Chapter Text
He wasn’t supposed to be out of bed. Then again, he had gone against his uncle’s wishes the last time he came to visit her too.
He did not know what caused him to wake up so early. It was much earlier than when he used to wake. The scars on his back were still fresh despite healing over the course of several months. They tore at him as he dragged himself against the stone path.
Stones dug against his nails as he inched forward. Pain was numb. It did not matter. His back screamed. It did not matter. Stone turned to steps of wood. He climbed over them with sore knees.
The surface was hard against his joints, but it did little to deter him from reaching out. His watched his own trembling hand stretch until it landed on the paper panels of her door. A dry cough got stuck in his throat.
He couldn’t do it. Instead, he let his hand fall back to the ground. He maneuvered his body to lay against the door. He tilted his head back. His movements had caught up to him in this moment of rest.
A cough brought up traces of blood which he swallowed back. Cold beads of sweat crawled over his skin, searing into the wounds behind him. His legs splayed out, half-bent and crooked. The pain was scrambled all over to where he could not pinpoint where it hurt most.
When he was here last, it rained. His small body shivered as he was showered in cold drops. But he had waited. Legs tucked, back straight, face clear.
Her garden was weathered by time. Weeds had grown after the years of ambivalent care the landscape received. Tips of his fingers were smudged in dirt and pricked by thorns. Under the moonlight, branches creaked. A log lay overturned, washed up from a faraway storm.
Brother said he regained full consciousness two days ago, but all days were the same. He was awake now, though it was dark out. There would not be much time before the moon sunk behind the mountains and allowed the sun to overtake it, stealing away the last moments of this familiar, hazy, deep blue sky.
By some rhythm within his bones, he could feel the time and day. He knew this day well. She would open the door, the sun would rise, and the gentians would bloom.
He waited outside her door.
Mother, where did you go?
Hints of flowers to come filled him with a sullen anticipation. They carried a heavy burden with them.
He came because, deep down, out of everywhere else within the Cloud Recesses, her quarters were what reminded him most of… of him .
Perhaps that was why he was so unsettled when they first met. The dots had never connected quite so well until now. When it was all too late.
You would have loved him as I do.
His back slouched, scraping against the wooden frames of her door until the lower part hit the cold wooden floor. The pain was its own form of salvation. A distraction that rivaled the constant strain in his heart. It was terrible, he knew that, yet he couldn’t help it.
He forced himself to sit up, the strain tugging at his scars. Lan Zhan folded his legs. Rigid and tucked under his thighs in two parallel lines. The proper protocol for all his life.
A gust of wind blew by that carried stray blue petals through the air. They twirled in circles, looping in a downward spiral. The gentian stems bowed to the force of the gale. They were her favorite.
He closed his eyes.
He heard her laughter through the door. She poked his cheeks, waved his arms around, and sang to him. She knew that he was happy with her. There was no guesswork. The door slid open, and she greeted him with a smile.
My, Lan Zhan! She used to say. You’ve grown!
He’s grown. Bones cracking and reconstructing themselves under the unwavering will of time. He stretched, and pulled, and creaked.
Her door would slide open, and she would smile.
He opened his eyes.
Graying paper, rotted wood, dark blue petals on the ground. The door did not open. Yet he still expected her smile. The smile that reminded him so much of another that he would not see again.
A somberness filled his heart. He did not come here with anything- crawled on his
hands and knees to get here before dawn. The earlier he came, the more time he had to stay.
Stay . Please stay. Don’t go .
There was no point in waiting for a door that would not open.
He looked around. As if at any moment, a noise would materialize and he’d hear the call he’s been yearning for.
Lan Zhan!
At any point in his life, there was only ever one person alive who called him that.
And now, there was no one.
The sun began to rise. Two birds darted past, hiding in the trees. Quiet chirping occupied the silence. The grass was wet with dew. Small droplets began to dissipate under the morning light. Brother would come looking for him soon. It would be best if he was not found here.
He stood, watching the world wake up around him. The light was harsh against his eyes.
He squinted, and felt the weight of his exhaustion. Here, he did not need to hold his head high. His gaze drew itself towards the dark earth. Toward the gentians. Dark blue, like spilled ink stains across the grassy terrain. It was messy. Improper. Ridiculous. It was perfect. And it was more homely than anything he had felt in a long time.
He was cold. The puffs of breath that he could see coming out of his mouth told him as much.
He braced himself against a wooden post. Lightly, as to not disturb the house. He stared at the sea of blue, swaying with a knowing ease as the sun came over them.
He wondered if they knew or cared.
He wondered.
Wei Ying, where did you go?