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The ghost fire flickered. Slow, faded flickering, as if it was dwindling. Indeed, it shouldn't be a thing, due to the soul calming rituals it experienced in its youth, but there is something that cultivators don't know, a secret that allows our humble ghost fire to persist after death: not all ghosts are formed out of resentment.
No, some are formed from love.
"A-Xian?" The ghost fires voice wavered. "A-Cheng?"
But, no one answered it. The words were barely there, whispered into the wind and drowned out by it.
The ghost fire trembled. Where were its brothers? Where was its son? Where, if it was indeed dead, was its husband, who it was sure was waiting for it in the afterlife?
"A-Xuan?" It tries again, when none of the living answer. Perhaps the dead will, it thinks, if it— she —is dead as well. But it's no use. Her husband does not answer either.
Jiang Yanli, ghost fire barely holding onto existence, is completely alone.
I'm so cold. I'm so lonely. But… I want to make sure my family is safe, before I let go.
She heads to burial mounds, in search of her brother. A part of her falters at doing so, urges her to go to Lotus Pier instead, but Yanli knows that as a ghost she will no longer be able to get through.
Besides, what kept her here was worry, was love. She was worried for A-Cheng, yes, and A-Ling, the son she left behind—but neither of them were in as precarious of a position as A-Xian. Her wish, that kept her flickering into existence, her will—it was to see that her family, whom she loved with all her heart, was doing well. She wanted to see if they would be okay without her—that they would be okay without her. With that, she was sure she could move on.
Except—
It's gone. It's ruined. He's not here. He's DEAD DEAD DEAD THEY KILLED HIM THEY KILLED MY BROTHER—
H O W D A R E T H E Y ?
"Have you heard?" The people gossip. They are so enthralled with their bloodshed, they do not notice the ghost fire in the corner—or perhaps she is too weak to be sensed by the common people. The humble wish of seeing her family well, alive, has broken into a million pieces. Instead, the girl now yearns for one thing: the truth. Maybe she will not get it here, but it is better than nothing, in the end.
"The Yilling Patriarch has died!"
"Is it true? How did he die?"
Yes, how did he? How did her beloved A-Xian perish, whose hand was the one to push him down, destroy the home he fought so hard to build? Who killed her brother?
And maybe it's not wise to listen to rumors. Maybe that's part of what got them into this mess, in this first place. Maybe Jiang Yanli is foolish for how her fire flickers as if to lean forward as she clings to each of their words—but this, right here, is all she has.
"They say he was killed by his own Sect brother, Jiang Wanyin!"
And something in her —
B r e a k s .
A-Cheng. A-Cheng. It couldn't be true. You couldn't have killed our beloved brother, could you? You loved him, too, so it couldn't be true. It couldn't be, it couldn't be, it couldn't be—
Could it?
For many years, she drifts, trying to find truth in the rumors, to sort fiction from fact.
It is, at first, simply a rumor that A-Cheng rounds up demonic cultivators, tortures them, then kills them, raving about them being A-Xian the whole time. It is simply rumor, but each time the rumors grow more and more detailed, with names and faces to each offense—and every time Yanli investigates, she is met with mourning people, the subjects of the rumors—the supposed demonic cultivators—missing, or dead. She wonders, truly, how far rumors can go until they're not just "rumors" anymore?
It's a tricky question. After all, are rumors not part of what destroyed A-Xian's life? And she knew him. She knew those rumors were lies, every last one. She knew A-Xian would never do those things, never stray from righteousness.
So then, she wonders, does it say something awful about her that she does not have the same faith in A-Cheng?
She flickers, then flickers again. The rumors are too detailed. They aren't vague, or outlandish like the ones about A-Xian. Everything she's seen supports them.
If A-Cheng can do such awful things to demonic cultivators for just reminding him of A-Xian…
…What did he do to A-Xian himself?
Why would you do this, A-Cheng? This isn't what I wanted. I died to save A-Xian, why would you kill him? My death is pointless, now. You made my death pointless! A-Xian, oh, A-Xian… why isn't A-Xian here? Why am I the one here? But, since I am here, I can't leave until I know the truth.
