Chapter Text
Wei Ying, such a fitting name for a child who had lost everything.
He was given a house where people had homes and guardians where people had parents. Given food when people had feasts and punishments for things children were playfully chided for.
Yet he never once felt to ask for more. So grateful for the atoms of what others around him received. Wuxian, without envy. Oh such a fitting name.
Wei Ying loved the rivers, Yunmeng was the land of waters after all. The splashing sound reminding him of once being bathed by a man who he called A-die, while a woman sat at the edges laughing at his antics, A-niang never really scolded him with even a little heat behind it.
Wei Ying loved the summer, when he remembers travelling roads finally after being locked in an inn because the lang was covered in a sheet of cold snow. He loved that the snow gave him time to leisurely cuddle his mother's lap or latch to his father's back. But he loved it more when mother was no longer bored from being stuck inside.
Wei Ying loved the lotuses, because his mother told him of the time there was a "home" Surrounded by them. How beautiful the blooms used to be.
When he was left at the inn with a promise of return. He had held onto it like dear life for the weeks that followed his parents' absense. As he layed on a bed no longer warm from his parent's embrace, he no longer felt maybe he did something wrong for them to leave him behind.
When he came to said "home", he didn't remember it the way his mother told him. There were the lotuses and there was laughter and he hoped to see a glimpse of his mother across th corridors. Wondering if it's the same his parents once walked.
"I don't want to talk right now"
He did not wish to speak much to the lady in purple who was supposed to be his mother's friend. How can anyone that cruel be loved by his mother? Was he disrespecting his mother's feelings by hating her? Did he even hate her? He didn't hate her but didn't like her much either. Perhaps, just like he loves Jiang Cheng, his mother had loved his brother's mother.
The younger lady, his Shijie was a beautiful soul. How can someone remain that gentle amongst blade laden tongues and poison filled words, we could never understand. But Uncle Jiang had saved him and given him things he could only dream of. He didn't relate to the feeling of taking, he only ever gave. He just wanted to make his guardians proud.
"Don't know where you are right now "
He wondered as a teenager if his parents saw what he went through throughout his childhood. His thoughts aged beyond his body. Had the souls passed on beyond this realm?
Is that why they never gave a clue of their presence? Is that why nothing stopped people from badmouthing his parents? The intention behind Uncle Jiang helping him? The reason for Madam Yu's ire?
"Did you see me on TV. "
He wondered how his parents would react could they see him right now. He was often praised for his talents, loved for his charms, upheld as an example for his strength and admired for his looks. But words only mean so much from strangers who hardly meant anything to him. He put little value in words of others or so he told himself when a sentence cut too deep.
He wondered what his mother would look like smiling at his achievements, he wondered what his father's silver eyes would look like, shining to see his antics, wondered if at least he'll stand against Madam Yu because Uncle Jiang never did.
He often cried at night, stopping his tears throughout the day at random things that reminded him of his parents was hard on the child. He had once tried to find a glimpse of motherly affection in Madam Yu's eyes, her words, her actions. Thinking it was done out if a good intention or a hard loving mother. It wasn't.
"I'll try not to starve myself just because you're mad at me."
He had starved for food before, and now he would rather starve for food again rather than for love. He lived off the crumbs of them before on the street. But now his Shijie loved him, his brother cared though often overpowered by jealousy for the affection his father gave a homeless child. Yet how can he hold a child accountable for his parent's mistakes.
Did uncle Jiang love him simply for the duty he believed he owed his parents? Was it guilt? For not standing up for him. Madam Yu ran the sect directly or indirectly most if the time anyway. She was a remarkable ruler. But that seat belonged to a leader didn't it?
Alas,When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives. And that he did regardless of the cuts upon his tongue to keep himself quiet.
He felt he deserved it everytime like he owed something. Like the punishments way crueler than any other child was his way of paying it back. Like he wasn't also just a child. He accepted the love he thought he deserved.
His Shijie did feel like home though. She felt like mother, she felt like love, she felt like care. His wounds felt better with her there. He was finally not lonely. His sense of the world came through her. His guardians had showed him exactly what NOT to do.
While his personality was a book written by his parents, the pages were annotated by the handwriting of his adoptive guardians.
His parents had shown him what justice is, his shijie showed him what mercy is.
He was born with a sense of justice so strong he would serve said justice even with harm to himself. For the good of others he would light himself on fire to keep them warm.
When he left his home within the house of Jiang, on the boat to Gusu. He had felt the urge for it to be over soon, so he can return to his home. Shijie would have to live away in the secluded area for female disciples. He wouldn't be able to meet her much. He would miss her even while she lived so close. He wished for it to be over soon.
Oh how he was mistaken to have asked for it... Because with the Wens came the beginning of the end.