Work Text:
Wei Wuxian looks torn. When he moves to place the paper charm in Jiang Cheng’s hand, Jiang Cheng feels him hesitate. His fingers stay stretched out as if he wants to take it back—but Jiang Cheng closes his fingers around it and Wei Wuxian sighs.
“Put it under your pillow at night, it’ll connect you straight into his dreams. You absolutely must be careful.”
Jiang Cheng looks down at the charm and thinks that it can’t possibly be that dangerous. Being asked of this is already confusing enough—he had never heard of stopping a qi deviation by forcing someone into a coma, but if anyone were to be ridiculous enough to attempt it, it would be Wei Wuxian.
He’s still quite unconvinced of the danger even after Wei Wuxian’s many explanations. How dangerous could it be to poke around a little in Nie Huaisang’s dreams, find whatever in the world is the source of his emotional instability, and force him to wake him up? If anything, Jiang Cheng has already had great practice at this in their youth from all those months when he was the one responsible for corralling both Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang to class in the mornings. This is nothing new.
Wei Wuxian, as if reading his mind, repeats, “I’m serious. Don’t let your guard down. Just because you’re not fighting physically doesn’t mean you’ll be safe. You’re entering Nie Huaisang’s mind so he has all of the power, you’ll be very vulnerable. Make sure you don’t fight—and if you do, try to make sure no one gets hurt.”
“You’re worried over nothing,” Jiang Cheng says.
“Over nothing?” Wei Wuxian repeats, incredulous. He looks like he has a lot more that he wants to say but Jiang Cheng watches him visibly bite back his words.
Tensions are no longer as high between them as the years move on from Jin Guangyao’s death, but Jiang Cheng already knows they will never return to the comfort of those old days. The only thing keeping them from fighting now is that sour face they each make when holding back what they’re actually thinking. It’s exhausting, but at least they’re coexisting.
Wei Wuxian leaves after stalling for another half an hour by bringing up scattered pieces of advice for Jiang Cheng—to keep an tabs on the state of his body and his mind, reminding him again how no one has tried this before so he has to be extra cautious, to make sure he wakes himself up if it’s too overwhelming. When he finally runs out of things to nag about, he walks back out to Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng watches them fly off.
He knows his brother enough to understand that Wei Wuxian regrets leaving this task to Jiang Cheng. Both of them know that Nie Huaisang’s health and wellbeing is critical to the balance of the cultivation world, especially as the Unclean Realm attempts to transition away from the head cultivator tradition that was established by the Wens on top of efforts to rework their own sect leader selection system. It is truly one of the worst times possible for a qi deviation—but Jiang Cheng has a distant memory of Nie Huaisang talking about how the qi deviations that run in his family don’t wait for anyone.
He’s not excited about this either. They had once gotten along well enough to call each other close friends, but those years are long gone. When was the last time they even spoke? He’ll surely be rejected by Nie Huaisang the same way that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were. He can’t understand any reason why Nie Huaisang’s subconscious would trust him enough to let him pass, but given that he’s the next natural option when considering the line of active, powerful cultivators, it’s a given that he has to do his part. There’s also Jin Ling, of course—if the power balance was truly overturned at such a volatile point in time, then there was no sect in more danger than that of his young nephew’s.
Jiang Cheng places the charm neatly under his pillow before he goes to sleep that night. When he opens his eyes, the world is black and empty.
It works. Nie Huaisang has let him in.
.
It is near-impossible to breathe. Jiang Cheng fights the urge to gag and takes slow, deep breaths—he has no weapons on him and, after a quick test, his spiritual powers are ineffective. It’s too dark to see anything but the ground is solid beneath his feet, so he walks.
It feels like an hour of walking indiscriminately in the darkness until he sees a quick flit of light.
A sharp cut of pain in his abdomen. He inhales sharply and reaches out to grab the blade digging into his side before it pulls out.
The darkness lifts—soon, its enough for Jiang Cheng to make out a heap on the ground. There’s a pale hand, shaking around a hilt. Jiang Cheng looks down at the blade and recognizes it as a saber. The cut into his side is shallow. When he lets go, the saber clatters onto the ground. He bends down.
It’s too dark for him to make out Nie Huaisang’s face, but it couldn’t be anyone else. His hair and clothes are in wild disarray. When Jiang Cheng bends close enough, he stirs.
“Don’t come—” Nie Huaisang whispers, his voice hoarse. He pulls in on himself.
Jiang Cheng isn’t sure how this is supposed to work. “Hey, it’s time to wake up,” he tries.
Something shifts at Nie Huaisang’s side, just barely covered by his robes. Jiang Cheng frowns and reaches out to check what it is—
A blur. Nie Huaisang shoots up into a sitting position and snatches the saber off of the ground.
Jiang Cheng tastes the blood in his throat before he feels the pain in his stomach. He doubles over, hands clutching around the saber that’s suddenly plunged deep into his body, far enough that he can feel the exit wound grow and grow as Nie Huaisang twists the blade.
It’s finally bright enough for him to see the mad glint of Nie Huaisang’s irises, to see the dust and tears mottled on his cheeks.
“Touch me and die,” Nie Huaisang hisses, his eyes glowing red.
Jiang Cheng wakes up in a cold sweat.
.
“He let you in?” Wei Wuxian asks, eyes wide. “He really let you in? Why?”
Jiang Cheng shakes his head. He doesn’t know. Since he woke up he couldn’t get out of his head the vision of Nie Huaisang’s eyes, red and bottomless and vicious.
He can practically hear Wei Wuxian thinking so he takes the initiative to say, “I’m doing it again tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll let you know if I find out anything new.”
.
That same darkness, that same path.
Jiang Cheng walks it prepared this time. He can feel the energy around Sandu humming in his hands. Zidian is around his finger as well, though the slight amount of light that usually emanates from the ring is absorbed by the torpid darkness.
He remembers Wei Wuxian’s words of caution in his head—for him to not harm Nie Huaisang, as any image of him that Jiang Cheng sees in these dreams is surely pieces of the original—but all it means is that he can’t attack to kill. To maim should be fine if it’s in moderation. And Jiang Cheng can’t afford to be launched back out.
It feels longer, this time, before the darkness starts to lift.
Nie Huaisang is waiting for him. The energy around him is corrupt and dark, and Jiang Cheng can tell that he’s unstable in his stance. A saber is glinting in his hand, unsheathed. There is still something small on the ground next to him.
“Someone’s here?” he mumbles. “Is someone here?”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t respond. He draws closer.
Nie Huaisang looks up and spots him. His lips pull up suddenly into a grin that makes Jiang Cheng stop and lay a hand on Sandu.
“Sect leader Jiang is somewhere he shouldn’t be,” he says.
“I came here to see you.”
“I don’t want to see anyone.”
Jiang Cheng thinks about how it’s a little too late for that. “Nie Huaisang,” he says, instead, “It’s time to wake up.”
Nie Huaisang doesn’t comment and, instead, takes a careful step over the bundle at his feet and starts walking towards him. He raises his saber.
“I didn’t let you in. Who let you in?”
“You did,” Jiang Cheng says, “No one else is here.”
Nie Huaisang stops, right in front of him, close enough for Jiang Cheng to see the inhuman white in his skin. His eyes snap back immediately to the bundle before turning around slowly back to Jiang Cheng. They’re deep crimson.
Jiang Cheng reacts immediately. It’s Nie Huaisang’s dream so it’s clear that Jiang Cheng doesn’t have the upper hand. Sandu snaps out of its sheath to counter Nie Huaisang’s saber in time. It distracts him enough that he almost doesn’t see the other blade coming for his neck until it glints—even then, he barely has enough time to awaken Zidian and snap it away.
