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Chapter Text

Was this what victory tasted like? 

Blood dripped slowly to the floor, sliding down Hensheng’s blade, beading at the tip, then slowly splashing to the floor. 

Jin Guangyao shifted his robes, gently smoothing his hand over the yellow silk, a habit he was barely conscious of. 

Lan Xichen’s pale body lay where he had tried to defend his brother, the Twin Jades perfectly still, entwined in death as they ever had been in life. If not for the ugly stain of red, they could have passed for marble statues. 

‘I never tried to hurt you, Er-ge, even after all I’ve done-‘

But Su Minshan had had no such reservations, and had run Lan Xichen through while he’d been struggling to pass spiritual energy to his brother.

Lan Wangji, finding himself between the corpses of his brother and his lover, slit his own throat only seconds after killing Su Minshan. 

Jin Guangyao allowed himself a pause, studying the pale boy still wrapped in Wei Wuxian’s arms. His Lan ribbon remained on his head, even when his head no longer remained entirely attached to his neck. Lan Sizhui was one factor he had not accounted for. If he hadn’t run into the temple, screaming for his Hanguang Jun then perhaps-

Well it was always easiest to blame someone else, wasn’t it? 

Wei Wuxian had dove to protect the boy, gathering him up in his arms. They had both died almost immediately, struck down by the corpse of Chifeng Zun himself. 

If not for the boy, Wei Wuxian could have stopped any corpse, Tiger Seal or not.

The ensuing fight, forcing Jin Guangyao to fight alongside both Twin Jades, had seen Lan Wangji grievously injured and Chifeng Zun once more hacked to bits. 

The rest, as they say, was history.

Unable to help himself, Jin Guangyao found his hand trailing through Lan Xichen’s hair. ‘Please,’ he wanted to say. ‘Please wake up.’ 

But even he knew that some spirits were too heavily damaged to be returned. 

“Er-ge,” he murmured, leaning forward to press his face into his friend’s shoulder. ‘Let us die together-‘

A sniffled echoed from behind him.

Jin Guangyao turned quickly, watching as a figure slowly lifted themself from the floor, only to fall back down in a mess of tangled silk robes. 

He’d completely forgotten about Huaisang, the Nie Sect Leader had been knocked unconscious and tucked out of the way, safely hidden under Lan Xichen’s outer robes.

Huaisang saw the corpses and a terrified sob escaped his lips. 

Jin Guangyao sighed. Of course Huaisang would be the only other survivor. His former Nie-Gongzi had an idiot’s luck, truly. 

Deciding that it would probably be best just to slit his throat and be done with the entire matter, he knelt beside Huaisang, Hensheng still clutched in his hand. 

Except- 

Except Huaisang had been unconscious through all of the reveals. He hadn’t heard any of what Jin Guangyao had done, and - even if he had, he was a good little brother who trusted his San-ge. 

Jin Guangyao could spin this. 

“We’ll go to Dongying,” he murmured, stroking hair from Huaisang’s blotchy face. Hensheng retreated, wrapping around his waist. 

“D- Dongying?” 

Jin Guangyao nodded, attempting to ease Huaisang to his feet. “You won’t need to worry about the Sect anymore, A-Sang,” he promised, rubbing his friend’s arm and giving him a gentle smile. “I have a home, there. You can paint fans all you like, and we’ll build you an aviary.” He’d been saving money for years, sending it to a hidden house in Dongying that didn’t exist on paper.

He had more than enough to spoil his only remaining friend for the rest of their lives. Huaisang could dress in silks, drink fine wine, and truly enjoy his art once again. 

He could be the same youth that had befriended Meng Yao all those years ago, and - just as he had in Qinghe - Meng Yao would shield him from the painful truths of the world. 

Perhaps he could make a life worth living, and - if not - there was always another chance to feed them both poisoned wine. 

“Er-ge,” Huaisang whimpered, clutching Jin Guangyao’s arm. “Did da-ge-“ 

“Shhh,” he stroked Huaisang’s hair. “Da-ge wasn’t himself.” He hadn’t been the da-ge that Huaisang remembered anyway. The real Nie Mingjue would never have kicked his sworn brother down a flight of stairs, qi deviation or no. 

“But-“ 

Jin Guangyao patted Huaisang’s shoulder, wrapping him in Lan Xichen’s outer robes and shushing him gently. “I-“ 

He felt the knife first.

Then the slam as qi hit him.

It took a moment for his mind to register what had happened, he could only look down, seeing Huaisang’s hand wrapped around the blade of a knife embedded in Jin Guangyao’s stomach. The Nie Sect Leader was pouring every ounce of qi in his own, insubstantial core, into the wound, ripping it apart.

