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Chapter Text

The scent was strong, bitterness twisting with something undeniably saccharine, the involvement not at all inviting. Ziang's eyes fluttered, his eyelids still heavy with prolonged lack of sleep, the insides aching even after resting.

Sleep dust framed his lashes like sand, the soft sunlight filtering through scarlet curtains haloing his pale face like a blessing. His lips were pressed in a line, chapped and nearly white. His cheeks were pressed inwards, like they bore no muscle underneath. The darkness clouding beneath his eyes were vivid, his entire visage exhibiting plural bits of emotions where none resonated with bliss.

Ziang's vision wasn't aligned, but apart from the mellow warmth of the daylight, the first thing that he viewed were a pair of rich brown eyes staring down at him with a gaze he thought he didn't deserve.

It took him a while to register the identity of the owner of those eyes. And the moment he realised who it was, the twist within his chest escalated.

Duan Ziang let out a cough, hands instinctively pressing on his mouth and instantly splattered with crimson. The warmth that wrapped around his own fingers within the next beat made him feel safe, but once again, he was too pained to trust the reality.

"Ziang—"

The voice sounded like a benediction that burned against Duan Ziang's skin. Soft and mellifluous, woven in strands that beaded worry and pain, but even then the most distinct was the subtle affection, the sweetness with which he called the name.

Ziang felt like throwing up.

"Ziang, how do you feel now?" Xiao Shuhe's words held a tinge of waver even when he strived to steady himself, "I know I shouldn't ask this as I can see it for myself but— is the pain too much?"

Ziang turned to face him, scarlet staining his whitish lips as they gently parted into a smile that didn't serve the morals of the gesture.

It held pain. Raw vivid pain.

"I am better," his response came in cracks, "Because you are here."

Shuhe didn't answer immediately, but shot him a swift look that remained fused between playful annoyance and hidden coy. But even then, the concern hadn't deserted his brows.

"Has the chest pain worsened?" he asked next, tracing his thumb upon Ziang's hands in little circular motions, "Or is it your vitals now? Your throat seems constricted too. Duan Ziang, are you truly alright? I don't think you are— "

"Shuhe," Ziang breathed out, the name cradling his raspy exhales, the call being urged in such a painful way that Shuhe had never heard it before, "I am fine, believe me. Presently, I don't cough as much blood as I used to earlier. So it's definitely better now. Don't worry."

Shuhe remained quiet, the tracings on Ziang's hands now changed into a grasp, tight enough to feel the other's body heat but too gentle to not cause any pain. Ziang was still looking at him, while Shuhe's gaze remained fixated upon the shimmering patterns on Ziang's robes.

Slightly distant. Majorly evading.

"LiHua," Ziang called him as he slowly raised his hand to make it feel Shuhe's face, gently letting his trembling fingers rest on the soft skin, "I can see the sadness souring your expressions. What happened?"

Shuhe looked at him, his lower lip trembling but the tears not escaping yet. He gazed into the watery obsidian of Ziang's eyes— dark, dangerous but undoubtedly dazzling, and faltered a smile.

"You say that it stabs you worser than a sword to see me cry. But do you know, how much pain this heart bears when its beats are staggered by glancing at your fading self?"

Ziang opened his mouth to speak, but no words made it to the audible range.

A breeze stirred indoors, the gentle waft of peach blossoms gracing the air, a faraway scent of crushed jasmine and sandalwood intertwining like a mercy. Xiao Shuhe's tears were silent, and so were the heartbeats within Duan Ziang's chest.

"The hatred I still harbour for you could never outweigh my love for you," the tremble in Shuhe's voice made Ziang's breath twice ragged, "And once upon a time, I used to hate myself for it. But now— now I can't even do that, Ziang. I can't hate myself for it, knowing that in every lifetime, in every realm, in every afterlife, you'll always be my first and my last choice. Even after every wrong you did, every malice you built, every trust you ruined and every promise you stole and returned."

Duan Ziang could lie to himself, but Shuhe knew him too well. The sudden twist within his chest made an expression of extreme ache flash across his face but before he could veil it away with something comparatively neutral, Shuhe had already spotted it.

"And now you're blissfully lying to me," he continued, his voice choked but still not perished into a whisper, "I can see it, that you're in pain. I can see it that you're suffering. But you won't accept it."

"What good will it do even if I accept it?" Ziang asked him with tears streaming down his face, his desperation equivalent to a pleading that held too much agony in it, "I've lost everything, Shuhe. Everything. Dazed in the blindness of my twisted obsessions, I had let go of all the passion that once this dying heart had held for you. I had let my desires get the best of me and in the end it darkened me to such an extent that I had done things I don't deserve forgiveness for."

"I've lost the sole reason of my existence— you. I've lost you in every form and now what I hold in my bloodied hands are the peach blossoms dusted into ash and air, which resembles your cherished freedom dissolved to a nothingness and your still harbored feelings for me that I don't deserve."

"Tell me Shuhe, do I deserve another chance? Do I deserve a prolonged living? I don't. So let me perish in this way. It's not painful. It's— It's quicker and acceptable to all."

"Not to me," Shuhe responded without sparing a breath, "Duan Ziang, you committed crimes that don't deserve atonement just to keep me living even against my wish. And now, you think you have the right to depart before me?"

Shuhe's voice was louder this time, the tone raw with scathed sentiments, his words incinerated not from malevolence but from the reality of the situation.

And Ziang didn't deny it. He accepted it all with his head bowed low, his sight casted with tears and his heart heavy with the realisation that whatever he had thought to be the best for his beloved all along the journey had simply turned to be barbed spears gaping his soul open in the cruelest forms ever.

Duan Ziang was sorry. He truly was. But what good would repentance do now, now that he was holding sweet vows from a distant memory caged within the darkness of the presence, his affections traded with frantic obsessions and his schemes smudged with the pain of the one he had forever devoted himself to.

He had done it for him, but his methods were too merciless to be redeemed for and therefore, there could never be a replacement to any of it.

A terrible pain shot up in his head, like swords stabbing at his skull, like poisoned arrowheads ricocheting across his brain. Duan Ziang coughed again, this time blood spilling on his lap, creating a mess gruesome to be viewed but still earning an immediate look of tremendous shock from Shuhe.

"Ziang!" he exclaimed, his hands trembling as he reached for a cloth to wipe his mouth, his hands and his robes, "Ziang what— th- this is bad. You're coughing more blood now. This is— I need to call Shen Song right— "

"Wait," Ziang stopped him, hands soft upon his arm, eyes glistening in still unshed tears, "Don't disturb him. He's in his study now, working on something important— "

"You are more important Ziang I need to— "

"Shuhe," the voice begged him, "Don't. There's medicine in that wooden box. Bring it to me. It'll stop my coughing for the moment and put me to sleep."

The horrified look on Shuhe's face didn't diminish, but the pleading etched upon Ziang's features complete with a tired smile forced him to stand and walk towards the table.

The look simply deciphered as— I am tired Shuhe. I can't argue anymore. I'm sorry.

The medicine was taken and Ziang was laid back to rest. No words spoken, no arguments echoed. The effect was instant as before his smile could wear off completely, he had already fallen asleep.

Shuhe lingered there for a while, his eyes never leaving the waning visage of the man he could not stop loving even after the massacre he had brought in his life— intentional or not. Shuhe inhaled sharply at the notion, not letting his tears fall again but still losing a few.

He didn't pity Ziang, he didn't sympathize with him either. That wasn't what he deserved after all he did. All Shuhe felt was grief mingled with love that never seemed to disappear, the obscurity of his wrath still holding on to the warmth of his true affections for him.

It was indescribable. It was chaotic. And even when it was gnawing at his soul like damned parasites, Shuhe still chose to wear a smile and live the days in the way he had once dreamt of about.

Even when it wasn't justifiable. Even when it was internally torturous. Even when— it wasn't enough.

Shuhe stood up, his eyes still clad in the image of Duan Ziang's peaceful resting face, a calm he rarely saw. As he reached the door, he stopped by the threshold and turned around.

Ziang was asleep now— unknown, unaware, uncertain.

Shuhe smiled at him,

"The antidote will spare us a little more time. But I have already chosen eternity, Ziang. And here, you don't get to choose anymore."

"Never ask for my forgiveness. You'll never hear me saying it to you because, somewhere within the mayhem in my mind, I've already forgiven you. And now— I'll strive for what I want, what I deserve, what I should truly be granted with. And in the end, you'll be a part of it as well."

"Unknown to it now, but never unhappy in the future."

Chapter Text

The blossoms didn't appear vivid now, quietly tucked away somewhere amidst the leaves that formed vast canopies over the courtyard. It wasn't cold anymore, but the warmth was yet to settle in. A late night drizzle made the floors glisten, flickering lights from lanterns glowing yellow and gold, cascades of water mirroring silver upon trees, the winds gentle but still not convincing.

His motions were irregular, footsteps uneven, fingers twitching against his robes, body shivering but not from cold. He walked with the form of a man but the soul of a corpse, a human shattered from within owing to circumstances he had never asked for.

Xiao Shuhe was no longer the poised prince, the smiling youth, the beloved monarch of Southern Hui. He was no longer the lover of arts, the indulgent of music, the enthusiast of collecting poetries of the world.

He was now a marionette, a frame without a spirit, a face without a smile, a man without emotions. He was void of anything that resonated close to happiness, detached from everything that sang of positivity, completely aloof of all that were synonymous to joy.

He was now a ship without sails, a sailor without maps, a map without symbols and a symbol without a meaning.

Shuhe found himself breathing low at one corner of the courtyard. The soil was damp, earthy petrichor mingling with something sweet that probably wafted from the flowers nearby. His eyes found the darkness before him while his mind interpreted it as calm, the sound of the soft showers soothing to his ears and the gentle winds a healing balm.

He didn't look further, his eyes still fixated upon the raindrops carving intricate patterns against pillars. But Shuhe was impatient, an absentmindedness that disturbed his conscious, a troublesome state that he couldn't define well.

He immediately began looking around, his sight travelling from ornate lanterns to rain stained windows. And then it moved to a distant scenery, and even in his isolated state, he couldn't help but ignore it.

A fire, appearing smaller than a candle flame owing to the distance, but not vague. It burned even under the rains, its glow soft and warm, the radiance illuminating the one who had probably lit it, the figure crouched right in front— immersed, immobile.

Shuhe didn't require proximity to recognize him. His silhouette alone was enough for his red rimmed eyes to decipher who it was.

He could see him even from afar— his body bent forward, too close to the fire. He had his hands wrapped tightly around himself, like as if he was attempting to shield himself from something or someone. His clothes were drenched, and so was his skin, appearing porcelain pale under the glow.

Shuhe couldn't see his face, but the view of his fallen demeanor was so intense that he didn't want to see the war of emotions upon his visage anymore.

Duan Ziang once bore a grin that used to make Shuhe roll his eyes at him. He was once the epitome of a unique charm that had made the Southern prince fall for him in the deepest complexities of emotions ever. He was the radiance in his mundane life, the shield to his worries, the antidote to his pains and the blanket to his miserable circumstances.

But then again— it was that same Duan Ziang upon whose face Shuhe had seen burning wrath. It was the same man who had turned out to be a spy from Jibei North and also the heir to the throne of their enemy kingdom.

And once again— it was that same Ziang, his once beloved Ziang, who had displayed cruelty clad under obsession, who had slaughtered his own father, had waged wars and captured Shuhe's kingdom, had made him prisoner of war in a replica of his cherished mansion but in the North and had shackled him therein so that he couldn't flee.

All in the name of love, affection and protection.

Shuhe had never seen woes consume this man. He had never seen Ziang mirror the looks of a broken person, a tired soul, a fading spirit and a crumbling frame.

But now, right now, he was seeing it.

And somewhere within— Shuhe could hear his heart breaking.

Even after everything that had transpired in the past.

Shuhe watched him get up with a sudden movement, his stance so brittle that for a second, Shuhe thought he would lose balance and fall straight into the fire. Ziang was totally drenched at this moment, and Shuhe could see it clearly.

The figure clad in black turned, his shoulders quivering, his steps faltering but steadying soon, as if he didn't want anyone to see his gradually shattering self. Shuhe hid himself behind a pillar, closely watching but never moving, his eyes now solely on him and none other.

Ziang walked across the courtyard with the shadow of a vanquished individual, a sight so rare that it made Shuhe's chest twist in an uncalled pain. He watched his soaked self move towards the entrance of the grand manor, the residence he had built as a reflection to Shuhe's original housing back in Southern Hui.

The infamous Sixth Prince's Manor.

Every wooden plank, every ornate carvings, every single shelf to each and every chamber including all the belongings and other necessities— it were the same here. Shuhe had not believed it initially, but his eyes had betrayed his mind.

Watching a disheveled Ziang trudge towards that very imitation made Shuhe ponder upon the probable reasons.

He didn't think further and began following him into the mansion.

Ziang never heard his footsteps, but Shuhe could hear his violet coughs punctuated by wheezy inhales, even when they stood miles apart.

Every cough that he heard was like a stab to his heart and Shuhe never denied it. For a sudden second, he felt his own chest give a terrible jolt, a blinding pain scalding upon his muscles and ribs, but he didn't waver much and tried his best to evade it.

Shuhe wouldn't admit his shallow state. He wouldn't admit that he couldn't even stand properly and that his condition wasn't any better than the man who walked in front of him.

He wouldn't admit it.

Rather, he simply moved forward.

Ziang had walked past the entrance long back. Shuhe still lingered at the doorstep, his steps hesitant at first but still proceeding later. The interior was impossibly warm, not the unbearable kind but the type that felt like a gentle blanket worn on wintry nights or like the stir within the chest when a newfound love was budding to something sweeter and soft.

It was unbelievable.

The air smelt of subtle sandalwood, the earthy scent from outdoors drifting in to mingle, creating a lovely atmosphere within. Shuhe looked at the floor, evident trails of water creating haphazard marks. The candlelights glowed bright, never ceasing to dim and leave the ambience obscure.

Shuhe had tears in his eyes, but he chose to wipe them away on his sleeves and move on.

He followed the trails, leaving behind the gnawing urge to linger in the space earlier. This place could never hold the same feelings that he had for his original abode back in Southern Hui.

He was a free man there, but a chained individual here.

How could they resonate the same?

But alas! The uncanny resemblance brought back memories from corners he didn't want to unravel at that point. And if it had to be fueled by something, then it was the sight of Ziang tonight.

Shuhe didn't want to built this bridge— to create a sense of resemblance between his actual domicile and this faux replica.

But who could educate his faltering heart?

He walked into the corridor, the dusky path leading towards the bedroom. Shuhe could laugh, because some five years ago, that very room but on his own land had held stories that now stabbed at his heart like several knifes assembled together.

And the stories he was once so fond of? They were all indulged with the very same figure that had entered this replicated room a few moments ago.

Shuhe didn't step inside. He remained standing at the doorstep, his hands numb, his knees wobbling, his body aching but his eyes silently resting on the drenched apparition of the man that now sat on the bed.

He hid himself well in the shadows, but Ziang was too worn out to notice.

Shuhe watched him closely, the luminescence from the many candles now glowing on his features that made him look extremely wounded, still young but heavily veiled underneath layers of pain and grief and inked agony.

The sight had the pit of Shuhe's stomach unwind in the most violent ways ever, his eyes burning with tears, his mouth parched with uncalled cries, his throat scratchy with nothing left to voice out and his inhales never in rhythm with his exhales.

