The Tears of Thirteen Years

Chapter 18

Part three of the mini Sizhui story!

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Xichen stepped into the Jingshi, his light footsteps the only sound to disturb the quiet. He had always preferred to listen to the faint sounds of Gusu, the life and quiet vibrancy of his fellow disciples, closer to the main buildings arranged around the courtyard. His own house the Hanshi, now the official residence of the Sect Leader was situated on the other side of Uncle's home, directly on the main pathway for every disciple.

Wangji in contrast, preferred his solitude and the endless quiet so close to the more obscure pools and the forest of the mountain beyond his door.

Lan Zhan said nothing and simply waited, his eyes watching A-Yuan for any change that might indicate when he would wake. His elder brother, a handful of moments after closing the door to the outside world, settled on the floor beside him with only a faint flutter of white robes.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Xichen as he had for years, smoothly fold his legs, roughly one chi from his own knees and nodded to himself.

The two of them sitting together, denying any distance that age or rank might have created between them over the years, was the only normal part of today. For as long as he could remember, his elder brother had chosen to sit beside him always with the same serene solidarity and soul deep brotherly love. To not sit beside him, would wound Xichen. An error he had made at the age of ten, choosing to believe Qiren when he claimed Xichen would prefer the company of older children.

This moment would not seem important to an outsider, to anyone who had not lived the life that they had. When one was trained to be perfect, near expressionless and always serene, you needed to learn the art of subtle gestures to survive.

They had learned together what was permissible in this silent language when they had an audience, be it their Uncle or one of the Elders. Words had never come easily to Wangji and his brother had often tried to shield him when his own voice failed.

It was something Wei Ying had never fully understood, never needing a silent language to communicate with his siblings. Every action or gesture no matter how small could possess layered meanings or stand as a indication or warning.

Both brothers had needed it, relying on those gestures to help them navigate the the difficult years of their education. Xichen could read his little brother as easily as he could lift a tea cup by the age of nine.

In contrast, he had learned from a small child to read Xichen's mood and thoughts from one careful glance as his brother tucked his feet beneath him, or the way he would stand or the way he walked. The small gestures Xichen made with his hands could speak volumes after all. A twist of his left wrist, the smoothing of his robes or a minute flick of a finger, were loud signals to Wangji.

A slight turn of his body as they stood together, indicated that Xichen was about to tell him something important. If he sat down too quickly it meant that Xichen's mood had soured or if the distance between them was greater than usual, his brother was worried about something. As if the distance might prevent Wangji was being affected by whatever haunted his brother's mind.

His brother never turned his back to him, preferring Wangji to leave first, despite of protocol and always turned his head gracefully when he saw Wangji approaching. Not even the rift between them, slowly healing and caused by his undying love for Wei Ying had changed the respect that Xichen held for him.

If Xichen was in a good mood, or amused by something he would sit closer. His posture perfect, his expression schooled to suit the occasion but his hands would be folded in his lap and his eyes would glance at Wangji with that mix of pride and care.