Huaisang’s face was terrifyingly blank as he said, “You shouldn’t have killed Da-ge.” There was blood on Huiasang’s lips, his own body giving up as he emptied every ounce of himself into Jin Guangyao.

They were both laughing as they stared death in the face.

Chapter Text

When he awoke, he realized the temple must have been nothing more than a bad dream. 

Without opening his eyes, he could feel the soft silks of his bedsheets, meaning he must be at home in Koi Tower. And the small weight tucked into his side, the breath tickling his hair - Qin Su. Instinctively he reached out to stroke her hair. 

He loved her. 

He loved her so much and he hated himself for it. Turning his head, he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her soft scent.

The wrong scent.  

The tiny thing beside him whimpered, mumbling, “Not yet.”

Jin Guangyao’s eyes snapped open. 

He was in the Unclean Realm, in a room that was well known to him. He’d spent hours upon hours - perhaps weeks worth of his life - in Nie Huaisang’s bedroom. First as Nie Mingjue’s deputy, when his duties had included corralling the second young master, and later, as Lianfang Zun, when he’d been struggling to hold the frightened man together after his elder brother’s death. 

Except that had been an act, hadn’t it?

Either way, that did nothing to explain why he was currently tucked into Nie Huaisang’s bed. Act or not, they hadn’t snuggled together in years, not since shortly after Nie Mingjue’s funeral.

They must have stopped when Huaisang learned the truth. 

Pushing his thoughts aside, Jin Guangyao scanned the room. He recognized many of its contents, although it seemed… more plain than it had in recent years.

His eyes landed on a fan, simple, cheap, not painted at all. He’d given that fan to Huaisang, the first he’d ever given to him, back when he’d been Nie Mingjue’s deputy. Huaisang had kept it, despite its simplicity, simply because his friend had given it to him. 

But the fan couldn’t be there, because Nie Mingjue had, in a fit of rage, burned it along with the rest of Huaisang’s art. Jin Guangyao hadn’t even started poisoning him yet when he’d done that, that had all been Nie Mingjue and Baxia.  

He risked another glance at the sleeping man beside him.

The sleeping teenager, he mentally corrected himself. Huaisang looked far younger than he had in nearly two decades. If he were standing, he would probably not yet be taller than Jin Guangyao, as he hadn’t had his final growth spurt until the Sunshot Campaign. 

His face was blotchy and tear stained, as though he’d cried himself to sleep. Jin Guangyao’s mind easily supplied an explanation: Nie Mingjue had strapped him and then he’d begged for Meng Yao to lull him to sleep. 

Jin Guangyao sat up so sharply Huaisang nearly fell off the bed. 

For a moment, he thought Huaisang was just as confused as he was, glancing around the room, mentally cataloguing his possessions. He, too, would immediately recognize the art Nie Mingjue had once burned, and would note it had been returned. Then he yawned and rubbed his face as though nothing had happened, rolling onto his back.

He yelped in pain. 

Jin Guangyao had to hide a snort in his sleeve. 

“Fuck my ass,” he groaned, far too concise for the teenaged Huaisang. If he had truly been his teenaged self, his complaints would have taken at least thrice as long, and he’d just be getting warmed up. 

It was far, far too easy to fall back into the old routine. “Gongzi should not have disobeyed his brother.” 

Huaisang’s entire body froze, and he slowly turned to face Jin Guangyao, as pale as porcelain. Then, for the shortest moment, there was something like hope in his eyes. “Meng Yao?” he asked, scooting to the edge of the bed, his discomfort forgotten. “Meng Yao is it truly-“ 

“Gongzi would not know what to do without his Da-ge,” he continued, his voice dripping with cruelty. 

Huaisang blinked, his expression shifting from pleasantly hopeful to something cold and unreachable. 

Stubborn, rage-filled eyes met his. “Lianfang Zun.” 

He tilted his head, offering Huaisang a dimpled smile. “Headshaker.” 

He’d forgotten that, as Second Young Master, it was Huaisang’s right to have servants disciplined as he pleased. Not that he’d ever exercised that right before, the servants all won over by his bumbling charm and in no need of correction.

Huaisang put on a good show, sniffling to the head servant that Meng Yao had offended him. 

Of course, there were none in Qinghe that would bother defending Meng Yao, the son of a whore and Chifeng Zun’s resident charity case. The head servant was more than happy to call for a heavy paddle. 

It was embarrassing more than anything, to have his ass bared and beaten in the kitchen courtyard, well in view of anyone who happened to pass by (half the servants and a good number of the disciples suddenly found themselves in desperate need of water from the kitchen well). 

