Chapter Text
Gods do not interfere in mortal matters.
That was the rule. An unspoken rule, unwritten rule, but a rule nonetheless. You can answer prayers, communicate with dedicated cultivators, but directly descending and interfering? It wasn’t only discouraged, but outright unheard of. No god cared enough to actually do anything about meaningless lives that would be over in a mere blink of an eye.
And that was the reason, wasn’t it? No one cared enough. No one ever did. Maybe if someone cared, things could have gone differently for Xie Lian. And yes, people cared about him now, but eight hundred years ago? Not a single god – excluding the Rain Master, of course – could be bothered to help him save his kingdom. After all, what was it to them? If it didn’t directly benefit them, they wouldn’t do anything but watch from the sidelines.
So maybe that’s why Xie Lian became interested in the prayer he received and decided to personally assist. Or maybe it was because no one ever wanted to pray to him, Crown Prince Xie Lian, god of misfortune and scrap-collecting.
Maybe he was curious as to how desperate a person could be to pray to the last god available.
No. None of those were the reasons why he personally chose to travel and answer the prayer, and he knew it. No, the real reason was because Xie Lian could close his eyes and hear himself pleading for help. Begging for someone to help him save the people he cared about.
But no one would. No one ever would. And so he was forced to save them alone, until there was nothing left to save.
Even now, days after he had first heard the prayer whispering in his head, Xie Lian could still hear it echoing over and over again.
Well. This is it. My last hope. The last god in the heavens I haven’t yet prayed to. To be honest, I was hesitant to pray to you, the god of misfortune. It’s said that if you pray to him, it’ll only bring bad luck on you. But then again, don’t I know better than anyone that stories and rumors aren’t necessarily true? That someone might not be the person he’s believed to be? Besides, the stories say I should worship the god of misfortune with the ghost king, Crimson Rain Sought Flower as the gods of love. Ha. Imagine having that kind of devotion, someone who will stand by you at your lowest. In another lifetime, maybe Lan Zhan could have been that person for me, but…Yeah. I don’t really know. Fuck. I just…I just need help. I’ve got no one left to turn to, nowhere left to hide. How terrible the world must be, for the innocent to seek refuge in hell. Jiang Cheng disowned me — of course, I asked him to, but that was to protect him — and I can’t endanger the YunmengJiang sect by taking the Wens there. And Lan Zhan…oh, Lan Zhan. If he could do something, he would have already. He’s not coming back. Why would he? He hates me. The Nie sect is out, considering how passionately Nie Mingjue hates Wens, even the elderly and sick who haven’t done anything wrong. And obviously I’m not going to go to the Jin, considering they’re the reason I’m in this situation in the first place! I just…what do you do, when you’re the only one left to speak for the innocent, but no one will listen to you? What do you do, when there’s no one left to save you?
The prayer had ended there, abruptly and painfully, and left Xie Lian drowning in who he had been, and who he might have become. He had spent the next few days asking around in the cultivation sect territories, trying to get to the bottom of what was going on.
Apparently, a former cultivator prodigy named Wei Wuxian had broken some dangerous soldiers out of a prison and raised the dead before running away and hiding in the Burial Mounds where no one else could get to. Allegedly, he was raising an army of fierce corpses and Wen cultivators before waging war on the sects. Realistically, no one had heard anything from him since the Jiang sect disowned him.
He also used demonic cultivation, which Xie Lian had heard theorized, but never put into practice. Knowing that, it was easy to assume Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, was the villain.
But Xie Lian couldn’t get Wei Wuxian’s words out of his head and couldn’t help but think that perhaps not everything was as it seemed.
So here he was, standing at the wards protecting the entrance to the Burial Mounds. Hua Cheng had wanted to accompany him, but Xie Lian had insisted on going alone. But since his sweet, dedicated husband worried about him entering a place with so much resentful energy, he was sent on his way with several butterflies accompanying him.
“For protection,” Hua Cheng had said with a smile that was reserved only for Xie Lian.
