Chapter Text
The little boy is confused watching how the dead corpses are devouring his parents. His eyes are glassy, his feet are sunk into the ground, and his mind can't think of any logical explanation why his parents died as victims of the ordinary corpses. The dead are ordinary farmers, the skin covers the skeleton, and the skin is covered with pieces of shirts or, rather, what is left of them.
Stupid, with empty squirrels instead of eyes, creatures that were once humans are now devouring his parents. And what about him? Why is he standing on his two feet next to these monsters, why hasn't he been torn apart yet? The hand holding the talisman thrown by the mother at the last moment of her life, trembles. His whole body trembles, his lungs are burning, his throat hurts and no sound comes out. What should the child do now? Someone, save me.
The sky thunders, lightning illuminates a five-year-old boy who's standing in the middle of a bloody mess left of his family. The rain cools the earth and takes away the child's bitter tears.
His ears are ringing, but he can still clearly hear the crunch of broken bones in the mouths of the dead, the death rattle and the gurgling of blood from his father. He can see how his mother's eyes roll and how her last breath leaves her body. All around is smelling like pine needles and there was a thick smell of blood along with the stench of the corpses. The boy was surrounded by hollows of tall pines.
"Wei Ying, don't cry in vain - шt is no use crying over spilt milk. And if we ever leave you, it won't make sense to cry anymore, you'll have to survive, can you hear me? Survive and cherish your life as if grief never touched you, as if you were always alone in this world. You are the son of Сangse-sanren, whatever it is, you, Wei Ying, must bring justice and happiness. Help the weak, love, don't show your weaknesses to others, protect your loved ones, ”that's what she said when he injured his hand the day before the tragedy.
His mother, Cangse-sanren, probably felt that she and her husband would die soon. The father, who was watching them, just shook his head and hugged his beloved wife, saying "don't get any ideas into child's head."
Was it fair to demand such a thing from a small child? Did she have the right to impose such a burden on him? Did she think about how it would affect the child and could he understand her words at all? The mother's instructions became a trap for Wei Ying over the years, but the boy will never be able to understand.
***
It was raining again in the streets of damned Yilin, just like that day. Not a day went by that the curled-up figure sitting in the alley did not remember it. The rag in which the child was wrapped did not warm him at all, the wounds he received the other day from the evil dogs are hurting, perhaps? they were even infected, in the end dirt and hunger did not help him in survival. The feeling of emptiness and desperate desire to survive at the same time pushed the boy to do things that ordinary children thought were wrong and disgusting. But if you eat a rotten cabbage, you will be able to live at least another day, not those who do not care about it, to condemn it.
People are evil, his parents did not warn him about it. Little A-Yin did not know that adults would be so cruel to him when he was no longer the child of traveling but strong cultivators. The smile on his face will no longer cause emotions on the faces of the servants from the inn, the same people to whom his parents paid with silver bars will turn away and even the name of the, as they said "wonderful baby" will not be remembered. Even the granny who lives below the street, who was once helped by his parents, will not let him warm up by the fire, will not give a crumb, she will look in has face and say that she has never met with cultivators.
How much time has passed since that day? Once neatly combed and ponytailed by his morher hair was now crumpled and greew almost to small, bony thighs. Wei Ying knows for sure that he turned nine the other day, and he remembered that his birthday was celebrated in mid-autumn, when the leaves on the trees turned yellow and the cold rainy season began. He was able to steal a few steamed buns from a local vendor that day, but the dogs were as hungry as he was, and the hungry dogs were evil dogs. A-Yin didn't remembered much, only the fear and cries for help that he uttered when the dogs were bitting his legs and arms, trying to take away delicious buns. And he remembered seeing him in the same alley, the seller of these buns, who silently turned away from the wounded child and left, grinning evilly.
Silver eyes stared at the wall of the house, and Wei Ying kept thinking about how the happy family was having dinner behind the wall, the children were laughing, and the logs, engulfed in flames, were cracking little by little, heating the room.
Suddenly, the figure of a man rose above him, he raised his head in fear and looked questioningly at the one standing above him. The man was dressed nicely, his hair was fixed with an expensive hairpin, a skillfully made sword hung on his belt, the man's hanfu was made of quality fabric. Why would such a person approach him, a street rat? He clearly smelled bad: after spending so many days in the alleys full of dirt and sewage without the opportunity to take a bath, he definitely looked awful. The worst thing was that he was a child. The man's eyes shone with a pleasant purple color, just like his hanfu. For a second, Wei Ying thought he had seen this man before.
"Wei Ying?" The man asked, kneeling in front of Wei Wuxian.
"So I really did meet him before," A-Yin thought.
"Yeah," the child said with a small voice.
The man sighed heavily, but it didn't really bring him any joy. Looking at the child of his dear friends, something stuck in his throat: he wanted to fall to his knees and apologize for searching for him so long, for not being able to save him before and protect the child from living on the street.
"I'm Jiang Fengmian, a friend of your parents. I'll take youto my home, A-Yin, ”the man said, and it seemed to Wuxian that perhaps now he could keep on with his mother's ceasing and bring happiness.