This time, the dark acquiesces to Zidian’s light and the world around them is suddenly lit. Jiang Cheng realizes they’re in an old, decrepit room. The dulled gold paneling and high ceilings make it look like it was once a grand hall.
He’s distracted from his staring by the sound of Sandu shooting forward to counter the two sabers. Nie Huaisang holds them both in his hands. Despite the fact that the dream makes him faster than in real life, his movements are messy, the mark of someone who’s familiar but not fluent in fighting. Jiang Cheng judges how many moves he’ll need. He calls Sandu back to his hand and charges forward.
He’s over-generous in his estimate—thirty-two instead of fifty moves later and both sabers are knocked from Nie Huaisang’s hands onto the ground with only minimal wounds on either of them. Jiang Cheng confiscates the weapons and kneels down to Nie Huaisang’s level. Nie Huaisang is near-collapsed, his limbs shaking as one of his hands presses against his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Jiang Cheng asks, reaching forward to try and pry Nie Huaisang’s hands away from his face.
Nie Huaisang knocks his hands away. “Don’t touch me.”
The difference between this Nie Huaisang and the Nie Huaisang that Jiang Cheng recognizes is too stark. This one looks too murderous and cold, eyes closed against the world, tears trickling out from underneath. But then again, what is Nie Huaisang like? He’s pretty sure that there’s no one person that could answer that question confidently.
Jiang Cheng tries again. This time he manages to grip Nie Huaisang’s shoulder. “Get up, you need to calm down. If you calm down, I’m sure your head will stop hurting.”
“Don’t touch me!” Nie Huaisang yells again, louder this time. The air drops a few degrees. There is depth to his voice when he shouts, like there are dozens of ghosts and shadows screaming with him.
Jiang Cheng is not a stranger to the supernatural and feels nothing more than mild irritation. He tries again.
“I’m here to help you, you know. Can you—”
Nie Huaisang reacts too fast, shoving Jiang Cheng with enough force to make him fall back. When Jiang Cheng looks up again, he realizes that there’s something darker mixed into Nie Huaisang’s tears.
Blood. They fall too quickly down his cheeks and begin to fill the room, pooling in puddles that connect into wide, sloughing currents. The scent in the air changes in seconds, becoming metallic. Jiang Cheng stumbles as it starts climbing up his legs, staining his clothes.
When Nie Huaisang screams, his mouth opens wide.
“I said I don’t need help!”
.
It is hard to wake up in the morning. Jiang Cheng feels a surprising amount of soreness in his limbs. The headache, which reminds him of those young days drinking with Wei Wuxian, doesn’t go away until after he eats.
.
The same darkness, the same fight. Except this time, after the sabers are knocked aside, Nie Huaisang’s hands close around his head and the dark flickers—
Jiang Cheng is standing in the middle of a sea of enormous columns of flames, tall enough to breach the sky.
He is suddenly small and shaking and terrified, and when he takes a few steps forward and looks around he recognizes the buildings burning around him as his home. There are carcasses strewn everywhere, saturating the air with scents of blood and the sourness of burning flesh. He doesn’t know but rather can sense that no one and nothing is alive, aside from him.
Something on the ground catches at his feet and he trips. It’s a slender but muscular arm with sword-calloused hands, one to a pair that once held him many years ago and swung him around in the air like they loved him.
Jiang Cheng opens his mouth and screams—but the air warps, swallowing the sound.
The silence and the crackling of the fires feel like daggers on his skin, pushing down into his limbs and bursting his veins and creeping towards his heart like ice water. It feels like drowning from the inside out, like his body is rejecting itself, and he scratches at his arms with small hands and chipped nails hoping to break the skin and drain out his own blood.
Suddenly, it’s warm.
Something pulls his hands off himself. The world tilts and shifts—he’s being picked up by someone and he latches onto them out of instinct. A hand presses against the back of his head, pressing his face into their neck. The silence is suddenly broken by words being whispered into his ear. He doesn’t understand what they say, but the fires begin to grow dimmer and dimmer.
It feels like an eternity passes with him clinging to this person. The smell off their robes soothes him and a distant corner of his mind stirs in recognition.
“You’re okay—shh—I’m here now, they won’t hurt you—”
The voice is Nie Huaisang’s. Jiang Cheng snaps immediately into lucidity.
He hears a yelp before he tumbles onto the ground—his realization had pushed him to return his actual form and Nie Huaisang had collapsed under his sudden weight.
They scramble back upright as Jiang Cheng reorients himself, still looking around as memories piece themselves back together in his head.
They had been dreaming—he had been guarding Nie Huaisang’s nightmares—and something must have gone wrong. How did they get pulled out of Nie Huaisang’s dream and into his? Even in his lucidity, the scent of burnt flesh permeates the air, reminding him of the corpses of his parents.
“What’s going on?” Nie Huaisang asks. His eyes are wide and he’s looking at Jiang Cheng in a way that indicates he’s lucid as well. This is the first time this has happened since Jiang Cheng entered his dreams. A more distant part of Jiang Cheng notes how nice this is. It’s been months since they’d last seen each other. “You were a child and all of the fires—was that Lotus Pier?”
“It was,” Jiang Cheng says. He tests something out—the air around them changes suddenly. The fires and smoke are gone. Instead, they’re sitting at the edge of one of the smaller piers, distant from the center of the city. It’s a memory from a completely different time, when everything is peaceful and the water is a clear, glassy green.
Jiang Cheng turns and marvels at how accurate it is, down to the scent of the air. He takes a few deep breaths and feels the darkness in his chest float out, dissipating in the noon sun. It’s so strange how emotions in dreams come and go so freely, with none of the long ruminations of the waking world.
The sky is blue and peaceful. When the wind blows by, it tumbles Nie Huaisang’s hair around his face.
“Are you—am I in your dream?”
“I think you are.”
Jiang Cheng tests it out again. A plate of sweets appears on the ground. They’re the small, lotus-shaped ones that his sister always loved making, exactly as he remembers them.
They sit down at the edge of the pier and share the plate as Jiang Cheng thinks of what to do. Nie Huaisang likes them a lot, gushes about how it’s nice that they’re not too sweet, and nibbles on without any of the urgency that Jiang Cheng feels as he begins to explain the situation.
As Jiang Cheng continues talking, Nie Huaisang gradually stops his cheerful act. He looks out into the water, face unreadable, half-eaten sweet dangling from his fingers.
“You’ve been asleep for a while now,” Jiang Cheng says.
Something in Nie Huaisang’s face changes, but Jiang Cheng can’t read it. “I’m going to die.”
“You won’t. Do you really not remember anything from any of the dreams?”
Nie Huaisang shakes his head. “How many days?”
“Almost two weeks now, I think.”
“I’m dying,” he repeats, quieter this time. He realizes something and asks, “Why are we in your dream? Didn’t you say you’d always be entering mine?”
That’s a good question. Jiang Cheng has no idea. He doesn’t like that he has no idea and mumbles, “I’ll ask Wei Wuxian when I wake up.”
“Hmm.” Nie Huaisang looks down at the sweet and rubs at the edges. Crumbs fall down into the water.
“What are you thinking about?” Jiang Cheng asks.
Nie Huaisang smiles and shakes his head again. It looks innocent, but Jiang Cheng feels a hint of old concern and a sense of responsibility for Nie Huaisang’s next words.
“It’s not hopeless. You can’t give up. The Unclean Realm has been struggling without you.” Nie Huaisang opens his mouth, but Jiang Cheng barrels over him. “Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are helping. This was their plan, to put you to sleep to slow the qi deviation. They play for you at least once a day, and I come help whenever I’m sleeping at night.” Nie Huaisang tries again, so Jiang Cheng talks even faster. “Your nightmares have already started getting better. Look, aren’t we talking? If you give up now, you’ll be wasting all of our efforts.”