For any mortal, the wards crafted from resentful energy (truly, an impressive feat) would have prevented anyone from entering. But luckily for Xie Lian, he was no mortal.
One butterfly casually took down the ward without setting off the alarm, because Hua Cheng was brilliant, and allowed Xie Lian to enter before putting it back up again.
Almost immediately, the resentful energy threatened to suffocate Xie Lian. Hatred and pain and rage rose, surrounding him. The butterflies were quick to retaliate, chasing away the resentment with their razor sharp wings and demonic origins of their own.
Xie Lian thanked them kindly for their hard work before continuing on the path. Distantly, he could hear vague and indistinct chatter, but he wasn’t close enough to make it out.
But eventually, the sight of flimsy looking houses and cultivated soil came into view. A couple dozen people mingled around, performing various tasks. None of them noticed Xie Lian.
Well. One noticed Xie Lian. And he made his own presence known by wrapping his arms around his legs and holding on tightly.
Xie Lian glanced down, surprised to see such a young child clinging to his thigh. “Well hello, little one,” he greeted softly.
“White-gege!” the young boy said happily. “White-gege!”
He chuckled, finding the child adorable, but also concerned as to what he was doing in a place like this.
The child’s loud declaration had drawn the attention of the other residents, who were alarmed at the sight of a stranger in their…home? Could the Burial Mounds be considered a home?
“Someone get Wei-gongzi and Qing-jie,” an older man ordered, to which a woman went running in the opposite direction.
“Just who might you be?” Xie Lian asked the boy, deciding to pretend that he couldn’t hear the people. Maybe if he struck up friendly conversation with the kid, they would realize that he didn’t mean them any harm?
“I’m A-Yuan!” the boy informed him. “But Xian-gege says I’m a radish. He says that if he plants me in the ground and waters me, I’ll turn into a big and strong radish!”
“But aren’t you already a big and strong radish?”
A-Yuan seemed to consider this before shaking his head. “I want to be a bigger and stronger radish, like Xian-gege and Ning-shushu!”
“A-Yuan, we’ve talked about this,” a familiar voice said. Xie Lian looked up from the boy to see a young man standing in front of him, a glare on his face that didn’t match the mellowness of his voice. He was dressed in rags like everyone else, his hair held up in a single red ribbon. Xie Lian couldn’t help but note the thinness of his figure and the hollowness of his face that he recognized all too well. Starvation was an old friend of his.
“You can’t just hug the leg of anyone who comes in here,” the man continued. “Come here.”
“No! I like White-gege!” A-Yuan held on tighter.
“Ah, you should listen to your elders,” Xie Lian chided gently, detaching A-Yuan from his leg and ushering him over to the man. A young woman who had arrived next to him swiftly picked A-Yuan up and sent Xie Lian a distrusting look combined with a warning scowl.
“Yeah, A-Yuan, listen to your Xian-gege,” he said teasingly. “Honestly, one visit from Lan Zhan and you decide to only obey him and never me,” He paused, considering. “And Qing-jie, because she’s scary and if you don’t listen to her she’ll stab you with her needles.”
“One would think you’d actually follow that advice and listen to me, then,” the girl said dryly. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to resort to stabbing you to get you to take care of yourself.”
“Aiyah, QingQing, give me a break, will you?”
“Call me QingQing one more time, and I’ll stab you with more than just a needle,” she warned. The look in her eyes promised that she was not, in fact, joking.
The man pouted, puffing up his cheeks. “But that’s just making more work for yourself, considering you’re the one who stitches me back together.”
She just scoffed and glanced pointedly towards Xie Lian. “A-Yuan is going to help me wash the robes,” she said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. “Your cave will be empty for the next hour.”
The man sighed and turned back to Xie Lian, the lightheartedness gone in an instant. “Who are you,” he demanded, “and how did you get in here without the alarms going off?”
“I can explain,” Xie Lian said quickly. “But just to make sure before I tell you everything, you are Wei Wuxian, correct?”
