Work Text:
The thing that crawls it’s way out of the burial mounds is not Wei Wuxian. It was, at some point. Knows this with such surety and clarity. It’s name used to be Wei Wuxian, it used to live Wei Wuxian’s life. His laughter, his teasing, his fears, his love (Lan Zhan Lan Zhan Lan Zhan).
And most importantly, his anger. His resentment, which fed him enough to survive in that wretched place for weeks upon weeks, with no food or water par the blood and rotting flesh of those thrown down before him. That same resentment fuelled him, until he became it and it finally, finally had enough power to leave.
It is nothing but a shadow of something long dead, but it had once been Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian had cared so very deeply for his siblings, and it finds it worries Wei Wuxian’s same worries. But Wei Wuxian’s shijie and Jiang Cheng cannot see what it has become. It remembers how much Wei Wuxian had wanted to protect them, even from the kind of hurt that draws tears rather than blood on a battlefield.
Looking at it’s wavering form, a poor mockery of what Wei Wuxian had once been, it decides it will not go to them. Not at first. It is too new, knows it will not be able to hide it’s sharp edges and even sharper, tainted energies. It must gain more control over it’s form, before it can go to them and put on a fake-Wei Wuxian skin and smile and crawl into his Shijie’s welcome arms.
It- not he, it corrects itself. It is not Wei Wuxian, only the pitiful remains of a soul who’s corpse it left rotting at the bottom of the pit- or perhaps it ate it. It cannot remember, for when it freed itself it was so very hungry- as hungry as Wei Wuxian had been, left starving for months in these burial mounds.
It is still so very hungry, phantom pangs deep in a stomach it does not think it can currently mimic, and at the thought of food it is reminded of something so very important. It grins, maw widening as drool pools down it’s sharp, sharp, so very sharp teeth.
It remembers all that Wei Wuxian had remembered. It is the thing that was once Wei Wuxian.
So of course it remembers Wen Chao.
There is a certain thrill in hunting, it finds. In the chase and the fighting and in the way it’s claws sink into pitifully soft human skin, the way it tears and in the way it’s prey shrieks and pleads. It takes pride in the way it paints these arrogant red-wearing cultivators in even more of their colour.
But it soon discovers another way to hunt. Challenging itself to take on the shape it remembers it used to be when it was Wei Wuxian, closer and closer each and every time. How long does it take for it’s prey to realise they are not fighting another cultivator?
How long does it take them to realise they are not fighting a man at all?
It gets better at this game each and every time. As much as it’s goal is to be able to pass as Wei Wuxian once again, it finds it enjoys playing with its prey in a way only creatures like it are capable.
And when it is time to face Wen Chao, it will be with the full face of Wei Wuxian. It remembers it’s promise to Wen Chao, after all. That Wei Wuxian would come back to haunt him as something resentful.
It does like to keep it’s promises.
The time comes, and soon it finds itself towering over Wen Chao, face that of a man but just that little too stretched out, just a few too many teeth as it grins a wicked, hungry thing. Just enough for Wen Chao to know that this is something resentful, something he killed. That this is Wei Wuxian, keeping his promise.
It looks at him, and can barely keep its form as it is. It wants to rip and tear and devour, an urge so strong it almost overrides its need to torment, to make Wen Chao suffer and fear as much as it had, when it was still Wei Wuxian.
Wen Chao trembles beneath it, the smell of his fear something so very delicious. Wen Zhuliu is positioned behind it as though to strike it’s golden core, though it can taste his fear, too. It does not care, for it has no golden core to be destroyed.
“Oh Wen Chao,” it says, though it’s voice is more of a distorted croon, a monstrous noise rough and unused yet oh so pleasurable in the back of it’s throat at the spike in fear it brings. “I told you- I’d- come back to haunt you.”
A nd oh how that delicious scent grows stronger. It is about ready now, has toyed with its meal long enough, and is eager to shed it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin and show Wen Chao just what came crawling out of the burial mounds, let him see the monster he created for the final moments of his foolish, disguising life.