His heartbeats were loud in his ears— so loud that for a second he couldn't perceive ambient noises anymore.

"Shuhe."

Oh! He knew that voice so well, the voice that now called his name like a plea, like a begging, like a desperation that haunted every single memory where once this very voice spoke his name like a worship, like a chant, like a lover whispering words of passion into his ears with his name serving as the fullstop.

The growing moisture in his eyes made it tough to look on, but Shuhe eventually blinked and let them roll down his cheek while focusing his gaze back on the man that sat on the bed.

Ziang had called him earlier, in a dream, in a dilemma, still unaware of the name's owner's presence within the vicinity.

"Shuhe," he was looking to the emptiness beside him, as if someone sat there to lend a ear to his words. He smiled at the void, and then continued.

"Sh-Shuhe— if we are together, your imperial title will be an obstacle to our promises, won't they? I adore the commoner's clothes that you chose. Let's wear them and escape at dawn."

Shuhe froze. The depth of each word spoken in a tone laced with nothing but want, like it was reality, like it was actually happening— like Shuhe was actually sitting in front of him and he was really talking to him.

Like some five years ago when they were nothing more than two individuals who were desperate to run away and live their lives with none but each other.

"We'll live in seclusion in the woods and roam the mountains and the rivers together. And when the time comes— the two of us will find a courtyard in the woods and hold a simple wedding ceremony."

"Duan Ziang, you're going mad!"

Shuhe wanted to scream, but the words never left his mouth. Only tears streaked down in unstoppable streams, searing hot upon his skin, the pain flaring, the memories gradually resurfacing.

"M- May we be like like a pair of swan geese in flight, ne- never parted for a h-hundred years."

Breathless. Ragged. Torn apart.

The sentence alone left Shuhe speechless, but he didn't have time to comprehend further. Ziang's coughs made him still, his numb state obtaining a terrible shock upon seeing the former's hands bloodied and his mouth stained in crimson.

Shuhe wanted to move.

But he couldn't.

He saw Ziang turn to the space beside him once again, his bloodied mouth splitting into a grin, his reddened hand lifting up in the air, shaking but never dropping.

His fingers curled slightly, as if he were cupping a face. And then, barely in a whisper, he said the words that would be his final for the night.

"Shuhe— I love you."

He didn't know about the silent intruder yet, but the latter had already riveted himself at the threshold in an immobile stance.

The condition was maddening, and even upon realising it all, Shuhe did nothing.

He simply watched, and quietly broke.

Ziang proceeded to lie down next, his clothes still drenched, his hands still smeared in blood. He dragged a cover upon himself and curled inside, looking so small, so remote and so fragmented.

Like he were a shard from a once striking glass ornament, now lost amidst piles of dust and forgotten by all.

Ziang closed his eyes.

Shuhe stood by the door for a while.

But then he moved, and with one last glance at the rare peace cradling the face of the man he could never stop loving even when circumstances had forced him to reap hatred, he left.

The drizzles morphed into a heavy shower that lingered all night. The former Sixth prince retired to his friend Shen Song's chambers, indulging in quiet discussions but never forgetting what he had encountered earlier.

If Shuhe ever knew that the next morning, he would be awakened by the frantic cries of HuaiYi from the front yard, screaming about how his brother wasn't breathing anymore, and Shen Song telling him about how cold his skin was, then maybe he would have thought twice about retracing his path back to where his heart still belonged to.

But that never happened.

And Duan Ziang never saw the light of a new day.

Chapter Text

Spring had always graced the courtyards with prolonged hours of silence that didn't feel like a penance and a warm blush of the daylight that didn't burn against the skin.

Sprinkled upon the picturesque scenery were the blossoms that bloomed like stars, delicate pink and pristine white dotting the lush green grounds during the early morning hours.

The winds were light, the air smelled sweet, the clouds shifted without a haste. The arrival of the new season was welcomed by strings of the zither softly plucked to produce euphonic tones that danced with the sharp pierces of a glazing sword, sometimes replaced with a branch of lovely pear blossom and sometimes, empty handed.

It was almost like a tradition that not only invited a time that cradled within it the synonyms to a new beginning, but also marked a moment that painted the harmony of the two souls now no longer bounded by strangling expectations and painful anticipations.

Shuhe's eyes were reluctant to open, the gentle warmth of daybreak cascading down upon his lying form. He turned on the bed and closed his eyes again, burying his face into a silken pillow while intentionally indulging in his already sufficed lethargy. Shuhe didn't suspect anything at first, lying still for a few moments and expecting movements beside him which usually came in sudden embraces, stolen kisses and honeyed words accompanied with laughter and glee galore.

But this time— they never arrived.

And that made Shuhe aware of something he hadn't noticed before. He opened his eyes and extended his hand beside him, the sheets soft and messy under his frantic fingers.

The space beside him was empty. And the one who was supposed to be there instead of the void wasn't there at all.

Duan Ziang was gone.

And the realisation of it alone had Shuhe tear himself off the surface and sit upright to view the sight for himself.

Emptiness in the form of a feeling that did not sit right within his chest. Ziang had never deserted him while waking up in the morning, and for all the time that they had spent in the realm they called their afterlife, something like this had never occurred.

Duan Ziang was indeed gone.

Shuhe didn't want to trouble himself with any negative thoughts. He wondered about the pleasant morning and gazed distantly through the open windows. The pear blossom shone under the shine in a dazzle that truly seemed heavenly, and something about the sight made a soft smile linger upon his lips.

Perhaps he's outside, practicing his swordplay or tracing the blossoms in an absentminded manner.

Or perhaps— he's somewhere inside, brewing tea and stacking sweets while stealing a few thinking I wouldn't notice.

Shuhe's smile simply widened, temporary relief washing over him as he stepped down the bed and brushed his palms upon his robes to ease the creases. Slipping into his sleeves, he walked outside the room and reached the open cool of the courtyard.

The scent of blossoms lingered in the breeze like nectar while soft golden hues haloed the region like a memory. Shuhe stepped forward, slowly lifting his hand and letting his fingers brush upon the pale petals, a gentle wind whistling through his hairs and making stray strands flutter in the air.

Shuhe wasn't entirely lost in the natural elegance. His mind was still somewhere else. The silence that reigned the yard now didn't resonate with the tranquility that he cherished.

This silence posed different, an emptiness that didn't comprehend anything close to positivity along with a strange sense of fear whose origin he didn't know about.

Shuhe turned around instantly and let his eyes wander in a frantic manner. The space before him was unexpectedly empty— no sounds of swordplay, no clattering of footsteps, no clinking of vessels or no words voiced out in secrecy.

It was as if he was there alone— all alone.

Fear clawed at his throat like a heavy suspension, a deep sense of dread creeping up his body. Shuhe drew his brows together and looked around again, this time with movements, walking from one spot to another, sometimes running, sometimes pausing and then running again.

Every room, every chamber, every nook and corner of the yard was searched— but Shuhe never found the one he was looking for.

And when the softness of the morning glow had already altered to something slightly fiercer, Shuhe found himself standing in the centre of the courtyard beneath the heavily blossomed pear tree.

Alone.

"Ziang..." the name left his lips in a cracked whisper, like a plead, like a past, like a lost chord in a forgotten musical, "Z-Ziang- where did you go- ?"

The winds showed him mercy, but the voice he longed to hear didn't.

Shuhe's eyes held tears now, hands shaking in front of him, his limbs weighing numb and his chest and throat constricting in pain. The thoughts in his mind remained scattered, like dried leaves of an autumn gloom crumbling down trees and fading upon the ground. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, crying quietly but aching like mad.

"Duan Ziang? Where did you go? Why did you leave me here all alone?"

Shuhe's eyes felt heavy, scarlet blooming around them along with pearly tears. His lips quivered, faltering the name over and over again.

But the spring winds did not dance anymore, no swords to glow under the light and no music to make them feel at peace.

His head felt heavy, his form weakening, sleep threatened by extreme dizziness cloaking his gradually shattering form.

It wasn't painful, it wasn't agonizing— not physically atleast.

And if not for his sole ache regarding the absence of his beloved, then Shuhe would have interpreted this sudden change within him as mere tiredness.

He laid on the ground, fragmented flower petals tangled in his hairs, fingers brushing through the grass blades, eyes tear stained but still gazing at their little wooden house. Shuhe felt void within, a heavy fog now encircling his weakened form, like he was being clad in mist, ready to be dispersed in the air as haze and dew.

With one final effort, he called again, "Ziang—".

But the silence was too overpowering.

Shuhe closed his eyes, his last thoughts being invested solely to measured footsteps and graceful movements, a dance that spoke not only of practice but also of devotion, of worship and of true affections. Laughters rippled across his ears like a story, words washed in sweetness ached in his core, every memory now turning vague and highly distant.

The courtyard trees didn't waver, the wind didn't whistle anymore. Flowers bloomed low and the grasses looked less green. Xiao Shuhe didn't wake up, his body numbed to non existence, his dreams perishing into a whirlpool of nothingness.

But even then, he thought again, with tears dried on the grass, with mind ceasing to exist and with a frame that was no longer his own.

"Duan Ziang? Where did you go? Why did you leave me here all alone?"

____˖⋆࿐໋₊____

[May 25th, 2025]

Summers, like an age old custom, never failed to arrive with their own sets of swings that ranged from pleasant mornings to scorching afternoons to bearable evenings.

And to say that he wasn't thankful enough for a comparatively cooler morning would be a lie.

MiJin thought to himself while tying his shoelaces and later swinging a bag around his shoulders and dashing for the door— "What would it be like today?"

First day of university didn't exactly make him feel elated like so many others. He could be extremely grateful about it if he could make it through the day without doing something completely unintentional but rather embarrassing.

MiJin scoffed at the thought of it.

The campus was exactly what he had imagined it to be— not the buildings but rather the atmosphere. Too many people, too less space and worse— too too much of noise. There wasn't anything around that he actually liked at first glance, but there wasn't any turning back either.

Second floor with two steps down the corridor and he was already struggling with finding the lecture room. MiJin's footsteps were taking him forward, but his eyes were completely fixated on the hall numbers, never looking what's ahead.

And that alone would be the sole reason for his first embarrassing situation of the day.

As before he could read the number of the next lecture hall, he walked straight into someone and the collision was so impactful that even though neither fell down, one of their belongings were scattered across the floor with audible noises.

Students around stared at them for a while and then walked away.

MiJin was already cursing himself as he immediately dropped to the floor and began collecting the sheets. He quickly stacked them together, still muttering non stop under his breath and extended his hand to lift the final sheet that lay close to his feet.

But the stranger had reached for it too, and now, their hands lay touched, neither moving, nor detaching.

MiJin looked up. The stranger followed suit.

And for the next few seconds, neither spoke.

They stared like they could feel something unfold within them, like a crumpled piece of paper that had lodged itself within their hearts now finally unfurling into something strange but not unappealing.

Brown gazes mingling with obsidian stares, lips parting to exhale shaky breaths, the touch alone blooming warmth and escalating heart beats.

MiJin felt like he could cry. The stranger didn't feel different either.

It was as if they knew each other— from some where, from some time. Not in this life. Not in this realm. But from somewhere else— a place they couldn't recall yet, but they knew it a little too well even when the feeling remained unspeakably mutual.

The stranger was gorgeous, and MiJin's eyes were truly reluctant to tear away from him. His face was pale and perfectly carved, eyes sharp but not rude, lips plush and but not smiling. He wore glasses, thin rimmed and transparent framed. His attires included a simple black shirt and dark trousers, converse for footwear and a watch around his left wrist.

Simple. But undeniably attractive.

MiJin watched the stranger's gaze travel to their hands, still in contact, still reluctant to move. He watched him trace his fingers upon his own, slowly grasping his hand and turning it around so that his palm faced him now.

MiJin could swear that he saw the stranger's breath hitch at the sight.

"This— " he spoke, now looking up at MiJin, brows drawn closer, eyes moist but not teary, "Where— How did you get this— ?"

MiJin looked back at his open palm and breathed. For some reason, he found himself being unable to answer directly.

After a few moments, he finally spoke, "It's a birthmark. Been there since the day I was born."

A thin line, brown and almost fading. It connected the borderline of his palm and wrist to the base of his fourth finger.

Impossible to be noticed by an strange. But this stranger did.

"Why?" MiJin asked him, still confused at his intentions.

The stranger shook his head slightly, "Just— I don't know— it felt familiar."

You felt familiar.

MiJin had questions. But he didn't voice them out.

The papers were handed back to the owner and with a polite thank you, he walked away and disappeared by the end of the corridor. MiJin stared at the void for a while, and then left as well.

By the time he settled himself in an empty seat by the window in his lecture hall, he had realised that the weird tension hadn't deserted him yet.

It was incomprehensible, too difficult to be said in words, almost imaginary.

But MiJin knew it wasn't a falsehood. And that this did mean something.

Because— the tug of familiarity wasn't vague. It was deep and desperate— so much that it was suffocating him now.

He looked out of the window, the university garden glowing soft underneath the morning sun. A distant pull, a weird connection and a known visage but unknown about its original whereabouts.

MiJin wanted to know more. But he didn't know how.

But all he could think of at that moment, at that hour, at that very second was just—

"Why am I feeling so lonely all of a sudden?"

Chapter Text

The world could be called nameless and the night would be described imaginary when lips smudged with a scarlet blush and eyes stained in a silvery gleam remained lying beneath in a heavenly stance.

Darkness braced the silence like an embrace, warm winds of Nan Hui's nocturnal peace seamlessly mingling with the quietness that remained undisturbed for hours to count.

Sweet blossoms that bloomed only for the obscurity scented saccharine, the air gentle and the ambience sublime with fine streaks of moonlight filtering through wispy curtains in a divine radiance.

Shuhe's eyes bore the lustre that seemed to glow soft but prominent still, his long lashes framing them while cradling the moonshine above. His lips remained parted, inaudible exhales escaping through the soft red mouth that bore a hue which even the loveliest of roses couldn't claim their own.

He trembled slightly, his face haloed by the moonlight, pale and pristine, like a moonlit deity. His skin was warm, a certain touch skimming down his body like a carving, like raindrops cascading down his form, making intricate patterns all over.

The touch alone had him gasping at times, his mouth parting wider and his exhales sounding clearer. Fingers mapped his bare body like they could read him like a manuscript, like they were so well acquainted about each of his likes and dislikes even when they were discovering him for the first time as well.

"Shuhe."

He shivered again, the voice raspy and low against his chest, crawling upwards to meet his mouth. The kiss was unexpectedly slow but heavily passionate, Shuhe still learning the specific movements while the other teaching the novice his skillful ministrations.

It was lips finding each other's in a fervent display, tongues slipping in and colliding to ignite emotions that Shuhe had never felt before. It was like getting drawn to the fire in a voluntary attempt— like the urge to get incinerated but still walk out unscathed.

It was dreamy. It was daring.

It was dangerous.

"Shuhe," Ziang whispered against his mouth, still claiming his lips and smooching them while inhaling in his breath, "Do you really want this? Will you trust me and let me hold you tonight?"

Shuhe sighed and kissed him back, a small attempt that made him shy but still earned an immediate smile from his lover. Ziang placed a kiss on his nose, trailing upwards and littering more across his forehead, like dotting stars across a pretty night sky.

"I trust you, Ziang," Shuhe wanted to say more, but he was already breathless. But Ziang required no more words to decipher what his beloved urged to convey. It was enough for him to proceed with his decisions.

