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It was gleefully ironic that two men, across a sea of differences, could vehemently recall the few acts of kindness that could be obtained from each other, especially when the pains were not supposed to go away anymore. Even if they were only through disintegrated fragments.
Yet in those rare acts of kindness, something born of pure impulse, the sea would suddenly become serene. Something as great as frustration would suddenly become something small as thankfulness.
Of course, some acts were destined to be forgotten; however, as said before, some fragments could be vehemently recalled.
“I am very sorry to disturb you, Young Master Lan.” A childish voice suddenly spoke behind Lan Zhan. He turned around to find himself face to face with Jiang Cheng, who, out of mere respect, had given him a crestfallen bow. Both were barely eight or nine years old. “I'm lost. Can you guide me to the main pavilion?”
Without much thought, Lan Zhan nodded his head at Jiang Cheng's serious and elusive countenance. He turned his body again and when he felt Jiang Cheng following him, they slowly walked down the long path to the pavilion.
While others... With the memory that could encapsulate hours and hours in a minute, the pain even could not escape from clearing out of spite and simply being still.
Although he heard distant footsteps, Jiang Cheng ignored them and tried to stop the tremors in his hands. Much to his hidden surprise, he soon felt his shoulders being covered with a blanket. He looked at the color, and it was white, causing him to worry about potential stains from the dirt and grass, away from the carnage that had taken his parents. He grabbed that blanket, but through his firm grip, he looked up and saw Lan Wangji standing beside him, avoiding watching him. Jiang Cheng wanted to stand up, but Lan Wangji's nod of denial stopped him, continuing to sit among all the wet grass. They both, then, silently watched the clear sky, feeling the cold breeze.
“Be careful of the cold. It's a quiet place”. Lan Wangji spoke, but suddenly turned away, not allowing Jiang Cheng to speak.
Although he felt frustration at such a gesture and at his comment that he could not quite understand, Jiang Cheng watched over his shoulder as Lan Wangji slowly walked away, and he swallowed his breath, trying to make a shy smile despite the immense sadness he felt.
“Thank you”.
Among all the impetuousness of carrying duty and loyalty, sometimes giving a hand at the unexpected moment, was something full of conflicting meanings that in the end one would not know whether to let them die or build them up.
The non-gentle knock at his door had startled him. The room he was staying in at the inn was dark, with the curtains closed. Lan Wangji found it hard to get out of bed because of his back injuries. Although his expression, to the naked eye, was no different from usual, his worn-out exhaustion exaggerated that cold tinge on his face. Pushing himself up, he began to walk slowly and opened the door. In front of him stood a disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang sect, his purple robes trembling with the fear that same young man suffered at the sight of Huanguang-jun.
Waiting for him to speak, Lan Wangji looked at him, trying not to let the pain show on his face.
“My apologies, Huanguang-jun…” stuttered the said disciple, who was carrying some kind of food box in his hands. “Someone has left to your Esteemed something to e... eat... He... He insists that... he must eat... In a... In a couple more hours, he will check whether... whether your Esteemed has eaten…”
Giving polite and brief acknowledgements, Lan Wangji did not want to show his confusion and took the box of food. The disciple took the opportunity to reciprocate the appreciation and ran away. The person left there in that room had a hard time closing the door, and slowly, with the box in hand, he turned and walked to the table. With a gulp of saliva, he was able to sit down and finally check what was in the box. The fragrant smell of one of Yunmeng's typical soups hit him, modified only with herbs and mild vegetables, intended to aid him in the recovery of his wounds.
Even though he knew who had prepared it, he took the spoon that came with the box and began to eat the soup, relieving his little hunger. When he finished, he waited for that person.
The evening grew darker, making the room even gloomier. Without delay, Lan Wangji lit few candles to illuminate the place. And from there, the person he had been waiting for the most had arrived, barely with the door silently opening and closing.
“I'm glad you at least listened to me this time”. He commented with a questioning look, sitting down in front of Lan Wangji with his arms folded.
A pulse of silence passed.
“Thank you…” muttered Lan Wangji, his eyes fixed on the other man.
Jiang Cheng, as if he was embarrassed, looked away and snorted.
“You are welcome”.
Perhaps dealing with that feeling of unexpected gratitude was not, after all, a difficult thing to do. To make it grow or to let it die?
“I only have one question, because I need to understand”.
“What thing?”
“Why, after all...?”
Another pulse of silence.
“...I want you to always be by my side?”
The other was surprised, speechless and feeling that warm nervousness in his stomach, and though his blush went unnoticed, the tiny smile seemed to blossom.
It wasn't something they chose for themselves after thinking about it several times. It just happened, it grew on its own.