PaperLan disciples enter the Cloud Recesses when they are eleven.They begin boisterous and curious a

PaperLan disciples enter the Cloud Recesses when they are eleven.They begin boisterous and curious as children are, full of faces and giggles behind Lan Qiren’s back. Lan Sizhui is delighted to be surrounded by so many his own age after a lifetime of adults. He leads them around the pavilions and shows them all the secret places he’s kept to himself. For a little while, it’s paradise.“Niang made me these, aren’t they pretty?” one of the girls says as she shows off a pair of snow white shoes.“My big sister can also make shoes!” a boy exclaims proudly as he crosses his arms.“You’re all so lucky,” a boy named Lan Jingyi pouts, “Grandma sent me shoes too, but my family are all bad with their hands. My shoe has a hole, and this is the first time I’ve worn them!” He flashes a grin right after and points to his right foot.The group breaks out in laughter.Lan Sizhui laughs too. He stares at his perfect shoes from the seamstress and begins to feel the first bubbles of boiling anger. Niang, sister, grandma. He has none of these. No one threads a needle to sew fine knots for him.How come Hanguang-jun never gave him these things that everyone else has? Supposedly he once had parents, but he begins to doubt it. He’s never seen a portrait or heard anyone confirm their existence. All he remembers is feeling left behind in the darkness.A strange irrational story weaves itself in his head. Maybe he never had parents. Maybe Hanguang-jun had left him there and only returned upon feeling badly afterwards. This twisted story grows with Lan Wangji’s increased time away from the Cloud Recesses. In his absence, the anger festers and compounds.It comes to a head when he leaves for an exorcism and returns many days after he promised. He misses the first time Sizhui flies on his sword. Worse, when he returns, he compliments the other boys on their sword forms but only nods at Sizhui. The serpent of the terrible story winds around his heart until the boy thinks he hates his mentor. There are these better disciples now, disciples who come from high standing, who are wanted. Where does that leave him? His eyes feel hot, and he does the unthinkable.“You just want to leave me! You don’t care!” he screams an incoherent line of thought, “You lied when you said I have parents! I don’t! They don’t even have names.”***After dinner, Lan Wangji takes Sizhui’s hand and pulls him toward the Jingshi courtyard. The boy fiercely jerks his hand back. He’s expecting punishment. Unfazed, Lan Wangji takes it again in his firm grip and refuses to break contact with the ball of obstinate anger behind him.When they arrive, they kneel before a pile of paper surrounded by stones. Lan Wangji lights the paper with a flint and hands Sizhui a stack of white paper money. “Burn these for your parents,” he instructs.“I don’t have parents,” he shoots back before throwing the paper back to Lan Wangji.“They would be hurt to hear you say that.” Sizhui twists his face into a scowl and spits out, “I don’t need parents. I’m not five!” He receives a sharp look signalling him to stop, but he just continues his tirade, “I don’t need you either. You’re just going to leave me anyway. You have the other disciples and all these conferences. Parents are good for nothing.”“Stop this. Parents are…” Lan Wangji contemplates telling the truth, but knows it is unwise. He thinks of his own mother and father, and what little he really knew of them. “Parents exist to be memories for their children.” Carefully gathering the scattered paper, he hands it back to Sizhui and adds, “I’m here. You can be angry, but I will still be here. We will make memories together for you.”The boy huffs a breath but reluctantly takes the paper and throws pieces into the flames. He complains, “Old master Lan says burning paper is pointless. There is no afterlife.”A moment of silence passes before Lan Wangji admits softly, “It is not for them.” He too mourns memories that do not exist.Sizhui glares at Lan Wangji but finds it hard to stay angry with someone sitting next to him. Each page he tosses into the crackling fire burns up part of his rage. They sit in the courtyard long after the fire goes out. It’s far past the rule of curfew. There is mostly silence, but also random questions peppered in between.When the moon rises, he can tell Lan Wangji is struggling to stay awake. They both know he’ll sit as long as Sizhui wants. In the darkness, during those long tired blinks, he tries to not smile.(This is better than shoes) -- source link

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