I need the truth.
"Oh. Hello, little ghost fire."
The truth came in the form of A-Ling.
It surprised her. She didn't recognize him at first, but then she saw his face; angled in a spitting image of his father, with only a little bit of Yanli to soften his edges. She flickered, once more, and A-Ling reached out to cup her in his hands.
"I know I should probably be fighting you, but you're such a small little thing," he said. "So instead, I will ask you, why are you still tied to this earth? Maybe I can grant whatever wish you have…"
"...The truth," Yanli said. "I need the truth."
"The truth about what? Whatever questions you have, I'll do my best to answer them," A-Ling said.
"Does A-Ch- Sect Leader Wanyin really kill demonic cultivators?"
A-Ling looks to the side, squinting his eyes. "You're not a demonic cultivator bent on revenge, are you?"
"No." Yanli answers honestly. "But you do realize, with that question, you answered mine?"
A-Ling's eyes widened, and then he groaned. "Ugh! Idiot!"
"It's okay," she comforts. "That's not all I want to know, though. Did your Jiujiu really kill the Yilling Patriarch?"
A-Ling twitched, then scowled. "Of course he did," he says, misplaced pride. "The Yilling Patriarch was a monster, and Jiujiu helped put him down. Was that all you needed to know? Ah—did Wei Wuxian kill you, and you were looking for closure?"
"Did he tell you that?" Yanli pressed.
"Ah-?"
"Your Jiujiu. Did he tell you he killed him?"
"W-Well, ah - technically, never told me he did, but he never denied the rumors. And I know he and all the other Sects participated in the siege! Wei Wuxian was a cruel, evil person who even killed my own parents, Jiujiu's sister, why would he not want revenge?"
"That's wrong," Yanli can't help but say. "He didn't kill your mother."
"Wh- What ? And how can you know!?"
"I was there."
"That's- you must be lying! Jiujiu was there, too, and he wouldn't lie to me about this! I-I mean…" his voice cracked. "It's my mother, you know?"
"Maybe he doesn't see it as a lie," even to herself, she sounds distant. "But thank you, Young Master Jin. That's all I needed to know."
"Oh, are you going to move on now?" A-Ling asked, curious.
Yanli flickered, then stabilized. More stable than she's been in years. "No," she says softly, and if she were more than a floating fire, she would have smiled that soft smile that she perfected. "I have something to do first."
The Sects… they killed him, didn't they? A-Xian is truly dead.
I never understood it, the way A-Che—the way Jiang Wanyin and A-Xian were desperate for revenge. I understood, somewhat, that it was something that needed to be done—but I had a sliver of something that kept me from needing it so desperately. I think that something might have been "hope". After all, I had my family still; my two brothers. I was more preoccupied with keeping them alive, than getting revenge. Perhaps I knew they would get it for me. But A-Xian is gone, and I don't know who Jiang Wanyin is anymore, because that thing - someone capable of doing what he's done - is not my brother. I'm alone, and no one can get revenge for A-Xian.
No one but me.
Mount Tong’lu was a place of violence, and power. It was not a place of Jiang Yanli's nature, but instead a desperate and dirty place, filled with lost souls who also only desired power.
Because that, undoubtedly, is what Jiang Yanli now desires. Her reasons for wanting so are born out of love, but it's true—she came to this mountain to gain power.
At first, the battles are desperate, and hard fought. She had never been very interested in fighting when she was alive, and as of now, she is a small flame who lacks power. A-Xian always fussed over her, wanting her to learn more, to protect herself, and though she found it annoying in life, she is grateful now. After all, the fact that she was a cultivator in the first place gave her a leg up on the competition; most ghosts were common people, due to the soul calming rituals most cultivators go through.
Soon, though, she absorbs the power from each of her kills—and strength comes with it. Strength, that she gathers to her chest and holds there as if it is precious.
