#but i got stuck writing itand this is the only part that's available LMAO

[besanii]

He watches as Wei Ying backs away from him, the horror on his face twisting like a knife in his own heart as he shakes his head and reaches out a hand towards him to halt his steps. But Wei Yingflinches from his touch, the tears flowing thick and fast now, so he stops where he is and allows him to stumble out of his reach.

“Wei Ying,” he says desperately. “Wei Ying, listen to me—”

“Tell me it isn’t true,” Wei Ying begs. His eyes are red, his nose scrunched and face blotchy from struggling to hold back his tears. “Tell me what he says isn’t true, Lan Zhan. Please.”

Lan Wangji glances at the sky. They’re running out of time. They have less than an hour before the solar eclipse ends, and then it will be too late. These last twenty years of careful planning would have been for nothing. He turns back to Wei Ying, struggling to hold himself together, distraught.

“Wei Ying,” he says again. “I can explain. I promise I’ll explain. But right now, we don’t have much time—”

“No, don’t listen to him, Wei-gongzi.” Meng Yao steps out from behind a gap in the rock formations scattered about the gorge, his dark eyes glinting even as he wears an expression of concern on his face. “He’s only trying to get you to drop your guard for long enough to get what he wants. He doesn’t really care about you. He only cares about saving his lover, whose soul he planted inside your body, and the only way to do that is by killing you.”

“Be quiet!” Lan Wangji snarls, but it’s too late. Wei Ying is already regarding him with distrust, with fear…with heartbreak. “Wei Ying, don’t listen to him. Please—”

“Is he telling the truth?” he demands tearfully. When Lan Wangji hesitates, he raises his voice, panicked. “Answer me! Is he telling the truth?”

There is no reasoning with Wei Ying in this state, so Lan Wangji reins in his temper and impatience and takes a deep breath. He glares at Meng Yao where he stands just out of Wei Ying’s line of sight, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“Wei Ying,” he says as calmly as he can manage. “Someone very important to me was grievously hurt and their life in danger—the only way to save him was to send him here, to the mortal realm, to undergo three mortal trials in order to heal his soul so he can return. And you—you are him. I’m trying to save you.”

It almost works. Wei Ying’s features soften into uncertainty for a brief moment, before morphing into disbelief. Into pain. Into betrayal.

“So all this time…I’ve just been a replacement,” he says faintly. “All those times you told me you loved me, all those things you did…was because you took me for him. For your lost lover—”

“No!” Lan Wangji moves forward to take his hands, but Wei Ying shrinks even further away. His arm hangs in the air between them, helpless. “No, Wei Ying, that’s not true. I meant it all. Every word of it.”

“Is that so?” Meng Yao interjects silkily, slipping in behind Wei Ying to murmur in his ear. “Do you know who he is, Wei-gongzi? The man you call Lan Zhan doesn’t even exist. His true identity is Hanguang-jun, the God of War.”

Wei Ying sways dangerously where he stands, but before Lan Wangji can make a move to catch him, he rights himself again, holding a hand to his temple. The other hand is visibly trembling as he uses it to keep Lan Wangji at bay. His face is pale and clammy, a deep frown creasing his brow, damp with sweat.

“Hanguang-jun?” he says, voice strangled. “The God of War?”

He looks to Lan Wangji pleadingly, but Lan Wangji says nothing to refute it. There’s nothing he can say to refute it, even if he had wanted to. Guilt and shame rise in his throat like bile, but they don’t have time. The eclipse is almost over. He clenches his fists, squares his shoulders, and raises his head.

“Begone, demon,” he thunders, voice echoing around the gorge. Both Wei Ying and Meng Yao clap their hands over their ears in pain at the sound. “You will not poison his mind any further!”

Wei Ying has fallen to the ground with a whimper, his head still in his hands; mortal ears are not made to hear the voices of gods, even if the soul inside the body is an immortal one. Lan Wangji wants desperately to go to him, to ease his pain, but he must first rid him of Meng Yao’s influence. Bichen materialises before him, unsheathed and pointed directly at Meng Yao’s chest; the demon laughs, high and mocking, and claps his hands in delight.

“Yes, yes, there it is,” he laughs, “the righteous and mighty Hanguang-jun, here to rid the world of the evil demon! Look carefully, Wei-gongzi—look carefully at your beloved!”

But Wei Ying doesn’t raise his head, doesn’t spare Lan Wangji or Meng Yao a glance. He’s hunched over, kneeling on the cold ground, hands over his ears; he sobs and shakes his head, his lips moving silently over and over. The sight of his distress roots Lan Wangji to the spot, striking him through the heart like a bolt of lightning. Bichen clatters to the floor.

“Wei Ying…Wei Ying, please,” he begs, sinking down to his knees. “Wei Ying, please trust me. You have to trust me.”

Meng Yao laughs again.

“Trust you?” he says. “How can you be trusted, Hanguang-jun? You’ve been lying about your identity to his face for three years! What else have you been lying about? Your relationship? Your feelings?”

His next words are choked on a gasp as Bichen buries itself into his chest. He grins at Lan Wangji and waggles his fingers playfully at the two of them as his physical body begins to disintegrate into wisps of smoke.

“Is he even real, Hanguang-jun?”

Wei Ying goes very still. The last piece of Meng Yao fades, the ghost of a menacing grin accompanied by his chilling, mocking laughter carried through the gorge on the smoky remains of his corporeal body.

Lan Wangji’s heart drops to his stomach. He staggers forward and falls to his knees in front of him, every fibre of his being screaming to take him in his arms and shield him from Meng Yao’s cruel words, but he can’t. Not when Wei Ying continues to shy from his touch. Not even if the flicker of flame in his chest threatens to shatter from the pain.