Shuhe sunk further into the mattress, the softness of the sheets brushing upon his unclothed skin. He leaned backwards, arching himself in the process, providing a vivid invitation to the other.

Eager to make his heart's desire cry his name in incoherent ripples throughout the nocturnal bliss, Ziang crawled up again until his lips hovered right above Shuhe's plush pair as he placed another soft kiss upon them in sweet affection.

"You are beautiful," Ziang breathed upon his skin as he devoted himself in placing fluttering kisses down his lover's neck, "Breathtaking like the first shine of the dawn and bearing an equal allurance resembling the stars in the night sky."

The praises had Shuhe exhale in the breeze as Ziang indulged himself in the soothing rosewood scent oozing from his body, the humble aroma of lavender mingling with it in pure perfection.

Shuhe slowly raised his hands and placed them on either side of his head, a symbol of surrender. Ziang was quick to notice his actions, a victorious smirk proceeding to split across his lips, an action that simply made the other gaze away in deep coy.

Ziang leaned down to press another kiss upon Shuhe's chest, slightly towards the left beneath which lay his heart, beating in anticipation of a passionate hour.

"So pretty," Ziang hummed, "So pretty for me."

He trailed down the surface and latched his lips upon one of Shuhe's nipples, making the latter shudder under the effect. His right hand travelled up to grab the other, his chest swelling within his grasp with every breath Shuhe inhaled.

With his thumb, he traced circles upon the raised bud, teasing it to his amusement while he sucked on the other, the tip of his tongue providing a strong surge of rapture to the trembling royal beneath.

"I hope you do not remain quiet and voice out your thoughts, LiHua," Ziang urged in a low voice as his lips travelled down to Shuhe's abdomen, softly kissing him upon the surface above his navel and continuing, "I do not want you to feel hurt or cause pain. So please speak to me if anything seems too foreign or aching to you."

Shuhe had no answers for him in words, but he instantly responded with a low whine when he felt a touch of wetness upon the inner region of his thighs. Ziang had wrapped his hands around the flesh as he slowly feasted upon the supple goodness, sucking on the skin and leaving prominent marks all over which would later bloom into scarlet buds upon a moonlit garden complete with a vivid touch of blue.

Ziang's hands skimmed upon the soles of Shuhe's feet, the contact alone drawing several sighs from the pretty prince. He kissed him on his beautiful legs, trailing down until his lips met the surface of his feet adorned in filigree accessories.

Shuhe quivered under the influence, the quick realisation of Ziang kissing every part of him making his desires multiply within.

Reaching the end of the bed, Ziang quickly shed his attires, the fabrics peeling off his skin and now laying on the ground in untidy heaps.

He climbed back into the bed again, placing a kiss or two upon the glistening surface during his journey, a mischievous smile ghosting his mouth only to be widening soon.

His lips were truly on the verge of losing their patience now, so ready to engulf the sweet sighs and saccharine songs eliciting from the other's. He was still mindful about being gentle, but he was craving as well.

With precision combined with subtle madness, Ziang brought his lips crashing down upon Shuhe's, a fervour twice wilder than any past happening.

Shuhe moaned under the effect as his lover drank into his gasps, his tongue brushing upon his lips, coaxing them to part.

They did so, and swift as a skilled explorer, Ziang drove his tongue inside the warm cavern, intertwining his impatient muscle with the submissive tongue of the other.

"Z-Ziang," Shuhe gasped when he felt fingers rock against a space he had never felt being invaded before, the touch alone so raw and intimate that even amidst the pleasurable sensation, the birth of a completely new feeling made him turn scarlet with inevitable embarrassment.

Ziang grinned into the smooch, taking in all of the sweetness that the mouth had to provide. His fingertips rubbed slow against Shuhe, the moans making him delirious but still composed.

He heard his name roll down those lips in broken chords, a musical he hadn't heard before and it was its rarity that made him go mad within and shamelessly desire for more.

As he lifted his lips off his shuddering lover, the contact beneath made the latter elicit plural whines, each of them making the other prouder as he leaned down to place repeated kisses upon those rosy lips like an addict.

Shuhe's legs twitched when he felt a finger intrude within, his moans reduced to ragged gasps. It travelled down the channel and paused at a particular region where it curled intentionally, immediately making him release a high pitched moan.

"Such a wonder you are, LiHua," the other cooed as he flicked another finger in, rocking them in and out of the doused entrance in a perfect rhythm. The repeated squelches made him go insane as he increased his pace, spreading him in the process in order to prepare for a quick invasion.

Ziang's eyes never left Shuhe's face throughout the time, his own sight frantically searching for any signs of pain on his lover's face but finding none, much to his relief. He pulled his fingers out and leaned forward to kiss him again, as if it wasn't enough yet, as if he was still starving and begged for more.

He let out a low growl upon his mouth, the arousal tempting to take control. But Ziang knew he had to be patient because he was well aware that if he let his carnal instincts take over himself, then he would end up hurting his beloved, even though it would be unintentional.

And Ziang would never wish for something as such.

"Divine," he purred as he placed another series of kisses upon Shuhe's lips, the latter squirming under the effect of powerful fingers jabbing within the spot beneath, keeping the walls loose and flexible.

"Z-Ziang..." Shuhe moaned without knowing what to say afterwards. He was dripping in need, his long hairs tousled and snaking upon the sheets in every possible direction while his parted lips remained swollen and red, a soft whine shining on them everytime he opened his mouth and the moonlight from the windows caught the glisten and reflected it like a heavenly lustre.

Ziang couldn't speak for the moments that followed as he simply drank in the moment of honeyed intoxication— his lover undone beneath him and shuddering in the silvery glow, not like a weakling, but like a soul that is experiencing intimacy for the first time and being both enthralled and embarrassed by it.

"Forgive me for my delays, LiHua," Ziang spoke as he shifted his position, carefully grabbing Shuhe's legs while folding and pushing them towards his chest until his knees touched his bosom, his entrance now spread wide open for the other to arrive.

"Do I have your permission?" Ziang asked politely, rather teasingly, as he watched the instant changes upon Shuhe's facial features, morphing from delirious to subtle annoyance.

"I- I have already agreed to this," whined the prince, his voice slightly commanding, "Do I need to repeat again?"

"So commanding," Ziang's smile held pure happiness, his eyes shaped like cresent moons and his face holding a rare charm of bliss and youth.

Ziang aligned himself against the entrance, the sweet spot urging him to breach it and take control. He slowly pushed himself inside, the repeated stretching from earlier making his journey easier, the contact still drawing a long moan from both.

Shuhe squirmed underneath, fingers finding their home upon Ziang's smooth back, nails digging in, drawing erratic patterns of scarlet lines. Ziang had maintained his pace, going slow in the beginning and a bit faster in the middle.

Until he finally found the spot that lay buried within the folds and flesh.

The contact alone had Shuhe scream again, earning a warm chuckle from his lover. He felt soft lips press upon his cheek, a proud smile glimmering right above his moist vision.

"I'm so proud of you, my LiHua," Ziang spoke in a voice bearing raw emotions of affection and admiration, "You're doing wonders."

"I- It feels odd-" Shuhe moaned against his lips, "B-But please don't stop— " He bucked his hips forward, the action resulting in Ziang venturing deeper in him, his facial expressions changing to pure shock but not indulging in it for long.

He rolled his hips against the region, rocking them in a perfect rhythm with his hands clamped around Shuhe's legs for leverage. With every thrust he travelled deeper, discovering new spots and hidden spaces while simultaneously bruising his lover's walls in the sweetest ways possible.

"Wh- What— Ziang- Z-Ziang— " Shuhe's drenched body begged him, all his words dissolved into a single name now. He curled his fingers around the headboard behind him and arched backwards, completely offering himself to his man, his frail body at his mercy.

"Your wishes will always be fulfilled, LiHua," Ziang responded as he increased his pace, not exceedingly rough but slightly erratic than earlier, skin slapping against skin with breaths growing erratic and moans brimming the nocturnal air.

Shuhe trembled, his needs reaching the farthest limit as his body glimmered under the moonlight in rapid perspiration, his silver accessories seeming to melt upon his own skin.

Ziang found the view gorgeous, as he slowly leaned down to capture his lips with his own, the pace beneath never decreasing.

"Z- Ziang— I feel— ah- I don't— " Shuhe couldn't form sentences anymore, but Ziang understood him perfectly.

"Don't hold back," he whispered calmly against the side of his face, "Don't pain yourself, LiHua."

Shuhe shuddered and came upon Ziang, still embarrassed about the entire process but trying not to show it. He could feel his body crying for more, but the heat on his face and the red still clinging to his cheeks and ears prevented him from asking again.

But Ziang needed no words from his lover to decipher his intentions. He was too good at reading him like an open scroll, as however good might Shuhe be with his words and expressions, his beautiful brown eyes were always transparent in revealing his deepest emotions.

Ziang pushed further and came with a broken cry, his voice warming Shuhe's ears. He did not pull out yet, the heat of the moment yet to subside. Ziang searched upon his lover's face for any signs of discomfort or reluctance, but all he could see were sweet expressions swimming within the deep sea of pleasure.

"M-More— " Shuhe pleaded, already giving up on his internal conflicts, his response providing a wordy assurance to Ziang's predictions, "I-I need— "

"Yes my LiHua," Ziang laughed beside his ear, nipping it at the lobe and leaving with a swift smooch, "You never fail to astonish me, you know."

"Pl- Please— "

Ziang pushed inside him again, his pace slightly harder than before, the squelches sounding louder. Shuhe tried to contract himself around him, still not comprehending everything clearly but letting his instincts take the lead. With each contact, Shuhe cried louder, his cries piercing through the midnight breeze in a mellifluous melody.

Silver glistened down his body, pearly and warm, beads of perspiration serving like priceless jewels. He couldn't think of anything else, he didn't want to, as all his range of vision allowed him to view were the charming, obsidian eyes of Ziang, dark but still lost in a whirl of warmth only Shuhe could decipher.

Ziang came again, but did not stop. Nor did Shuhe resist him. He continued, his motions perfect and precise, the lubricated friction of his length dragging against the walls making both shudder in need. He came again, this time together, his release now painting the surface within in white, Shuhe's interiors now filled so well that he could finally term it as a newfound satisfaction and could call for a pause.

It was a mess all over, upon both their bodies and sheets and everywhere. But they didn't mind, or rather, couldn't— too tired to be comprehensive and too spent to even think anymore.

"So perfect for me," Ziang praised him as he placed a kiss upon Shuhe's forehead. He gazed back at him, his lovely face all flushed in coy, eyes fluttering but never looking directly above, lips pressed in a hidden smile but not curling upwards in completion.

A heavenly adoration.

"I love you— Shuhe— " Ziang panted against his mouth, letting his lips sway with the familiar fervour the other's pair, "My moonlit deity— only mine."

"I love you more— Ziang— " responded Shuhe amidst smooches and sighs.

The night air was finally full, strong scent of ripe peaches mingling with perspired rosewood as the sweet fragrance of lavender danced along with the soft lustre of pure moonlight.

Chapter Text

The flowers were soft upon his fingertips, cold dew trickling down his skin while a gentle breeze set in motion— almost sweet, almost heavenly.

Shuhe drew his sleeves closer, the fur around his neck appearing soft, the material catching the reflections of the dying shine of the sun and making him look divine. He stood there underneath the blossom tree, the blooms all pink and white, the floor beneath dotted by their petals like stars.

Shuhe didn't think anymore, the sweet scent from the blossoms making him feel nostalgic and happy— a sense of joy that he hadn't felt for quite a long time.

His decisions might have been hasty, but he didn't regret them. On the contrary, he was glad, the final taste of freedom still warm in his veins, the permanent salvage of independence vividly evident in his gentle smile and carefree nature.

Then what was this emptiness within— a void so vast and yet so unexplainable? A wait that felt so long even when it wouldn't mount upto several breaths.

A wait— that was now making his heart ache.

Shuhe's gentle smile dropped a little, the breeze slowing down as if in accord to the sudden change in his demeanor. A vast sense of loneliness washed upon him, his hands shaking, his eyes stinging, his heart aching within the enclosure of a chest that felt too weak and too pained to hold it all anymore.

"I want to wait for someone too. When I died, I was in his arms."

Shuhe remembered the touch, the crushing grip of fingers tightening around his shoulders, his head resting safe against his chest, the chill of his face warming against the frantic touches of his hands.

He remembered the way he cried his name, a soul shattering shriek that pierced straight through the calmness of the air and left it quivering.

He remembered the words— "Shuhe- you deceived me again. You've deceived me my whole life."

And to reminisce it all again, it pained him.

Shuhe was never disappointed about his final choices, but the void within spoke of unease, a different sensation that clashed with the enormity of freedom within— too cursed, too cruel, too chaotic.

A petal fell at his feet, the sky layered in softer hues now, the sunshine warming his face. Shuhe wouldn't stop waiting, he knew that. He wouldn't care about the duration, even if it would become too painful at times.

He would still wait— and he knew it.

But will he come?

Another petal dropped, this time on his open palm. Shuhe felt a strange twist within his chest at the thought of it— Will he come? He believed he would, he trusted that they wouldn't part, no matter where, no matter how, no matter when.

But what if—

"Shuhe."

The cheer in the voice laced by clear indications of pure happiness and joy made Shuhe's steps falter— almost involuntarily. He hastily turned around and did not waver again.

Bathed in the soft tones of a twilight glow, still radiant in his rich red robes with golden patterns glistening bright and beautiful, his hairs messy but the ponytail still clinging like a distant memory and the most distinct of all— a wide grin that was too real to be dreamt of and yet too dreamy to be clearly comprehended.

Duan Ziang was no longer buried under the burdens of choices that made him ache and regret. He was no longer clad in the sickening glories of royalty and neither was he downed with all the fusion of emotions that resonated nowhere close to positivity.

Duan Ziang was now back as a youth who had once fallen in love with a prince whose mouth could utter the sweetest of poetries and whose hands could create the softest of melodies.

And this vision of him had Shuhe's heart beating faster again— like a fragment of his imaginations coming true, like a dream weaving its way to something real and completely genuine.

Shuhe didn't move first, a question still lingering in his mind— How did he arrive this early? Shuhe had expected a while honestly, a month or two, or perhaps more or less but not this soon— definitely not a few breaths' intermission between their individual arrivals.

But Shuhe didn't say anything.

He simply smiled back, his face aglow by the amber lights, the void within long gone and now replaced by a feeling of extreme elation, subtle on expressions but twice deeper within.

"Ziang."

A name fading in the spring air like a memory— a memory that was finally reliving tranquility and bliss galore.

Ziang stepped forward, his motion slow, his grin intact, the bright scarlet of his robes now appearing richer. Shuhe was still lost in the happiness upon his face, the youthful cheer that he had longed to see for such a wide stretch of time.

Viewing it finally felt like a blessing instead.

Duan Ziang was close to him now, but two steps later, he faltered. The smile dropped and the cheer disappeared, fear and hesitancy now holding the reins of his emotions. His hands shook as he raised them towards Shuhe, not completely, but just an indication.

A subtle call. A quiet consent— Can I hold you?

And Shuhe understood him almost instantly.

He walked forward with arms open wide and immediately engulfed the other in a tight embrace. Shuhe could feel Ziang's twitching fingers palm his back, a soft sniffle echoing upon his shoulders and quick crumbling of his entire form.

Duan Ziang's knees shook and gave way, the impact falling heavy on both as they dropped on the grassy ground, still sobbing in each other's arms, still clinging to the remnants of all the goodness that were marred by undesirable circumstances.

