It was a festive night. 

Cold snowflakes tumbled from the dark skies, shimmering like stars as they blessed the people dancing under the lantern lights. Crimson banners fluttered in the breeze, adorned with blessings of prosperity and good fortune. The rhythm of drums and flutes sang in the streets as colourful robes swirled in the wind like paint strokes on a canvas. Pedestrians weaved through the throngs of people, their voices merging into a symphony of laughter and chatter. The delicious sticky smell of skewers and yóutiáo grilling at the vendors' stalls made them salivate and indulge. 

The bustling streets were alive with energy, vibrant and dynamic under the soft glow of the city. Some children were running around with handheld fireworks, dodging adult legs and screaming in delight, their laughter ringing like bells.

A commotion broke. Whispers erupted and the crowd parted. Their eyes strayed, heavy and shining with curiosity.

The pudgy hand of a merchant was wrapped around a struggling child's arm, roughly shaking him and spitting in his face. The young one immediately stuffed his cheeks full of the steaming dumpling he was holding, mindless of the burning pain. His hazel eyes were wide and afraid. "You filthy rat!" Belowed the man. Grabbing the child's bulging cheeks in one wide hand, he gripped tightly in an effort to open the full mouth. "Spit that out!" The kid immediately swallowed around the food, eyes burning from the scalding heat and the adult shaking him violently. 

A vein popped in the man's eye and he straightened up, grabbing the kid by his long hair and dragging him out to a guardpost. Seeing them leave, the small crowd that gathered around them disinterested themselves and turned back to their songs.

Much arguing was held between the soldiers and the furious vendor, and all the while the child was clawing at the hands holding him. Little white puffs of scared breaths were breaking off his body and yet, he said nothing.

The arguing stopped, and the man handed him to the guards who took out some thin ropes and tied his hands together. As he was dragged away, protestingly dragging his naked feet against the ground, he heard the vendor's laughter. His gut twisted, and a wet feeling started to overwhelm his throat.

They passed by a crowd of dancers, and the spectator's cheers stabbed him in the heart. The snow was cold.

He felt tugging on his bound hands and looked back up at the man holding him, who was tightly wrapping a string around the base of his pinkie, cutting off the blood circulation. The kid immediately tried camping his bleeding feet on the ground, renewing his efforts to break free. He was however too small to do much but graze the pavements, and quickly resorted to kicking the guards' chin. He was promptly hoisted up by his tied hands, shoulders straining uncomfortably and tearing a grunt from his stinging throat. "We take no pleasure from this, child. But this is the law." 

Tears pearled up in his eyes, cascading down his cheeks and washing away months-old grime on its path down his face.

A hand shot out from the dark to stop the guards' walks, long fingers holding a heavy pouch against one's chest plate. "This one will pay," said the hooded figure.

The guards looked at each other, then smirked and thrust the young one onto the third man. "We are pleased to see there are still honourable people around these parts. We wish you much fun with it!" They jeered, walking off with the money.

As they left, the other man lowered his hood and knelt in front of the child, revealing long shiny hair pulled into a ponytail and upturned, smiling eyes. He didn't look a day older than sixteen, barely an adult. He gently held out his hand. "Would you let me look at this?" He asked, looking pointedly to the hands the kid was desperately trying to free. Looking suspicious but desperate, the small one held out his arms. The man took his right hand in his and started unwinding the string cutting off his finger's circulation. Gently massaging off the flesh with one hand, he searched around in his sleeve with the other and brought out a half-eaten roasted sweet potato. He put it in the child's hand.

As the other was quick to bite on the food, he untied the bruised hands and straightened up. Still crouched, he put his fists on his knee and looked down. After a while, he spoke again.

"I can give you more if you would allow me to."

The child stopped, face down and eyes raised in scepticism. "Why?" He croaked. 

The white-clad man silently mused for a minute, the crease between his eyebrows making the mourning band on his forehead shift. He sighed, lowering his raised leg and kneeling back in the snow. "I come from a marginal cultivation Sect. Our Cultivation path forbids us from having children, and so the Path's legacy is passed down through the adoption of young ones."

The young one perked up. "Cultivation?" He asked, wonder filling his voice. He heard of the mythical tales before: of heroes reaching immortality through arts and fighting off monsters during their famed Night Hunts. The other nodded. "Our Sect is East from this village, on the continent's coast. Beautiful birds are singing in the morning, endless waves lulling you to sleep with many kids to play with, and plenty of food to eat." 

Seeing he had the child's attention, he smiled softly, and held out his hand once again, palm up. "I am Bái Huān, courtesy name Jīnpéng. You can call me Gēge if you'd like. What is your name?" 