His eyes widened slightly before narrowing suspiciously again. “I…am,” he said, almost sounding unsure. “But everyone knows that. I want to know who the fuck you are and what the fuck you’re doing here.”
“I promise I mean you and your people no harm,” Xie Lian assured him. “I just want to speak with you.” After a moment of thought, he quickly added, “And I won’t tell anyone else anything, either.”
Wei Wuxian tilted his head slightly, taking in Xie Lian’s appearance: frayed white robes that he was determined to continue to wear despite Hua Cheng’s attempts at changing his wardrobe into something with higher quality that “his highness deserves”; bamboo hat resting on his back; sheathed sword that Hua Cheng had gifted him several years ago for his birthday.
“Give me your sword, and then we can talk,” he said finally.
Xie Lian blinked, not expecting that. But he understood where Wei Wuxian was coming from, so he removed the sheathed sword and handed it over. “Just be careful with it,” he requested. “My husband crafted it; it’s very important to me.”
Looking stunned, Wei Wuxian accepted the sword and stared at it, before turning his guarded gaze onto Xie Lian. “I didn’t think you’d actually give it to me,” he said. “Cultivators highly value their swords. I should know – I used to be one.”
A note of bitterness crept into his voice during the last statement, which only piqued Xie Lian’s curiosity. From what he had learned over the past few days, Wei Wuxian had been a truly exceptional cultivator. But then he had vanished into thin air for three months and returned with a mastery over demonic cultivation.
“Anyway,” Wei Wuxian said, forcing cheeriness into his voice, “you can follow me so we can talk in private.”
He turned to the people still lingering and watching with nervous expressions. “Everything is perfectly alright, everyone! I’ll take care of this.”
With just those two sentences, everyone promptly went back to what they were doing. Xie Lian marveled at the sheer amount of trust they had in this man that everyone else feared so terribly.
He followed Wei Wuxian into some sort of cave, warily eyeing the various talismans and knicknacks scattered on the floor. The cave was actually a bit homey, if one ignored the resentment bubbling in a corner and the obvious fact that this could not be considered a home.
“Welcome to the Demon-Subduing Cave!” Wei Wuxian said, turning to look at Xie Lian. “My, ah, current residence! It’s not much, but I make it work.” His faux bright smile faded and he crossed his arms, still holding Xie Lian’s sword. “Now will you answer my questions?”
“Of course.” Xie Lian clasped his hands and bowed respectfully. “My name is Xie Lian, gongzi. I’m here to answer your prayer.”
When he straightened, the look on Wei Wuxian’s face was unreadable. Which was understandable. Gods weren’t known to speak to mortals directly, and especially not in person. It may take evidence to get the man to fully believe him, but that was alright. Xie Lian didn’t have anything better to do, though Hua Cheng might disagree.
(“Gege,” he had lamented when Xie Lian told him of his plans. “Wouldn’t you rather stay with me in Puqi Shrine or Paradise Manor?”)
“You’re Xie Lian,” Wei Wuxian said finally, his processing complete. “The god of misfortune, Xie Lian?”
“That’s me,” he said brightly. “Although I’m much more than just the god of misfortune, I’ll have you know.”
“I don’t understand.”
Of course he didn’t. Why would he? No other god would answer his plea. No other god would try. Why would it be Xie Lian, the Laughingstock of the Three Realms, the god of misfortune, the twice-banished god, to be the one to help?
“I am not only the god of misfortune,” he repeated patiently. “I am the god of scrap-collecting. I am the god of the forgotten and the abandoned, of the leftovers and the unwanted.” He smiled softly. “I am the god of kindness and righteousness.”
Now Wei Wuxian wasn’t confused, but rather calculating. Scrutinizing. There might even be some carefully contained hope. “You’re a god,” he forced out, still in disbelief. “Why would a god bother with me?”
“You are protecting the remnants of a destroyed clan from revenge for a crime they did not commit.” Xie Lian fiddled with his sleeves absently, still smiling gently at the Yiling Patriarch. “What better representation of what I stand for than that?”