"Ziang— " Shuhe tried to pull apart, a decision not born from discomfort but from the urge to see him, to hold him, to embrace his broken form and console his tears to a pause.

But Duan Ziang was reluctant to let go, his grip equivalent to the one he had planted on Shuhe's shoulder while holding his cold body. Ziang was holding on to him like he would disappear again, like the spring winds would take him away and never return him back, like he would cease to exist and would never be found again.

And even without words, just by his actions, Shuhe realised his fears.

"Ziang— I'm not going anywhere," he whispered close to his ear, slowly raising his hand and placing it on the back of his head while softly dragging it down in repeated motions in order to soothe him. Ziang didn't stop crying, but the words from Shuhe had made a successful impact already as he finally raised his head and looked up.

And the sight alone had Shuhe's heart breaking within.

"Ziang," Shuhe's voice was softer that the blossoms falling on the ground. He slowly lifted his hand to cup Ziang's face, thumb gently brushing on his cheek while wiping his tears away. Ziang's breaths were shallow and ragged, sobs emitting without a pause and his gaze now casted low, as if he couldn't bear to look at Shuhe anymore.

"Ziang— I'm sorry."

The apology made him look up in the blink of an eye, sunrays reflecting from his tear stained eyes, his face flushed and warm but from grief. Ziang had horrors upon his facial expression, vivid agony etched with complete shock.

"Shuhe— Sh- Shuhe what are you sorry for?" he mumbled amidst sniffles and sobs, "What are you sorry for? If there's anyone who should be sorry for everything— then it should be me."

"Ziang— "

"Shuhe— I— I am sorry," Ziang stuttered again, his grip on Shuhe's shoulder loosening as if he was about to fall right then and there, "For everything I did— for every single wrong that I did to you. I was blinded Shuhe— blinded by my love for you. I was so lost in my desires that I had stained all the affections I held for you with inks of twisted obsessions and in the end, the obscurity alone made me execute every action without reconsidering them."

"I was mad to possess you— to hold on to the last and only bit of positivity in my life. Since the day I saw the lights grace the skies, I never had anyone to stand by my side and care for me as if I were their own. I lost everyone I loved, everything I cared for, every single bits and pieces of optimism were snatched away from me to an extent that I had never believed that someone like me could even be a recipient of it."

Ziang breathed, tears streaming down his eyes but still choosing not to stay silent.

Because if this was truly a new beginning, then it had to commence with him begging for forgiveness.

"But then— then I met you and you— you gave me everything I thought I wasn't capable of receiving. And I was adamant on not letting it go. With claws and teeth, with swords and chains, with vileness and savagery— I wanted to keep it by my side, thinking that I was doing the right thing."

"But— But I wasn't," Ziang gazed at Shuhe, his face pale, his hairs dry in the evening breeze, a single pink petal twirling down to rest at his feet, "I was wrong— at every action, at every movement, at every single point. My siege was  your humiliation, my carnage was your destruction, my confinement was your suffocation and my obsession— was your death."

"Shuhe— you had to die— you had to kill yourself to make me realise my mistakes. You had to take away the only thing that I cherished the most throughout my life to make me understand the difference between love and obsession. Shuhe— you were right. The historians— they shall write after this, how the Southern Emperor Xiao Shuhe was killed in the hands of the Jibei Emperor Duan Ziang. And all of this— all of this was because of me."

"If— " Ziang looked away, now staring blankly at the peach blossom behind Shuhe, his eyes still watery but slightly distant, as if he was dreaming and lamenting at the same time, "If I had realised it all earlier— if I had enveloped my love for you in a quiet and honorable manner, then maybe— maybe all of those wouldn't have happened..."

"Maybe you wouldn't have to kill yourself and maybe— maybe things would have been better..."

Ziang did not speak again, his gaze still lost amidst the pink and white fusing together with the amber background. Shuhe listened to him in silence, not responding, not interrupting. His own tears were now in visible stains upon his honeyed face, fresh ones now retracing this same path to fall upon his robes and meet their silken graveyards.

Shuhe's movements were gentle as he wrapped his hands around Ziang's, slowly intertwining their fingers together. The motion caught Ziang's attention as he averted his gaze to look at him again, the watery irises simply reflecting what he deciphered as a strange sense of calm, bliss and forgiveness in abundance.

Ziang still searched for some hint of regret or malice against him, but found none.

"History— is nothing but a stroke of the scholar's brush," Shuhe began, his voice cracked and choked at places but still so soothing to hear, "Ziang, I was brought up in a place where truth defied duty. I had always wanted to hide away from everything— to run back to the pear blossom and veil myself away from everyone, from father, from brother, from duties, from every single thing that defined my entire existence. But I couldn't. Because a prince doesn't get such liberties."

"A fallen emperor— a captive and a weakling in the eyes of all. The ruination of my dreams and the fall of my kingdom were brought about by the same man who had once held my bloodied hands and cried at the pain. Ziang— you might have done it all to keep your only cherished person by your side. But you had forgotten this that— after those five long years, I was no longer the Sixth prince you had fallen in love with."

The last string of words stilled Ziang's gaze upon him, his expressions faltering and changing from blankness to understanding. There was guilt, there was shame, there was repentance and along with them all— there was realisation.

Ziang felt awful, but chose to stay grounded and listen to it all.

"I was no longer the music loving, poetry indulgent prince that you had last seen. I was the Emperor then, the ruler of the whole of Nan Hui, a duty I had never wanted to associate myself with, a burden that was forcefully placed upon my shoulders all because of your rash doings."

"My choice of death was not just a revenge on you by wiping my existence away from your life right in front of your eyes. My death was to bring back my dignity and respect as an Emperor and not as a captive. My death was to avenge the people who had lost their lives because of your cruel decisions— my brother, my people, my kingdom. My death was also to teach you a lesson, to make you understand that love can never be equivalent to capture and forced implementations of affections, no matter how much you want them or urge for their return."

Shame burned upon Ziang's face like an imprecation, his own evil doings echoing in the words of the one he sacrificed everything for made him feel twice remorseful. He couldn't maintain his gaze at him anymore, his sight cracking and now travelling to the ground beneath. Tears welled up in his eyes uncontrollably, his entire form shivering in agony and extreme self hatred.

"But even amidst all the righteous paths," Shuhe spoke again, the fingers of his right hand travelling upwards and resting beneath Ziang's chin as he gently turned his face and directed his gaze back upon himself, "The one reason that had been the final seal to my decisions was my love for you."

Ziang's lips parted involuntarily, partly in disbelief, partly in awe. Perhaps he had something to say as well, but no words came out of that parched mouth.

"You were the regret that I couldn't let go of. You were the abyss that I found myself falling into even when I knew that it wasn't the right thing to be done. And when I realised that there was no turning back from this, then I had already made up my mind."

"I didn't want to see you perish before me, Ziang. And I know that you too didn't want to see me pass away before you. But you deserved it— to watch me take my life right before your eyes as a final atonement to all the sins that you had committed."

"When I had told you that I wanted to start it all over again with you, I didn't lie then Ziang. I meant it— — I truly wanted to start over with you," Shuhe's voice suffered a sudden stagger here, but he still continued, "But I didn't want it to be for a short duration brimmed by affections torn between regret and revenge. I wanted it to be a permanent beginning, a new chapter, with no desires for revenge, with no grief over guilt, with no malice over past happenings and with no ounce of sorrow or hatred to mar our love."

"I did deceive you in my last breath, Ziang. But all the days that I had spent with you before it were true. Even before that, I strived not to let my affections for you get the best of me but couldn't help it. At the Lantern Festival when you had talked about a fantastical future and I had tears on my face, they weren't caused by the Northern winds. They were due to your words— due to the realisation that none of what you were saying would ever come true."

Shuhe cried harder after this, his hands trembling beneath Ziang's chin, his face seeming paler even under the golden glow. The winds whistled through his long hairs, his white sleeves fluttering slightly in the air, pink blossoms showering over him like snow in spring.

"I never lied about starting over, Ziang. And I hope you believe it. I had deceived you— but not with the thought that I didn't love you anymore..."

Duan Ziang didn't speak for a while, his silence so distant and so empty that it made Shuhe afraid. He didn't know what to expect after the mutual confession, and the wait was making him twice anxious.

But then, he saw Ziang's hand reach for his robes, hesitant fingers tracing the scarlet of his silken attires. Shuhe didn't know what he was trying to indicate by his actions, so he waited for him to speak.

And finally, he spoke.

"If— If you had truly deceived me—" Ziang whispered, "Then now— right now— you wouldn't be wearing this..."

Shuhe's lips immediately split into a smile, a muffled sob escaping but quickly succeeded by a light laugh that closely resonated with a soft sigh from Ziang.

Rich scarlet robes adorned in golden embroideries and intricate patterns. They had arrived in their wedding attires, still adorned in the same bliss of their wedlock hours, still bearing the pride and the truth of their unwavering passion. Ziang's hands rested quietly upon Shuhe's dress, slowly tracing the material, a small smile ghosting his lips now— in remembrance, in reminiscence.

"Ziang," Shuhe held his hands again, "Let's start over— but not with sorrows and tears. Not like this. We've confessed, listened, reasoned and forgiven. Now it's time to forget and walk ahead. We've been granted eternity, Ziang. And hence, we shouldn't waste it in grievance and griefs."

Ziang quietly nodded his head in reply, slowly lifting Shuhe's hand close to his mouth and peppering it with countless kisses. He then held his hand within both of his and squeezed it like an anchor, gently and without causing any ache.

Ziang looked up at Shuhe and smiled.

"I'm blessed to have been granted this eternity with you, Shuhe," he spoke truthfully, "And I promise that I will spend every bit of my breath in making amends to each wrong I did and in filling up each void that I had caused within you owing to my ruthless decisions."

Shuhe laughed at his words, "You better keep that promise this time."

"I swear I will."

Ziang leaned forward, his forehead touching with Shuhe's, their breaths mingling, their smiles growing simultaneously, hands still tangled upon Ziang's lap. The evening was now smudged in darker shades, twilight seamlessly mingling with the dusky approach of the night. The winds were growing colder, distant hills echoing the last remnants of the day, the sky growing darker and the darkness not far away.

"I missed you," whispered Shuhe, "I missed this you— the you that struggled with music, the you who couldn't help me into my sleeves, the you who danced with swords in a flawless practice, the you who loved stealing sweets in my absence, the you who pretended to know everything but still ends up in trouble, the you who— who made me realise that I was capable of so much and that I deserved so much more and so much better..."

"The you— this you— this Duan Ziang— "

"My Duan Ziang."

Ziang sobbed again, slowly turning his head and edging closer as his lips touched Shuhe's face, a soft kiss planted on his cheek.

The gesture made Shuhe blush as he looked away for a moment, the familiarity of his coy nature bringing a strange sense of joy within Ziang's chest.

"I promise Shuhe," he began, "I promise that— the me you'll be seeing from this moment will be the same me who had once promised to roam the mountains and the rivers by your side. And never again will I trade my affections for your freedom. Because I have realised this— that peach blossoms do not bloom in captivity. Therefore, I'll forever make sure that you never suffer the same fate again— LiHua."

Shuhe didn't pause anymore. He instantly leaned forward and connected his lips to Ziang's. The dying streak of the twilight was now upon them, orange and gold pelting down on their scarlet robes like a benediction, the light flush on their warm faces, the glow blessed upon their intertwined forms.

Ziang kissed him with a passion birthed from the mingling of sheer desperation and sweetened devotion while Shuhe kissed him with pure longing and undeniable love— a fusion of feelings that they both had desperately missed upon their mouth, a moment that they had craved for days to count.

It was gentle. It was calm. It was like a discovery been made twice, a venture that had already been done before, but so strained was its duration that they had forgotten it now and were quite adamant on reliving it again.

"Say that again," Shuhe breathed against his mouth as Ziang captured his upper lip once again between his own.

"Say what?" Ziang's response came amidst sloppy smooches and stolen giggles.

"Call me that— the word you had called me by earlier— "

"LiHua?"

"Yes yes ye—"

"LiHua," whispered Ziang as he smiled and kissed Shuhe again, "My LiHua— my beautiful pearl blossom, my gorgeous flower bloom— my Shuhe— my LiHua— mine only mine."

Each word punctuated by a kiss on his lips. Shuhe was crying, but not in sorrow. He collapsed in Ziang's arms, holding onto him like a support, arms thrown around his shoulders, body sagging against him. Ziang held him tight, his own face buried in the crook of his neck, lips whispering words of affection, hands smoothing down his back in assurance.

The embrace didn't need anything more. The warmth alone was enough to convey a thousand unspoken feelings.

"Let's not cry anymore," Shuhe spoke once he steadied himself and sat straight, "I— I don't like to see you cry. It hurts."

"Neither do I," Ziang replied while wiping all the tears off Shuhe's face.

"Come with me," Shuhe said as he got off the floor and held out a hand for Ziang, "Let's go inside."

Ziang quickly stood up and took his hand, a smile radiant upon his lips, a blissful look etched upon his face.

Shuhe smiled back at him, soft, coy but extremely elated and undeniably happy.

And as they walked inside the house together, the last stretch of amber across the horizon melted away, dusk embracing the ambience with winds growing sharper and stars dotting the vast expanse above.

The peach tree remained silent in the yard, its branches waving low with the wind on occasions, blossoms still showering the ground in a blissful multitude.

It looked fascinating. It looked flourishing.

It looked free.

A new start had already begun.

Chapter Text

"Given that the mass of a cylindrical— The rains fill my eyes with a passion unknown, I still imagine his face like a distant morning mist— Xiao Shuhe what the fuck?"

Shen Song looked up in pure annoyance, his forefinger furiously jabbing at the sentence while his eyes remained intensely fixated on the boy sitting right in front of him by the window sill.

"Shuhe?" he called again, but in vain. The boy was staring outside the window lost in a daydream, the rainy ambience providing him a soothing satisfaction that he was reluctant to part with because of some highly boring physics numericals.

"You're seeing this, right?" Shen Song turned to their third roommate while pointing at Shuhe like he was holding some serious accusations against him.

A mop of black hair shifted and looked up at Shen Song for a brief second. And then, with a single nod that remained unclear between affirmation and peak confusion, he went back to his books.

"Not you too, Huo Ying," Shen Song muttered under his breath and shifted his gaze back to the boy watching the rains.

"Shuhe!"

"What?" the brunette haired whined as he slowly got off the window sill and plopped on the bed with vivid reluctancy on his face, "What happened now?"

"It's not the time to be a daydreamer right now, Shuhe," Shen Song pointed out, "Mid-terms in three weeks and you still have three chapters of Advanced Physics and two of Thermochemistry to catch up with. I know you excel in being a professional good-for-nothing but this time if you don't study well, do not expect me to save your poetic ass in the examination hall."

"Fine," Shuhe grumbled and turned around, his back now facing a highly taken aback Shen Song.

"Confident much, huh?" Shen Song raised a brow at the lying figure, "Cool for me. But don't you dare come begging for answers when— "

"Shen Song," Shuhe suddenly turned around, sat up and looked directly into his eyes as if he was two seconds away from boring holes straight into his soul.

"What?"

"Shut up."

"I— No. Why— "

"Cause you're talking too much and it's not letting me think and make verses. And the fact that your busted flute-like voice is cracking my nerve cells so bad and is barring me from picturing his face is so freaking annoying so yes— shut the fuck up."

Shen Song was thoroughly shocked. He whipped his head and looked at Huo Ying, as if asking for a back up.