But then Wen Zhuliu moves to strike, and two newcomers make their presence known. It turns, though it doesn’t need to. It is familiar with the way the air changes, charged with something powerful and dangerous. Wei Wuxian would always be able to recognise the whip restraining Wen Zhuliu, and so the creature Wei Wuxian became recognises Zidian just as easily.
Zidian, and of course the man who holds Zidian tight in his hand. Jiang Cheng.
It finds itself growing cold, for all it has not been able to feel the cold since becoming it . It resists the urge to snarl, to lash out at the intruder- intruders , there’s two of them, and the other one is- is-
It is not ready for this encounter, and for all it had planned for its disguise to be perfect, it has no other choice. Desperately, it forces itself further and further into it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin, the one it has spent all of its hunt trying to perfect. It is not there yet, any lapse in concentration or mood will have it leaking back through, but it- it cannot-
It cannot bare the thought of Lan Zhan seeing it for what it has become.
It can hear an intake of breath as it turns to face the newcomers, even that display of emotion so very strange to know it comes from Lan Zhan, and it resists the urge to rumble out sounds that would be nonsense to the cultivators ears, a deep rumble in the back of it’s throat. It presses the sound down and down so not to leave it’s mouth, runs it’s tongue over still too sharp teeth.
It’s gaze locks with Lan Zhan’s, and in that moment it can almost forget about everything else. It almost feels like Wei Wuxian again.
Lan Zhan’s lips, ones it remembers staring at for too long on more than one occasion back in classes at Cloud Recesses, part and a sound so soft it suspects it is not supposed to hear;
“Wei Ying.”
But it is no longer Wei Wuxian, for all it intends to pretend to be, and it snaps it’s own eyes away before it can give in to the urge to let go of itself and curls itself around the cultivator. It shakes itself, hopes that nothing that is not it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin showed through in it’s distraction, diverts it’s attention back to Wen Chao, still trembling at it’s feet.
He’s begging, now. Begging for anything, please, anything but that monster, save me.
It can’t help but snarl at that, teeth bared. Thankfully it’s back is again to Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng. It’s teeth are still far too sharp. Wen Chao quietens. Good, it does not want Wen Chao to reveal what it is.
“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng calls out. The familiar anger that masks relief in his voice settles something in it’s chest. “Where have you been!?”
It does not trust it’s voice to come out as that of a man’s rather than a monster’s, instead dips its head towards the cowering Wen Chao. Jiang Cheng, of course, gets the message.
“Right.” His eyes glint with something murderous. “We’ll deal with this first.”
It hums in agreement, a keen nod, and something in it’s eyes must give away the bloodlust lingering beneath, because both Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan startle. It quickly tightens its control on itself.
Lan Zhan is reaching out to it, then. “Wei Ying.” The name of what it used to be from those lips sends something painful and longing through it, and it cannot help but flinch. Don’t call me that, a part of it shrieks. Please please keep calling me that I’m sorry please tell me I’m still him, another part of it pleas.
“What happened to you?”
It shakes it’s head, can feel its insides beginning to unravel at the onslaught of everything . It should not have picked this night to go after Wen Chao. It was not ready to face any of this.
Thankfully, Jiang Cheng interrupts with a snarl almost as vicious as it’s own. It tampers down on it’s anger at the sound being directed at Lan Zhan. “Matters of the Yunmeng Jiang sect do not concern you, Hanguang-Jun. With respect, Wei Wuxian and I have other matters to attend to.”
The screaming after starts with Wen Zhuliu, and any restraint it has melts away at the scent of fresh blood and scorched flesh . It has enough mind to keep it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin, though- at least it thinks it does. Fortunately, Jiang Cheng is focused on his own prey, and Lan Zhan has removed himself from the carnage long before it slips up and takes a bite of Wen Chao’ s delicious, fear soaked flesh .
Later, Jiang Cheng comes back to himself and looks upon the carnage he and his alive, thank fuck he’s alive, brother have caused, and for all the horror’s he has witnessed during this god forsaken war, the scene that paints his surroundings is, somehow, the worst by far. More brutal even than the fall of Lotus Pier.
