It's on the tip of his tongue to agree, because he knows xiao Jedao's right. Knows that this is at least some of what he probably needs to fix before the Admiral will allow him to graduate. On the tip of his tongue, but the words never make it out, because xiao Jedao's phrasing stops him in his tracks.
Not for him, but with him. "With you?" he asks quietly.
Shen Wei dips his chin, gaze fixed on his hands where they're folded on his lap. "It's always easier-" Safer= "To be angry on behalf of others," he observes quietly.
He keeps his gaze lowered for a moment longer before looking back up at xiao Jedao, expression solemn and eyes a little too bright. "Thank you. For caring." Not just because he has to as his warden, but for actually caring.
"I know. I'll tell you about some of my things later. But I want you to be able to be angry on your own behalf, too. And, hey, the first time is going to be the hardest," he points out.
"I still don't really care for the idea, though," he admits. "But I suppose we'll see, given I don't really have anything to be angry about." Other than the Admiral trapping him here, but he deserved it, after all.
He comes back with traditional rice paper, brush, and inkstone. He sets them out.
"Here's the thing, Shen Wei. If you're going to let yourself feel anger, you are going to have to break the association between letting yourself even acknowledge it ever, and being forced to acknowledge it because it's become so devastating that you can't deny it anymore. Between just feeling it and acting on it, before you even worry about acting on it controlled versus uncontrolled.
"So we're going to start with you writing a letter to someone, anyone, who did something that fucked you up or fucked you over. You're going to write to them and say that they were wrong, and you're mad, and why. Just because you write it doesn't mean you ever have to send it. But you're going to think about it in your own quiet heart, and then write it down in the world. You have half an hour for this essay, your time starts now."
Shen Wei listens as xiao Jedao as he explains his... well, his assignment, his expression shifting from curiosity to bafflement, before slowly closing off into calm blankness. He understands what's expected, of course, it's not complicated, but it feels... not overwhelming, but exceedingly difficult. It also feels like something he can't refuse.
"Yes. Of course," he agrees evenly, though he sits very still for a few long, steady breaths, hands resting lightly on his knees, expression blank, before he slides gracefully to his knees in front of the coffee table, his robes pooling around him as he settles his center of gravity comfortably for writing. With the air of a familiar ritual, he pours just the right amount of water into the hollow of the stone, then grinds the ink stick into it until he's achieved the right consistency and opacity before guiding it to pool in the hollow of the stone.
It's a few more seconds before he lifts the brush, dips it into the ink, and begins to write in smooth, elegant strokes that appear completely effortless, in a way that only years of perfect practice and incredible control can achieve. He knows as he begins writing, that, while he's complying with the letter of the assignment, he is not complying with its spirit. But this is where he can find some modicum of comfort in starting.
And so he addresses a very formal letter to the long dead leader of the Rebel Army, expressing his great anger at the man for casting him off the the cliff for defending his twin, and then stealing him away and tormenting him for years,and for compounding the devastation the meteor had brought to their world by setting Dixingren against their Haixingren and Yashouren brothers. Once he begins it doesn't take long, and after a total of twenty-three minutes in total he blows gently across the paper and pushes it towards xiao Jedao. The page is almost completely filled with beautiful calligraphy... in perfect Mandarin.
"My apologies," he murmurs, head bowed. "I am most comfortable writing in Mandarin these days."
Jedao putters a bit around his quarters - he waters his plants, does a few dishes, spares Shen Wei from the relentlessness of being observed while he writes, only checking in every few minutes. He sits back down when he sees Shen Wei drying the ink, and gives him a small smile for engaging with the exercise at all.
"That's fine," he says, sliding the page back toward Shen Wei. "You'll just have to read it to me."
He looks up, startled for a moment and then resigned. He'd half thought that perhaps xiao Jedao might use the library's translating devices, but this makes a great deal more sense, he supposes. Both for convenience and for the point of the exercise.
"Of course." He seems to say that a lot to xiao Jedao. He suppresses the urge to sigh and, rather than picking the paper up, simply recites from memory.