But just like before, the black haired youth simply looked at the two for a second and went back to his numericals by the next.

"Both of you are useless," Shen Song facepalmed and looked back at the notebook, "Shuhe, you were supposed to take notes, not write poetry in the middle of class and— who's  "his" here? Who were you writing about?"

"You know who I was writing about," Shuhe mumbled while eyeing an open numerical book with a heavy look of vengeance as if it had personally offended him.

"No I don't," Shen Song retorted, crossing his arms across his chest, "Shuhe, you crush on some random guy every single day and within the next twenty four hours, it changes to someone else. Now how do you expect me to keep track of who— "

"Shut up I don't do that," Shuhe interrupted with a snap, "Atleast not this time."

"The hell you mean "not this time" ? Just yesterday you were telling me about how this black shirt tight jeans spectacled senior— wait a second— "

Shen Song looked up and pointed at Shuhe, the expressions on his face morphing to pure terror and somewhat surprise but in a horrific way.

"This senior guy— you have been talking about this guy for like— a few days, right— "

"Two months," Shuhe corrected him, "And a half."

"Yeah whatever," Shen Song waved it off and continued, "So it seems that this senior guy has somehow altered your brain chemistry of hovering from one dude to another to keeping it glued solely to him and now— stop— this poetry thing— it's about him right?"

"Shen Song," Shuhe shot him a highly annoyed look, "I have been talking about this guy every single day and you couldn't point it out? Seriously? Do you even listen to my rants or pretend to wave it off?"

"YOU RANT ABOUT A HUNDRED DUDES IN A SINGLE HOUR THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT?"

"YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO LISTEN AND MEMORISE THEM ALL!"

"THE ACTUAL HELL— "

"Now shut up and— "

"Wait hold up," Shen Song stopped him, "Which senior is this? I mean— there were two guys you had talked about from Year 4. Which one is this one?"

He once again pointed at the open notebook that bore his best friend's beautiful calligraphy meant only for the poetry portion.

The actual notes were a total mess.

"The guy I showed you at the party two weeks ago," Shuhe sounded extremely excited, his whole face lighting up as he immediately pulled a pillow on his lap and eased his elbows on it, "Tall, handsome, tight black shirt, glasses, wasn't talking to anyone, had one friend close but seemed extremely distant. Oh my— he was the one who helped— Shen Song don't tell me you forgot him already?"

Shuhe looked betrayed. Shen Song was extremely confused.

"Wait— you mean that guy who tripped on the stairs three days ago and scattered all his books and got an earful from the chemistry professor?"

"I— yes but you didn't have to say it like that," Shuhe pointed out grudgingly, "Accidents happen."

"Dude he was literally staring at a tree while walking. What did you expect?"

"Shut up!"

"No I won't."

The both didn't speak for a while. But the silence lasted for exactly a minute (or less).

"What's his name?"

"I don't know."

"YOU DON'T KNOW HIS NAME?" Shen Song actually screamed.

"THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT AT PRESENT AND TONE YOUR VOICE DOWN DUMBASS!" Shuhe instantly scolded him back with no ounce of remorse.

"So it's just looks that matters to you?" Shen Song retorted complete with an eyebrow raise.

"Not really," Shuhe answered a bit distantly, "But yeah he's hot. And as for name— I'll ask Gege soon. He shares two classes with that guy."

Shen Song simply nodded and didn't respond for a while. The drizzle outdoors had stopped now, thin rays of sunshine peeking through shifting grey clouds, the pathways dazzling in in the light. A few students were seen walking down the lanes, some headed for classes or libraries, others spending their leisure in discussions or idle gossips.

"So you're sincere about him," Shen Song spoke again, the pen between his fingers twirling in an extremely unprofessional manner.

"Uhm kinda," Shuhe shrugged, "He's handsome as hell and really got me feeling some kinda way. So yuh I guess I might actually like him and stop twirling that pen like that Shen Song. If it comes catapulting right across my face, I'll actually murder you."

"Your face ain't worth the flick of my pen, thank you very much," Shen Song replied with an eye roll, "Also— you say you're sincere about this guy. Ever tried talking to him atleast?"

"I never said I'm actually sincere what do you mean," Shuhe immediately argued back, "And— well no. I've not thought about talking to him— not yet! I'm kinda nervous to be honest."

"Xiao stupid Shuhe," Shen Song spat sternly, "If you don't drag that lame ass of yours to your dream boy within these few days, you're never getting him in this lifetime. Mark my words— "

"SAYS THE ONE WHO HAS BEEN SECRETLY CRUSHING ON HUO— "

Shuhe didn't get to complete his sentence.

Shen Song sprang on him, hands instantly clapping on his mouth with such a tremendous force that it sent both rolling backwards on the bed, the entire struggle continuing with Shuhe writhing and mumbling beneath him and Shen Song visibly trying to strangle him while keeping his mouth shut.

Nothing about their sudden performance would have looked sane to anyone who would have walked on them without an early warning.

Not just them. It was surprising even to the only audience that they had in their room at that moment— that too a known one.

Huo Ying looked terrified at their conduct.

"Don't worry," Shen Song called, hands still pressed tight around Shuhe's mouth, "Shuhe was saying some unpleasant words about me and— SHUHE WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID YOU LICK MY HAND— "

"YOU WERE SUFFOCATING ME ASSHOLE," Shuhe screamed before taking in a deep breath, " . . . with your— with your hands and your body weight!"

"You deserved it," Shen Song shot back, "You were talking trash."

"I wasn't. I was speaking the truth about— "

"Xiao Shuhe!"

"Chill, cabbage head. I won't leak your secret," Shuhe smirked at him, "Or maybe I will, if you fail to abide by my words."

"You're insane," muttered Shen Song.

"You're inconsiderate," Shuhe retorted within splits of seconds.

Shen Song stared at him, thoroughly dumbfounded while Shuhe looked away, trying his best to suppress a laugh. Huo Ying looked at them for a while, confusion clouding his silence a little too well before he reached out for his headphones, put them on and went back to his studies just like earlier.

"Talk to him," Shen Song suggested again, "If you really want this whole crush thing to accelerate forward to something better."

"Can't I wait for him to speak first?" Shuhe questioned with a slight nag.

"Ofcourse not," Shen Song instantly denied, "You don't even know whether he likes you or not. Hell— you don't even know whether he has actually ever noticed you or not."

"Alright but on one condition— " Shuhe grinned mischieviosly as he scooted closer to his best friend and lowered his voice to a whisper, "You're asking Huo Ying out within this week."

"Shuhe!" Shen Song responded in horror, "The fuck you mean by that— "

"Do it or I won't— "

"Nevermind you don't have to talk to— "

"Three weeks' canteen expenditure on me," Shuhe intervened with his declaration, "And two weeks more if you manage to go out with him— "

"DEAL!"

____ᰔ____

The afternoon glow melted through cream colored curtains, a gentle breeze stirring within the room. The couch faced the eastern wall now bathed in golden and amber, the space upon the furniture occupied by a youth who had his head buried in his phone and once in a while, lifted it just to watch the other individual within the enclosure who was currently pacing across it like some caged beast.

Duan Hua Yi tossed his phone aside after a while and looked at his older brother— half worried, half amused.

"You look like someone who didn't shit for a week," he commented, "What's with that constipated look now?"

His words instantly paused the other's motion as he turned around and glared at his younger brother.

Duan Ziang might have the stern stare of a killer but his brother was too used to it by now.

"Nothing," was his empty confession as he went back to walking around the room.

"Mn definitely," Hua Yi muttered, "You don't swoop around the room like a highly depressed post Halloween ghost when it's just "nothing". Even dad's weekly meetings and pesky get-together parties don't get you worked up like this. What's wrong?"

Ziang paused, glared and said nothing.

"Gege," Hua Yi didn't even spare a breath to rethink his response, "I have been a victim of that glare for too long to be scared of it now. It won't work on me anymore."

"Then this would, if you don't shut up this instant," Ziang shot back as he raised a hand in the air that held a pen and pretended to fling it towards Hua Yi.

"Wait— isn't that mine?" the younger instantly pointed out, not at all heeding to the fact that his older brother was seconds away from smacking it right on his face.

Ziang did not respond.

"No but seriously Gege, what's going on?" Hua Yi pressed him again, this time sounding worried but majorly interested, "You can tell me, you know?"

"What good would it do telling you?" Ziang said as he plopped down on the couch opposite to the other, seemingly exhausted from all the pacing around.

"Dunno. Maybe I'll give you a brilliant idea?"

Ziang raised an eyebrow and pointed at his brother, "You? Giving me a brilliant idea?" He clicked his tongue and sunk back into the couch while closing his eyes, "In my dreams."

"Trust me, I can help," Hua Yi assured him. He quickly got up from his seat and settled beside his older brother's, "Please."

Duan Ziang wasn't usually the one to entertain his brother's nags and on occasions as such, he would either ignore him completely or retort heated remarks which would only end up with fiery squabbles between them.

But this time, he was the one facing the problem.

So even though asking for help from Hua Yi didn't really sound convincing, Ziang still chose to go by it.

"It's about someone," Ziang finally revealed, his fingers fidgeting absentmindedly with the hem of his jacket.

"O.M.G," Hua Yi immediately faked a shocked look, "Stone faced black hearted iron blooded workaholic cruel charactered uni goer falling for another human being? That's kinda cute not gonna lie."

For the next few seconds, Duan Ziang stared at his brother with a murderous glance while the latter tried his best to not let out a loud laugh.

"Nevermind. So— who is it?" Hua Yi asked eagerly.

"You know him," Ziang said, "Younger son of Chairman Xiao."

"Pause— you mean that guy who looks like a freshly plucked cherry blossom still drenched in morning dew and loves music and writing poetry even when he's enrolled in the engineering branch?" Hua Yi immediately recalled.

"Wait— How do you know him this well?" Ziang was totally taken aback by his brother's knowledge about the boy. He didn't expect it at all.

"He's in the same year as Guangyi," Hua Yi answered, "And Guangyi's friends with Shen Song, your crush's best friend."

Ziang scoffed, but his brother didn't notice.

"So, you like him?" Hua Yi asked.

"Erm— kinda— ?"

Hua Yi gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean kinda?"

"It's complicated," explained his older brother, "I mean— yes he's gorgeous and all but— everytime I see him, I not only feel attracted to him but also this strange kind of sensation which is so fucking weird and out of place."

"Sensation like?"

"Like I've known him for years— and even longer. And that— that we've met before somewhere, even though I could never recall meeting him before in my life."

"Gege," Hua Yi sighed after a short pause, "You sure you aren't losing your mind or something?"

Ziang looked daggers at him, "This is the reason why I hate telling you anything about— "

"Ahaaa okay don't worry I believe you," Hua Yi interrupted him with a laugh, "But honestly, if you really feel like that towards him, you must go talk to him you know."

Duan Ziang looked terrified.

"Are you crazy?" he cried, "Talk to him? I can't even walk through the corridor if he's lingering there and you're telling me to start an actual conversation with him?"

"Honestly, if you don't do that, he might never notice you," Hua Yi said.

"I— I know that."

"Then why don't you do so?"

"Because I'm scared."

"Scared of what— "

"I don't know."

"I— wow."

Pause.

"You know that you're scared of talking to him," Hua Yi began, "But you don't know why."

"Ugh I know this is frustrating stop rubbing salt on my wounds," Ziang cried out in annoyance.

"I'm not rubbing salt on your wounds Gege, I'm trying to help you."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not— go fix your own situationship first," Ziang scolded, "You've been eyeing the same person for like a whole year now and yet you didn't succeed. And now you're trying to ruin mine?"

"You'll ruin it yourself if you don't talk to him," Hua Yi grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest and looking away from his brother, "And as for my situationship, atleast I talk to him— not like you."

"Well you aren't in a relationship though, so yeah whatever you said doesn't count," Ziang remarked.

"Still better than yours."

Duan Ziang glared at him again, but Hua Yi didn't spare him a single glance. The outdoor ambience had now changed to deeper shades of orange and red, distant parts of the sky carrying a faint tinge of blue, the evening twilight seeming radiant.

The brothers didn't speak for a while— Hua Yi visibly lost in thoughts while Ziang sulking for no specific reason.

He was desperate to break the prolonging silence, but couldn't think of what to do.

"Okay! Hey, I have a deal," Ziang spoke up suddenly, instantly grabbing the attention of his younger brother.

"Now what?"

"If you confess to your situationship, I'll go talk to Shuhe."

Hua Yi stared at him.

"Hell no," he shot back, "You don't have to talk to him, I don't care. But no way in heaven or hell am I going to— "

"No participations in any parties or meetings for the next three months, I'll personally talk to dad about it— "

"HELL YEAH DEAL!"

Chapter Text

"Xiao Shuhe is terrible at lying."

"Ziang."

Shuhe shifted slightly, his head still rested upon Ziang's chest but his hands already moving to wrap them around the other's fingers. Shuhe looked up, eyes still heavy with sleep and mind still in a haze as a distant, almost soundless whimper caught his attention.

A gentle wind left the curtains floating, streaks of moonlight rippling through the fabrics. Shuhe's gaze rested upon the face of his beloved, subtle under the moonlit charm but veiled with a palour of sorrow only he could recognize.

Ziang's eyes had tears brimmed to the edge, a few streaking down in silvery trails. He was striving not to make a sound or utter a sob, but a casual slip had stirred Shuhe awake and now he was looking up at him in question, woes parting his mouth and worries creasing his brows.

"Ziang, what happened?" he asked him softly, raising his hand to meet his jaw. Shuhe cradled his face in his palms as he slowly traced his thumb on the skin underneath his eyes to wipe the tears away.

"Tell me Ziang, what happened?" Shuhe asked again upon receiving no response from his beloved, "Why are you crying?"

Ziang shuddered, his shoulders quivering, his gaze flickering from Shuhe's face to the darkness engulfing the room. He didn't dare speak at first, his voice choked, his mouth parched, his whole form betraying any form of motion or even thoughts.

And this stiffness of his simply added more sorrow to Shuhe's already brewing anxiety.

"Beloved," Shuhe's voice was low and pained, "Talk to me. Please."

He begged him to speak, slowly drawing closer to his face with hands still planted on his jaws. Shuhe placed a soft kiss on the corner of his trembling lips, a saccharine sign of affection but also in an attempt to coax a reply out of him.

His act of love seemed to break Ziang more, as moments ago, he was restricting himself to muffled sobs only.

But now, after feeling the warmth of the proximity and the sweet touch of his lover's care, Ziang couldn't hold himself back anymore. His tears surged like a demolished dam, rolling down with audible gasps and sobs, his whole body staggering with a violent jolt and crashing right upon Shuhe.

Shuhe held him tight, his shoulder providing a solemn sanctuary to Ziang's tears, his hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, his lips hovering close to his ears, whispering soft words of affirmation even under the pressure of an unknown grief. Shuhe was still unaware of the cause of his tears, but that didn't stop him from embracing his lover close to himself amidst the darkness of the night with a few strands of moonlight showing mercy.

"Ziang— "

"Shuhe," Ziang spoke in trembles, his voice crumbling, his hands shaking as he raised them to meet Shuhe's grief stricken face.

Shuhe nodded in assurance, still parting his lips to provide a verbal reply but no words escaped from his mouth.

"Shuhe— remember when I had told you about how terrible you were at lying?"

Something within his chest shifted at the question. Shuhe's eyes flickered all over Ziang's face— tear stained and highly overwhelmed. The words had barely been spoken, but their effect had already landed too heavily on Shuhe, a consequence that shouldn't have happened but it did.

