#ningyu

For a long time, the only person who ever treated him well, who ever loved him, was his mother. And Mo Xuanyu had to watch her be abused and ridiculed, spared so few privileges or possessions that she could barely protect and provide for her son—all because she was the daughter of a servant. Mo Xuanyu had fared no better, sneaking out to do dangerous work to earn the money that his mother couldn’t, only to return home to be beaten and have his prizes stolen.

According to the village, any misfortune was undoubtedly the fault Mo-er-niangzi and her freakish son, those two ugly stains upon the Mo family name. Of course the grime needed to be scrubbed away… As long as those two stains were kept out of sight, the Mo family thought that they were a dignified and honorable household, a moral example for the village.

At such an abhorrent claim, Mo Xuanyu can react in only one way: laugh until he sobs.

The reason he even has the chance to laugh is because he no longer lives in Mo Village. Years after Mo Xuanyu’s birth, his father had finally decided to acknowledge him and bring him to Jinlintai to become a cultivator.

Mo Xuanyu’s mother had always told him that, one day, his father would remember them. It had been the single hope she held onto.

As for Mo Xuanyu, he had detested his father for forgetting them. For leaving his mother alone to a life of shame and hardship. He had long stopped believing that his father would ever come for him.

Now…Mo Xuanyu isn’t quite sure what to think of him. Especially because, even when he did come…he continued to ignore Mo Xuanyu, obviously preferring his grandson Jin Ling.

And he still left Mo Xuanyu’s mother behind in that terrible village, protected by nothing but the faint promise of Mo Xuanyu’s success at Jinlintai.

Although Jinlintai is still a much better place than Mo Village, where Mo Xuanyu can study cultivation and has even been personally assigned a secret demonic cultivation project by his father, he isn’t safe here, either. Instead of being bullied by his cousin, he is bullied by Jin disciples. Instead of being beaten by the head of the Mo household, he is beaten by Jin-furen. Instead of struggling to earn money, he struggles to learn the customs of a cultivation society that is inherently hostile to him.

All while he watches everyone else enjoy wealth, privileges, power, and respect—and abuse those advantages without consequence.

No, there is no such thing as an honorable family, a just world, or a fair moral code. Only darkness closing in around him, shadows in the gilded halls betraying people’s true forms, whispered voices taunting him with venomous words.

Even with help from his er-ge Jin Guangyao—the only person other than his mother to ever treat him well—there is still nowhere safe.

Nowhere to escape.

Except to…

Demonic cultivation. The path of freedom.

During his dangerous searches for money as a child, Mo Xuanyu had first encountered ghosts and demons and fierce corpses, the creatures of darkness that walk this cursed world, preying on the living. At first, he had been afraid of them.

He soon became fascinated by them.

Downtrodden and maligned until he no longer felt human, how could Mo Xuanyu not be drawn to these vile beings? How could he listen to their pained cries in the night and not be moved? How could he not seek to weave himself into their tortured existences…?

He hungers for knowledge of them. To see them, speak to them, meld with their auras.

Demonic cultivation lets him access the resentful energy that lives inside them and make it part of himself.

Demonic cultivation gives him a path to follow, one that embraces the cruelty of the world rather than deny it, that gives him a hero to look up to in the Yiling Laozu, that earns him the respect of his father—all without the useless rules that have always restricted him.

The only rules that Mo Xuanyu must follow are the three that Er-ge asks him to.

First: keep their project a secret. Second: do not kill indiscriminately. (Xue Yang never follows that rule, so Mo Xuanyu suspects it’s not very strict.)

And third…

Never wake the Ghost General.

Chained and stripped of his consciousness, the Ghost General slumbers in a huge, heavily-warded cell that extends so far back that the wall disappears into the darkness. Even without a mind of his own, the Ghost General is extremely dangerous. He can resist the control of Xue Yang’s reconstructed Yinhufu, leaving anyone in his path truly defenseless.

From the rampant myths of the cultivation world, Xue Yang’s boasting, and Mo Xuanyu’s own visits to the ominous cell, Mo Xuanyu has formed a rich, if incomplete, picture of the Ghost General. Hands with sharp nails like claws, arms strong enough to break a sword of lower cultivation in half; a ferocious roar that inspires fear in anyone nearby; lifeless white eyes that fill his presence with a chilling gloom. He has little control over his emotions, unleashing his fury at the slightest provocation.

But the Yiling Laozu describes him very differently. According to the stories scattered in Wei Wuxian’s remaining notes like a fragmented diary, Mo Xuanyu has also learned that the Ghost General is timid, contemplative, and eager to help others. A talented cook who gives the best piggyback rides. And a terrible salesman, too.

It hasn’t been easy for Mo Xuanyu to combine these contrasting images in his mind. One, a harbinger of destruction, a manifestation of resentment, a spirit plunged into the darkness of death. The other, a kind, quiet soul who would rather heal than harm.

The world has either forgotten or chosen to ignore the latter part of Wen Ning’s identity. Yet another injustice inflicted upon the Yiling Laozu and his right-hand man…

But Mo Xuanyu reveres them as they are meant to be revered.

The longer he spends in the dungeons of Jinlintai, the more he longs to speak to the Ghost General. But it is impossible when the nails suppressing Wen Ning’s consciousness must be kept in his skull at all times.

Still, Mo Xuanyu has tried.

“What do you dream about?” Mo Xuanyu whispers as he stands in the dim stone corridor outside the cell. He can faintly make out the tattered robes and hanging head of the Ghost General deep in the shadows of the cell.

