The house had been empty for a good while before the woman moved in.
It had been a peaceful existence, before her. Every now and then, a Lan stayed for a month or a dozen, concentrating on their cultivation in seclusion before moving on, leaving the house as empty as it had been. There hadn’t been a permanent resident in, well, ever, until the woman.
She was bathed in moonlight when she arrived, a slender young thing, wreathed in rage and sorrow, holding herself like she was about to shatter. The house embraced her tenderly, trying to help her deal with her pain, but she was too angry to listen. So, the house sighed and settled back, offering peace and solace until the woman was better equipped to receive it. As time went on, however, her pain and rage didn’t lessen but grew harder and sharper instead, increasing with the swelling of her stomach.
It should’ve been a time of joy and anticipation.
Instead, it was a time of bewilderment. The woman seemed as baffled about the new life growing inside her as the house was about its new occupants, but she seemed to accept her fate with grim determination.
The house was happy. Things would get better, wouldn’t they?
The first day of each month became the most anticipated day for them both, as it was the day when the boy visited. The woman smiled, and the pain that seemed to be her most usual companion let up, allowing her to smile and laugh and spin the boy around until they were both breathless and giggling without a worry.
Those were the moments the house, too, was the happiest, for what better way to fill the space under its roof with life and laughter than a child?
And then came the nights when the woman’s pain overflowed, choking both her and the house, filling it with cold fury and resentment. The house tried to help her, but its reserves were limited as it hadn’t been saturated with spiritual energy as thoroughly as some other places on the mountain. The woman avoided sleep and the nightmares that waited within, choosing to sit by the window instead and gaze at the moon, far away and unreachable.
Sometimes the nightmares weren’t in her dreams but in her waking world instead, and the house shuddered with the violence and hatred that seeped into its walls and floorboards like rot, tainting the air and sickening the ground the house stood on.
When the woman started to grow another new life within her, the house already knew it wouldn’t be a time of happiness but it hoped the woman would find peace with a second boy to cuddle and tickle. And she did—for one day in a month. It was too little and too late, and when the nightmares started to creep in again, it was the beginning of the end.
The man who visited the woman was robed in obsession and greed and lust, and it poured out of him in waves that dimmed any sliver of happiness the woman had managed to hold on to. His presence infected everything he touched, and the house could do nothing but observe as the woman slowly, gradually, irrevocably started to fade away.
By the window, through which moonlight peeked into the room to curiously touch everything in sight, was a spot that had been hers since the day she arrived. She’d sat there through countless nights gazing into the wide, open sky that was forever denied from her.
Now, that spot was empty.
As moonlight traveled across the silent room, it brushed against a gently swaying legs and jumped back when a shoe fell from a foot suddenly gone still.
The house mourned.
Years later, a solemn boy stepped into the house and looked around with wonder and yearning in his eyes, and the house thought,
Maybe.
It witnessed studying and meditating and the horrific realization of feelings, and then another boy—this sunlight-bright—and thought,
Yes, please.
And then, grief. Again.
As the house held memories of gentle smiles and shrieking laughter, and Lan Zhan! and Wei Ying, cradling mementos like portraits and dried peonies and a frayed, stained red ribbon, it wondered if it was always cursed to shelter sadness.
There was still hope, though, in the shape of a small boy who was not forced to leave but who was welcomed, loved, cherished instead. He sat tucked between the solemn-boy-turned-serious-man and the shape of someone lost and dear beyond words, and he learned patience and understanding and quiet mischief, all wrapped in the soft, protective love of the man who wished things had been different.
The house settled, shook away some of the darkness clinging to it, and wondered if this would finally be it.
Years and years later, the house shivered as sunlight returned in the shape of a man. He was no longer blindingly bright but coy, hiding behind clouds, but the light and heat were still there, still familiar. He walked in cautiously, touched the doorframes with longing and pride, and traced his fingers along the crooked floorboard hiding secrets underneath.
Are you finally staying? the house wanted to ask but as it couldn’t, it tried to wrap belonging and safety around the man, pouring out everything it had stored within its frame during long, lonely years filled with notes vibrating with yearning.
”Lan Zhan…are you sure your house isn’t haunted?” the sun-bright man asked, whirling around and dancing back to the serious man with his hands held behind his back. He tilted his head, and the house felt something brush back at it, almost as a greeting.
Hello, the house thought. Welcome.
”Not haunted,” the serious man said calmly, basking in the smile of the one he’d finally gotten back.
The house had watched this man since the very beginning, from the painful-sad first moments to the kisses on the cheek and ”My a-Zhan is always so serious,” and ”Xiongzhang, I miss Mother,” and tormenting dreams and then tormenting dreams and then nightmares and then, ”Careful, A-Yuan, be patient,” and ”Wei Ying, are you there? Are you at peace?”
And now…
Now, he was glowing with contentment as he cupped sunlight in his hand and drank it all up, warming the whole house with his devotion.
This time, when moonlight tiptoed into the room, it paused by the bed with tangled sheets and limbs heavy and satiated with love. It darted to kiss flushed cheeks before it continued its dance across the room, over the robes haphazardly thrown on the floor, past a tipped-over teacup, and then out of the window.
The house sighed, letting go of the final lingering traces of darkness and rage, and settled down to be a home.