Words drift effortlessly between Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue.
It feels like they have all day, forever, that time does not exist.
Every year, young masters Lan and Nie venture to the northern deserts to cultivate. The sun rises early and lights their way.
writing the words to wangxian
Time
When A-Yuan turns nine, he becomes an endless fountain of questions. Lan Wangji finds it an intriguing trait, but the sheer volume is bewildering. Such questions are natural to have, Lan Xichen assures him, it’s good to be curious about the world. Still, Lan Wangji feels a bit overwhelmed by this phase of chatty childhood.
At first, the questions were simple.
(Why is ink black? It is made from a black stone.)
Then they grew more complex.
(Where are my parents? They loved you but passed on. There was a war, many people died...)
They grew so complicated that he was at a loss of how to answer.
(Why are we here? … )
Lan Wangji takes each question in great seriousness and composes long papers he then later reads to A-Yuan. We are here because someone wanted us so much that they broke open the wheel of life with their desire and pulled us to this place, this time. It’s hard to say if there’s a reason for anyone to be or do accomplish in their life. Here is an arbitrary concept. We are just here…
He scratches out the beginning and redrafts his thoughts again. The question is simply too lofty. Pages later, he feels satisfied and goes to find A-Yuan. There’s pride in his answer, but also in the boy for asking it. He reads his paper with a steady voice, which feels more like an academic speech than an answer to a nine-year-old’s question. It takes almost an entire incense stick’s time to finish.
When he’s done, he looks to the boy expectantly as if to ask “has this answered it for you?”
A-Yuan yawns and gives him a smile. “Ok. Thanks.”
Lan Wangji can’t help but feel a bit underwhelmed by the response. “Is there nothing else?”
The boy looks at him intently and immediately asks, “What is time?”
Time? Lan Wangji can’t help but sigh, “Maybe you can ask Zewu-jun.” Looking a bit dejected, A-Yuan mumbles and walks away.
Snow in the mountains
In the mountains is Wei Ying’s favorite scenery, a village straight from a painting.
He shares such secrets for Lan Zhan’s birthday.
Revive
:: sequel to Knowing
It takes three springs for Lan Wangji to feel well enough to pick up Bichen again. The way his fingertips trace the hilt’s carved clouds is hesitant, pulled between anxiety and nostalgia. Lan Xichen encourages him but his words barely take root. His brother’s grief is an ever-expanding beast. The tiniest item bears the same burden as any hoarder’s yield.
He’s seen survivors of tragedy be of two kinds: those who do not die and those who come back to life. Lan Xichen is afraid his brother is of the former rather than the latter.
“Wangji, shall we practice sword forms together?”
Lan Wangji drags his fingertips over the scabbard but does no more. Once again, he answers with a head shake.
They walk through the gardens instead, pausing in the pavilion on the lake to dodge the rays of the midday sun. Wangji’s face is pristine as ever, but the way he carries his hands betrays his unease.
“It’s beautiful this time of year, isn’t it?”
“Mn.”
The brothers stand in silence, feeling the warm breeze and watching fish school in lazy circles. It’s not awkward. They’re long used to this type of stop and go. Lan Xichen studies his face and follows his golden gaze. It takes him to a boy on the other side of the zigzag bridge. The boy is lost in an imaginary world, waving and thrusting a stick in his right hand as though it were a forged sword.
“You should teach Sizhui to wield a sword.” It is the perfect way to get him to pick up his own blade again.
Lan Wangji ruminates on the thought before declaring, “He is too young.”
“You weren’t much older yourself...”
Furrowing his brow, he replies, “I would not be a good teacher. Brother would be better.”
Lan Xichen sighs and rolls his eyes. These excuses… “Wangji, he wants so badly to be like you, but he is a child. He knows not how to ask.”
Another silence, but this time, there is something else in Lan Wangji’s eyes. He is lost in his mind, contemplating in circles like unraveling a web. The turn from pupil to teacher, it feels like the marker of an end: that he has seen all there is to see, has met those who would ever be important in his life, has felt the extremes of all there is to feel.
“I...I don’t know how.”
His brother merely smiles and says, “Don’t worry, the sword is itself a language to know the world.”
One cannot be fearful and vigilant and feel their sword; their heart must be open. There are uncompromising strangeness and power in its form. His light eyes point toward the boy and his pretend blade. There’s something unexpected in the child’s untrained movements, a poetry beckoning him to learn its joyful secrets.
Lan Wangji nods and summons his sword.
It’s that time of year again!
This year’s giveaway fandom is MXTX (all 3 novels). Thank you followers for the support this year. Stats for 2019 YTD:
- 86 full color drawings
- 57 sketches
- 6 fandoms
- I don’t even want to know how many hours
To enter, reblog/like this post for chances. Random selected winner will be contacted Dec 1 over DM. You can have anything you want. Any character, any ship, any rating, any AU, whatever your little heart desires.
Knowing
Lan Xichen watches Lan Yuan play from the shaded courtyard corner.
The boy pokes at a bush and laughs in glee when its yellowed leaves fall. It’s been ages since there has been a child in this part of Cloud Recesses. Structures long-dormant breathe into life from his youthful presence. Even the tall parasol trees seem to lean down toward him, branches heavy with gathered longing.
When Lan Yuan notices his gaze, he makes a surprised face and slaps both hands over his forehead in an exaggerated sweep.
“Zewu-jun…” the boy murmurs.
“Why are you covering your ribbon, Sizhui?” He tries his best to sound gentle when he notices a hint of fear in the child’s eyes. Like he is caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“I…can't tie it right,” he stammers, “don’t tell Hanguang-jun.”
“Why not?”
Lan Yuan casts his doe-like eyes down toward his feet. “He already showed me and…I don’t think he likes me.”
Lan Xichen kneels to be more at eye level. He slowly peels tiny hands away and lifts the tangled ribbon from his head. “Of course he likes you. Sizhui is his favorite.”
He was a message waiting to be seen
His answer was ‘it has to be you’
A morning song to remember the joy from days past.
For @chat-noir-chocolat. happy birthday Ely!