[ open post: Lan Wangji and guests ]

[lightbearinglord]

In the wake of his disorienting and unpleasant stint in Gu Xiang's body, Lan Wangji has done his utmost to resume and enjoy all of his usual pursuits. He has, he believes, thoroughly made up for his lapse in his promise to Wei Ying. He has wielded kitchen knives, his ink brush, and Bichen with precision and enthusiasm. He has sunk into long, restorative shichen of meditation. He has, at Claudius' behest, thoroughly perused Emily Post's instructions regarding how to conduct oneself as the best man at a wedding.

There is the matter of his qin, too. The discovery of the spirit in Gideon's sword struck Lan Wangji with greater surprise than he might have expected. Such things were once commonplace for him; he hardly went two weeks, before he came to this place, without finding himself called to some night-hunt. He does not like to believe that he could become complacent, and he has always practiced diligently, but still.

The tableau is a familiar one: a certain parlor near the entryway of the mansion, one that often houses this particular cultivator along with his spiritual instrument. Wangji is balanced on a table at the center of the room, polished black wood gleaming and strings freshly tuned, and Lan Wangji sits cross-legged before it. He is not actually playing it at this precise moment, however, because he currently has guests. A small white rabbit sits next to the qin, munching his way through a piece of lettuce. An equally small brown rabbit is perched in the crook of Lan Wangji's elbow, eyeing his brother with some envy. Ostensibly, the rabbits are in trouble, because they have recently laid waste to Lan Wangji's copy of Emma. It is impossible to tell, because Lan Wangji is petting Danding's head with exactly as much solemn focus as always.

Comments

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji watches the movements of Galahad's sketching with subdued interest. He is also uncertain how to answer this question. It may well be that most are like Laertes and Sagramore, free with their affections and open with others about that fact. That scenario is more palatable than a world of crude, grasping men like Jin Guangshan. He thinks of his own father. No one could accuse Qingheng-jun of lacking devotion. "If it is," he says, "then I am uncommon."

[onthewillowsthere]

It's a satisfying enough answer. Lan Wangji is uncommon, and so is Galahad. He shades the halo in.

[lightbearinglord]

For a moment or two longer, Lan Wangji continues to observe silently as Galahad works. He recognizes his own likeness, even upside-down, and allows himself to indulge in the memory of a fifteen-year-old Wei Ying presenting him with a drawing of himself, a flower behind his ear.

Curious, he holds up a hand, mimicking the gesture that the drawing is making. "What is that?"

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad copies it as well, reflexively. "It's the name of Christ. Saints make it in pictures."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji considers this as he tucks his hand away, setting it at Danding's back. "It is like a mudra." He looks again at Galahad's sketch, noting the halo around Xiaoxue's head. Uncle would not like this. Lan Wangji should not, either, but he thinks he does.

[onthewillowsthere]

"This is blasphemous," he says, touching the page very lightly. "God would be disappointed."

[lightbearinglord]

At that, Lan Wangji looks up, his gaze settling on Galahad's face instead of his art. "This is the god who punished humankind for acquiring knowledge of good and evil."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes. Because we ate of the fruit."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's brows draw together, a minute but distinct frown. "And this god has power enough to punish all of humanity?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"He is all-powerful."

[lightbearinglord]

The frown persists, his mouth setting in a hard line as he turns this over in his mind. "That is difficult for me to believe."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes," quietly. "He is powerful, but even in scripture it is written: Then he took his eldest son that should have reigned in his stead, and offered him for a burnt offering upon the wall. And there was great indignation against Israel: and they departed from him, and returned to their own land. His chosen people are defeated by the God of the Moabites. I think He has power only over the people who worship Him." He pauses. "That is also blasphemy."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji keeps his gaze trained on Galahad's face. Whether this is or is not blasphemy has no bearing on him, because he doesn't believe it is true, but it is very clear that it is true to Galahad. "If worship gives this god power, why is he cruel to those who worship him?"

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad, for his part, does not drop his eyes from Lan Wangji's. He betrays no emotion. It feels like being tested on his catechism to be asked these questions, except that Galahad sees God differently from the way he did as a boy, and instead of reciting back the answers he learned and memorized he's telling Lan Wangji his own beliefs, citing scripture when it's relevant.