She had always been useless. Useless to her mother, useless to her brothers. Mother always criticized her for it; her frailty, her passivity, her femininity itself. Her brothers always told her she was perfect the way she was. But what good is soup when hostile forces are attacking your home, killing your parents, and you're not even there? What good is kindness when the masses whisper and plot to kill your brother? What good is softness when she cannot even shield them with it? Her brothers loved her softness, but in a real way, kindness is a privilege of those who can afford it. Jiang Yanli is starting to think she couldn't afford it—which is why she needed strength, so she would have kindness to spare.
If she just had power, she could have protected them. That happy family she sees in her dreams. Maybe, instead of pushing A-Xian away, she could have blocked the blade with her own, she could have fought for him. But Jiang Yanli has always been weak.
Not anymore, she vows.
It's so cruel, what I have to do for power. These poor ghosts. But what else can I do? There's nothing… No other options for the power I desire. If I was just strong enough, if I wasn't so weak…
Could I have saved A-Xian?
Could I have saved myself?
Years pass, like that. Just fighting, fighting for strength. The only reprive she gets, a cave of many carvings of someone she does not know, does not recognize—an obsessive, devoted love letter to someone she does not know. There is something comforting about that cave, about the love pouring out from each carving, just as there is something disconcerting about the level of that love. In a cave of a forgotten god, she rests—only to fight all the more viciously when she leaves.
Until, one day, Jiang Yanli emerges from Mount Tong'lu, erupts out of it, and crashes to the ground. Flowers bloom where she lands, and she looks down at her hands and suddenly realizes she is no longer a ghost fire.
She smiles. The same patient, sweet smile she smiled in her youth, and heads to the Unclean Realm.
Nie Huaisang was against the siege—I remember that from the rumors I heard. People laughed, said of course he'd be against fighting, with how weak and cowardly he was, but I don't care about the reasons. He didn't protest it as much as he should have, and that sin is unforgivable… but he didn't participate in it. That's more than others. Even if it was just because he didn't want to fight, I suppose I can spare him…
But Nie Mingjue participated readily, didn't he?
But Nie Mingjue is already dead.
"J-Jiang Yanli!?" Nie Huaisang squeaks, instead, eyes wide and childlike. "You're—You're supposed to be dead!"
Jiang Yanli smiles sweetly. "I am dead," she cooed. "Though, it appears I'm not the only one. I apologize if I'm late, but congratulations on becoming Sect Leader."
"...Why are you here, if you're dead?" Wariness flashed in Nie Huaisang's eyes, and Jiang Yanli's smile widened.
"Well, I came to kill your brother, but I see that's already been done," she says.
"...Kill Da-ge? Why?"
"Because he killed my brother."
Nie Huaisang's face closed off more, "Everyone says it was Jiang Wanyin who killed Wei Wuxian," he says.
"And I'll punish him for that, too," Yanli promises, "But your brother was no doubt also a part of that siege, correct?"
"He was tricked." Nie Huaisang shakes his head. "By the Jins."
"Was he tricked, or did he just hate Wens?" Jiang Yanli challenged.
"....You know, Jiang Yanli, I think we could help each other," Nie Huaisang's eyes were raw with calculation. "There's a lot you don't know about the Jins, and their role in your brother's death… as well as your husbands."
"...A-Xuan?" Jiang Yanli blinked, caught off guard. Her face hardened, a moment later, "Tell me everything."
Nie Huaisang did.
She struck during the conference, hosted, so graciously, this time, in the Unclean Realm.
People denied that it was possible, at first, when she appeared. But Jiang Yanli had mastered her plants, which forced them all in place, held captive by her vines. She told them, all of them, the truth—about Jin Guangyao, about her A-Xian.
"He didn't kill me," she snarled. "He didn't kill A-Xuan."
She told and showed all the evidence she gathered, and then, when it was undeniable, when poor Qin Su was crying in tears, when Nie Huaisang has pretended to faint, when Lan Xichen is pale and trembling, when Jin Ling is staring at her with shock and awe, when they all finally believe her, finally listen —she makes her flowers grow.
Right out of Jin Guangyao chest, tearing apart his lungs.
He screams, clawing at his chest, before they burst out of his ribs, his skin, in a mass of vines and lotus flowers.
