With all of the hot weather, it is time to spend some cooler evenings reading shorter stories. Here are a few more tales you can spend some of your time reading. Some of these are from the Collection titled Tales from the Burial Mounds.
a child of the burial mounds by MichelleFeather
4k words
âDo you trust me?â
The room was silent as his words processed in their minds.
âOf course Sizhui.â
âAlways.â
He turned his head over his shoulder, watching as the pairâs eyes widened.
âNo one will get away with this.â
In which Lan Sizhui leaves the Cloud Recesses for a while, after both of his fathers are ambushed and nearly killed. Post-canon.
tiny gentians by humancorn
1k words
âI see you still have a little shadow following you around, Wangji.â
In which Lan Wangji must come to terms with the consequences of scolding a 5 year old Wei Ying. Cloud Recesses Study Arc.
A Quiet Life of Leisure by nirejseki
8k words
âWhat do you mean Yueheng-xiong is gone?â Lan Qiren asked when he found out. âHe normally logs all his travel well in advance of leaving the sect, and he hasnât registered anything like that for this time. The Cloud Recesses is only so large, surely heâs just hidden himself somewhere you havenât checked?â
âNo, Sect Leader, he left,â the disciple said stubbornly. âI checked with the gate guards and everything. They said he looked like he was following some sort of compass.â
In which Wei Ying is rescued in Yiling by a decidedly different sort of Lan after his parents do not return from a nighthunt. Sort-of follows canon to a point in the Sunshot campaign, without the pining and obliviousness between the two main characters.
The frosty blade, as yet untried by Ashura
10k words
[Must have an account with Archive of Our Own in order to read. An invitation is readily provided on the website.]
The child was quiet at last. He was perched on Song Lanâs knees, babbling half-coherently to himself in a burbling little sing-song. He was also chewing on the edges of Song Lanâs guan, covering it in child-slobber and greasy fingerprints.
It would probably not be wearable again. But since it was already a lost cause, he might as well sacrifice it now. It was only an ornament, after all, and what was one more sacrificeâsuch a small one!âin light of everything?
What was an ornament in light of so many lives, changed and lost and offered again? In light of love, and hatred, and second chances?
In which Song Lan embarks on a quest to find Xiao Xingchen, again. Post-canon, mixing present, past and another chance through vignettes that involve Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen, with some help from a certain pair of cultivators. And an immortal.
Imagine, if you will, that these two met and became buddies prior to their respective love confessions. Instead of LZ seeing WY hanging out
Becomes more au-like as it rambles forth. On Proofreading is an ongoing thing.
+
Turns out it's real. WY's ghosts start whispering to him about this newcomer. He just gets flashes of green. He begins to sense powerful ghost qi close to his village and that's when some of his Wens go missing. Infuriated, he begins systematically grid searching the Mounds. He finds Qi Rong holed up in a disused cave, with three Wens tied up, monologuing about how there's nothing good to eat here and what's the point if none if his new minions can leave the place? He's been holding off on eating any Wens bc he is leery of WY. He can't figure out what he is. Powerful but no core. Not dead bt not exactly brimming w yang. And he has the weirdest minion QR has ever seen ... That Wen Ning kid is downright scary. Not to mention how his own new minions seem way more deferential to the necromancer than they are to QR. A rude way to treat this ancestor, in QR's opinion. Maybe he could think better on a full stomach. He's just making up his mind to pick a Wen for breakfast when he hears a flute.
The flute is talking to him. It's like a siren. It's telling him all sorts of lovely things. It sounds like vengeance. It sounds like hot blood. It sounds like ...
... sweeping? Why is he sweeping? Where did he even get this shitty broom? Where is he? He looks around and realizes he's trapped at the back of a large cavern by a formidable array of talismans. The floor is very clean in his immediate vicinity.
He finally registers that he has an audience. Guzi, some strange kid, and that fucking necromancer.
"What the dog fuck did you do to this ancestor?? Who do you think you are? Scrawny little necromancer reeking of your own blood! What are you doing with my cheap son?? Son?? Did you sell your old man out? I should have eaten you last week!" With horror, QR realizes he's sweeping again. "Shit!" as he throws the broom away like it's a deadly viper.
"Mr. Wei, will Papa be ok?"
"Well that depends on whether he makes good choices. Right A'Yuan? Good choices are important." WY Is sitting comfortably against the wall adjacent, tattered black and red robes pooled around him, holding the godforsaken flute across his bony knees like he doesn't have a care in the world. He's flipping the red tassel up and down with his index finger.
AY nods solemnly and holds Guzi's hand.
"Fuck you! I'll pull out your innards and make a necklace of your ears, you -- "
"Ah, I think you missed a spot over there." WY indicated toward the broom using the flute as a pointer.
"STOP. What do you want from this ancestor? What did I ever do to you??" QR pulled at his hair as he ranted, somehow managing to pace over near the broom again. It really was a shitty broom. Surprising that it could even sweep properly. Looked like two twigs stuck together with spit. See, it can't even catch that little loose bit of sand there... so annoying ...
"SHIT!" QR stared at the hateful tool in his hands. This time he didn't even bother throwing it away. He just focused really hard on staying still.
"I've never seen Papa sweep before..." mused Guzi.
"Did HE put you up to this? That dogfucker Red? He's always trying to find a new way to catch me up! He's just jealous of my good looks! Not everyone can wear green, you know! That's what my old bitch mother used to say. She said a lot of things. She wouldn't even recognize me now, though. Wearing this worn out meat suit, it's clearly an Autumn, and I'm supposed to be a true Spring! Dear old Ma would croak...HA if she weren't already dead as my balls!" Qi Rong carefully swept around the perimeter of his enclosure, not touching the strategically placed talismans. Still, when the broom's bedraggled bristles came within a foot of one, all the hair on his arms stood up. He let out a sob.
"Please... just... what do you want?" he whispered, uncharacteristically subdued.
"Well, now that we can converse like civilized gentlemen, what I want is for you to vacate my Mounds and leave my people alone. I don't know who you are or why you're here, but this place is under my protection." The necromancer tapped the flute on his temple. Qi Rong shivered.
"You don't KNOW me? You claim not to know THE Night Touring Green Lantern Qi Rong, King of Ghouls? Supreme Calamity Devastation level GHOST Qi Rong? You're kidding with this ancestor."
Wei Ying raised his eyebrows. "Devastation, you say? Truly? I had no idea." Truth be told, Wei Ying had only read about such things, and didn't put too much stock in it. Supposedly there was a cursed mountain that routinely spat out extremely powerful ghosts, some sort of crucible situation, but the texts were pretty sparse, and it sounded like a load of hokum to Wei Ying. Something to scare A'Yuan with on a cold evening.
"But you're not even a proper ghost, much less a Devastation level one. Look, you're possessing a mortal body. You're just a squatter."
With each word, Qi Rong's complexion changed colors.
"You...! Why...!! You little weirdo, cock warming meat sock of a necromancer, I --"
"Now now. There are children present." Wei Ying placed the black bamboo flute to his lips. Qi Rong fell to his knees.
"Anything. Anything you want. Just no more flute!"
"Ok then. An esteemed Ghost King like yourself deserves an escort, right? Wen Ning!" QR's blood-shot eyes darted to the shadows. A lanky figure skulked out into the light of the lantern. It waved listlessly at Qi Rong.
"Um, hi."
Qi Rong was speechless for a beat. "You're sending me off with HIM? THAT? That thing?"
"Tsk, rude. Don't take it to heart Wen Ning."
"I'm not," Wen Ning answered. Now Qi Rong was sure this undead guy hadn't changed inflection, but he felt as if Wen Ning and the Yiling Laozu were laughing at him.
"Baba, I think Mr. Green Ghost is tired. He needs a sandwich and a nap. Right Mr. Green Ghost? When I'm having a bad day, a sandwich and nap makes me feel a lot better." AY and Guzi nodded in tandem.
Wei Ying looked at the possessed man carefully. Guzi claimed to be his child, but Wei Ying was dubious about sending a child with that creature. And AY had enjoyed having another child around. Maybe it would behoove Wei Ying to study on this Ghost King business a bit before making a decision on next steps. Besides, another set of undead hands might prove useful around the village for the time being.
"You know what, A'Yuan, I think you're right. I think Mr. Green Ghost is very hungry and very tired. No one behaves their best when they're hungry and tired. Will you take your new friend Guzi to see PoPo and ask her for three sandwiches, please? And a jug of water? I'll just keep Mr. Ghost here company."
Qi Rong had collapsed at some point into a pitiful heap that only twitched every now and then. He didn't even have the energy to curse. He heard the word "sandwich" and it was now all he could think about. He clutched the handle of the hateful broom like a lifeline. "Sandwich," he muttered. How had it come to this?
The necromancer didn't torment him, but only observed him until the kids came back laden with what turned out to NOT be sandwiches at all. They had some kind of thin soup and flat bread. Not even any rice. But Qi Rong had lost all will to complain. He soaked the hard bread in the soup and slurped at it like an old man. He felt like an old man. He felt he'd aged a thousand years in a day, and not in a cool way. That kid had certainly done this to him somehow. Why had he never gotten around to eating him?