“So…you’ll help me? Us?”
“I will do what I can,” he confirmed. He hesitated, then continued: “I know what it’s like, Wei-gongzi, to have the world turn its back on you when you need it most. I won’t let history repeat itself. I won’t…I won’t turn my back on the desperate, not when I, too, have been desperate and was subjected to a fate I did not deserve. Not when I know that the right thing must be done, even if it is the hard thing to do.”
Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wide as he listened, finally letting the hope spill out. “I will do anything,” he whispered. “Anything. I don’t…I don’t have anything to give as offerings right now, but when I do I–”
“Wei-gongzi,” Xie Lian interrupted. He didn’t like interrupting people, he always loved listening to what they had to say, but in this case it felt necessary. “I don’t ask for anything in return.”
Now the confusion was back, so he hurried to clarify. “You don’t have to give me anything for thanks.” An idea suddenly struck him. “Actually, if you have any scraps you don’t want, I’ll take them! Or I can sell them for you. Whichever you prefer.”
Apparently he said the wrong thing, because the confusion didn’t go away. “But don’t you want to be compensated for helping a bunch of outcasts everyone wants dead?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“I don’t, actually,” Xie Lian confessed. “No one ever wants to pray to the god of misfortune, so I usually divide my time between helping people in various villages and spending time with my husband. He never wants me to go, but I’m a bit of a wanderer.” He huffed a laugh. “Can’t ever stay in one place for too long. A habit I got into after 800 years of traveling.”
“I can’t believe this,” Wei Wuxian muttered, running a hand down his face. “I…okay. What should I do now? Where do I go from here?”
Xie Lian hummed slightly. The young man was clearly struggling. It was a miracle he hadn’t snapped like he almost had under the pressure. “Perhaps we should start with food and clothing.” Wei Wuxian’s head snapped up, but he ignored the piercing look. “My husband is, in case you didn’t know, quite rich. Not to mention, he has a bit of a tendency to spoil me, so I have a good amount of money on me.” He held up the money bag for emphasis. “If I head into town now, I can get good quality food — meat, vegetables, fruit, bread, and the like — and better clothing for you all.”
When he didn’t respond, Xie Lian felt the need to clarify. “Start small, and then you can tell me everything.” Still no answer. Had he said the wrong thing? It made sense, to try and get everyone comfortable before any real plans were made, but maybe he felt differently…?
“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian said finally, voice hoarse from emotion. “Truly. I…you don’t know how much this means to me.”
“Of course,” Xie Lian said sincerely. “It’s the least I can do.”
“No, no, not just that.” Wei Wuxian exhaled slowly and looked Xie Lian in the eyes. The dark circles underneath his own only emphasized how thin he was stretching himself. “You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to answer my prayer. Fuck, I didn’t even expect you to listen to it. But you did. You listened, and you came, and now you’re offering to help me when you haven’t even heard my side of the story and all you know about me is how evil the Yiling Patriarch is, but you’re going to help anyway and—and it’s more than anyone has done for me in a while. And the Wen Remnants, they deserve better, not me, I deserve everything terrible, but they haven’t done anything and I know it’s not fair to ask this of you but if you help me then they might be able to be saved.”
“Wei-gongzi,” Xie Lian murmured, ever so softly. “You do not deserve everything terrible. And you are not evil. I have found, in my centuries of existence, that no one is ever truly evil. The few who are closest to true evilness are often the ones who are best at hiding it.” He took Wei Wuxian’s hand and smiled kindly. “Everyone can be saved, if only everyone tries hard enough.”
Wei Wuxian took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a long moment before opening them again and looking at Xie Lian, determined.
“To the market, then?” he asked.
***
Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, an actual fucking god was shopping with him in Yiling and promising to protect and/or hopefully save the DafanWen. But on the other hand, this could very well be an extremely elaborate prank.
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Xie Lian. But the god was dressed in robes that were barely higher quality than the rags sewn together that Wei Wuxian was wearing, and he was possibly the strangest person he had ever met.