He knows what he did, vicious in his righteous anger. Wen Zhuliu lay dead, covered in the angry, vicious marks of his whip, final moments ended with the sharp blade of his sword. It is a horrifying sight, a cruelty bought out in him by this god damned war and the burning destruction of his home .
And yet-
Yet, the bloodied mess that was once Wen Chao-
Jiang Cheng does not know how to describe it. Does not know how to reconcile the horror of it with Wei Wuxian. Nausea rolls in his stomach, and he forces himself to focus on Wei Wuxian instead of the taste of bile in his throat. Wei Wuxian is here, he has been found after leaving Jiang Cheng to wake up alone on that mountain and of months searching-
And there’s something wrong with Wei Wuxian, something fundamental that has changed. It’s in that first look of him, when Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji first made their move, the way his form wasn’t quite right- too long, too sharp- barely discernible from the resentful energy that surrounds him.
The way that form shifted into something more familiar when Wei Wuxian noticed their presence.
It’s in the carnage around them, something Jiang Cheng cannot connect to his brother in all but blood. But well, war has changed them all, and Jiang Cheng has no doubt that wherever Wei Wuxian has been in the last months, it has left its mark.
It’s in the blood that coats his brother’s lips, in the way his tongue darts out to lap up any lingering carnage.
There is a voice at the back of his mind that wonders if, after months of desperate searching , this is really Wei Wuxian, but Jiang Cheng ignores it. Takes in the sight of Wei Wuxian, covered in the mess of what is left of Wen Chao, the wild look in eyes that seem to glow red in the moonlight. He takes it all in, and let’s himself feel relief.
He hasn’t lost another member of his family.
Jiang Cheng gestures for his brother to follow him. Any questions he desperately wants to ask can be addressed later.
Wei Wuxian has finally been found.
It follows Jiang Cheng down the stairs, trailing behind him. It tries to carry itself the way Wei Wuxian used to, with a carefree step, but it can tell it is not very convincing. That carefree nature Wei Wuxian once had had been destroyed in the burial mounds long before it was all that remained, and even had that not been the case, it is a creature born of resentment. Confident and carefree, yes, but a predator all the same, and for all it’s form is that of the fake-Wei Wuxian skin, it takes all it is to keep it’s gait something human.
It can taste the unease wafting off Jiang Cheng, can see the way his eyes dart back to it every now and then, shoulders tense. It cannot help but think again that it was not ready for this encounter, but thankfully Jiang Cheng hasn’t asked any questions, or drawn his sword on it.
Yet.
But then Jiang Cheng looks to the path ahead, where Lan Zhan is residing not far off, and the way the tension eases in his form is something controlled, but the relief in the air is not.
Perhaps it has not messed everything up yet.
It takes in Lan Zhan’s form, moves ahead of Jiang Cheng slightly faster than it knows it should have, ignoring Jiang Cheng’s protest, but- oh, oh . It’s Lan Zhan, how can it resist ? Besides, bounding up to Lan Zhan is something Wei Wuxian would do, it knows this with every fibre of it’s being.
Bound up, grin and tease and get as close as he could, seeing how far he could push Lan Zhan’s boundaries. To see what reaction he could get.
But it is not Wei Wuxian anymore. It’s steps are not the same, nor are it’s teeth or scent or body warmth, and surely so close, the great Second Jade of Lan would be able to tell that it is not Wei Wuxian. It cannot bare the thought, for all that it knows that it is not, not anymore, for Lan Zhan to consider it anything but Wei Wuxian.
It stops itself short where Wei Wuxian would have pressed further, no matter how much it wants. Lan Zhan gives no outward response, though as he takes it in, his eyes flash just for a moment with concern .
“Injured?” Lan Zhan asks.
And it cannot help but grin at him, willing its teeth to be as blunt as possible, somehow succeeding despite the taste of blood still on it’s tongue . Because Lan Zhan cares , oh how could it have missed such a detail when it was Wei Wuxian? It can taste it, just as it can taste everything now. Lan Zhan’s care.
Lan Zhan’s care for Wei Wuxian.
