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"Rejoice!"
From her cell, Wen Qing could hear the round of cheers, the collective raising of a thousand cups. The inky black of her cell had no end, save for the light of the lanterns that lined Jinlintai. All lit for the celebrations that were meant to continue well into the night.
The festivities marked the end of Wen Qing’s world.
Not even her jailer stayed behind to guard the broken prisoner. They knew Wen Qing wouldn't attempt an escape— she had no reason now that the last one was dead.
Numb, her nails tore on the rough cell floor. All dead. Wei Wuxian was dead. And she was trapped, stuck in this desolate hell.
Alone. Save for the ghosts in her memories. The last few weeks, playing on repeat, torturing her with the possibilities of how things could have gone differently.
Should haves, could haves. So many ways Wen Qing might have kept them alive. Maybe if she had listened to Wei Wuxian more, believed in his optimism, and the experiments he thought could buy them more time.
'If you're trapped, use this.' Wei Wuxian handed her a talisman drawn in what looked suspiciously like blood. She would scold him for it later when the manic gleam in his eyes faded back into their usual silver.
He was slipping.
A part of her, the one that thrived under her uncle, wondered if this was a side effect of losing his core or demonic cultivation. Or even if this was just what happened when someone was put through so much in such a short amount of time.
"Sure." Wen Qing slipped the talisman away; she would hide it away later. Questionable mental state or not, Wei Wuxian was a genius. Anything he created would hold powers that she would never quite understand.
It was why she would burn it when he wasn't looking. Not that Wen Qing didn't trust him, no, she trusted Wei Wuxian with her most treasured family, but the nightmares of Nightless City were still fresh in all their minds. The night that the flute played and the streets ran red with Wen blood would stay a raw wound, as Chenqing played to keep them alive.
And she wasn't enough of a liar to pretend she wasn't the least bit scared of what Wei Wuxian's inventions might unleash.
She pressed her cheek against the cool stone. It had been foolish not to take Wei Wuxian's inventions more seriously. To let her own fear cloud her judgment. If Wen Qing had kept them and given them to Popo, they might have had a chance to defend themselves.
With her teeth, Wen Qing tore at the side of her finger until a well of red dripped down her wrist. Carefully, she traced from memory the last talisman Wei Wuxian had given her.
The effect was instantaneous. A violent jerk sucked her into the dizzying array, noise without sound drowning her perception of the world. Panic seized her before a dreadful calm took over. Wei Wuxian, for all his faults, would never give her a talisman designed to hurt its user. For better or for worse, Wen Qing trusted him wholeheartedly.
Just as her lungs began to cry out for air, the array released her back to the exact same spot.
Only it wasn't?
The midday sun poked through the iron bars, nearly blinding her with the sudden bright light. How much time passed? Stumbling and using the wall for support, Wen Qing willed herself to stand.
Her jailers still hadn't returned, and odder still the door to the cell rusted to the point it was falling off the hinge. Wen Qing wasn't about to question the opportunity. With a well-placed kick, it came crashing to the ground.
When the guards didn't immediately come storming in, Wen Qing didn't waste any more time. With any luck, they were all too busy nursing hangovers to care about keeping watch over her. She nicked the rust-stained knife still lying on the table where her last visitor had left it, gripping it so tightly that they would have to break her fingers if they wanted to take it from her.
Legs protesting the sudden activity after weeks of being stuck in the cell, Wen Qing ran. Past the glided cage, and her golden keeps. She even ignored the ghost of Jin Zixuan that tried to stop her, not pausing for a moment for the dead. The Jin guards would not catch her alive a third time.
Using the precious reserves of spiritual energy to keep the blinding, agonizing pace going. Only when Jinlintai was well behind her did she slow down to catch her breath.
Freedom. Meant nothing when she was the last one trapped in this realm. But like a vengeful ghost, Wen Qing would be stuck until her regrets were completed.
The largest being letting Jiang Wanyin live. She should have said no. Curiosity, duty, be damned. Who Wen Qing hated more, her or Jiang Wanyin, she didn't know.
