Chapter Text
A-Qing is a local internet celebrity in Gusu, with more than 800,000 followers on her YouTube Channel. Her beauty and lifestyle videos are very popular. She was even featured on national TV for her viral cosplay makeup tutorials - her pretty, elfin features – perky turned-up nose, oval face, sharp chin and porcelain skin the perfect art canvas for her talent.
Her most unique feature, however, are her clear white eyes – very pale grey – making her appear blind and adding to her mystic allure.
Her videos are often energetic and lively capturing her audiences’ attention through her liveliness, vivacity, and engaging content.
Her face on this video, however, is subdued, melancholic, defeated – the red rims of her eyes contrasting painfully against their paleness. Her dark tussled hair in disarray suggesting that she had been incessantly raking her fingers across them. She looks like she’s incapable of forming a sentence. Her breaths drowning in soft sobs played out in the full view of her audience.
She is not caring for her appearance at all, she looks disheveled, unkempt – her grief is not at all pretty – not camera-friendly.
A lone violin pierces through the video in a poignant, sorrowful strain that seemed to tug at Lan Xichen’s broken heart.
The weight of grief in his heart confuses him – Jiang Cheng had chosen to disappear more than 6 months ago - long enough for his family and friends to have deemed himself as having moved on with Meng Yao, who had been persistent in his courtship - they had been together since the middle of May.
He was over his heartbreak – why was he grieving now? He could not shake off the ominous feeling … something was wrong. But what is wrong?
He is happy now – isn’t he?
His attention is seized by the screen once more as he spies a familiar street - one he used to walk through every day to meet his A-Cheng so that they could take buy their coffee together – they used to call it their “every day is every day” morning date – a private joke reflecting a shameless description of their brothers’ active sex life.
A-Qing’s shaking emotional voice seeps through the video, “I have been following this story for months hoping for a happy ending for these two lovers. Please forgive me as I was not able to film myself for a proper introduction without breaking down. You will have to settle for the violin to accompany you in this story instead. I hope after seeing this, you will learn to ask WHY…Why is he not here? If his lover had asked this question, our story would have had a different ending…”
The screen turns black. Text appears in big bold red capital letters:
LOVE LETTERS ON A BILLBOARD
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JUNE 1, 2020 (Letter #1)
The screen shows the first letter in young Ouyang’s report.
Lan Xichen fidgets uncomfortably where he stands directly in front of the huge screen – A-Yao had been bringing him his morning coffee after he broke down inside his Starbucks the day after --after-- he still feels a deep wrench in his gut whenever he forces himself to remember that day.
April 20th – a fateful Monday… for the past 7 years their celebrations had become more and more romantic… this year he had felt that his boyfriend would finally accept his proposal. But then everything turned into a nightmare…
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JUNE 8, 2020 (Letter #2)
Hey Love, My Light!
I went to the Park today.
We used to take short walks here when we were courting.
The white clouds were beautiful against the crisp blue sky.
They reminded me of you – you and your colors.
How handsome, pristine and elegant you look in them…
I would give the world to see you in your ceremonial whites!
I do truly, truly miss you!
Don’t you miss me too?
I know you’re hurting; I’m hurting even more than you – BELIEVE ME.
I would never choose to be away from you for even a day, you are my reason for being.
I LOVE YOU. WHAT IS LIFE WITHOUT YOU?
PLEASE. Please answer my calls.
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Lan Xichen unconsciously seeks out his phone and finds it charging at the far corner of the dresser table.
It was a new phone handed over to him by an angry Lan Wangji – who had been so irritated by his crazed habit of checking it every so often that he threatened to throw it under the wheels of the car.
In the end, he had convinced his brother to have his brother's assistant, Wen Ning keep it active but under lock and key. Wen Ning had reported no calls or messages from Jiang Cheng since May.
He wonders if Wen Ning really kept the phone charged and monitored for him if he heard the calls and saw the messages. He felt envious of the possibility that someone else – even someone bound by duty like A-Ning – was able to read the private messages sent from his A-Cheng.
Maybe A-Ning did see the messages and heard the voice mails – he had caught him looking his way with a sad expression in those sincere, dark eyes – he had thought he was just pitying him for his heartbreak – but now – now Lan Xichen begins to see things in a different perspective.
He even saw him flinch when he witnessed Meng Yao’s kisses – Lan Xichen thought he had seen anger and betrayal in the young man’s eyes.
The vision of his beloved (yes, still beloved) frantically sending him calls and messages wakes tendrils of guilt from his darkened mind and sends them swirling INSIDE him like smoke rising to fill empty, forgotten spaces.
