[It was all the starvation. 😌 Anyway, he grins at her for a moment longer and then chuckles under his breath.]
I was seventeen when I took him in, but I was only one of many in charge of his care. His family...[He frowns and sighs, wondering how to explain without getting into everything.]
They were refugees. There was a terrible war, and they were civilians on the losing side. After everything was over, people called for the extinction of their family line. So I defected. I took them and I hid them and that's how a-Yuan became partly mine. [He runs his fingers over the drawing and sighs.]
His parents had passed even before the war so when we lived as refugees, we all took care of him together. Mostly me, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Granny Wen. He was a good child. The best. So easy and so sweet. [A pause] Zewu-jun says he grew up well.
〈 another piece to fit into the puzzle that is wei wuxian. her expression softens. "defected," he says. knowing how much he loved his sister and brother…she cannot imagine what it cost him to leave the life he knew, his family to become a fugitive himself. simultaneously, she cannot imagine him doing otherwise. 〉
I thought he was my age. 〈 said in the same tone as someone realizing they accidentally unleashed the evil from box it had been locked inside. 〉 Like older than me, sure, but not old-old.
[Happily skipping past the trauma under the surface here—]
I'll be twenty in October. And Huaisang...uh. He's younger than Zewu-jun, we would be the same age if I wasn't dead, but I'm not sure how long it's been for him. Several years at least. So he's...maybe 30? You'd have to ask him.
[He pauses.] Did I never tell you that cultivators don't age at mortal rates? Zewu-jun will probably live to be a couple of hundred years if he dies a natural death. Huaisang a little less because his golden core isn't as strong.
[And then, delighted] You just called Zewu-jun old.
[That gets a laugh out of him and he leans against her side, eyes catching sight of the sketchbook again and going soft.]
I can't believe my a-Yuan is near twenty. That's...he might be older than me, can you believe it? I wish—[He stops himself, lets out a soft sigh, and then continues against his better judgment.]
I wish I could have seen him grow up. It's enough that he did. More than enough. But I would have liked to have seen it.
〈 every parent does. the last words her mom spoke to gwen were about love, she knows. her dad has always told her how proud her mom would be of her. but she wonders…
wonders about several things, in fact. 〉
Wei Wuxian? 〈 she waits until he looks at her before asking, 〉 What was the deal you made?
[His eyes shoot to hers and he freezes, his shoulder stiffening as he meets her gaze. He holds it for a moment and then looks away, his expression gone distant.]
If my regret is undone, the battle that took my sister's life will never happen.
〈 her eyes search his face. whatever she finds, her mouth presses into a line.
her voice is no louder than his when she says, 〉 You fucking idiot.
〈 the portrait, she leaves on the bed. her phone she takes in hand. her heart is pounding and she wants to hit something. she leaves before that something becomes wei wuxian. 〉
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I was seventeen when I took him in, but I was only one of many in charge of his care. His family...[He frowns and sighs, wondering how to explain without getting into everything.]
They were refugees. There was a terrible war, and they were civilians on the losing side. After everything was over, people called for the extinction of their family line. So I defected. I took them and I hid them and that's how a-Yuan became partly mine. [He runs his fingers over the drawing and sighs.]
His parents had passed even before the war so when we lived as refugees, we all took care of him together. Mostly me, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Granny Wen. He was a good child. The best. So easy and so sweet. [A pause] Zewu-jun says he grew up well.
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How old is he now?
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He grew up happy and safe. I didn't know. Zewu-jun told me on the last mission. This whole time I thought...well. [He shrugs.]
He was really the best. Absolutely adorable, and so loving. And so gullible. [He was FOUR.] I hope he's still gullible.
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Twenty? 〈 a pause. 〉 How old is Xichen?
〈 in her shock, switching back to one-name basis. 〉
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I suppose in his late 30's or early 40's now. I'm not exactly sure.
1/2
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〈 there is one correct answer here, and wei wuxian better land on it before she physically throws him. 〉
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I'll be twenty in October. And Huaisang...uh. He's younger than Zewu-jun, we would be the same age if I wasn't dead, but I'm not sure how long it's been for him. Several years at least. So he's...maybe 30? You'd have to ask him.
[He pauses.] Did I never tell you that cultivators don't age at mortal rates? Zewu-jun will probably live to be a couple of hundred years if he dies a natural death. Huaisang a little less because his golden core isn't as strong.
[And then, delighted] You just called Zewu-jun old.
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No, you didn’t, you dick! Oh, God, I thought I couldn’t tell ages anymore.
〈 she presses a hand to her chest. 〉
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Not children of course, but still inexperienced.
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No.
〈 she holds up her hands in front of her and shakes her head firmly. 〉
Huaisang, I can give you. But Xichen is fucking old. I thought he was an old soul, no. He’s just old.
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Aiya, this rudeness! [He's absolutely loving it.]
Don't you know we should respect our elders, Gwen?
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I can't believe my a-Yuan is near twenty. That's...he might be older than me, can you believe it? I wish—[He stops himself, lets out a soft sigh, and then continues against his better judgment.]
I wish I could have seen him grow up. It's enough that he did. More than enough. But I would have liked to have seen it.
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wonders about several things, in fact. 〉
Wei Wuxian? 〈 she waits until he looks at her before asking, 〉 What was the deal you made?
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If my regret is undone, the battle that took my sister's life will never happen.
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You made a deal about the battle?
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The specifics don't matter. It will accomplish what I need it to.
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her voice is no louder than his when she says, 〉 You fucking idiot.
〈 the portrait, she leaves on the bed. her phone she takes in hand. her heart is pounding and she wants to hit something. she leaves before that something becomes wei wuxian. 〉
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