eastbound | audio | un: yiling patriarch

Which is their decision to make, one way or another. This isn't our land, or our home, to decide for them.

( Just that they keep having an accidental bias through actions taken by a few. He sighs inwardly; not everything here sits right with him, but solutions aren't one hit wonders. They take time and changing political climates, people changing minds: more than what any of them can offer.

He watches his shishu with the plants, wondering for a moment... at also how his martial uncle is younger than he is. Always would be, if things didn't change. )

Do you... question your sword any more than you used to?

[Xingchen understands this sentiment, agrees with it to an extent. Don't get involved unless asked or necessary. But at the same time, he wants to ask if Wei Wuxian, while here, would simply walk past a man dying on the side of the road. Xingchen couldn't. He didn't. But he feels that bringing this up would only keep an argument going and not a discussion. Wei Wuxian seems to feel the way he does and Xingchen won't be able to change that.]

...I know. We're just passing through.

[He moves to work on the next plant, but his hands hover while Wei Wuxian asks that question. He has a way with poking at Xingchen's doubts, doesn't he? But after a moment, he finally presses his hands onto the soil once more and shakes his head.]

No. If anyone is to be questioned, it is me, not Shuanghua. It has its purpose and I am responsible for interpreting that purpose.

( He would not walk past a dying man. But it's not the same question: scale matters, to a man who was ostracised by the righteous world for saving enslaved war prisoners, from a place that took to murdering them for fun because no one cared to stop them from harming innocents. Had he left them to then die in Yiling Burial Grounds because he had to move forward, couldn't carry them all along—he sees that as the cost of interference, the cost of assuming one act can absolve them of the duty to see it through.

He would not walk past a dying man, but he would also not take up that dying man's war. Not here.

He hesitates, holding his potatoes and watching his shishu. His eyes close, briefly, and he counters, respectfully: )

Swords are forged for intents and purposes, but they were never fated to detect nuanced truths. You gave what you did, for the reasons you did. Just... consider, in the future, that not everything which cannot speak is speechless by choice. Listen harder. Shuanghua strikes fast—stay it for longer. He who strikes first does not always win.

[His own hands still haven't moved, resting on the soil and providing no nutrients for the plants around him. It's strange, listening to Wei Wuxian. The man so near is nothing like what he's been portrayed as, or at least he's an extremely good actor and can hide his purported lust for blood or virgins or children. Yes, rumors always spread out of control and pick up little details here and there, but there is always some speck of truth to them, right? Or else they'd never gather any momentum at all.

But Wei Wuxian is... Xingchen wouldn't necessarily go so far as to call him kind; he simply doesn't know him well enough to have seen that side of him, should it exist. But these last words settle around him and make him think. They have a weight to them, whether borne from experience or not.

There's wisdom there, for sure. The Yiling Patriarch was intelligent, of course, and cunning, should the tamest gossip be believed. And yet Xingchen has never heard anyone lump in the word wise with his cursed name. But as he stands here, he finds that he must not fall into the same trap as the rest of the cultivation world. Wei Wuxian undoubtedly committed unspeakable acts and there is surely blood on his hands, but those same hands work now to tend to simple potatoes, to feed the rest of their ragtag group.

Of course, he's just a man, the same as Xingchen himself. Of course, he's also multi-faceted. Xingchen is a little embarrassed to have never really thought about this until now.

But something else tugs at him. This isn't the first time they've spoken of Shuanghua.
He can't figure out why.]

Wei Wuxian. Why do you show concern for me?

( He pauses yet again... smiles for his own sake, and for what it does to his voice. )

You're still my mother's shidi, aren't you? I... can understand not wanting to think on those ties, but distant or not, martial family still matters. ( To him, lingers that thought. The way he'd spared Yunmeng Jiang at the battle Jiang Cheng had as willingly jumped into as the rest. The day Wei Wuxian had decided to die, and take the stygian tiger seal with him, away from this greedy, farcical righteous world. ) I'd only met you once before the way, but we'd all known of your achievements, along with Song Lan's. What you did for him... was inspiring, though not by intention. Thank you for that, years later.

