Chapter 10: Fireworks in the Quiet Room
The days of being punished to copy the family rules weren't entirely dull. Every morning, Si Zhui would still follow Lan Wangji to the cold pond to practice swordplay. However, after finishing his practice, he would return to the quiet room and spread out the bamboo slips in front of the desk.
Lan Wangji's study was always filled with the faint scent of ink. While he worked on his affairs, Sizhui would copy the family rules beside him. Occasionally, looking up, he could see his father's profile as he reviewed documents with downcast eyes, his eyelashes casting a light shadow beneath his eyes, his fingertips turning the pages with a gentle, steady movement. Sunlight filtered through the carved wooden window, streaming onto the white jade hairpin in his hair, as tranquil as an ink painting.
"Father, this word..." Si Zhui was stuck on an unfamiliar word and asked softly.
Lan Wangji would put down his pen, walk over to him, hold his hand, and teach him to write, stroke by stroke. The coolness of his fingertips, carrying a familiar spiritual energy, radiated through the rice paper, reminding Sizhui of learning to write as a child—his father had been like that back then, with unbelievable patience.
At noon, Wei Wuxian would always return promptly with his lunch box. He always loved to come up with new and unusual treats, sometimes glutinous rice cakes coated in honey, sometimes fried dumplings sprinkled with sesame seeds, and occasionally he'd sneak in a pot of Tianzixiao, only to receive a glare from Lan Wangji before he'd playfully put it away.
“Come and try it, Sizhui. I made your favorite lotus seed soup today.” Wei Wuxian pushed a bowl of sweet soup in front of him, picked up a piece of pork ribs, and put it to Lan Wangji’s mouth, “Lan Zhan, ah——”
Lan Wangji opened his mouth helplessly and bit it, his ears turning red. Si Zhui lowered his head to drink his soup, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up - such a scene always made him feel warm inside.
The afternoons were the most pleasant. If the weather was good, Wei Wuxian would drag Sizhui to the back hills to feed the rabbits. The rabbits in the Cloud Recesses were becoming more and more numerous, white, gray, and black, crammed into bamboo cages, their ears perked up at the sight of people.
"Look at this one. Is it just like you when you were a kid, always cuddling in people's arms?" Wei Wuxian picked up a snow-white little rabbit and stuffed it into Sizhui's arms.
The furry rabbit rubbed against his palm. Si Zhui smiled and scratched its chin, suddenly remembering that when he was a child, he was the same, always clinging to his father, no matter where he went, whether to the library or the sword training ground.
"Daddy, was I annoying then?"
"What are you worried about?" Wei Wuxian ruffled his hair, his eyes full of smiles. "You don't know, when we first brought you back, your face was all wrinkled, like a little monkey. But as soon as you were in my arms, you stopped crying and even clung to the corner of my clothes. You were so adorable."
Sizhui's face flushed slightly, but the rabbit in his arms suddenly broke free and scampered towards the bamboo cage. He looked up and saw Lan Wangji had arrived at some point, standing not far away, holding a few fresh vegetable leaves and smiling at them.
As the sun set, the three of them walked side by side back to the quiet room. Wei Wuxian led the way, humming a tuneless tune. Lan Wangji followed behind, clutching a bamboo cage containing a rabbit. Sizhui walked in the middle, occasionally glancing at his father's serene profile on his left, then at his father's animated eyes on his right, his heart warmed.
Once, Sizhui was copying family rules late into the night when he fell asleep on his desk. Halfway through, he felt someone carry him to bed and cover him with a warm blanket. He half-opened his eyes and saw his father carefully tucking in the quilt. His father whispered, "Be gentle! Don't wake him."
"How much did you copy today?" Lan Wangji lowered his voice.
"That's enough. You're just too strict with him." Wei Wuxian's voice was tinged with laughter. "When you were a kid, you were punished to copy books, and you also dozed off in the ancestral hall, didn't you?"
Lan Wangji didn't say anything, but just reached out and gently brushed away the loose hair on Sizhui's forehead.
Sizhui squeezed his eyes tighter, though tears welled up in the corners. He knew that his father's sternness concealed tenderness, and his father's doting contained a sense of propriety. These two qualities, like a pair of steady hands, supported him as he grew up.
The days flowed slowly like a stream in the depths of the clouds, clear and peaceful. Si Zhui gradually understood that home was never built brick by brick, but rather a bowl of hot porridge in the morning, a word of advice after sword practice, a punishment when you made a mistake, and a light left on for you late at night.
He began to look forward to the daily morning lessons, to his father teaching him new sword moves, to the novel food his father would make, and even to his father's words "go and copy the family rules" after he made a mistake occasionally - because he knew that no matter what he went through, there would always be two people waiting for him in the quiet room, waiting for him to slowly tell them the story of the day.
But he didn't know at the time that these days would soon change. A sudden change sweeping across the Immortal Sect was quietly brewing, and the fate of him, his father, and his father would be swept away by this storm, heading towards an unknown distance.
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