Chapter Text
Chapter 1 : The Aftermath
Jiang Cheng walked slowly down the road, Jin Ling and Fairy at his side. Neither of them spoke, only moved solemnly forward, staring straight into nothing in particular. Even the otherwise enthusiastic dog seemed to have understood the graveness of the situation, and quietly followed behind her master. Both men were sunk deep in their thoughts - thoughts that were different from the other's. The town road soon changed into a narrow dirt path through the woods, and the previously light sky was now an inky black, with a handful of stars scattered about and a lonely half-moon looking down on the earth.
Jiang Cheng suddenly found himself surrounded by his disciples, all shades of purple, looking almost black in the darkness of the forest, and Jin Ling was nowhere to be seen. But surprisingly, the absence of his nephew didn't worry him, as he suddenly remembered why he was there with his little army.
"Sect Leader", one of the younger disciples started, "I can hear a stream nearby. Shall we stop to have a drink?"
Jiang Cheng nodded with a little 'hmm' and they set off towards the sound of rumbling water to quench their thirst. They had been out on a night-hunt for a few hours now, and could definitely do with a drink to soothe their dry throats. The group proceeded to refresh themselves upon reaching the stream. The water was cool and instantly washed away their weariness from the hunt. Just as Jiang Cheng was splashing his face with the cool stream-water, a frantic call startled him -
"Sect Leader! Sect Leader Jiang!" It was one of the female disciples this time, waving her arms urgently to get everyone's attention. "Sect Leader, everyone, please come quick."
All of them hastily walked over to her and looked in the direction she was pointing. There, just a few feet away beside the water, lay a lifeless body covered in what seemed to be rags. At first glance, it could easily be mistaken for a corpse, absolutely still and unmoving. Jiang Cheng slowly walked up to the unconscious person, skeptical - who knew, it could be a trap, a way to attack by luring the target closer. Still, he went nearer, Zidian at the ready, and the disciples waited with bated breath.
No movement, nothing. Jiang Cheng crouched down, still careful, and tried to study the face of the person in the faint moonlight. It seemed to be a young maiden, no more than Seventeen at the most, with sunken cheeks and ashen skin. The torn clothing she wore seemed to be a bit loose on her, and Jiang Cheng had the impression that she'd probably not eaten in the last few days. Her hair looked completely disheveled and matted, and a little wet where it touched the water. Jiang Cheng lightly picked up the girl's hand, thumb at her wrist to check her pulse, while his other hand went up to her face near her nose. The skin was still warm, the pulse faint but steady, and her breathing irregular.
Jiang Cheng opened his eyes to the surrounding darkness. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes, taking a few moments to realize that he was lying in his own bed. He slowly looked around, his mind empty, trying to adjust his sight to the lack of light. He could hear the constant chirping of crickets outside his bedside window, and idly wondered if they ever gave their voices some rest. It was always annoying, to say the least, whenever he woke up like this in the middle of the night for no particular reason. Even more annoying was the fact that he couldn't go back to sleep once he was awake, no matter how hard he tried. All these years, he had spent night after night waking up abruptly, and then tossing and turning and ultimately failing to go back to sleep again.
A soft huff escaped his mouth as he turned over on his side and closed his eyes again. He obviously wasn't going to just get up and start working at such an ungodly hour. So he decided to simply lie still until the sun came up, and let his mind drift off to nothing.
********
The day wasn't harshly sunny, but not cloudy either. It was just bright enough to enjoy oneself without sweating buckets. The sky was lightly splattered with thin pieces of white fluff, and an occasional breeze kept things pleasant. The town roads were filled with the chattering of the young and old, the shopkeepers called out to people passing by with enthusiastic greetings, children ran about with toys in their tiny hands, while travellers crowded the various shops and food-stalls to get a taste of Yunmeng's markets.
Inside the Lotus Pier, however, the loud clang of swords, swish of flying arrows, and hasty footsteps of servants contrasted the gleeful voices of the markets. Jiang Cheng kept his eyes on each and every movements as he supervised the training session of the youngest group of disciples. The older ones were capable enough to train among themselves without much trouble, he reckoned. He went around instructing the little boys and girls, correcting an arm here and a foot there, his tone gentle but firm, secretly happy, and maybe a bit proud too, to see his sect working hard, thriving.
Yes, he was indeed proud of it. Proud of all his disciples. Proud of the way his people were always ready to face a challenge and prove themselves. And why wouldn't he be? He had toiled for years to make the Yunmeng Jiang Sect shine again. He had rebuilt everything from scratch when all was lost. He'd had to revive one of the major and most important sects of the cultivation world by snatching it back from the jaws of extinction. And now, here he was. Here they were. The Yunmeng Jiang. Robes of purple as dark as dusk, and sparks as bright as a flash of lightning in their eyes. Jiang Cheng had every right to feel the happiness and pride at seeing his people swell up in his chest like the tides of Yunmeng's lakes on a full moon night. Even though he didn't show it on his face. Oh no, for the love of God, never. He would take on a punch from a corpse puppet than admit it out loud.
