Frozen Out Of Time.

White Ice

Mother. Mother was dead. 

The refrain echoed endlessly in Lan Zhan's mind. He had cried himself to sleep in his weeping brother's arms the night that Uncle had told them bluntly that she was "Gone" and they did not need to go back to her cottage again. It was as straightforward as if he had announced another rule to memorize. Less passionately than if he had just mentioned the death of their aging gardener. More concerned about them acting like perfect Lan than grieving sons. They hid their grief as best they could, but they snuck away together one afternoon and carved a memorial tablet in a pretty piece of teakwood. Simple. The word Mother across the top and Beloved was carved down the center. They secreted a small but deep dish and filled it with silt and small rocks from a nearby stream and snuck a box of sandalwood incense sticks to burn in it when others were not around. 

Lan XiChen tried hard to divert attention from Lan Zhan's deepening grief since it seemed to increasingly irritate their uncle. But the second time he went back and sat on the porch at her cottage waiting for their monthly visit, the older man lost his temper and caned the small, straight back with five strong strokes. Lan Xi Chen applied ointment to the stripes but knew the child would not stop. His brother was stubborn and constant when devoted to someone. And he loved their mother with near adoration. The solemn boy lit up when he saw her each visit and he would not stop waiting for her return.  Lan XiChen ended up convincing the younger boy to change the date of his vigil by a day or two so that his uncle's "assistants" who reported his arrival on those days, would be fooled. He even kept watching on the new nights to try a divert these men if they got too close

 Then one late afternoon, a frigid afternoon in the middle of a heavy snowstorm, the worst thing happened that their young minds could have imagined. They were summoned before their uncle. He was seated at his desk, and he was furious. Lying on the desk was a brazier and on the brazier was the teak memorial for their mother. 

"Beloved. Beloved? How could a disgraceful harpy, living in virtual imprisonment be considered beloved in any respect? How dare you honor a woman like her? Lan Zhan, I am used to your persistent disobedience in this matter, but Lan XiChen, you? Kneel before me, Lan XiChen. And you, stand and watch. From now on, any mention of that woman, any attempt to remember her birthdate or the date of her death, any pathetic memorials in her honor. will be met with punishment. And I will make Lan XiChen face that punishment as you stand present. Am I understood?"

Lan XiChen bowed his head in assent, but he uttered one last protest. "You may beat us into obedience, but remember, it will never change the fact that she was our mother. We will always love her. She will always be beloved. Lan Zhan should have the right to wait for her as long as he wants."

"Is that so? Is that your determination then? You are the most promising young cultivator we have, and you concede to his sad little need? Fine, then. Watch Lan Zhan. And realize that his punishment is your fault."

Uncle poured an accelerant over the tablet on the grill and touched a taper to it. The small piece of wood, the only evidence of their mother's existence began to char, flames leaping and crackling. Dimly, the hypnotized child stared and listened to the muffled moans of his brother as the cane thudded against his back. He turned in time to see the trail of a tear on his brother's cheek shimmering in the light of the small fire.

And he screamed.

Screamed as loud as he could.

 Stopped the blows with the terror in his small voice.

 He screamed a third time as he felt his clear and honest soul tear apart, felt himself falling, falling into the sudden crevasse and disappearing. His Uncle stared at him. Lan XiChen, who sensed the sudden rift within his brother, began to sob in helpless fear. Lan Zhan whirled around and began beating the flames out on his mother's memorial. He experienced no pain, just the thrill of doing SOMETHING to help, anything to control a bit of the horror he was watching. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as he lifted the tablet and ran from the room. Everything was caving in on him, burying him deep beneath pieces of his emotional rubble. Rubble, upon which 3000 different, intractable rules were carved. He clasped the tablet's remains in front of his heavy winter tunic and embraced the searing warmth as he ran from the building and blended quickly into the perfect white of the coming night.

It was two hours before several acolytes found him, lying nearly covered in a snowbank, his small hands desperately clutching the charred tablet which he had plunged into the bank to extinguish the flames. He was unconscious and hypothermic. And barely alive.

He did not wake up that day, nor the next, nor the next. Lan XiChen stayed by his side, talking, singing, and playing his flute. And he refused to speak to his uncle each time he came to check on the child, pale and still as if carved out of frozen, pure white ice.

Sometimes he would ask, his ten-year-old heart sick and sad, "Where are you, my little Zhan? Where have you gone? When will you come back to me?"

There was never an answer and Lan Xi Chen, his faith in his uncle gone, was truly alone for the first time in his life. One day, when Uncle came for his dutiful visit, he asked his nephew if there was anything he could do, to ease his burden and help with the boy's ceaseless vigil. He finally spoke to the man.

"Yes, if you have not finished the job you started, I want you to return what remains of my mother's memorial. If it is gone, then leave us alone."

An hour later, an acolyte entered with a packet wrapped in white silk brocade. He removed the material reverently and the tablet, blackened around the edges, was still proudly readable. Mother, Beloved. He kissed it and tucked it under Lan Zhan's unresponsive arm.

"Please, Master Lan Xi Chen, your uncle wishes to know if you will join him for dinner."

"Please express my regrets but I am planning on eating with my brother. He is still resting."

"He also wished to inquire when you would be willing to start your cultivation classes again."

Lan Xi Chen laughed lightly but his soft brown eyes turned cold as obsidian.

"Please inform him I am suspending my cultivation classes until my brother returns."

He waved the acolyte away.

"Now little Lan Zhan, where were we? Oh yes. You won, silly boy. You saved our tablet. Please return soon return. I will make a shrine right here and burn our... her... sandalwood incense until you awaken and do it yourself."

He brushed a tear away. "But please hurry back. I am quite lonely right now." 

B