Ink Lines

Chapter 33

The summer sun was high in the sky above Lotus Pier, the tall grasses across the water were swaying with a a light breeze.

An elegant hand dipped into the water, mimicking the grasses as long clever fingers create ripples. Small fish rise to investigate, darting in-between his grasp and soft laugh rivals the sun with its brilliance. The pink lotus flowers are so vivid against the dark green and the violet of the small fish in this shallow pool.

The hand rises from the water, glistening for a moment in the sun before another hand slightly larger laces their fingers together, uncaring of the water droplets that cling to his skin.

Golden eyes stare adoringly down at the man in his lap, his black martial arts pants rolled up to his knees, feet bare and training jacket long since dropped off to the side. The cooling talismans were working, turning the uncomfortable humidity to a bearable temperature here beneath the wooden pavilion just off the river.

Wei Ying was so beautiful, grey eyes on the sky in a rare moment of peace these last few days, or perhaps these last few years. There was no tension in his frame, mulscular lean body relaxed, almost boneless across the wooden boards and part of Lan Zhan's lap, his head cushioned by Lan Zhan's thighs.

Without his guqin to play, Lan Zhan hummed a tune as they watched the world go by.

Wei Ying didn't have classes for another hour and the paperwork would wait until dusk. He ahd taken on the mantle of sect leader with the ease of someone who had the gift of management and long experience in how thigns were decided. He ahd altered the training shedule and as always tried to fit Sizhui's needs into what the sect demanded. Which meant being there are dinner and there for the all-important bedtime stories.

After that, lan Zhan would help him with the papers, having ample expereince with such things. It was a thing of pride for him to sit beside Wei Ying and battle the acocunts, requests for aid and all of teh commemoration details. He could iamgine hundreds of evening jsut like that, sitting together as they took on the world.

He strokes Wei Ying's silky rioting hair, falling in untidy waves in the heat. He ahd let it grow and usually it was lifted into a pony tail to keep it off his neck and Lan Zhan was enjoying its length. He loved running his fingers through it, rubbing his scalp until Wei Ying was a puddle of immense cultivation gifts.

Just for now they could relax, and Lan Zhan thought ahead to the future to more days like this.

He wore only his white training shirt, appallingly undressed according to his uncle, the sweep of his white training pants almost forming a skirt with their width. Bichen and all his formal pieces were beside them on the wooden floor. Later, Lan Zhan would check in with Sizhui.

Their little boy had done well in all of his classes and this time at home with his family was important. The bond between father and son was strong and as a teacher Wei Ying stood unparalleled. He was off the main rotation of teachers as he took on the sect leader role more fully, which meant a lot of paperwork and overseeing the last part of the restorations.

It was this part that Lan Zhan thought had brought back some terrible memories, heightening the grief over his slain family.

It was hard sometimes for him to look at the pretty bridges and long boardwalks where so many had died and not see the flies over bloodied corpses, instead of the swaying lotus flowers. Not relive those agonizing hours spent searching for Wei Ying's body all while praying he still lived.

And he was not from here, he didn't have years of memories and family he had lost here. The pain Wei Ying must feel even stepping out here must be immense.