( An exchange of eyes; an exchange of golden cores. It'd been the framing of it that had inspired him with how to approach Jiang Cheng's unsolicited assisting; the one Jiang Cheng still had no idea had occurred, apparently, given the means of their present friction in relationship here.

Time discrepancies. Wen Qing, Xiao Xingchen, alive. Jiang Cheng, knowing too little. Only Lan Zhan and Lan Sizhui seeming to remember what he does. )

[The martial ties make sense; Xingchen has been wondering when that would come up again, even though there's no other knowledge he can offer Wei Wuxian. But even that doesn't seem to be enough to care so much, especially since they've never -

I'd only met you once before

- ...met.

That's not right. Xingchen left the mountain not long after Wei Wuxian died -

Song Lan

Hearing the name punches the air right out of him. Any impossibilities are left forgotten for now because he hadn't been ready for anyone to speak his friend's name, and so casually, so easily.

His hands grip at the soil, fingertips digging in. He can feel dirt lodging itself under his nails.

Somehow, he keeps hearing. Acknowledgment of something Wei Wuxian shouldn't know. No one should know except one other person, a friend whom he told in confidence. It isn't that Xingchen regrets giving his eyes to Song Lan - quite the opposite - but the world doesn't need to know of his failure, how he never expected that doing the right thing would hurt those he cares for most. How Wei Wuxian found out, he doesn't know. Wei Wuxian shouldn't have been able to find out at all. He's dead. He should be dead...

Taking a shaking breath, he decides to focus on the one thing here that doesn't prick at him, though he can't just let the rest of it go, either. Put some distance between himself and the memory of Song Lan and from now on, we won't need to meet again and collect himself.]

I...was your mother's shidi, if only in name. I did not know her. I cannot tell you anything about her.

( He pauses, brow furrowed. )

I know.

( He'd asked before, but: they were of an age. It made it impossible for Xiao Xingchen to tell him anything of his mother, he who had not been born before she was descended from the mountain. )

There's only one living person who can, and he has no kind word to say.

[Xingchen is still trying to get his thoughts together, but that last statement bothers him. It's true he knows nothing about Cangse Sanren except that she married a servant, gave birth to Wei Wuxian, and then died an early death, but compared to her predecessor or her own son, Xingchen hadn't heard of her doing anything reprehensible. Why would anyone speak ill of someone like her?

Except, of course, people are complicated. Maybe she did have a darker side or made decisions that never reached his own ears. All the same, despite what Wei Wuxian may have become, Xignchen can't deny him the wish to know about his own mother.

He finally turns around, abandoning the plants for now, and faces where he thinks Wei Wuxian is while wiping the dirt from his hands.]

I'm sorry. I wish I could offer you even an insignificant anecdote.

( With Xiao Xingchen facing him, he would gesture, even when he knows he can't see; but he's busy with hands full of potatoes, and this is a subject he can't even say much about. Long, long years ago, his hopes on hearing stories of his parents wore thinner than his clothes eventually did in Yiling.

So he laughs, light and low. )

Ah, no, don't worry, don't worry. While Old Master Lan might not want to say a kind word about my mother, he's why I know neither one of us could stand his beard. Anyway, were you hungry? I'd better get these washed and roasted before someone accuses me of only remembering to cook when I have an interest in what's being made.

( This is absolutely correct, but also, his favourites are spices, and there's little of that around here right now. )

[There is...some context there that Xingchen simply doesn't have, or some joke he can't quite understand. He's not even entirely sure who Old Master Lan is, though if his memory serves him right, he thinks he has an idea. Either way, it's not important. If Wei Wuxian isn't relying on him to bridge some gap between the generations - though it seems he's not relying on anyone to do so at this point - then Xingchen can let it go. But he's still a little shaken up from just a few moments earlier, though it's tempting to let the food serve as a distraction.]

