Huaisang hums his assent, although he doesn't quite care about the... proper ways to teach disciples things. Frankly, he's never considered himself a disciple; he is simply the second Nie son, and everyone should have left him the fuck alone if they were going to be so disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for killing monsters with sabers. Honestly.
But still. There's a point there, surely. Teachers shouldn't teach so poorly; brothers shouldn't call their brothers good-for-nothings. He's not denying either of those things, certainly. It feels strange, to hear Shen Yuan so soundly sum up the issue, "Family shouldn't treat each other so poorly," like it's simple, like someone who has never lived a day in their family can make that call. Objective truth and the way it chafes against all of Huaisang's insides war briefly in his chest, although he merely frowns sitting there with Shen Yuan.
He finds he isn't angry, to hear Shen Yuan criticize Mingjue's treatment of him. Perhaps he would feel differently if it were some other thing about his brother's character, or if he hadn't just had his nerves rubbed raw by the flash of memory— but even back then, Huaisang had resented da-ge's fits of "discipline."
Where does that leave him, then, he wonders. Sat here in someone else's house, wondering if he should be more upset. If it would be allowed, by the ancestors and the heavens and whoever else, if he were more upset. He doesn't know.
"I suppose," he says, eventually. "He was my only brother. He kept me alive, you know, protected me. But, ah... I don't know. He was never going to accept me the way I am."
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But still. There's a point there, surely. Teachers shouldn't teach so poorly; brothers shouldn't call their brothers good-for-nothings. He's not denying either of those things, certainly. It feels strange, to hear Shen Yuan so soundly sum up the issue, "Family shouldn't treat each other so poorly," like it's simple, like someone who has never lived a day in their family can make that call. Objective truth and the way it chafes against all of Huaisang's insides war briefly in his chest, although he merely frowns sitting there with Shen Yuan.
He finds he isn't angry, to hear Shen Yuan criticize Mingjue's treatment of him. Perhaps he would feel differently if it were some other thing about his brother's character, or if he hadn't just had his nerves rubbed raw by the flash of memory— but even back then, Huaisang had resented da-ge's fits of "discipline."
Where does that leave him, then, he wonders. Sat here in someone else's house, wondering if he should be more upset. If it would be allowed, by the ancestors and the heavens and whoever else, if he were more upset. He doesn't know.
"I suppose," he says, eventually. "He was my only brother. He kept me alive, you know, protected me. But, ah... I don't know. He was never going to accept me the way I am."