Chapter Text
The QishanWen sect had been bragging. Rumors spiraled from the lips of even their lowest cultivators, even the dregs and hangers-on of the sect.
‘Wen Ruohan caught a god.’
‘Wen Ruohan brought down an immortal and trapped them in Nevernight.’
‘The Heavens didn’t punish him for it.’
The great sects ignored it for the most part. It was a laughable idea, that the Wen, strong as they were, clever as they were, could steal away one of the ascended.
They should have listened.
-
It started like this.
YunmengJiang had two heirs, two children, two inheritors to its name and fame. A brother and a sister, both skilled in cultivation and in the 4 Arts, both strong and brave and everything their parents could have ever wanted them to be. The halls are filled with laughter and joy and the bickering of friends and everything is perfect.
Right?
If one was to ask any disciple, they would say so. If one were to ask either of the heirs, they would say so. If one asked the sect leaders, they too would say as such.
If one were to get the lesser heir, Jiang Wanyin drunk, however…
A truly improbable thing.
He would say that there was always something missing. Like a hole you can’t see in your clothing, but that catches the breeze and let cold air through. Like a split in the wood of your boat that cannot be found until you’re sunk and well gone.
If one were to try getting the Heir Apparent drunk, may the heavens guide your soul.
Both would agree, separately, under conditions of inebriation or extreme relaxation, that there was something gone. Not something that had never been there, but something that should be, had been, and now wasn’t.
But there was a shrine, hidden away in the depths of the main hall, that would be ever shining and clean, come hell or high water
-
It also started like this.
Gusu Lan had ever been a quiet sect. A strict, erudite, and exacting place to learn and grow. They had ever only one Heir, Lan Xichen. The Purest Jade of Gusu. He was everything his Uncle could ever have wanted him to be, graceful, strong, charismatic, kind.
Everything in the Cloud Recess was clean and righteous, shining and heroic.
Ask anyone, they would tell you so.
Ask anyone of the disciples and they would tell you so.
Ask any of the elders, and face the prospect of writing down the 3000 rules while doing a handstand.
Ask the Purest White Jade, first among cultivators, peerless among even his own family-
Ask Lan Xichen what was wrong and he would tell you. It was like a missed string on the guqin, a filled-in hole of a flute. There was something missing. Something gone.
There was a thread, pulled from the tapestry of his life, not enough to make it fully unwind but-
But there was a shrine, deep in the corners of the main quarters, that never gathered dust.
-
It went like this.
Once, there were two young gods.
They were in love.
They are in love.
They would forever, be in love.
The end.
-
It all came down.
One day, Wei WuXian, the Patron God of YunmengJiang, Patron of Musical Cultivation, went a-walking. He left his flute, his sword, and his fan, and he took to the material world to see everything it had to offer. Far from the borders of his domain, with no surviving icons left to him, there was no one left alive who would recognize him for what he truly was.
He wore the shadows like a cloak, wove the outer layers of fire and starlight. And walked right into the hands of Wen Ruohan.
There had been a trap, laid at the root of a mountain. An old trap, left from the year of War, when gods walked as cultivators and fought as such and took sides.
That time was long gone.
Wei WuXian had yet to ascend during that time, and so did not recognize the formation, even as it glowed a sickly green under his feet.
He was well and truly trapped. The power leached into his bones, forming a heavenly shackle around his neck, a chain that he could not touch, not move, that only obeyed the will of the Wen Sect Leader. A muzzle, so that he could not call up to the heavens, to warn them, to beg-
Lan Zhan!
-
Lan Wangji had ever been the Patron God of Gusu Lan. He watched it form, watched it grow, year after year, generation after generation.
One day, Lan Wangji, Patron God of Gusu Lan, Patron God of Sword Based Cultivation, went a-walking.
Well, a-running. Chasing?
The starlight of his love had winked out. Unlike Wei WuXian however, he could not leave. He could not go past the very edges of his territory, so tightly were the ribbons of duty bound around him. He could not leave, he could not help. Until-
Great Ancestor, we go to war. Bless our blades, guide our hearts. Please,
Help us.
The materialization of a god was rare. Was draining, on both the summoner and the summoned, but Lan Wangji saw his chance and seized it with both hands. The young disciple kneeling before his altar, the heir to Gusu, had more propriety than most and politely refrained from screaming. Lan Xichen bowed, forehead almost to the stainless ground.
“Revered Immortal, how may this humble one assist?”
Lan Wangji had a face like ice, like jade. Expressionless, yet if Wei WuXian had been there, he would have said his Lan Zhan was smiling.
“Who do you oppose,” The god asked, “what is their crime.”
“The QishanWen sect. They have killed our people, my-” Lan Xichen swallowed back the tears. “My friends. They are set on ruling over both Heaven and Earth and it is said…”
Lan Wangji waited.
“It is said,” said Lan Xichen, “That they have captured a god. The Patron God of Musical Cultivation. I would set him free.”