One thing that had changed, or rather improved, from the Lotus Pier of his childhood to the Lotus Pier now, was the increase in the number of female disciples. When he was a child, or even a teenager, the number of girls in the sect, who actively trained, was about one-fifth of the number of boys - though Yunmeng Jiang had never discriminated between male and female disciples. The entire cultivation world knew how strong of a cultivator his mother Yu Ziyuan was, and probably more feared than his father, the previous Sect Leader, Jiang Fengmian. But after rebuilding his sect and his home, Jiang Cheng couldn't help but be surprised at the growing number of young girls walking in through the gates of the Pier and staying for good. Needless to say, he was more than happy to have people at his side - men, women, whatever. Over the years, the number of female disciples had come close to match the number of males, and Jiang Cheng knew in the corner of his heart, that his mother would have been proud.
********
Jiang Cheng nonchalantly read through the letters, getting more and more bored with each one he opened. It was mostly quiet in the cultivation world now. There hadn't been much exciting news or any interesting events in the last two years. People seemed to prefer to lie low after having dealt with a large blow, and Jiang Cheng was immensely grateful for that. He'd had enough of adventures, and was more than happy to take a break. The only thing that happened these days, of any significance, was the smooth flow of trade between the sects. Even the minor sects - which according to him were always hungry for attention - seemed to refrain from causing unnecessary trouble.
But as much as Jiang Cheng appreciated the peace and quiet, he also got bored easily.
Once he finished replying to the letters, he put down his pen and looked out of the window. The sun had already begun to set, and the skies were gradually changing from a soft gold to a shimmery pink. Having nothing else to do for the time being, Jiang Cheng decided to go out into town and take a walk. Some fresh air would do him good. He was used to having dinner late anyway. Without further thought, he picked up Sandu and walked out. Several disciples and servants bowed to him as they passed; he barely gave them a curt nod, too lazy to even acknowledge them properly. Soon enough, he was out of the Pier.
His feet carried him through the market as he looked around at the many shops and food-and-candy stalls brimming with exuberant crowds. People of Yunmeng had a different zeal for life. They never seemed to tire of living everyday to the fullest. After all, that was what the Yunmeng spirit was all about. They had an active night life, and were ready to embrace anybody who wanted to be a part of the celebration - the simple celebration of enjoying every moment of life. Jiang Cheng's mind always eased when he saw his people like this. It gave him a sense of relief, and also achievement, to know that Yunmeng was doing well, his people were doing well. He had been there for them through sun and rain, and he felt content to see the town being alive with high spirits.
Some of the shop-owners and townsfolk bowed as they recognized him, while some were too busy to notice him. Jiang Cheng didn't care either way. He walked with light footsteps to one of the docks of a lake nearby, all the way to the edge, and stared out into the horizon. It had gotten much darker now, the sun being just the last drop of gold where the sky kissed the water. The clouds were painted a deep pink and bright purple, reflecting in the water as if the lake were just a huge mirror. No boats were out, but several were tied at the dock, implying that business along the waterways was done for the day. Jiang Cheng quietly stared out, standing still in the cool evening breeze as it caressed his face, as if to say 'good boy, you've done well'.
'If only I could stop time right here...'
It was quiet. Awfully quiet. Unusually quiet.
Lan Xichen slowly came back to his surroundings and realized that he had been sitting at his desk, staring at his tray of food for who knows how long. His mind had wandered off somewhere randomly, and he hadn't realized before now that there was nothing but silence around him. There were too many voices in his head that rang in his ears. Now that he noticed his food, he remembered that it was Jingyi who had delivered his dinner to him. Had he said something at the time? Did they talk? He couldn't recollect. Lan Xichen mentally reprimanded himself. 'What's wrong with you?! Get a grip on yourself!' He felt foolish.
Taking in a deep breath, he started eating. The food had already gone cold by then, but he didn't really care. As he took in small morsels in his mouth, he seemed to notice the silence a bit strongly. He was in the Gentian House - his mother's residence when she was alive - and had been since the last two years. It was situated a little further away from the main residences of Cloud Recesses, where not many people were allowed to go. He had chosen that place for his seclusion so as to introspect without disturbance. He wanted solitude and quiet, and had only allowed a limited number of his clan people to come see him, that too only for something like delivering food, or if something urgent and unavoidable came up.
His brother and uncle had been taking care of sect matters, so nothing really needed his attention, and he was thankful for that. He would occasionally get curious about Wangji, who was now Chief Cultivator - curious, and a bit concerned, whether his stoic, 'I-don't-want-to-entertain-stupid-people' brother could stand to tolerate said stupid people at meetings, since he had no other choice. But his uncle had reassured that Wangji was doing well, so he was relieved.
The silence was starting to weigh heavy on him now. And it was not the first time. Sometimes he wondered if it was a good idea to come here. It was good enough to meditate, but sometimes he couldn't help but get restless. Whether the trigger was his memories of his mother in this Gentian House (which he cherished with a heavy heart), or the happenings in the recent past that compelled him to isolate himself from the world, he did not know. But in moments of anxiety, when his troubled mind got the better of him, his entire life's worth of meditation seemed useless and incapable of calming him. As he swallowed the last bite of food, he didn't know, again, whether he should be grateful for the silence, or be scared of it.