Wei Ying watched the ghost-squatter with interest. The body he inhabited was young and fairly strong, but thin, and not well-cared for. He wore his hair in a strange way that WY had never seen before, a kind of half-up knotted twist that seemed both foreign and old fashioned. But other than that, there wasn't much of note about him. Wei Ying could see the family resemblance to Guzi, but was puzzled about how this arrangement had some to be. Had he sired the child before or after being possessed by the ghost? The idea of that ghost lying with someone made Wei Ying shudder. Hopefully before, then. He had a feeling there was a big story behind all of this. The mystery of it all nagged heavily at him. And he wanted to find out more about the nature of this supposed Devastation.
The two boys ate their lunch and prattled quietly to each other. Qi Rong slurped up the last of his turnip soup and wiped out the bowl with the last scrap of flat bread.
"Gongzi."
Qi Rong spasmed in surprise. He'd forgotten about the dead man, who had stood still and silent as a stone in the shadows the whole time, like an unlit lamp.
"Yeah, you can go, Wen Ning. Sorry to keep you. I'll let you know if I need anything. Go, go. Say hi to your sister."
The food had calmed Qi Rong, who now only muttered under his breath as he picked the gooey bread out from his back teeth with a finger. WY grimaced. At least he wasn't cursing a blue streak anymore. WY was pretty sure he was going to hear A'Yuan call someone "dog fucker" in the next few days. How would he explain that to PoPo and the good doctor? Wei Ying was also grimacing for another reason. He knew he didn't have the resources here to learn anything new about ghosts. He also knew who did. But he couldn't leave them alone with this creature he was so ignorant about. He would have to send Wen Ning out. Meanwhile, A'Yuan had a friend, and he could try to pick the kid's brain about his "Papa" a bit more, once the kids woke up from the spontaneous nap they were taking on the pallet of Wei Ying's cloak.
The ghost was staring sleepily into the middle distance as Wei Ying inspected his talismans and made a couple of small adjustments. He seemed to be in a sort of stupor. Interesting. Was it a side effect of the flute? This was a new set of circumstances for Chenqing, after all. And in spite of his demeanor, influencing the ghost hadn't been particularly easy on Wei Ying. His own lids felt heavy, but a nap could wait. He stood and rifled through his piles of papers for a blank piece and set about preparing to write a note. Guzi snored softly on the floor, one arm thrown over A'Yuan's face as the two slumbered in that boneless way that kids do. Qi Rong's muttering, too, had quieted, and the ghost looked temporarily inanimate.
"Dear Lan Zhan, Esteemed Hanguang jun Lan Wangji Greetings from Hell Lan Zhan, it's been awhile..."
****
Hua Cheng stood at the trailhead, squinting up at the hills through the gloomy fog that enshrouded the seemingly endless legions of dead trees. Nothing moved. A raven croaked somewhere in the distance, muffled by the hanging moisture in the air. This was where his spies had alerted him that Qi Rong had holed up. This...pit. Carnal house. Terrible place. It had been many decades since Hua Cheng had last checked in there. The site of an ancient battle, the dirt was cursed and thick with resentment. Hua Cheng new of it only because he took note of ghostly landmarks. He knew that a certain level of ghost could get sucked in, here, and was unlikely to leave of its own accord once ensnared. The allure of easy resentment, the ambiance, whatever it was, attracted them like flies to a carcass. But something had changed. Hua Cheng could feel the wards like steel spiderwebs pressing against his skin. Strong. Unusual. Some talented individual had set up a semi-permeable mesh around the place that seemed designed to keep ghosts from wandering in or out. The ward registered on Hua Cheng, but only because he was testing it on purpose. As a Supreme, he could easily mimic the qi signature required to gain entry or exit here, even against such clever wards as these. But why were they there and who had placed them? They made sensing Qi Rong more difficult. Not impossible, but Hua Cheng had to concentrate a bit to feel him. He was definitely in there. Hua Cheng wouldn't have bothered, but the green bastard had stolen something from Ghost City and Hua Cheng intended to take it back personally, with as much extra flesh as felt like decent recompense for the trouble. He sighed. If only Dianxia hadn't asked him to go easy on Qi Rong...
The Green Ghost was a pest. He should have long since dispersed him, but then He Xuan had suggested it might be better to have him around as a mostly-harmless distraction for mortals, while he and Hua Cheng attended to their affairs. He wasn't Supreme, and Hua Cheng could easily have been done with him once and for all. But it was true, his antics at the edges of the mortal world were upsetting enough that it took all the attention from wandering cultivators and bored gods and gave the two Supremes rooms to breathe. But it appeared the moron had gotten himself in a real pickle this time. No doubt he had pushed past the wards, foolishly thinking he was too powerful to be trapped on the other side with all the rest of the ghosts and haints that had been sequestered there by the mysterious setter of the wards. Well, Hua Cheng had time. He would just hide out and watch. He had grown more and more curious about the mind behind those wards the longer he had tasted them on the back of his tongue. Truly, very unique indeed. There was a murky quality to them, and something vaguely familiar to Hua Cheng's spiritual palate that he couldn't quite place. It was like trying to figure out what air smelled like, behind all the other odors it carried. The resentment here was so thick, so stagnant, that it felt as if his mind were wading through thick mud. Strong, fertile, but ultimately unmoving mud. He no longer had any need for or particular attraction to resentment. It made him up entirely, and he had in turn molded it into a tool that obeyed its master completely, allowing him unparalleled ghostly power. Again, the way air -- so common -- could be honed to a razor point so sharp it could cut diamonds. Yes, Hua Cheng would stay and wait, and watch.
****
Xie Lian was fishing. He lay languidly on a broad rock with one hand trailing in the cold water, seemingly asleep. His bamboo hat covered his face from the sun. But he was quite awake, and was waiting for the telltale slick pass of a fish's back against his fingertips. Then he would quickly snatch the fish up. He wasn't fishing for himself, but for the wedding of a village girl near Puqi Shrine. He wanted to give a good gift of fish for the wedding feast. He knew this particular stream for having good, fat trout, their speckled rosy sides flashing in the dappled sunlight as they darted after insects being dragged along by the current. There would be fifty guests at the wedding, so he planned to catch fifty fish, plus an especially nice large one for the bride and groom. His basket trailed in the icy water, already partly full. By his count, he only needed fifteen more...
Surprisingly, Xie Lian managed to catch all his fish and make it to the wedding on time, and got the opportunity to bless the bride and groom and gift them with a huge trout to bring good luck and abundance to the marriage, all without incident. The villagers were very happy with the fish feast. Xie Lian was humming happily to himself as he strolled back up to Puqi Shrine, his belly full of trout and perhaps a few too many wedding sweets. As he crested the small hill, he heard an "Ahem."
Aaah. Well.
He smiled brightly at Nan Feng. Fu Yao stood to the side some distance away, pretending to examine a rather nice little decorative maple that Xie Lian had been tending to.
"To what does this one owe the honor?" he asked gently.
"Ah, the Emperor would like to...request...your assistance on a small mission, um, information gathering." Nan Feng looked uncomfortable. Fu Yao looked everywhere but at Xie Lian.
"You smell like fish," blurted Fu Yao, apparently to the decorative maple.
"Oh, ah ha, wedding. I was just returning from the feast, as a matter of fact, and haven't had time to freshen up. Jun Wu, you say? Wants me for this mission?"
"Yes, that's right. Information gathering. Nothing too involved."
"Well, come in, and I'll make tea while you fill me in on the details."
As they walked, Nan Feng explained.
"There's some kind of disturbance down by Yiling. Jun Wu would like you to go check it out and report back to him."
"With our help!" Fu Yao interjected.
"Right." Nan Fang side-eyed his companion. "Fu Yao, you really didn't have to come."
"What do you mean? Of course I had to."
Xie Lian watched all of this with amusement. Feng Xin and Mu Qing must know he wasn't fooled by these disguises, but they seemed particularly attached to them. Who was he to interfere with their fun? He went to his tiny personal room in the back of the shrine to wash his face and hands, and changed into another of his old white robes. This one smelled very faintly of pickles, and he recalled the Pickling Incident from a couple of weeks ago. He lamented. Would he never get the pickle smell out? Better than fish, he supposed. At least the robe was clean. Extremely clean, other than the smell, after five washings in various concoctions recommended by various villagers.
Still smells? the grandma with the sparkling eyes asked with sympathy. Those must have been some serious pickles.
You have no idea, Xie Lian had laughed.
Xie Lian returned to the main room, and Fu Yao immediately wrinkled his nose.
"Don't say it." Xie Lian cut him off with a blush.
"Don't say what?" Fu Yao asked innocently.
He served them tea. They took their cups nervously. Fu Yao, unsurprisingly, sniffed his. Nan Fang looked stoic as he took a tiny sip. When nothing happened, he let out a whoosh of breath.
"I can make tea," Xie Lian said simply.
"That's true," Fu Yao added. "Anything with fewer than three ingredients is safe. I forgot." He sipped his tea comfortably.
"Does water count as an ingredient?" Nan Fang asked dubiously.
"This is Xie Lian we're talking about," Fu Yao whispered into the middle distance.
Nan Fang finished his cup and set it down decisively. "So, we should make our way down to Yiling as soon as possible. Preferably now."
For a few short seconds, Xie Lian felt sad about the glorious nap he was going to miss. But duty was duty, and when duty called, Xie Lian, somewhat newly re-ascended god of something or other, answered.