***
He can't. He will not be able to bring happiness to this noble family, the main family of the Jiang clan.
The boy had never known true hatred until his first day in this place, the bright, vibrant Lotus Pier. Unlike the gloomy Yilin, Yunmen was full of colors, and hawkers called in from everywhere. It was already late in the evening, and at that time only the barking and howling of Wei Ying's hated dogs and the night breeze could be heard in Yilin. Lotus blossomed around the Pier, their sweet aroma settled in his lungs, Jiang Fenmiang's hanfu smelled like lotuses, now A-Ying understood that. The gazebos above the water were decorated with lotus carvings and purple gas curtains, neatly assembled on both sides. A woman was sitting in one of these gazebos, her hair gathered in a difficult hairstyle, the rich purple hanfu that she was wearing was fluttering in the wind.
As they approached the gazebo, the boy's eyes met the woman's. It was then that Wei Ying saw human rage for the first time in his life.
***
She hated him, Yu Ziyuan, hated him so fiercely. She tore his soul with words and his body with punishments. He wanted to shout. The older he got, the louder he wanted to scream, to break his voice, to shout about his mutual hatred for this damned woman. He wanted to get a sword, open her chest and crush her black heart.
Instead of screaming, only a wheeze escaped his chest after his back was beaten again with a whip. This hated whip, a family weapon, Zidian. Each blow spreads lightning throughout the body, he wants to crawl out from under the blow, crowl into the corner and cry, cry, cry. Why? For what did he get it? Why is everyone turning a blind eye to this?
"Because they hate you too," the woman's voice says in a nasty whisper in his head.
Her voice crept into his mind, sat there and whispered, whispered, whispered.
Adepts with whom he studies are the hypocrites who beat him when he was a child and smiled when they saw him with Jiang Cheng. Servants who did not understand why the son of a servant lives along with the children of the clan leader. Jiang Cheng, raised by Yu Ziyuan, growing up to be his mother. Was it worth exchanging life on the streets for life in this aquarium with piranhas? Maybe it would be better to die then?
It was sad to see Yu Ziyuan poison the boy with Jiang Fengmiang's tacit consent. It was also unfortunate that Jiang Fengyang tried to hide his inaction behind a soft relationship. No surprise that by the age of fifteen, Wei Wuxian was dying every day, reading ancient folios in the wrong candlelight and begging for it all to end. How much longer will this family destroy him?
***
"Wei, fucking, Wuxian!" Where are you? Mother said to be on time!" Shouts an enraged Jiang Cheng on the doorstep of Wei Wuxian's room.
The young man's room is filled with jugs of wine, and on the bed lies a young man whose back is tightly tied under the hanfu. On the nightstand there is a pot of healing ointment, the room smells of alcohol and medicinal herbs. The sun peered lazily out the window, and a cascade of black strands fell from the edge of the bed. The young man's face was sick, gray-green color. Opening his eyes, he turned his head toward the door and snorted.
"Come out of my room, please, I'll be there in ten minutes."
Jiang's heir, standing in the doorway, just shook his head, blaming his brother's hangover, and left.
Wei Wuxian sighed heavily. His back was covered with red, deep scars from the whip, and bloody bandages were visible on his wrists and thighs: the pain gripped his body as if Wei Wuxian were burning. He had to hurry up, Jiang Cheng puffed at the door and periodically shouted words of hatred. The bandages were replaced, the sword blade lying under the bed was cleaned, but the pale face could not be hidden. He may be able to redirect the flow of qi in his system to give his face a more vibrant look. After removing the empty jugs, the guy went out into the fresh air.
As they approached the main hall, they could hear Jiang Cheng's parents arguing. Yu Ziyuan shouted at the head of the sect again, and he tried to persuade her to shut up in return.
"Where is this Wei Wuxian again? How much longer should we wait for him? Why does he has to have breakfast with us at all? He is a servant, and we are the nobles!" the woman shouted.
"Ziyuan, shut up, he is the same child of mine as A-Li and A-Cheng are."
"Ah, ofcourse, your son! How could I forget? Will you throw it in my face for all of your life that you have another son?"
"What do you say? Stop dirtying the memory of Cangse and Changze! They were also your friends, why can't you accept their child?"
"Why the hell is the child of a friends is in the first place in your life, and your own children - only the second? Cangse-sanren has been dead for many years, and her son is just like she was, that's why you babysit him like that - because you loved her!
"Yu Ziyuan!" the man screamed.
"Jiang Fengmian, are you saying I'm wrong?" she hisses. The woman turns her head and noticing her son and Wei Wuxian on the doorstep, she huffs and leaves the hall in rage, pushing Wei Ying's shoulder.
"Greetings to the Jiang Sect Leader," the boy bows.
"Oh, A-Xian, A-Cheng, come on in, don't pay attention."
To Jiang Fengmian's right, Jiang Yanli sat silently all this time. Oh, sure, Yanli, the one who knew him better than the others, the one who helped him not to go crazy in this place. This girl is like a quiet harbor where you can stop your boat and relax. Quiet, gentle, kind, sincere, not so good at cultivation, not the first beauty, but dear to the soul and heart. His only family, sister and friend. The girl hides her eyes: she is ashamed that her brothers are being a victims of parental arguing and hatred.