Finally the mask breaks, even if it’s only a little. Nie Huaisang looks annoyed. He throws the sweet at Jiang Cheng, who swats it away into the water.
“It’s hopeless. There’s never been a case in my family of it reversing once it begins. Your efforts are already wasted.”
“You want us to just let you die?”
Nie Huaisang doesn’t respond. Waves have started to grow on the water—Jiang Cheng realizes that it’s the same as when Nie Huaisang’s misery had flooded a room with blood. He takes a few deep breaths. The water calms.
“What have you seen in these dreams?” Nie Huaisang asks.
A hard question. “Just you. We just fought a few times. I think you were protecting something. I actually didn’t even know you could fight.” Jiang Cheng tries to keep his response vague on purpose and realizes he’s done a bad job when Nie Huaisang’s face visibly sours.
“You shouldn’t have seen that.”
“You don’t even know what I’ve seen.”
“You shouldn’t have entered my dreams without my permission.”
“Why? Are you hiding something?”
Nie Huaisang glares at him. This is a little closer to the Nie Huaisang that Jiang Cheng remembers from his childhood. Not because of the anger—Nie Huaisang never had many reasons to be angry back then—but because of the unapologetic and careless way his feelings hang on his features.
“Fine, fine, fine. I won’t pry,” Jiang Cheng says. Funny enough, his mood feels a little lighter.
They finish the plate of sweets. Jiang Cheng wakes up with the taste still on his tongue. It’s a little sad, realizing that Nie Huaisang likely won’t be lucid the next time.
.
“You pulled him into your dream?”
“Not on purpose.”
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchange a glance that makes Jiang Cheng feel very left out, but he crosses his arms and waits for them to grace him with their wisdom.
“That’s not good,” Lan Wangji finally says.
“Is it not? But he was lucid. You said that if he was lucid, then he’s getting better.”
“No. Because it’s your dream. You were always lucid in his dreams, weren’t you? It’s the same concept.” Wei Wuxian sighs and chews at his bottom lip, looking out the window as he thinks. Lan Wangji reaches over to take his hand and Jiang Cheng pretends like he sees nothing. “The problem is that this means the boundary between the two of your souls is eroding.”
“That sounds…” Jiang Cheng trails off but his mind fills in, ‘unnecessarily romantic.’
“Yeah, it’s not good,” Wei Wuxian repeats. He turns to Lan Wangji and says, quieter, “We should stop.”
It wasn’t quiet enough for Jiang Cheng to not hear. “No, we’re going to keep going.”
“If the boundary is eroding then there’s a high chance that your soul is likely already becoming damaged. You’ll have to keep an eye on your emotions, too. His heart is too unstable right now—”
“It’s fine, I can stand it. Didn’t you say this was the only way he could be saved?” He remembers the way that Nie Huaisang had looked out onto the water. “He’s getting better.”
Wei Wuxian looks conflicted. Jiang Cheng recognizes that look on his brother’s face—it’s the face that he always has right before he proposes something reckless bordering disastrous. But even Wei Wuxian can’t do anything about it this time—the only person that Nie Huaisang trusts enough to let into his heart, apparently, is Jiang Cheng. The rest of them are helpless.
It’s weird for him to hold all of the power when compared to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. But it also feels good. Almost addicting.
There are no alternatives. They continue.
.
Jiang Cheng glances upwards. Tonight he’s standing in a forest clearing in the middle of the night. The stars are sharp above him, glinting like daggers, black shadowed leaves framing the moon. The air is warmer than on the other nights and he doesn’t feel as much apprehension.
Like all the other nights, he has to find Nie Huaisang. This time when he finds him, he stops in surprise.
There is a child, crouched in a patch of moonlight, digging into the ground with a stick. It takes a while to recognize him. It has been decades since Jiang Cheng’s seen Nie Huaisang at that age—he looks no older than five or six, judging by the roundness of his cheeks and the way his big eyes reflect in the light. He looks satisfied digging his little hole and doesn’t look up when he hears Jiang Cheng approach.
“Nie Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng asks, just to be sure.
The child jumps and falls backward. He looks up and brightens.
“Hello! Can you help me?”
Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what else to do other than crouch down. “What do you need help with?” He realizes that he really should have asked Wei Wuxian about more details on how to wake Nie Huaisang up. His improvising hasn’t really worked out for him so far.
“I’m digging a hole.” Nie Huaisang looks away from his work to pat at the ground around him.
“For what?”
Jiang Cheng is handed a stick. At a loss of what else to do, he starts half-heartedly digging at the hole as well.
“I hid something here. But I think someone took it away.”
“What did you hide?”
“It’s a secret.”
The air starts shifting. Jiang Cheng feels the hairs on his arms raise the more progress that they make, but he continues to dig with Nie Huaisang. A few minutes later, they reach something solid. Something black tangles around his stick.
“Move back,” Jiang Cheng orders. The young Nie Huaisang obeys, letting him crouch down over the hole and dig with his hands.
It doesn’t take much time before it’s unearthed. When Jiang Cheng realizes what it is, he shudders. He immediately starts pushing dirt back over it.
“Is it still there?” Nie Huaisang’s voice pipes up from behind him.
“It is,” Jiang Cheng says. “I’ll rebury it for you.”
“But I want to see first.”
“No. It’s not for children.”
“I’m not a child.”
The voice is different. The air drops another few degrees.
Jiang Cheng turns around to see Nie Huaisang returned to his original age, eyes unfocused as they stare at the partially-covered hole. He pushes Jiang Cheng aside with more strength than he would normally have and reaches in with his own hands to dig up the object.
His brother’s head.
Despite being covered in dirt and being buried for who knows how long, it still looks pristine. There are no bugs eating away at it. The expression on it is still cold and cruel like he’s cursing the world.
Nie Huaisang’s fingers begin to shake from where they’re digging into the decapitated head. Jiang Cheng is unable to read his expression—his hair curtains around his face, hiding it from view—but he watches Nie Huaisang bend over it and start whispering something that’s too low and quiet for Jiang Cheng to hear.
Jiang Cheng remembers the dream from the night before, of the way that he had shifted the scene. He remembers Wei Wuxian’s words, of the boundaries between their souls thinning. They’re not in his dream this time, but he wonders if it might work similarly.
He tests it out again.
It’s difficult to exude calm while watching Nie Huaisang accumulate dirt and blood on his fingers from clutching at his dead brother’s head, but the calm does come. The night begins to drain away, the color of the sky diluting more and more until it begins to look like the streaks of dark just before the dawn. Jiang Cheng takes another deep breath and closes his eyes slowly. It’s harder than when he was doing it in his own dream.
When he opens them again, they’re back on the pier by the water.
Nie Huaisang has moved to lean against him heavily. He’s leaving a damp patch on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. His brother is gone.
“Do you feel better?” Jiang Cheng tries asking.
Nie Huaisang laughs. He shakes his head. Jiang Cheng nods. He was expecting this, he guesses.
“Then we’ll try again tomorrow.”
.
It’s Lan Wangji’s decision to move him. The theory is that if they don’t use the charm anymore and instead count on proximity to connect Jiang Cheng into Nie Huaisang’s dreams, then there’s a chance that the damages afflicted onto both of them will be reduced. Something about going directly to the source himself. Wei Wuxian hates the idea and, though he doesn’t say anything in front of Jiang Cheng, it’s easy for anyone to tell that he’s upset.
Nie Huaisang is brought to Lotus Pier. When Jiang Cheng sees him again, for the first time in months, he’s surprised by how unassuming he looks while asleep. The set of Nie Huaisang’s face makes him look like he’s enjoying nothing more than a lazy nap, lips parted in such a way that they could easily slide into a grimace and a plead for help with some nonsense task. But when Jiang Cheng raises a hand to his brow, it burns through his palm.