To be fair, Xie Lian had warned them against using the distance shortening array. He sighed as he shook the dust off his hems and continued trudging along the hot road. At least he'd kept his hat this time. What a bleak place. Even in the hot midday sun, it had a surly look about it. Up to the right, the land rose slowly and seemed to swallow the light as it did so, the trees darkening and twisting together, a heavy mist coalescing among the diseased looking branches. Creaking announced the arrival of a drover on an ox cart, his face swathed in damp cloth to keep off the heat. The man didn't appear to notice Xie Lian at all, and the tired looking ox trudged slowly onward in the opposite direction.
"Sir! Ox driver! Excuse me!" Xie Lian called out.
Reluctantly, the man slowed his cart. "Yeah-ah??"
"Am I close to Yiling by any chance?"
"Yeah-ah, keep south another two miles," the man drawled, and shook his reins, moving off again.
"Oh, good, thank you!" Xie Lian was relieved, but worried about his two companions. They seemed very sure the array would function perfectly. More than likely, it had for them, and they had arrived in the middle of Yiling Town, sans Xie Lian. They ought to know better by now, certainly, he thought to himself.
He continued, wishing sorely for a flask of water. He could probably pop into the edge of the woods and find a spring, but the woods didn't seem very inviting. Just then, a burst of crows exploded from the dark treetops of those selfsame woods. Xie Lian squinted. He had a vague sense of foreboding. Nonsense. He shook himself. The atmosphere was oppressive, certainly, but there was no need to imagine things to be worse than they were. He looked around behind him, half hoping to see the ox driver still in the distance, but he was gone. Slowly, he turned back to the south. And froze.
There in the middle of the road about fifty yards ahead of him was a dark figure. It wavered slighly in the afternoon haze like a mirage. It was a man, tall but with a vaguely hunched posture that made him seems smaller. His robes were dark and plain. He wore a conical hat of straw to shade his face from the unrelenting sun, and he appeared to be walking slowly north toward Xie Lian. Xie Lian had no particular reason to relate the ominous atmosphere, the crows, and this traveler, but his hindbrain did it for him anyway. He tensed slightly. A cold sensation crept up his spine even as the sweat droplets rolled down into his collar. Just continue on as if all is well, he told himself. No need to engage with this strange fellow. Just keep walking, one foot in front of the other, we don't want any trouble, we just --
"Hello?" a soft, deep voice called out. Or rather, mumbled loudly. Xie Lian froze. The stranger also froze.
They stood about ten yards apart now, close enough for Xie Lian to see the deathly pallor of the man's bare hands and neck below the rim of that hat. Was he ill? Was he... even alive? Xie Lian suddenly shuddered, full-body. There was something very, very wrong with this man, if he was indeed a human being. The thin figure stood very awkwardly, as if he'd frozen just in the seconds before turning and running for his life. He wrung his pasty hands.
"Um, ahem, yes? Hello... sir? Do you need assistance?" Xie Lian tried to sound as pleasant and non-threatening as possible. The figure seemed to stand up straight for just a moment, but quickly shrunk back into his customary slouch, as though embarrassed.
"No! Nope! Um, thank you very much, but no. Thank you." The deep, soft mumble reached Xie Lian's ears just fine, and he was suddenly struck with the deep weirdness of the entire situation. Brilliant midday sun. Parched and dusty red dirt of the road. Pale, almost colorless cloudless sky, but the gloomy forest rising up along one side like a bank of storm clouds, holding mist like a thick blanket of spiderwebs across the tree tops. Then this strange, dark man. But he wasn't really dark, was he? He was rather pale, actually, and something about him said "youth" to Xie Lian's eye. His clothing had probably once been dark, but was now all made up of shades of faded soot and gray, and only seemed dark in contrast to the deep red of the road they both stood upon. Suddenly it all seemed very funny to Xie Lian. In fact, he chuckled aloud.
The stranger jumped at the sound. A slow hand rose to the rim of his straw hat, and pushed it back just enough for Xie Lian to see the man's face. His chuckling slowed, and he cleared his throat.
The young man before him was certainly dead. There was no doubt whatsoever. But here he was. And he wasn't a ghost, either. He was solid and real as Xie Lian himself. His face was long and colorless, and his eyes were like deep black pits, great and sad, and reflected nothing of the brilliant daylight surrounding them both.
"Oh," sighed Xie Lian. "Oh, you poor dear."
****
Wei Ying crouched next to his ailing lotus pond. The worst heat of the day was passing. Even here under the constant fog of the Mounds, the heat could get oppressive. The place was always quiet, except for the susurration of the languid air through the half-dead leaves of the half-dead trees, and the cicadas. Or at least, Wei Ying assumed it was cicadas. He had never actually seen one on the Mounds, but in the summer, he could hear them. Or something like them, anyway, droning on and on. It lent a weird hypnotic feeling to the already bizarre atmosphere. Maybe he was just hearing cicadas from some area distant from the Burial Mounds, carrying strangely on the twisted landscape. They sure sounded close though. What sunlight managed to peep through the mist these days, ever more frequent since Wei Ying had reined in the rampant resentment and particularly foul presences in the hills, was tinted a strange greenish yellow, like a bruise, or like the light before a particularly virulent and sudden storm. But it was better than nothing. He looked at his weak little lotus plants. Unbelievably, they had sprouted. He'd been sure they were dead at the end of the season last summer. Maybe the sickly sunlight was working its humble magic. The leaves were small, still no broader than Wei Ying's palm, and he doubted they would ever bloom. Not enough sun for that. But the little disks of weak green still made him smile every time he saw them.
He had left Qi Rong muttering and starting up a new round of cursing back in the Demon Subduing Cave. The "sandwich and nap" seemed to have worked to a degree, in that he wasn't weeping or threatening to eat anyone's entrails or anything. He just had an extremely foul mouth, and if the things he said weren't half-believable, it would have made Wei Ying laugh heartily. The knowledge that this ghost had very likely actually eaten people was not a comforting one. As silly as he seemed, he was dangerous. How he had managed to keep that poor child Guzi alive, or why, was a mystery.
Hopefully Wen Ning would have no trouble reaching Lan Zahn and passing on his message of request. Wen Ning didn't require rest, and could jog on for hours on end without stopping to eat, drink, or piss. He could be at Gusu far quicker than anyone that wasn't riding a sword. He ought to have been well out of the area by now, headed north along Single Plank Road. That was a name only Wei Ying used for the strip of red dirt that ran up from Yiling past the Mounds to points north. He wasn't sure what the real name was, actually. Probably something bloody. Most of the landmarks around here had unfortunately nostalgic names. Dead Man's Leap. Hammersplit Creek. Six Blood Alley. The exception that proved the rule was Morning Glory Crest, but Wei Ying was almost positive that "morning glory" was a euphemism for something absolutely horrible. This was Yiling after all. It was obviously so horrendous it had to be named something benign in self defense. All Wei Ying knew was that if one were so inclined, one could climb up there and see most of Single Plank Road between the Mounds and the next unnamed small town ten miles further north, meandering in and out of the slowly flattening hills like a rivulet of gore. He smiled fondly to himself.
Well, that's that, then. No stopping the messenger now. It was out of Wei Ying's hands. Even if he completely changed his mind, it would be too late to recall Wen Ning (technically it was not), and there was nothing Wei Ying could do to stop his inevitable progress toward Gusu (there was, actually). Good.
Just then he heard a raucous cacophony from the trees and saw a number of crows light out into the sky like black fireworks. Hmm. That was quite the uproar for the creatures around the Mounds, where most things stayed as quiet and out of sight as possible. Take the cicadas for instance. Wei Ying knew there were animals about, he had seen the spoor. Foxes. Weasels. A bobcat that was missing a toe on its right forepaw, somehow. But he had never seen any of these creatures in the flesh. Invisibility meant staying alive to leave more spoor. It made sense. Even the crows were uncharacteristically quiet here, so hearing them let loose like that was actually pretty startling. He stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees and hands, and looked around. Summoning a thread of the inky black chill that ran through his veins, he reached out with a whistle... report.
Sssss....sssshhh...... st-st-st-sssssssssss...... Laotzssssuuuu.... watched like a moussssse... sduh-sduh-studhddddtsssssssss ssh ssh. SSH. HUSH. HUSH. QUIET.
Wei Ying winced and pulled back a bit. They were restless. More restless now than when that green ghost showed up. Something had definitely set them off. It wouldn't be the first time. They had gotten in a tizzy once before a few months prior, flashing images of white white white white at him until he was unable to think, unable to make any sense at all of what he was sensing. He figured it had to be something powerful passing by. Whatever it was, it hadn't come too near the Mounds, not near enough to touch the wards. He'd gone around, strengthening the wards and adding some new things here and there, until he was depleted from blood loss and had to lie down for a couple of days. Wen Qing had yelled at him the whole time he was recuperating. But his instincts were usually pretty good, and he wasn't in the mood for surprises. Nothing had come of it, in the end.
He tried to slowly tune back in, prepared for some backlash this time.
Flashes. Pulses. Red pillows? What? Black. More red. Red satin bedding, sliding and slipping endlessly. It made Wei Ying rather uncomfortable, like witnessing something intimate. He shook his head. Make some sense, he pushed.
Purrrrrrrrrrrr prrrretty bird, prrrretty red bird with a big big big and shiny talon.... talon... t t t alon. Deadly deadly deadly, little crow. Deadly deadly deadly deadly deadly --
Ok, ok, I get it. There was someone or something near, something associated with the color red, that was dangerous, and not only that, but at least a few of his ghosts were quite attracted to this being. Great. Fantastic. Thankfully they were far more terrified than they were attracted. He didn't dare to imagine what the "shiny talon" was that was so "big big big." He really hoped it was a sword. He really did.