"Now," Jiang Yanli says sweetly, "It's time for your punishment, A-Cheng."
I keep wondering it. Going over it, over and over again. That elusive question: why? Why did you betray us, Jiang Wanyin, and why did you do it in my name? Did you think I would have wanted that? You ruined it all. We were supposed to stick together, but you turned your back on A-Xian. Maybe you would say he turned his back first, but… he loved us. He loved us, he never stopped loving us. But now, you snarl at any mention of him. Do you not love him, anymore? Did you ever?
Or perhaps… we are similar in the end, Jiang Wanyin, and just as I never stopped loving you, you never stopped loving A-Xian?
Either way, it's unforgivable.
"I didn't kill him, A-Jie," Jiang Wanyin whispers, as she holds him by the throat.
"...What?" She paused.
"I couldn't. I couldn't kill him. Even after-" he laughs, a bitter, broken sound. "Even after he killed you, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it."
Jiang Yanli dropped Jiang Wanyin as if he burned to touch. "He didn't kill me," she says, dull and distant. "He didn't kill me. I died for him, but he didn't kill me."
"What's the difference?" Jiang Wanyin asks.
Jiang Yanli's form twists, with her anger, her grief, delicate features becoming monstrous. A-Ling, in the background, gasps and trembles.
"A-Xian would have never hurt me on purpose, and you knew that!" She yells, and the ground shakes with her body's tremors. "I choose to die for him! To protect him ! You made that death meaningless ! I died for nothing— AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!"
"I didn't kill him," Jiang Wanyin repeats, swallowing. "I didn't kill him. He was my brother."
The anger evaporates. In its place, Jiang Yanli feels lost. "Then what am I supposed to do?" She whispers. Her form flickers for the first time in years. "No… it's all for nothing… it's all for nothing…!"
"Mother," A-Ling whispers. "I think it's time for you to accept he's gone."
Jiang Yanli's eyes widened.
"You've been fighting so long because you didn't accept it, didn't you?" A-Ling stands. "That's why you got this idea of revenge in your head. You wanted… You wanted to avenge him, because you couldn't let him go, right? All this time… you've been hoping that if you just did enough, did things right this time, that somehow, he would come back for you." A-Ling paused. "But mother, he's not coming. He's gone."
Her form flickered, in and out, as tears flowed down her face. "He's gone," she echoed. "He's gone."
"But I'm not." A-Ling says, forcefully, walking towards her. "Mother, I'm not."
He reached out to her, and Jiang Yanli shook, as he took her cold, wavering hand. "I'm right here, mother. Won't you look at me? Or do you not love your son?"
"A-Ling…" Jiang Yanli echoed, looking up into his face. She softened, "Oh, A-Ling… You're so big, now."
"That's right," A-Ling whispers. "I'm big, now, and you've made me Sect Leader. So… Let's leave, and go home, mother. I'll protect you in Lanling. No one will touch you. Would you like that?"
"But…" she cast a look at Jiang Wanyin, but A-Ling stepped in front of him.
"Leave him, mother," he said sharply. "Don't you think death is too good for him? Leave him to live his miserable, sad life. And live for me."
Jiang Yanli hesitated. "A-Ling…"
"Please, mother," A-Ling's voice wavers. "Please. Choose me."
Suddenly, Jiang Yanli is reminded of her youth; of A-Cheng, begging to know why their parents never choose him. Her heart breaks in her chest; how could she ever make her son doubt her love for him?
Her hands went to grasp his own. This, though she will not understand, is where she differs from Jiang Wanyin. She takes a look at the people she loves, and she decides, like it's as easy as breathing, to disregard her bitterness. Her anguish. She looks outside herself, and sees love. "That sounds lovely, A-Ling," she whispers, as she chooses her son over her anger.
She is nothing like her mother.
A-Ling's face breaks out into a smile, and he turns and leads her away.
(Jiang Wanyin's hand reaches out as if to stop her, but Yanli is no longer paying attention; staring, instead, at her son.)
(Maybe it's better that way.)