"I just realized that— I was wrong."

Shuhe didn't want to hear anymore, his own eyes stinging with tears already. He knew what Ziang was implying on, or so had he assumed.

His final act of lie and deception towards the man he loved the most.

And the thought of it alone pained him in ways he couldn't describe in words.

Xiao Shuhe had never for once denied his final decisions. He had never let regret gnaw at him for what he had done since it was based not just on his urges for revenge but also on the revival of his lost dignity and respect as a ruler. His plans had been formulated on the pedestal of his adamancy to give himself the justice he deserved, but it was equally backboned by the fact that his love for Ziang was too deep to falter even amidst unpleasant circumstances.

And perhaps that realisation had become the final nail to his coffin that bore the fragments of his final decisions.

Shuhe had told Ziang about all of this, and he knew that he had believed him, had understood the depths of his wrongdoings and the reasonings for their outcomes and moreover, had apologized as well.

And Shuhe had believed him too, thinking that this would probably be their last time mentioning their previous lives, since now, all they wanted was to walk forward hand in hand and fulfill all the dreams that they had left unfinished in their past lives.

Then why did Ziang mention this now?

"Ziang," Shuhe called him gently, hands pressed against his face, his palms serving as the patient graveyard to all of Ziang's tears, "Are you— Are you still pained about my deception towards you?"

Ziang didn't speak immediately. He raised his hands and slowly wrapped them around Shuhe's wrists, his fingers cold upon his lover's warm skin. His grasp was gentle yet grounding, like clasping an anchor that he was reluctant to let go of, because he knew that if he did so, then he would drown.

"I'm not," he admitted, his voice softer that the midnight breezes, "I'm not pained about your lies towards me, Shuhe. Because that was your only way of freeing yourself from the shackles that I had put around you. Your deception was the sole path of demolishing the humiliation and disrespect that I had made you go through so no, I'm not pained by it."

The admission was heavy with a truth still unscathed by any bit of falsehood. Shuhe could see it clearly, the way Ziang's gaze remained casted on his lap, the way his head hung low in submission, the way his fingers trembled- the grasp around his wrists loosening with time and the way his whole body seemed like on the verge of crumbling.

Shuhe hated to see this. He hated to see Ziang wither away in sorrow and guilt. There were plenty of occasions already when they had talked about their pasts and Ziang had accepted his mistakes.

But whenever they were paired with his soul truly shattering from within owing to the weight of his evil doings, no matter how heinous they were and how painful it had been for him to go through each of them, Shuhe couldn't bear it.

He couldn't bear to see Ziang in sorrow.

He couldn't bear to see him cry.

"You know what pains me the most?" Ziang began after a short, distant pause, "It's the fact that your final act of deception wasn't just with words or some small action. It costed you your life, your death, your final plan consisting of your own demise. And that I had to witness it— to see you smile for one last time before realising what had actually happened. And when I did, it was already too late."

Ziang shivered, his body quivering, his hands losing their grip around Shuhe's wrists. More tears spilled from his eyes, his sobs growing louder, his words turning incoherent and his entire form morphing into something unexplainably fragile.

"And it was all because of me," Ziang's confession was distant and in a whisper, as if he was speaking to himself now, "It was because of me that you had to cause your own demise and it was because of me that— "

A hand clapped on his mouth, too gentle to call it a slap but still tight enough to not let him utter another word. Xiao Shuhe's eyes were red, tears streaming down in an uncontrollable flow. Under the moonlight, his face showed visible emotions of pain, a sight that made Ziang's chest squirm in an excruciating surge of pain.

"Ziang stop," Shuhe almost pleaded him, his eyes merciful yet agonized, "Please. Don't speak about it anymore. You have been forgiven by the victim already, so I know that the heavens won't blame you any longer. Your desires had failed to align with your decisions and that brought forth repercussions that ruined us all. But you have acknowledged your fault already and I've accepted your apology as well. Then why pain yourself anymore?"

"It's not just the self-guilt that eats at my soul like a famished parasite, Shuhe," Ziang responded slowly, "It's— It's the constant fear of not being able to control myself in the future and ending up hurting you once again— to the extent that you— you might— "

Ziang froze for a moment.

"That you might do it again— and that— that you might never— "

"Ziang wh-what are you saying? P-Please stop," Shuhe pressed his palm tighter on his mouth this time, his voice brutally sabotaged by his constant crying, "Please don't— don't say that. You won't. You won't hurt me again. You won't— pain me again. You have learned from your mistakes and I know you won't repeat it again. I trust you Ziang— I trust you."

Ziang cried harder, almost collapsing on Shuhe's shaking form. They remained in each other's embraces, hands clasped tightly around their bodies, heads pressed on shoulders, palms rubbing down backs in attempt to calm each other.

"I know you love me Ziang," Shuhe whispered softly, his head still resting on his shoulder and his mouth placed close to his ear, "I know you treasure me. And that makes me believe that you will never make blunders again."

Shuhe broke the embrace and looked at Ziang, his hands once again planted on either sides of his face to wipe away tears. Ziang's gaze was lost upon Shuhe's visage, his beloved's facial features still painted with vivid expressions of melancholy yet looking so pure and so pristine under the slivery moon beams.

"I trust you, Ziang. I truly do," Shuhe spoke, this time saying the words while looking directly at Ziang, "Therefore, please don't pain yourself anymore with unfavorable thoughts. We— We have got a chance to restart everything again, to revitalize our dreams and fulfill them all. Hence, let's not agonize ourselves any longer due to our pasts and instead, walk forward towards a better future."

Duan Ziang nodded in affirmation, Shuhe's hands still warm in his grasp, their fingers intertwined on his lap, their foreheads almost touching.

"I'll do anything Shuhe— anything to make sure that you never go through the pain that my ruthless decisions had made you go through."

Shuhe didn't look up at him. He simply leaned forward to touch his forehead with Ziang's.

"Then love me like the boy who had once tried to play the zither right at my doorstep even without having any knowledge about music, just in attempts to cheer me up."

Shuhe's fingers trembled slightly as he spoke, his grip upon Ziang's hands tightening, his sniffles filling up the gaps between speeches.

"Love me like him, Ziang. And I will never be pained again."

"I will," responded a still sobbing Duan Ziang, his voice too heavy to form more words, his mind too shaken to think of any either.

"That's all I ask for," Shuhe replied and gently fell on Ziang's chest. Ziang caught him, his actions making him smile amidst the tears. He held him close, his fingers now running through Shuhe's beautiful long hairs, his eyes fixated on his drowsy form slowly drifting to sleep.

"I promise you, Shuhe," he whispered gently, his voice distant like a dream, "I promise you that I'll love you like him— like the boy who knew nothing about music but still tried to use it as a way to cheer you up. And I will forever strive to make sure that my love for you preserves your happy, carefree and youthful charm that resembles to the lad that I had fallen in love with."

Ziang placed a soft kiss on his head and leaned back on the pillow, his eyes still drenched in tears and his mind still clogged with numerous thoughts.

But now, his heart felt at ease, if not entirely, but at least to an extent that would let him rest for that hour.

The breeze wafted cooler. The moon shone twice bright.The night carried on— gentle with a confession, soothing with a confirmation and tranquil with a faithful commitment.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Nocturnal Calamity was that one place out of all in the region that truly offered a spot to waste the night away, no arguments.

Located a few miles away from the heart of the city, bordered by deserted streets and dingy alleyways, the bar was a safe haven for all those who chose to escape the ritzy urban life at least for a single night.

Neon lights flickered in erratic patterns and stingy music thrummed in uninterrupted tunes. The noise livened up moods, freely reverberating in chaotic chords, adding some life to the otherwise pensive ambience.

People, especially young adults, crowded the dance floors, couches taken by drunk couples and bathrooms occupied by the ones who were too desperate to execute plans that weren't meant for the open.

Not a place for the chic. But definitely ideal for the ones who wanted a few hours away from everything that held them back from tasting even the simplest ounces of freedom.

"What's your choice today, handsome?"

A man sat at the counter on a chair, with one foot placed on the lower rod of the seat and the other touching the floor. His left elbow rested on the table while his right hand remained clamped on his thigh.

He was dressed simple, a black shirt with two buttons open, revealing his smooth chest and a thin silver chain glistening around his neck. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, showing off his taut muscles. Tight jeans wrapped his legs, the black fabric stretched deliciously around his thick thighs and dark boots beneath adding a final touch to his get up.

The minimal yet elegant attire, complete with a serious yet flirtatious look across his features was quite enough to make anyone go weak on their knees at his command.

Duan Ziang didn't pay much attention to the question at first. He turned around for a second to look at the asker, a pretty female bartender staring at him from the other side of the counter.

His look got her attentive, the girl blushing under his gaze and leaning slightly forward, batting her eyelashes and showing off her cleavage as much as possible through her tight sparkly top.

Ziang knew what she was trying to do, and instead of turning away, he smirked at her.

"Anything you choose," his short reply was laced with teasing, the tone making the girl a blushing mess. She didn't set off to work immediately. Rather, she proceeded to take further attempts in seducing the man.

At first, Ziang reciprocated with few flatteries here and there. But soon his efforts dissipated and the girl realised her own to be all in vain.

The space grew twice stifling as she finally chose to walk away to the other side of the counter, leaving the man to scan his surroundings.

Ziang visited this bar often, majorly in attempts to put his shits together and get his mind out of all the troubles he faced back at his workplace. Everytime things were same. He would walk in, have a few shots, flirt with random strangers, smuggle them to his penthouse, have a rough night and ask them to leave the next day, sometimes with payment, sometimes not.

The twenty seven year old's life hadn't seen much changes in recent times.

It was neither accelerating forward towards something good.

Nor was it shooting backwards towards something horrible.

His days were simply stuck in a weird monotone of somewhere between pretense of happiness and worst of scenarios, a continuous loop of a never ending nothingness.

Ziang's vision didn't settle for a while, his gaze scurrying around the spot in search of a prey for the night. His drinks were served and the girl from earlier tried to flirt with him again, but this time, she received no attention. Not even the bit she had extracted from her earlier attempts.

Fingers curled around the cold glass as the man downed the first shot, the liquid burning down his food pipe, a surge of warmth settling within his stomach, his thoughts numbed to a certain extent, body feeling light.

He went for another. And another. And another.

His hunt remain suspended. For now, he focused on the drinks, every sip making him tipsier, every drop of the liquid churning in the pit of his stomach in a sensation that made him feel alive, not like the sizzling pain of a whip cracking on his back, but like the warmth that hugged his internals like an embrace which resemble humane affections.

Or so was his pitiful comparison.

"Busted day?"

Ziang was downing his seventh shot when the voice grabbed his attention and he craned his neck slightly towards his right.

Blurred vision revealed a figure of fine stature, body clad in a shimmery translucent outfit, the fabric skillfully catching the fluorescent chroma of the bar lights. He wore jeans underneath, skinny and sticking to his limbs, high boots covering his feet.

His fingers were busied with too many rings, numerous chains of various types hanging from his neck. His brown hairs were touselled, strands littering his forehead, few stuck with clammy sweat.

One glance at the stranger and Ziang was bound to accept the fact that he was extremely attractive.

"Busted everyday," he answered to his query from earlier, fingertips lazily drumming upon the wooden desk at the counter. His response earned a short laughter from the other.

The kind that instantly tingled something within Ziang's chest.

"Sad life it seems," the stranger spoke between his orders, "Seeking for an escapism?"

"You could say that," Ziang answered after another drink. He was still staring at the stranger - no - ogling - quietly taking in every rise, every curve, every dent that made his body, the firm features through the translucent material, the thighs that flexed so well under the pants, the glossed smile that remain etched upon his lips.

Dammit! Why the fuck is he so pretty?

"Want something better?" the anonymous youth asked cooly, now sipping his order from a short glass, eyes fixated upon the one seated beside him, "Escapism, if urged for, must be effective, you know. Strong and sensational. If it fails to capture all your troubles and sublime them for at least a night or two, then what kind of escapism would that be?"

Ziang chuckled, "You speak like a dying poet."

"And you are the poetry I'm dying for."

The response caught the other off guard as he quickly turned away to grab another glass, his face slightly heated, the skin under his collar feeling hot.

The bass hit low, wafting in incoherent tunes, the rhythm setting his mood into something that craved for a depth, like desperation and sheer recklessness. The air stenched of cologne and carcinogen, the noise dissolving into an abyss that his indulgence had created.

Ziang wanted more. He craved for more. Not intoxication, but something further. Something that would make him feel alive again. Something that would make his head empty. Something that would actually sublime all his troubles for the night.

Just as the stranger had said earlier.

"How do you define escapism?" Ziang looked at him once more, the other now indulged in his drink, slowly tracing the tip of his index finger against the glass in attempt to catch a stray drop and later placing the finger in his mouth, slowly sucking on it.

Ziang visibly gulped.

The stranger took the finger out of his mouth and looked at him. He smirked.

"Sex."

Oh.

"I'm in," Ziang didn't even spare a second.

The stranger now grinned and stood up from his seat, the front of his shirt now revealing his chest through the fabric, sturdy form with pecs seeming to pop out. Ziang struggled to look away.

"Then what's the wait for?"

They walked out of the bar, elbowing through the throng and finally stepping into the outdoor space, the cool night air hitting them like a sigh. The stranger walked forward, Ziang following him closely. They took the path that led to the back of the pub where the alley remained in its forever dark glory.

Ziang stopped. But the stranger didn't.

"Why did you stop?" the man asked once he realised Ziang wasn't following him anymore.

Ziang was about to respond when he heard the other laugh, much to his confusion.

"I don't do alleyways, handsome," he spoke as he walked back to him, "My place or yours?"

"Mine," Ziang responded without a heartbeat to spare.

"Then lead the way."

Ziang turned around and walked back along the path leading to the front of the bar where he had parked his bike. They were a few paces away when the stranger stopped him.

"What's your name by the way?" he asked, "Calling you handsome is preferable by me, but it seems like you prefer to be addressed by your name."

"Ziang."

"Surname?"

"Duan."

"That's impressive," the man stretched out an open palm, "Xiao Shuhe. They call me Shuhe, but you can prefer XiaoXiao. Or maybe Shuhe. Whichever feels easier to moan out later."

Ziang didn't respond to that.

-

Ziang sat on the couch that faced the room. He pulled out a cigarette from his jeans pocket and lit it, the lighter twirling between his fingers.

Taking a long satisfactory puff, he looked directly at Shuhe, the cig still between his lips. His legs were parted, fingers grazing his bulge, a sight which made Shuhe smirk wider even though the shiver in his shoulders was blatantly visible.

Thrill or tense, he had yet to discover.

Shuhe did not blink. His eyes remained fixated on the man in front of him, knees aching from kneeling down for long.

But who was he to complain?

"Strip," was all that Ziang said. And Shuhe didn't spare a breath to follow his command.

He took off his shirt and slipped down his pants along with the boxers. Once bare, he got down on his knees once again and looked up, staring right into the eyes that seemed to glare straight into his soul without mercy.

"You were pretty confident back there," Ziang said, slipping the cigarette from his mouth and holding it between his fingers, "Lowkey expected you to power bottom the shit out of me."

"Who said I couldn't?" Shuhe questioned him straightaway, "But as much as I like to tease, I enjoy being controlled as well."

There was no lie to this. Shuhe could be a menace if he wanted to. But regardless of that particular skill, people like Ziang were the ones he wouldn't dare to be unruly with.