But it was her work that gave him the ability to kill them all. Her hands that placed Wei Wuxian’s sun inside the empty chasm. He lived with a stolen gift, and it was Wen Qing's responsibility to right her mistake.
The journey to Lotus Pier was a familiar one. Her legs followed the same trail they had two years ago. Avoiding the main road drew out the journey, but Wen Qing wouldn't risk being caught for convenience. By now, the Jins were likely amassing in preparation for hunting her down. Or worse, Jin Guangshan would send Jin Guangyao after her.
Wen Qing had seen his skill set firsthand when he was with her uncle. Clever and ruthless, she would rather try to escape from the whole Jin army than try to evade him.
But for once, luck seemed to be on her side. The lakes of Lotus Pier, coloured with soft lilac flowers, bouncing the light back at the stars, came into view. Skirting, she looked for one of the ward anchors. Wei Wuxian explained that he modelled the protection around the Burial Mounds after the ones he had set up in Lotus Pier after the war.
Surrounded and integrated with the civilians, wards like the Cloud Recesses or Qishan wouldn't work, he had explained, 'It needs to be like a sieve, able to keep those that are dangerous out, but allow friends.' Silently, Wen Qing knelt down to the small stone, cupping it gently in her hands. Wei Wuxian never made them obvious, but she would recognize that messy-blooded scrawl anywhere.
"I am a friend of your Da-shixiong." She whispered, "I am his Qing-jie, and I would never endanger his home." The wards wavered, like a ripple in the water, welcoming her in.
He had thought of everything. The grief tugged at her heart that despite being gone, Wei Wuxian was still managing to help her— all she ever needed to do was ask. But it didn't take long for that reminder to fuel her resolve.
Slinking around the shadows of Lotus Pier, she let fury guide her to her goal. Wei Wuxian's death would not go unpunished; she, Wen Qing of the Dafan Wen, would not allow it. Even if it was the last thing she did in this lifetime.
There he sat—the boy with the comb, the man who killed the last of her family.
Wen Qing didn't waste a second before aiming the rusted blade at Jiang Wanyin's heart.
Zidian crackled, lashing her across the chest, sending her flying back into the wall. Adrenaline spurred her back up. Not skipping a beat, she leapt at him like a feral animal. No thought or reason behind her attacks, not now that he was prepared for a fight. She wouldn't win.
But that didn't mean Wen Qing couldn't make him hurt before he killed her, too.
A hand reached out, gripping her wrist like an iron-clad vice. The harsh purple light highlighted the range of emotions that crossed Jiang Wanyin's face before it settled into startled anger.
Her knee connected with Jiang Wanyin's groin. A grunt escaped his lips, but he didn't let go, didn't so much as loosen his grip.
"Jin Ling sent a message that someone ran from Jinlintai. I never expected it to be you. Thirteen years and only now do you decide to haunt my doorstep." He held her wrist so tightly that Wen Qing half thought he meant to break it. 'Let him,' she thought bitterly, 'I won't let go.'
"You don't know what he gave up for you." She hissed, grief and anger dripping from each word. He didn't see how Wei Wuxian suffered. How desperately he wanted to return home, and the pain he tried to hide from them. No. Jiang Wanyin saw none of that. Only kept delivering one cruel blow after another.
“I do.” He bit back with fury that matched her own.
"And you killed him anyway." Her voice broke and cracked right down the middle as the realization truly hit her.
Wen Qing had saved a monster worse than any of the great sects could have hunted.
“I didn't.”
It hardly mattered if Jiang Wanyin had dealt the final blow; he had killed Wei Wuxian in every way that mattered long before that.
The mission that numbed her to the reality of the loss had failed. All the strength that kept her standing vanished. Jiang Wanyin's hold loosened as he lowered her, giving Wen Qing the dignity to slink to the floor rather than dangling in his grip.
"The idiot is alive. Married."