The young boy became shy all of a sudden, lowering his eyes and cheeks colouring. "This one is A-Yǔ, Gēge. I'm six!" He spurted out, holding out five fingers. He stared at a rapidly blinking Bái Jīnpéng for a second, before the younger's face brightened up. "Oh! A-Yǔ have a gift for Cultivator-Gēge!" He fidgeted a bit, rummaging in his rattled robe before holding out his hand and putting down a small object in the man's waiting hand. Jīnpéng stared down silently at the very ordinary rock sitting on his palm. Then, he closed his fist and stored it away in the qiankun pouch tied to his belt. It will most assuredly join the countless other questionable but nonetheless special gifts the Sect's children gave him on his already quite full shelves.

His smile softened more.

"Thank you for the gift, young master. Would you like to head down to your new home now or enjoy the festivities with me?" He asked before standing back up and holding his hand out.

The child's face brightened up, and A-Yǔ ignored the hand to grab onto the cultivator's sleeve. "Home, please!"

His face looking brightly down at the child, Jīnpéng redirected the small hand into his fingers. So polite, he marvelled at A-Yǔ's words. "Home it is, then."

The Sect was built upon a small island barely a few kilometres offshore, tall and in a curious mushroom-shape that made it impossible to accost by sea.

As such, they had to fly.

"Faster!" Urged A-Yǔ, gripped tight in his shīxiōng's arms as they soared through the sky, perched on a sword's blade. Bái Jīnpéng smirked and pressed his forefoot upon his blade's middle, tilting it down. As they pummelled down in the direction of the waves, the young child screaming with laughter, his arms loose and held up above his head.

Bái Jīnpéng straightened them abruptly a few inches away from the water. The older one suddenly grabbed him by the feet with a playful roar, and dangled him upside down over the sea, prompting hysterical giggles and letting him graze the foam with his little fingers before pulling him back up, immediately picking up speed and altitude. "Again!" Shrieked A-Yǔ. Bái Jīnpéng indulged him. Again, and again, his smile radiant at the child's delighted noises.

He stopped only when his face started to get a bit green, settling him back on his hip and slowing their pace to a leisurely one. "We will have to find you a name." He mused aloud, gently rubbing the panting back. 

"I already have a name! I'm A-Yǔ! I'm 6!" Pipped A-Yǔ, flinging his hand in front of his face to proudly show him his five fingers again. At that, Bái Jīnpéng chuckled, peeling the hand away from his nose.

"I know child, but wouldn't it feel nice to have a family name?"

A-Yǔ seemed to ponder the matter for a second. "Then I know the one!" He exclaimed, before abruptly growing quiet, wrapping his arms around the older's neck and snuggling his face in his throat. He looked up shyly from his eyelashes, twirling the end of Bái Jīnpéng's red mourning band between his fingers. The older one jostled him playfully. "And what would be this oh-so-fitting name?"

It seemed the child only needed little prompting, for he detached himself from the other's neck and spread his arms wide in the wind. His hair was wild and whipped around his sun-kissed face.

"I'm Bái Yǔ!"

His face sang confidence, but his eyes held a faint hint of uncertainty, scrutinising the older teen's face for traces of anger at the assumption. Bái Jīnpéng was well versed in these signs, and softened his face, chest constricting at the child's trust. The older one bowed his head in greeting.

"It's an honour to make your acquaintance, Young Master Bái."

The answering smile made his heart soar.

The first weeks were difficult. While Bái Yǔ was infinitely grateful to be out of the street and have a family, he struggled to understand authority and to respect his elders. Sitting still in class was a bore and he was disruptive, often found wandering around searching for his Huān-Gēge or tittering in the library, watching the illustrations in whatever book he found.

That is where his teacher found him, after class was dismissed and Bái Yǔ didn't come back to his desk after being asked to meditate outside for a bit. Gāo Háorán made sure to make noise as he came up behind the child, intending not to scare him. He bent over his student's shoulder: "What are you looking at, child?"

Bái Yǔ squealed in fright, flinging the book behind his head in the same breath, hitting his teacher in the abdomen and making him keel over with a grunt. The older man groaned, "Bái Yǔ…"

Realising his mistake, Bái Yǔ jumped from his seat to kowtow in commiseration. "I'm sorry, Gāo-lǎoshī!"

The teacher sighed, bending down to take the younger hands in his and lift him from his kneeling. "Do not fret, child. This Elder surprised you, you will not be admonished." The older man bent back down to readjust the child's crooked red mourning band.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two before Bái Yǔ remembered his manner, and offered his teacher a cushion at the reading table. As the child was just settling back into his seat, Gāo Háorán questioned him: "What is keeping you from focusing in my class?"

