There’s a ghost in the Cloud Recesses.
He moves silently, regally along the paths formed by countless Lan disciples over the centuries, follows the curves and angles of the walkways all the while seeming like he’s in another world and his route just happens to follow the one everyone else walks on. Disciples see him, bow out of his way without quite daring to meet his eyes—perhaps because they’re afraid of what they’d see if their gazes happened to meet.
Or perhaps they’re afraid there would be nothing.
The ghost ignores them. He glides past at an unhurried pace, in the Cloud Recesses but unyieldingly apart from it, in a bubble of solitude and isolation.
The only ones who try to talk to the ghost are Sect Leader Lan and Teacher Lan. Neither gets an answer. The ghost stops if they step in front of him and block his way but he doesn’t acknowledge them in any way, no matter how pleading Sect Leader Lan’s voice or how red Teacher Lan turns. He waits in silence until the way is clear again and then he moves on, impeccable, untouchable.
”Xichen,” Teacher Lan is once heard to huff.
”Leave it, Uncle,” comes the answer. ”It doesn’t matter.”
”He should—”
”I said, leave it,” Sect Leader Lan interrupts. The rudeness makes something cold catch in the passing disciples’ stomachs and they hurry along, averting their eyes from the uncommon, public altercation.
No one quite dares to speculate what the ghost should or should not do.
The ghost resides in a secluded area of the Cloud Recesses that has been strictly out of bounds for over two decades. Younger disciples have no idea why, and older disciples are hesitant to guess and none of them is willing to break the rule against gossiping.
Sometimes the ghost can be seen in the back hills, his pure white robes making him ethereal under the canopy of trees, his beauty even more starkly obvious in the partial shadows. He moves like he knows where he’s going and again, the disciples are reluctant to wonder where that might be. There’s nothing in the back hills but perhaps there has been in the past.
Who knows what paths the ghost walks and why?
As years go by, the ghost turns from a revered and honored curiosity into something more common, almost human. There’s a new generation of young, eager disciples, and amongst them is a boy without a family, a slightly shy child with a gentle smile and something old in his eyes. He seems skeptical of the stories of the ghost that inevitably circulate around but says nothing.
Later, Lan Bao says he saw A-Yuan heading to the back hills next to the ghost but as Lan Bao’s imagination has always been on the more creative side, his observations go unheeded.
With time, A-Yuan grows into Lan Yuan and then Lan Sizhui. He still is a bit shy and his smile stays as gentle as his manners but the heaviness in his eyes doesn’t go away. He never talks about the ghost but he is known to spend time on the back hills. No one—except for Lan Jingyi—knows why.
There’s a ghost in the Cloud Recesses and he keeps having the audacity to live.
The Elders whisper amongst themselves, hissing under their breaths when the ghost isn’t nearby and choking on their words when he appears. None of them dare to meet the ghost’s gaze and they hurry away from his path only to resume their furious whispering behind his back. He makes them uncomfortable and a bit afraid and that makes them careless. One should always heed their words in the Cloud Recesses but the Elders in their turmoil forget about this rule and as a result, passing disciples hear a word here, another there.
Punishment.
Whipping.
Should have died.
The next time the disciples see the ghost, they freeze in their tracks, not quite sure what to do.
In the end, they do nothing.
The ghost passes them by as he always does.
There’s a ghost in the Cloud Recesses. He lives because his brother forced him to. He lives because his body forced him to push through to be there for a child who has no one else. He lives because—
He lives and is distantly aware of people jumping away from his path, of the sphere of austere coldness and fury that surrounds him. He lives even though he no longer knows why.
He’s the ghost of the Cloud Recesses, a walking, breathing reminder of how the Elders tried to silence him and failed, of how he was shoved into isolation and expected to bend.
He didn’t.
He doesn’t.
He’s the ghost of the Cloud Recesses, living through his grief and rage, living out of pure spite.
The Elders know this and they are afraid.
The ghost of the Cloud Recesses couldn’t care less.