What? She must have misheard. Wei Wuxian was dead. She had felt it, deep in her heart, the moment his light had gone out. He was too dangerous to be kept a prisoner; the Jin wouldn't have dared try to lock him up. Their celebration wasn't fake. He was dead.
But Jiang Wanyin just tore her new reality apart in four simple words. A gasp escaped, her hands flying up to come to her mouth to keep the jagged breaths locked away. Alive . Wei Wuxian, Xian-di, her best friend, was alive.
Impossible.
Do the impossible . It was what he was known for. Right then, Wen Qing didn't know if she should laugh or cry. Alive .
Ignoring her, he plowed forward with more ground-shaking information.
"So is your brother; he has your nephew on a field trip."
A-Ning and A-Yuan. Together? She scanned Jiang Wanyin for a trace of a lie, a cruel hint of deception. Annoyance, confusion, yes. But she grew up with liars, and at this moment, Jiang Wanyin was not one of them.
Against her better judgment, she placed the knife on the table. Still within quick reach, but it is a sign of good faith. Unfolding, Wen Qing shifted into sitting like a young lady of the greats and not some wild creature dragged in from the night.
He didn't look at her. Speaking quickly into two Jin butterflies, Jiang Wanyin opened the window to release them. "I can't say when they'll arrive, but…" he gestured vaguely at the table. "Tea?"
Tea. That did make her laugh, wet with the tears that lingered, but genuine. Especially as the sound startled a pouting blush from Jiang Wanyin, Wen Qing's anger faded, leaving only exhausted endearments. Jiang Wanyin is still awkward and rough around the edges, but meant well.
"Tea would be nice." She spared him the suffering of waiting for an answer. After a relieved sigh, he set to preparing a pot—a task for a servant or for her, not for a leader of a great sect. Tattered robes and filthy from days of hard travel, he served her with respect not meant for a prisoner. "They're alive?"
"He was summoned last year." Jiang Wanyin poured himself, fingers fiddling with the rim of the cup. "Your brother is no more or less alive than he was before."
"And A-Yuan?"
"Raised by Lan Wangji. I only found out after Wei Wuxian returned." He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing at the fact. No, Wen Qing couldn't imagine Hanguang-jun would tell Jiang Wanyin about A-Yuan. If he, like her, believed that Jiang Wanyin murdered Wei Wuxian in cold blood, then cold civility was the best-case scenario. "I did look for him… after."
At least he had tried. It did little to curb the grief, but even in the midst of losing the remainder of his family, Jiang Wanyin had attempted to save the last member of hers. Wen Qing took a sip of tea, letting the Yunmeng blend settle on her tongue. The slight tingle of warm spice and deep flavours was stronger than the ones Wen Qing had grown up with in Qishan, but infinitely better than the muddy water they boiled and deluded themselves with in the Burial Mounds.
They fell into an uneasy silence, absorbing each other's presence and digesting the event of the night. Eventually, one of them would have to cave in and be the first to speak, bringing them back to reality. And just as Wen Qing finished her second cup, he broke the silence.
"This doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to." Only years of surgical experience kept her hands steady as Jiang Wanyin reached into his robe pocket— right above where her knife had been aimed moments ago. "But it's still yours if you want it.
The comb. The one he had gifted her all those years ago sat innocently on the table, untouched by time. Wen Qing had returned it. When it had become clear, there was no place for what it promised in this lifetime. Gently, she brushed the sun carving that had joined the lotus. It hadn't been there when Wen Qing had last held it.
A confusing rush of emotion took over. Wen Qing had turned him down last time. The protection he offered would never be extended to her family. He couldn't, not when the grief of the fall of Lotus Pier was still so fresh. Her fingertips trailed over the sun once more. Her family was gone . They were gone, A-Ning didn't need her to protect him, and A-Yuan likely had forgotten her by now.
She'd never been one to believe in fairytale endings, and if it hadn't been for Wei Wuxian's mad genius, hers would have ended as a tragedy. But now he offered her an option she never believed possible.