No answer.

Mo Xuanyu rubs the tip of his shoe into the floor.

“Can you dream?”

Nothing but the sound of Mo Xuanyu’s own breath.

“I have a lot of nightmares…”

He inches closer to ward surrounding the cell, wanting to pass through but knowing that he will receive a painful shock of spiritual energy if he touches the barrier. Xue Yang hasn’t taught him how to get inside the cell yet.

Sometimes Mo Xuanyu places a hand on the barrier and endures the pain anyway, just to get a bit closer. After all, he is well used to pain by now, and it is easy to endure when it’s by his own choice. But today he doesn’t try.

“Every once in a while, my dreams are good,” Mo Xuanyu continues. “The good dreams are where I’m still little and the Yiling Laozu is still alive, and I run away to the Burial Mounds with my mother. Then I don’t have to see anyone, and I don’t have to live in this awful place. I can study demonic cultivation with the Yiling Laozu as my shizun.”

During his previous visits to the Ghost General, he has already talked about how at home his cousin bullies him and here the Jin disciples humiliate him, so he doesn’t need to explain that part. Nor does he need to repeat that only his mother and Er-ge, maybe his father and Xue Yang, think he has any talent or intelligence—and even then, they still don’t understand him.

He doesn’t need to say that the divide between himself and the world as huge as a canyon or an ocean, yet feels like a cramped, pitch-black cellar he’d been shoved into to suffocate.

How the only way he can make room for himself in this cellar is by digging down into the darkness. By walking the tunnels of the cavern that the Yiling Laozu has dug before him.

How sometimes, he wants to break out of the cellar and burn Jinlintai and Mo Manor to the ground.

He has told the Ghost General all of it.

Xue Yang says that Wen Ning is incredibly loyal, remembering his commitment to Wei Wuxian even while his mind is asleep. Surely that must mean that Wen Ning might remember the words that Mo Xuanyu shares with him, even just a few.

Villainized by the world and sentenced to death by the Great Clans not once, but twice, the Ghost General must understand the hell that Mo Xuanyu lives in…

“I had a new dream last night.” Mo Xuanyu’s voice quivers, the memory of the dream overwhelming him like a sacred vision. “I dreamed that Wei Wuxian’s spirit possessed a new body, then he found me took me away from this awful place…”

“Well, look at that,” says a voice from behind. Mo Xuanyu jumps.

Xue Yang laughs, flashing a grin of sharp, white teeth. “What a sight. The little hanged ghost is talking to the big bad chained ghost.”

“Leave me alone,” Mo Xuanyu mutters, turning to face the cell again.

Xue Yang had taken to calling Mo Xuanyu “little hanged ghost” because of his painted face and affinity for demonic cultivation. And, Mo Xuanyu bitterly assumes, his general ability to bring misfortune. Mo Xuanyu had protested the name at first, convinced that Xue Yang was mocking him, but he felt better once Xue Yang explained that it was a compliment.

Sometimes he still wonders if Xue Yang is mocking him, though.

Knows he’s mocking him.

Just like everyone else.

“Don’t be so shy,” Xue Yang chuckles. “Did he tell you his favorite color yet? Favorite flower? Favorite cultivator to kill? Come on, share some knowledge with your elder.”

“He can’t tell me any of those things.”

“Ah, how sad.”

Mo Xuanyu can’t help but want to impress Xue Yang, so he adds, “I think he can hear me, though.”

“If the dead are going to listen to anyone, it’ll be me.” Xue Yang waves the Yinhufu at him as he carves an opening in the ward and steps inside the cell. “Since you want to talk to our corpse buddy, I’ll let you watch me today…”

* * *

Several months pass like this.

Mo Xuanyu studies demonic cultivation feverishly during the night and suffers at the hands of the Jin disciples during the day. When he plays tricks on them for revenge, he gets a beating from Jin-furen, a long, concerned talk from Er-ge, and a candy from Xue Yang.

Then he visits the Ghost General to let out everything that torments him, to ask every question on his mind.

Then it all repeats.

The cellar gets smaller. More cramped.

Mo Xuanyu digs deeper.

All the while, an unbearable, poisonous hatred for the world creeps farther into his bones.

Eventually, Xue Yang teaches him how to enter Wen Ning’s cell. He spends hours inside studying, hungering to know what makes the Ghost General so different from other fierce corpses. But in truth, Mo Xuanyu uses half his time to sit a few paces away from Wen Ning, sometimes staring at him, sometimes attempting to draw him, too overcome with reverence and nervousness to get any closer.

He studies Wen Ning’s empty, distant stare, and wonders what he thinks about. Follows the black veins of resentful energy that creep along Wen Ning’s neck, and wonders how much power silently hums trapped under his pale gray skin. Examines Wen Ning’s slumped shoulders as he sits, chained and unmoving, and wonders if he feels sad.

Sad like Mo Xuanyu.

Caged and miserable…

To be honest, Mo Xuanyu doesn’t like Xue Yang’s idea of controlling Wen Ning with the Yinhufu. The Yiling Laozu may have created the Yinhufu as his most powerful weapon, enabling him to hold the strength of a thousand armies in his hand, to channel the vengeful energy of all the world’s undead and unleash it upon his enemies…but he had never written anything about using it on the Ghost General.

And he had worked endlessly to restore Wen Ning’s consciousness. Now that consciousness is forced to lie dormant, silenced by a pair of nails.

Is this not the destruction of the Yiling Laozu’s greatest work?

