Chapter Text
The night was warm in Chongqing, but no more so than usual – the sky was clear leaving the moon in full view and stars sparkling like diamonds. However, in a dark room that was slightly luminated by the light of the moon, a man in his early twenties continuously twitched in his sleep, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Suddenly he yelled “Lan Zhan” before gasping and shooting up in his bed, eyes darting around the darkness of his room.
“Why are these memories becoming more and more frequent?” the man asked no one in particular as he wiped the sweat off his brow. He turned his attention to the window and stared up at the bright, round moon in the inky night sky, thinking about the dream he had. A dream made up of memories from his past life when he was known as the Wei Wuxian.
In his past life many, many centuries ago, he lost his family at a very young age and was taken in by a respectable and noble clan, the Yunmeng Jiang Clan, and it was from being a part of this clan, he gained the skills and harnessed his talents that led him to be known as a carefree and well respected cultivator despite being so young and mischievous.
He considered the members of the Jiang clan as his own family and loved them dearly. So, when his sworn brother, Jiang Chen, had his Golden Core as well as his life meaning and existence destroyed, Wei Wuxian sacrificed his Golden Core to Jiang Cheng in secret, thus losing the ability the cultivate.
Not long after, he was thrown into the Burial Mounds by Wen Chao, the youngest son of the evil Wen Ruohan, with the assumption he would never be able to escape. This is where he invented Demonic Cultivation and soon inherited the title Yiling Patriarch due to his strong sense of justice which led him to save the innocent members of the Wen clan who were still alive after the majority of the clan was destroyed for its evil ways.
From that point onwards, not only did everyone pin him as the root of all evil, his beloved martial sister, Jiang Yanli, died protecting him, and he loses the respect and trust of his sworn brother.
His dream neared its finish by this point, but it was not all the accusation and hate he received that roused the man from his slumber… it was what happened to another man around the same time this all transpired that had the man drenched in sweat.
Over the years, he was able to see the events of others that transpired during that time. The sensation very much reminds him of when he used Empathy and allowed ghosts to possess his body in order to experience their story, except now he would describe it more as an out of body experience as he felt it more like he was watching a movie. Regardless, one thing remained the same – he was unable to influence the outcome.
He would watch as the man he loved, his soulmate, addressed by many as Lan Wangji or Hanguang Jun out of respect, beautiful with fair skin and inky black hair, dressed head to toe in white robes with a forehead ribbon representing the Gusu Lan clan, fight to the death against thirty-three elders before being dragged back to Cloud Recesses and being whipped thirty-three times with the Discipline Whip as punishment.
His heart ached every time this scene unravelled as he could neither defend nor console his lover, only watch as the man crumbled from the punishment that left him nearly incapacitated. What had him gasping on this very night was when he attempted to stop the man from branding himself with an iron after he found out about Wei Wuxian’s death.
Xiao Zhan dived in front of the iron, but it went straight through him. However, he could still hear the sizzle of his lover’s skin and very much felt the same pain the other man experienced, thus bringing him back to the present.
Falling backwards onto his pillows, he stared at his ceiling and whispered out to his former lover, “Where are you Lan Zhan…?”
°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°
Xiao Zhan walked along the Chongqing Technology and Business University campus, backpack strapped to one shoulder, heading off to choir practice after a day of intensive classes in preparation for the final exams that were rapidly approaching. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking about the tasks he also needed to do for his side job as a photographer and freelance graphic designer.
As he nears the hall for practice and noticed some of his fellow choristers gathered around watching something on a smart phone. Sneaking a peek, it looks like some Korean boy band group, not one he knows so Xiao Zhan was ready to tune out when a particular member of the band appeared on the screen that had his breath catch in his throat.
The young man had bleach blonde hair, full pouty lips, a cool but slightly playful look in his eyes, and as he glided around the stage with his fellow band mates, the aggressive yet smooth and graceful movements reminded him of the lover from his previous life, both in sword art and during their more intimate moments together.
“Lan Zhan…” the name slipped from his lips, which caught the attention of one of the choristers, “Ah! Zhan-ge, you’re here! Come, come, check out this new Chinese Korean boy band group UNIQ! Aren’t they cool?”
Xiao Zhan smiled at the group who were now aware of his presence, nodding in agreement to the question and glancing at the video once more which was coming to an end.
“What’s so great about them anyway? I have better singing talent than they do!” one guy said as the video finished. Another girl laughed and teased, “but you don’t have the looks or dancing talent!” everyone burst into laughter and friendly teasing before the teacher arrived and told everyone to get ready for practice.
‘UNIQ’ Xiao Zhan repeated in his head, making a mental note to check them out in more detail once he got home.
°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°
“Oi Yibo. Wake up, we’re leaving now!” Zhou Yixuan said. He was a member of UNIQ and the one known to take care of his younger band mates, and at that moment, he was trying to rouse the blonde-haired seventeen-year-old awake from his nap.
“We’re about to head out for some food, you coming?” Zhou Yixuan asked as the boy groggily lifted himself up, nodding his head to accept the invitation.
“You’re overdoing it again in the studio and not sleeping enough aren’t you?” although his band mate and friend hit the nail on the head, the blonde teenager shook his head in denial.
“I just want to be sure I’m ready for the next show. We did only debut not long ago.” Yibo pouted, his voice husky from napping. He gathered his stuff into his backpack and threw on the baggy flannel shirt, the two left the dance studio and met up with the other band mates and some of the crew by the front door.
“For such a young one, you worry too much.” The leader of UNIQ, Kim Sungjoo said as he threw his arm around the youngest member of their group, guiding them all to the minivan.
“You were twitching a lot in your sleep earlier, were you practicing even in your dreams?” Li Wenhan said, as he started browsing social media on his phone.
Wang Yibo pursed his lips and shook his head, only vaguely recalling snippets of his strange dream.
His dream was like something out of a Chinese period drama that his mother often watched, where people would fly on swords, use magical talismans, and there were mythical beasts and zombies involved.
In his dream, he was a noble and well-respected man with extreme talent for fighting and playing guqin. He was often wandering cities and villages, fighting demons and spirits, or in a place called the Cloud Recesses reading books and supporting his uncle and brother.
As the dream develops, he would see the back of a man dressed in black, with long flowing hair billowing in the wind as he skipped ahead. He felt a sense of wanting and need to be closer to the man, and wanted to call out to him, but his lips never moved.
“Lan Zhan, we’re almost there!” the man sang as they neared the town entrance. As he started to turn around, Wang Yibo was pulled from his dream, unable to see the face of the man in his dream.
The blonde haired boy watched the streets and cars fly by as their minivan headed towards a local restaurant, pondering about the dream and trying to hold onto the little bits of details as this was not the first time he had this sort of dream.
As far as he could remember, at least once a year, Wang Yibo dreams of himself as the stoic swordsman from this mystical time, and often times, he would see the back of the man in black, but never his face. He could never understand why this happens, nor could he shake the feeling that this person is important. What he does know is, sometimes the dreams go down a very dark path and the man in black is lost to the darkness, leaving him with a feeling of deep loss, loneliness and something else he couldn’t quite place his finger on.
Having had dreams like this from very young has left Wang Yibo deathly afraid of the dark, that he sleeps with the lights on in the hallway or if he can’t do that, he makes sure someone is beside him. That is why, every now and then, even during his trainee days, he would work himself to exhaustion and end up napping in the brightly lit dance studios.
In real life, he never met anyone who remotely resembled the man in black, so he just put it down to his wild imagination and lack of sleep from training too much.