Did he move on too soon? He gave up on his love so easily – how long should he have waited for him? Was he so deprived of love and company that he could not wait for an explanation?!?
Instead of fuzz and fog, the smoke gives him a clarity at the made him nauseous: he had fallen into A-Yao’s arms two weeks after Jiang Cheng’s last call – not even 10 days after their anniversary. He never gave Jiang Cheng a chance. A love of 8 long years forgotten in less than 10 days.
He makes his way dazedly across the room to the elegantly designed refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of cold water, drinking half and drizzling the other half over his head in an attempt to feel something else other than failure and guilt.
Water trailed down his hair leaving wet smudges along his collar and shoulders. It left him cold and the floor a little wet, but it did nothing to assuage the heavy feeling in his heart.
The trudges back in front of the TV and as the violin shrieks into a dramatic peak, the screen changes:
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JUNE 15, 2020 (Letter #3)
Hey Love, My Light!
Yesterday, the brat (I love this brat!) brought me ice cream.
Vanilla - of course - it’s your favorite!
I remember the first time you asked me to marry you.
It was a nice surprise finding a ring in my favorite purple yam ice cream.
I should have said yes. I regret it so much now; it physically pains me.
Being married to you continues to be my dream.
Wake me up?
I miss you so much.
I LOVE YOU. WHAT IS LIFE WITHOUT YOU?
PLEASE. Please answer my calls.
(I promise to call your number every hour from 5 am to 9 pm.
Answer. Please.)
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The tears begin to fall afresh at the memory of purple-tinted sticky fingers holding the engagement ring he had commissioned.
It was their second year together, Jiang Cheng had been flustered at his question – believing that he had been triggered into his proposal by Jiang Fengmian’s announcement that Wei Wuxian – the adopted son who had no interest whatsoever in his company – would be CEO and not his own son who had worked himself to the bone for his approval.
When Jiang Cheng said “No” it was not at all a refusal simply a promise of a future Yes! – he was not yet ready for marriage.
He had been pulled into an embrace so hot and sweet and loving – just asking the question was worth all the tenderness and care he received. It was what made his love so attractive – that he could make a man feel that there was no one else in existence in his life – intense, directed, focused passion – so seductive, so alluring, so Jiang Cheng.
It was the first sensual night of their relationship – they had both been so open and vulnerable with each other in their lovemaking, they had decided to move in together the next day.
His legs buckle at the onslaught of emotions accompanying his thoughts. He clambers on to the curve of the posh leather couch tightly hugging folded knees to his chest as the first sob explodes in his chest. He embraces himself like he had the day his 10-year-old self realized his mother had died and that they had burned her body without informing him and Lan Wangji.
Time freezes around him – he finds himself in his mother’s garden. Vividly colored gentian blooms crushed at his feet as he trashes the garden in a rage.
Time flies – he is standing knee-deep in the pond Jiang Cheng had made with his own hands for their 5th anniversary. Lotus petals are strewn everywhere. Only broken stalks remain standing - mute against his anger. Across the other side of the pond, a dying Butterfly Koi lies among the debris. He feels nothing for the fish as he looks on unbothered at its labored efforts.
He watches unaffectedly as Wangji scoops the fish tenderly and restores it to its habitat. His outburst left him uncaring, unfeeling, numb.
Lan Xichen remains unmoving – buried in his thoughts: the video temporarily forgotten.
Until a flash of light wakes him – the screen changes. A message appears on the screen and his body jerks involuntarily as he reads:
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JULY 5, 2020 (Letter #6)
Hey Love, My Light!
There was a story of you with somebody in the news today.
It was for a Charity event.
You looked gorgeous, as always.
He had a pin on the lapel of his yellow shirt similar to the one you gave me – different flower though.
The lady in the news said you were together.
Hey. I got a little jealous.
But I know news people love to parade their speculations as to the truth.
Just know that I TRUST YOU.
You won’t give up on us so easily.
I LOVE YOU.
I hope you answer my calls soon.
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Lan Xichen starts to shake as he reads his own thoughts reflected on-screen – YOU WON’T GIVE UP ON US SO EASILY.
The smoke from his guilt begins to choke him in earnest – forcing his chest to heave violently as his trachea becomes constricted, air unable to reach his lungs.
He feels like he’s drowning…
He is beginning to lose focus when a still-dripping-with-water firm hand wraps around his waist and he is pulled back to a wet, taut chest. He takes hold of his sanity and channels his mind towards the light circular touches at the back of his hand and the low, calming voice in his ear...