“You’ll have to sleep as close as possible to ensure the connection, but it probably won’t be a problem now. Since your souls have grown so close,” Wei Wuxian says. The cheeriness and clarity to his voice are gone, has been draining steadily the past few days from watching Jiang Cheng wake up more and more tired each morning, and he is clearly moping. “You’re more vulnerable now than before, so you absolutely have to be more careful.”
“You don’t have to tell me that, I already know.”
Wei Wuxian turns away. “Fine.”
Something about the movement reminds Jiang Cheng of many years ago, before he lost his brother for the first time. It makes him clear his throat loud enough for Wei Wuxian to look back at him.
“I promise I’ll wake back up,” he says, doing his best to sound as earnest as he can without embarrassing himself.
It’s enough. Wei Wuxian smiles.
“You’re promising? You must be pretty confident then. If that’s the case, then I’ll hold you to it.”
And he closes the door behind him.
.
Whose nightmare is it? Jiang Cheng can’t tell—when he enters he feels like he no longer has as much control over his lucidity as before. Everything is blended into an ugly and dusty red, interspersed with the searing white of fire or bones.
Tonight he is standing at the top of a mound of bodies. He can barely feel his limbs. His arms are limp at his side.
Zidian burns like a brand into his finger and he hates it. It doesn’t look nearly as good on him as it had on his mother. She would be so angry if she saw him with it.
He raises Sandu and places the sharp of the blade over his wrist. He lifts it—
And his hand is caught by another. Someone sweeps his hair over his shoulder.
“Don’t.”
He doesn’t pay them any mind and tries again. Sandu is wrenched, gentle, from his fingers. When it’s flung to the side, he follows it with his eyes to watch it sink into the chest of a small child in the robes of the Wen sect. Malicious satisfaction burns in his heart.
Another hand over his brow, down his cheek. “Don’t.”
“It’s not enough yet,” Jiang Cheng hears himself say.
“No, it’s fine now.”
“It’s not enough yet.”
The voice that comes out of him is barely recognizable. It’s dead and expressionless.
The hand is resting against his neck now. He can feel it shaking.
“You’re dreaming. It’s time to wake up.”
The world is tinted red, but when he looks up he can still make out Nie Huaisang’s expression. If he was in his right mind, he would notice that Nie Huaisang looks scared and unsure.
“It’s not enough yet.”
A few jolts and something unsettles. The air warms and it no longer chills at his bones. There’s a scent in the air. Red pine.
Nie Huaisang exhales and Jiang Cheng realizes, in this moment, how unsteady he’s standing. He remembers where he is. The lucidity makes it easier to acknowledge his own emotions.
“You have to help me too, you know,” Nie Huaisang says.
It takes a few minutes of breathing before the bodies disappear. A few more before the skies clear again. Zidian is silent on his finger.
.
Sleeping closer does make a difference. When Jiang Cheng wakes up this time, he barely feels any soreness. It is disconcerting waking up next to Nie Huaisang in bed, but he supposes this will also grow familiar to him, in time.
He does find out from others, later, that there’s another possible cause for him feeling better in the mornings. According to some of his disciples, they could all hear the soft lilt of Chenqing from their quarters, playing steadily throughout the night.
.
“I never asked you,” Jiang Cheng says suddenly one night, in one of Nie Huaisang’s moments of lucidity. They are sitting at a table and trying to remember all of their favorite dishes from their respective pasts, drawing up the memories and making them appear. It’s all part of a competition to see who has had better food in their lifetime. The tabletop and the floor around them are littered with bowls and plates.
Nie Huaisang looks up from his chopsticks. “What?”
“Why could I get into your dreams? No one else could.”
He can feel Nie Huaisang pull away reflexively at the question, but his own mind betrays him. Half of the room falls away to reveal sharp ledges and a summer day. Jiang Cheng turns and pinpoints the scene to be on one of the mountains around the Cloud Recesses. Colorful little bodies are moving around in the forest—Jiang Cheng can recognize them as their younger selves.
The image flickers immediately and would have disappeared if Jiang Cheng didn’t reach across the table to cover Nie Huaisang’s hand with his own, saying, “Wait—” It’s enough to surprise Nie Huaisang to keep it going.
The scene is silent. Neither of them can hear any speech, but that’s not the point. Jiang Cheng watches the way that Wei Wuxian’s eyes glaze through Nie Huaisang, how everyone else’s does as well, except for those of his younger self. He watches them turn and smile at each other, watches his younger self laugh at something Nie Huaisang says, shove at his shoulder. He wishes he could remember the conversation.
“This is so embarrassing,” Nie Huaisang mutters, covering his face with his other hand.
“It’s not. It’s because we were friends?”
“It’s probably not just that.”
Jiang Cheng can’t see his eyes at all with the way that Nie Huaisang has his hand splayed over his brow.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s okay. I don’t even really know myself. But I can probably guess.” Nie Huaisang turns a bowl that’s close to him. “Give me some time to think about it.”
.
He starts to delegate work. The dreams are leaving him exhausted during the day, to the point where he can no longer lead trainings or attend meetings.
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are put up in rooms in Lotus Pier. The three of them take their meals together, sometimes, back in the old courtyard tables that they ate at when they were little. Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if it’s his imagination or not, but Wei Wuxian feels more familiar these days. It reminds him of the old days. He is very careful to not let himself get too excited.
Wei Wuxian has also changed. He’s quieter now. He only pesters Jiang Cheng half-heartedly about taking breaks on certain nights to sleep in a different room, as if he’s already given in.
.
Water up to his thighs. This is a familiar feeling for Jiang Cheng. It makes him panic.
He feels down into the water around him. His fingers meet shapes—a skull, a femur, a rib. Skeletons both intact and not are soaked and drifting, white in the deep blue waves. The panic grows.
It is ages before his fingers meet fabric. Jiang Cheng pulls.
Nie Huaisang comes up to the surface, his lips parted and eyelids pressed firmly closed, skin almost too blue to be alive.
Jiang Cheng pulls him into his arms as the water swells around them. His clothes are growing heavier, the waves sucking at his legs, as the water climbs up his waist. But there is peace when he’s tucked against Nie Huaisang’s neck, swaddled in the scent of red pine.
It’s is only for a moment. He hears laughter and pulls back.
“You’re so stupid, A-Cheng. You thought you could save me?”
The robes fold around his grip, empty. He stands, alone, in the sea of bones.
.
“He’s not here anymore.”
Jiang Cheng watches the little Nie Huaisang dig with his stick. The hole has expanded into what can only be called a large pit, too dark for him to make much out with only the dull moonlight. They’re both at the bottom, Jiang Cheng standing and watching the child and feeling overwhelmingly hopeless. They have had this dream many times. Even after this many tries, he still doesn’t know what to do. He can’t bring Nie Mingjue back. Even if it’s only in a dream, it would be a lie.
He bends down instead and gathers Nie Huaisang in his arms. “Okay,” he says, as the child latches on to him. “Shh. Let’s take a break.”
“Someone took him.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Why would anyone take him? Do they hate me?”
Nie Huaisang starts crying. It’s loud and echoes in the forest. Jiang Cheng sits down against the side of the pit and bounces him in his arms, patting his back. He hasn’t done this since Jin Ling was a child, but the motions come back to him easily.
“I don’t know. But I don’t hate you.” He pulls back to press a kiss to Nie Huaisang’s brow. The child settles.
A few minutes later and his breathing slows.
Another moment passes—Nie Huaisang has returned to his normal age. He leans on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder and Jiang Cheng rests a hand on his head.
“Better?”