Would meditation work right now? Would he be able to control himself? The last time he had successfully been able to meditate was... well, it had been days.
He decided to give it a try.
********
They were in the library, working on a piece of curriculum for the new batch of juniors, so Lan Qiren had graciously obliged them with the permission to stay up past curfew. Shizhui calmly moved between the shelves, going through stacks of books on musical cultivation, while Jingyi sat at a table, staring quietly at the open poetry book in front of him.
"... think that would be enough? Jingyi? Jingyi!"
"Huh?" Lan Jingyi started. Shizhui was shaking his shoulder gently, calling his attention to the pile of books he had gathered on the desk. Jingyi realized he'd been spacing out.
"Sorry, I, uh... what were you saying?"
"What happened? Are you okay?" Shizhui asked with genuine concern. "Is something on your mind?"
"Nothing, just..." Jingyi hesitated, closing the book in front of him. He couldn't deny that something was on his mind.
"You can tell me, you know. If it's something I can help you with..." Shizhui patted his shoulder.
"Well... I was thinking about Zewu-jun", said Jingyi in a low voice, almost as if he didn't want anyone to hear him. He looked at Shizhui, who was looking down, expression turning somber at the mention of Zewu-jun. Jingyi gulped before continuing, "It's been two years already, Shizhui. He's still in there. Though he isn't as miserable - initially it was so hard to even look at his face - he seems to have gotten a little better", he said tentatively. "But he's not completely fine yet. He's still struggling. I went to give him dinner this evening and I saw it. I clearly saw it, Shizhui."
Shizhui looked up with sad eyes. Jingyi's face was contorted with emotion, and he didn't know what to say to soothe his friend's heart.
"I know, Jingyi. I've seen it too", he finally said defeatedly. "He's still struggling, still suffering for something that he had no fault in. And we can't even do anything, he chose this... he chose to just shut himself up without even giving anybody the chance to help him. All this time I've only been thinking - how can he really recover if he keeps sitting with a broken heart and a confused mind, far away from everyone, turned away from the world?..."
Shizhui hadn't even noticed when his voice had started to break while speaking, almost whispering; Jingyi beside him had already started shedding tears.
"I'm worried, Shizhui", Jingyi choked out. Nobody really noticed, but he was rather close to the older man. "I'm scared. When will he be alright again? When will he come out? I know he needs his time, and we can do nothing but wait... but how long? I really miss him!"
"Me too, Jingyi... me too." Shizhui sighed and closed his eyes. "I think we should clean up now, we've done enough for today." With final pat on Jingyi's back, he stood up.
********
Xichen opened his eyes with a huff of annoyance. His efforts to meditate were futile, again. His brows furrowed in agitation as he tried to push down the thoughts that had come up to gnaw at him, reminding him once more how unstable his mind was. He had the feeling he could never gain control over himself again, could never regain the composure he was so well-known for. He became easily unsettled and upset, and that only drove him to frustration and hopelessness. He sat still for some time, staring at nothing, thinking what he should do. He wasn't the least bit sleepy, though it was well past the Lan bedtime. He let his eyes wonder idly around the room, trying to find something that would help him pass time.
His gaze finally rested on one of the shelves. There were a few brushes... well, painting brushes... some coloured inkstones, and a few pieces of art paper lying untouched. He remembered with a surprise that Shizhui had brought them to him months ago, suggesting that he could just paint to pass time, after Lan Xichen had casually mentioned that he had nothing much to do apart from meditating and reading the few books that he had with him there. 'Bless the child' thought Xichen, as he got up, took down the supplies, and sat at his desk, ready to paint. Why he hadn't done so before, he had no idea. He felt even more foolish.
He let the paint flow wherever it wanted to, his wrist moving subtly to make the curves of mountains and valleys and rivers, landscapes he loved and flowers he adored. He hadn't painted in a long time, and knew that he needed to get used to it again before he could make something beautiful. But for now he felt like he could be content... glad to have himself engaged in something that would not attack his feeble mind with memories that pierced like daggers and ripped through his senses. At least something could provide the distraction he needed at this moment. At least something could make him feel normal again.
Somewhere in Lanling, a young boy of eighteen couldn't sleep. He kept tossing and turning, adjusting his pillows and blanket, but sleep was determined to evade him for the night. He finally sat up, a scowl on his face, eyes itching for sleep but mind too awake to do so.
He was missing him. He was missing Lotus Pier. There were times he felt more at home there than here at Carp Tower. In the last couple of years, in the aftermath of everything that had passed, he couldn't help but feel unusually uncomfortable in his own residence. Every familiarity seemed alien to him, and he could only think of going back to his uncle - the only blood related uncle he had left - in order to get back some sense of normalcy. Though his uncle had been telling him more than ever to always be present at Carp Tower, to start being responsible for the sect he was going to inherit, his heart longed to be in Yunmeng.
"I'm going over tomorrow", he grumbled to himself, as he lay back down, having no other option but to try to sleep again. "I don't care if he's busy."