It was shortly after dawn, and the birds had already begun chirping at the first emergence of light. At this particular time, most living beings would rise and go on about their days, following a specific routine varying from species for animals, and clans for most cultivators. Young disciples would begin their daily duties, and prepare for their combat-important training sessions. Their whole purpose would often depend on those swordsmanship abilities and strengthening their golden cores.
Specifically in a very renowned Clan of Gusu, the disciples dressed in white shades and were mainly distinguished by the meaningful headband tied around their forehead. These young cultivators had already risen long before dawn. That was, after all, the Lan Clan's strict routine.
Nevertheless, the disciples were determined and resilient, prepared to start a new day even before the sunlight rays lightened up the ethereal Cloud Recesses, a residence situated on a distant mountain outside of Gusu.
Nevertheless, while this same feeling of determination and hope was gradually growing in the young pupils, it was faltering in others.
The older cultivator dressed in light blue shades was currently sitting at the small wooden table inside the Room of Silence, his fingers loosely wrapped around the porcelain cup of tea that he had poured himself earlier. He was sitting with a firm posture, but his body had been immobile for god knows how long. Although his eyes were clearly open, indicating that he was at least conscious and awake, they were narrowed, tired, unfocused, and seemingly gazing at nothing in particular. They seemed dead as if something within him had died.
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He was solely stirred and pulled out of his trance when a familiar and gentle voice called out his name, causing him to glance to the side a little. The current leader of the Gusu Lan Clan, also known as Zewu-Jun, was standing by the door with a hesitant expression. He was uncertain about whether he should bother him considering his lately reflective demeanor, but he could not hold back his uneasiness.
Upon not hearing an answer, the elder brother gave himself the right to enter the Jinghsi room (Quiet room), Lan Wangji's bedroom. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he set eyes on his younger brother's current state.
"Wangji..."
Lan Xichen called out again, noticing how the other's eyes slowly gazed back at the cup of tea in his hand. It was not the first time that he had seen him in such a low state, which most likely indicated that he had gotten that same dream again. Lan Wangji's elder brother was the only one who knew about it since no one else had been granted the same amount of trust by Wangji. At least, no one else who was alive or not missing.
Lan Xichen let out a small but audible sigh as he kept gazing at his brother.
"It has been three years ever since..." he started off, and slowly proceeded to sit down at the low table as well, joining Lan Wangji for tea, but without the tea itself.
