[曦澄 | XiCheng]: The Fear Of Falling In Love [~PART 1~]

[179.] Punish me. [I]

NOTE:

I have, quite intentionally, tried to stay away from introducing new characters, and new character names to this very long story, as I really hate this, and as I mentioned in the Introduction too  -  I wanted to focus mainly on Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng.

Probably you have noticed that some characters were left nameless, as the Cloud Recesses's housekeeper, for example; I really hate it when I am reading a really good story, and the author just can't stop introducing new and new names that I cannot possibly remember  -  it oftentimes makes me abandon the story altogether, and this makes me angry. Who knows, maybe I am a fan of postmodernism and minimalism too much.

But here, I decided to play with perspective a little. There are multiple POVs in my writings, as you have undoubtedly noticed. So, let me introduce you to Lu Ya, a young soldier of 18, who can show us a little bit more of the mood at the House right now.

****

Lu Ya frowned. 

He still wanted to believe that all this was some sort of misunderstanding, a mistake.

His commander was kneeling, heavily chained, as if anyone had any illusions that he could possibly escape from the Lan Clan at all, at the feet of the Masters.

The Main Hall was built on two levels – the floor level, where the servants and soldiers were, and the upper level, where the two Masters rested, or dined usually. So, from his perspective, it was always like Master Lan was sitting on a throne of sorts. The upper level was decorated with drapes and veils, strewn with cushions, and Lu Ya remembered that he was extremely astonished to see this extravagance when he first entered the Hall weeks ago.

Zewu-Jun was sitting on a lavish recliner chair, made of warm chestnut wood and adorned with a thin silver lining; his hands  -  on the armrests, his body posture  –   fully relaxed, and his face  –   as dark as a sea gale in summer.

Sandu Shengshou was sitting at his feet on multiple cushions, resting between his legs, leaning back in his lap.

Master Jiang was still wearing the Gusu white, which annoyed him a little; Lu Ya still thought that his Clan Leader should be wearing his own Clan's colors. He had learned from the servants that almost all of Sandu Shengshou's belongings were lost in the fire at the Cloud Recesses months ago, but it was very obvious that his reluctance to respect his lineage was quite intentional, showcased quite on purpose. He looked tired, but also furious   –  his face was flushed and his hands rested on his enormous belly.

He bit his lips; Lin Shou-Yi was going to be executed for sure.

The Masters looked so... synchronized. 

It was as if the same emotion was flowing through them both, shown on both their faces; it was as if they didn't need words in order to communicate, as if they could hear each other's thoughts effortlessly.

He shuddered. Perhaps it was true. They had magic, after all.

Lin Shou-Yi looked extremely pitiful. Apart from the chains, no one had even laid a finger on him, although everybody had expected at least a whipping after hearing what had happened in the Hánshì  the day before.

Lu Ya didn't quite believe this story still; he knew his boss, how reliable he was, how loyal. It was the two of them who usually kept guard in front of the master bedroom  –  they had known each other for years now, even though Lu Ya was just 18; he had been so happy for his commander when he got his promotion to Sandu Shengshou's right-hand man. He fully believed that his boss deserved it without a doubt. Loyal to a fault, he had been too sure that Sandu Shengshou could rely on him for anything.