"To the Most Despised, Cowardly, and Execrable Leader of the Rebellion Forces-"
There follows, in a steady, controlled voice, a point by point recitation of the many and varied reasons Shen Wei is still angry with the man to this day, both in his own behalf and those of his twin and his people. He does not, at the end, apologize for adhering to the letter if the exercise while perhaps flaunting its spirit, though he feels perhaps he should, he simply sits, hands on his knees, expression mild and awaits xiao Jedao's critique
"I want you to think back to the time this was happening. See his face in your mind. The pain and the fear and the horrible trapped knowledge that you couldn't say shit about it -"
Shen Wei's eyes fly open immediately at the instruction, and for a fraction of a second there's something very like panic in the widening of his eyes before his expression smooths into perfect blankness.
He's silent for a moment, and perfectly still, breathing even and heartrate steady, before he murmurs, "I would rather not, thank you," in a perfectly even and utterly inflectionless voice.
Jedao watches him very, very closely. He tilts his head, considering.
"I still think you should do it," he says softly. "Because the truth is, he can't hurt you anymore. You're not trapped. So think about it, and read your letter again."
"That, perhaps," he points out with the same level, inflectionless voice, "Is part of the problem. I did yell at him, I did order he not touch didi. I... did lose my temper and give voice to my anger." And he was hoisted into the air like so much refuse and thrown from the top of the plateau, surviving only because of the passing healing power he had already picked up by then.
"And I have relived that moment over and over and over." He stops for a moment to breathe calmly through the boil of emotion he doesn't wish to acknowledge. "In every possible variation. That I somehow manifested a combat power I didn't Learn until years later and bested him. That I did not lose consciousness when I fell and managed to follow him and steal didi away. Even that I managed to murder him in his sleep, and save all our peoples so much pain and loss.
"I would very much rather not insert myself into that memory again."
"The point isn't what you could or couldn't have done. The point is that you're not a child anymore. What happened then couldn't have gone happily, but it can't happen now. So. Are you going to do what I told you to do, or not?"
Or is he going to tell Jedao - who is hurting him, who knows he's playing with fire, pressing hard on an old broken bone - that it's wrong of him to demand it. He doesn't have to go back there - but he has to get angry at someone.
Shen Wei opens his eyes and stares at him, blank and steady. "Do you think I don't know I'm no longer that child? Do you think I have any doubt that my anger was, and is, completely justified?" he demands flatly. "And do you think I am so naive as to not see what you are doing, in attempting to draw my ire to yourself?"
"I think that, for you, justified isn't enough. It doesn't matter what's justified, it doesn't even matter what you think at all, if it feels so unsafe you can't bear to touch it."
He narrows his eyes, jaw tight.
"And I've been as unsubtle as I dared. I would hope you're getting it."
His own eyes narrow as well, and if he had the capability yet, it would take all his focus not to swathe himself in the robes and mask of his office, to draw the Envoy's cold, detached distance around himself along with his cloak.
"Do you wish to to know what I feel when I'm forced to revisit that memory?" he asks, his voice, if anything, even flatter than before. "It's certainly anger. Anger that the stupidity and impulsive bravado of a child destroyed so many lives in little more than a moment. I was foolish enough to challenge a grown man with blood on his hands, as if there were anything I could do against him, and I lost my brother to misery and torture, and cursed the world to yet another war between Dixing and Haixing that need never have happened." And that didn't just kill himself and his twin, and countless others, but left Zhao Yunlan trapped, burning in eternal agony, in the Lantern.
He has a great deal of anger for that foolish child.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Not for him, but with him.
"With you?" he asks quietly.
no subject
"Anger is...hard for me, too. But I'm so angry at them, for what they did to you," Jedao says quietly.
no subject
He keeps his gaze lowered for a moment longer before looking back up at xiao Jedao, expression solemn and eyes a little too bright. "Thank you. For caring." Not just because he has to as his warden, but for actually caring.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He gives Shen Wei's wrist another squeeze, then stands.
"I'm going to grab something from my study, I'll be back in just a second."
no subject
"Of course," he agrees.
no subject
"Here's the thing, Shen Wei. If you're going to let yourself feel anger, you are going to have to break the association between letting yourself even acknowledge it ever, and being forced to acknowledge it because it's become so devastating that you can't deny it anymore. Between just feeling it and acting on it, before you even worry about acting on it controlled versus uncontrolled.