But then again, how else could he explain the silver butterflies made from resentment that followed Xie Lian everywhere, almost protectively? Maybe this was someone sent by Lan Zhan to help out?
No. Lan Zhan hated him. Lan Zhan wasn’t coming back.
“Oh, I just realized I’m still carrying your sword,” Wei Wuxian said, looking down at the sword he hadn’t let go of for the past half hour. The sheath was simple, but elegant. It fit the god perfectly.
Xie Lian, who had been in the process of buying nice and comfortable clothes for the Wen, turned and glanced down at the sword before tugging his lips up in a smile. “Ah, that’s alright. You can hold onto it for me until we get back.”
“Does it have a name?” Wei Wuxian asked as the merchant was paid and they continued through the market.
“Zhongxin,” he replied, his smile widening. “My husband named it.”
“Your husband. Tell me about him.”
If it was possible, Xie Lian’s beam grew even larger. “You’d know him as Hua Cheng, or Crimson Rain Sought Flower, but to me he’s just my San Lang.” He stopped at a stall and bought a plethora of steamed buns, enough to last them for a week. “He can be a bit, ah, protective over me, and hostile to anyone he doesn’t like, but San Lang really is very sweet when he wants to be.”
Don’t think about Lan Zhan don’t think about Lan Zhan don’t think about Lan Zhan
“My husband, he searched for me for eight hundred years,” Xie Lian continued, examining a meat vendor’s collection. “He saved my life many times, taking on a curse for me and using up all of his spiritual power to free me from my shackles.” His smile turned sad here, in a way that felt all too familiar. “It was a long year without him.”
“It sounds like you love each other very much,” Wei Wuxian said, a lump in his throat.
“I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone else,” the god told him honestly. “And I know he feels the same way about me, although it took more than a few years to really believe that.”
“A love like that feels unreal,” he admitted. “I can’t imagine someone ever loving me that much.”
“You’d be surprised,” Xie Lian said, plucking some potatoes — potatoes! — off a stall. “People love you more than you think they do. Everyone shows love in different ways. You’re used to the way you show love, so when someone doesn’t show it in return, you think they don’t love you back. But you’re wrong. You just have to remember that there are different kinds of love, but each kind is just as important as any other.”
“You know, I think they should promote you to the god of wisdom,” Wei Wuxian joked to hide the vulnerability he suddenly felt.
“Ah, I don’t know about that. I think Ling Wen would be offended if I took that title from her. If anyone deserves it, it’s her.”
Wasn’t Ling Wen a civil goddess? Suddenly, Wei Wuxian felt the urge to ask about all the gods in the heavens. Ming Guang, the new Heavenly Emperor. Xuan Zhen and Nan Yang, the martial gods of the south who were always at odds. The late elemental masters, who had dropped one by one so suddenly. Xie Lian would know them, wouldn’t he? It had to be fascinating, to hear all the stories that he had learned firsthand.
But…the god was nearly a thousand years old. That much time had to come with a heavy dose of trauma. And Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to ask about his life without triggering something. He would know; he’s had his fair share of traumatic experiences himself.
“I think that should be it,” Xie Lian mused after buying a hefty amount of blankets and furniture. “Should we head back, do you think?”
“No, I’m not sure you got enough stuff,” Wei Wuxian said sarcastically.
The god looked concerned. “Oh no, did I forget something? What else should I buy?”
“No, no, that was a joke,” he tried to explain. “You bought more than enough, really. I don’t even know how to begin to thank me.”
Xie Lian laughed awkwardly. “You don’t need to thank me. It’s my husband’s money, technically, so if anything, he should be the one thanked.”
“Then I’ll thank him if I meet him.” He tried not to think about the fact that his husband was Crimson Rain Sought Flower, the ghost king and bane of the heavens. Definitely scarier than the Yiling Patriarch, who was tame in comparison.
They traveled back to the Burial Mounds in silence, Wei Wuxian lowering the wards to let them both back in.
He took the time to introduce Xie Lian to the various people milling around, such as Granny and Uncle Four.