“Not tonight.” Gently, Jiang Wanyin called for a servant, bidding a room to be arranged.
And just like that, she was escorted out. Wen Qing half expected to be cast out, back to the streets or another cell, but the room the servant presented her was befit of a honoured guest.
The second the servant left, she made a beeline for the tub. In the Burial Mounds, nothing was free from rotting ash, including their water. It was impossible to truly feel clean in that place. Better than the camps, indefinitely so, but it shamefully made her miss the luxury of Nightless City.
Stripping the disgusting robes off her, they would have to be burned, not even worth trying to make clothes from. Still, she did her best to fold them into something respectable. Wen Qing would not lower herself to the undoubtable expectations that the Jiang sect still had of her.
She scrubbed her skin raw, letting the warm water rinse away the filth that clung to her for however long she had been in the cell. The scratches and cuts that lined her body stung as Wen Qing cleaned with the soaps the servant brought. Some of the larger ones would need to be watched, but that would be a tomorrow issue.
Right now, the soft robes Jiang Wanyin sent rivalled those even in Nightless City. There was a reason before the war that the Jiang were considered among the richest; this quality of Lotus silk was impossible to replicate, and a part of her was glad to see that the clan had recovered.
Sinking into bed, draped in the same silk sheets as her robes, Wen Qing finally allowed herself to relax. A-Ning was on his way. Her precious little brother and her adorable nephew, together, were coming; Wen Qing would be allowed to see them.
Silent tears dripped into the corners of her smile. Wei Wuxian was married, foolish didi finally got it through his thick head that Hanguang-jun loved him. He was so smart that he was somehow able to bend the fabric of time and send her years forward, but not that it wasn’t hate that drove Lan Wangji to stand in the rain and let them go.
Sleep crept up on her, the lull of a comfortable bed and the warmth of the bath still lingering on her skin; it would have been impossible to escape. Tomorrow, she would have to give Jiang Wanyin an answer. It wouldn’t be fair to keep him waiting any longer.
For the first time in ages, the sun didn’t wake her, but the smell of breakfast did. Her stomach growled, announcing its protest. The hot-dry noodles bursting with flavours, it wasn’t a dish she had often had in the past, but Wen Qing would swear now it was the best thing she had ever tasted. She licked the sesame sauce from her lips, glad that no one was there to watch her make a fool of herself.
Only when the last dish was empty did Wen Qing finish getting ready, donning the dark gray robes Jiang Wanyin had set aside. Bitterly, she was glad he hadn’t ordered Jiang purple. She didn’t deserve to wear their colours, even if Jiang Wanyin might think differently.
With her head held high, Wen Qing strode through the main hallways, ignoring the stares that followed her. The comb held so tightly, the teeth bit into the palm of her hand.
Like last night, there he was. Sitting at the bend of the same stack of papers, like no time had passed at all. And the more Wen Qing looked, the more she believed he had stayed there the whole night. In another circumstance, it might have been amusing that he and Wei Wuxian had the same tells. The way his hair escaped the braids from resting his head against his hand, or the same intense stare like the secrets in the paper could be revealed if only he stared hard enough.
But the second Wen Qing took a step forward, his sole focus turned to her. Quietly, she took another step, and another, letting her feet guide her to his desk. Without waiting for permission, she settled in front of him and placed the comb delicately between them.
"You kept it." The words tumbled from her lips, soft and barely audible. It wasn't a question, not really, but Jiang Wanyin heard it anyway.
"I don't break my promises." His fingers touched hers, as electrifying as Zidian's, only much sweeter. A soft line of spiritual energy passed between them. The golden light was achingly familiar from the one and only time she felt it before. "And I learn from mistakes."
Wei Wuxian was on his way, and A-Ning would join him, of that she was sure. Maybe A-Yuan as well. Her family would be here soon. And before Wen Qing, the man who loved her still.
"Tell me again." She intertwined her hand with his. "From the beginning."
Wen Qing wanted to know everything, the beautiful and the ugly. So when they started this time, there were no misguided ghosts in their closets.