Chapter Text
His mother’s words repeated in his mind as he quickly, but quietly, ran across his room – only packing the essentials. Wei Ying paused as he held the only proof of his mother’s existence (other than his own memories) in his hands. The letter, written in a familiar but long forgotten handwriting, was given to him when he turned five – three weeks before his parents’ death.
“A-Ying, should anything happen, should you be separated from us or find yourself in need of help, find Lan Qiren in Cloud Recesses. No matter what’s happened, he will keep you safe. He has sworn to me his home will always be open to you, no matter what.”
After being found by Jiang Fengmian in Yiling when he was ten, Wei Ying had learned very little about his parents from the man. He knew his father was once a servant of Yunmeng Jiang and was spoken of fondly by the Sect Leader – his mother was a different story.
Wei Ying had his mother’s gray eyes – it was the first thing Jiang Fengmian told him. The child often found the sect leader looking at him, it took a while before Wei Ying figured out the man was trying to see his mother’s features in him. Speaking of her was forbidden, especially around Madam Yu.
Wei Ying looked down at his sword, a half full qiankun pouch on his waist. He ran his hand over the engraving of Suibian that rested above the hilt of the blade. He had received the sword a week prior, he barely had any time to acquaint himself with her. Jiang Fengmian had chosen the name, he chose the sword. Typically, the choosing of one’s spiritual sword was a combined effort between a child’s mother and father – or one if both parents were not cultivators.
Holding the blade in his hand filled him with great discomfort. The letter tucked in his robes burned as he looked at the sharp blade.
It was never spoken to him, but the letter in his mother’s hand was enough to understand.
Jiang Fengmian spoke of his parents as if they were best friends, that they knew each other very well, that they had a bond of some sort.
Wei Ying knew differently.
Cangse Sanren told him to seek Lan Qiren, not Jiang Fengmian.
His mother did not trust Wei Ying in the Jiang’s hands – she did not trust Jiang Fengmian.
But she did trust Lan Qiren.
She trusted Lan Qiren’s word that Cloud Recesses would be open and safe for Wei Ying, no matter the reason.
Wei Ying knew little about the Lan sect. He knew of their three thousand rules, all inscribed on a large wall. He knew the Cloud Recesses resided on a mountain and it was quite a beautiful place. He knew of the white sect attire, about the forehead ribbon required to be worn, that different types of ribbons existed that showed your status in the sect.
Three thousand rules felt daunting to Wei Ying. Surely, no sect could thrive with that much restriction. As much as he wanted to cower and hide in a corner, convince himself that he had in fact deserved the five Zidian strikes that criss crossed his bandaged back, he knew that he would die in this sect if that was Madam Yu’s response to such a minor issue – and he suspected likely by her hand for something that would not be his fault.
The Lan Sect.
His mother knew of the rules, of the type of cultivators within those walls. Wei Ying only heard rumors about the type of teacher Lan Qiren was – he was strict, forceful, strived for perfection. He could turn the dullest minds into the brightest brains through rigorous work. She knew of all this, and she still trusted him. He gave his word to her, that his home would welcome Wei Ying.
That was what made Wei Ying step outside his room. Living in this area of Lotus Pier for the past two years made him extremely knowledgeable of the routes of the night guards. Wei Ying had experience getting in and out of his room in the middle of the night without ever being caught.
It was almost too easy.
Wei Ying found himself running as he passed the tree line and into the forest. His chest heaving with every breath as he felt his feet slam into the ground – the thought of “they know you’ve left, they’ll find you” repeating over and over in his mind.
He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t stop. His back stung, almost certain he had ripped open any healing that had taken place – that didn’t matter. If he was caught, five strikes would be nothing compared to what would await him.
It wasn’t until he caught sight of the rising sun that he knew he could stop, at least for just a moment.
Wei Ying collapsed against the base of a tree, his knees scraping along an exposed root as his palms faced the forest floor. His heart raced as he tried calming his frantic breathing, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his spiritual energy flicker – he needed to calm down.
He felt the wetness of his back, unable to discern between blood and sweat. His bandages needed to be changed, but even he knew that a forest was not optimal for wound healing.
After quarter a shichen, Wei Ying was able to calmly rise to his feet. Based off the position of the sun, he knew he had maybe a shichen before Jiang Cheng would storm into his room demanding he wake up for training. The Jiang boy would burst into his room, demanding to know what kind of dream was preventing Wei Ying from joining them for training.
Only to find an empty room. A made bed. All signs that Wei Ying ever lived in that room gone. Wei Ying could imagine what the young Sect Heir’s face would look like in those moments.
Processing to shock to running across the room and throwing the blankets, looking in the closet, then to anger.
Anger that Wei Ying was playing another prank on him. Anger that he had left in the middle of the night. Anger belonging only to his mother’s blood running in his veins. The Jiang would either run to his sister or his mother - and Wei Ying didn’t want to imagine which would be worse.
Shijie would console her angry brother, saying surely Wei Ying had just been teasing the boy, that Jiang Cheng would go back to the training grounds and be met with a hysterically laughing Wei Ying – certain that the boy would never have ran away, despite the fact that she was the one who dressed his wounds the night prior.
Madam Yu…Madam Yu would scoff. She would tell her son good riddance. She would say that when he returned he needs to immediately be sent to kneel in the ancestral hall – that she would meet him there. In her head, she would pray to whoever was listening to never see that child again. Let him meet the same fate as his parents, let him fall into a ravine, let him be devoured by wolves. If and when he returned, because she knew he would, the punishment he would receive would likely immobilize him for months, if not years. A shiver ran down Wei Ying’s entire body just imagining what Madam Yu would do to him if she found him.
Gusu, Wei Ying needed to find his way to Gusu.
He needed to find out where he was right in that moment, but with forest surrounding him he had almost nothing to go off of.
Ultimately deciding his best bet was to continue in the direction he was going in – at least knowing that way was getting further away from Lotus Pier – Wei Ying continued on, hoping to come across anyone who could either help him change his bandages or point him in the direction of Gusu.