Work Text:
They had found him at the gates of their sect, when autumn displaced summer and the cold enveloped Mount Hua.
On a straw mat, the baby was only a few months old. Her pink irises, almost reddish, reflected the fall of the plum trees, while her inky black hair swayed in the last sway of the summer breeze. With babbles and sweet smiles, she waved her hands under the tree.
And as the then Sect Leader carried him in his arms, he felt as if the infant was his home, his beloved mountain and the plum blossoms. And, for a moment, the then Sect Leader felt that it was this child's destiny to be there, to grow and blossom on Mount Hua.
As he gazed at the clear sky and the vestiges of summer, he decided to name him Chung Myung.
From then on, the child was under the care of a third-class disciple who, incredibly, instantly bonded with Chung Myung.
Chung Mun loved the child as if they were blood brothers in such a way that he constantly pampered and hugged Chung Myung during the mornings when they lay together, getting ready for the day.
And, perhaps, from that time on, Chung Mun did not want to notice what was happening in front of his eyes. He remained ignorant of how his instinct told him that this puppy was going to be part of the most beloved (coveted) caste in the murim and in the state.
Everything was an indication: the shorter stature compared to boys his age; the milky scent that slowly transitioned to soft plums and the summer coolness; the habits to feel safe, like hiding under blankets, and Chung Myung's fondness for being scented. Perhaps Chung Mun ignored the way his sheets and pillows formed something strange (a nest) at bedtime.
For a few years, Chung Mun remained in denial of the truth in front of him and even then, he refused to let any doctor examined the puppy, hid him from the elders, from his cult brothers: from everyone.
Because as soon as his caste will be confirm (because they already suspected: they already saw him with curiosity, envy and greed, even though he was not even twelve years old), the emperor's men, merchants, the other sects would come and then Chung Myung would be taken away from his home and educated as a young master, in the midst of luxuries.
But, first and foremost, educated to never rebel and always follow others; being the shell of the spirited boy he knows.
And Chung Mun could not see it that way, could not see how the fearless and curious puppy, whom he had raised since he was a baby and for whom he would die, will be empty.
So, for months, starting from winter, he dripped a small drop of essence on every meal. Thus, the day will come when Chung Myung forget his own dynamic.
When autumn came, and the day was clear, Chung Myung ran along the mountain paths and the scent of plum blossoms that had taken root in his soul, in his room, the one that was part of his home, faded away along with the cold winter breeze.
Chung Mun, despite Chung Myung's confusion, despite the stares of the elders, despite the sense of loss that overwhelmed him as well as a devastating guilt, smiled and held that little hand, begging the heavens to forgive his selfish