Ink Lines

Chapter 31 June: Foxfire

The moon rose in the ink black of the sky, not even a breeze to stir the leaves of the trees bordering the lake and the stars glittered like suspended jewels. Following the petals of the lotus that was their symbol, the sect buildings rose above the dark water, a shimmering gentian purple adding its own beauty to the night.

The silence was punctured by the uplifting melody Lan Zhan was playing and the soft tone of his voice as he sings quietly, fingers absently if not flawlessly strumming Wangxian. The song he had written for Wei Ying, a few years and a lifetime ago. A melody perfected over time, like the aging of wine, adjusting notes and chords until each and every part rang with love, with the massive unquenchable fire of all he felt for this one soul.

"Fleeting mountains beyond the clouds,

"White wisps paving a path for my longing,

"While you have gone

"My frozen heart has not melted,"

The quiet of the apartment mocked him, a stark reminder of what life awaited him if he left this haven for good. A life he could not even imagine trying to sustain now that he knew the taste and heat of Wei Ying's mouth, basked in the vitality and brilliance of him. Now that he knew the joy of living with him, the long treasured dream a very real possibility, just balanced on the tips of his fingers like a sword. Now that he knew he had a chance for a lifetime, that all of the love he had held for this precious soul was returned...

It was just too quiet.

A huff of slightly bitter laughter escaped into the night, unheard and lost to the humid air. Solitude and quiet were for meditation and self improvement, sound was the enemy of concentration, vibrancy the enemy of grace and purity. These were the teachings of his sect. In silence there was no escape from yourself, no distraction and therefore no where to run from facing all of yourself. In this, you could not be your own enemy.

Clearly, his ancestors who had thought of and pursued such teachings, had not fallen in love with someone as brilliant, pure and vivacious as Wei Wuxian.

Silence to Lan Zhan these days, was a reminder of loss.

The beginning of summer was stained with blood for them both now, as autumn was infused with memories of fires and the cries of the dying for Lan Zhan alone. Anniversaries of loss and pain, of trauma never spoken about, never allowed into the space. This pain was magnified in silence, in quiet solitude, once a haven, solace in a lonely unforgiving world, now a caustic reminder of pain itself.

Here in this house, in this little world on the banks of a river snaking through the countryside, Lan Zhan found himself in the noise and bustle, found a new solace in the sounds of Wei Ying and Sizhui. These walls were not loud but alive with the joys of living. Not haunted by ghosts made of memories and burnt wood, but by lightning fast feet late for work, tiny boots following behind. Peals of laughter and music throbbing all hours of the day, every genre, random artists. A flute playing to the skies on the rooftop, or played so sweetly to put a precious little boy to sleep. The clatter of chopsticks and the buoyant chatter about all topics, stories told with theatrical voices, singing in the bath tub with bubble crowns and toys, folding paper to make spiritual puppets, ink everywhere and red chile flakes.

The chords and notes of Wei Ying himself as he lived life to the fullest, with his son happy and safe in his arms.

How could he go back to silence?

It had been two days since this...change in their relationship. Forty plus hours of assuming he was a fling, convincing himself that Wei Ying was simply looking for comfort with the anniversary of his family's murder so close. Convincing himself that this brief interlude was all he was going have and somehow he was going to have work out a way to walk out with some piece of his battered heart left unbroken, figure out how to life in Caiyi.