“It’s all right… We’ve got this… Relax… Quiet your mind…”
He melts slowly into the wet embrace… when the stirring wail of violin filters into his ear… he turns around he sees Meng Yao’s concerned face. He freezes – then struggles to free himself from the embrace to scramble to the far side of the couch – away from Meng Yao’s grasp.
The shorter man’s face gathers into a confused frown until he too catches the wail of the violin and directs his gaze to the words on the screen.
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JULY 20, 2020 (Letter #8)
Hey Love.
It was a difficult day for me today.
What I would give to hear your voice.
I hope your day was better.
It’s our monthsary today… 99 months.
I LOVE YOU.
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The message is short and sparse. There are no more pleas to answer calls or messages. The mention of the monthsary added like an afterthought.
Something has changed.
Meng Yao stands before the screen - stiff and wary – tension evident in his posture akin to prey waiting for the predator to pounce, uncaring of his dripping, half-dressed state - droplets of water cascading down his wet tresses onto the carpet.
Even as he cowers on the couch, Lan Xichen’s mind registered two distinct things: 1. Jiang Cheng seems to be admitting defeat (Jiang Cheng is an honest, pragmatic, prideful man. He often downplayed the calamitous events of his tragic life. For a person always attempting the impossible to admit difficulty or defeat was definitely uncharacteristic of him. Something terrible had happened.); and 2. Meng Yao didn’t seem to be surprised at the display in front of him.
Lan Xichen begins to observe the other man in the room.
The screen changes before them, the violin sounds strained, desolate.
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JULY 27, 2020 (Letter #9)
My Light!
I received a strongly worded email from Laoshi two days ago.
I never thought people from your genteel family could be so harsh!
It hurts.
It seems the social media and the press have been making guesses about us.
I’m sorry billboards are so public.
I promise if I hear from you, I’ll stop.
I LOVE YOU.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Their FULL attention is riveted to the screen.
A shocked gasp ends the sobbing.
Lan Xichen’s temple begins to pound from the surge of blood flooding his body – HIS UNCLE KNEW!
His grief slowly turns into anger.
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AUGUST 10, 2020 (Letter #11)
Hey!
It’s your brother’s turn to chastise me this week.
For a man who speaks so scarcely, he surely had a lot of things to say to me.
And he knows what to say to hurt me most.
I promise if I hear from you, I’ll stop.
I LOVE YOU.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Lan Xichen snaps out of his stupor, hugging the remote to his chest, as Meng Yao attempts to divest him of its possession.
His head reeling at the anger that increases the pressure on his temple.
HIS FAMILY CHOSE TO KEEP HIM IN THE DARK! They chose not to inform him! To keep him in the dark, while Jiang Cheng was calling out for him!
“You don’t have to see this A-Huan. It is all in your past.” Meng Yao’s voice is shaky and caring as he tries to wring the remote from Xichen’s fingers.
“Don’t you dare say I don’t have to see this! I have never seen this! How dare they not inform me of this! THEY DO NOT GET TO DECIDE FOR ME! YOU DO NOT GET TO DECIDE FOR ME!”
Lan Xichen growls at his boyfriend. His anger threatening to explode.
Meng Yao looks desperate.
The brightness from the screen calls to Lan Xichen.
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AUGUST 17, 2020 (Letter #12)
Your golden lawyer friend sent my office a CIVIL HARASSMENT RESTRAINING ORDER.
They say I’m harassing you and your family.
They get their wish:
From now on, these posts will be all about me.
I would have been angry if I was not so tired.
I LOVE YOU.
I’m not giving up.
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Lan Xichen’s anger flares up.
“YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS! YOU! You –"
He screams his frustrations into the room. Even in his anger, his Lan training steals the expletives from his tongue.
Meng Yao moves towards him, head bowed in supplication, “Your uncle asked me to do it. I am your family’s lawyer. I am obligated to…”
“YOU ARE OBLIGATED TO TELL ME THE TRUTH! YOU ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO KEEP IMPORTANT INFORMATION FROM ME.”
In his anger, Lan Xichen throws the remote towards the wall. He makes a decision as it smashes into pieces.
“I do not wish to stay in a relationship built on a foundation of lies. I do not want to spend another minute with you. Enjoy New York.”
They have just arrived. His bags lie unopened at the foyer.
Lan Xichen wipes his face on his sleeve, retrieves his luggage and his coat, and slams the door as he walks out of the hotel room.
*****