Chapter 7 Love in the Ancestral Hall
The flickering candlelight in the ancestral hall cast a long shadow over Lan Sizhui. He knelt on the futon, a dull ache in his back throbbing with each stroke of his pen. His wrists were already numb, yet he had only copied the bamboo slips for the thirty-second time.
The candle wick crackled, and he instinctively retracted his hand. The ink from the tip of his pen dripped onto the bamboo, creating a small black spot. Si Zhui frowned in frustration and was about to start over when he heard light footsteps outside the ancestral hall.
Wei Wuxian walked in carrying a food box and a lantern in his hand. The warm yellow light cast his shadow on the blue brick floor, as soft as a ball of cotton.
"Haven't you finished copying yet?" He placed the food box next to the altar and bent down to look at the words on the bamboo slips. "My hands are shaking so much, take a break."
Si Zhui shook his head and paused the pen tip on the bamboo slip: "There are still eighteen times to go." His voice was nasal and the ending tone trembled slightly - not because of the pain, but because he had been up all night and could not hold on any longer.
Wei Wuxian squatted down and studied him in the lantern light. The boy's eyes were red, his eyelashes stained with fresh tears, and his lips were chapped and peeling, clearly in pain and fatigue.
“Your father’s temper is stubborn.” Wei Wuxian took a porcelain bowl from the lunch box and poured some warm sweet soup into it. “Drink something first, or you won’t be able to get up tomorrow.”
The sweet soup was filled with the aroma of osmanthus flowers, giving it a refreshing and sweet fragrance. Si Zhui stared at the rim of the bowl, his nose suddenly sore, and tears fell without warning, hitting the cold blue bricks.
"Daddy..." He choked and sobbed, his voice aggrieved like a wounded little animal, "My back hurts... My hands are sore..."
This was the first time he had acted so openly and coquettishly while being punished. In the past, no matter how painful it was, he had simply gritted his teeth and endured it, always believing that admitting a mistake required proper acknowledgment. But now, facing Wei Wuxian's gentle eyes, all that forced strength suddenly collapsed, leaving only a sense of grievance and exhaustion.
Wei Wuxian's heart softened like melted sugar. He reached out and pulled Sizhui into his arms, moving so gently as if he wasn't afraid to break him. "If it hurts, just cry it out. Why hold it in?"
Sizhui buried his face in his shirt and wept softly. His tears soaked the fabric, carrying the warmth of a young man. He didn't dare cry out loud, only sobbing, his shoulders heaving like a little bird drenched in rain.
“Daddy knows you’re in pain.” Wei Wuxian patted his back gently, avoiding the red and swollen areas. “Your father’s punishment was a bit harsh, but he was also very worried. Today at the Su Clan Ancestral Hall, he saw you surrounded by black energy and could barely hold your sword.”
Sizhui's crying became quieter.
"You're just too sensible." Wei Wuxian picked up the spoon, scooped a spoonful of sweet soup and passed it to his mouth. "You didn't even cry out in pain when you were punished, and you didn't tell us when you were wronged. Actually, you don't need to be so stubborn in front of your parents."
The sweet soup slid down his throat, and the warmth spread along his esophagus, soothing his internal organs. Si Zhui sniffed and whispered, "I was wrong... I shouldn't have made you worry."
"It's good to know you're wrong, but there's no need to push yourself too hard." Wei Wuxian wiped his tears. "Your father asked you to copy the family rules because he wanted you to remember the word responsibility, not to wear you down. You can copy the rest tomorrow. I'll go talk to him."
Si Zhui quickly shook his head: "No...Father will be angry."
"He dares." Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow, but his tone was smiling. "I, your father, still have some dignity. Besides, if I really let you kneel until dawn, how will you recover tomorrow? If you develop a chronic illness later, he will be more distressed than anyone else."
He handed the bowl to Sizhui: "Be good, finish your soup. I'll get you a blanket. You'll catch a cold if you keep kneeling."
Si Zhui held the warm porcelain bowl in his hand and watched Wei Wuxian turn around to get the blanket. He felt a sudden warmth in his heart. He knew that his father was always like this, always leaving a soft spot for him outside of his father's strict rules.
A short while later, Wei Wuxian returned with a thick wool blanket, carefully spreading it on the futon. "Use it for cushioning; your knees must be swollen from kneeling." He then pulled out a small porcelain bottle from his bosom. "This is excellent medicine. I'll help you rub your back later."
Si Zhui lowered his head and whispered, "Thank you, Daddy."
“Why are you being so polite to me?” Wei WuXian scratched his nose. “Drink your soup quickly! It won’t taste good if it gets cold.”
Sizhui sipped the sweet soup, the aroma of osmanthus lingering in his nose. The ancestral hall was still quiet, but the candlelight seemed less glaring, and the pain in his back seemed to have eased a little.
He suddenly remembered when he was very young and had a high fever in the mass graves. It was Wei Wuxian who held him in his arms, humming a tuneless song all night long. The memory of that time was already blurred, but the warm feeling was exactly the same as now.
"Dad," Si Zhui suddenly said, "Do you think I'm troublesome? I always make mistakes and always make you worry..."
Wei WuXian smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. "Silly child, raising a son for a hundred years is always a worry for ninety-nine. Your father may not say it, but he cherishes you deeply. Last time you fainted in the cold pond, he stayed by your bedside for three days without closing his eyes."
Sizhui was stunned.
"We punish you because we're afraid you'll go astray; we love you because you're our child." Wei Wuxian's voice was soft, but it struck Sizhui's heart like a hammer. "These two things are never contradictory."
Si Zhui lowered his head and drank the last sip of the sweet soup, his eyes welling up again. He knew that he would never meet anyone better than his father and his daddy in this life.
Wei WuXian cleared the dishes and applied medicine to his back before saying, "Copy it twice more and then go to sleep. I'll stay here with you."
Sizhui nodded and picked up his pen again. This time, the tip of the pen no longer trembled, and the words that fell on the bamboo slip were more steady than ever before.
The sky outside the window gradually brightened, and the candlelight in the ancestral hall slowly dimmed. Wei Wuxian dozed against a pillar, holding the blanket he had prepared for Sizhui in his arms. Sizhui looked at his sleeping face and suddenly felt that this was what home was all about—strict instruction, gentle protection, and a light and a bowl of soup always left on for you.
He looked down at the bamboo slips where he had copied the text fortieth time and smiled softly. He would definitely finish the remaining ten copies tomorrow. Because he knew that no matter how many mistakes he made or how many detours he took, there would always be two people waiting for him, waiting for him to grow up and become a better person.
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