'Could it be.. that we both are.. family somehow..?'
'Or.. am I forcing reasons from this knowledge about myself because I wish for it?'
'Is that why he is always strict on me.. and now.. saying it like it was always something.. to protect..?'
A shiver ran through him at the unexpected weight of his own thought.
It even felt ridiculous to think this way. But no—what if it was possible? This single question was strong enough to make him forget about actually joining Hàngwō and stay locked into his own investigation.
"Pàpà is angry.." Wàng Wùjī still tried to return the flower, even though Làncǎi said violet was hard to find and that it was his gift. "Looks Scary.. Sùsù gone... for pàpà's anger." He called someone's name. "I not bad boi.."
'Sùsù? Is he.. the other twin or.. someone else..?'
He thought while watching Làncǎi gently bring back the boy's smile—by turning the white flower into silver with violet, matching his robe perfectly. Now he could wear it without getting scolded by his father. Gentle laughter filled the room.
After a little silence, Lìngxiāo quietly asked the man beside him, "Would the exorcism path help me find.. my origin..?"
"You are not going to be just some common exorcist." The man said proudly, patting his shoulder—heavy and warm. "You will be the one who would write the legend of the exorcism path."
"But how..?" He mumbled, almost hopelessly. It was too big an expectation for someone who hadn't even managed to work on that corpse properly.
The man didn't answer immediately. His patting just grew softer—patient. A silent: wait.
"Let me show you more reality of this clan. And then, we move to another one." He said, looking outside through the tiny hole in the wooden door, searching for something.
Lìngxiāo cleared his throat—or rather, swallowed down too many things to respond. 'Who knows what is more waiting to see.. while I feel like I've seen enough already..'
"Lesson coming~ take a side, boy." The man hummed and guided Lìngxiāo to the side.
Lìngxiāo didn't know who was coming or what lesson awaited. But he could feel the coldness of the last seconds of the storm.
Then the door opened with a sharper thud, revealing a majestic looking young man. Even the soft morning light didn't soften his pale complexion. His eyes, his hair—everything matched Wàng Wùjī, but a shade darker. No touch of real peace or innocence lingered in his face.
Wàng Wùjī's father.
His voice cut through the remaining peace in the room. "Is he not prepared for the lessons yet, Jiǎng Làncǎi..?"
The man's voice made little Wàng Wùjī hide behind Làncǎi's sleeve unconsciously, as Làncǎi stood up respectfully.
Lìngxiāo's breath caught. It felt like a Hàngwō blade had passed through him. He had never imagined seeing this man—who was nothing less than a king—so closely, right after seeing his son. After everything. It all felt too much.
Then he caught another detail.
'So.. gēge's full name has Jiǎng..? But everyone spells his name like 'Làn' is the first part..' He stored this detail in his memory for later, unable to ignore it.
"Here he goes again.." the man beside him mumbled, bored, then added for Lìngxiāo, "But keep watching. You will know the rest."
Lìngxiāo nodded shakily. His veins felt tight. Even though he didn't know why this high-class cultivator couldn't see them, he felt like he would get caught. 'Wàng Fèng Xiānsheng.. is more scary from this close..'
"He is prepared, Xiānsheng.." Làncǎi said respectfully, head lowered slightly, a polite smile at his lips.
Wàng Fèng looked at his boy trembling in Làncǎi's arms, not daring to look at him. His velvet violet eyes were observant as he spoke. "Has he finished his breakfast and taken his herbs today?"
"He did like a good boy, Xiānsheng.. you do not need to worry." Làncǎi said, cupping Wàng Wùjī's head gently. "He will heal quickly if he regularly takes them."
"Good. Is that so." Wàng Fèng muttered. Then he tilted his head, spotting that Wàng Wùjī was hiding something close to his heart.
Wàng Wùjī awkwardly hid the rose away—like he'd been caught committing a crime. The poor boy was afraid even though the rose was no longer white or any other noticeable color.
"Has he broken any of my showpieces again and kept the shiniest part? 'Silvary blue' again?" Wàng Fèng said flatly, as if this had a long history behind it.
Lìngxiāo bit his lower lip, trying not to sweat at the way this man gazed at his own son—like a snake teaching a little snake how to bite. The small history was like little bites of curiosity. 'Broke more things.. before.. to collect 'silvary blue' parts only? Does.. he have any memory around that color..?'
Wàng Wùjī shut his eyes tightly, biting into Làncǎi's robe.
"No, Xiānsheng. He is not hiding anything." Làncǎi said truthfully, trying not to give the Patriarch any wrong idea. "I have just gifted him a violet rose and.. he might be scared that you would scold him for taking it—or for any other reason."
"Like I desire to scream all day at my own heir." Wàng Fèng muttered again, two fingers pressed at the corners of his eyes—like he was done with his life but not fully angry. He looked up again. "If he just cries, yells and doesn't eat all day out of anger—while showing me that.. distracting color.. why would I not scold him?"
Làncǎi seemed to be trusted enough by Wàng Fèng for him to speak this way—almost helpless and disappointed. He even seemed to have some problem with the color. It was too confusing.
Làncǎi smiled sympathetically, a little awkward, as if he didn't know what to do with Wàng Wùjī either—while the boy seemed so distressed and unwilling to give in, perhaps since the day Làncǎi started taking care of him.
"He will be a good boy from now on. I will take care of everything, Xiānsheng. Just.. give him a little time to adjust from the three heartbreaks.."
'Three.. heartbreaks at this age..? Clan heirs.. lose too much too young..'
Lìngxiāo's sympathy for Wàng Wùjī grew deeper. Something that would last forever. Too strong to ignore. He wanted to protect him like a big brother too.
The whole time, the man beside him stayed silent, letting Lìngxiāo absorb the scene on his own.
"Wàngjī." Wàng Fèng called to his son. "Hiding like a thief is not the nature of the heir of Hàngwō. If you fear facing me, then what will you do out there after ten years..?" He pointed outside, toward the postmortem room.