Great timing. Clearly fate was lining him up to get involved in some new disaster, as if he didn't have enough trouble as it was. First this green ghoul squatter ghost and tagalong child, now this. Was it an inauspicious time, astrologically? Was something in retrograde? He really wanted a drink. He let his feet carry him toward the makeshift tavern/restaurant/mess hall where the hooch was brewed. He had some fruit wine that should be just about ready. His head was beginning to throb, as it often did after receiving reports from the spirits of this place. They generally looked upon him, if not kindly, at least as one of them, and a few probably genuinely liked him or appreciated his efforts to protect his own. He was sure there were Wens among them. This place had been the Wen dumping ground for decades. Anyone they wanted to see disappear, disappeared into the Mounds. They went in alive or dead and never came out either alive or dead. Mostly the hapless victims dissolved into the soil and trees, not having enough resentment to fuel a full ghostly manifestation, but certainly not resting easily.
Once a place had been steeped in resentment, it became a sort of sinkhole toward which all creatures fuelled by resentment would funnel. Like marbles rolling on an uneven surface, the unhappy dead rolled toward the lowest point, and as far as Wei Ying knew, that lowest point for a thousand miles in any direction was the Burial Mounds. He had set up his special filtering wards specifically to help the wandering dead who weren't already here from wandering in and getting stuck. It also prevented a couple of nasties from getting out and causing problems around Yiling. Predatory ghosts had taken up residence at some point prior to Wei Ying's gentrification, feeding off smaller ghosts and generally making a menace of themselves. He had them bound below the Demon Subduing Cave.
People thought the name was just a joke. Ask him if he was joking at three in the morning when That Bastard was restless. And the nights of the dark moon when the Three Ladies would wake up. Sometimes both at the same time. And Wen Qing wondered why he had insomnia. On those nights, it was much easier to distract himself inventing talismans or coming up with new additions to the wards than to lie in the dark and listen to those...creatures...whispering at him. With a lot of effort, he had managed to quiet them for the most part. In some ways, it only made their noisy nights seem louder.
He didn't know where any of them had come from, or what they wanted initially. Some ghosts simply got a taste for resentment, like liquor, and it became their reason for existing. To devour it and to accumulate it with no particular goal in mind. He labeled such beasts "predatory ghosts." He was well on his way to creating a taxonomy of the Unhappy Dead. He figured there must be something driving them, some natural force. Death and all it's phenomenon was natural, after all, and in nature, everything had some reason for being and acting the way it did, if a person thought about it carefully enough. So what was the ultimate reason for a ghost to feel driven to accumulate power, if not to complete its unfinished business or vent its resentment in some fashion or another?
This brought his mind back to the questions he had about Qi Rong and what it meant to be a Devastation level ghost. The idea of levels of ghosts was pretty old fashioned. Cultivators these days tended to not get too fiddly about categorizing them anymore. There were just the levels of difficulty in moving them on or dispersing them. In fact, by Wei Ying's way of thinking, it was a hugely neglected science. The way the cultivation world ignored the finer points of ghostly existence seemed almost superstitious, as if ignoring these things would make them cease to exist. Clearly their ancestors had thought about this stuff before. He could still see the handwriting of the ancient scroll he'd gotten to see in the Gusu library, the word "devastation" written carefully in a precise calligraphy that screamed sobriety and sincerity. Of course, the scroll was incomplete, much of it having crumbled away before the Lans could preserve what remained. It had been found in an old temple uncovered during a civic project outside the Old Capitol. Oh, Wei Ying would have given his right eye to have been there. He actually proposed a new field of study, searching out and digging up old places, cataloging what was found, but the teachers at Gusu had rolled their eyes and harrumphed and ignored him. Superstitious. Fearful.
Just then, a very strange thing happened. Wei Ying sat down. Something had rippled across the Burial Mounds like a cold current lurking in the depths of the warm waters at Yunmeng. All the hairs on his body had stood, and he had lost sensation in his legs. Just for a moment. Just long enough to put him on his rear end on the cockeyed bench outside the mess hall. He stared at the backs of his arms, watching the hairs slowly lie back down. Then the cold sweat on his brow.
From across the village, he heard Qi Rong screeching. "What in the motherless dog's name was that? Hey! Hey! You can't leave me in here to die! I can't defend myself in here! If some shit is going down, I need to be able to move around! This ancestor is useless in tight spaces! Hey! Bastards and sons of bitches and jackals for uncles! Where's Guzi?? HEY!"
Last time I wrote about Mo Xuanyu, I focused on shorter stories with multiple themes. This time, I want to present two stories with similar themes: What if Mo Xuanyu did not really want to die during the Ritual? And how does that make a difference?
Pebble in the Deep by catchmeifyoucreon
Explicit
AU - Canon Divergence
21 chapters
184k words
He washed away the most obvious evidence from that night; he didnât think it would be fair to leave Wei Wuxian to deal with that. Waking from thirteen years of death would be overwhelming enough, without wondering how your new body had come to be so used. Besides, the Yiling Laozu would never let another man do something like that to him, no matter how beloved that man might have been; he would likely be horrified, if he realised what sort of person had dared to bring him back.
The marks on his hips, though, in the shape of dark, purple fingerprints, he could do nothing about. Not with a golden core as weak as his. This frail body, all but mediocre, was truly nothing worthy of the Yiling Laozu, once the most powerful man in the cultivation world.
But Mo Xuanyu was the only one who could perform the ritual now. It would have to do. Wei Wuxian would no doubt find a way to return to his rightful power, even in such a shell of a body, bruised by hands far stronger than his own.
Despite all this, he knew he wouldnât have erased those fingerprints if he could. How could he deny himself that much? He wanted to have one last good thing to hold onto as he left the world, even if it was to be irrevocably tainted with the grief of the parting. He wanted to go into his death bearing these marks from the hands of another â marks borne of passion, willingly taken, as opposed to the cold-blooded violence he was about to inflict on himself.
He wondered if Wei Wuxian would notice the bruises, among all the other injuries he would wake up wearing. If he would ask about them.
If he would be given the answer.
He felt the first flicker of doubt, then, just nudging at the outskirts of his mind. He tried to banish it. What he had let happen tonight, what he had sought out, was possibly the most selfish thing he had ever done. The most selfish thing he would ever do, now. To sleep with a man, to be his first, then leave him to deal with the consequences alone.
But he wouldnât be alone, would he? He would have his Wei Ying. He would be reunited with the man he was supposed to spend his life with, the mirror of his soul. What was Mo Xuanyu to a bond like that? A pebble thrown into the still waters of anotherâs life, barely skipping across the surface for a moment before sinking to the depths below.
He hoped he would be easy for Lan Wangji to forget, down there in the darkness. He hoped he would not be a stone sharp enough to needle him.
The thought struck him unawares, as he brought the knife to his wrist and made the first incision, easily enough; his vision began to swim, blurring red and white. The thought was less smooth, another jagged edge to cut himself open with.
I donât want to die. I want to stay with him.
What an irony: the reason he still clung to his pathetic life was the reason he needed to die.
He took a final, shuddering gasp of air.
âWei Wuxian, Yiling Laozu, I call upon your spirit ââ
The prologue for Pebble in the Deep begins with Ritual, and regret.
It begins after a number of story arcs have already passed, including the Incident at Mo Manor. The twist: Mo Xuanyu survived Mo Manor. After the prologue, Wei Wuxian has some catching up to do, as the preceding arcs are told to us through flashbacks from a number of perpectives. Until that perspective is Mo Xuanyu's.
Story arcs change as the tale weaves through canon events that lead to the Guanyin Temple (and bit beyond). Qin Su, for example, is spirited away after Jiang Wanyin is accused of being the Yiling Patriarch because he withdrew Suibian in the hidden chamber at the Fragrant Palace.
And then there is the scene between Jiang Wanyin and Hanguang-jun ⊠but I'll let you find out more when you read the story.
A pleasure to read, although it may take a few evenings.
Pebble in the Deep was written for the MDZS Big Bang 2020 and you can click on that link to find more tales to enjoy as well.
Serrated by InkSplatterM, MrMissMrsRandom
Explicit
AU - Canon Divergence
46 chapters
195k words
âBlood as medium. Hand as means.â
He dipped his fingers into the cuts on his torso and painted the outer round of symbols and characters. With a brush his writing was neater, and this ritual needed things to be as accurate as possible. At the same time, it needed to be drawn by hand, even if his fingers shook. Once finished, he tightened his belt into place.
âFlesh to thy spirit, soul to the dust.â
Taking up the nail file again, Mo Xuanyu cut twice on each of his arms. First for Mo Ziyuan, second for A-Tong, third for Lord Mo, and the final, deepest, cut for Lady Mo. Using the blood that flowed down his hands from these new cuts he wrote in the inner symbols. Maybe he was just seeing things, but there seemed to be a faint red glow along the lines of the array.
âAwaiting the descent of the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian!â
The array burst into red light and black smoke, blowing his hair every which way. The resentful energy attached to his soul was a pain far beyond anything that he had experienced previously. He tried to think only of calling the wickedest of spirits, the Yiling Patriarch, into his body to take it and enact his revenge, but his thoughts would go back to the same loop.
I donât want to die, I donât want to die, I donât want to die. Awaiting the descent of the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian. Awaiting the descent of the Yiling Patriarch, Wei Wuxian. I donât want to die. I donât want to die. I donât want to die.