And that's were the pleasure lay, according to him.

Desperation clinging to obedience that brought forth his abiding nature and later receiving all the nurture that he'd crave for throughout the time.

"That's cute," Ziang responded with a chuckle, drawing another drag from his cigarette.

"I have a few rules during this entire thing by the way," Ziang mentioned after a pause, "Escapism has its limits too, you know. First of all things, we aren't going to kiss during the entire time-"

"What-"

"Did I ask you to speak?" Ziang's voice dropped to an octave, a deeper tone that took Shuhe by surprise. Fingers caressing his jaws earlier now gripped them tightly, his gaze focused entirely on the man under the force.

"Did I?"

"No-"

"Then shut up and listen," he took another puff from his cigarette and continued, "I must see how good of a bottom you can be and if you fulfill that then- then I might consider something?"

Shuhe did not look up.

The smile curling up his lips was immediately suppressed by himself, lest the other saw before he could hide it.

"And- what do you want your safe word to be, mn?"

"Tempo," Shuhe replied, his voice quiet.

"Really?" Ziang raised a brow, his forehead creasing in the notion that he had a few questions to ask.

But he didn't.

"Alright."

Ziang dropped the burnt cigarette into the ash tray and got up. He slowly walked towards the huge bed that was placed right at the centre of the room and stood there for a while.

He took off his shirt first, the material peeling off his skin like something molten. It lay in a heap on the floor, joining the clothes Shuhe had discarded earlier.

The latter wouldn't dare to lie - this man was actually hot. Ziang had the perfect figure of some athlete, his muscles strong and his toned abs visibly contrasting with each breath he took. He watched him take off his pants until he was as bare as the other breathing person within the room.

Shuhe didn't stop staring.

Not at all.

"Walk up to me."

Shuhe immediately got up and walked towards Ziang, to where he stood, right in front of his bed. As he drew closer, Ziang quickly wrapped his hand around his waist and pulled him towards himself, his own form colliding with Ziang's chest.

"You look so beautiful," Ziang breathed upon the shell of his ear, "Absolutely breath taking," he ran fingers on his body without restrictions, scratching and trailing down slowly, seductively, almost like a punishment.

Ziang's motions halted when he felt something uneven upon his back. Shuhe's breath hitched at the pause.

He knew the questions were coming, the same ones that every stranger asked him when he was lying bare beneath them, letting them touch him in ways they wanted.

He didn't want to face them again.

But he had to.

"You are so pretty," Ziang trailed off, completely ignoring the scars that aligned so well with the motion of his fingertips, his actions making Shuhe extremely confused for a second, "So fucking pretty. Has anyone ever said that to you, XiaoXiao?"

The way his name rolled out from that man's lips made Shuhe quiver all over, his erection growing painfully hard, making him forget all his suspicions from earlier.

Ziang didn't stop, as he trailed his fingers over the curve of the other's ass, "Fuck- you're gorgeous. Your skin would look so lovely, all flushed red after I spank you over and over again, have you strapped and bent over, ready for me to do as I please with your body."

Shuhe bit his lip and arched backwards, trying to hold back a moan, the words alone from the man making him leak a visible amount of precum from the tip.

Fuck why is he teasing me like this? What the fuck does he want?

"On my bed," Ziang ordered. Shuhe climbed up, crawling and lying exactly at the centre, his legs spread out, hands pressed to the sheets by his sides. He looked around and couldn't take his eyes off all the toys that lay scattered across his own desk.

Ziang caught him staring and smirked.

"Oh I know what you want," he said, fingers fidgeting through the items that Shuhe had his eyes on, "And I'll definitely give them to you."

"Hands in front," Ziang commanded as the other quickly brought his hands in front of him, so that Ziang could cuff them. The handcuffs weren't the usual metal ones, but softer and leathery, with fur bordering the outer surface. Ziang then took a blindfold in his hands and looked at the man in front of him.

"May I?" he asked with a sinister smile.

"Go ahead," Shuhe's confidence made the other chuckle as he proceeded to blindfold him. Soon, Ziang grabbed his hands and pushed him back on the bed, as Shuhe fell over and Ziang was now entirely on top of him, his hands pinned on the other's, totally restricting every form of motion that Shuhe could ever think of.

It wasn't that he was thinking of any to be honest.

Shuhe couldn't see anything. But he could feel, fingertips tracing down his bare chest in a languid fashion, nails dragging down his abdomen, fingers pinching his sensitive nipples, and once, in a sudden attempt, a pair of lips leaving a prominent mark on the skin above Shuhe's left nipple.

The teasing was already too much, and Shuhe couldn't help but beg for more.

"P-Please— " he moaned, slightly arching backwards under the grip of the other's hand around his waist.

"What do you need, pretty boy?" Ziang teased him more, slightly pinching the inner soft portion of his thigh, making the other whine, the tingling sensation of the pain shooting across his body and leaving him writhing.

"Y-You- fuck-"

There was silence for a moment, an insignificant split of seconds before Shuhe felt his legs being roughly held and lifted up in the air with a ferocity that seemed to knock his breath away.

Callous touches now became rougher, fingers gripping the supple flesh of his thighs in a hold that made them ache. Shuhe felt his legs being supported on something— shoulders. His thighs savored the warm breath of the other, a tongue streaking down wet streams towards the interiors and before he could realise further, he felt a warm lick against his hole.

Shuhe's breath hitched, the lick alone drawing a loud moan out of him. He heard a chuckle, a short curse that disappeared right when the tongue darted deeper inside him, making him toss his head to the side and choke on a sound that hovered as a confusion between a whimper and a sob.

"Fuck— you taste so fucking good," Shuhe was sure that the man was smirking against his skin, the tip of his tongue diving in once again, walls clenching tighter around the muscle, the squeeze drawing a groan out of him.

It felt filthy. Too raw. Too intimate. Like he was already being fucked open.

But again— who was he to complain?

Ziang gripped his legs tighter, grabbing him at his knees, tongue now lapping at the softness of the skin that lay the closest to his hole. His right hand slowly travelled to the entrance, fingers thrusting in without a caution, spreading him open.

"Fuck- ngh- Ziang— you could have at least-"

"I wouldn't have heard you say my name in that manner if I had warned you earlier, pretty," Ziang wasn't ashamed at all.

He pushed his tongue into the stretch again, licking right into him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs as he proceeded to make the other moan loud and dirty.

Shuhe couldn't think anymore, rationally or irrationally, as all his thoughts were completely demolished the moment that sinful tongue parted him in ways he could only feel.

The thrusts made him twice desperate, urging to ride the face of that man, the smirk from earlier playing in his mind as he twitched under him, the image simply adding fuel to his pyre of desire— the desire of painting that smug face with his release.

Shuhe thrusted upwards without a say, skillfully bucking his hips towards his face, so that his tongue went deeper inside. Ziang didn't protest, the wet muscle already down deep, his actions resonating in a perfect tandem with the other's initiatives.

They didn't require words to understand each other's needs, and that only proved useful when Shuhe began pushing faster into his mouth while Ziang never stop assaulting his spot with his tongue.

"I am surprised at how much you like being eaten out like this," Ziang chuckled when he removed his tongue from the hole, the entrance wet and slick with his saliva. He looked at the man underneath, his eyes dark with lust as he gave his hole another long lick, gaze never wavering from the twisting figure beneath.

"Agh— F-Fuck— Ziang-" Shuhe sunk his teeth on the flesh of his arm, biting down moans that were becoming too obscene for him to hear.

Or rather, sounds that he didn't want the other to hear, for some unexplainable reason.

He had done this before. Too many times to count.

Then why was this feeling so particular?

"Stop that," Ziang's order came in a growl, "Stop biting on your skin. Let me hear all that you have to say. Or rather— moan."

Shuhe didn't know whether it was the command or the action, but the moment a long rough finger slipped into him, he instantly detached his teeth from his skin and let out a long whine.

"Exactly what I had hoped," Ziang said as one finger quickly turn into two, pounding into the hole at a hard and fast pace, his rings hitting the rim like a barricade, not letting him deeper inside.

Moans spilled out of Shuhe's mouth in broken chords as there was no time for him to catch his breath. The fingers hit the right spot over and over again, making him arch backwards, his hands wanting to grab something but completely in vain.

"Look at you," Ziang slurred, fingers still buried deep inside, "Letting me fuck you like this- poor little thing. Fuck! What will you do when you take my cock, hm?"

He leaned forward, placing his lips near the man's ear, "Desperation already surging at its peak— looks like your escapism begs for a break. I bet you want to come right now, don't you?"

"God- yes—ngh- please-" Shuhe couldn't comprehend anything anymore, his sight all blurred, body twitching violently under the thrusts, mind completely in a haze and cock weeping on his stomach for a release.

Ziang smirked at his condition, not reducing his pace by a jot. The cries escaping from Shuhe's lips simply added pleasure to his wants as he thrusted harder than before, making the other beg again and again.

"Not yet," Ziang warned him, "Only when I allow you to. You look prettier now, pretty flushed little thing— the way your hole takes my fingers like it were made just for it. Like you were made just for me, pretty boy."

Shuhe couldn't resist it. He felt hot everywhere, being stretched out like that and getting his hole ravished like that was in fact something new to him.

He was mostly used to rough sex without preps. Or even if it was included, it was way to hasty to be relished on. So this thing of getting fucked open simply by fingers and that too with time was completely foreign to him.

Also— his words.

Every syllable that fell out of that man's mouth kept pushing him to the edge, a sensation that made him know that he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer. He wasn't even touched completely yet. He wasn't even touched everywhere.

Shuhe couldn't help but think— Fuck this! What the fuck will I do when his cock-

"Can you come like this? With just my fingers in you?" Ziang whispered, the grip on the thighs growing tighter, fingers twisting inside, making the other gasp as the sudden motion.

"P-Please— " Shuhe was too wasted to speak further.

"Then- will you be a good boy and come for me?"

"Fuck— yes."

"Then hold it for a bit more for my mouth to savor it when you release."

Shuhe hadn't finished registering his words when the fingers in him were pulled out and lips wrapped around the head of his cock, the base gripped by cold ringed fingers. Shuhe chocked out a cry, the sudden warmth around his hard length making him shiver.

Ziang initially sucked at a slow pace, accelerating it later, soon taking in full of Shuhe in his mouth and bobbing his head on his cock, the slippery sting of his mouth making Shuhe's knees tremble.

Ziang seemed to devour him, and Shuhe was already losing to his attention. He sucked harder, as if in a say to him to come, and Shuhe couldn't hold back anymore.

He came hard, shooting straight into his mouth and when he was finished, Ziang closed his eyes and swallowed his release. Shuhe's body trembled with pleasure, his orgasm rushing through him while moans continued to escape his parted lips.

Ziang didn't stop there. Instead, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked him harder while running his tongue beneath the underside of his cock, desperate for more of his taste that seemed to seep from his tip in weak drips. The way his cock throbbed inside his mouth and made his throat choke— it made Ziang's own erection spring to his stomach, almost irresistible to be trapped any longer by decisions.

"Fuck already—" Shuhe whimpered out, much to Ziang's amusement.

"Needy much?" Ziang spoke as he raised himself off his cock, mouth wet in slick, voice already wrecked.

Shuhe spoke in unrecognizable syllables, but those were enough for Ziang to make his next move. He stepped down the bed, grabbed a condom from the desk and tore it open, his eyes still on the blindfolded man as he rolled it on his cock.

Shuhe kept his restrained hands over his head, crossing it at the wrist, legs spreading wider as the bed dipped therein and Ziang crawled in between them. He gripped his knees and arched them towards his chest, his hole parted open for him as he slowly slid inside, taking his time and giving Shuhe space to adjust to his size first.

"Taking me so well, pretty," Ziang exhaled a hot breath, "So good for me."

The pause felt unnecessary. But it lingered anyways.

Shuhe let out a silent gasp when Ziang was completely inside him. The latter leaned down and nipped him at his neck, consecutive spots sucked slow leaving bluish marks bordered red. His nipples were clad by his breath, one slipping into his mouth as he sucked on it until it was swollen and red, later tracing his tongue around the areola.

"Tell me when to move and— "

"Move— " Shuhe muttered before sinking his teeth upon his lips, still reluctant to let out groans that were stuck at his throat like a lump owing to every move that the other experimented on him.

Ziang laughed at his request, "Ordering me now? You do sound cute like that, wouldn't lie."

Ziang grabbed his hips and pulled back slightly so that his head caught at the entrance and then rammed back mercilessly into him with so much strength that Shuhe's scream came in a screech. Ziang quickened his pace, doing this again and again, slamming his cock deeper than the earlier, abusing the same spot over and over again.

"So fucking good— fucking sloppy," Ziang's praises were punctuated by guttural moans, nails digging into Shuhe's knees, head jerking backwards in pleasure.

Shuhe couldn't see anything. He could only hear, the raspy voice of the man above him, the slouchy slaps of skin hitting skin, his loud whines mingling with the deep moans of the other, boundaries blurred, voices indistinct.

He could feel, the feeling of being ravished so hard that every corner of his body tingled. Ziang didn't stop, loudly continuing to ruin the man underneath in an animalistic pace, faster and wilder with every new thrust. Moans and groans filled the room in unabashed stances, desperation posing a perfect adjective to each of their actions.

Shuhe was ecstatic, diving freely into the overstimulation of pain and pleasure, an overstimulation that made him forget all his worries at least for the moment. Every thrust made him choke on his own saliva, tears cascading down his cheeks beneath the blindfold and nails clawing at the flesh of his hands as they had nowhere else to grip on.

This was the only time he felt accepted. The sole moment when he felt real— like he was living, not surviving. Like he was a choice, not a burden.

Ziang's tongue on his body rearranged his thoughts once again, as the former licked at his abdomen like a starved man, like an obsessed individual, while continuing to fuck him like there was no tomorrow.

Ziang curled one of his hands around Shuhe's cock and began jerking him off, creating a rhythm with every thrust that he delved into. Every twitch from the one he fucked, every breath, every fucking movement made him feel entirely different, something odd shifting within even when he strived to shove it away.

I've fucked so many before. Then why on earth does he feel so fucking different?

"Ngh— Ziang I— I fucking- " Shuhe managed to pant a request, the words still incomplete.

"Go ahead. I'm not stopping you, am I?"

Shuhe came in a mess, shooting his release with a shudder, thick rivulets scattering all over his own self and bits across Ziang's chest and stomach. Ziang wasn't far behind, as he too came seconds later, stuttering slightly at the overwhelming pleasure.

He pulled out of him and loosened his blindfolds, freeing his hands after that. Shuhe was too tired to even speak. Fucked to his satisfaction and exhausted to the core, he simply laid back, as Ziang covered him with sheets after cleaning him with wet wipes and later joining him under the covers.

They didn't move for a while, neither did they exchange words. Both tired. Both contented.

Both feeling the tingling little sensation within.

This warm little feeling of wanting the other, to care, to protect, to hold close. Hearts beating like crazy, not entirely from the events before, but mostly from the unexpectedly comfortable silence that settled between them as an aftermath.

All their lives they had never felt like that for even once.

Then why now?

Shuhe didn't ask him anything, and neither did Ziang initiate a word. Too tired for anything more, the latter turned to the other side of the bed, back facing Shuhe. A smile curled up his lips, reasons yet to be sorted as he closed his eyes and didn't take seconds to fall asleep.

He was still unknown to the fact that his smile before falling asleep was totally equivalent to the one presently etched upon Shuhe's lips.