Why control the Ghost General when they could join forces with him?

Er-ge always advises Mo Xuanyu to make friends and allies. Learn what they care about and help them, and they may help you in return one day. Do not openly retaliate when others offend you; do not attract wrath and ill will with misdeeds.

Mo Xuanyu knows that Er-ge’s advice is the best, because Er-ge has been the only one to help Mo Xuanyu stay alive in this pit of vipers, but the advice just doesn’t work for Mo Xuanyu. Everyone has already decided to hate him just for breathing, so why should he bother appeasing them?

But those are normal people. Normal people are cruel and corrupt.

The Ghost General is completely different.

The Ghost General would understand him, would listen to him, would not hate him on sight like everyone else does.

Every day, Mo Xuanyu aches more and more, longing to speak to him.

But he follows Er-ge’s third rule.

He does not wake the Ghost General.

* * *

That is, not until the last crack forms in his composure, when a group of Jin disciples steal his makeup powders, dump them everywhere and use them to write profane insults all over his prized artwork.

It’s not nearly the worst thing that has happened to Mo Xuanyu.

But it’s enough to push him over the edge.

Eyes filled with tears and throat sore from crying, Mo Xuanyu bundles his empty powder cases and ruined papers into his arms and runs down to the dungeons.

He isn’t sure if it’s because he wants to ask Wen Ning to avenge him, if he wants to finally hear a response when he pours out his emotions, or if he wants to free Wen Ning’s consciousness like he should have months ago, but—

With wooden powder cases and ruined drawings scattered on the floor around him, he slowly steps behind the Ghost General, who sits lifeless in the back of the cell.

Mo Xuanyu kneels.

Hands shaking, he finds the two nails in the back of Wen Ning’s head.

Slowly pulls them out.

Wen Ning arches back and howls a guttural, hair-raising cry. Then he slumps forward, trembling quietly on the floor with ragged sleeves covering his face.

Mo Xuanyu kneels frozen in place, unable to even wipe his wet eyes. Anticipation tingles inside him, painful like a thousand needle pricks. He works up the courage to rise to his feet and begin tiptoeing around Wen Ning.

“Get back!” Wen Ning jerks away, long chains clanking as he flees to the far wall, knocking several powder cases flying across the cell.

“Wait! I’m not—”

“Stay away!” Wen Ning cries, his voice hoarse. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

Mo Xuanyu had been about to say, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Who knew that the Ghost General was actually afraid of hurting him?

Mo Xuanyu bows, feeling dizzy. “I…I believe you won’t hurt me.”

“Then—please leave…before I break your trust…”

Mo Xuanyu wants to step closer, but can barely move as his pulse pounds in his ears.

He can’t believe this is really happening.

His voice sticks in his throat before he can ask, “Do you know where you are?”

Wen Ning stares at the floor for several moments before giving a small, stiff nod.

“…Can you recognize me?”

Wen Ning’s gaze drifts up to Mo Xuanyu before darting away immediately. “Your voice.”

Mo Xuanyu can barely contain the excitement that leaps inside his chest, like a dragon taking flight. The Ghost General remembers him! Had listened to him all this time!

Wen Ning glances at the cell’s entrance. “Where is the other person who comes here?”

“Lao-Xue? He’s out…probably doing some dirty work for my er-ge.” Work that they don’t trust me with.

“He isn’t here?” Wen Ning sounds relieved.

Mo Xuanyu shakes his head. “Just me.”

Suddenly noticing the mess he’s made of Wen Ning’s cell, Mo Xuanyu hurries to pick up all the papers and boxes. So stupid! He should have brought a gift, not littered the floor!

“You—you—” Wen Ning stammers. He lifts his hand and points a clawed finger. Not at Mo Xuanyu, but in his direction, as if pointing directly at him will be offensive. “Your face is—”

“It’s makeup.”

Wen Ning shakes his head. “No. You…you’ve been crying.”

Mo Xuanyu is so dumbfounded that he freezes, still bent over in the middle of picking up a pile of papers, and stares at the Ghost General with his mouth open.

He had imagined countless possibilities for their first conversation, but he had never expected it to go like this.

The cell is so dimly lit that no one should have been able to tell that he had been crying. But the smeared makeup must have given it away—or can the Ghost General see in the dark? A possibility to ask about later…

That gives Mo Xuanyu the idea to light a talisman. When the soft yellow light illuminates the cell, a gentle melancholy spreads across Wen Ning’s face.

“You have cried.” Wen Ning curls his arms into his chest, his back pressed against the wall, as if trying to shrink away from the light. “I…I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No! Never!”

“Oh…” Some of the tension in Wen Ning’s shoulders seems to relax. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“No, this is the safest place! It’s the rest of the world that isn’t safe!” Mo Xuanyu gestures so wildly that he drops most of his papers again. “Outside, they’ll take everything from me! Everything!”

Wen Ning blinks at him. “Who?”

“Everyone!”

Warily, Wen Ning leans away as he looks at Mo Xuanyu’s robes. “You are a gongzi of the Jin Clan.”

Mo Xuanyu knows that his clan was instrumental in the extermination of the Wen Clan. According to the legends, when the Ghost General went on his rampages, it was the Jin Clan that he targeted the most, his hatred for them unbounded.

“Yes, but I don’t care about my clan at all,” Mo Xuanyu sneers, wanting to make it as clear as possible where his sympathies lie. “I’m a demonic cultivator.”

“You shouldn’t study demonic cultivation. It’ll harm you.”