“No!” It declares proudly, voice finally wrangled into something passable as human, hopefully passable as Wei Wuxian . “ It’s all Wen Chao’s blood!”
It puffs its chest out, so very proud of itself. It finds itself wanting to tear it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin off then and there, to show Lan Zhan what a strong entity it has become. Because Lan Zhan cares , and oh how that makes something inside it’s chest soar . Wei Wuxian had never thought that Lan Zhan would care, but he does and-
And it is Wei Wuxian that Lan Zhan cares about, it reminds itself before it can go too far. Lan Zhan’s care is for who it once was, not this monster that Wei Wuxian has become.
Still, it finds it wants Lan Zhan’s care, a feeling as desperate as it is fierce, but it had decided to pretend to be Wei Wuxian, and for all it remembers being Wei Wuxian, it does not think it could go back to pretending to be him under the gaze of this man who would surely see through it’s disguise.
Lan Zhan startles at it’s admission, reaches his hand out to it, but pulls back quickly as Jiang Cheng finds himself standing next to it, hovering protectively by it’s shoulder.
It finds itself at a camp, faced with cultivators changed by the war, people it remembers being so young and carefree, when it was still Wei Wuxian. These people had looked at Wei Wuxian with an exasperated kind of fondness, back then.
Now they look at it with caution in tired, hardened eyes, think of it still as Wei Wuxian but it is no fool to think they cannot feel the way darkness clings to it’s very being. It does well to hide in it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin, but it knows it has yet to master being able to hide all that it is.
Demonic Cultivation, it hears them whisper. Has no desire to correct them. Those whispers work in its favour. Wei Wuxian had been known for his less-than-righteous ideas, let them think that he has finally put them to practice. Perhaps after the war they will deign to look closer. It has no doubt they will turn on it, once it has no more use.
It finds its mouth watering at the thought of fresh meat.
Wei Wuxian’s shijie finds it like that, a small distance away from the camp, away from the cultivators that make its mouth water so. She joins it with a bowl of gruel- a cooked, human thing that does not suit it’s palate, a waste on it- and a kind hug.
It is not the first time she has hugged it. When it had returned with Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan and the news of Wen Chao’s death, Jiang Yanli had bound up to it with tears in her eyes and pulled it into such a strong embrace it feared it’s form would shatter then and there. She had stiffened as it had returned the hug, surely feeling the way it’s form squirmed beneath it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin in that startling moment, but she did not let go.
Instead she had smiled the same loving smile she had always given Wei Wuxian, and said, “welcome back.”
She must surely know by now that something dark hides away beneath the fake-Wei Wuxian skin, must surely be able to feel the lack of warmth it radiates, if nothing else- one of the things it has still yet to master, it was not ready for any of this. Yet still, she joins it in it’s isolation and treats it as though it is still Wei Wuxian.
And it-
It finds it cannot handle her kindness, not when it knows it does not deserve it.
There are many things it cannot handle, it turns out. Keeping itself restrained and in it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin during battle is one such thing. It cannot reveal it’s claws and fangs and the true extent of it’s monstrous self to it’s allies, so it calls upon others, the weaker of its kin, spirits and corpses torn apart by the horrors of the Sunshot Campaign, allies and enemies alike, and it commands them to do it’s bidding with the shrill sound of a dizi forged from it’s own rage.
It cannot handle Jiang Cheng any more than it can Jiang Yanli, lying to the both of them and pretending it is someone it is not. Where Jiang Yanli shows kind, unwavering acceptance, never asking questions, Jiang Cheng is as sharp as his blade and with a kind of anger, shaped by war and tragedy but still, still Jiang Cheng cares.
“What happened to you?” He demands, alone with it outside a tent it never sleeps in. It finds it want’s to tell him, to reveal all that it has become and beg, plead for forgiveness, because it had never intended to abandon him and return a monster. Wei Wuxian had never-
But it is not Wei Wuxian any more, and it cannot tell. No matter how much it wants to. No matter how it can almost taste the tears Jiang Cheng blinks away before they can fall. No matter how much it wants to devour his sadness just as it wants to devour the world.
