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A-Yuan was five, and there were only a few things he knew: that Gusu was his home, that nobody should run or shout in the Cloud Recesses, that his posture should always be straight, and that his uncle Lan's sweet smile faltered sometimes, when he asked too many questions.
That there was something, almost forgotten, hidden in his nightmares.
A-Yuan's recurring vivid nightmares sometimes stayed for a while behind his eyelids, even during the day. They felt like something A-Yuan used to know. He didn't remember anything clearly, not really. It was more about fleeting moments, where he would feel like an old woman with a sweet face was about to wipe his face. Or a man with black threads on his skin, like charcoal, was going to spoon-feed soup to him. Or a stern woman was going to scold him for dirtying his clothes. The echo of a loud laugh, or an angry shout. A black flute and a red ribbon. A smile. GeGe .
“ A-Yuan”, said his uncle Lan with a gentle voice, “please come here and greet Wangji”.
The man he was meeting felt both like a stranger and someone he knew for longer than he knew a-Yi, or even his uncle Lan. He did his best to bow.
“ A-Yuan”, said the man, charged with emotion he didn't know. Nothing else followed. A-Yuan felt a little bit like crying.
“ You should address him as Hanguang-jun. He is your-”
A silent conversation played out between them.
“ He is going to take care of you from now on.”
Days later, the man – Hanguang-jun – brought A-Yuan to a place he didn't know before. To his delight, many white rabbits were running along. He laughed a lot, and touched the rabbits with trembling, caring hands. Suddenly, without knowing why, he felt like a third person was with them, about to laugh with him.
“ GeGe, look! This one is on my lap!”
But when A-Yuan looked up, Hanguang-jun was the only one here, looking taken aback. A-Yuan frowned, confused. For a short second, it felt so real, so strong – like someone else was right here, just now.
“ Hanguang-jun”, he whispered. “Did you see where he'd go?”
Hanguang-jun was very, very still. A-Yuan was feeling so silly, now, confusing something he imagined for something real. The memory of it was quickly fading from his consciousness, and it was clear now that A-Yuan had made a mistake. The silence extended between them.
The next time it happened, he was almost asleep. Hanguang-jun had indulged him for more playtime during the day, and he was now exhausted. When he was put to bed, and a gentle hand was stroking hair, he felt more safe and warm than ever.
“ GeGe”, he whispered. “Play the flute now, GeGe.”
The hand stilled, and slowly pulled away. For long minutes, only silence answered him. He was almost entirely asleep when the sound of the Guqin finally reached his ears.
“ Rich GeGe”, he let out, and he didn't know anymore what he was mumbling. “take care of Xian GeGe, alright? He forgot the turnips at home again.”
He didn’t remember any of it the next day.
They were in Caiyi town. Hanguang-jun was holding his hand. A-Yuan, who wasn't used to leaving Cloud Recesses, was watching closely the activity of a busy town. But after a while, as he was getting overwhelmed, he stopped paying attention to his surroundings, and his imagination began playing those mean tricks on him again.
He extended his other hand, in order to reach-
To reach who?
“ Hanguang-jun... We lost him in the crowd! We lost- where's-”
The hand's grip on him got tighter. Hanguang-jun stopped walking.
Their eyes met, and A-Yuan felt unnamed emotions overcome him.
“ Hanguang-jun”, he repeated. “Where's-”
He didn't know anymore how this question was supposed to end.
Back in the Jingshi, Hanguang-jun pulled A-Yuan for a hug. They stayed like this for a long, long while.
“ A-Yuan”, he said. “I am sorry.”
He didn't know how to respond, or even understand what Hanguang-jun was sorry for. He didn't dare to ask.
A-Yuan was six, and there were only a few things he knew: that Gusu was his home, that nobody should run or shout in the Cloud Recesses, that his posture should always be straight, and that Hanguang-jun's silence was unbearably heavy when he was sad.
That his nightmares were nothing more than nightmares.