Mo Xuanyu had never thought that the right-hand man of the Yiling Laozu would say something like this. Demonic cultivation is what enabled them to rise above everyone!

And after all, the way that Wei Wuxian died, devoured by the ghosts under his control, is only a rumor. He could even still be alive somewhere, slowly rebuilding his power.

“Why?” Mo Xuanyu asks. “How could it harm me any more than this world has?”

“Please be careful,” Wen Ning says, turning his face away.

“But how can I give up demonic cultivation? It’s…it’s all I have.”

Wen Ning fiddles with the chains around his wrist. “I’m sorry.”

This conversation has been one shock after another. How can the Ghost General apologize to someone as insignificant as him?

“Don’t be sorry… It’s good that I study demonic cultivation. I can assist you.”

“…Why did you wake me?”

Mo Xuanyu isn’t quite sure himself, but he does know what his purpose is now that the Ghost General has awakened. “I will help you. Anything you want to do, I will help you in every way possible.”

Wen Ning seems taken off guard. “There is no need.”

“R…Really? You don’t want anything?”

Wen Ning shakes his head. He looks around at the items strewn across the floor. “You dropped these.”

With great care, the Ghost General begins picking up Mo Xuanyu’s belongings.

“Wait, wait, you don’t need to do that!” Mo Xuanyu rushes to take the wooden cases from his hands, suddenly wanting to cry again. “Let me do it!”

Wen Ning raises one of the cases up to his eye level, examining it. He holds it cautiously, as if it is a fragile blossom that will fall apart with one wrong touch.

“These cases are all empty,” Wen Ning says in confusion.

“It’s because those bastards dumped everything out,” Mo Xuanyu says, unable to keep the hatred out of his voice. “Bastards—like me and Er-ge, but a worse kind. They’re the real bastards…”

After speaking to the unconsciousness Ghost General for so many months, Mo Xuanyu is quick to share to unsavory details of his life, still expecting to be met with stillness and silence.

But now, the Ghost General answers him.

Wen Ning hands him the powder case. “What was inside?”

It really must be a dream.

Comfort from Wen Ning’s gentle presence clashes with the excitement buzzing inside Mo Xuanyu. He points to his face. “My powders. Now they’re all ruined…I can’t even fight back or do anything about it, nothing that’ll really change anything, only make things harder for me…”

With sadness in his gaze, Wen Ning gives a low, hoarse hum. “I know how that feels.”

“You…you do?” Mo Xuanyu swallows. “How?”

“I wasn’t a very strong cultivator.”

The Ghost General had been condemned and persecuted in life and death, but Mo Xuanyu had never imagined that any regular cultivator could have come along and bullied him.

Mo Xuanyu balls his fists, jaw clenched. “I’ll…I’ll fight them for you…”

Wen Ning just stares at him with wide eyes.

“Gongzi,” Wen Ning finally says. “Thank you. But you really shouldn’t be here.”

“But I want to be with you.” He can’t bear to be sent away already, to be alone, to return to the world above…

Mo Xuanyu isn’t sure if his eyes are tricking him, but he thinks he seems a small smile on Wen Ning’s somber gray face.

“I hope you get new powders,” Wen Ning says.

“Th—Thank you! I have to ask my er-ge to find more. I hate going to the market, bad things always happen to me… But I’m not sure if my er-ge will help. He tells me not to wear makeup like this. He doesn’t let me wear it when I go see my father.”

“I like it.”

“You like it?” Mo Xuanyu feels like he’s going to burst with joy. “Why? Today it’s smeared… And even when it isn’t, everyone says I look crazy. Lao-Xue says I look like a hanged ghost.”

Wen Ning tilts his head, as if considering this. “You do.”

“Then why do you like it?”

“Why do you wear it?”

Mo Xuanyu is surprised at having another question thrown back at him, but he cannot refuse the Ghost General.

“I started painting my face so that no one would pay attention to who I was. They would just see a hideous mask. Then, when people said I was shameful, it wouldn’t be a lie. But I started to like it. I wanted to try more patterns, more colors, heavier and heavier… It’s the only thing special about me.”

Wen Ning’s voice is soft. “That isn’t the only thing.”

Feeling strangely warm, Mo Xuanyu looks down at the floor, unsure what to say. But he can’t stop himself from sneaking expectant glances at Wen Ning from the corner of his eye.

“Gongzi…I think I need to rest,” Wen Ning says. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I do need help with one thing.”

Mo Xuanyu straightens his posture. “Yes, anything!”

Wen Ning points a shaky finger at Mo Xuanyu’s closed fist, where he holds the two nails.

It takes a few moments for Mo Xuanyu to understand. A sickening feeling churns inside his stomach. “You…you want them back in?”

Wen Ning nods.

Tightening his fist around the nails, Mo Xuanyu’s voice cracks, “Why?”

Wen Ning has just returned to the world, and he already wants to leave?

“The others will know that you have taken the nails out,” Wen Ning says.

“But…but you only need them because Lao-Xue and Er-ge think you’ll hurt them if—”

“I might.”

“Huh?”

Wen Ning’s shoulders are rounded, arms drooped at his sides. “They are in more danger if I’m conscious of my emotions. Thank you, gongzi, for coming to visit me. But I must go back to sleep.”

Mo Xuanyu’s eyes begin to sting. He feels that he shouldn’t ask, but the question escapes him anyway, “Can I…can I come talk to you again?”