“And you’ve met A-Yuan, of course,” he laughed when A-Yuan cried out, “white-gege!” and barrelled straight into Xie Lian. “He hugs the legs of people he really likes and refuses to let go. It’s quite cute.”
“Don’t you encourage this behavior,” Wen Qing snapped, coming up from behind A-Yuan. “He needs to learn to stop hugging strangers’ legs.”
“Oh, and this is Wen Qing!” Wei Wuxian added, turning to Xie Lian. “She’s our resident doctor and the scariest woman I’ve ever met.” Excluding Madam Yu, who was only dead because of him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wen-daifu,” Xie Lian greeted, bowing deeply and respectfully.
She blinked, taken aback, and then hesitantly bowed back before straightening and turning to Wei Wuxian. “Wei Wuxian, who have you invited this time? This isn’t a sanctuary for every cultivator you feel pity for!”
“My name is Xie Lian,” the god introduced himself. “I’m here to help you and your people, Wen-daifu.”
“I’m pretty sure he bought out at least half of Yiling’s market,” Wei Wuxian added, holding out the qiankun pouch he had stored the purchases in. “We’ll have enough food to last us months! And he got us some new furniture and clothing.”
Wei Wuxian bent down to be eye-level with A-Yuan as he dug through the pouch and produced a handful of toys. “More importantly, some toys for A-Yuan!”
The boy shrieked in delight, jumping away from Xie Lian and reaching out to grasp the various toys they’d gotten. “New toys!”
Wen Qing stared down at A-Yuan and then snapped her gaze to Xie Lian, bowing once more in gratitude. “Thank you for your generosity, Xie-daozhang,” she said. “The DafanWen clan is in debt to you.”
“No need, no need!” Xie Lian laughed nervously. “Helping people is what I do. There truly is no need– really, stand up, stand up! Your thanks aren’t necessary.”
God of kindness indeed. Where was generosity and humility in the list of things Xie Lian was the god of? Wei Wuxian still couldn’t believe he had actually believed the stories about him. After all, the people telling them were the same ones spinning lies about the evil Yiling Patriarch. Liars stay liars.
“If I may ask, Xie-daozhang, what exactly is it that you’re doing here?” Wen Qing pressed, her dark eyes searching for any sign of deceit. “You can’t be helping us out of the goodness of your heart.”
Xie Lian smiled. “Would you believe me if I said that I really, truly was helping out of the goodness of my heart?”
When she didn’t answer and it didn’t seem like the god would continue, Wei Wuxian stepped in. “Aiyah, Qing-jie, he’s here because I asked him for help. Don’t be so uptight.”
Her eyes flicked to him, narrowing dangerously. He had to tread carefully, it seemed. “You asked him,” she repeated flatly. “And why is it, Wei Wuxian, that I haven’t heard you mention a Xie Lian before?”
“Qing-jie, really now. I thought the DafanWen were the more devout of the Wen branches? Have you really not heard of the Crown Prince of Xianle, god of misfortune Xie Lian?” he asked, smirking.
She whipped her head around to take in said crown prince, shock written over her face. “You can’t be serious,” she said.
Wei Wuxian grinned. “Of course I’m not serious! I’m Wei Wuxian!”
The unimpressed look she shot him only made his smile widen. “Are you really who he says you are?” she demanded.
Xie Lian inclined his head. “I assure you, Wen-daifu, I am who I say I am and I am here with good intentions.”
Immediately, Wen Qing dropped to her knees and began to prostrate, which sent Xie Lian into a frenzied panic. “Oh, no no no!” he cried, flapping his hands in distress. “Please don’t— get up, get up! You don’t have to do that, it’s not necessary, you’ll dirty your clothing, Wen-daifu, please.”
He helped her to her feet and offered her another kind smile. “Wei Wuxian prayed to me. I answered. It is my duty as a god to help those in need. You truly do not need to thank me.”
She took a deep breath and inclined her head respectfully. “Then thank you, your highness, from the bottom of my heart.” Wen Qing then turned back to face Wei Wuxian and then proceeded to slap him.
