Unfortunate circumstances
Siyuan never said it, (well, he didn’t typically say much of anything--the reserved third-born Nie wasn’t exactly known for his vocality), but in a way, Siyuan prided himself on the steely control he held over his own emotions. Nie Siyuan may not resemble in appearance the bear-brunt might that his brothers, father, and many forefathers before them held--but emotionally--much to the chagrin of his mother--he was a typical Nie: unyielding, unrelenting, and at times, unfeeling. Mentally, Siyuan was the logical one of the family--viewing disputes with unbiased perspective, unswayed by ire or wrath, mediating conflicts with foresight of the larger picture. For one to remain impartial, one needed to possess a clear, unperturbed mind--that was Siyuan.
All to say, it was rare--if not impossible--for Siyuan to descend into a foul mood. Nonetheless, despite how Siyuan liked to view himself, he wasn’t impervious. No one was truly made of steel, especially not a teenager like him.
Siying had called him ‘cold’.
Cold. The word was Siyuan’s constant companion. Those who dared to say it aloud were usually brave enough, if not angry enough, to throw it in his face; for those who didn’t, he saw it in their eyes. Like his nursemaids, as he passed his fifth birthday-- ‘the third young master,’ they whispered when they thought he was sleeping. ‘the war changed him--’ And then there were the anguished maidens who brandished that word on their tongue like a barbed whip as they ran off with tears down their cheeks. Siyuan would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t affected by those incidents--he would also be lying if he claimed to have dwelled on them for long. 'Cold’ wasn’t an assessment he agreed with, but it occurred so often that it was now in line with expectations for such perception to be interpreted as truth.
He hadn’t realized how deep it would cleave, hearing that accusation from someone he loved.
Siyuan’s mind was brewing with such tumultuous thoughts when, in his distraction, he collided against someone’s back.
The figure before him shared a similar stature. Siyuan’s gaze dragged up his black-clothed torso when the boy finally turned around and revealed his face. He seemed around Siyuan’s age, with sturdy features. He was not a Nie, as Siyuan would have recognized him with one glance--most likely a Wei, a fellow disciple attending this year’s inter-sect lectures at Lotus Pier.
Whether intentionally or not, this boy was blocking the entry way to the very lecture hall they were to attend.
Normally, Siyuan would discern this situation for what it was: the boy was standing by the entryway, but Siyuan was also spacing out. He was as much responsible for the collision as the other; as such, Siyuan should hold no ire, and even offer the usual courtesy as proper and deserved for a fellow disciple upon initial meeting. However, such judgement required the luxury of a clear head, and unfortunately for this boy, Siyuan’s mind was storming with dark clouds.
“Move aside.” Siyuan’s gaze was sharp ice, his tone harsh and blunt. “You’re in my way.”
@xxliufang
