Chapter 21: Unraveling the Mystery
Ever since receiving Lan Qiren's copy of "The Origin of the Sword Path," Sizhui would spend his daily sword practice session in his study, poring over the scroll. Lan Wangji's youthful annotations were concise and sharp, and he'd occasionally draw small diagrams of sword moves in the margins, revealing his intense concentration during those early days.
That afternoon, Si Zhui was frowning at a note that read, "The sword moves follow the heart, not the heart following the moves." He felt he couldn't grasp the essence of it, so he took the scroll to find Lan Qiren.
Lan Qiren's study was filled with the scent of ink and tea. He was sitting at his desk copying the family rules. When Sizhui came in, he simply raised his eyes and asked, "What's up?"
Si Zhui placed the scroll on the table and pointed at the annotation: "Granduncle, I am stupid and don't understand the difference between 'the heart follows the movements' and 'the movements follow the heart'."
Lan Qiren put down his pen, picked up the scroll, flipped through it for a moment, and suddenly said, "Bring me the sword."
Si Zhui quickly fetched the wooden sword. Lan Qiren took it, and with a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a "Splitting Ice" move. His movements were slow, yet possessed a natural grace, as if swordplay was meant to be performed this way.
"This is 'Moves Follow the Heart'." Lan Qiren put away his sword and handed it back to Si Zhui. "Practice this move again."
Si Zhui followed his instructions but his movements seemed stiff, as if he was deliberately imitating the moves in his memory.
"This is 'the mind follows the movement,'" Lan Qiren commented. "You only remember the form of the move, but forget why it's done that way. It's like writing. If you only trace the strokes without understanding the underlying spirit, then no matter how similar your writing is, it's still a forgery."
Si Zhui suddenly understood: "Disciple, I understand! 'The moves follow the heart' means that the thought of the response comes first, and then the sword is drawn. 'The heart follows the moves' means that the mind is trapped by the moves, and the original intention is lost."
Lan Qiren nodded, a rare, faint smile on his face. "At least you're not too stupid. Your father needed three months to grasp this." He paused, took a new pen, dipped it in ink, and added a line of small words next to the comment: "If the mind is as clear as a mirror, it will naturally be clear."
The ink fell on the yellowed paper, echoing with the handwriting of the young Lan Wangji, creating a sense of resonance that transcended time. Si Zhui looked at the words and suddenly felt that his great-uncle's strictness concealed a deep expectation - not only that he wanted him to master the sword, but also that he could understand his father's state of mind.
As he left the study, Sizhui caught a glimpse of the family rules hanging on the desk. The handwriting was neat and rigorous, but there was a tiny dot of ink at the end of the last line. He suddenly remembered what Wei Wuxian had said: when his great-uncle was young, he would always deliberately place a dot of ink at the end of a chapter he was satisfied with, as if he was competing with himself, or quietly indulging a little pride.
That evening at dinner, Wei Wuxian saw Si Zhui lost in thought as he clung to a scroll, so he leaned over to take a look. "Isn't this Old Man Lan's treasure? How did he give it to you?"
"It was a reward from my great uncle." Si Zhui smiled and told Lan Qiren about the annotations he had made.
After hearing this, Wei WuXian was amazed. "That's great, kid! Your great uncle is giving you all his treasures. Back then, I borrowed your father's copy of 'Ya Zheng Ji' to draw a rabbit, and he chased me for half a mountain."
Upon hearing this, Lan Wangji glanced at Wei Wuxian with helplessness in his eyes, but said nothing.
Si Zhui noticed that when his father's eyes fell on the newly added line of annotations on the book, his fingertips moved slightly, as if he was recalling some warm memories.
At night, Sizhui lay in bed, moonlight streaming through the window lattice onto "The Origin of the Sword Dao." He suddenly understood that, despite the many rules of Cloud Recesses, they were never cold and indifferent. His great-uncle's annotations, his father's sword techniques, his father's jokes, and the jade pendant from his uncle, the Immortal Governor, were like a gentle net, protecting him and keeping him in the center. Nurturing him with both strictness and kindness, he slowly grew into a man with both sharp edges and a sense of warmth.
He picked up his pen and, imitating Lan Qiren's example, gently placed a dot of ink on a blank space on the page. The dot was tiny, but it was like a seed, dropped into time, waiting to one day grow into a towering tree.
And the years in the Cloud Recesses continue. The sound of morning bells and evening drums, the fragrance of ink on books, accompany the boy's growth, step by step towards a more distant future.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
