Amnesia was a bitch of a thing.
Wei WuXian couldn’t for the life of him remember what not having amnesia was like – that was the whole fucking point of it, right? – but he knew that if amnesia was a person, it would totally be a bitch. The bitchiest of bitches.
There was something, hidden behind the giant (unnecessary) privacy screen in his brain, that told him that he knew at least two women who’d berate him for using such gendered language. One of them was fairly terrifying. He thought she might have had something to do with needles.
And they would have been right to be upset with him for thinking of his condition that way.
He would have paid attention to the women in his imagination getting upset with him if he wasn’t already struggling with the panic-inducing fact that he had amnesia.
Was that a thing he did before? Was he the kind of person who had panic attacks or get anxious over the thought that he might’ve left a candle burning near the bedding and his home was probably burnt to a crisp?
He didn’t know if he was, but he certainly was becoming that person.
What was his home even like? The clothes he wore weren’t anything too fancy. In fact, they appeared to be travelling clothes. Did he have a home, because he looked like a traveller, as far as he could tell.
The people in the village where he’d woken up all appeared to know him. They called him Wei-gongzi and thanked him for ridding them of the yao that had bothered them for weeks.
At least that gave Wei WuXian a start. He knew his name, Wei WuXian, and he knew that he’d taken care of a supernatural problem.
That didn’t clear up whether his ailment was supernatural, or if he’d received an unkind bump to his head that knocked the memories loose and out.
No one at the village could assess him, so he was sent to the nearby city.
Qinghe, they’d called it, and he apparently knew the Sect Leader of the area.
How these people knew so much about him, he had no clue. It probably had something to do with how some of the villagers had looked a little apprehensive around him, despite him having saved them from the yao. At first, Wei WuXian had thought that he could’ve used a little more gratitude for being a supernatural arse-kicker and for losing his memories for them, but the looks he received from many of the citizens in Qinghe made him question that.
He was well-known enough that he was given a pass to head straight to the Unclean Realm to speak with Sect Leader Nie, who was very different to what Wei WuXian expected of a sect leader.
He looked flummoxed by Wei WuXian’s condition, fanning himself with one of the most beautiful fans Wei WuXian had ever seen.
To be honest, though, he wasn’t sure if that was true. How was he to know if he hadn’t seen any better fans? But he felt like it was true, so he didn’t try to tell himself otherwise. It was the most beautiful fan he’d seen.
Once Sect Leader Nie had gotten over the shock of Wei WuXian’s diagnosis, he’d called for a physician. The physician checked him over and confirmed that it was physical, not spiritual, and, given Wei WuXian’s Golden Core, should be healed in a week or two.
That calmed Sect Leader Nie considerably, then he closed down palace business for the rest of the day to spend time with his poor, old, dear friend.
He brought him up to date with all the information Wei WuXian requested – no, he didn’t really have a home, but he had a somewhat home base, where he’d stay for a month or so to refresh before heading out again as a rogue cultivator; yes, he did have family but he was estranged from them, something about a dead sister; no, he wasn’t married, but he might’ve had a kid, though no one was too sure on that one.
He confirmed that a member of the Lan clan was on his way to take him back to his so-called home base in Gusu, but was still two days away.
Wei WuXian spent those two days with Sect Leader Nie, learning all that he could about himself and the world around him. He learnt that the people in Qinghe looked at him the way they did because he had started a war, a war that he had lost and died in, only to have been brought back over a decade later to, and that was where it got complicated, prove that someone else was also responsible for his puppet’s actions and to avenge the death of former Sect Leader Nie, but the current Sect Leader Nie couldn’t tell him who’d organised his return.
Honestly, Wei WuXian got the feeling that it had been Sect Leader Nie, but he couldn’t be so sure because the other man didn’t seem that switched on about such things.
And then the two days were up and Wei WuXian was woken early by an attendant and brought to the main hall to say his farewells when his eyes landed on someone who made his whole body tingle.
He couldn’t, for the life of him (because, remember, amnesia was a bitch, bad, A-Xian!) remember who the man in white was, but he knew he was important. He knew he was someone he’d definitely come back for, someone who made his heart soar and his breath catch in his throat, and all of the horrible feelings he’d felt about his dead sister and estranged brother and possibly-but-not-probably son feel less horrible, because he was there, with Wei WuXian, and alive and smelt incredible and looked even better.
And, really, he didn’t even know the man’s name, but he knew it, he knew it, and so he had to say it out loud.
“I think you might be my soulmate.”
The beautiful man’s face reddened, his eyes widened just that little bit, his kissable lips parted, all before he got his reaction back under control. His face slipped into passivity, and Wei WuXian doubted he could have read it if he didn’t know this man (who he couldn’t possibly know because of the amnesia) so fucking much, but he could see that the man was pleased with his statement.
“I am, Wei Ying.”
And, oh, that wasn’t a bitch of a thing, was it?
prompted by @only-1-a