It can feel itself beginning to spiral, to crack. And the worst of it all is Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan Lan Zhan Lan Zhan, who it wants to unravel and curl around, to set up shop and never let go, ever again. Because it feels far stronger than Wei Wuxian ever had, for all Wei Wuxian had felt, and it knows how Lan Zhan feels about Wei Wuxian now, and it-
Oh how it wants.
And Lan Zhan asks it to go back to Gusu with him, as though the Cloud Recesses and it’s purification and rules could possible free it from the depths of it’s resentment. As though there is anything in this would that could bring Wei Wuxian back to life. That could make it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin feel real again.
In the end, the one it slips up with is Lan Zhan. Of course it is.
It is on the remains of a battlefield, resentment flowing through veins it can barely think to mimic like blood, pounding. It is not satisfied, it is hungry, and oh there is so very much to eat. But one of many problems with maintaining it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin is that it cannot run the risk of shedding it, and it cannot eat it’s fill, not with so many allies around who might witness it.
It is hungry, and it is restless, fragile illusion of control slipping.
And then there is the sound of a guqin, spiritual energy infused with every note, and it cannot help but to be drawn in. Closer and closer, something in it settles, unfurls, feels at peace- well, as at peace as a creature such as it may feel. It almost- almost- feels like it could be Wei Wuxian again, in that moment.
Perhaps if it continues towards the sound, it could go back to being him again.
There is something dark, resentful in a way reminiscent to the beasts cultivators gather to hunt on their night hunts- no, something somehow far, far worse. And it rolls off Wei Ying in never ending waves. Lan Wangji has known this since he first saw him, looming over Wen Chao and looking like- like-
But Lan Wangji had been relieved, that he had finally found Wei Ying again. That he was safe and- not unharmed, of course, it was fairly obvious that something terrible had happened to him- but, Wei Ying was alive. And Lan Wangji is so very relieved that he has returned, however much resentment might coil around him as though an extension of himself.
Lan Wangji is not used to using his words, just as much as he is not used to openly showing emotion, and however much he tries to reach out to Wei Ying, he finds himself being pushed further and further away. It does not help that Jiang Cheng is a hovering shadow, ready to remind Lan Wangji that Wei Ying is none of his concern, whenever he tries to-
To what?
To express his worry on the dark path Wei Ying is travelling and what it could do to him- surely already is doing to him. Lan Wangji can feel the way corruption oozes from Wei Ying wherever he goes, tightly bound to its owners control, but still there. The possibility of it having an effect on more than just Wei Ying’s temperament is not lost on Lan Wangji, and he worries.
It does not occur to Lan Wangji that perhaps those changes had already occurred, not until he is playing his guqin to calm the restless souls on the battlefield. Not until Wei Ying is looming in front of him, tall and stretched out and far more reminiscent of how he remembers the being that had loomed over Wen Chao to be. Before he had realised that that being was Wei Ying and surely his eyes must have deceived him in those moments before Wei Ying had turned to face he and Jiang Cheng because he had not thought that being had been a man at all.
Lan Wangji looks up at him, into the crimson eyes of the one he loves, and his hands fall still in the middle of his song.
Wei Ying lets out a choked noise, something pleading in it as he settles down in front of where Lan Wangji is seated. Where the blood and dirt beneath them stains both of their robes. Something curls in Lan Wangji at the sound, a worried thing. It only amplifies when Wei Ying lets out another one of those sounds, curls in on himself with fingers more akin to claws.
“Please.”
It is less of a word and more of a rumble- something dark and untamed and whol l y inhuman, and Lan Wangji finds the pieces slotting together in his mind even as he feels his whole world shatter beneath him.
There had been rumours that Wei Ying had been thrown into the burial mounds.
It is well known that nothing can survive the burial mounds, not even the greatest of cultivators.
Lan Wangji had refused to believe it, for if Wei Ying had been thrown into the burial mounds he would be dead, and Wei Ying was not dead.
Wei Ying is behaving in a manner similar to that of the high level spirits even music cannot lay to rest. Still, surely he cannot be dead. Surely it is just an affect of the resentment that emits from his body as though a part of Wei Ying himself, not just something he has learnt to call upon and control.
