As the terseness of Hanguang-jun's expression eases and the verbal reassurance drifts over Sizhui, the tension of his shoulders likewise ebbs and his gaze lifts hopefully from the ground. There's a relief that settles in his chest briefly, glad to have passed through that trial without invoking any further ire. Has Hanguang-jun ever actually been angry with him before? Not that he can recall, and he's not sure that his heart could have withstood that response.
But the one that follows is still troubling enough. The trouble isn't in the asking... Sizhui turns that thought over for several seconds, at first just trying to absorb it and then trying to gauge what his response should be. If not in the asking, then the trouble must be in the answering.
He can't quite remember exactly how it had been in those early days. Just that everything had been confusing and frightening, all the more difficult for a child to understand. Had things gotten better as he got older because of his age? Or because the people around him had built him a new foundation? He can't imagine Hanguang-jun being afraid, and that isn't the feeling that he gets from his mentor; but the frustration is palpable, and that much Sizhui can understand.
Having questions without answers, instruction but no memories to rely on, had been a fraught train of thought for a long time. What was he to do when told to pay respects, if he had neither names or faces to honor? How could a child that had forgotten his parents possibly be loyal and filial? He couldn't follow those instructions anymore than a man with two broken legs could walk, and for a long time it had felt like a personal failing. It was only when he had begun to replace those holes with new people, trying his best to hold them side by side in his heart, that he had begun to accept that he could only do his best. If he was to respect and remember his elders, then he would do so for the ones that he knew. If he was told to be loyal and filial, then he would be to the one that felt most like a father. No one could ask him to do more than that.
"It's alright if you don't have answers to give," Sizhui finally offers, finding himself again in the position of giving guidance to his mentor. The one that had taught him with so much wisdom over the years. He only hopes that he can return even half as much. "It must seem like we've been putting pressure on you to recover quickly, but it's not something that you can will into happening. I know that, and I'm sure that Wei-qianbei and Klaudia understand as well. We wouldn't hold it against you."
Sizhui's reassurances are without a doubt sincere and speak of a depth of patience and empathy that is remarkable, in a way that feels distantly familiar, as if reminding him of someone absent. Once again frustratingly out of his reach, a presence nameless and faceless, locked away in his own mind behind a door without a key. Sizhui says it is alright to have nothing to give in return for all their care and efforts, for all the worry and disruption he has been causing. But how can that be true? How can any of this be alright, how should it not be held against him, when he is so incomplete that he cannot even manage the most basic respect of remembering the people that matter most in his life.
But he also feels, equally as strongly, that Sizhui's words must be valued. If he can't do anything else, he can still strive to deserve his disciples' and his friend's kindness. He feels that he trusts them unconditionally, so should he not also trust that their loyalty isn't misplaced?
"Sizhui is insightful beyond his years," he acknowledges after a moment, the troubled crease between his brows relenting as he does his best to take the boy's words to heart. He inclines his head minutely towards him, though not fully meeting his gaze and unable to banish the regret and longing entirely from his voice as he muses, "I must be proud of you." If only he knew how this child came to be like this, what their relationship is meant to be like. The memories he can't access are not only a fault, but also a precious treasure lost to him.
The praise in that acknowledgement has Sizhui looking down again, mildly embarrassed but holding a warmth in his heart that doesn't dissapate. If he seems insightful or patient or kind, then he can only thank Hanguang-jun for teaching him in much the same way over the years. But the words that follow after are both comforting and sobering. Such direct praise was uncommon to hear where his mentor was concerned. Even so, Sizhui knew from the bottom of his heart the pride was there, implicit in the trust that Hanguang-jun placed in him and the warm expressions that passed between them. The words themselves weren't necessary... though now they feel tinged with a sadness that Sizhui wishes wasn't there.
His lips close, pressing together for a moment to hold back his own emotion, and he nods in affirmation. He would be proud... At least, that is Sizhui's hope with everything that he does. "Hanguang-jun has taught me with patience and kindness. To not judge by appearances. To be generous with others. To rely on my own experiences." All Lan principles to be sure, but the emphasis was his. Many of the other principles had their own merits, but they paled in comparison to these that had been nurtured with care in his heart.
