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Night falls, and Wei Wuxian is no closer to his goal than he was the night before. The Demon-Slaughtering Cave sighs with the sound of his heavy breath, sings with the echoes of Chenqing’s tune. He kneels at Wen Ning’s side and despairs.When they arrived at the Burial Mounds, he had sworn he would resurrect Wen Ning. He made a promise to Wen Qing, loudly, in sunlight. He breathed it again to Wen Ning, quietly, in cloudless night.It is the quieter promise that drives his desperation.Wen Ning—he refuses to think of him as Wen Ning’s body—stirs on the cold stone floor. The talismans covering him barely restrain his immense power. Wei Wuxian feels that power, tugging at his gut, tickling his ears like a phantom flute.He wants it. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he does.This latest attempt at resurrecting Wen Ning was the hardest yet. He’s doing something wrong, he’s doing everything wrong, and every night he delays, Wen Ning’s spirit falls further and further from human.The cave is quiet. They are the only ones there. It is safe to drop his guard and touch Wen Ning’s cold neck and say, “I’m sorry, friend.”Wen Ning trembles at his touch, and power burns between them. Wei Wuxian rocks back, clutching his hand to his chest. The power sings hot in his fingertips, like he’s held his hand too close to a flame—except no flame has ever called to him like this. Hesitantly, helplessly, he reaches out again.This time, he is prepared for the sting. He touches Wen Ning’s cold temple and closes his eyes against the surge of power, and this time, he doesn’t pull away. He anchors his heart to the earth, and he throws himself into the storm.It’s more than power. It’s hatred, it’s fear, it’s life itself. It’s love. It’s every painful true emotion battering against bone and flesh, and it’s dark, and it’s wreathed with white fire.And as Wei Wuxian takes in Wen Ning’s every painful emotion, he realizes Wen Ning is feeding off his as well: his desperation, his need.Of course, he realizes. He’s been doing this all wrong. He can’t just drag Wen Ning’s spirit back kicking and screaming. He has to show Wen Ning what it feels like to be alive.He has to show him it’s worth coming back.He opens his eyes and carefully takes the talismans off. He doesn’t need them, not while he’s touching Wen Ning, when they’re anchored together. He peels the paper away until Wen Ning lies bare. His skin is so pale between the dark stone floor and Wei Wuxian’s sun-warmed fingers. He looks so frail, despite the strength surging through him. Wei Wuxian removes the last talisman from Wen Nin’s legs and traces back up his body. His fingers skate carefully around the bruises. The shattered ribs. Wen Ning can’t feel pain, yet Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to hurt him. A fleeting thought crosses his mind, how embarrassed and shy Wen Ning would be to be seen and touched like this, were he alive. Wei Wuxian bitterly regrets that he will never see him blush again.He flattens his palm over Wen Ning’s chest, above his cold, still heart, and leans in. He whispers against Wen Ning’s lips, as if his breath could fill his caved-in lungs, “You saved me once.” Something burns his eyes, more painful than the dark power surging through his veins. He only realizes what it is when the teardrops fall onto Wen Ning’s hollow cheek. He whispers, quieter, “I love you. Let me save you.”His eyes still burn, his lungs, his heart, as he presses his lips to Wen Ning’s mouth.Wen Ning no longer trembles with power; he is dry and cold and stiff to Wei Wuxian’s touch. He tastes of acrid dirt. Wei Wuxian shudders, a silent sob, and kisses him harder. Please. Please come back, he silently begs. His plea wraps up with everything else he feels, flooding into Wen Ning as Wen Ning’s helpless rage curls up in him.Wen Ning’s spirit hooks shadow-claws in his veins, dragging him closer, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t resist. He lets him in. He opens his mouth, tongue slipping between cold, clammy lips.Please, he begs, as his heartbeat slows.And then the spirit stops pulling. The dark, dead rage stops creeping through his limbs. Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat races like a downpour of rain, washing away the heavy shadows. He pulls up, panting for breath, to see what—He can’t move far. A withered, cold hand curls gently in his hair and holds him close. Wen Ning’s eyes are open and they dance with candlelight, and his voice is cracked and gently when he asks, “Wei Wuxian, why are you crying?”The relief is too much; Wei Wuxian shudders, and cries harder. He falls to Wen Ning’s side, face hidden against Wen Ning’s motionless chest. “I’m not crying,” he insists anyway. He wonders if Wen Ning can feel the wetness on his chest. “I’m laughing. I’m delighted. I just performed extremely powerful cultivation.”Wen Ning strokes through his hair. “You did,” he says quietly. “I love you, too.”