Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian woke up. This was a fairly normal occurrence, except for the fact that just a moment ago, he had been falling to a gruesome death at the hands of the undead, and now he was lying in the middle of a bloody pentagram on the floor of a dirty old shack.
He sat up and looked over himself. He was exactly the same as he remembered: Chenqing dangled loosely in his hand; his black robes and shoes were faintly mottled with dried patches of blood; his hair fanned around him in oily gnarls, held back by only a worn crimson ribbon. He was also breathing and had a pulse, which was unexpected.
“Oh shit,” he heard a voice say faintly. He looked up and saw a shocked young man looking like a wannabe version of himself, dressed up in red and black robes. Blood ran down in crimson rivers from worryingly deep cuts on his arms. “This definitely wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“Mo Xuanyu, Master Wei.” A pause. Then, “You’re much younger than I expected.”
“Of course!” Wei Wuxian smiled widely, pointedly ignoring the formalities. “Women love my youthful charm; after all, I’m only twenty.”
At this, Mo Xuanyu’s eyes softened. “Twenty?” he murmured. “The old stories said the Yiling Patriarch was a monstrous demon wearing the guise of a young man. They said he looked innocent until you looked into his blood-red eyes and saw your doom. But they never said you were so young .”
Wei Wuxian smiled wryly. “Yes, well, it does seem that way doesn’t it.” Wei Wuxian, once known as the flirtatious prodigy of the cultivation world, now the fearsome bogeyman in children's tales. Then, “Old stories?”
“It’s been thirteen years since you died,” Mo Xuanyu said quietly. “I tried to sacrifice my soul to summon you here and possess my body. But I... messed up."
Wei Wuxian examined the circle he lay in. “Ah, well,” he says, “You didn’t call for my soul , you called for my being . As far as I can tell, you searched for Wei Wuxian in his entirety, and you managed to summon me in my original body from the past.”
He looked at him approvingly. "Congratulations, Mo Xuanyu. You're the first person to ever reach into another world."
Mo Xuanyu looked down at his wrists. “I'm dying, though," he said slowly. "I think the array did what it was supposed to - look, you have the same gashes on your wrists. One gash for one person. If you kill them, the wounds will heal; otherwise, your soul will be torn apart, never to reincarnate.”
Well.
“How did you draw this array?” Wei Wuxian asked. The man in front of him was clearly weak in cultivation; his golden core was practically the size of a child’s.
“Ah,” Mo Xuanyu stuttered nervously, “I stole the notes from Wen Ruohan. I was captured by the Wens and--and tortured by Jin Guangyao for entertainment .” His face twisted in rage. “But the four sects launched an attack on the Nightless City--it failed, of course--and I escaped." He hesitated, then looked into Wei Wuxian's eyes determinedly. "I want Jin Guangyao and Wen Ruohan to die.”
Wei Wuxian examined him. He was emaciated, as if a slight breeze could blow him away, and his eyes were sunk deep within his incredibly pale face. His clothes were covered in dust, dirt, and other suspicious stains. The only colorful thing about Mo Xuanyu was the scarlet streams of blood flowing down his arms.
"They said you worked with the Wens, but you have to do what I wish, right?" Mo Xuanyu coughed weakly. "I don't care if you helped the Wens and killed Jin disciples back then. I just want Jin Guangyao and Wen Ruohan to die." He stumbled forward and grasped Wei Wuxian's forearms with bruising strength. "Do you understand? You have to kill them."
Jin Guangyao was a spy, Wei Wuxian recalled. He’d posed as a traitor and became Wen Ruohan’s trusted torturer, and then he’d double-crossed him and stabbed him in the back. Wei Wuxian didn’t trust a Jin as far as he could throw one; as far as he was concerned, Jin Guangyao was a sly, double-faced weakling with a father complex.
“Right,” Wei Wuxian said determinedly. “I'll do it, then.”
Mo Xuanyu smiled weakly, swaying on his feet. “You’re so young, Wei Wuxian,” he said earnestly. “I'm sorry for making you do this. I admire you, I really do. I hope you find happiness in this life.”
He stumbled, and Wei Wuxian rushed forward to catch him. He lowered him slowly to the ground. Mo Xuanyu was too weak to to safely activate the array. Combined with his blood loss, he didn't have long.
“I’m scared,” Mo Xuanyu whispered haltingly. “I thought killing Jin Guangyao and Wen Ruohan would be worth dying for, but I’m still scared.”
“I’m right here,” Wei Wuxian promised him softly. “I’m right here.” He cradled Mo Xuanyu’s head in his lap and held him as he died. It was the last kindness he could give the fragile young man in his arms; if Wei Wuxian was nothing else, he was kind.