnabar. As he rummaged through his things, he filled another bag with the few keepsakes he had: ribbons for his hair, a wooden turtle from Shijie, a couple of small presents from the disciples, and other little gifts he had received since he came to Lotus Pier.
His heart hurt at the sight of them. They had burned in his last life, destroyed by Wen Chao and his followers.
He dug under his bed and pulled out a long, narrow box made of plain wood – his father’s dizi, one of the few items Jiang Fengmian gave him when he arrived. The thought of a chubby-cheeked, child version of his a-die playing the instrument brought a smile back to his lips. Madame Yu said his a-die had no talent, and wouldn’t let Wei Ying play anywhere near Lotus Pier because he would be just the same. So, he would head to the back fields where no one would bother him and play until he managed to develop some skills. From there, he nagged one of the musicians in town to teach him. After he learned how to read music, he memorised songs and joined his teacher in performing for the public. They always chose an inn or estate far away from Lotus Pier to prevent Madame Yu from hearing about it.
Whatever coin he made, he gave to his teacher, citing payment for lessons. The man had laughed and agreed, but insisted on buying him wine.
Wei Ying had his first drink with him, and found he liked it. Somehow, it did away with the constant hollow inside that he never noticed until tipsy enough to not feel it.
The memory made his mouth dry. Before he left, he would have to pick up a jar or two to get him through until he reached Caiyi. While Wen Qing always insisted he had an alcohol problem, he didn’t want to agree.
An image of Lan Zhan’s disappointed pout came to him, making him cringe. Fine, he would deal with his need for wine, but only after all the death and war and other ugly stuff. One momentous change at a time.
After tying the bags to his belt, he picked up Suibian. His sword greeted him with a sliver of energy, making him have to blink rapidly to keep back the tears.
The wide open road lay before him again. He would get his skills back up, and only use demonic cultivation as a last resort. Of course, that meant carving Chenqing again, not wanting to use his father’s dizi for resentful energy.
Content with his current plan, he snuck out of Lotus Pier. Sect Leader Jiang could tell the others where he went. The sooner he distanced himself from them, the better.
When he finally arrived in Caiyi, he spent the evening scouting out Biling Lake. Once he located the waterborne abyss, he made himself comfortable on the farthest shore from the town, and used his current, bamboo dizi to order the dead ashore. While he had taken his time carving the instrument during his travels, it still didn’t match up to Chenqing, and he had to stop a couple of times to make adjustments. Despite this, he managed to direct the dead to collect the items and remaining bodies from the bottom of the lake.
This, of course, made the waterborne abyss quite annoyed as it had less and less to draw on. Once it was sufficiently weak, Wei Ying lured the creature in with a ring of flags and an entrapment array. He only had to get tough with the monster a couple of times before the abyss surrendered and got sucked into his last qiankun bag along with the dead and their treasures. In the end, the bag was more like a sack, and he realised he didn’t know what to do with it. The dead needed to be put to rest and given proper burials, and the waterborne abyss needed a nice, sunny spot to dry out in. With his options limited, he slung the sack over his shoulder and headed to the nearest inn.
He had enough coins to book one room for one night or buy some Emperor’s Smile and sleep in the woods until the Jiang disciples arrived.
Jiang Wanyin would probably be mad at him and expect him to beg for a room. Ah, he was tired of having to live off others.
Sure, he didn’t mind Lan Zhan paying for things. After all, one didn’t refuse Hanguang-jun. Well, he could say no, but he didn’t want to. After all, his husband's pout was not good for his heart.
With thoughts of his soulmate bringing him down, he opted for the Emperor’s Smile and made himself a cosy camp far away from anyone else. As he lay by the lake and watched the stars light up the night sky, he downed jug after jug. Somewhere on his fifth jar, he got an idea.
It wasn’t one of his best. Wen Qing would probably call it one of his worst, and Lan Zhan would probably be disappointed in him, but he liked it. All he needed was the right transportation talisman, one that relied on memory to trigger the destination.
Since Jin Ling had taken him on a tour of Koi Tower after he took over the Jin sect, he knew what the treasury room looked like. And he remembered the intricate design on the wall of the Wen treasury room. So all he had to do was choose which one to pilfer some funds from.
Some might call it stealing, but he figured both sects owed him, so a bag or two wouldn’t hurt them.
He spent a few hours working out the proper design for his talismans and decided to go to the Jin first. It was the middle of the night. Nobody would notice. With the greater strength of his golden core and a touch of resentful energy as a boost, he popped into the Jin treasury. The sudden shift made him stumble and knock over a few bags, but managed to catch them before they hit the floor. After putting them back, he wandered around until he reached the back of the room where the oldest chests of money stood.
The spells on the lock of the nearest one were old and easy to dismantle. In less than a minute, he opened the lid to find the chest filled to the top with pouches of coins. While pettiness tempted him to take it all, he limited himself to one large gold bag, two medium silver, and five decent sized copper pouches. That would keep him and the entire Dafen clan in riches for several years to come. Satisfied with his haul, he decided to cover his theft by leaving a little gift.
“Happy birthday, Jin Guangshan,” he whispered and dumped the waterborne abyss sack in the middle of the room. Giggling, he opened the top as he set off his transportation talisman. When he arrived back at his camp without the abyss, he sank to the ground and laughed until his abdomen hurt. Content, he finished his last jug and fell asleep hugging his hard earned treasure to his chest.