Wen Ning is silent for a few moments.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Gui-jiangjun! Thank you…” Mo Xuanyu fiddles with his sleeve. “The next time I come, will you…will you call me Mo Xuanyu?”

Wen Ning nods, eyes brightening. “As long as you call me Wen Ning.”

It takes all of Mo Xuanyu’s strength of will to return the nails to Wen Ning’s skull. When he’s done, he gathers his belongings and slips out of the cell, carefully sealing the breach in the barrier so his actions will not be discovered.

His entire body trembles as he carries the papers and empty cases back to his room, mind whirring with plans of his next visit.

* * *

Wen Ning isn’t sure how long it is until he wakes again.

The back of his head feels sore. The dull pain of this body is different from anything he had felt while alive, but it’s still pain. Nevertheless, it fades quickly, as it is close to impossible for this body to receive any permanent harm.

Mo Xuanyu is standing in front of him, holding a lit talisman that emits a warm yellow glow. He is speaking words that Wen Ning doesn’t quite understand yet, but Wen Ning can see that his face paint is no longer smeared.

“You got new powders,” Wen Ning remarks once the young demonic cultivator stops talking. Wen Ning’s voice is much lower and rougher than it had been in life, and although he had gotten used to it long ago, it still startles him after waking up from unconsciousness.

Mo Xuanyu grins. “I did. My er-ge is so good to me. Do…do you like how I painted it today?”

Although Mo Xuanyu wears heavy makeup that should belong to a disturbing character, he applies it quite effectively, with a bright white base, arched black outlines circling his eyes, a vibrant red all over his cheeks. It is hard to guess how old he is, but judging by his voice and slender frame, he seems to be a youth of fifteen or sixteen years of age. He must have a beautiful face, because even through this makeup, Wen Ning can see his delicateness.

“I like it,” Wen Ning replies.

Eyes bright, Mo Xuanyu sits cross-legged in front of him.

“Why have you come today?” Wen Ning asks.

“Because it was the first chance I had.” Mo Xuanyu raises his eyebrows, as though this is obvious.

“You…you had no reason?

Mo Xuanyu lets out a disbelieving huff of a laugh. “You’re my reason.”

He takes out a stack of papers from his robes and holds it out to Wen Ning. Wen Ning’s heart sinks when he notices bruises on his wrists. He will have to help Mo Xuanyu heal those.

“Here, I…I made some drawings for you,” Mo Xuanyu says. “My finest work.”

Wen Ning blinks a few times, still trying to process everything, to wrap his head around exactly why this gongzi wants to see him so badly—and even gives him presents.

He is a prisoner. Confined here to atone for his sins against the Jin Clan, against the entire cultivation world. How could he be treated with such kindness?

Jiejie had always warned him to—

…

Jiejie…

He closes his eyes. This had been the single good thing about the nails—they kept him from feeling his emotions. He had only been able to think the most rudimentary thoughts, hear voices without quite understanding them, and absorb knowledge at the slowest pace.

He hadn’t been able to truly process anything until the first time the nails were removed, by the one Mo Xuanyu had called “Lao-Xue,” the wild demonic cultivator who had simply laughed at his panic and confusion.

Wen Ning has not finished processing anything since.

Now that the nails are out again, his memories and emotions flood him, overwhelming him, whether he wants them to or not.

Jiejie always warns him to be wary of others. To avoid trouble. To not make friends in bad places.

He has already gotten himself and Jiejie into so much trouble…his whole family…fatal, irreversible trouble…

And a dungeon cell in Jinlintai must be the worst of all the bad places to make a friend.

But…how can he refuse this sad, friendly gongzi?

“…Th…Thank you…”

Slowly and gently, lest he rip the papers, Wen Ning takes the drawings from Mo Xuanyu’s hands, shoving down his emotions as he says a silent apology to Jiejie.

He studies the drawings. There are several strikingly accurate portraits of himself, as well as papers adorned with branches of mulberry trees, wilted peonies, and what appear to be ghosts emerging from the darkness. Truly an inauspicious set of paintings. Wen Ning would wonder if Mo Xuanyu is trying to hand him an ill omen, but the drawings have been crafted with great care and detail, as if the pages have been imbued with all the painter’s passion and spirit.

When he looks up, Mo Xuanyu is watching him with anxious rapture.

This is not at all what Wen Ning had thought imprisonment would be like.

“You are a very good artist.”

Mo Xuanyu’s spirited grin makes something lift in Wen Ning’s chest. “I can make you lots more. Let me tell you about these first.”

Mo Xuanyu explains the meaning of each of his drawings, as well as when he made them and what his thoughts had been while he painted, which were often either vengeful or quite morbid. But despite the demonic cultivator’s unsettling stories, Wen Ning feels more and more comfortable as he listens.

Jiejie is always displeased by Wen Ning’s curiosity about questionable objects and strange places, always wanting to explore despite his weakness and timidity. But Wen Ning has always been drawn to the unknown. The uncommon. The eccentric.

That’s part of why he had been so drawn to…

To…

Well. It’s also why he feels so comfortable with Mo Xuanyu.

And Mo Xuanyu helps him not to think so much about those things…

* * *

Mo Xuanyu seems to return whenever he has the opportunity, bringing new things to show each time. Sometimes Mo Xuanyu has a lot to say, sometimes he has a lot to ask, sometimes he shouts and kicks the wall, sometimes he just sits and cries.

But he always brings a gift.

At first, it’s mostly drawings and trinkets. But as Mo Xuanyu learns more about Wen Ning, the items begin to change.