“...Maybe.”
He suddenly remembers something while patting at Nie Huaisang’s head.
“I’ve been meaning to ask. One of the sabers is—”
“Yes. My brother’s.”
“I didn’t know you could fight with it.”
Nie Huaisang is silent. He shifts in Jiang Cheng’s arms—Jiang Cheng makes to remove his hand but Nie Huaisang catches it and places it back on his head for him to continue.
“Then you can’t?” Jiang Cheng asks.
“I’ve never touched it before in real life. I’ve barely touched any weapons, you know this about me.”
Jiang Cheng realizes something. “Wait, if you never actually cultivated with your saber, then how—?” He stops because there is truly no good way to phrase the question. Thankfully, Nie Huaisang catches on.
“I know. I thought I was stopping the qi deviation, too, when I chose not to use my saber,” he says, quiet. “Our cultivation style does speed it up, but I suppose the predisposition is still there. If I had always known...well, I probably still wouldn’t have practiced. I don’t like fighting.” He pauses and tilts his head. “My brother really would kill me if he saw me with Baxia now.”
Jiang Cheng hums. It’s too hard to comfort Nie Huaisang—and he knows him well enough to know that he doesn’t want to hear any cheap sympathy. He continues patting his head instead.
“You never know. The two of us together might be able to stand a chance.”
“Don’t joke about that,” Nie Huaisang says. “We wouldn’t.” Jiang Cheng shrugs.
“Then I’ll hold him off while you run.”
“I’m a slow runner.” The hand on Nie Huaisang’s head moves to flick him in the forehead. Nie Huaisang laughs. “What? It’s the truth.”
“You have to contribute somehow.”
“I’ll talk him down.”
The air around them changes and they’re suddenly back in the temple—the last time either of them ever saw Nie Mingjue, brought there by the memory of how no one there could talk him down. The warmth in Jiang Cheng’s arms is gone and he stands up.
The dream is distorted. He thinks it’s Nie Huaisang standing across from him, but he can’t make out the features. His face distorts whenever Jiang Cheng tries to focus in on his features—everything is blurred except his mouth, spread wide into a cruel grin.
“I know what you’re feeling. I can tell what you’re starting to feel for me.”
Jiang Cheng’s head feels fuzzy. He can’t think clearly. “What?”
“I’m afraid I have to ask you to stop.” A laugh. “I don’t want to end up like all those others that you loved.”
.
“This was a terrible idea, they’re just pulling each other down into their own resentment.”
Jiang Cheng hears the muffled sound of speech through the walls. He isn’t ready to open his eyes yet. It has been years since he’s felt this exhausted—like all of his limbs are sealed down onto the bed.
Softer mumbling that Jiang Cheng can’t make out, followed by—“I couldn’t have known...if I had known he would also...well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Nie Huaisang’s only alive because of him at this point.”
He feels at his side. The simple movement strains his muscles enough to where his entire arm burns.
“Then what? He won’t make it to the end of the week. If we have to choose—”
It takes a while of patting before he reaches Nie Huaisang’s hand. It feels a little warmer—or maybe it’s just his that’s colder.
“No, I’m not going to...not letting him die.”
He wonders which of them Wei Wuxian is talking about. Before he comes to a conclusion, he drifts off again.
.
He is surrounded by a sea of bone and tissue. Everything in the world is stark red, down to the red moon that laps at the edge of the horizon.
Neither of them is lucid this time. To Jiang Cheng, this world looks like the innermost corner of his heart, down to the way that hands reach up from murky waters and grab at him, tugging at his clothes, pulling him towards the waves. He knows, without looking closely, that these are all of the people that he’s killed in this lifetime. He has always known that this would be the last sight that he sees.
There is something that is burning its way through his chest, down through his ribs, dissolving away his heart.
His eyes struggle to focus on the figure across from him. Nie Huaisang, on his knees, hacking away at something in the water with his two sabers. If Jiang Cheng had the ability to wade over to look, he would see Jin Guangyao partially submerged there in the water, mutilated to where he’s unrecognizable as anything more than shredded flesh.
If he came even closer than that, he would be able to see the way that gold tendrils of Baxia’s hilt grow deep into Nie Huaisang’s hands, threading around his bones, creeping to root in his veins.
Jiang Cheng feels the burning in his chest grow. It is starting to become too much. He feels an urge to dig his fingers in and claw into the space between his ribs and tear out the golden core he’s never asked for.
Nie Huaisang’s eyes snap up to meet his. He’s crying blood again. It streaks past his face and down his neck. All of his misery hits Jiang Cheng at once, like a colossal wave.
Nie Huaisang’s hatred for this world is immense. Combined with his own, it’s overwhelming.
A bloody hand slaps over his mouth and drags him under.
.
Nie Huaisang finally has his answer. They are back in that same room, surrounded by the same food spread out on the table and the ground. Their rice has grown cold. Grains have dried up on the tips of their chopsticks and on the table like small pebbles.
“In this world, it is very hard to read intentions,” Nie Huaisang says. His voice is growing quieter. Shadows pass by the window with the low hum of conversation—Jiang Cheng doesn’t see but knows that it’s the voices of Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen. “I’ve always hated those fights for power. I never realized how depraved people could be.” Nie Huaisang smiles. “But you...you’re kind of simple.”
“Hey.”
It’s been years since Jiang Cheng has heard Nie Huaisang laugh—not his controlled laughter, but the breathy cackles that he remembers from their youth.
“You’re too harsh,” Jiang Cheng mutters. He tries to look severe but can’t help but smile. That laughter is as contagious as he remembers it to be.
Nie Huaisang waves his hand. “Simple is good.” Some of his mirth fades. “I always trusted you. I don’t think even I realized how much, but it makes sense.” He watches Jiang Cheng’s face before continuing, “I know that you probably don’t feel the same.”
Is he really that easy to read? Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if it’s just his face or if it’s because their melded dreamscape makes it difficult to hide things from each other. He turns to the side and realizes it may be a bit of both—there is a black cat nailed to the wall of the room.
Now’s as good a time as any. “Would you really have let him die?”
Nie Huaisang answers without hesitation, “Yes.”
The anger is immediate.
The sky darkens as clouds roll in, but another few beats and a breeze has already blown them away. Jiang Cheng feels his hostility dull with them. Their dreams are so strange—though it’s nothing more than Nie Huaisang clearing the skies, Jiang Cheng feels the encroaching calm mirrored in his heart, the scent of red pine soothing his nerves.
“Are you sorry?”
“No. I would do it again if I needed to.”
Jiang Cheng can’t look at him. The tenuous calm that Nie Huaisang is maintaining is starting to crack, overwhelmed by Jiang Cheng’s fury. The food around them starts rotting away, rapidly.
“I can’t lie to you here, you would find out anyway,” Nie Huaisang says, noticing this.
“You would have lied to me if we were awake?”
“Yes,” Nie Huaisang repeats, “Because I don’t want you to be upset with me.”
Jiang Cheng snorts. “You are being honest.”
“Because I always thought you’d understand, even though I knew you’d be angry.” Nie Huaisang pulls his hand away from Jiang Cheng’s—Jiang Cheng had already forgotten that they had been touching until he feels the warmth gone from underneath his fingers. “Because I always thought that you hated the games they play as much as I do. I just wanted them to stop. If Jin Ling had actually died—”
Just hearing that is too painful. Jiang Cheng shakes his head and raises a hand for Nie Huaisang to stop. He can feel the tension in the air—from Nie Huaisang working hard to regulate the world around them, to keep it together as Jiang Cheng starts to slip—and tries to calm himself to help.