âŠWei Wuxian, I donât want to dieâŠ
Mo Xuanyu woke with the familiar sensation of his cousin kicking him in the ribs.
Familiar? Iâve never been awakened in such a rude manner!
An unfamiliar voice ringed through his subconscious, knocking him out more than the blow. It is not a voice he can give name to: it is masculine, and deeper than his own, but there is a hint of levity in its tone that sounded like the voice was getting unfairly scolded for pulling some kind of harmless prank.
Serrated is a tale of dual souls. One can control the body, the other can be snarky in thoughts. And they can switch. It works.
The story runs along with canon for the most part, but, again, there are changes. Qin Su is rescued, the encounter with Xue Yang is more horrifying.
All ends, however, with a conference in Lotus Pier followed by escape to Guanyin Temple and resolution.
The focus here is on the relationships between Mo Xuanyu and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. There is a reason for the explicit rating, so be aware.
Interactions between Mo Xuanyu and Wei Wuxian can be particularly humerous. Lil Apple can tell which of them is currently in charge of their body. As can Lan Wangji.
GĂčshĂŹ is a series of really short works of fiction. The author writes "Truly short fiction is intended to provide the breath of a theme. Take from these what you need to enhance your own imagination."
My favorite tale is "It's that time. Again", in which the author takes a unique approach to stories of time-travel; followed by "éŽè珊 - Yin Tiger Tally", in which Jin Guangshan asks and is answered.
Most of the stories could certainly be fleshed out, but the seed, the theme is more than enough.
Divergence, Post-siege of Burial Mounds
7 chapters complete
28k words
âA spirit capture bag?â Xie Lian asks, letting go of Hua Chengâs hand and stepping closer. âThatâs good for stabilizing it, but it would be difficult to mend it through the bag.â
âYes,â Hua Cheng agrees, looking forlornly at Xie Lianâs hand. âItâs just a temporary measureâI was hoping it would help the soul get a bit more cohesive before I start messing around with it.â
Xie Lian nods his head, but doesnât say anything. There is something⊠almost buzzing, around him. He has felt it the second Hua Cheng opened the door, but itâs worse the closer he gets to the table. Itâs like the feeling one gets when you lose a word, and itâs just the tip of your tongue and you can think of any other word but the one you are looking forâirritating, and all-consuming. Dimly, he notices what Hua Cheng did, the resentment almost pouring out of the bag, barely contained by it, but itâs so secondary to this other feeling Xie Lian can almost dismiss it.
âGege, whatââ
âI thinkâŠâ Xie Lian says slowly, not taking his eyes off the bag. âI think I knew this person. Who this soul used to be.â
He can hear Hua Cheng suck in a breath. âGege, maybe itâs better if you donâtââ
But Xie Lian ignores him, and reaches out with one trembling hand to touch the bag. A second passes, and then another, and Xie Lian almost lets out a breath in relief, before he feels something in the bag reaching back.
âA-Ying?â
The parallels in MĂČxiÄng TĂłngxiĂč works make for interesting crossover ideas.
In let this soul be your whisper, the crossover is between post-canon Tian Guan Ci Fu and post-First siege MĂłdĂ o ZÇshÄ«. The broken soul of Wei Ying has appeared in Ghost City, and Hua Cheng shows the resentment-filled spirit capture bag to Xi Lian, who recognizes the soul fragment as belonging to a child he took care of in the area of Yiling prior to his third ascension.
As the two travel to places where Wei Ying has been, they meet several of Wei Ying's soul fragments.
This is a story of a God who has felt guilt since leaving Wei Ying with a cultivation family because of the pull of ascension, of his partner, the Ghost King, who loves him and lends Xie Lian his strength through the conversations with Wei Ying's soul fragments and the eventual confrontation that leads to the restoration of a soul.
At the end of the story, this tale of Tian Guan Ci Fu has more or less ended, but the story of MĂłdĂ o ZÇshÄ« continues.
Recommended for the brilliant vignettes of Wei Ying at various stages in his life, and the relationship between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.
Modern Wei Wuxian is reborn in ancient (canon) time
13 chapters (work in progress)
87k words
He expected to find himself at the Bridge of Forgetfulness, preparing to drink Meng Poâs soup. Instead, he found himself hovering over a small child who was dressed in tattered clothes, shivering in an alleyway filled with garbage.
There were no street lights, only the moon that shone above, looking oddly bright in the darkened, cloudless sky. The buildings around him looked like something out of the drawings from the ancient scrolls he had studied as part of his research.
Was this a death hallucination? Was his dying brain latching onto images from the last sets of things he had been thinking about?
In any other situation, Wei Wuxian might have laughed.
Heâd been so obsessed with his research that even his fellow graduate students had teased him that he had been living more in the stories from the ancient texts than in the real world. He supposed it shouldnât surprise him that his last thoughts would be of the time period that had so captured his imagination ever since he was a child.
It is real , a voice sounded in Wei Wuxian's mind.
Somehow he knew that it wasn't spoken in the night air around him, but that the words had appeared directly inside his head.
He felt himself pushed toward the tiny, shivering child at the same moment that he realized he did not have a physical body himself.
While the initial push had come from the owner of the Voice, the closer he came to the small, huddled figure, the more he noticed a strange pull drawing him in closer.
You have a chance to make a difference , the Voice said.
His being, his⊠soul? was getting closer and closer to the body of the child.
He tried to resist pulling himself back. He knew, somehow, instinctively that if his soul touched the boy's body, he would be pulled inside it. Would whatever soul was currently residing in the child be expelled?
As much as he had wanted to live, he didnât want to take the life of a child to do so.
âYou would have me take this child's life? Killing him, and taking over his body?â Wei Wuxian asked, desperately. He wasnât sure if he spoke the words aloud, or just⊠transmitted them the same strange way the Voice had communicated with him.
The boy will not survive the night, the Voice replied. His life is already ending, regardless of your choice.
âDo I have a choice?â Wei Wuxian asked, feeling the inexorable pull of the body of the child increasing the more he tried to resist.
There is always a choice , the Voice said.
At the start of (Re)making history to find you, Wei Wuxian is a 19 year modern cultivation prodigy whose life has ended in a tragic train derailment. He is introduced to a dying 5 year old child who is, well, him.
Wei Wuxian studied the history of cultivation, which included the terrifying reign of Wen Ruohan over the cultivation world, a world that descended into a dark age for a long time after. This is a story of how he survives as Wei Ying and, perhaps, makes a difference.
The first thirteen chapters detail survival in Yiling, and then travel East, towards Gusu. Wei Wuxian attempts to travel this far as a child because he only remembers two important cultivators relevant to the time, one named Hanguang-Jun (no real clue as to family name) who had opposed Wen Ruohan during the Cultivator wars. The other a rogue cultivator named Fu Guiying, whose journals were found beneath floorboards of a house the Lan clan had used as a prison, complete with sigils carved into the outer stones of the foundation of the same house. Sigils that leach qi and prevent the occupant from leaving. A person Wei Wuxian knows will die some time in the next Winter season. Time is of the essence.
On the way to rescue Fu Guiying, Wei Wuxian encounters a ghost bride, saves some people from a flood and travels east for most of the next year toward Gusu. There he finds the house, destroys some sigils and meets the occupant - a remarkable woman who happens to have two visiting children the next day ⊠planned by her to be their final visit.
Except Wei Wuxian (Wei Ying now) confesses everything and badly needs someone to look out for him.
I have enjoyed the story a lot over the current 13 chapters. Wei Ying is now 6 years old, with a Golden Core developed on the way to GusuLan. He may be a prodigy, but he still gets tired using the small scrap of the Golden Core he has. He has not yet become a Major Player (and may never be so) and that's all right.
As of the last chapter, Lan Zhan has figured a few things out, Wei Ying has made several trips to Caiyi and an extremely young doctor halfway across China has been asked about poisons and their cures. All while the Lan clan knows nothing about any of this.
Still no sign of Hanguang-Jun. Nobody seems to have heard the title. Yet.
In the novels, Mo Xuanyu serves as a deus ex machina, an easily discarded soul, an afterthought with enough paragraphs of background to make his body sacrifice believable. And yet âŠ
There is a lot of fan fiction written about "and yet âŠ".
There is the tortured soul of Mo Xuanyu tring to make up for mistakes in the Ritual in Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (reviewed here).
There is the accomplished Jin Xuanyu, eldest son of Jin Guangyao and Mo Fan, and "grandson" of Wei Wuxian ( And Time is But a Paper Moon) as told in The Lessons We Have Learned and Don't Turn Your Heart by sami (reviewed here and here and here).
There is the (unintentional) near Immortal/time traveler Mo Xuan Yu as written in Pocketful of Soul by Jenrose (reviewed here).
And there are plenty of short stories, each with a unique flavor and point of view. Here are a few that I've been reading this year. Enjoy.
here's how mo xuanyu can still win by MellonLord
1 chapter
2k words
"Well that was worse than I thought. Now, where the hell is my body?"
The ghost isn't entirely humanoid, yet it manages to cup a hand over its eyes and spin on its heels to peer about the room. Eventually, it spots a pale, red-stained face upside-down near one wall, the majority of the body buried in the wreckage of what might have once been a desk.
"Oh," says the ghost, "there it is."