When Wen Ning says he enjoys growing herbs and flowers to use in medicine, Mo Xuanyu brings plants from Jinlintai’s gardens. When Wen Ning remarks how much time he used to spend on archery when he was younger, Mo Xuanyu brings his mostly-unused bow and arrow (although even if Wen Ning wasn’t afraid of breaking the bow with his strength, there wasn’t much room to shoot). When Wen Ning mentions that Wei Wuxian had crafted a resentment-trapping necklace to help him stay calm, and that it has long since been broken and lost, Mo Xuanyu makes a new one and gifts it to him to wear while they are together.

None of the gifts can remain with Wen Ning, lest Xue Yang find them. But warmth grows inside Wen Ning at the heartfelt gestures.

He still doesn’t understand why Mo Xuanyu is so kind to him, when he has killed so many disciples of the Jin Clan. Guilt coils around his ribs, pressing in on him, as he knows he has nothing to give in return. All he can offer is medical advice whenever Mo Xuanyu suffers another injury from experiments gone wrong or Jin Clan bullies or disciplinary beatings.

Mo Xuanyu does follow his advice, taking better care of himself. Wen Ning is grateful for it, especially as he becomes fonder and more protective of the demonic cultivator every time they meet.

The warmth continues to grow, filling the cold hollowness inside Wen Ning with a comforting glow.

* * *

One day, Mo Xuanyu brings a xiangqi board.

“Oh, Mo-gongzi…I don’t think you’d enjoy playing with me,” Wen Ning says sheepishly, at a loss in the face of Mo Xuanyu’s obvious eagerness. “I’ve never been good at games like this.”

Wen Ning does not have the mind of a strategist, instead taking most things at face value, traveling one step at a time with little foresight or calculation. Meanwhile, Mo Xuanyu is creative and inventive, always seeking deep answers and unorthodox paths—how could he enjoy playing xiangqi with someone like Wen Ning?

“I told you, stop calling me ‘gongzi.’ And you don’t need to be good at it,” Mo Xuanyu replies, not discouraged in the slightest. “It’s just for fun.”

“If you say so. I just thought I’d warn you.”

Mo Xuanyu gives a crooked grin, his sharp canines and the glint in his eyes making him look a bit wild. “Then I’ll warn you, too—my style is very aggressive.”

“Ah…” Wen Ning doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of course the little demonic cultivator would play violently. “Thank you for telling me.”

Although Wen Ning fears for the fate of his xiangqi army, he feels proud of Mo Xuanyu for being willing to utterly demolish him. He prefers this over being idolized, even if it comes at his expense.

Mo Xuanyu rubs a xiangqi piece on the edge of the board, darkness creeping into his gaze. “Er-ge is always too busy to play…” he says under his breath. “He likes Jin Ling better than me…so does Father…”

Wen Ning swallows out of habit, quietly waiting for Mo Xuanyu to let everything out. Sometimes he mumbles to himself without seeming to realize it, drifting into resentful thoughts more frequently as time passes. Whether it’s a trait he’s always had or the effect of neglect and demonic cultivation, Wen Ning is unsure.

Mo Xuanyu has been increasingly disillusioned with his family recently, complaining more often about his father, and occasionally his er-ge. It’s inevitable, Wen Ning supposes. Mo Xuanyu’s position is not good, and this is the Jin Clan…

Wen Ning only wishes he could help.

“How about we get started,” Wen Ning suggests, and they soon submerge themselves in the game.

As they play, Wen Ning’s mind wanders to the past, each piece on the board serving as a portal to a different memory.

“My jiejie really likes this game,” he finds himself saying.

Mo Xuanyu looks up, distracted. “Is she really good at it? She must be, she’s brilliant…”

Wen Ning never knows how to react when Mo Xuanyu praises his jiejie. After the Wen Clan fell, he had hoped that the world would remember his jiejie not for her clan name, but for her talents and commitment to helping others. If only one person remembered her, that would be enough.

So when Mo Xuanyu admires his jiejie, Wen Ning can’t help but smile.

“She was—” Wen Ning cuts off. Mo Xuanyu gives him a wary glance.

Wen Ning hugs his arms into his chest and takes a slow, shaky breath. Then continues, “She is extremely good. She can beat anyone, so the other Wen disciples never wanted to play with her. Not that she really liked them enough to play with them…but she did play with my family a lot.”

A weight lifts inside Wen Ning at the memories of his old life. The fragrant spices and tangy flavor of saozi mian still filling his senses as he watches Jiejie play xiangqi with Granny after dinner…giggling when Fourth Uncle comes in to distract them with his off-key singing…

Images of his hometown begin to blend with the bleak gray scenery of the Burial Mounds.

‘My family likes playing so much that while we were living in the Burial Mounds, they all worked together to create a xiangqi set from a dead tree stump. Resentful energy would swirl around it and sometimes block your vision, but it worked. It brought us a lot of joy during a hard time.”

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t respond, just gazes at him.

“Fourth Uncle would always make a scene about Jiejie going extra hard on him, yet letting Granny win.” A small laugh escapes Wen Ning. “And you never know when A-Yuan is going to sneak over and sabotage your board. Once he found out that the xiang pieces were elephants, he always wanted to steal them.”

“I wish I had the chance to play with your family,” Mo Xuanyu says quietly, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe.

…Me too… Wen Ning thinks.

Mo Xuanyu continues, “I think about going to the Burial Mounds a lot.”

“You wouldn’t want to go there just to play xiangqi.”

