The first time Feiyin heard of music, it was from his father.
It was an evening much like any other, warm lamplight flickered against the wooden walls, the smell of roasted meat lingering in the air. Feiyin sat cross-legged on the floor, watching his father work on a small wooden carving, the shavings curling at his feet. His mother, seated nearby, embroidered a new piece of fabric, her delicate fingers moving with quiet precision.
Feiyin loved moments like these. The house felt alive, not just with the sound of the crackling fire, but with the steady, comforting rhythm of his parents' presence.
Then, as if recalling an old memory, Cai Feng spoke.
"You know," he said, voice casual but tinged with something else, "I met your mother because of her music."
Feiyin blinked, his small hands pausing where they had been playing with a stray wood shaving. He turned to look at his father.
"…Music?"
Mei Liao's fingers stilled in their embroidery. Her eyes flickered toward her husband, unreadable.
Cai Feng, for once, grinned, not the amused smirk he often gave Feiyin, but something softer, more reminiscent.
"She played the guqin back then," he said, glancing at her. "Better than anyone I'd ever heard."
Feiyin's curiosity ignited like a flame.
His mother, his graceful, composed mother, played music?
He scrambled onto his knees, staring at her with wide eyes. "Mommy, really?"
Mei Liao sighed, setting down her embroidery. "Your father talks too much."
Cai Feng snorted. "He's old enough to know."
Mei Liao gave him a pointed look, but the corner of her lips twitched. Then, with a soft exhale, she turned to Feiyin.
"Yes, I used to play," she admitted.
Feiyin grinned. "Can I hear it?"
Her brows lifted slightly. "It's been a long time…"
"Please?" His voice was filled with unrestrained excitement, a rare break from his usual, thoughtful nature.
Cai Feng leaned back, arms crossed. "You should play for him."
Mei Liao sighed again, but this time, there was no real protest in her voice. She shook her head with a small chuckle. "Alright, alright."
She stood gracefully and disappeared into the next room. Feiyin practically vibrated with anticipation.
Mei Liao returned carrying something long and wrapped in silk. She moved carefully, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a guqin, its polished wooden surface gleamed under the firelight, strings taut and waiting.
Feiyin's eyes widened. It looked like magic.
She knelt before it, running her fingers along the strings in a quiet, almost reverent motion. Then, she positioned herself properly and, after a moment of stillness, plucked the first note.
The sound rippled through the air like water, smooth yet striking, rich yet fleeting.
Feiyin's breath hitched.
His world, so often shaped by oscillations he alone could feel, suddenly synchronized with something outside himself.
As Mei Liao played, the vibrations of the strings merged with the natural oscillations in the room, the faint creak of the wooden floors, the soft crackling of the fire, the slow and steady rhythm of his father's breathing.
It was beautiful.
His chest tightened, a sensation he didn't fully understand. Was this… what sharing felt like?
Mei Liao's fingers danced across the strings, each note adding to the unseen melody that already existed in the world. The oscillations he always felt were now being translated into something everyone could hear.
His father leaned back, eyes half-closed, listening with quiet contentment. It was a rare moment, Cai Feng was always watchful, always aware, but now, even he was carried away by the song.
Feiyin's hands clenched.
This… This was it.
For so long, he had felt disconnected from the way others experienced the world. His parents didn't sense the oscillations the way he did. They couldn't hear the way stones hummed in harmony or how voices clashed in discord.
But now… he could share it.
When Mei Liao's final note faded into silence, Feiyin could only stare at her, his mind still lost in the echoes of the music.
She tilted her head. "Feiyin?"
His small fingers twitched against the wooden floor. His voice was quiet, but certain.
"…I want to learn."
Mei Liao blinked. "Learn music?"
Feiyin nodded firmly.
"I want to… I want to show you," he struggled to explain, eyes intense. "What I hear. What I feel. But I don't know how to say it. But this… this is like speaking."
Mei Liao's lips parted slightly.
For a moment, neither parent spoke.
Then, slowly, Cai Feng exhaled through his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're too young to be talking like this."
Mei Liao, however, was watching Feiyin carefully, her amethyst eyes filled with something unreadable.
After a moment, she reached forward and took his small hands in hers.
"Music is not just about playing," she said gently. "It's about feeling. About connection."
Feiyin nodded eagerly. "I know. That's why I want to do it."
Her expression softened.
Finally, she smiled.
"Alright, little one," she murmured, brushing a hand over his hair. "I will teach you."
From that day forward, Feiyin's lessons included music.
It started simply.
Mei Liao taught him about rhythm, how every sound, every movement, every breath followed a pattern. She let him tap his fingers against the wooden table, guiding his hands into a steady beat.
Then came tones, she played different notes on the guqin, letting him listen and repeat the sounds with his voice.
"Music," she told him one evening, "is not about perfection. It is about understanding. Listen to the world around you, and you will find that it already sings."
Feiyin did.
He listened to the way the wind whistled through the trees, how the river echoed against the rocks, how even silence held its own melody.
For the first time, his gift did not feel like something to be hidden.
It felt like something meant to be shared.
One evening, after a month of practice, Feiyin sat before the guqin, fingers trembling slightly.
Mei Liao knelt beside him, adjusting his posture. "Slowly," she reminded him. "Feel the strings before you play."
Feiyin took a deep breath.
Then, he plucked a single note.
It was hesitant, weak, unsure, but the sound filled the room nonetheless.
He closed his eyes.
He felt the vibrations, how they rippled outward, how they merged with the subtle hum of the house around him.
His heartbeat steadied.
He plucked another note, this time, clearer.
Then another.
Slowly, the notes formed a pattern, an echo of the sounds he had always sensed but never been able to express.
Mei Liao watched him, her expression unreadable.
Cai Feng sat nearby, arms crossed. His face was impassive, but his gaze was sharp, watching his son with something between curiosity and pride.
Feiyin did not notice.
For the first time, he was fully immersed in something outside of himself.
This was his language.
Not words.
Not gestures.
But sound.
And for the first time, as the final note faded into silence, Feiyin felt something warm bloom in his chest.
A feeling he had no name for.
But perhaps, one day, he would put it into song.