The strings of the guqin are plucked with hands Lan Wangji does not let tremble, wills his qi into each and every sound and directs it all at Wei Ying, a song for soothing. He watches as Wei Ying unravels before his eyes, flesh and bone falling away into an incomprehensible darkness he does not think he will ever be able to fully describe.
He wants to look away, but he cannot. He will not. If this is what Wei Ying has become then he will take in every aspect of his features, treasure every part of him.
Of what is left of him.
Lan Wangji does not startle as Wei Ying curls around him, does not stop his playing as soft monstrous sounds hum along with the music . He finds himself falling into Wangxian, a single flash of doubt entering his mind that is quickly eased as Wei Ying only curls in closer, his strange attempt at singing along growing louder.
For all that this had recently been a battlefield, Lan Wangji finds himself relaxing into the presence around him. He is glad he can give Wei Ying this moment of peace.
Later, once the music has died down and it is time to return to camp, it dons it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin once again and pulls away from Lan Zhan, cautious. It had been foolish, to allow itself to be compelled by Lan Zhan’s music, but it is Lan Zhan, and oh how could it have possibly resisted?
And Lan Zhan is looking at it, has seen it for what it really is and continues to look at it, continues to smell and feel so strongly of love that the thing that was once Wei Wuxian wants to cry. It does not think it is possible to cry, not in the same way Wei Wuxian once would have.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, “it is okay.”
The words cut deep, and it loses some of it’s fake-Wei Wuxian skin so very quickly. Not all of it, but where Wei Wuxian had been but a head taller than Lan Zhan it has to bend its back to keep that height.
“It is not.” It growls, teeth far too sharp and far too many for this fake-Wei Wuxian mouth. “I am not Wei Wuxian.”
“No.”
One word, said with such certainty and conviction. As though Lan Zhan could know-
It does not want to hurt Lan Zhan. For all Lan Zhan’s songs had calmed it’s hunger for the moment, that darkness crawls its way back up. Because it never wanted to become this, it wants to be Wei Wuxian again. It doesn’t want to pretend, but what Lan Zhan is saying surely can’t be true-
It doesn’t know if it wants to believe it is still Wei Wuxian. Perhaps it is worse that it might still be him, after everything.
It finds itself pinning Lan Zhan to the ground all the same, mouth stretched wide over Lan Zhan’s throat. Lan Zhan only shifts, seems to offer his neck up even more, and it snarls at the gesture. Lan Zhan isn’t- he isn’t supposed to- what is he-?
“Wei Ying will not hurt me.” Lan Zhan says with that same certainty. “You will not hurt me.”
It whines, curls in on itself even as it keeps pinning Lan Zhan down. Finds itself wanting to hear that name again. Lan Zhan brings his fingers up to it’s face, even though the fake-Wei Ying skin is stretched out into something surely abominable.
Somehow, Lan Zhan can tell what it wants even though it does not entirely know itself.
“Wei Ying.” He says. “You are still Wei Ying. I do not know why you think you are not, but Wei Ying will always be Wei Ying.”
And oh how desperately it wants to believe him.
Lan Wangji is not unfamiliar with the dead. He knows now that Wei Ying is dead, and how his heart aches at the knowledge. Dead, yet stands before him as something far more dangerous than a resentful spirit or fierce corpse.
The dead have a way of losing themselves, to varying degrees. As Wei Ying pins him to the ground, whines leaving his throat at every “Wei Ying” Lan Wangji utters, he aches. What, he wonders, has Wei Ying lost? To become what he has and to find his way back to the Jiang sibling’s- to Lan Wangji’s side?
What is going on through his mind, that has him giving such a reaction every time Lan Wangji utters his name? The words he had growled out as though he doesn’t believe he has any right to it anymore. As though whatever he has become, not quite ghost yet still very dead, is undeserving of a name at all-
Oh.
Lan Zhan vows to himself that he will call Wei Ying by his name any and every chance he gets. For however long it takes for Wei Ying to believe he is worthy of a name once again.