"So we're going to start with you writing a letter to someone, anyone, who did something that fucked you up or fucked you over. You're going to write to them and say that they were wrong, and you're mad, and why. Just because you write it doesn't mean you ever have to send it. But you're going to think about it in your own quiet heart, and then write it down in the world. You have half an hour for this essay, your time starts now."
no subject
"Yes. Of course," he agrees evenly, though he sits very still for a few long, steady breaths, hands resting lightly on his knees, expression blank, before he slides gracefully to his knees in front of the coffee table, his robes pooling around him as he settles his center of gravity comfortably for writing. With the air of a familiar ritual, he pours just the right amount of water into the hollow of the stone, then grinds the ink stick into it until he's achieved the right consistency and opacity before guiding it to pool in the hollow of the stone.
It's a few more seconds before he lifts the brush, dips it into the ink, and begins to write in smooth, elegant strokes that appear completely effortless, in a way that only years of perfect practice and incredible control can achieve. He knows as he begins writing, that, while he's complying with the letter of the assignment, he is not complying with its spirit. But this is where he can find some modicum of comfort in starting.
And so he addresses a very formal letter to the long dead leader of the Rebel Army, expressing his great anger at the man for casting him off the the cliff for defending his twin, and then stealing him away and tormenting him for years,and for compounding the devastation the meteor had brought to their world by setting Dixingren against their Haixingren and Yashouren brothers. Once he begins it doesn't take long, and after a total of twenty-three minutes in total he blows gently across the paper and pushes it towards xiao Jedao. The page is almost completely filled with beautiful calligraphy... in perfect Mandarin.
"My apologies," he murmurs, head bowed. "I am most comfortable writing in Mandarin these days."
no subject
"That's fine," he says, sliding the page back toward Shen Wei. "You'll just have to read it to me."
no subject
"Of course." He seems to say that a lot to xiao Jedao. He suppresses the urge to sigh and, rather than picking the paper up, simply recites from memory.
"To the Most Despised, Cowardly, and Execrable Leader of the Rebellion Forces-"
There follows, in a steady, controlled voice, a point by point recitation of the many and varied reasons Shen Wei is still angry with the man to this day, both in his own behalf and those of his twin and his people. He does not, at the end, apologize for adhering to the letter if the exercise while perhaps flaunting its spirit, though he feels perhaps he should, he simply sits, hands on his knees, expression mild and awaits xiao Jedao's critique
no subject
no subject
"You're welcome," he murmurs, and closes his eyes with perfect trust and no hesitation.
no subject
no subject
He's silent for a moment, and perfectly still, breathing even and heartrate steady, before he murmurs, "I would rather not, thank you," in a perfectly even and utterly inflectionless voice.
no subject
"I still think you should do it," he says softly. "Because the truth is, he can't hurt you anymore. You're not trapped. So think about it, and read your letter again."
He waits a beat.
"Or if you can't yell at him, yell at me."
no subject
"And I have relived that moment over and over and over." He stops for a moment to breathe calmly through the boil of emotion he doesn't wish to acknowledge. "In every possible variation. That I somehow manifested a combat power I didn't Learn until years later and bested him. That I did not lose consciousness when I fell and managed to follow him and steal didi away. Even that I managed to murder him in his sleep, and save all our peoples so much pain and loss.
"I would very much rather not insert myself into that memory again."
no subject
Or is he going to tell Jedao - who is hurting him, who knows he's playing with fire, pressing hard on an old broken bone - that it's wrong of him to demand it. He doesn't have to go back there - but he has to get angry at someone.
no subject
no subject
If he has a command, it's that one.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He narrows his eyes, jaw tight.
"And I've been as unsubtle as I dared. I would hope you're getting it."
no subject
"Do you wish to to know what I feel when I'm forced to revisit that memory?" he asks, his voice, if anything, even flatter than before. "It's certainly anger. Anger that the stupidity and impulsive bravado of a child destroyed so many lives in little more than a moment. I was foolish enough to challenge a grown man with blood on his hands, as if there were anything I could do against him, and I lost my brother to misery and torture, and cursed the world to yet another war between Dixing and Haixing that need never have happened." And that didn't just kill himself and his twin, and countless others, but left Zhao Yunlan trapped, burning in eternal agony, in the Lantern.
He has a great deal of anger for that foolish child.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)