“Well, it wouldn’t just be for xiangqi. I would have a lot of things to do there.” Mo Xuanyu ducks his head. “Do you…do you know how much resentful energy is there?”

Wen Ning shakes his head, always trying to evade Mo Xuanyu’s darker questions. It’s better for Mo Xuanyu not to know what the Burial Mounds were really like.

Mo Xuanyu frowns slightly. “Oh…I bet the Yiling Laozu recorded it somewhere.”

With a glance down at the board, Wen Ning realizes he has forgotten that it’s his turn. Embarrassed, he hurriedly makes a clumsy move that, with his luck, will probably end the game for him.

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t seem interested in his move. “Did you ever play xiangqi with the Yiling Laozu?”

“Yes.”

Mo Xuanyu leans forward. “What was it like?”

“Terrifying.”

“He was that good?”

Wen Ning’s lips curl. “Yes…but my jiejie can still beat him. Wei-gongzi kept challenging her to rematches, but he just ended up losing a lot of money for seed potatoes.”

It’s a bittersweet memory to imagine Jiejie and Wei-gongzi’s amusing shopping quarrels, the phantoms of their voices and faces both comforting him and leaving him feeling lonely.

“That’s why I can’t play with Lao-Xue,” Mo Xuanyu says with a frustrated wave of his hand. “He always wants to bet, and on top of that he cheats. How can I cheat if he’s cheating too?”

“That doesn’t sound fun. I can’t even win a fair game.”

Wen Ning watches Mo Xuanyu capture his ma piece with a suspicious move, then realizes what Mo Xuanyu had said. “…Wait.”

Mo Xuanyu looks up, eyebrows raised. “Huh?”

“Are you…are you cheating right now?”

Mo Xuanyu laughs, his smile lopsided but bright.

Laughing with him, Wen Ning accepts the inevitable defeat.

He doesn’t mind. Mo Xuanyu doesn’t have many happy moments in his life; here, Wen Ning will let him have as many as he needs. And Mo Xuanyu’s antics warm Wen Ning, dispelling the cold fog that always seems to hang around him.

Despite everything Wen Ning has lost, he has somehow won Mo Xuanyu’s friendship.

Even if he doesn’t feel like he deserves it…Wen Ning has been given a tiny bit of happiness, too.

* * *

One day, the item that Mo Xuanyu brings is not a gift he has selected for Wen Ning, but a gift he has received.

A sage green fan with elegant white floral patterns.

Wen Ning is not sure why he senses it, but…

Something is going to change.

* * *

“Wen-da-ge! Wake up!”

Hands shake Wen Ning by the shoulders. Pain pulses in the back of his head.

“Wen-da-ge!”

Confused, Wen Ning blinks as Mo Xuanyu comes into focus. Wen Ning is seated on the floor, and Mo Xuanyu is gripping his shoulders, leaning over him. His hair is disheveled, his makeup messily applied. His eyes are bloodshot.

“What happened?” Wen Ning says.

Mo Xuanyu grabs his wrist and tugs him, but Wen Ning doesn’t move. “Come on! We need to get out of here!”

“What’s wrong?”

“My father is dead, and Lao-Xue got kicked out of the sect!”

Wen Ning instinctively curls his fingers around Mo Xuanyu’s arm, then jerks away in fear of hurting him. “Wh—How?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about my father. He can go to hell!” Mo Xuanyu drops to the floor on his knees and grabs Wen Ning’s wrist again. “But my er-ge—he’s—he’s cleaning up the sect, and he’s not letting me practice demonic cultivation anymore!” Mo Xuanyu grits his teeth in anger. “He’s my brother! How could he do this to me? He knows I can’t be a regular disciple. He knows how they treat me—that I’ll—that I’ll go insane if he takes this away from me!”

“Mo Xuanyu—”

Tears stream down Mo Xuanyu’s cheeks, leaving trails of black from his makeup. “He’s going to pay for this…I thought…I thought he…” I thought he loved me for who I am.

“He is trying to look out for you—”

“No, he isn’t! Er-ge might kick me out no matter what I do, like he did to Xue Yang! If I get kicked out…my mother…” Mo Xuanyu bunches and un-bunches Wen Ning’s tattered sleeve in his trembling hands. “My mother is only safe in Mo Village because of the status that the Jin Clan gives us. If I get kicked out, she’ll be in danger. We need to run away now before Er-ge makes me leave, so that I have time to get to her.”

“You would both be safer if you stayed—”

“Don’t you understand?” Mo Xuanyu snarls. “Er-ge is forbidding me from practicing demonic cultivation. This is my last chance to see you. We need to leave now.”

Wen Ning opens and closes his mouth a few times before he can speak. “We?”

“Of course, we! You think I’m not going to take you with me?”

“I…”

Wen Ning notices that there are no longer chains around his wrists or ankles. Mo Xuanyu must have broken them before waking him.

Trembling, Mo Xuanyu leans forward, almost into Wen Ning’s lap. “I’m not leaving you here!”

Carefully, Wen Ning rests his hand on Mo Xuanyu’s shoulder, hoping that the touch is gentle enough to comfort him. “I can’t come with you.”

“Why not?!”

“If you are determined to leave…” Wen Ning sighs. “You will be safer if you escape on your own. If others find out that you have taken the Ghost General with you, I’m afraid you won’t be spared.”

“Who cares?” Mo Xuanyu’s face hardens, a wild fire blazing in his eyes. “We’re both able to fight. No one will be able to touch us.”

I don’t want to fight anymore, Wen Ning thinks.

