Sorrow In Autumn

Chapter 20 Silk Strings

Someone once said me "Don't wait until you're writing a eulogy to tell someone how special they are to you." I decided in that moment to live by this truth. It's something I have always adored about Shen Wei. It's hard to miss how much he cares for ZYL.

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If anyone cares to hear the zhongruan:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKZmUHe11uI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhAyMm3QCN8

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Silk strings rise to blend with the thunder as it rolls across the sky.

Another storm to be feared as the darkest hours of the night gave rise to a fierce downpour. Cold rain fell in endless tears pouring along the roof to cascade off the tiles and drip from the white leaves of the young trees outside. Icy water swirls in ever growing pools, flowing down the pathways of the Meng Sect stronghold and lightning flashes in the sky.

As the city waits for dawn hoping this too will be a storm without causalities, the sound of the Emperor's zhongruan joins the rumble of thunder and the beat of the rain.

Kunlun had loved the sound of rain. It was the sound of solace, he said once. Everything is more alive after a rainstorm. Sharper, purer. The scent of the wet earth and the faint kiss of lightning in the air, mingling with hope. "Like you Xiao Wei." He had said with that quick grin, those foxfire eyes gleaming.

He had tilted his face up to the sky and Shen Wei had somehow fallen more in love with this precious soul, despite the panic driven anger blazing in his heart. This reckless, gorgeous man who had thrown himself halfway across a battlefield to find Shen Wei. His man who could find joy in things everyone else ignored, the darkness never finding a home in his generous heart.

The war had perhaps made him stronger, made both of them stronger he thought. But, those broad shoulders carried weight that was enough for twelve men, responsibility given to a brazen youth who had proven himself a better leader than all the Elders of the North combined. But he was still Zhao Yunlan.

As unchanging as the mountains and as stubborn as a donkey.

Zhao Yunlan.

The strings resonate perfectly as long fingers strum gently, the melody as beloved as it is sweet. Dark energy threads through the air rippling as it surrounds the bed, weaving around Zhao Yunlan's sleeping body. Light flashes in tiny pulses as power threads thorough Zhao Yunlan's meridians and Shen Wei feels the glorious presence he has so dearly missed.

The more he plays the stronger that presence seems to be. Shen Wei yearns for it. He funnels power carefully, knowing how dangerous dark energy can be, how destructive but Lin Jing believes that it is actually having a healing effect. The Hanga didn't seem to have experience with dark energy, not in its raw form. Their slaves would have gifts but only the ones subtle enough to go unnoticed would have survived.

This ancient array and its effects didn't seem resistant to dark energy, so the more Shen Wei gave of himself, in careful quantities the stronger Kunlun became.

Shen Wei would gladly give all of his life-force if it meant Kunlun could be free, but alone dark energy could only help him, not cure him. So he played all the songs he knew and blended power with love.

This song is the wind through long grass, the scent of magnolia and Zhao Yunlan's vivacious spirit. It is a song of their days together, the days of horses and the morning sky. Nights when a single glance at the one who held his heart was enough to carry him through weeks of hardship.