The Prodigal Son

IV

"I do not want to fight"

Wei Wuxian's voice echoed along the clashing swords and energies.

Baoshan Sanren gave him a light nod and smiled tenderly, "why don't you want to learn my child?"

"I do not want to hurt anyone..."

Baoshan Sanren gave him a light pat and kissed Wei Wuxian's cheeks. Her hands took his hands and clasp them between hers. Her lips kissed those little knuckles before lifting him in her arms.

The rest of her disciples continued with their training. Baoshan Sanren left with the child in her arms and visited their favorite ancient willow tree. They sat down, animals of all kinds surrounding them in warm fluff. Wei Wuxian lay his chin on his mother's lap waiting to be patted again.

"Why is my child afraid to fight?" She asked.

"Not afraid... Just... I do not want to hurt anyone."

Baoshan Sanren pulled him to stand, "child. there are things you might need to learn...."

"Like?"

"The sword as protection... And sword as destruction..."

For an eight-year-old, Wei Wuxian is very bright for his age.

"How so?"

"The way of the sword is the path chosen by its owner." She unsheathed her sword, and walked forward, she brandished her sword as fast as lightning and powerful, "the sword when used to bad becomes a sword meant to destroy... Without a sound mind, a sound soul, and a clear heart, a sword becomes a weapon that will hurt everything and everyone in its way."

"How about the sword of protection?" The child innocently asked.

"The sword as protection may either be by way of endurance or by way of wisdom.. sword art is not born out of imagination, but practice and judgments. Endurance is the result of long years of mastery to work and to recreate. Wisdom is the result of the experience of life coupled with the accumulation of knowledge. Either way, it is who will choose the path." She spoke softly, "it is when we are protecting our life that one would take arms and fight."

"If I pick the sword? Will I be able to protect you?"

Baoshan Sanren glances at him, and Wei Wuxian flashed her his cheeky grin and smug face.

"You're thousand years early to say to protect me!"

"Haha! Let's bet, mother! Sooner or later! I will be the man to protect you!"

It sure was painful, for her, for the child.

She couldn't stand it—to watch her child growing without his parents. The gap between them seems going wider and wider at every turn of the wheel. She couldn't stand it, she hesitated, she could only watch him from afar no matter how her child called her 'mother.'

She stares at him, a stare that communicates her inconsiderable amount of love for him. To see him step back and remove his touch from her, was more painful than being stuck with thousands of blades.

She remembered him hugging her, kissing her knuckles and cheeks, watching him smile and fill her silent mountain with his laughter.

She missed it.

She misses him.

To want to hold him again in her arms seemed like a distant dream, for she had already disowned and pushed him away.

The smile she had, a happy one, a proud one. To catch a glimpse of her cheeks turning pink became a distant memory. The soft touch of a child's hand playing with her face is not more.