Work Text:
He ran, down the steps of the Koi Tower, as fast as his legs could carry him, ignoring the warning shouts of his parents, his cousins, rushing past the guards.
He could see the other boy from above, the bastard, his brother, a tiny mottle of brown linen against the pristine white steps, tiny specs of blood staining the path he rolled from. He’s so small. The boy laid there as Jin ZiXuan rushed over. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, and for a moment, Jin ZiXuan was struck by that face, by their similarities.
—This is my brother.
And Jin ZiXuan, at his 15th birthday, dressed in the finest silk men could buy, stood there in the snow and stared at his brother before him. He didn’t know what to say.
“Young Master,” the boy struggled to get up and attempted to courtesy, but fell forward from his injuries. Jin ZiXuan caught him before he hit the ground.
—There’s blood and dirt staining his hands, his robe, mother will be angry.
The boy—his brother—seem to have caught his hesitance, and for a moment his expression twisted in shame.
“Don’t-” Jin ZiXuan blurted, hands still supporting the boy by the arms, “your injuries…”
“There’s no need... for Young Master to be concerned about this one…” the boy struggled with his words, he had his head lowered so Jin ZiXuan could not see his face, his arms shook.
—They’re too skinny.
Jin ZiXuan didn’t let go. He could feel every eyes at Koi Tower gathered on them, and he didn’t know what to do.
—This is the bastard, a proof of your father’s infidelity. A shame upon your family name. An insult to your mother.
—This is your brother.
His grip tightened. Remembering his teachings, he passed some spiritual energy to help mend the injuries. “Come with me, we’re going to treat your injuries. Can you walk?”
The boy didn’t answer. As they stood there, the murmur from above grew louder and louder. Guards approached them, people were closing in.
—What should I do? What should I do?
He heard a soft sob, and felt tear upon his hand. The boy curled into himself, hiding his face with his free hand, throat bobbing up and down, attempting in vain to control his breathing.
“Young Master Jin, come, your parents are calling for your return to the celebration,” a servant finally approached him, setting a hand on his arm. Several more closed in, inching closer and closer to his brother
The shaking of the boy before him intensified, and suddenly everything was too much. Everything was too loud. He could see people pointing their fingers, not at him, at his brother. He needs to… He needs to…
He shrugged the servant off with a swipe of his sleeve, and quickly took off his outer robe and covered it over his brother’s head, hiding his face from view. With force, he wrapped his arms around the robe, no longer pristine gold but stained with his brother’s blood.
“My name is Jin ZiXuan,” he said, voice coming out too high, too loud, “I’m your brother.”
He held the bundle in his arms until the shaking slowed, and the sobbing stopped.
“Meng Yao,” said his brother quietly, “my name is Meng Yao.”