Moonlit Hearts

Chapter 32: Shattered Reflections

Days had passed since that tense but hopeful morning, yet within the confines of the house, Lan Wangji felt more trapped than ever.

He stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the distant trees swaying in the breeze. It was the closest he could get to the outside world now. Odin's spell held him prisoner within these walls. The once-comforting familiarity of the house had turned into a gilded cage, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on the peace they had momentarily found, his mind kept spiraling back to the hurt he couldn't seem to shake.

This wasn't the first time he had felt the weight of punishment. Years ago, when he had defied his uncle and adopted Sizhui without his approval, the punishment had been severe—thirty-three lashes that scarred both his back and his soul. But it was more than just the physical pain that lingered. It was the memory of Sizhui's wide, fearful eyes watching him, the child's trembling hands trying to help when Wangji could barely move.

 The child was so small, so fragile, born into a world of powerful gods and ancient magic. Wangji had feared that he would fail Sizhui, that he wouldn't be enough to guide him, protect him, and love him as he deserved. He was supposed to be Sizhui's anchor, his father. But how could he be when he himself was adrift, needing anchoring?

Wangji clenched his hands at his sides, fighting the rising tide of frustration that had become his constant companion. The anger simmered just beneath the surface, not just at Wei Ying but at himself. He had told Wei Ying they would move forward, step by step. But how could he, when he couldn't let go of what had happened?

The first time Wei Ying had disappeared, it had been without warning. One moment they were together, sharing a fragile sense of connection, and the next... Wei Ying was simply gone. There were no explanations, no goodbyes—just an empty space where he had once been. The memory still burned, a phantom pain that flared up when he least expected it. Wangji had not seen him leave; he had vanished into thin air, leaving Wangji with an overwhelming sense of abandonment. It was like being cut in two, the silence he was left with more painful than any words.

Then came the second time Wei Ying left. That departure felt like a blow he couldn't recover from. The house, already heavy with the weight of Odin's curse, seemed to close in on him even more without Wei Ying. The emptiness was profound, amplifying every doubt and fear Wangji harbored. He had pushed Wei Ying too hard, trying to help him retrieve memories that perhaps weren't ready to surface. Wangji had hoped to help Wei Ying remember, to bridge the gap between them, but instead, he had driven him away. It was a betrayal, not just of Wangji, but of the family they had tried so hard to build. The anger he felt at Wei Ying for leaving when they needed each other the most, and at himself for causing it, was a constant knot in his chest. How could he ask Wei Ying to stay when he wasn't sure he could move past the fear of losing him again?

The anger Wangji felt toward Odin was fierce, a reflection of the deep frustration and sense of betrayal he felt. It wasn't fair that their lives had been upended by forces beyond their control, that he had been punished so severely for trying to protect his family. He had always prided himself on his control and his ability to remain calm no matter the storm, but now that control was slipping through his fingers like sand. He felt like he was playing a role, pretending to be the steadfast leader when inside, he was crumbling. Every time he looked at Sizhui, the guilt twisted deeper. He had promised his son that they could move on, that their bond was unbreakable. But how could it be when Wangji himself was unraveling?

 A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was—Wei Ying's presence was as familiar as his own breath.

"Wangji?" Wei Ying's voice was careful, as if he could sense the storm brewing just beneath the surface. "Are you... okay? I brought you some tea."

Lan Wangji didn't turn around, his posture stiff, shoulders tense. He stared at the trees in front of him, the teachings of his clan running through his mind in an endless loop. Anger is for the wicked, his uncle had told him. It is poison to the soul. Control it, or it will control you. But today, it felt different—stronger.