He turned around too, facing opposite to Ziang, his body aching in a thrum that made him feel like he was reborn. Shuhe knew he had a lot to sort, but for tonight, he could keep it suspended.

He could pretend that he had belonged, once again, at least for a night, even if it was all under a facade of false pretense.

'Cause that was all what his happiness was built on.

Pretense.

And perhaps, things weren't too different for Ziang either. Somewhere in that thin line that still separated them, somehow, they had already found a rhythm that neither wanted to lose.

Just as he was about to drift to sleep, Ziang heard a notification ding in his phone. He extented his hand to the bedside table and grabbed the device to check the message and within a second, his entire mood was ruined by seeing the sender's name.

Mentally complaining to himself, he opened the message and no sooner had he read the contents, than he froze.

The message was a picture and a text— the man in the picture being none other than the the same who lay asleep right behind him at that moment.

Under it was a short text, written:

Z.C : Your next target. Boss's orders. Hunt him down within 3 days, dead or alive and without any fail.

Chapter Text

Shuhe's back hit the wall as he watched the man walk slowly towards him in the dark. His heart throbbed faster, footsteps drawing dangerously close to him with every passing minute.

He wasn't even touching him yet, nor was he too close to him. But his sharp specific gaze lingering all over Shuhe's clothed body with a clear expression of disapproval was perfectly enough to make the boy shiver and feel exposed.

Shuhe gasped as the man took off his coat and dropped it carelessly on the floor, long fingers working next to loosen his tie. His gaze was hungry, fused city lights shimmering through the windows revealing a glare that resembled a predator's, lust and intense desire flickering in his eyes like he could devour his prey all at once.

And Shuhe— he didn't mind the gaze. He enjoyed it, entertained it— a subtle, almost involuntary smirk lifting the corners of his lips at the sight of the silhouette drawing closer and closer to him.

This is torture— Shuhe moaned to himself, now savouring the tingling feeling of his warm breath against his neck and a strong hand slipping around his petite waist.

Shuhe was desperate, his thoughts converging to a single question as to why was his patience being tested like this and why wasn't he commanded to be bare already.

Because this— this teasing, this slow play, this intentional procedure of irking was so unlikely of him.

Shuhe, as usual, had expected himself to be stripped off his suits and thrown on the couch and hence, he couldn't help but wonder as to why was he still free and not pressed on the couch or riveted against the wall while getting fucked the living hell out of him.

The exhales against his neck were ragged now, the air hitting his skin at a faster pace, soon to be replaced by slow, wet kisses. Shuhe's hands mindlessly travelled to the man's chest, fingers desperate to feel the tough muscles beneath the fabric. But before he could grasp his shirt, his hands were roughly clasped and pinned against the wall above his head by the man's other free hand.

Shuhe nearly screamed.

"Z-Ziang— "

Duan Ziang simply smirked at him and traced back to take his time, slowly kissing and sucking on the soft skin that served as the meeting point of his neck and shoulder. The hand disappeared from Shuhe's waist and was now fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt, plump lips still busied on his collarbones.

Ziang was indulging himself in the rich scent of his beloved, tasting every inch of his skin and creating reddish blue marks all over. The slow moans escaping from Shuhe's mouth turned him on even more, his own mouth travelling up in one swift motion from his neck to his jawline and finally on his lips.

Soon, Shuhe's little moans were cut off by Ziang's mouth tightly sealed on his.

The kiss was rough, yet hot and passionate. Ziang didn't waste a single chance and engulfed every moment in exploring Shuhe's mouth, tasting and savouring in that hour of heat. Their tongues fought for dominance, which of course Ziang won without a question.

As Shuhe granted him entry, parting his lips wider, Ziang let his tongue savage every corner of his mouth. Shuhe tasted of strawberries and honey, the former owing to his lipgloss and the latter definitely due to something sweet he had eaten earlier.

Ziang smiled into the kiss as Shuhe gladly responded back to his actions by smooching him harder. They pressed against each other, their hard ons grinding with Ziang taking the lead, gradually delving into the passionate hour that kept them tangled together to each other.

They paused for a second, breathing heavily against each others' mouths, a string of saliva connecting their lips. Ziang looked up at Shuhe, his eyes still hungry and clearly craving for more, like a beast who hadn' hunt for long and was now prepared to grab anything that was on his way.

His grip around Shuhe's wrists tightened as he edged closer to him, eyes never leaving his trembling prey, mouth never losing the glistening smirk.

"Z-Ziang gege— "

"Yes baobei?" Ziang called him softly, the whisper of his nickname slowly trailing down his neck, where moments ago he had created his lewd masterpieces.

"I-Is it—" Shuhe stammered, "Is it- okay to d-do it here? I-If someone— "

"Baobei," Ziang whispered lowly, almost like a warning, like a reminder, "Did you forget this that I own this entire fucking place? No one would dare to walk inside without— "

"B-but the cameras— "

"This is a private room, cupcake," Ziang answered cooly, lips casually brushing against the shell of Shuhe's ears, "There are no cameras here. But the walls may not be soundproof enough to contain your screams within and not let them outside the room."

Shuhe gasped slightly while Ziang's chuckle flowed a little too easily.

The grasp around his wrists loosened, and Shuhe's hands fell freely to his side but immediately travelled to Ziang's chest, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. Ziang knew what he wanted, and with a single glance of approval, he nodded. Soon, Shuhe's hands started working on the man's shirt, unbottoning it as fast as he could, seeming too desperate.

As for Ziang, he had started his part too.

"Tsk! Running away from practice hours to get fucked by the CEO," Ziang whispered, his hands grabbing Shuhe's still clothed bottom, groping and kneading it hard, instantly making the latter whimper, "You find it hot, don't you baobei?"

"But- But it's over Z-Ziang— "

"Oh no sweetheart, this isn't the first time after all," Ziang chuckled, his hands now working on undoing the clothes that separated his touches from Shuhe's skin, "Don't you remember how you had lied to everyone at the academy that you had something important to deal with— only to walk in here and get fucked by me right at my office desk?"

Ziang mouthed at the lobe of his ear, his tongue peeking out to get a taste, "You're such a sly little troublemaker, aren't you?"

Shuhe moaned again, fingers digging into the bareness of Ziang's chest. Ziang now began undressing him without breaking their eye contact, not even for even a second. He first started with unbuttoning Shuhe's shirt, intentionally prolonging the act in order to provoke his partner.

Shuhe squirmed under his grasp, urging him to quicken. Ziang simply laughed in response.

He removed Shuhe's shirt from his shoulders, the cold air of the room embracing his slim pale figure, making him shiver. Ziang's long, rough fingers had already travelled to his perky nipples, rubbing slow circular motions on them with his fingertips, making his boy gasp and moan. He then traced them down to his abdomen and then back to his chest again, aimlessly roaming his hands all around the artist's slim body. Ziang's thumb once again grazed against Shuhe's pebbled buds, making him inhale sharply.

"Gosh! So needy, aren't you?" Ziang whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave, almost like a growl, "Fuck! The way you move underneath me, hearing my name from your lips, the look on your face when you cum— an absolute masterpiece, aren't you baobei?"

"S-Stop making me like this— " Shuhe whimpered, his voice low and needy. "P-Please— "

"Please what, beautiful?" Ziang teased him in that same strained and mocking voice, the tone that made Shuhe tremble on the edge and go twice crazy in need.

"J-Just— fuck me!"

"Tch! Desperate enough?"

Ziang lead him to the couch, the short walk involving all series of fabrics peeling off their bodies and littering the floor. He pushed Shuhe on the soft furniture and slowly crawled on top of him.

Shuhe tried not to move much, the chilly ambience of the room embracing his naked body making him shiver but even then he strived not to create any motion.

Ziang's lips were still busied on the crook of his neck— kissing, biting and teasing that spot.

He paused, smirked against the bruised skin and latched his mouth on the same spot again to continue with his ministrations. He had a clear obsession for it— marking his beloved to make him remember who he belonged to— a strange surge of possessiveness that was warmly welcomed by the other.

Ziang slowly trailed down, rubbing his lips against the younger's warm skin. Chaste kisses fluttered upon his lover's body, sometimes light, sometimes complete with a deep suction and a bite. Shuhe's moans served as coy permissions, the sweet approvals of allowing him to do whatever he wished for was slowly driving him insane.

He continued to savour the sweat beaded skin, lips travelling downwards while smooching every inch of the delicate body and not leaving a single spot untouched.

"Someone seems too eager, I see," Ziang's smirk was clearly visible in the bluish hue that filtered through the windows and colored the otherwise dark room. His fingers wrapped around Shuhe's painful erection, intentionally brushing his thumb against the tip and making the other cry out almost immediately and throw his head backwards.

"Ziang— pl-please— " Shuhe called him desperately, his body bound at his mercy and permitted only to slight wriggling movements. Ziang leaned forward and brought his mouth closer to Shuhe's to brush it slightly against his but not in a kiss.

Shuhe chased his lips and tried to lurch forward, but was immediately stopped by Ziang.

"Needy much huh?" Ziang teased him, his dark obsidian eyes piercing a direct, unwavering gaze towards Shuhe. His fingers were still warm around Shuhe's length, working at a callous pace that simply made the other more impatient.

"Fuck— Ziang gege please— I- I want you in- in me— " Shuhe managed to gasp in between moans and groans, the sensation from beneath driving him out of his wits.

"Awww do you?" Ziang cooed at him, "Well, my baobei's whims are my commands. How can I not abide by them?"

He fished a condom out of his trouser pocket and tore the packet with his teeth, a sight which Shuhe found hot without a doubt. As Ziang busied himself, Shuhe simply laid back on the couch and watched him. Amidst the darkness of the room, still illuminated at places by the distant diffused lights of the bustling city, Shuhe let his eyes graze on his tanned skin, his strong muscles, his sharp chiselled abs and his overall perfection of a body.

Gosh! He is perfect from every angle, isn't he? Shuhe couldn't help but blush at the thought that how he, a simple music student, fell in love with a multi billionaire like Ziang. He had never expected this man— seemingly quiet, mostly introverted and extremely serious all the time— to possess such a gentle as well as a wild side.

Gentleman in streets and a freak under sheets— a perfect statement to describe his gege.

The latter had his fingers smeared in lube, the tips now slowly disappearing inside Shuhe's tight entrance. Ziang's eyes never left Shuhe's face as he kept searching for any probable signs of pain or forced intrusion. When he found none and was verbally affirmed by his lover of the same, he then pushed them deeper inside, three fingers simultaneously invading the channel to scissor the space open.

Shuhe yelped slightly, his toes curling to compensate for the pain, fingers quickly grabbing the cloth that covered the couch and body submitting to occasional jolts.

"Dont behave like you haven't ridden me before," Ziang growled at him, the statement alone making Shuhe blush furiously without a response.

Ziang took his time to stretch Shuhe properly and once he knew he was ready to take him, he settled himself at the entrance, the tip of his cock nudging the rim. He grabbed Shuhe's legs and placed them on either sides of his shoulders, slowly folding him and making his knees touch his chest.

Shuhe was fully spread for him, his puckered hole stretched open, his cock leaking on his stomach and his entire form complete under Ziang's mercy.

Ziang slowly pressed inside, first the tip penetrating his tight muscle. He rubbed Shuhe's hips in a gentle manner before bending down to press soft kisses across his face and chest.

Shuhe hissed at the intrusion, his moans coming in cracked chords as Ziang pushed in deeper. His hands clutched Ziang's back, fingernails digging deep enough on the muscular skin to leave marks later on. Ziang's hands were clamped around his thighs, serving as a leverage to maintain both his balance and rhythm.

Once he was completely inside him, Ziang remained still in that position for a moment. Shuhe was still breathing heavily, his chest heaving for more air. A few moments to pass and he finally moved his own hips as a subtle signal to his partner who did not waste another second and started to slowly thrust in and out of him.

"You alright, angel?" Ziang asked, his voice soft and careful yet brimmed with lust and seduction.

"Mmm— F- Faster— " Shuhe's request was deciphered as a command, the call punctuated too many times by his high pitched moans.

"Such a capricious baby," Ziang joked, "And as for your pretty moans— aren't you afraid that someone might hear them?"

Shuhe stared at him in disbelief, his eyes teary and swollen lips trembling without being able to utter another word.

"Stay quiet, beautiful," Ziang whispered close to his ears, his movements making his cock slip deeper inside Shuhe, "You don't want the others to hear us, do you? Be a good boy and keep those pretty lips pressed tight."

Shuhe moaned again, completely ignoring whatever warning Ziang had given him earlier. His slick entrace clenched around Ziang's length, milking him for his release, begging him to move. Ziang clasped the fingers of his right hand around Shuhe's wrists, pinning them above his head and pulled himself in the opposite direction. Throughout the motion, his lips never left the drenched skin upon Shuhe's neck.

His tip caught in the rim and with one teasing lick upon a bite that he had made earlier, he pushed himself inside with a force that nearly blinded Shuhe's vision, his thighs gripping Ziang's hips tighter, knees shaking but not collapsing due to the strong grip upon them.

Ziang didn't stop, neither did he slow down. Each rhythmic thrust proved powerful than the previous, every push deeper than the one it succeeded.

His lips drew lines across Shuhe's chest, fluttering above the dark bruises that he had made moments ago, now splayed upon the ivory tinted skin like reddish blue blossoms blooming on a moonlight blessed canvas.

He kissed them slowly and sweetly, occasionally tonguing at them like a gentle provocation. His thrusts beneath didn't falter and Shuhe didn't shy away from screaming either, especially when the thrusts became exceedingly fast and hit him right at the spot in a tasteful and highly anticipated manner.

"You really don't listen, do you?" Ziang whispered to him, almost in a gasp.

"Ziang— ngh I can't— "

"Relax baobei. This room has soundproof walls. Your beautiful little moans won't be heard by anyone but me so don't worry."

Shuhe wanted to glare at him, but a particular brutal thrust from Ziang immediately forced him to squeeze his eyes shut and arch backwards.

Ziang pushed deeper inside him, making Shuhe choke on a moan and slip his hands from his back to clutch the sheets, eyes squeezing shut, mouth spilling nonsense and aching for more. Ziang quickened his pace a bit more, his lips astray over Shuhe's gorgeous form, his mouth spilling obscene words that had Shuhe's face a flushed mess.

"Ziang I— I can't— "

"Come for me, beautiful," Ziang urged him, still pistoning inside him without a pause, "I want to see your precious expressions when you paint me with your release."

Shuhe shuddered and came right after Ziang had finished speaking. He came in messy shivers, spilling all over both. Ziang continued thrusting inside, chasing the last bit of his orgasim as the climax built up in a tumultuous approach and soon he came as well.

He collapsed on top of Shuhe, his mouth whispering soft strings of affectionate sentences and lovely praises, his fingers painting healing colors across his partner's canvas of a body. They remained tangled for a while, the heat of the moment still thriving in the air but exhaustion preventing them from moving much.

"This was so— "

"Satisfying?" Ziang asked between ragged breaths, his hands now pressed flat against Shuhe's sides.

"Mn," Shuhe whimpered low, feeling highly sweaty and sticky but not really minding any of it.

"Up for another round?" Ziang suddenly sounded enthusiastic, immediately lifting himself off his partner's body.

"Ziang what do you— "

"It's my place and we have the whole night," Ziang leaned closer to his ear and mouthed at his earlobe almost out of a habit, "And you came here on your own..."

"So...why don't we make it to the morning, hm?"