Hua Li-an

Li-an was born a cute boy, cute cheeks, and round baby face. But his eyes didn’t reflect that. He carried a cold hardness to his stare since a young age.

As a child, Li-an was brought up neglected except in one aspect. The sword. Born to the rich martial arts family of Hua, Li-an's father was adamant that he honed his skills. He was eye sore to his two elder brothers. Li-an was skilled. He had won national championships, advancing to win international martial art tournaments. Although he faces glory from the outside, Li-an never felt proud of himself.

For him, winning was a standard. He had to be perfect. His two elder brothers had already achieved the same medals, years before. He was a disappointment. The third child. The illegitimate. The forgotten one.

No matter how many perfect scores he got, or championships he’s won, or even how composed and elegant he acted for the face of the family. It was never enough. Li-an grew distant from everyone, including himself.

At 15, Li-an's father succumbed to an illness. ‘Succumbed’ is defined as the failure to resist pressure. Failure. Li-an stood at the funeral, face apathetic but his mind was rolling. Li-an was always a failure. Now his father had failed against death, against his own mind. Li-an didn’t know if he should laugh or cry that day. So, he opted to do nothing but stare.

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Li-an's eldest brother became head of the family. By the age Li-an was 15, his eldest brother was already 25. He had two brothers. But unlike them, Li-an's mother was a maid, a fling that died during childbirth.

His eldest brother was named Hua Jung-Ho. Li-an's relationship with Jung-Ho was odd. Jung-Ho never picked on him as a child unlike his second eldest brother, Pei-Qing. As a child, Li-an could only remember when Jung-Ho would cast him distant and cold looks. They always unnerved him. Li-an remembered how he used to wake up in a cold sweat, gasping at the sight of Jung-Ho's cold look. But it wasn’t always like that. Li-an could vaguely recall a time when he was very young. When he snuck out to the courtyard and watched Jung-Ho practice swordsmanship. To Li-an he looked so regal and elegant, if Li-an said he wasn’t inspired, it would be a lie. Jung-Ho could be described as the cool silent type, elegant and poised. He only ever conversed with Li-an when he annoyed him. Li-an was nothing but a bug by Jung-Ho's feet.

Hua Pei-Qing. Li-an's second eldest brother. He was 8 years older than Li-an and two years apart from Jung-Ho. Brash and hard–headed, with the cunningness of a thief. Jung-Ho had the intelligence of a General, whereas Pei was sneakier and cheekier. Pei never hid his disdain behind cold stares like Jung-Ho. Li-an always appreciated his honesty. As a child, Pei would use Li-an as a scapegoat. Who broke the vase? Li-an did. Who dirtied the armoury? Li-an did. Who did this? Who did that? It was always Li-an who had to kneel till dawn. Fighting was forbidden in the household unless it was sparring. The Hua family valued their skills, they were respected above all else, and using them for petty reasons was out of the question. So, Pei used the loophole, when it came to sparring, he was extra harsh in hurting Li-an up. Li-an remembers patching up endlessly for nights, his limbs aching from injuries and the limps he had to walk on for weeks. This was Li-an's life.

At 15, Jung-Ho and Pei-Qing had joint guardianship of Li-an. Before his father’s death, Jung-Ho and Pei simply enjoyed their adult lives and ignored the unwanted child. But now since they were legally obligated to care they were present. Much to Li-an's annoyance.

Li-an gradually gave up the sword. To him, it was a symbol of his childhood. His past. Li-an was no longer under the watchful eyes of his father. Li-an was dead. He was not motivated to pick up the sword and wield it. Eventually, his grades started to drop. One by one, the once-perfect boy named Hua Li-an was dead.

One night near his 16th birthday, Jung-Ho had called him up to his office, Pei-Qing stood next to him.

“Sit.” Jung-Ho said as Li-an walked in quietly. Li-an sat down. Pei placed a pile of papers on the table. Various letters of concern and report cards laid scattered on the table, he held a stony expression. Jung-Ho clasped his hands under his chin and looked straight at Li-an's eyes.

“An. We've received some letters of concern... and your scores... have dropped.” Jung-Ho spoke awkwardly, and Li-an dismissed his tone.

“Apologies, Brother. I’ll do better.” Li-an replied straight-forwardly. Pei grew angry, his annoyance showing.

“That’s all you have to say? An! Come on you know better than this! Do you even care?” Pei’s harsh words spat angrily at Li-an but An was confused about the look in his eyes. Pei held something foreign in his eyes.

“How am I supposed to respond, Brother?” I slowly asked a little lost. Pei face palmed himself and let out an exasperated sigh. Jung-Ho interrupted gently.

“An... This isn’t like you. You used to score perfect grades and you haven't even picked up the sword since father died.” Li-an's expression was neutral and cold.

“I neglected my studies and deserve punishment. My apologies brother. As for the sword. I do not have the desire to use it anymore. I have already won multiple championships and my father is gone. I do not see a reason to use it anymore.” There was something cold and chilling in Li-an's eyes, especially when he spoke of the sword and their father.

The expressions on either of the two elder brothers’ faces changed. Their faces contorted into something different. Li-an couldn’t pinpoint it. Jung-Ho let out an exhausted sigh and dismissed Li-an. Telling him.

“Just focus on your studies and come to any of us with concerns.” Li-an nodded and left.