The Tears of Thirteen Years

Chapter 8

Bellicose was my English word of the day. Lol. It was not easy to find a use for it! :D

It was never clear in the novel if Wangji actually met/knew about the grandmother, so I decided to frame it as though he believed that 'Yuan' was the name Wei Ying had chosen, making it perfect in his mind.

Did he know?

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The early afternoon sun did little to dispel the chill that settled over Gusu.

Wangji frowned as he knelt before Yuan and noticed the little boy shivering slightly in the unforgiving breeze, that was still touched by winter. The Spring had been late in arriving, the air slowly warming as the trees considered in their eternal wisdom whether to open their resplendent flowers or not.

Many thought that the claws of winter might only retract when summer was almost upon them this year. Just before Spring officially began, the wind had been bitterly cold and the rains had rarely stopped, but then instead of rain and the promise of warmer days, they had experienced the worst fog in over a decade. It hung as a cold blanket over the mountains, enshrouding Gusu in white and every surface was touched by frost.

This continued for three weeks. Moving around the buildings was not difficult or especially dangerous, venturing out beyond the structures however, was potentially lethal. One wrong footed step and you would find yourself falling into a partially frozen pool or slip from a edge to your death.

Wangji didn't mind it. What was a sunny day compared to this white expanse? Wei Ying was still gone from this world, his flute silenced and his voice absent. The dense air felt like a manifestation of his grief. Why should the sky be blue when Wei Ying was not here? It was a thought that struck him on a particularly bad day.

All around Gusu fog catchers had been placed at the foot of every tree and wind chimes were placed at intervals, something that would have amused Wei Ying no end. A passing disciple would agitate the chimes announcing their presence, while others carried small bells to avoid injury along the corridors. Three disciples had been injured in accidents despite the precautions however, so he would rather Yuan stay with him.

He could hear Wei Ying's voice so clearly, "He's so short! Someone might trip on him!"

So for several nights Yuan had remained with him in the Jingshi, with Lan Ai unable to return for him before curfew. He avoided his most recent habits while his son was present, such as strengthening his spiritual energy in questionable ways. This was done well before his brother deemed it sensible to try, considering his injuries and several long hours of meditation. His son did need observing after all, he was a curious child and might leave the Jingshi on a child's whim, putting him directly in the path of danger.

He also only played Inquiry a handful of times rather than for most of the night.

His brother unlike everyone else still visited, the fog never hindering his silent steps but he did not take Yuan back, only sat with them in the early evening. Yuan would often fall asleep around seven every night, a worry at first because Wangji had only ever slept at nine in his memory, but Xichen had pointed out that in all possibility, Wei Ying may have instilled that hour for sleep.

Wei Ying had only slept around one am... sometimes two, waking when the sun was high or when he had been corrupted by resentful energy, sometimes not at all. It seemed... responsible that he would teach Yuan to sleep early, perhaps respecting his needs as a infant. But Wangji couldn't stop thinking of the sweet image of Wei Ying putting him to bed as Wangji did, humming or playing a melody to ease him into dreams. It was a tiny balm for the pain in his heart.