It's ten seconds after Mo XuanYu was supposed to die. Instead, he blinks blearily up at the ghost strolling towards him. 'Shit,' he thinks, 'I'm in trouble now.'
In which Mo Xuanyu does not get to complete the Ritual.
falling like feathers and cherry blossoms by silversshadow
[Restricted to logged in archive users. Getting an account requires an invitation, which you can ask for at https://archiveofourown.org]
1 chapter
11k words
The first thing Mo XuanYu notices when he sees his mother, is that she looks tired; there are circles under her eyes and she looks pale.
The second thing, is that there is a little boy clinging to his mothersâ skirt.
As the Jin disciples do their best to explain Mo XuanYus exile without outright repeating Jin GuangYaos lies, Mo XuanYu finds himself looking over the child.
He looks to be around five or so, small, underfed, and with a bruise over one eye. Distantly, he remembers that when he was first brought to the Golden Koi Tower, Jin GuangShan had been among the party that had picked him up; and that the man had asked to speak to his mother after dinnerâŠ
Oh.
Oh no.
Peeking out from behind his- their mother, the boy gives Mo XuanYu a small cheeky grin.
Itâs adorable.
Returning in disgrace from Koi Tower, Mo Xuanyu finds he has a little brother named Mo Ying. Things are ⊠complicated after that. Towards the end, events at Mo Manor and Dafan Mountain play out. Sort of.
Xue Yang is an, um, influence on Mo Ying's vocabulary. It's pretty satisfying.
Mo Xuanyu Saves the World by nerdzeword
16 chapters
22k words
It was a beautiful spring day, and Mo Xuanyu was running for his life. He was older than his cousin; he shouldnât have to run away from him. If anything, he should be the one to bully the boy, but it was an accepted fact in their family that a-Yuan could do no wrong in the eyes of Xuanyuâs aunt, and any retaliation he made against his younger cousin would be returned upon him tenfold. Xuanyu still hadnât recovered from last weekâs round of bruises, so he continued to run.
There was a little clearing in the woods by the manor that he liked to go to to escape his family â none of them liked the woods, they were afraid of ghosts. Mo Xuanyu was far more afraid of people than he was of ghosts. It was in this clearing that he had carved his mother a memorial tablet in shaky lettering on a rock, since his Aunt refused to make a proper one for the ancestral hall. His mother deserved to be remembered. Even if it was just by Mo Xuanyu.
In which a ten-year-old Mo Xuanyu is taken to Carp Tower. He leaves at sixteen. To join the Jiang. Stuff happens.
Wei Wuxian is still missing for 13 years.
The story is written in vignettes across 13 years, several interludes and a +1 year as a satisfying epilogue.
After by EHyde
1 chapter
382 words
In which Mo Xuanyu's Ritual succeeds, and he meets the Discworld's Death.
While I enjoy shorter stories, there are also longer stories, mostly told in a single chapter of no more than 20,000 words. Here are three examples I've discovered over the past month or so.
What makes them interesting is the variety of the stories, told both in-canon and out. One is what I would consider a mood piece, another is an AU which begins with a decidedly upset Lan Wangji, and the third is a modern AU told from the perspective of an adopted son.
Enjoy.
The Once and Future Yiling Patriarch by DarkPhantom (PhantomFlutist)
16k words
1 chapter
[Restricted to logged in archive users. Getting an account requires an invitation, which you can ask for at https://archiveofourown.org]
"It's weird," Jiang Cheng says this time, once they're halfway through dinner and Wei Ying has already forgotten that he had to pull Jiang Cheng away from his work earlier.
"What is, A-Cheng?" A-Jie asks, because she at least pretends to be interested in Jiang Cheng's stuff, unlike Wei Ying.
"There was a guy, like a thousand years ago," Jiang Cheng says, nodding at Wei Ying, "with the same name as you. They called him the Yiling Patriarch. Half the world was terrified of him and the other half wanted him dead."
Wei Ying's eyebrows go up, and he turns slightly more of his attention to Jiang Cheng. "And you're telling me this becauseâŠ."
âItâs just weird,â Jiang Cheng repeats. âMost of the reports of him contradict each other. Hell, most of them contradict themselves. The only thing they all seem to be able to agree on is that he died horribly.â
âCoool,â Wei Ying says, long and drawn-out while he tries to figure out what the fuck is even Jiang Chengâs point. âThatâs not fucking creepy and unsettling at all.â
âNevermind,â Jiang Cheng snaps. He stabs his chopsticks into his rice for another bite and they nearly snap. âIf youâre just going to make fun of me, then just forget it.â
Wei Ying sets his spoon down harder than he means to. âWell itâs not like youâre making any sense! Why are you even telling me this?â
âA-Ying, A-Cheng, please,â A-Jie tries to interject, raising her hands in a placating gesture.
But theyâre both too agitated now to listen to her, and Jiang Cheng steamrolls right over whatever she might have said next by shouting, yet again, âItâs weird!â He shakes his head and his tone drops into something softly and strangely serious. âSome of the reports say he died violently, hunted by his own clan. But then there are others that must be from close to a hundred years later that paint a completely different picture.â
Wei Ying is too warm. A-Jie must have turned the heat up again. She always runs so much colder than the two of them.
A modern story in which Wei Ying begins to experience sensory memories and dreams that eventually lead him to back to Home.
There is a second story that complements this one, told from another perspective, that is well worth the read.
Standing Engagement by x_los
18k words
1 chapter
The man above him was silent for a long moment. Then â âNo harm,â he repeated.
On the ground Ran Sui shook, his elbows knocking against the stone. He looked up at his captor, seeing in those repeated words some cause for hope.
âBecause of my great respect for mercy,â Hanguang-Jun said, âI will be even more merciful to you than you were to my own betrothed.â
With a sick, sinking feeling, Ran Sui looked up and up, at last meeting the coldest, blackest eyes heâd ever seen.
âIs that not generous?â Hanguang-Jun asked, his voice soft, still and terrible.
Jiang Cheng is present when these words are spoken at the Wen indoctrination center, and things change throughout the Sunshot Campaign. The story ends during the banquet after the Wen defeat.
Things are looking much better at this point than in canon. How they get there is the focus of this story.
You Bring the Colour by fuddy_duddy (rainier_day)
11k words
1 chapter
But then the man removes the protective sheeting and reveals the rest of the canvas. Although most of the painting has been damaged by fire, thereâs a section in the middle that seems to have been cleaned at one point.
In that section alone, there is a spray of colours of every different medium but still recognizably a predominantly landscape piece. He can see the bold purples and pinks of a lotus lake in bloom done in oil paint transition into cloudy mountain peaks done in the softer traditional watercolours heâs so intimate with. There are specks of gold and black that seem to be floating through on the wind across the painting. The sight of it fills his mind with music he canât quite place and a feeling of nostalgia for something he can no longer remember.
In which Lan Sizhui accepts a fire damaged painting for possible restoration and then works with friends to solve a mystery about the man who brought it in.
âThereâs more,â Wei Wuxian said. âThere has to be more, you would be begging for your head with the Nie if that was the only thing that drove you to my door. Who died?â
Heâd meant it as a joke, a rather poor one but he had needed to draw attention away from the crushed dragon eggs in the room. Dumbledoreâs face darkened and Wei Wuxianâs smile fell from his face.
âHeadmaster, who died?â Wei Wuxian asked.
âThere were two Hogwarts Champions, the person who put Harryâs name in the Goblet just inserted him as the member of a fourth, unnamed school, it was the only way he could ensure that his name came out of the Goblet,â Dumbledore explained. âCedric Diggory was the one the Goblet chose for Hogwarts Champion, he and Harry both got to the cup at the end of the final task and they decided to take it at the same time.â
âAnd something went wrong,â Wei Wuxian said.
âThe cup was a portkey,â Dumbledore said.
Lan Zhan made a confused little noise and Wei Wuxian was abruptly reminded that his husband had a somewhat limited idea of western magic. Wei Wuxian was the one that had been chosen to go to the ICW meetings and Lan Zhan was an important enough figure that he rarely, if ever left the Sects, let alone China proper.
âItâs like a transportation talisman,â Wei Wuxian explained. âWhere did it take them?â
âA better question would be who did the cup take them to,â Dumbledore sighed, shoulders sagging to make him look far older. âThe Dark Lord Voldemort used Harry in a ritual to resurrect himself, he didnât need Cedric so he⊠got rid of the excess.â
Wei Wuxian hissed in sympathy but the Headmaster wasnât done yet, there was a set to his jaw that made that perfectly obvious.
âAnd about an hour after the other students had left the school for the summer his corpse sat up and started terrorizing the hospital wing.â Dumbledore poured himself another cup of tea, hands shaking.
âYou have a fierce corpse on your hands? How?â Wei Wuxian asked.
âThat is what I have come to ask your help with.â
As we begin Unheard Voices, Open Ears, Cedric Diggory's spirit has lingered long enough to hear Minister Fudge deny reality. Voldemort had killed Cedric and used Harry Potter in a ritual to bring himself back. The Ministry of Magic was bent on sweeping the entire thing under the rug. Cedric was furious. Enough so that he tried to reenter his dead body and, well, created a fierce corpse.
Dumbledore visits Cloud Recesses to ask Wei Wuxian for help. What ensues is an unpleasant time involving dementors, Harry's Aunt and an inquiry of the ICW about what really went down during the Triwizard Tournament ... and an extremely unpleasant reaction from the Yiling Laozu when he discovers that Harry had a horcrux attached to him since the day Voldemort died.
