Chapter Text
Sometimes A-Yuan felt like a water lily that had lost its roots, drifting aimlessly down the lake.
A-Yuan knew he didn’t have a real reason to complain about his life. He was well-fed, well-dressed. The aunties in the creche were good to him. That was more than what an orphan like him could ever hope for.
The other children at the creche were also orphans. The war had hit the Gusu Lan Sect hard, and a handful of Lan children who lost both their parents were raised together, taken care of by a few kind-hearted nannies.
Even so, A-Yuan always knew he was different. The others, at least, knew who their parents were. They had adults that would tell them stories of their parents. They knew their places in the family.
Whenever he asked Auntie Jing about his parents, she always averted her eyes.
“They were friends of the sect,” she would say. “You were brought here after they died.”
She was the only one that ever told him anything. The other aunties didn’t seem to know much at all. From what Auntie Jing said, it sounded like A-Yuan was not technically a part of the Lan family, but then, his full name was Lan Yuan. A-Yuan didn’t know what to make of that.
One day when A-Yuan was five years old, a man came to see him at the creche.
A-Yuan had been waving his net around in the garden, trying to catch butterflies when Aunt Jing called him.
“A-Yuan! A-Yuan! Oh, here you are. I’ve been looking for you all over.” Auntie Jing hurried across the garden, a bit breathless. “Come quickly, someone wants to see—what happened to your clothes!”
She was horrified at the brown streaks on his white tunic and pants. She tried to brush off the dirt but only smudged them more.
“Aiya, A-Yuan!” She exclaimed, exasperated. “Of all the days! Well, no time for you to change now. Come, we have kept him waiting long enough.”
“Who is waiting?” A-Yuan asked, struggling to keep up with her quick strides.
“Hanguang-jun.”
“Who’s that?”
Auntie Jing froze and turned to face him, eyes wide in surprise. She crouched down to look him in the eye.
“I suppose people didn’t mention him much while he was in seclusion. Listen, he is zongzhu ’s younger brother, a very important man. In a bit when you see him, you must be polite and respectful, understand?”
A-Yuan nodded.
“Good boy.” She smoothed his robes and stood again to lead the way.
A-Yuan was intrigued. Besides the aunties, no adult really paid him special attention. Not in the way that they paid attention to his friend Jingyi anyways.
Jingyi’s parents also died in the war, but they were of a branch close to the sect leader’s direct lineage. As Jingyi was a nephew of a sort to him by blood, Zewu-jun did not hesitate when he agreed to Jingyi’s parents’ dying wish—to take the child under his wing.
Everyone expected that when Jingyi was old enough, he would naturally be apprenticed to Zewu-jun, which would make him eligible to inherit the sect leader title. Therefore, Lan sect disciples with any kind of foresight or self-preservation went out of their way to be extra nice to Jingyi.
When A-Yuan finally laid eyes on the man waiting in the sitting room, he was surprised by what he found.
Hanguang-jun didn’t look imposing like what he imagined zongzhu ’s brother would. He was thin and almost frail. There were dark shadows underneath his eyes, which were red around the corners.
Despite his haggard appearance, Hanguang-jun sat dignified. His robes were immaculate. Not a crease or a fold out of place. Not a speck of dust visible. The pristine white cloth practically gleamed.
A-Yuan suddenly felt self-conscious about the state of his own clothes. He fidgeted under the man’s silent gaze, not knowing what to do.
Hanguang-jun finally said gently, “A-Yuan, do you remember me?”
“Eh...no? I’m sorry I…” A-Yuan frowned.
“No worries. It may be for the best. Here, come sit.” He patted the cushion next to him and poured him a cup of tea from the teapot on the table.
A-Yuan thought he saw something glistened in his eyes, but it was gone the next second.
Hanguang-jun ended up asking him a series of very detailed but mundane questions. Who were his friends? What did he like to eat? Did the aunties treat him well? What were his interests? Did he have bad dreams? Was he happy here?
As the afternoon went on, A-Yuan grew more and more comfortable around the man. Except for the questions and the occasional “Mm,” Hanguang-jun was quiet, content simply to hear him speak.
At the end of it, Hanguang-jun nodded in satisfaction and stood. “Good. I shall come again later.”