A small cooing sound. A baby tries to crawl into his lap, its chubby arms pressing at his legs, pretty round eyes staring up at Jiang Cheng as a little bit of spittle gathers at its mouth. Jiang Cheng wipes at it and before pulling Jin Ling into his lap and grabbing a cold meat bun for him to play with. Jin Ling teethes on it, little legs kicking out in joy.
“I do hate the games,” Jiang Cheng finally says, calm enough to look back up at Nie Huaisang. “But that doesn’t mean I’d stoop to their level to play them. And Jin Ling isn’t someone you can gamble with.” A nagging voice in his head tells him to stop, but he doesn’t listen. “Not that I expect you to understand.”
Everything disappears. Jiang Cheng doesn’t react fast enough to override Nie Huaisang’s misery and they’re back in that familiar darkness of the decaying great hall—across from him, Nie Huaisang is doubled forward again, hands pressed to the ground.
Jiang Cheng moves to reach out to him but someone else beats him to it—a tall, well-built teenager with a face that looks simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar, hugging Nie Huaisang’s head to his chest and patting at the top of his head.
He watches the younger Nie Mingjue soothe Nie Huaisang with practiced ease that must have been how he was soothed as a young child. He remembers that Nie Huaisang does know what it feels like to have people that are precious to him.
He remembers Jin Guangyao and realizes that Nie Huaisang also knows what it feels like to be betrayed by them.
Then he remembers Wei Wuxian and his sister. He wakes up.
.
Lan Wangji’s expression doesn’t look good. Jiang Cheng pulls his wrist from his grip and straightens his sleeve. He already knows the words before they leave Lan Wangji’s mouth—can feel it, himself, in the way that his limbs continue to grow heavier every morning when he wakes up.
“Don’t go tonight.”
“You didn’t need to come to my room this early to say that,” Jiang Cheng says.
“I’m saying it,” Lan Wangji says, stubborn.
“I know it looks bad, but really, it’s okay.”
Lan Wangji’s gaze grows serious. “Very soon, you will lose more than your pride.”
“I won’t, but thank you.”
Lan Wangji closes his eyes. He looks like he’s given up. For some reason, it feels about as bad Wei Wuxian’s overwhelming concern.
.
Back in the great hall. Nie Huaisang is kneeling on the ground, pinning his younger self and glaring at him with hate in his eyes. The child is struggling and crying. Jiang Cheng realizes, from watching the two of them, that the child looks terribly similar to the bundle from the early dreams.
Nie Huaisang bends down. “Shut up,” he hisses. A saber is in his hands. When he slams it into the ground, the metallic clang makes the small child cry louder.
Jiang Cheng has become very good at this. He is able to gauge Nie Huaisang’s lucidity and the air around them with one glance. He steps forward. Both Nie Huaisangs turn to look at him, but only the child reaches out towards him.
“H-Help—”
Another clang. “Shut up. All you can do is cry, isn’t it?”
They didn’t spar much when they were younger, but in the past few days, Jiang Cheng has become more than accustomed to Nie Huaisang’s movements. And Nie Huaisang, admittedly, is as terrible at fighting as he'd remembered.
He’s able to dispatch him within a few seconds, even without Sandu. He checks the saber—Baxia, this time—before letting it dissolve away in his hands.
The older Nie Huaisang is pushed to the side. Jiang Cheng picks up the child and bounces him in his arms.
“Okay, okay, you’re fine,” he says, remembering the words that Nie Huaisang had said to him all those dreams ago. The small child is still shaking and crying but looks to be breathing a little easier. When Jiang Cheng holds him close, he smells of pine forests. “No one can hurt you now.”
The child manages to nod while sniffling and wiping at his nose with the back of his hands. Jiang Cheng uses his sleeve to help.
A voice speaks up behind him. “You don’t know that.”
Jiang Cheng turns to see the older Nie Huaisang slumped against one of the pillars in the great hall. It looks like he’s losing himself and draining into the ground, features and limbs streaking like wax and pooling into dull colors on the floor.
“Don’t know what?”
“That you’re not going to hurt him.”
Jiang Cheng sighs. One Nie Huaisang is already a handful. But two? He remembers Wei Wuxian’s words. Both of them are pieces of his original soul. It’s not like he could just neglect one for another. With this in mind, he walks over.
The child clings tighter around his neck in fear.
“It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”
The older Nie Huaisang snorts as Jiang Cheng crouches down next to him. “He’s lying to you.”
“You’ve told me before that I’m the one person you trust to not lie.”
Something in the older Nie Huaisang’s face changes. His features grow slightly clearer.
Jiang Cheng turns to the child in his arms again. “See? Not so scary, is he?” he asks. The younger Nie Huaisang is assessing his older counterpart, small hand in his mouth and eyes wide. He looks between the two of them.
“He doesn’t know anything,” the older Nie Huaisang says.
“He does.”
“Everything he knows is wrong.” There’s a bitter edge to his voice, but it sounds more controlled than before. His face no longer looks like it’s melting. He’s starting to wake up again.
“Why do you hate him so much?” Jiang Cheng asks.
The older Nie Huaisang looks away.
Jiang Cheng sighs and sits down next to him. After all of these dreams, he’s finally beginning to piece together the loop that they’ve been caught in. The child tries scrambling away but Jiang Cheng soothes him with a hand to his brow.
“There’s no point in hating him. He didn’t know.”
“Shut up.”
“He’s just a child.”
The older Nie Huaisang doesn’t respond.
The small child starts wriggling in his arms. Jiang Cheng lets go. Quietly, he climbs over into Nie Huaisang’s lap, looking up at him with wide eyes, before reaching up to rest his hands on his adult counterpart’s cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” he says.
The adult Nie Huaisang shakes his head.
“He doesn’t like seeing you sad,” Jiang Cheng says. “He’s just doing his best.”
“Shut up.” His voice is thicker and cracks at the end. Jiang Cheng finally realizes that Nie Huaisang’s glare isn’t hatred—it’s envy.
Strands of Nie Huaisang’s hair has fallen out over his face, so Jiang Cheng tucks them behind his ear. “If you want to be mad then be mad, but don’t blame him anymore.”
.
He doesn’t realize he’s back in Lotus Pier, burning to the ground, until the flames are already dulled and dispersed by a pine breeze.
Nie Huaisang takes his hand. He looks cautious when he starts to speak.
“This isn’t something you have to earn.” He traces over Zidian with a thumb. “All you have to do to be worthy is be your mother’s son.”
Jiang Cheng is lucid, but he’s tired. He closes his eyes and listens as Nie Huaisang’s voice washes over him.
“My guess is that a part of you doesn’t want to wake up because you don’t think you deserve to. I can tell you that I think that’s wrong, but I don’t think you’d hear it. I don’t think I can convince you to wake up. Maybe if Wei Wuxian was here—”
He trails off. Jiang Cheng wants to ask him to continue speaking. It could be nonsense, but he would still want to hear that voice. He’s never noticed how soothing it sounds.
“Well, anyway. I would miss you. Let me know if you don’t plan on waking up. Maybe I won’t either.”
.
Blood pools at the sides of the table and drips off of the corners. Jiang Cheng watches Nie Huaisang from across it and shifts his legs just enough so that he doesn’t get any blood on his clothes.
Two severed heads lean against each other at the middle of the table. Jin Guangyao is not a surprise. But—
“Lan Xichen, too?” Jiang Cheng asks, doing his best to make his voice even.
Nie Huaisang’s eyes are clear and hazy all at once, like he’s seeing something years and years away.
“I never should have trusted him.”
“That’s not your fault.”
Nie Huaisang shakes his head. “I should have known better by then.”
“It’s natural for children to trust those they like.”
“Then I shouldn’t have liked them.”
“You have no control over who you like.”
The scenery changes. It’s the Cloud Recesses this time.