I am, but...a moment still? I'm confused about something and don't want to spoil a meal because of it.

[Multiple somethings, but those are semantics.]

You sound so sure when you say we've met before, but that can't be. I left the mountain after...

[There really isn't a polite way to talk about someone's death to their face, is there? But Wei Wuxian has already alluded to it in previous conversation, so that makes this...easier?]

After your presumed death.

[He takes a breath. This is the harder point to speak of.]

I also don't know how you found out about...Song-daozhang. And if you somehow know, then who's to say that you're the only one? But I...it isn't something I necessarily wish to be common knowledge. I hope you understand.

( This pulls him up short, the confusion on his face leaking into his voice. )

I... because we helped Song-daozhang recover, after. I don't have reason to talk about him in general, but between him and living through A-Qing's memories—

( But he cuts himself off, shaking his head and clutching his potatoes like pearls. )

Shishu, you what? That doesn't make sense. I met you before the war, not long after leaving Gusu Lan. ( Another tick of a discrepancy he doesn't know is one. ) You'd been tracking down Xue Yang? Both you and Song-daozhong.

( Keeping to that address, following his martial uncle's lead. )

Qinghe Nie too custody after you captured him. Does none of that sound familiar? I wasn't—nothing happened for at least two years after.

[No.

No, none of this is right.

Song Lan was on the mountain. Baoshan Sanren may be wary of others from the outside world, but Xingchen is sure she isn't so heartless as to kick a wounded man out of her home. And how does Wei Wuxian know A-Qing? And her memories? What does that even mean?

Xingchen shakes his head through all of this and is about to speak up and say so when...that name leaves Wei Wuxian's lips.

Xue Yang.

His hands grasp at the fabric of his robes so hard that his knuckles turn white. It's hard to breathe. How long has it been since he's heard that wretched name or had good reason to think of its owner? All the atrocities he's committed come back to Xingchen: the cruel murders of the Chang Clan, the senseless massacre of Baixue Temple...targeting Song Lan just because he was Xingchen's friend. Xingchen can't speak for a few moments, his lips trembling with grief and anger. Xue Yang ruined so much. If he hated Xingchen so much he should have just faced him head-on! Why did he have to be so...so terrible?

Xingchen keeps shaking his head, his brows knitted harshly and his lips pursed into a tight line. When he finally is able to speak again, his voice is low, darker than he'd like, but Xue Yang is his personal demon, after all.]

I brought him to Lanling Jin for all the good that did. Maybe I should have passed him over to Qinghe Nie.

[Nie Mingjue probably would have executed him. Then Song Lan wouldn't have suffered. His temple wouldn't have been wiped out. Maybe...maybe the two of them would still be cultivation partners.]

( This is... different. Different is not good or bad, different is something to be wary of, and even this response: what the hell does it mean? )

I'd say yes, it would help, but the Wens attacked and Meng Yao released Xue Yang from the dungeon before his execution could be carried out. Shi... Shishu, I... don't understand. Lanling Jin had nothing to do with Xue Yang until Meng Yao was acting as Jin Guangyao.

( Everything horrible that followed is a list he can partly name from borrowed experience through Nie Mingjue's dead eyes, but that's not the point. The point is: )

I know what they say about my memory, but it's supposedly what I forget, not remembering two completely different truths. You wouldn't lie, and that's not what I recall. Just... even the timing? You didn't descend the mountain before I threw myself off the cliff in Nightless City?

( Yet another difference, if he knew. )

[This is all very confusing and awful, is what it is.]

Xue Yang was a disciple of the Jin Sect, so it should have been their responsibility to punish him for the Chang Clan massacre. If that happened for you.

[Anything seems to be possible at this point. But at least when the topic seems to steer away from Xue Yang, Xingchen's hands slowly begin to relax their grip. He's still incredibly uncertain, but he can get himself under control again.]