But Sizhui hesitates on his next words, unsure if they'll be well received or not. The gratitude that he feels is so deeply ingrained from the first moments that he can remember, and it was possible that would feel like just another burden to someone with no memory of raising him. And yet, he wonders if it might be a relief to know that he isn't alone on this path. That he can share those burdens if he wants, and that Sizhui would be glad to lighten the load on his heart even just a little.
"...When I was in the same place, Hanguang-jun was the only one familiar to me," he continues, halting and unsure but building strength. "A feeling of safety in a sea of strange faces and buildings. Paying back even half the kindness I was shown then would take more than one lifetime; but I still hope that my experiences can help Hanguang-jun with his."
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But the one that follows is still troubling enough. The trouble isn't in the asking... Sizhui turns that thought over for several seconds, at first just trying to absorb it and then trying to gauge what his response should be. If not in the asking, then the trouble must be in the answering.
He can't quite remember exactly how it had been in those early days. Just that everything had been confusing and frightening, all the more difficult for a child to understand. Had things gotten better as he got older because of his age? Or because the people around him had built him a new foundation? He can't imagine Hanguang-jun being afraid, and that isn't the feeling that he gets from his mentor; but the frustration is palpable, and that much Sizhui can understand.
Having questions without answers, instruction but no memories to rely on, had been a fraught train of thought for a long time. What was he to do when told to pay respects, if he had neither names or faces to honor? How could a child that had forgotten his parents possibly be loyal and filial? He couldn't follow those instructions anymore than a man with two broken legs could walk, and for a long time it had felt like a personal failing. It was only when he had begun to replace those holes with new people, trying his best to hold them side by side in his heart, that he had begun to accept that he could only do his best. If he was to respect and remember his elders, then he would do so for the ones that he knew. If he was told to be loyal and filial, then he would be to the one that felt most like a father. No one could ask him to do more than that.
"It's alright if you don't have answers to give," Sizhui finally offers, finding himself again in the position of giving guidance to his mentor. The one that had taught him with so much wisdom over the years. He only hopes that he can return even half as much. "It must seem like we've been putting pressure on you to recover quickly, but it's not something that you can will into happening. I know that, and I'm sure that Wei-qianbei and Klaudia understand as well. We wouldn't hold it against you."
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But he also feels, equally as strongly, that Sizhui's words must be valued. If he can't do anything else, he can still strive to deserve his disciples' and his friend's kindness. He feels that he trusts them unconditionally, so should he not also trust that their loyalty isn't misplaced?
"Sizhui is insightful beyond his years," he acknowledges after a moment, the troubled crease between his brows relenting as he does his best to take the boy's words to heart. He inclines his head minutely towards him, though not fully meeting his gaze and unable to banish the regret and longing entirely from his voice as he muses, "I must be proud of you." If only he knew how this child came to be like this, what their relationship is meant to be like. The memories he can't access are not only a fault, but also a precious treasure lost to him.
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His lips close, pressing together for a moment to hold back his own emotion, and he nods in affirmation. He would be proud... At least, that is Sizhui's hope with everything that he does. "Hanguang-jun has taught me with patience and kindness. To not judge by appearances. To be generous with others. To rely on my own experiences." All Lan principles to be sure, but the emphasis was his. Many of the other principles had their own merits, but they paled in comparison to these that had been nurtured with care in his heart.
But Sizhui hesitates on his next words, unsure if they'll be well received or not. The gratitude that he feels is so deeply ingrained from the first moments that he can remember, and it was possible that would feel like just another burden to someone with no memory of raising him. And yet, he wonders if it might be a relief to know that he isn't alone on this path. That he can share those burdens if he wants, and that Sizhui would be glad to lighten the load on his heart even just a little.
"...When I was in the same place, Hanguang-jun was the only one familiar to me," he continues, halting and unsure but building strength. "A feeling of safety in a sea of strange faces and buildings. Paying back even half the kindness I was shown then would take more than one lifetime; but I still hope that my experiences can help Hanguang-jun with his."