"Sometimes God tests our faith. The book of Job tells how God and His Adversary argued and the Adversary challenged God, saying that His faithful servant Job was only faithful because of the blessings God had heaped upon him. God allowed the Adversary to take those blessings -- to slay his livestock, blight his fields, murder his children, and steal his health, and leave only his life. Job's wife counsels him to renounce God. His friends tell him it must be his own sin that has led to his suffering. But Job tells how he is innocent, and good, and though he longs to confront God and speak on his own behalf, he will not curse God. Finally God speaks to him and tells him that he cannot understand God's reasoning because he is only a man. No man has the ability to know what God knows or discern why He chooses what He does. Job is humble and repents. God is angry with Job's friends for their presumptuous and ignorant counsel, but Job intercedes for them, and God chooses to spare them. He then gives Job back twice as much as he took from him before."

Galahad pauses.

"This story teaches us many things. It teaches that we cannot understand God's choices, and that He may inflict suffering upon us for reasons beyond our knowing. It teaches us that if we remain faithful in the face of suffering, we will be rewarded. And it teaches us that God is not unfeeling; He hears our intercessions and He may choose to be graceful with those for whom we plead.

"It also teaches us that God can be provoked by His enemy," he continues, as quiet and even as always. "He will permit misfortune to befall someone who loves Him if it proves his loyalty. He is easily angered, and changeable."

[lightbearinglord]

Galahad's stony face, the evenness and surety of his words, are so like Lan Wangji himself -- or, at least, so like the boy that Lan Wangji once was. He was his uncle's brightest and most dutiful pupil. Lan Qiren could call on him with any question, in any class, and Lan Wangji could stand and answer just like this, back straight and words measured.

He listens, utterly focused. The rabbits are settling, tucking their limbs under themselves, in his lap. They seem to find Galahad a soothing presence, perhaps because they are so used to being with Lan Wangji. The story itself is horrific, another tale of a god who exerts power through dispensation of pain and inscrutable tests. Suffering is necessary, and a part of the ebbing, flowing balance of the universe, but it need not be meted out in this way, as if humans are helpless children who must be cowed and, at once, forces for evil who cannot find their way without punishment.

Lan Wangji's frown has cleared, leaving his own features icy-smooth again, but there is a little hint of how troubling he finds this when he speaks. "Must the universe be ordered by one changeable god? The breath of Heaven is no different from the breath of men."

[onthewillowsthere]

"We exist in communion with God, and are made in His image, but we cannot be the same. All things come from Him and are ordered by Him, and though He has set us in dominion over His other creations we are still subordinate to Him. He is perfect, and we are imperfect. We are sinful and He is without sin. We are mortal unless we are reborn in Him to life everlasting." He tilts his head very slightly. "And yet. Magnus's father is another kind of god. Gideon's order serves a god who can be killed by a special weapon. Claudius says there is a god here now. Even in scripture it is written thou shalt have no other gods before me. The church teaches that there is only one God, but I now believe that must be incorrect."

[lightbearinglord]

It is tempting to note that a being who allowed the murder of children when he could have prevented it sounds far from perfect or sinless. Wei Ying would never be able to resist. Even Lan Wangji finds himself biting his tongue, a rare necessity for him. "It must be," he agrees grimly. "I know of many gods, but not this god. I know of no god who supercedes the Tao."

[onthewillowsthere]

"What is that?"

[lightbearinglord]

He might have expected this question, and yet Lan Wangji feels a tiny unfurling of surprise. "It is the natural order of the universe. I have spoken of qi to you. Qi is the energy underlying all of existence. The Tao is what orders it and keeps it harmonious."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Will you tell me more?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Something mysteriously formed, born before Heaven and Earth," Lan Wangji says, his own calm and precise recitation. "In the silence and the void, standing alone and unchanging, ever present and in motion. Perhaps it is the mother of ten thousand things. I do not know its name: call it Tao.¹"

¹This is specifically the Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English translation of the Tao Te Ching.

[onthewillowsthere]

"It is a presence?" He doesn't entirely understand, but he sits attentively, back perfectly straight.

[lightbearinglord]

"In a sense. It is impossible to define, by its nature." Lan Wangji considers how best to phrase this. Danding's chin is tucked against his knee, and Xiaoxue is quietly grooming himself. "Everything flows from it. Qi, yin and yang, beauty and ugliness, strength and weakness."

[onthewillowsthere]

"That is like the Holy Spirit."

[lightbearinglord]

"The Holy Spirit?" Lan Wangji prompts.