Two small boys run by through the groves, hand in hand, neither of them older than seven. They’re giggling together, holding sticks, digging holes and collecting pretty rocks. When they reach up to brush their hair out of their faces, mud smudges onto their cheeks. Jiang Cheng only has a vague recollection of this summer. It blends too easily into other summers that he’s spent with Nie Huaisang in their youth, the ones when he had gone to study in the Cloud Recesses and Nie Mingjue had brought Nie Huaisang along to visit Lan Xichen.
They follow the children through games of catching dragonflies and peeling wild berries. Mulberries, like his namesake. They burst and leave dark stains on their faces that make their younger selves laugh. Nie Huaisang watches them with a complicated expression.
“Isn’t it sad?” he whispers. Jiang Cheng can feel the air tugging with Nie Huaisang’s melancholy and manages to catch it just in time to stabilize the scene.
“What?”
“Growing up.”
.
He’s only awake for a moment. In that moment, he thinks he hears something akin to music playing in the background—but it’s so distant and soft. Before he can place it, he’s asleep again.
.
He opens his mouth—it’s so hot that it feels like his lungs are melting when he screams, “Nie Huaisang!”
The world burning in Nie Huaisang’s dreams is so hot it’s near-white. It’s the apocalypse.
Nie Huaisang is whimpering, his fingers clutched tight around Jiang Cheng’s forearms and pressing down to the bone. Jiang Cheng can barely think straight—pain cuts deep under his skin from the flames. They catch on his robes, burn his skin colors he never could have imagined before. The only thing keeping him anchored and lucid is his sense of responsibility.
Nie Huaisang looks near-dead. His eyes are closed, blood seeping out from underneath his eyelids, clumping his eyelashes and staining his skin like red rivers, sneaking down to drip off of his cheek and dissipate in the flames. It feels like he’s worlds away.
Jiang Cheng grips his face, hard enough to where it must hurt. “Eyes on me!”
The flames lick higher. Charred hands emerge from the fires, clutching at them and trying to drag them under. Nie Huaisang doesn’t respond—his head rolls forward, almost as if passing out from the pain. Jiang Cheng can barely discern where their bodies end and the white flames begin. A terrible blankness starts creeping into his head, staining his consciousness. All of his efforts to calm the scene are useless.
“Huaisang! Eyes on me!” he yells again, his voice tearing.
There’s a reaction this time. Nie Huaisang inhales shakily, looking up enough to lock gazes with Jiang Cheng. The flames stutter. Jiang Cheng brushes some of the blood off of his cheeks.
It doesn’t help do anything aside from streak red over his skin, but Nie Huaisang leans into the touch. His eyes start sliding closed again.
“No—don’t—open your eyes!”
“Can’t—”
He pulls Nie Huaisang in close and presses a hand against the back of his head. With their proximity, it almost feels like their bodies are melding together from the heat. Jiang Cheng’s hand strokes against his forehead, what little energy and self-control he has left struggling to make his touch as gentle as possible while all of his muscles are screaming for him to contort away.
Nie Huaisang’s skin feels like a brand against his. The pain of burning alive is too intense.
Jiang Cheng holds him tighter.
“Breathe—slow—no, slower—”
It feels like years before the flames start dying down. They begin to burn less, feeling more like jagged scraping against his skin compared to the searing pain from before. Nie Huaisang has stopped shaking in Jiang Cheng’s arms, all of his attention focused on taking staggered breaths.
A deep inhale. The flames flicker red and orange instead of white.
“Good.”
An exhale. They shrink. The charred and numb feeling in his body is starting to go away with the flames.
“Really good.”
Another few breaths and the fires are dulled to embers on the ground. He leans in and presses a kiss to Nie Huaisang’s forehead.
One final flicker and the light dies out. The silence that follows is peaceful.
It’s dark, but different from the darkness that Jiang Cheng had experienced the first time he entered Nie Huaisang’s dreams. This one is filled with their uneven breaths. It’s softer.
With the last of the fire goes all the blood and the burns and now it’s only them, holding each other in the expanse.
.
They’re submerged again, but the bones and blood are gone. It’s deceptively peaceful. The water isn’t soothing on his skin, though—it digs at and numbs all of his nerves down to stumps. The only thing anchoring him to the world, at this point, is the warm hands cupping his cheeks.
Jiang Cheng’s mind betrays him. He doesn’t say the words out loud, but he knows that he doesn’t have to—both of them can hear them as if they’re echoing through the waves.
“If they loved me, then they wouldn’t have left.”
Nie Huaisang shakes his head. It makes his hair fan out around him.
“That’s not how it works.”
“Then where are they?”
Nie Huaisang reaches out and taps Jiang Cheng’s forehead, right in the middle. “Your father,” he mouths.
Jiang Cheng is suddenly glad that they are submerged in water because his eyes are burning.
“My mother?”
The finger drifts down, over his heart.
“You’re still their son. As long as you’re here, their work continues.”
“Then Wei Wuxian?”
A pause. It moves just slightly to the right—closer to the center of his chest. Jiang Cheng feels the core burn, as if in response. It’s the first time that its presence doesn’t fill him with disgust.
The water must be making him brave. It’s likely the only reason why Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and asks, “And you?”
When he looks again, Nie Huaisang is smiling. His finger is turned back to point at himself.
“Here,” he mouths.
.
Dazed. He feels so dazed. It’s almost over, he realizes. They’re coming to the end. He can feel it. That knowledge makes him tired and relieved.
They’re laying together in bed. The night is dark outside and the world around them is silent aside from their breathing. Nie Huaisang’s eyelids are growing heavy. Jiang Cheng can tell, from the way that he’s blinking slower.
“Is it time now?” he asks.
“Probably.”
“For us to wake up or to die?”
Jiang Cheng finds Nie Huaisang’s hand and holds it. “I’m not sure. I think it’s been a few days since I was last awake.”
Nie Huaisang sighs. It looks like he sinks deeper into the bed. “It’s okay if we don’t wake up.” Neither of them has the energy to change the scene anymore, but Jiang Cheng can still feel the familiar tinge of Nie Huaisang’s sadness creeping into his own heart.
“We should wake up.”
“Don’t want to.”
The sadness takes on a different tinge. This one Jiang Cheng recognizes almost too easily as loneliness.
“Everything will be the same,” he says aloud. Between us, he finishes in his head. There is no way for Nie Huaisang to read his thoughts, but he wonders if Nie Huaisang can feel the gentleness he feels when he thinks it.
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“The world is waiting for you.”
“You should know by now that I don’t care for the world.” Nie Huaisang’s eyes close for a beat too long. Jiang Cheng is on the brink of worrying when he smiles. “I was thinking that if this is what death is like, then it’s really not so bad.”
Hearing that makes Jiang Cheng miserable. “Don’t say things like that so carelessly,” he mumbles. It only takes a few moments before Nie Huaisang’s calm washes back over him. It’s such a familiar feeling now.
Nie Huaisang pauses. He asks suddenly, “What do you smell right now?”
The question surprises Jiang Cheng.
“Pine trees.”
“Hmm.” Nie Huaisang doesn’t say much else, but Jiang Cheng can tell by the moonlight that his lips quirk up into a smile.
“Why?”
“Just wanted to ask.”
He thinks for a while before realizing. “Oh. What do I smell like?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Sweat, mostly.”
Jiang Cheng raises a hand to flick him on the forehead, his feelings slightly hurt. Nie Huaisang bursts into quiet laughter. That sound is worth the painful flop of his arm falling back onto the bed, the last of his energy spent from that simple movement.
“There’s something herbal too. I think it’s the tea that you like,” Nie Huaisang continues. “That would be nice, right now.”
“The tea?”
“Mmm.”
“Wake up and I’ll send for someone to make some.”
