Act 1, Scene 2: Pinprick Pain

Summary: Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian make their way to Qinghe, with an unexpected guest.

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: angst, panic attack

The morning was not Wei Wuxian’s friend. Sun streamed in through the open window—Wei Wuxian cursed his past self for not being smart enough to draw the damn blinds—and into the room, illuminating the metal filing cabinet that sat against the wall and the glinting off the glass that rolled slightly around the top of his desk. Apparently, his bed was not his friend either.

Wei Wuxian groaned, rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to rid the sleep from his eyes. He found himself almost tripping over an empty bottle of Emperor’s Smile that had fallen on the floor when he went to stand. He picked it up and tossed it into the garbage bin, the ringing of the glass hitting the metal echoing around the office at a frequency that caused Wei Wuxian’s head to ache a bit more. It had been a rough night, one he couldn’t fully remember.

Wei Wuxian remembered meeting with Nie Huaisang, talking about Nie Mingjue, eating some shitty soup, walking back to the office, and then...Nothing. He rubbed his face again, trying to recall what happened afterwards, when a piece of paper on the floor under his corkboard caught his eye. He walked over and picked it up. Ah, that was right. Wei Wuxian looked over the drawing of the small boy, one he drew a few months ago from memory, as a familiar ache formed in the center of his chest. He fondly brushed his finger over the boy’s cheek, remembering how often they were covered in dirt, how his clothes were always dirty from him running around and rolling on the ground at the park, how he always seemed to smell of grass and, oddly, turnips. Wei Wuxian tried to remember that smell, the smell of the earth, instead of the burning of ash, that filled his nostrils instead.

The ache in his chest grew.

Act 1, Scene 1: A Curious Case

Wei Wuxian picked up the fan as his eyes searched for any other evidence of someone entering his office while he had been out. Nothing else seemed out of place, save for a box of push pins that previously inhabited his drawer and now sat on the seat of a chair against the wall. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he turned his attention back to the familiar accessory in his hands. It truly was the same fan Nie Huaisang had used all those years ago. It still managed to look brand new; Wei Wuxian would never understand how his friend achieved such a feat. He turned it over in his hands a few times, examining the craftsmanship, before opening it. There, on the fine gold fabric, was a message written in black ink. I need your help. Meet tonight. 7 PM. Guanyin Temple. That was all. No other information and no signature, though Wei Wuxian didn’t need one. The fan was signature enough.