Harry is invited to Gusu, mostly for protection, but more importantly to perform a Cleansing to remove said horcrux.
As the story unfolds, we learn about the Sunshot campaign, about the Cultivation Sects in their pocket dimensions in China, about the Yiling Laozu and the Burial Mounds.
Most importantly, Harry Potter no longer has to bear the brunt of a secret war with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He has adults looking out for him now.
Crossover with Word of Honor
Fix-It AU
16 Chapters (complete)
59k words
Wen Kexing.
I do not remember your father; I was too young. But my grandmother has verified that Wen Ruyu was indeed related to us, and that he was trustworthy.
I am indeed a healer, and while I specialize in golden cores, that has led me to having an innate understanding of meridians and how to heal them.
There will be conditions, and we will need insurance. But I will come to heal your friend.
My own friend was able to figure out how to work your metal bird; he even, in fact, created a way to track it. I and my people are already preparing to follow it. Even if you are deceiving us, being stranded in the martial world would perhaps be better than the conditions we face at present.
If you are deceiving us, I will not rest until you and everyone you love is dead.
Wen Qing.
We begin whatever it takes during the Four Season Manor arc in Word of Honor. Wen Kexing has found out that his zhiji, Zhou Zishu, is dying. While looking for a healer, memories of his early life rush in, he remembers tales his father told him of traveling to the cultivation sects to find family. Apparently, there was a branch family of healers and a supposed prodigy.
So Wen Kexing sends out mechanical messenger birds to track down an older Wen Qing. One bird arrives in the Burial Mounds, and things change for everyone.
The story unfolds alongside familiar beats from Word of Honor with decidedly different outcomes, including a conversation where Wei Wuxian declares a plan by Wen Kexing as "stupid" and backs it up. Someone is still mourned during the Bailu Cliff incident. Temporarily.
No nails were removed as a result.
As the storyline for Word of Honor nears an end, we are brought back to the Cultivation world and a very disappointing Seige of the Burial Mounds, followed by reflections by Lan Xichen and future contemplation by Nie Huaisang. The end chapter pleasantly wraps things up.
Post-canon
1 chapter, complete
28k words
[Restricted to logged in archive users. Getting an account requires an invitation, which you can ask for at https://archiveofourown.org]
Wei Wuxian shouldn't have to be alone.
It was with a cold, still voice that Sizhui voiced these thoughts. He couldnât bear to look at anyone, couldnât bear to think too hard about it, because that would break this fragile equilibrium.
His fathers would be leaving. His father was being driven out.
Sizhui didnât want to be left again.
âSo we have to change the rule!â Jingyi declared. âNot force Wei-qianbei out! Heâs your father, Sizhui, donât you want him here?â
The normally delicate features of Sizhuiâs face flushed an angry red. The still water at the bottom of that cold lake began to stir. How could Jingyi even suggest otherwise, howâ âOf course I do. But I want him happy too, Iââ
âGreat! So itâs agreed? We have to get rid of that rule.â
Sizhui stared at Jingyi, because how could he be so flippant when they were discussing something so serious, so potentially devastating?
Except Jingyiâs expression was nothing but serious. His mouth was pinched and brows were drawn; he looked more like he was preparing for a nighthunt than discussing dry sect rules. But Lan Sect precepts were quite literally set in stone, how did Jingyi expect to change one, just like that?
âHow?â demanded a junior.
âRight, how?â
âWeâll help!â
âWei-qianbei and Hanguang-Jun have to stay! Itâs their home!â
And just like that, Sizhui felt his head break water and his lungs seem to fill with the first real breath since Jingyi had delivered his news. Said like that, it was really so simple, wasnât it? The Cloud Recesses was Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxianâs home. So it was only correct that it was welcoming to them. It was Sizhuiâs home too, and so it was only correct that both of his fathers were here with him. They were not changing the impossible, but simply correcting an error. And he wasnât the only one that understood this.
Dropping down suddenly, Jingyi knocked aside the papers that had previously been spread out on the table for poetry analysis. He pulled over a fresh sheet and a brush.
âRight. First things first. We need a plan.â
This story begins post-canon. The Yiling Laozu has been exonerated, but people still remember the Sunshot Campaign and after.
As we begin Mark My Place, a new Lan rule had been etched into stone: "Interacting with Wei Wuxian is forbidden". As Lan Wangji threatens to leave Gusu Lan entirely over the new rule, Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui begin to work on a plan with the aid of the Lan juniors.
The beginning of that plan involves getting Wei Wuxian to help guide the juniors in their morning drills. Despite punishments for all involved, including instructors, this becomes a daily occurrence that lasts until Wei Wuxian is assigned official training times and a certain rule is quietly removed.
Similar events occur among the Nie, Jiang and Jin.
The story culminates at the Spring Performances, a chance for sects to demonstrate what they've learned. This year held by the Yao sect, who hold a decidedly "anti-Yiling Laozu" perspective.
I really enjoyed reading the various interactions between Wei Wuxian and his students. The climax of the story is refreshing, and the pre-Performances clash between juniors of the four major sects was pretty funny.
âThe dead are louder than ever.â The voice came from right beside him. Startled, he nearly cried out, but stilled when he saw the speakerâone of the Wen elders. The oldest among them, even older than Popo. He sat silently at his side, staring ahead, his frail frame cloaked in tattered rags. His white hair was so thin that the scalp gleamed beneath it. Clouded eyes remained unfocused, his back hunched, both hands wrapped around a worn wooden staff.
âVery loud,â the old man said again, his voice steady, âalmost desperate.â Wei Wuxian leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper.
âYou can hear them too?â The old man nodded slowly.
âI can. I always could. But not like this⊠not this clear.â
âWhat are they saying?â Wei Wuxian asked, studying the old man closely. He had seen him beforeâoften, in factâbut never heard him speak or interact with others, just sat alone watching everything in a detached manner. Heâd even assumed the elder was mute. And yet now, something urged him to listen, to pay attention.
âThat we will all die soon,â the old man replied, voice calm. Well, that was nothing new. They always told him that. Wei Wuxian waited, expecting more, but the old man said nothing else.
âWhat else?â he pressed, leaning in slightly. The elderâs cloudy eyes shifted, sharpening for a moment as they met his.
âThat you should listen to them,â he said. âHear what they have to say.â Not helpful, he thought bitterly. Listening to the voices had only ever brought him misery. He sighed deeply, gaze dropping to the ground as if the dirt might offer some hidden answer.
âTheyâre too loud,â he murmured.
âThen listen to those that whisper,â the old man replied. Wei Wuxian glanced at him, startled by the clarity in his tone.
âSometimes,â the elder added, âtruth lies in murmurs, not screams.â
As we begin Whispers of the Dead, Wei Wuxian is contemplating an invitation letter sent by Lan Zhan. The shrieking of the dead was ever present, but the whispers were new. The question of the oldest Wen elder still in mind, he ponders the use of empathy and then wonders if it could be reshaped to the point where the resentment was quieted, where the voices could be listened to individually. Inspiration and realization strike.
This is the beginning of a new path.
After an intense dream where one of the dead told him not to go to Koi Tower, he wrote a letter declining to Lan Zhan and continued pursuing his latest studies. While mailing the letter in Yiling he noticed a thinning of resentment in the town. A week later, sunlight falls on the Burial Mounds for the first time since they arrived.
Apparently, the experiments in strengthening the outer wards, drawing spirits away from the small settlement, along with arrays he designed to bring out the good ghost memories worked better than anticipated. Way, way better.
There is a visit by the Twin Jades to accompany Wei Wuxian to the 100-day celebration in Koi Tower. It is politely declined again. The visit does allow Wen Qing to deliver a dressing down to Lan Xichen. It is well that Lan Xichen listens and promises an investigation.
And that leads to the rest of the story.
There are differing points of view. There are miracles. There is intrigue. Jin Guangshan is Jin Guangshan. Meng Yao is Meng Yao. And Jiang Yanli overhears too much.
Oh, and Lan Qiren advises Wei Wuxian to officially take the reins of the Yiling Wei Sect. Of course, there is a Cultivation Conference where things go to heck in a handbasket. And the aftermath.
The epilogue begins with confrontation shortly after the Conference and ends with a wedding (not those two. They've been married for 6 years).
A number of authors have tried their hand at blending the worlds of MĂłdĂ o ZÇshÄ«/The Untamed and Harry Potter. Some of these stories noted have ongoing updates. Some are complete, either short or multi-chapter stories. Some are orphans of years past. Here are a few that I found interesting.
The Flute and the Wand by AJayLin9
Post-Canon
2 chapters (WIP)
10k words
The locals in the wizarding village below had whispered of it over rice wine: a shrine no one dared approach, sealed for generations, said to contain a âdemonic cultivatorâ who had brought ruin to great clans. Most spoke the words with fear, but some with reverence. Lily had been unable to let the mystery go.
At last, the bamboo parted. Before them stood a stone dais half-swallowed by moss and vines, its surface etched with fading runes that burned faintly in the dark. The seal was cracked in places, and yet the wards pulsed stubbornly, like the heartbeat of something living within.
Lily shivered. âJamesâŠthis isnât just old magic. This is binding work. Someone went to great pains to keep whateverâs in there shut away.â
James ran his hand through his already-messy hair. âOr someone went to great pains to keep him hidden. Donât you feel it? Whoever it isâŠheâs alive in there. Merlin, Lils, how longâs it been? Decades? Centuries?â
Before Lily could answer, a sound reached themâfaint and mournful, like the whisper of a flute on the wind. It wound around their hearts, stirring something deep and aching.
