Wàng Wùjī shakily turned toward the window, to the way his father had pointed. His eyes reflected soft fear and sadness.
Lìngxiāo looked over there too, as if this view would be different from the last one—more full of deep meanings and weight.
"A Hàngwō cannot be scared easily. Because they work in the deepest layer of darkness: death." Wàng Fèng said, his voice a little softer but still determined, as if trying not to scare Wàng Wùjī with the word 'death.'
Wàng Wùjī swallowed hard, still hugging the rose. Làncǎi said nothing, simply observing, keeping Wàng Wùjī steady at his arms.
"I have been in your place. I have been where you will go too." Wàng Fèng muttered as he took a step closer, his hands slowly raising to take his son. The way his hands were so careful also carried a history of being rejected by his son.
When Làncǎi respectfully began to hand Wàng Wùjī to his father, Wàng Wùjī sharply turned, eyes wide—probably thinking his father would steal the rose.
"Not silvary blue! Violet.. i-it matches my robe!" He quickly convinced his father while showing it. He didn't seem to have any intention of putting it down or letting him take it nor moving away form Làncǎi's arms.
Wàng Fèng's gaze fell over the flower—beautiful, grand, so much like Hàngwō. His lips parted thoughtfully before his gaze softened on Làncǎi, as if asking for an explanation.
Làncǎi gently squeezed Wàng Wùjī into his arms, looked at Wàng Fèng, and explained with a tiny bow, "This is the gift I have offered him. He has liked it and desires to.. wear it with his robe. He has not broken anything yesterday either."
Wàng Fèng cleared his throat. His gaze almost softened with quiet thoughts of something—perhaps something he had lost—for a second before it stopped reflecting the reasons into his eyes, like earlier.
"If it is violet and.. he has not destroyed anything, I have no objection." He stood straight, arms lowered and joined behind his back instead of taking his son into his arms.
"Yes, Xiānsheng." Làncǎi gave a gentle, loving ruffle to Wàng Wùjī, who had relaxed a bit when his father moved his hands away. Instead, he was already trying to attach it to his robe.
"Let me do it for you, Xiǎo Wàngjī.." With that, Làncǎi began to adjust the rose at Wàng Wùjī's robe.
Wàng Fèng stood there silently, thoughtful. Then he spoke flatly, but not fully unkind, "Just bring him to the classroom. Keep an eye on him so he does not make excuses to his shì fùs about the washroom and then run back to the garden."
"As you order, Xiānsheng." Làncǎi said with a gentle smile while Wàng Wùjī's gaze fixed over his robe, where the rose was now pinned properly.
But though Wàng Fèng's words carried a silent goodbye for now, he didn't really step out of the room. He watched both of them. Especially Wàng Wùjī. His tight hand hidden into the gorgeous violet sleeve embroidered with silver threads—clenched lightly. Not tight enough to reflect anger, not relaxed enough to show ease. It was like holding onto longing.
Unseen by everyone but Lìngxiāo, who saw it too. As a young boy, he didn't understand much about this composed man's hidden emotions. But he understood that something mattered deeply here—right in front of him.
Lìngxiāo softly exhaled when the tension softened—but not fully. He looked at the man beside him, a little exhausted. As many questions as he had gathered from this place, the fewer were the answers and the heavier was the weight.
The man tilted his head down at Lìngxiāo, eyes half-lidded, lips pressed into a thin line, and a hand at the back of his own neck, pinching there lightly as if the whole moment bored him to death. A slow, faintest smirk spread to his lips when he noticed Lìngxiāo's gaze on him. His eyes said: What is here to learn too? How am I even supposed to be that legendary exorcist you spoke of? What is the biggest reason I should not stay under Hàngwō Clan?
"Well well.." The man hummed, thoughtfully tangling one finger around his own hair, another hand on his hip before letting it slide down over his chest. "Can you see and hear their 'dark' emotions, boy? Not in a physical way, but in an exorcism way."
Lìngxiāo blinked, trying to understand the question. 'How can I see emotions? What does it have to do with dark emotions?'
But still, as told, he looked at them again. At first there was only heavy silence—something he couldn't see but could feel. He hesitated, then shook his head. "No.."
"Ah, try again. Use your hyper-aware exorcism skill. I know it is not fully formed yet, but it would not just lay down at your waiting palm if you do not try." The man instructed in his carefree tone. Then he lowered himself to Lìngxiāo's height and whispered, "There is something interesting to look at. You will get answers if you are able to catch it."
Lìngxiāo swallowed hard, bracing himself for whatever he was about to see. Then he closed his eyes. His lashes carried the untold, silent nervousness. He focused deeply. With determination. With hope. With everything he had been lacking until now.
"Good. Keep focusing." The man instructed again, weaving his earlier lessons into metaphors like a story. "Do not remind yourself that you cannot see through the boundaries. Think of yourself.. as the boundary nobody can break. And if they break, they were never a hammer—but the reason you have been building your walls for. Things start showing up.. when you search for them without looking like you are searching."
Lìngxiāo's eyes tightened, and he hesitated before raising his hand with a needle between his fingers.
'I think.. I can do it if at least one person believes that I did not kill zhù fù.. and that I meant something more..'
He felt like a lot of people were talking, crying, yelling into his ears—unclear, painful, loud—overwhelming. It was anything but what he expected from his hyper-aware exorcism skill. It didn't just make him hear their pain—it made him feel its weight, pressing into his young, already heavy heart.
It felt like the whole clan was weeping into his ears.
When he opened his eyes—fast, burning, a little bloodshot—the needle between his fingers blew up into violet fire, taking the shape of a half-moon.
It just confirmed that the voices and heavy emotions belonged here.
The man chuckled proudly with a deliberate clap. "Nailed it, boy. Now.. what do you see? What do you hear and see.. above the floor and below the roof of Hàngwō..?"