A-Yuan didn’t know why, but after that, Hanguang-jun came to visit him regularly.
Sometimes they strolled around the gardens. Hanguang-jun even helped him catch a butterfly. Sometimes they went to the back mountain to feed and play with the bunnies. And sometimes Hanguang-jun took him down to Caiyi Town to peruse the streets. Those were A-Yuan’s favorite days. He could ask for any sweets and toys, and Hanguang-jun would buy them for him without hesitation.
Once A-Yuan came down with a cold, Hanguang-jun just sat by his bedside and played songs for him on his qin .
A-Yuan looked forward to these quiet afternoons he spent with Hanguang-jun. The man had regained his strength and no longer looked as careworn. He still didn’t smile much, but A-Yuan could sense the warmth underneath.
These afternoons didn’t go unnoticed in Cloud Recesses. Other people started to change their attitudes towards A-Yuan.
A-Yuan began to catch people throwing glances at him when he walked by. When he and Jingyi went around trying to get shixiong and shijie to play with them, the other disciples no longer acted as if Jingyi was the only young master there.
Once, after he helped deliver a message to disciples in a dormitory, he heard the word “bastard son” drifting from the open window.
It was also around then that A-Yuan realized Hanguang-jun didn’t treat everybody else like he treated Sizhui. He was as cold to the other disciples as they were afraid of him, and many kept a respectful distance whenever he was around.
One day, Sizhui was not paying attention and bumped head-on into a young disciple, scattering the teenager’s armful of books and scrolls. The disciple cursed at Sizhui out of frustration and even threw in some spiteful words about his illegitimacy.
Sizhui sensed a presence approach and turned, causing the disciple to look as well. When the teenager saw that it was Hanguang-jun, the color drained from his face. He staggered back a step then dropped straight down on his knees, head bowed and hands trembling. The one-eighty degree shift in attitude was so abrupt that Sizhui gaped.
“House rules, two-hundred times,” Hanguang-jun said sharply. “And go kneel outside the ancestral hall and wait for me there.”
“Yes, Hanguang-jun.” The teenager whimpered, looking close to tears. He pawed miserably for his things from the ground and scurried, not meeting Hanguang-jun’s eyes.
Even Sizhui looked at Hanguang-jun differently after that.
Children at Cloud Recesses began formal schooling at seven years old. The day A-Yuan turned seven, the aunties put together a small celebration for him. Cloud Recesses was never a place with a lot of festivities, especially the loud kind. But birthdays were still acknowledged.
“This is great!” Jingyi had been chattering nonstop. “It’s so awesome we’ll be starting school together in a few days.”
A-Yuan grinned his friend’s excitement.
“I’m so glad you made the cut-off date. We’d finally get to play with people our age!”
Hanguang-jun summoned him that afternoon.
When the disciple came with the message, Jingyi exclaimed, “Jingshi! Are you sure he said Jingshi? I heard from Zewu-jun that Hanguang-jun never allowed anyone to go in there except for his immediate family.”
“Yes, that’s what he said.” The messenger shrugged and looked between the two of them.
A-Yuan made his way to Jingshi without further delay. He had no more idea than Jingyi about why Hanguang-jun wanted to see him there, but he thought it was best to not make him wait.
When he arrived, the door was already open. Hanguang-jun invited him to sit in the front chamber. Not used to the formality, A-Yuan swallowed uneasily and rubbed his sweaty palms on his robes.
The chamber was well-lit. The bamboo grove outside the window rustled in the wind. Afternoon light spilled through the open window, casting a soft glow over the room and its inhabitants.
Hanguang-jun sat down, facing him directly. “A-Yuan, dear child,” he reached into his sleeves and pulled out a long forehead ribbon, which he held across both of his palms, the ends dangling.
A-Yuan could hear his heart beating.
“I give this to you today. This ribbon symbolizes self-restraint and formally marks you as a member of this sect. You’re a big boy now. You will be expected to respect and uphold our family values.
“From this day on, “Sizhui” will be your zi . Naming you Sizhui has been my wish since the day I brought you here.”
Mouth dry, A-Yuan bowed and accepted the ribbon. It felt hot to the touch. He ran his fingers over the flowing-cloud motif embroidered on it and felt his chest tighten.