I wouldn't lie about any of this. I have no reason to suspect you would, either, but I swear I did not leave until after you died. Except...Nightless City? They say you died in the siege of the Burial Mounds.

[The popular theory - or at least the one Xingchen has heard the most - is that Jiang Wanyin was the one to kill Wei Wuxian, but true or not, it doesn't seem right to accuse a man's adoptive brother of such an act.]

( It would not, at least, be a surprise if he said so, though Wei Wuxian would defend Jiang Cheng for all that it had been a complicated situation where Jiang Cheng's actions helped to reinforce Wei Wuxian's decision at the time. Still, even more so, he's frowning. Unseen as it is, some can be heard in his voice. )

He never was of the Jin sect, only the Wens. His relationship with the Jins was all in the shadows?

( These differences are too significant. He doesn't know what to do with that, not fully. Slowly, as if sounding out each word... )

Is... it at all possible. We're both right? That the things we do or don't recall... aren't because of this place, or something odd messing with our memories. That there are two different places where we both lived?

( ...................... this hurts his head and fascinates him at the same time, because he cannot think of this man as a liar, and he doesn't trust his memory in all things, but he does in these conflicts of details. )

[It seems futile to argue these details now and, really, what point does it serve? Jin or Wen, Xue Yang is still reprehensible and Wei Wuxian seems to agree, or at least Xingchen would hope he does. Nightless City or the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian still died at some point. Everything being mismatched still doesn't really sit well with Xingchen, but the main events seem to crossover between the two of them.

Suddenly a little tired from all this, he leans back against the plant table, his shoulders dropping.]

Maybe. If we didn't agree on one or two little details, I'd put that down to hazy memory or bad information, but we have such drastically different experiences that can't be misremembered. And considering the others in our group who wouldn't call our home as such, it's clear we all come from different places. Perhaps even times, as impossible as that sounds. Maybe we're missing the forest for the trees.

( Oh, no, he knew the different times. Xiao Xingchen alive, Wen Qing breathing, these are not possible from his world, from his time.

That's a different sort of disturbing. Xingchen isn't reacting to Xue Yang in the soulbroken way; the name caused him pain, but he hadn't shattered, and Wei Wuxian doesn't know if mentioning Song Lan or Xue Yang at the time of Xiao Xingchen's death would have produced a response so comparatively... reasonable.

Wen Qing is even longer out of the world he knew best. So... )

For the sake of the forest, we... may have to admit, the layout of truth as we thought we knew it is more flexible than it was before. Maybe we... how we're pulled here, we don't understand either. The gates, that whole process, it's an unknown. If we're from the same worlds or not, from different times as... well, we are, Jiang Cheng doesn't know what he should and that's only explicable if he hasn't lived through the learning yet. So we're from different times, certainly, and different worlds, even if we thought we shared the same one.

( He pauses. )

I don't know about you, but I can really use a roasted potato after that thought.

( Also because he has no more wine right now. )

[All of this is still impossible, even if it seems to be the most likely explanation for everything. Time simply doesn't work like this, let alone people from multiple worlds converging on this same spot. It physically and literally cannot happen, and yet...

Maybe Xingchen is more tired than he has been for a long time because it's almost easier to simply accept the impossibility than try to stand up for logic again and again. Maybe he's slowly growing weaker the longer he doesn't cultivate as intensely as he once did.

In the end, he simply nods, accepting Wei Wuxian's findings, as well as the change of conversation. For real, this time, since Xingchen dragged them back to this in the first place.]

It would be a welcome improvement.

( AND SO HE SERVED HIS SHISHU A ROASTED POTATO AND IT WAS GOOD BECAUSE HE COULDN'T ACTUALLY MESS IT UP, IT WAS ROASTED, A TOUCH OF SALT, POTATO TIME! )

audio | un: yiling patriarch

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when u suddenly learn: u don't share a timeline

all around me are familiar faces

worn out places, worn out faces

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