Bent over the table that was usually used on days when it was too hot to cook indoors, Jin Guangyao made a mental note to break Huaisang’s neck before defecting to the Wen. Of course he was still planning to do that, Wen Ruohan might be evil, but he’d never snickered behind a fan as his servant was humiliated.

If he had truly been the teenaged Meng Yao, he would probably have cried actual tears at the punishment. His pain tolerance hadn’t been as high, not yet, but more than anything it would have been the knowledge that he’d upset his gongzi. 

Gongzi could go fuck himself. 

Huaisang waited for the excitement to die down, giving Jin Guangyao time to yank up his trousers and adjust his robes, before skipping over to him and happily perching on the table, snapping his fan open. “Are you going to kill Da-ge?” 

“I’m going to kill you,” he snarled, rubbing his smarting backside. 

“You should try,” Huaisang urged, fanning himself cheerfully. “I’d like to see you struck with a disciple whip. Wangji-ge survived thirty three. I bet you wouldn’t survive five.” 

Trapped in his teenage body with his middling cultivation, he wouldn’t. Even as an adult he probably wouldn’t have. 

Jin Guangyao grit his teeth. 

Huaisang studied him over the top of his fan. “Were you really going to take me to Dongying?” 

He blinked. Then scowled. “What else was I suppose to do with you?” 

“If it were me, I would have just left you.” 

Thinking of the elaborate plot Huaisang must have cooked up to cause his downfall, Jin Guangyao snapped, “No, you wouldn’t have.” 

Huaisang yawned, tapping his fan against his open mouth. “I suppose not,” he admitted. “I would have killed you.” 

“You did kill me.” 

“I did!” He sounded so pleased with himself, just like when he managed to get his hands on a particularly rare bit of art, or when he managed to work out a problem with only minimal help from Jin Guangyao or Lan Xichen. 

He shook his head, glancing around the courtyard, mentally cataloguing a list of possible escape routes. 

“You can’t leave,” Huaisang said, as though guessing his intention. 

“Oh?” 

He nodded. “If you do, I’ll tell da-ge everything, and he’ll come after you. Do you think you could escape him if he knew what you are?” 

“Even if I stay you’ll still tell him.” 

He shrugged, fanning himself absently. “I might,” he mused. Then he frowned. “Fuck,” he complained, “da-ge is going to make me go to Cloud Recesses again, isn’t he?” 

“If you can trick me for over a decade, then you can pass your classes.” 

“But its such a waste of youth,” Huaisang complained. Then his face lit up. “I can get Wangji-ge and Wei-Xiong together,” he said excitedly. 

Jin Guangyao shook his head in disbelief. 

Huaisang hummed, fiddling with his fan, tilting his head. He puffed his cheeks and blew thin strands of hair out of his face, clearly no longer to his looser, childhood hairstyle. He studied Jin Guangyao over the top of his fan. 

“You told Er-ge you didn’t want to kill Da-ge,” he said slowly. “You never lie to Er-ge.” 

“I didn’t have a choice!” Jin Guangyao hissed. “My father would have killed me!” 

“You could have told us!” Huaisang argued, snapping his fan shut. “Da-ge would have-“ 

“What?” Jin Guangyao demanded. “The honorable Chifeng Zun would have done what?” 

“He would have helped you!” Huaisang hissed. He flicked his fan back open, a scowl on his face. “I would have helped you.” 

Jin Guangyao shook his head, aghast and unable to believe that Huaisang could still be so naive after everything. “Then why didn’t he?” he demanded. “You all knew how my father treated me, and yet not one of you raised a hand to stop him.” 

Huaisang disappeared behind his fan. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, sounding as young as he looked. “I just thought it would work out.” 

Jin Guangyao resumed studying the courtyard. He’d already settled on a possible escape route - through the kitchens, out the back door, straight to the stables - and was currently working on a plan for how best to get to Qishan (or, if there was anywhere less horrible he could flee to). 

“It doesn’t matter,” Huaisang said finally, breaking the silence with a soft huff. “Because you’re going to behave, or else I’ll-“ 

“You’ll what, Huaisang?” 

They both froze at the familiar voice, turning to see a very angry looking Chifeng Zun towering over them. 

His eyes weren’t on Jin Guangyao, however, but focused on his brother instead. “You’ll have my deputy beaten again?” 

It was completely absurd, but entirely in character, that Huaisang suddenly decided to hide behind the man he’d just had whipped. 

Huaisang was too delighted to have his brother back, alive and unharmed, to be truly upset at having his ass thrashed.