“Owww, Qing-jie!” Wei Wuxian wailed, clutching his “injured” arm. “What was that for?”
“For being a dumbass,” she retorted, before her face softened fractionally. “Also, a letter came for you. From Jinlintai.” Wen Qing handed over a message, which Wei Wuxian accepted, albeit confusedly.
When he read it, his eyes widened. “It’s from my shijie! I’m invited to her son’s one month birthday party!”
While he was ecstatic, Wen Qing looked troubled. “If you’re being formally invited, Jin Guangshan had to have agreed, which means there’s an ulterior motive to the invitation.”
“Aiyah, Wen Qing, let me have this!” he pleaded, looking over the message a second time. “It’s dated two weeks from today! I’ll bring Wen Ning with me, to ease your worries.”
“That’s not it!” she snapped, but Wei Wuxian had grown up around Jiang Cheng and knew perfectly well that she was, in fact, worried about him.
“If I may,” Xie Lian offered, speaking up for the first time in a while. “Could I read that letter, Wei-gongzi?”
“Of course.” He passed it over, watching as the god scanned it and then looked up.
“Wen Ning,” he began. “Who would that be? I don’t think you’ve introduced me to him.”
Wei Wuxian faltered. Right. He had purposefully put off showing Wen Ning to Xie Lian, unsure of how the righteous god would respond to a talking fierce corpse.
“Did someone my name?” Wen Ning asked, coming up from behind Wen Qing. Of course. Leave it to Wen Ning to always arrive perfectly on cue. It was quite endearing, actually.
“Oh.” Xie Lian studied Wen Ning, who studied him right back. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wen-gongzi. My name is Xie Lian.”
“White-gege is a god,” A-Yuan added solemnly, surprising everyone in the vicinity. He’d been so quiet playing with his new toys that they had forgotten he was there. And it seemed he’d inherited Wei Wuxian’s ability to look occupied but actually be listening the whole time. “A god of misforin?”
“Misfortune,” Wen Qing corrected. “He’s god of more things than that, though.”
Wen Ning looked surprised, but he awkwardly bent himself into a bow. “Nice to meet you…” He trailed off, unsure of how to address him.
Xie Lian smiled. “Xie Lian is fine. Or Xie-daozhang. Whichever you prefer.”
Wen Ning stiffly nodded before turning to Wei Wuxian. “Wei-gongzi, did you call for me?” he asked.
“I’m going to Jinlintai in two weeks,” Wei Wuxian explained. “I was wondering if you would accompany me?”
“Actually,” Xie Lian cut in, “I have a proposition for you, Wei-gongzi, on that topic.”
“Yes?”
“From what I can tell, you and Wen Ning are the main protectors of the Burial Mounds, correct?” When Wei Wuxian nodded, he continued. “If both of you go, it’ll leave the people here mostly defenseless.”
“Ah…that’s true.” Wei Wuxian hadn’t thought of that. Some fucking genius he was.
“So I was wondering, Wei-gongzi, if you would permit me to accompany you to Jinlintai. Perhaps I can gain a better understanding of the situation there, and figure out how to help you.”
Xie Lian looked like he wasn’t sure how the query would come across. The Wen siblings, on the other hand, had expressions on their faces that suggested that Wei Wuxian didn’t really get a say in this matter.
“That would be nice,” he said finally. “Thank you, your highness.”
Xie Lian smiled. “Of course,” he replied. “Now, could any of you explain what’s going on?”
Wei Wuxian and the Wens took turns laying out the situation for the god, and by the time they finished, it was time to put the new food to use.
“What’s the occasion, Wei-gongzi?” Uncle Four asked as they prepared the feast. “We only have this much food for special days.”
“Hm,” Wei Wuxian said, tilting his head in thought. “Let’s just say…we might finally have a chance.”
We might finally have someone who will support us, is what he didn’t say.
I might, for the first time in what feels like forever, not be truly alone, is what he didn’t say.