The Truth That Lies (WangXian Modern AU)

11

Time has made you the warmest of my fireplaces, the closest that I've interwoven. Suddenly, I can't fathom a second I'd spend bereft them.

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Wei Ying

I remember once I stumbled into Uncle Jiang's study late in the night. It probably had been a few weeks since my parents' death, even less since my adoption, on a night that sleep seemed far away. When Uncle's stern gaze fell on me, dreadfully I realized that I've disturbed him, who was working. Terrified, I kept staring at his face. But with a gentle smile, he asked if I couldn't sleep and told me I could stay with him till I felt like I could.

For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off him. I watched him as he went through papers, put them from one stack to another. What he did seemed so eminent that I felt excited just by looking at it. With a chuckle, Uncle asked, "Do want to help me?"

I nodded, without knowing why I felt so eager.

I knew nothing about business at that time. But later, as I slowly moved on from the grief, I realized that it was because that's something I wanted to be.

Then I remember, as a junior in high school, playing the bad guy and thinking that I was being myself. In those years it occurred to me that a stage and a large crowd in front of me suits me better. I started to take my dream seriously. Worked hard, and actually achieved some level.

Then came the catastrophic senior year. Being surrounded by rumors, I absolutely hated being the center of attention. That year, after having some sort of an awakening, the idea of being the bad guy didn't seem so appealing anymore.

In college, the stage felt good. Everything seemed normal. Then Lan Zhan came along, and that year we were together was, literally and figuratively, a complete bliss. I never thought I'd go down again.

But—yeah, there's a but always—I did. I dived into the depths of hell and learned to live there. Those days I spent in a half daze, hearing but not listening, seeing but noticing, getting recklessly high, then settling to Xanax—I would willingly erase that part of my memory at any offer.

Years later, here I am, fully aware that dreams and the flow of life might as well be enemies. I don't think I've ever cared less about the attention or the opinions that came with it.

Smirking to myself, I push that same study's door open to find Uncle sitting on the armchair by the window, reading a book, just as I can remember from my childhood.

"I was expecting you." he says, closing the book. "I approve."

I laugh. "I expected you to go deeper than that."

"Bold of you to think I won't." he teases back and as usual, I'm at a loss of words.

I shake my head as I flip to the other armchair.

The shelves in this room, once entirely dedicated to Business, now had a collection of travel magazines, some classical novels of the types I might never read (come to think of it, Lan Zhan might like them), some non-fiction on afterlife and scripture. An old acoustic guitar is leaned against the corner of the wall, and a few photo frames of us as kids, of him and Aunt Yu from a recent vacation, and of a few more occasions I can't recall is hung on the wall.

"Broke the bank, huh?" Uncle Jiang comments, with a sly grin on his face.

"You of all people know that that would be the last of my intentions."

He chuckles. "I know, I know, kid." He says. I don't think he'll ever drop the 'kid'. "Let's get straight to the topic, shall we?" He removes his glasses. It's coming. "First, I don't know half of what you've heard from others, but don't be ashamed of your feelings. Love is love."