SONG

                                    

                                          

Lan Wangji sat back and watched Sizhui play a piece. He was familiar with both classical and contemporary music, but not with this one. But everything seemed familiar to him
"Where did you get that piece?" he inquired.
"Sir Wei taught me..." Sizhui continued, "I was also surprised that he knows how to play musical instruments... He plays the flute and a dizi, he said..."
Wangji responded with a nod. He could also see his son's affection in his eyes, "you're enjoying his company..."
It was a statement rather than a question. "Yes, dad... It's the same feeling whenever I'm with you..." Sizhui smiled.
"Whenever I'm discouraged, feeling down, and confused... He talks to me and guides me... It was the feeling of having a doting mother..." Wangji continued, "he talks to me despite knowing my background... He listened to me attentively... Make me laugh with his unusual antics... He even teaches me how I should live and what I should live..."
"He teaches me everything he knows... It felt like being a child in a mother's care... It is soothing," he said as he played another piece.
Wangji felt his heart well up with joy, his son fitting in so well unlike before. He was well aware that, despite his brilliance, his background always drags him down and pushes him to the brink. He also knew Sizhui would never tell him anything because it was in his nature not to bother him.
He was also assured of his son's safety. Now that he has someone to whom he can confide his concerns, he can rest assured that he is in good hands.
His well-mannered son has begun to emerge from his shell and try to be true to the world.
This was the first time in three thousand years that his concerns had been unfounded.
He enjoys seeing his son go about his business as he sees fit.
Sizhui played the piano keys with grace. Wangji sat beside him and began to play with him. With the moon so high in the sky, their duet rang out in the middle of the night. It was translucent, elegant, and ephemeral, appearing unworldly as if from the heavens.
It was the song they both liked.
Sizhui closed his eyes and saw a familiar figure standing before him, playing the same song on the flute. His tears fell, and a smile could be seen on his lips.
"Xian-gege..." he called softly, "ma."
Wangji cast a glance at him, recalling a trio on their song with two guqins and a dizi. Looking at his son made him notice the figure.
And a familiar voice called his name in his head.
"Wei Ying," he said.
Sizhui opened his eyes and turned to face his father. Confused. "Was... Sir Wei someone you knew?" he asked, pausing his piano playing.
"You always call his name... Even before..." Wangji shook his head.
"Was he the person you were looking for?" Sizhui continued.
Wangji pursed his lips, attempting to elicit an answer from his throat. He only manages to say, "I'm not sure..."
Sizhui was aware. He was told that what he sees are memories of his previous lives—his original life—rather than hallucinations.
"Do you want to be with him, Dad?"
Wangji remained silent.
"Try being with him... Maybe... He's the one you've been looking for..."