China. 1978. James and Lily Potter encounter Wei Wuxian. Three years later they send two letters through Gringotts, naming him as guardian for their young child, Harry, in the event of disaster. Voldemort is on the rise, and they are hidden away in Godric's Hollow.
The missives are received four years later, and the guardianship of Harry Potter begins
.
Error of the universe by Chow_babochka
Transmigration
2 chapters (complete)
3k words
In which a drunk Severus Snape desires happiness, and summons a bright five-year-old named Wei Ying.
Note that the author has used Google Translate, as they do not speak English. Make allowances, as the story is very amusing.
Our Son by stoicmonalisa (orphan_account)
Modern day
4 chapters (incomplete)
7k words
On a dark moonless Halloween night, the two immortals tracked a huge spike in resentment, riding in tandem on the sword, whose light was disguised by clouds. They flew with all speed but still they were too late. They choked on the tangible tenticles of billowing resentment seeping from the destroyed second story bedroom. At the epicenter came the cries of a now orphaned child. They shared a glace between them before manifesting their instruments and settling the resentment. Soon the music, which had soothed the babe, now made him grow agitated and his already bloody forehead leaked once more. They stopped abruptly, concerned.
In which Harry is rescued by our Immortals and a number of unfortunates find themselves in Cloud Recesses.
Boundless by sifshadowheart
Series
3 works
45K
Beyond Bounds
The series starts with an extremely ticked off Harry Potter shortly after the battle in the Department of Mysteries that led to Sirius Black's death.
Shifting Boundaries
In which Harry Potter traverses the Veil in search of his godfather. A tracking ritual indicated Yiling in China ⊠and a meeting in the Burial Mounds leads him to a younger five-year-old "brother" named Wei Ying.
Breakdown
The start of a story that involves the Lord of Wei sect attending Cloud Recesses to become educated in the ways of the Jianghu. Two chapters that make up this incomplete story.
Flag Flying High by Araceil
24 chapters - discontinued
132k words
In which a dead Wei Wuxian finds himself dragged back to life as Mo Xuanyu through ritual. A friend, A-Hari, arrives. Things take a turn with Harry Potter and the Juniors after the events of Dafan Mountain play out. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji and canon are background until the two converge in Yi City.
This was a wonderful story that was discontinued by the author after what they call "the current goings on with JK Umbridge". Much respect for the author. The story to that point was a wonder to read.
I enjoy reading stories of the Yiling Wei Sect, and when I found this series with three short stories, I knew I had to create a short review.
So, here are tales of the Burial Mounds and how things might have gone after Wei Wuxian gives away his goldern core. All stories are accessible from the series link.
There are currently 253 works associated with the tag: "Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect". A number of these are Works in Progress, a number of them are short stories, and a few of them are multi-chapters epics.
For now, I'm recommending And the dead live on because the approach intrigued me, they're short enough to read in one go, and the writing is superb. Enjoy.
Do you hear the song of the mountain?
Do you want revenge Wei Wuxian?
Centuries after, another boy, so similar in brilliance, was dropped kicking and screaming in a mass grave.
Do you want revenge Wei Wuxian?
This human never struggled against them. He seemed to already know it would be useless. At first, he seemed resigned and he seemed like he was strangely satisfied, like he had chosen this fate. But then, he heard them and he listened and in turn when he sang to them, they listened too.
This tale is of the Burial Mounds and their first encounter with Wei Wuxian.
The sins of the father (make the children bleed)
In which Wen Qing goes to Yiling to find Wei Wuxian, and does.
My house will never shake (it's built out of bones)
In which the changes in the Burial Mounds have become noticeable and the attention of the Sects is drawn. The unexpected encounter with the Yiling Wei Sect leader ends on a positive note with mention of guests.
I've been reading a lot more short stories lately; stories with only a few chapters and 10k words or less. Here are a few to read over the remaining nights of summer. Note that some of these tales are darker, so be sure to check tags.
Break my heart myself by Sesugi
Mature
7 chapters
7k words
Wei Wuxian walks away from Lan Zhan, leading Little Apple. He returns after being found near death. Things are not all right for a while thereafter.
There are triggers listed in the Additional Tags. Pay attention. The story does end on a hopeful note, but it takes a bit to get there.
from the middle, this time with a plan by ShippersList
1 chapter
8k words
Wen Xu awakens, not to the afterlife, but to a time years before his death at the hands of Nie Mingjue. He decides to live this time around.
For those of us who believe that time-travel fix-it stories do not have to hover around Wangxian to be satisfying.
He Lian Xin: Lan-er-furen by Sa_To_Ri_SadlyWithoutExclamationMarks
7 chapters
5k words
Wei Wuxian dies during the siege. And his spirit sticks around long enough to bring A-Yuan to Gusu with a letter from He Lianxin, Lan Zhan's "wife".
People wonder but eventually accept.
Confirmation appears in a follow-up Epilogue.
And We Shall Not Go Gently by brysbeddixt
1 chapter
3k words
This is a brief snippet into a Zhancheng AU, beginning with a demand from a "diplomatic party" of Jin and Lan that gets stopped in its tracks. The rest takes place in the Jiang receiving hall. Pre-Zhancheng pairing, with Wei Wuxian and the Wen in Lotus Pier.
There is another work listed under the series title Of Our Own . I really enjoyed this relatively unique pair.
of night and light, and the half-light by stiltonbasket
1 chapter
2k words
A poignant discussion about mortality as seen through Lan Sizhui's eyes when he notes a white hair on his Father who has turned fifty-two.
This is part of Author stiltonbasket's Two Moons and a Fortnight series. . [Note that the series is restricted to registered users of AO3. An invitation link is provided on the home page of AO3]
Curse The GusuLan Elders! by JaenysBloodcourt
2 chapters
8k words
While Lan Zhan and Sizhui go on a night hut, Gusu Lan elders seize Wei Wuxian and hold a staged trial, followed by the use of the discipline whip. Rescued by Lan Xichen, he knows he's not going to live long enough to see Lan Zhan's return. He convinces Lan Xichen to work on a ritual that does not lead to his recovery but does send himself back in time. Things change, and two years after, Lan Zhan returns to the Burial Mounds.
Followed by a story of the return from the night hunt and what follows after. The Ones Left Behind is the logical aftermath of the Elders foolishness.
Time travel fix-it
5 chapters (complete)
28k words
[Must have an account with Archive of Our Own in order to read. An invitation is readily provided on the website.]
Wangji steps right up to the bed to take Wei Wuxianâs hand like heâs handling a rare book. Jiang Yanli leans forward to whisper in his ear; Wangji nods and says, âWei Ying need not worry. I am here now.â
The broad contentment suffused with love that blooms across Wei Wuxianâs young face is entirely too big an expression for itâhis very countenance softens, tension easing out of his shoulders.
âSo you are, now,â he says, smiling and Lan Qiren watches in mute awe. Heâs never seen any delirium quite like this; the thing in his mindâs eye begins to take on a little more definition. âI had a very strange dream today, you know. I dreamed that Shijie and Yu-furen and Jiang-shushu were all alive.â
The Jiang siblings flinch and Jiang Fengmian crosses the room to put his arms around his children, exhaustion written across every cun of his expression. This is certainly only a small sample of what theyâve been dealing with for three days now.
Wangji does not flinch. Instead, he considers this. âWhy was it strange?â
Cangse Sanrenâs son smiles at Lan Qirenâs nephew, a cheery expression contrasting his rumpled robes and his pallid face. Qi pulses through the room, warm and pillowy. âI donât actually remember it happening. Iâve never fallen ill enough to be tended by Shijie before the guest lectures.â
Autumn River begins with Lan Qiren and his two nephews travelling to a decidedly off-kilter Lotus Pier at the request of Jiang Fengmian. The three are brought to the room of a delirious Wei Wuxian, who has been calling for them for three days. He calls Lan Qiren "Shufu" with relief when he hears his voice. A voice that he shouldn't know, as Lan Qiren knows that this is the first time they've met.
What follows are conversations, demonstrations of power, revelations, a settling of Wei Wuxian's relationships at Lotus Pier and the beginnings of a betrothal. The world is not yet set to rights, but Wei Wuxian is not going to be alone in working to that end.
This well told story uses Lan Qiren's point-of-view, which is refreshing.
Modern science fiction AU
1 chapter (complete)
4k words
Lan Wangji finishes typing his last report and leans away from the keyboard. Then he picks up his notebook, filled with so many of his scattered thoughts, his handwriting as neat as it had always been. Uncle had liked it that way, and so he had liked it, too. He wonders if he does like it, neatness, or if itâs just the only thing heâs ever learned to be. He shakes his head, takes his pen, and leans its fine tip against the paper. A second of hesitation later, he pulls it back, and stares at the blue dot on the paper, where the ink just started to tell his story.
Where to begin? What to say? To summarize the beginning and the end, and how it could not lead anywhere but here?
Dear brother, he begins. Do you remember that day on the beach?
Waltz for the Moon is as much a mood as it is a short story about a deep ocean research station and its lone inhabitant.
We learn back story and more about Lan Wangji's life, of his discovery in the dark waters of the ocean and the changes for both him and his brother.
This is a small story with a poignant, but sweet, ending. Well worth the time to read and enjoy.