But also: For you, I would fight anyone.

Wen Ning’s chest tightens like a knot of thorns. As much as he wants to accompany Mo Xuanyu, wants to protect him…it will only put Mo Xuanyu in more danger.

“Where will you go?” Wen Ning asks.

“Qinghe. We’re going to find my mother and bring her there. We’ll all be safe with my friend sheltering us. What can the Jin Clan do to get to you in Qinghe? They’d have to admit they’ve kept you here all this time, when you weren’t supposed to be alive. They won’t challenge the Nie Clan.”

“Mo Xuanyu…I…I can’t—"

“Fine!” Mo Xuanyu jumps to his feet, eyes welling with tears. “Fine! Stay here! Er-ge doesn’t care about me, you don’t care about me, no one wants me! I’m used to it by now.”

“That isn’t what I—”

Hands balled into fists, Mo Xuanyu says under his breath, “I’ll find Lao-Xue…I’ll find Lao-Xue, and we’ll make Er-ge pay for abandoning us…”

Wen Ning turns the words over in his mind. The depth of Mo Xuanyu’s pain, the desperation, the recklessness of his anger. It sinks into Wen Ning, snarling the tangle of thorns in his chest.

Would Mo Xuanyu really would be safer on his own?

If Wen Ning could protect Mo Xuanyu, comfort him, keep him from making rash decisions…prevent him from meeting the same fate as…as…

He can’t let anything happen to Mo Xuanyu.

Slowly, Wen Ning rises to his feet, freed from the weight of chains.

“A-Yu…”

Mo Xuanyu freezes, gazing at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“A-Yu, let’s leave together.”

* * *

The sky fades from rich cobalt to fiery red and orange, streaking the sky with color. As night approaches, the light descends and softens, until the land falls into cool, deep darkness. A bright belt of stars twinkles in the endless sky, the moon a shining crescent.

Mo Xuanyu and Wen Ning walk under this sky for many li, finally stopping at the fringe of a forest. Mo Xuanyu sets up a series of protective wards and talismans, then sits beside Wen Ning in silence.

Head bowed, Wen Ning trails lines in the dirt with his finger, only to hurriedly erase them and restart, as if trying to release anxious energy. Wen Ning has always had a melancholy aura, even when he smiles, but since they departed on this journey together, he has seemed unusually nervous.

It must be because he has been locked up for so long, because of Father and Er-ge…

Mo Xuanyu should have freed Wen Ning long ago.

“What’s wrong?” Mo Xuanyu asks, craning his neck to see the lines Wen Ning has scrawled in the dirt.

“I’m just—I—well…”

Mo Xuanyu swallows, a bitter taste in his mouth as he wonders if Wen Ning really hadn’t wanted to come with him. “What is it?”

Wen Ning suddenly turns to face him, his eyes full of concern. “Will your mother feel safe with me around?”

Stunned, Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know what to do except let out a light laugh. “I’ll have to explain a lot to her, but she’ll like you. Don’t worry. If anything, we’ll be safer with you around. We’ll have a place to live together where no one will disturb us. It’ll be…”

Mo Xuanyu trails off. He had never believed he would be able to think about his own life and say, It’ll be nice, but he almost believes it.

As crickets chirp in the forest and the night deepens, Mo Xuanyu and Wen Ning lean back-to-back. Wen Ning’s back is hard and stiff, giving off no warmth, but Mo Xuanyu feels more comfortable than ever huddled up against him. Just the two of them, far away from any clan or village, so far away that they can forget everything else.

Just the two of them, on the way to find A-Niang. On the way to a better life.

Yet Mo Xuanyu finds himself unable to fall asleep, his mind slowly filling with thoughts of resentment for Er-ge and worry for his mother. Phantom sensations of the beatings he has received, the hot tears on his cheeks, the words of venom spat on his face, the ache in his chest, never leaving, tearing him open from the inside…following him on this journey, emerging like monsters from the shadows…

Mo Xuanyu looks up at the stars, studying the constellations. The soft lights calm him.

“Sometimes I wish I could go into the sky,” he says.

Wen Ning gives a low, questioning hum.

Mo Xuanyu curls his fingers into his robes. “Not like flying a sword. Just…throw myself into the sky like it’s an ocean, and all of me will spread from one end of the world to the other, until I dissolve and I’m just nothing.”

“You wouldn’t be nothing. You would be part of all the constellations. Connected to everything, everywhere.”

“Isn’t being everywhere the same as being nowhere?”

“…Maybe.”

An incense time passes before either of them speaks again.

“What exactly are you going to do in Qinghe?” Wen Ning asks.

“Get a job.”

“Doing what?” Wen Ning’s tone holds a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Well…something kind of like what I was doing in Jinlintai.”

Wen Ning shifts against Mo Xuanyu, looking over his shoulder. “Do you already have a job?”

“Yeah.”

“As a demonic cultivator?”

Mo Xuanyu raises his eyebrows. “What else would I do?”

“…So you are practicing demonic cultivation for Nie-zongzhu.”

“Yes. He’s my friend, and he’s helping us. Even if he wasn’t helping us, I’d still never turn down the offer.”

Wen Ning is quiet for a few moments, as if thinking. “What will you be doing for him?”

Mo Xuanyu rests the back of his head on Wen Ning’s shoulder, and a wave of fondness washes over him like warm water.

The stars twinkle down on them, shining forth from the emptiness of the night sky.

Mo Xuanyu’s lips curl into a smile.

“You’ll see.”

 * * *