He clenches his jaw against the pain. The flame spirit is weakening with every passing moment, and once it goes out his body will return to its frozen stasis without his heart. But he can’t do that until the soul inside Wei Ying’s body—until Wei Ying reascends.  He needs to get Wei Ying’s trust, needs Wei Ying to see—they’re running out of time.

“Wei Ying,” he tries again, his hands hovering over his shoulders, aching to touch. “My name is Lan Wangji. I am also Hanguang-jun, the God of War. I do have an older brother—his name is Lan Xichen, but you would know him better as Zewu-zun, the God of Medicine and Healing.

“I made a promise to watch over you, to protect you, but I couldn’t protect you from the people who wanted to destroy you for something that wasn’t your fault—so we devised a plan to send you here to the mortal realm to protect you from them until you were strong enough to return. This is the last trial. After this, it will all be over. They won’t be able to hurt you anymore. You’ll be immortal again—”

“But I won’t be me, will I?” Wei Ying says softly. He lifts his head from his hands, staring down at them like he’s seeing them for the very first time. “I won’t be Wei Ying. Or have I always been just a doppelganger, an empty vessel that only exists to serve its purpose and then discarded? Is my life here even real? My family? My friends?”

“Of course you’re real,” Lan Wangji replies, aghast. “Wei Ying, you’re real. Everything here is real. All of it.”

Wei Ying looks at him then, his eyes haunted by doubt and sorrow.

“Did you ever love me?” he asks. “Not him. Me. Wei Ying. Did you ever love me for me? Or was it because I’m him?”

Wei Ying. Bright, beautiful Wei Ying who had suffered so many hardships in his short life and still smiled with so much joy. Who had taken him in without a second thought when he had thought him in danger, had done his best to nurse him back to health despite his being a perfect stranger. Who had forged a life of his own, and who just wanted to be loved.

If only we could be like this forever, he had thought fondly only last night as he pressed a kiss to Wei Ying’s forehead. Just Wei Ying and Lan Zhan.

The words die on his tongue. The hesitation is answer enough.

Wei Ying laughs, brittle, hard, wounded.

“You must love him a lot, to be willing to do so much for him,” he says bitterly. “He must be an amazing person to be loved by you.”

“Wei Ying…” Lan Wangji starts. He trails off, unsure of what to say. “I—”

Wei Ying shakes his head and holds up a hand to stay his words.

“Don’t say anything.” Lan Wangji closes his mouth immediately. “I have no way of knowing if anything you’ve ever told me about yourself is real. I don’t know if what you’re tell me right now is real. But I know that Wei Ying is real. Everyone I know here: Jiang-shushu, Yu-furen, Jiang Cheng, Shijie. All of them are real. This life is real. Everything inside me tells me it’s real. I know it in my soul.”

He looks up at Lan Wangji then, his eyes brittle and anguished. He’s so beautiful, even now. The shame and guilt of what he’s about to do, the selfishness of his own decisions, wages war with the anxiety inside Lan Wangji. But they don’t have time. It must be obvious, because Wei Ying shakes his head and exhales.

“I don’t know if you love Wei Ying,” he says, his voice cracking. “But I know you love him. And I know I love you. So whatever you need from me that will save him…you can take it. Just take it.”

He reaches out and takes Lan Wangji’s head between his hands, presses their foreheads together and stares deep into his eyes. In them, Lan Wangji sees an infinite amount of sorrow, resignation…and love. Pain lances through his chest at the sight, the flame spirit sitting in place of his heart flaring painfully in response. He gasps around it, tears burning in his eyes.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs into the space between them. “If the whole purpose of my life is to die here today, then that is what I’ll do. But I want you to promise me something.”

He takes a deep breath and traces Lan Wangji’s cheekbone with his thumb, tears spilling down his own.

“When you and your lover reunite, I want you to remember. The person you spent three years with here in the mortal realm, who nursed you back to health and who agreed to marry you—was Wei Ying. Not anyone else. It was Wei Ying. Don’t you dare get us confused.”

He pulls back before Lan Wangji can react, ignoring the aborted noise of protest he makes. He smiles, but it’s lopsided and wobbly at the corners despite the determination in his eyes.

“Do it,” he says, and turns his back on him.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji chokes, his throat constricting. “I—I’m…Wei Ying—”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says softly. “Please. Just do it.”

Above them, the sun is starting to peek out from behind the shadows. The eclipse is almost over. They don’t have much time left—

“Wei Ying,” he says again, tears obscuring his vision until Wei Ying is just a hazy blur before him. He blinks them back and raises his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry—”

Wei Ying bows his head and weeps.

—

Wen Ning looks up at the flash that erupts from the cauldron in the centre of the talisman array. A phoenix burst forth with a shriek, the tips of its fiery wings reaching to the furthest edges of the vast chamber; it circles around twice, drowning the entire place in blazing heat, before slowing down and shedding the flames as it lands.

A tall young man draped in black and red emerges from the fire. He turns to Wen Ning, down on one knee, and regards him with blank, grey eyes.

“Congratulations on your successful ascension,” Wen Ning says, bowing his head. “Wei Wuxian-shangshen.”

Notes:

shangshen (上神) - High God

Based on Love and Destiny (三生三世宸汐缘), where Jiu Chen, the God of War, sends Linxi (a vermilion bird spirit) down into the mortal realm to cleanse her soul of the dark energy that had been imbued into it from when she was a baby, and she returns from it in her true form as a phoenix.