Work Text:
In their first lives, they never meet. One is a nomad, traversing the edges of what will one day be known as the Gobi Desert. The other lives and dies in a settlement by the Yangtze River. Their names and lives disappear to history.
Their second, third, fourth lives remain much the same. Far apart, never to know the other. But with each cycle, they come closer. Deserts to mountains, rivers to plateaus. They find many loves along the way, yet never find satisfaction in lives both short and long. Yet still they go on, returning to the muck and rising anew.
Decades to centuries to millennia, they finally meet. Two cultivation sect heirs. One from the mountains and unforgiving winters, the other from a river basin and unforgiving summers. On the steps to a monk’s cultivation sect, they become acquaintances. Between morning classes and nightly shenanigans, they become friends. As the seasons change and they remain each other’s bastion of understanding and companionship, they grow closer and closer still until inevitable separation begets distress. They return to their mountains and river basin, unsure and unready. As the days away pass by, there is a restless anxiety which progresses to endless desire which progresses to letters upon letters. As ink meets parchment and correspondence changes hands, they know—down to the ache of their bones, to the light in their lungs, to the straying of their thoughts—that they have found the one for them. A soulmate. Their satisfaction.
But then a fire occurs, a fire which destroys more than homes and lands. One of them changes while the other remains the same. Then there is death, endless death, wrought by a loved one until he finally meets his own end. The soulmates drift apart, inevitably, as one closes his doors and builds his walls and lets nobody, save his only nephew, in.
Then music happens. Music so deadly it steals both life and identity. The other changes. He does not think he knows his old self at all. The rest of the world is inclined to agree.
In the end, they return to the mud, unhappy and unsatisfied.
In the next life, they are born to the same family, separated by lines and lines of marriage. Distant cousins who still live in the same sprawling household. They do not fall in love this life. But still they are drawn to each other, sworn to each other’s sides with a friendship that remains unbroken. Their petals close to happy lives.
They know satisfaction again the next time they bloom. This time they are born as women, both tied down to their families and desperate to escape. But they are both children of merchants. When they inevitably meet on the road between their towns, it as though they have known each other their whole lives. They swear mutual loyalty and escape together that night. In their lives as runaways and businesswomen, they fall in love. They know satisfaction. And they would sooner burn the world to the ground than be parted.
In the next life, they meet as arranged spouses. One is a temperamental young woman, the other a calculating young man. This time, the world does burn for their love. Thus becomes the first bump in their cycle.
These bumps are not common, nor do they occur often. But every time they do, the ripples find their way into the couple’s souls. A missed connection, an unexpected outcome, a rebirth that does not match the timing of the other half’s. In time, it erodes at the barrier between life and death until—
“Excuse me, are you Jiang Wanyin?”
The man in question looks up from a particularly messy berthing plan to see a young man standing in his office doorway. He raises an eyebrow. Jiang Wanyin isn’t sure why his secretary let this young man interrupt him. Sure, he’s plenty attractive, unfairly so, but beauty does not allow for an unscheduled appointment. Still, Jiang Wanyin responds, “That’s the name on my plaque,” before taking a much needed sip of coffee.
The young man laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, I know I’m unscheduled. Oh! I’m Nie Huaisang, by the way. Uh, you have no way of knowing me, but—”
“Get to the point,” Jiang Wanyin interrupts.
“Right.” Nie Huaisang sighs and grips his arm. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
Jiang Wanyin eyes his desk phone. Considers calling security. Instead says, “About as much as the next person.”
“That’s good to know,” Nie Huaisang replies. With a small nod to himself, Nie Huaisang opens his backpack and removes a flower. It’s a lotus, in full bloom and perfectly kept in a closed glass vase. Holding the vase close to his chest, Nie Huaisang quickly approaches Jiang Wanyin’s desk. “I know this is a weird thing to ask, but… can you smell this flower for me?”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Jiang Wanyin nearly barks, his hand hovering over the phone receiver. “Look, kid, I don’t have time for whatever weird shit you’re trying to pull on me. Leave now before I have security drag you out.”
“Excuse you!” Nie Huaisang exclaims as he removes the lotus from its vase. “I’m the same age as you!”
“Definitely don’t look like it.”
“Shut up! I have a baby face!” Nie Huaisang shoves the lotus in Jiang Wanyin’s face. “Just sniff the flower!”
Deciding to humor him, Jiang Wanyin does as asked. It smells nice enough, sure, but there’s nothing special. As Jiang Wanyin leans back in his chair, though, something hits him. A bolt of lightening, straight to the brain, stealing all his breath as memories flood him. A thousand different faces. A thousand different voices. A thousand different people. But all the same soul. All the same person as the one standing in front of him now. His soulmate.
Nie Huaisang smiles. “Do you recognize me now?”
“I do!” Jiang Wanyin stands up, towering over Nie Huaisang. Gods, he looks the same as he did when they first truly met. The same freckles, the same hair. But so, so different. Yet still so beautiful, as he always is, as he always has been, as he always will be. Jiang Wanyin touches his love’s cheek, is immeasurably happy to find it warm. “I missed you, my love.”
“I missed you, too, my love,” Nie Huaisang says, a crack in his voice despite the teasing smirk on his lips. “Be careful not to be so mean next time I find you.”
Jiang Wanyin sighs. “I’ll do my best.”
With a shared laugh, they kiss. It’s like knowing eternity. It’s like knowing satisfaction.