Breakfast is held in silence, and after finishing all the children are dismissed. It's really spring like weather outside, the sun is warming, the birds are chirping and whispers behind Wei Ying are almost merging with them. The boy walks to the training ground and notices Madame Yu out of the corner of his eye. Today's trainig promise to be terrible not only for the first disciple of the sect.
Wei Wuxian smiles and tries not to be distracted by the sharp pain spreading through his body. How tiring is it. The lady sneers at him again, the disciples are laughing again, Jiang Cheng hisses and insults him again.
“What the hell do I have to do to please you all? Is it really so hard to give me peace !? I hate this place! I hate this sect I hate you all!" he thinks to himself.
"I'm probably going to end it all today," was the last thought that flashed in his head before he lost consciousness right on the training grounds.
The medical pavilion smells, as expected, of herbs, medical alcohol and some incense. The old man, the chief doctor, looks at the boy with pity - he has known this child for six years. When Wuxian was brought here, he was caring for a small, wounded boy, who looked like a bird with broken wings. The wings will remain but the bird will not be able to fly again. This doctor from time to time made compresses on the whip-crippled back, prescribed and made ointments, and kept the boy's secrets.
"Wei Ying, how are you?" he asks when he notices how the young man's eyelashes trembled.
"Uncle Ling?"
"Yes, it's me, A-Yin."
"I'm ok, eh, not bad I'd say, what happened?" the adept asks confused.
"You fainted. I suspect you're exhausted, when was the last time you ate?"
"In the morning, I had breakfast with the Sect Leader."
"Ah, he really ate, not played with your plate."
"I don't remember, maybe a couple of days ago?" the boy looked away and tried to speak as quietly as possible.
"Oh Gods, rest, I'll bring you something to eat. You should try to eat at least half a bowl. I will say that you have to be released from classes for a few days."
"Not needed. I will eat, have a rest for a bit and I'll be able to train again. Uncle, everything is fine!" the patient tried to persuade older man.
However, it was not possible to persuade a man like Uncle Ling, and he had to take what other man was giving him to leave the doctors' pavilion as soon as possible.
Turned out, he fainted during training and was taken by one of the disciples directly to uncle Ling. Unfortunately for Wei Ying, the incident was reported to the Sect Leader, which led to another quarrel between the Jiang couple.
Wei Ying was able to leave the pavilion only closer to evening, and Jiang Yanli was waiting for him at the exit. The girl smiled tenderly at him, and the concern for her brother was clear in her eyes.
"How are you?" she asked softly.
"Shijie, you know how much I hate this question. I'm okay, I'll sleep and it will pass! Thanks for waiting for me, and sorry for scaring you. I will probably go to my room, i don't have a mood for "soup parties" he smiles weakly.
- Yes, of course, A-Xian, rest more. I'll send a maid with soup for you.
- Don't bother. I'm going to bed right away. Don't worry, you can give my portion to Jiang Cheng.
He turns around under his sister's concerned gaze and walks to his room.
Everything in the room is left as it was in the morning - his room is not cleaned by servants, as he asked. Passing by the bed, he throws his sword. Right in the middle of the room, he dumps a black hanfu, of which he got tired trough the day, passing behind a screen where a barrel of cold water stands, and dives in without heating it. His head is buzzing with excess emotion, it's scary to think that he should give all of himself to the Jiang Sect, in return receiving only a spit in the back. The mother told him to be free, as she was, as her father became when he left this place. Surprisingly, sfter living half of his life in the Pier, he never called it his home.
Closing his eyes? Wey Ying smells pine trees: such incense are standing in his room, his clothes smell like this, hair and his body. Bandages get wet and deep cuts under them too. Hundreds, maybe thousands! They get healed and in their place new ones appear: it's nice, it's making him possible to live another day, another year, another minute with these people.
Wei Ying extends his hand towards the bed and the sword, flying out of the sheath and breaking through the screen, is found directly in Wei Ying's hand.
Ah, Suibian, my dear friend!
The sword is a reflection of the master, the spirit of the sword must be similar to its owner, otherwise it will not become an ideal spiritual weapon. Suibian gleamed happily in his master's hand, trembling with anticipation.
"I'm sorry, today, I think, will be the last time I use you. If you want - become a worthy weapon for another person who you think is worthy, if you want - shut yourself. You were beautiful, Suibian.” Wei Wuxian whispers, stroking the blade of his sword.
The boy runs deep wounds along his veins in his arms, as carefully as possible, and then lowers his sword to the floor next to the barrel.
"I don't regret anything, and I don't dream of anything - only this life to be the last," he whispers, watching the water in the barrel turn red.
"I'm sorry, Mother, I couldn't be who you wanted to see me, it turned out to be too difficult," he thinks, closing his eyes.
The last thing he hears before he finally slips into the darkness is the anxious knock on the door and the voice of his dear shijie.