Jin Guangyao was too worried about what Huaisang was going to say to Nie Mingjue to take any delight in watching him bent over his brother’s knee and strapped like a child. 

Usually, when his brother disciplined him, Huaisang would take off and sulk for days in his room. He’d never, as far as Meng Yao knew, thrown his arms around his brother’s neck and sobbed into his shirt.

Nie Mingjue clearly didn’t know what to do, freezing and staring at Jin Guangyao, as though pleading for his deputy to explain what the hell was going on. Huaisang, in the moments before his brother had turned him over his lap, had stuttered out a completely believable excuse that had implied having Meng Yao beaten was just another one of his moods. Nie Mingjue had seemed to believe it, but with Huaisang sobbing into his chest he seemed to be having second thoughts. 

At least he clearly had no idea about the time travel, otherwise he would have had no qualms about separating Jin Guangyao’s head from his shoulders. 

“Huaisang,” he tried to pull his brother off him, but the younger Nie clung like a leach. “Meng Yao-“ 

He barely trusted himself to speak, managing to choke out, “Chifeng Zun,” when ‘da-ge’ had been on the tip of his tongue. 

All Huaisang had to do was say it.

Well, say it and then convince Nie Mingjue he hadn’t snuck into any of the head cook’s experimental liquor again. Compared to the multiple gods he had claimed to see the last time, saying he’d seen an evil Meng Yao from the future would probably sound sane. 

Huaisang studied him, probably deciding how badly he wanted Jin Guangyao’s execution to hurt. 

Then he turned back to his brother. “I had a vision, Da-ge.” 

His brother was, as was to be expected, unimpressed. “A vision?” 

“Of the future.” 

Nie Mingjue seemed doubtful, looking at Jin Guangyao with an expression that clearly implied he thought this was a trick to get out of saber practice. 

Well, if Huaisang - for some reason - wasn’t exposing him as a monster just yet, he supposed he might as well play along. “This one found him in the throes of… something. He was… unbalanced.” 

Huaisang let out a loud wail. “I mistook Yao-ge for- Da-ge, I was so scared I-“ He buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, leaving Jin Guangyao to do the actual work. As usual. 

Nie Mingjue wasn’t the brightest of men, and - before the Sunshot Campaign, without Baxia having worked into the deepest recesses of his mind - not prone to suspicion. 

So when Jin Guangyao calmly explained that he’d found Huaisang having some sort of fit and that the younger Nie had mistaken him for someone else, ordering the beating out of confusion, he seemed to believe it. 

Well, he wasn’t entirely certain Nie Mingjue bought the entire story. He certainly was giving them both weird looks, still pointing out that Huaisang should have known better than to have his friend beaten. 

But he seemed willing to at least go along with it (Jin Guangyao had forgotten exactly how deeply Nie Mingjue had once trusted him, since his word was good enough for the clan leader to agree to call a council of Nie Elders to discuss Huaisang’s claims). 

It took only a little more convincing for Nie Mingjue to let Jin Guangyao lead Huaisang off to his room, promising he’d get him settled and then meet back up to discuss more of what he’d been able to glean from the ‘vision’ he had ‘witnessed.’

(Really the Nie’s cultivation was so infamously unstable that Nie Mingjue seemed to have decided all on his own that it was likely a Qi Deviation, and his response was to be excited that his brother had enough Qi to Deviate). 

Then Nie Mingjue mentioned that he was going to ask Lan Xichen for assistance, and Jin Guangyao didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, barely managing to get out of the room with Huaisang dragging him along. 

Er-ge was alive. 

Er-ge didn’t know him at all. 

He faltered slightly, sagging and collapsing onto a cushion as they reached Huaisang’s rooms. The younger Nie brother whipped open a hidden compartment in his dresser, producing rice wine for both of them, then sprawled out on his stomach with a groan. 

“What are you doing?” Jin Guangyao asked finally. 

Huaisang stared at his feet, scuffing the ground with his toe. “I got to kill you once,” he said. Jin Guangyao didn’t see how that was enough revenge. He still wanted to kill his father again, after all. “I think, if we work together, we can make the world a lot happier, don’t you?” 

“Why do I care if the world is happy?” 

Huaisang stared at him. “Because we can make everyone love you,” he said, “and then I won’t have to kill you, because you won’t have to kill Da-ge.” 

Maybe Huaisang was still the man he’d thought he knew, even under all the scheming, because that sounded like exactly the sort of absurd thing his friend would think up. 

He flicked open his fan, disappearing behind it. “Besides,” he said, “you still owe me a trip to Dongying.” 

After a pause, he sighed. “I do,” Meng Yao agreed.