Bái Yǔ's body froze in his fidgeting, eyes wide. He put his hands on the table and leaned his weight on it, raising back on his feet and putting his face inappropriately close to his teacher's. "Your class is wonderful, Lǎoshī!" He exclaimed, much to the others' dismay. Gāo Háorán put his wrinkled hands on the child's shoulder, pushing him back down on his heels. "Not so close, child. I am fond of you, but we are not family." 

"I apologise, Lǎoshī."

A long-suffering sigh shook the Elder's body. "No more of that. I am requesting an honest answer from you: what is keeping you from concentrating on the class? You are a bright child and highly motivated, is it because of the sudden change? You answer most pointed questions correctly but stay silent with broader ones… What is the matter?"

Seeing the child's overwhelmed face and rapidly filling eyes, Gāo Háorán grimaced and raised himself from his kneel. He held out a hand. "Come, child. We are getting your brother."

They walked in an uncomfortable silence for a while through the wooden paths linking the multiple buildings together, before reaching a wide courtyard where teen disciples were training under the instructions of Bái Jīnpéng. Noticing his new little brother with his teacher, the young cultivator gave the class' lead to an older student and trotted to them, his usual wide smile soothing Bái Yǔ a bit.

Bái Jīnpéng bowed first to his Elder, then turned to greet his brother. 

"Would you have time to mediate a discussion with Bái Yǔ and me? It won't take long" Gāo Háorán asked.

Bái Jīnpéng nodded, brows furrowing. He walked them to a bench overlooking the training courtyard and sat down to discuss the matter. At some point, Bái Yǔ ended up on his brother's lap, face burrowed in his robe and hand clutching his dress, bravely explaining he didn't know how to study and felt behind his other peers in terms of general cultivation knowledge. Some of them even were in the Third Stage of their Core Formation while he barely started the First! 

As Bái Jīnpéng was rubbing Bái Yǔ's back, congratulating him on expressing himself, Gāo Háorán mused on what to say. Finally, he asked for Bái Yǔ to look at him, and took his hands between his.

"This Elder can't pretend to know what you are feeling, but he remembers being this young and wanting to reach the milestones ahead of him. I know you won't understand the full crux of what I will say to you today, but please retain this: Cultivation is different for everyone. Do you remember on your first day when I said it was an individual path taken by people?" He waited for a nod from the dispirited child, then continued.

"I know you like metaphors, so I will illustrate my point: when I say Cultivation is a path, I mean it quite literally. It is a Path through life that some people choose to take because it fulfils them in some way. There are different junctions and intersections on these spiritual roads, and different challenges that can be as scary as they can be exciting. Whether you choose to take time on these trials or whether you are forced to slow your pace to properly overcome them does not make you any less of a good cultivator."

He raised one hand and gently caressed Bái Yǔ's cheek, wiping it and smiling at the young one nuzzling his wrist. "Cultivation is an individual Path taken by people who want to do better for the World. As long as you work on yourself, and look to better the universe and its creations, you are enough."

The child burst into relieved tears.

After this, Bái Yǔ's integration into the Sect went more smoothly. His teacher made sure to integrate different methods of learning and concentration in his class, and Bái Jīnpéng took time out of his day to pick up the kids and wear them out through instructive plays and allow their pent-up energy to be properly spent before sitting lessons. He was also taken regularly to the Sect's Healing quarters, to speak with the Assistant about his troubles, without the fear of having his thoughts overheard by people he was close to. 

Passing his shyness, he made quick friends with the other students and revealed a somewhat mischievous mind. Outside of his classes, he could often be found running away chased by bemused teenagers and Elders after pulling one of his stunts. 

His Core formed within a year, and the congratulating party held for the occasion by his Huān-Gēge, his multiple shīdì and Shīmèi properly settled his love for the Sect.

During his tenth year, one of his shīxiōng died.

Bái Yǔ wasn't particularly close to him, but seeing the somber Funerary Procession come back after a Night Hunt instead of the usual proud and boastful party felt like a hit. 

He understood then what his teacher told him about Cultivation being a Path, and came to the conclusion that reaching milestones didn't matter if life could end so quickly. At the end of the day, navigating the Path was much more important than piling achievements.

This incident also filled him with rage. And for the first time in his life, it wasn't for him. How dare the monster take one of his brothers away?

Six years later, on the day he was declared an adult and his red mourning band was changed to a white one, he was handed a new name that would symbolise his ambitions to build himself to greatness, to protect and nurture. A name that caressed his face, slipped under his eyes and nestled into his heart with a fierce, joyful jump.

On his sixteenth anniversary, Bái Yǔ, the new Second Disciple of the Blood-Bending, Ghostly Huái Niàn Sect was named Bái Jiānwēi.