He knew he was going to get a ribbon at some point. Everybody wore one. But the cloud pattern, that was the real gift.
Disjointed thoughts tumbled in his head. Drawing a shaky breath, A-Yuan looked up and said the one that he had secretly yearned for the most.
“Are you my father?”
Hanguang-jun stilled, and then said in the gentlest tone Sizhui has heard yet, “no, I am not.”
A-Yuan’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t think Hanguang-jun was lying. But even if he was, not willing to claim his illegitimate son was probably just as bad.
“But I can be, in a way.”
A-Yuan to look up again, hopeful.
“When you’re old enough, I can take you as my apprentice. Would you like that?”
“Yes,” A-Yuan breathed, shakily.
When the rest of Cloud Recesses saw that Sizhui wore a ribbon with the cloud-motif, some grumbled about the impropriety of an outsider wearing the status symbol of the Lan bloodline. Sizhui did his best to ignore these opinions, but sometimes he still felt like an imposter.
On the upside, Sizhui was getting used to the new name and his new life as a student. The sensation of the ribbon on his forehead no longer felt foreign. There were indeed a lot more rules to follow and expectations on how to behave. But for the most part, he didn’t find them too hard to comply with.
He never questioned the future in which he would become Hanguang-jun’s apprentice. All he had to do was wait and grow older. Until the day Lan Wenyan, one of the top students their year, sowed the first seed of doubt in Sizhui’s mind.
A group of them had been lounging about in the Jingxuan Pavilion, catching a break from the unrelenting sun before continuing their basic swordsmanship drills. The conversation veered into their hopes for future apprenticeships.
“I just pray someone picks me.” Lan Hexi said, who had been coming in last in many of the classes.
“Nonsense! Of course someone will pick you. No one gets left behind.” Lan Yuelin said reassuringly. “But if I have a choice, I would wish for it to be Zewu-jun.” He sighed. “Jingyi, you don’t know how lucky you are.”
“Who wouldn’t want to have zongzhu as their master?” Another chimed in, sounding a bit sour.
Someone else asked, “What about Hanguang-jun? Do you think he will take an apprentice?”
“If he does, it must be someone exceptionally talented. Don’t think he would stand for anything short of that!”
“What do you think, Sizhui? You spend the most time with him.”
“I...eh…” Sizhui, surprised to be called, was at a loss about what to say. “He said…he…”
“He said what?” Lan Wenyan asked impatiently.
“He said he would take me as his apprentice when I’m old enough.” Sizhui finished in a small voice.
One could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed.
“Sizhui, who do you think you are?” Lan Wenyan drawled. “Let’s get something straight. Did Hanguang-jun say he would? Or he could?”
Sizhui thought back and realized that Hanguang-jun did not say he would. It was he who just assumed. His uncertainty must have shown on his face because Lan Wenyan smirked satisfyingly.
“Look at you, Sizhui, you’re not a bad student, I give you that. But neither are you exceptional. You’re at best slightly above average. Do you have any idea how many people want to be apprenticed to the sect’s direct line? Even if Hanguang-jun said he would take you on now, do you think he won’t change his mind later when faced with a slew of better candidates?
“I don’t mean to offend, just being realistic.” Lan Wenyan continued patronizingly. “Even if he does pick you, do you think with your qualifications you would actually be a match for him? The esteemed Hanguang-jun, who is perfect in almost every way, paired with a mediocre apprentice? Where do you want him to leave his face? ” Wenyan scoffed.
Sizhui had no defense.
“Keep dreaming, Sizhui.”
The bell tolled, and the students scrambled to get back to the training field. Sizhui, distracted, made mistakes after mistakes. The swordmaster frowned and told him to kneel on the side until he regained his focus.
Sizhui watched the other students train and worried that Lan Wenyan might actually have a good point about his abilities.
Later, Jingyi put an arm around him and said reassuringly, “Don’t mind Lan Wenyan. He’s just jealous. Hanguang-jun will take you. He wouldn’t have invested so much attention on you otherwise.”
“I hope you’re right.”
What Jingyi said makes sense. But despite feeling slightly better, Sizhui could not wholly ignore the unease that blossomed and churned in his stomach.