Another laugh, more distant this time. “Okay.”
The dark trickles into their throats, anchoring them down. Things are not so scary anymore. Their joined hands feel warm. Jiang Cheng watches the walls of the bedroom start to crumble away. The world is ink-black around them.
“If I wake up, will you be there?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nice.” Nie Huaisang sighs. “I’d like it if you were there.”
The last of the walls break. Darkness smoothes over them like a glaze.
.
It takes a tremendous amount of effort to wake up. Everything in his body hurts, but he hears a very audible gasp at his side when he does finally manage to shift. There’s a hand over his eyes immediately.
“You don’t have to do anything. Keep resting.”
It takes a while for him to reorient himself. He pats at the bed next to him and realizes that it’s empty.
The panic is immediate. He tries to push against the hand but realizes he doesn’t have energy enough to fight off his brother.
“Where is—”
“He’s fine, he’s fine, he woke up before you, don’t worry,” Wei Wuxian says. Jiang Cheng tries again to get up and receives a pressed hand to his chest. “Can you just listen to me for once and calm down?”
Wei Wuxian is not frequently angry at him, but Jiang Cheng can hear some anger in his voice this time. Some strength returns to his limbs and he uses it to push away Wei Wuxian’s hand over his face. He’s surprised when he sees the redness in his brother’s eyes and the sallowness of his skin.
“What happened to you?” he asks. His voice sounds gravelly from lack of use, and he has to clear his throat afterward. It hurts.
Wei Wuxian turns away quickly, grabbing water and passing it over to Jiang Cheng. “You didn’t wake up for three days, I’m just tired from saving your ass. You can afford to be a little grateful, you know.”
A lie. That’s what he looks like when he’s been crying, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t point it out. He doesn’t realize how thirsty he was until he has a chance to drink. Wei Wuxian takes the cup away and refills it before passing it back.
Jiang Cheng tries to get up again, but Wei Wuxian pushes him back down. They had grown up with the same stubborn streak, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t have the stamina to fight him this time. Better to give in.
“Is it over?” he asks, after the third cup of water.
Wei Wuxian sighs. “I’m not sure yet.”
The panic is back. Wei Wuxian acts preemptively this time and pins him with his free hand.
“I want to see him.”
“Lan Zhan is taking a look at him, can you please just wait? His body very nearly gave in, he’s very weak right now.”
He opens his mouth to argue that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know nearly enough to make that judgment call when he’s caught by the sudden scent of pine forests. It’s followed with the usual feeling of something deliberately soaking away his frustration, replacing it with even calm.
Nie Huaisang is at the door. He is leaning heavily on Lan Wangji, hair down and face pale. Despite this, there’s a clarity and a familiarity in the way that he looks at Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng tries to remember where he’s felt this look before, but all of his memories from the dreams have been draining since the moment he woke up. When he tries to reach them, the final dregs dissipate. For some reason, all he is is left with is the overwhelming feeling of being known.
They support Nie Huaisang back to the bed. Jiang Cheng notices Wei Wuxian throw one last glance at him, soft, before turning and pulling Lan Wangji out into the hall.
They’re left alone in the room. They prop themselves against each other, against the wall, barely managing to stay upright. Jiang Cheng feels an overwhelming sense of deja vu. It takes a few moments for him to realize that it’s not all from him.
“I know what you’re feeling,” he realizes.
Nie Huaisang’s breathing is still erratic but he does nod, a little unsure. There is a stiffness to the way that he speaks that feels strange to hear. “I feel yours as well. This is from the dream?”
“Do you not remember the dreams?” Nie Huaisang shakes his head. Jiang Cheng lets his gaze drift up to the ceiling and thinks about how strange everything is. “I wonder what happened.”
“You don’t remember either?” Jiang Cheng doesn’t miss the way that Nie Huaisang relaxes at the realization.
“No, not specifics.”
Nie Huaisang hums. “That’s probably for the best. We likely weren’t entirely ourselves in them.” Jiang Cheng agrees.
They sit there in silence.
For some reason, it starts feeling wrong. Jiang Cheng wonders if it’s only his imagination or if Nie Huaisang is actually drawing away. Something in his expression becomes harder and harder to decipher.
When he had first woken up, he had felt that Nie Huaisang was the person he best understood in the entire world. Now that minutes have passed, he’s starting to grow uncertain.
Nie Huaisang begins to look uncomfortable as well. He shifts and says, “Well, I should leave you to rest. I just wanted to come to say thank you. I understand it was very dangerous, and I appreciate your—you—your help in waking up again. My family’s qi deviation has never been stopped before so I don’t—” He trails off. Jiang Cheng hates it but doesn’t have time to interject before Nie Huaisang continues, “Anyway I feel much better right now, so thank you. I should make arrangements to return.”
Nie Huaisang makes to get up and it’s then that Jiang Cheng suddenly remembers.
“Wait. I promised you tea.”
There’s a sudden light to Nie Huaisang’s eyes. “That’s what the smell is,” he mutters.
“What? What smell?”
Nie Huaisang smiles. It clears his face, brings some of the light back to his eyes. Jiang Cheng is surprised by the feelings of hope that bud up in him.
“When I sense your emotions. There’s always a smell that comes with it. I was trying to pinpoint what it was—I think it’s that green tea that you like.”
Jiang Cheng remembers the scent of pine trees from earlier. He leans in to smell the top of Nie Huaisang’s head and places it in an instant—it’s extremely faint now after being at Lotus Pier for all these weeks, but there is still a hint of the forests around the Unclean Realm. The scent makes him relax.
Nie Huaisang takes ahold of one of Jiang Cheng’s hands and sniffs at his wrists. “There it is,” he says, bemused. “How strange.”
It’s an embarrassing movement, but neither of them is embarrassed by it. Perhaps because everything feels so terribly familiar, for them to be so intimate with each other as if their bodies are reliving scripts they’ve performed in the past.
Except he doesn’t ever remember being this close to Nie Huaisang in the years following their youth. Jiang Cheng wonders, again, what had happened in their dreams.
He feels Nie Huaisang pulling away again and, this time, has reason to pull him back. “You don’t have to go back so soon.”
“I’m grateful for that. But it’s been so long, I need to go check on—”
“I’ll call for someone to send a message. They won’t miss you for a few more days.” Jiang Cheng thinks quickly, at a speed that about hurts his head. “Wei Wuxian will want you to stay too. You’re still unstable. If you leave now, you’ll be wasting all of our efforts.”
Nie Huaisang’s brow wrinkles. “Why do I feel like you’ve said this to me before?”
“What? Scolded you?”
“No...said something about wasting your efforts.”
He’s right. When Jiang Cheng reconsiders them, the words taste familiar. “Then you shouldn’t make me say it again.”
That gets a laugh out of him.
“Maybe we dreamed it.”
“It’s possible.”
“Then why can’t you something nicer from the dreams?”
Jiang Cheng wracks his brain for something nicer. Nothing comes up.
Nie Huaisang sighs. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” When he glances at Jiang Cheng, there’s a smile on his face.
“I insist,” Jiang Cheng says. “Stay.”
Nie Huaisang shakes his head.
He pauses—Jiang Cheng’s hand had smoothed over the top of his head and down his hair, without warning or preamble.
Jiang Cheng wishes he could see his eyes to read his expression.
“Just a few more days, then,” Nie Huaisang finally says.
That eases the air between them. It becomes easier for them to talk. The words are hard to say and the questions hard to ask, but both of them are filled with the sensation that they are only reminding themselves of things that have already been aired out in some dreamy past.
Their hands find each other on their own, remembering the times they’ve done this before, as they begin to catch up to where they were.
Noon birdsong sends them off to sleep. This time, it’s dreamless.