Chapter Text
"When will you finally allow me to comb your hair?"
Bo Ya slowly turns his head away from his mirror when he hears the familiar voice ask another familiar question. He had heard the sizzle of a portal opening before he heard the sound of Qing Ming’s voice but only when Bo Ya hears the footsteps in his bedroom does he finally face him.
Bo Ya raises a singular brow in question, as the man in white casually sits on the chair Bo Ya has prepared for him.
(Initially, Qing Ming had once taken comfort in sitting in Bo Ya’s bed as he waited for him, so Bo Ya had no other choice to prepare a place where he could sit. Qing Ming could freely enter his room but he drew the line in letting the man sit in somewhere suggestive.)
“And when will you stop abusing the access I gave you?” Bo Ya finally quips.
Qing Ming places his fingers on his lips in contemplation before flashing Bo Ya a grin, “It is not considered abuse when you yourself have given me permission to visit.”
Bo Ya rolls his eyes at the man seated across for him. “I told you to come when you have urgent matters to discuss. Not to come even before my attendant has woken only to bother me with trivial things,” he says. “How is it that you keep arriving earlier than Jiang Huan does?”
Qing Ming laughs, in the low light of Bo Ya’s room his eyes still glisten with mirth, “Jiang Huan and I have an agreement.”
Bo Ya tilts his head, his unkempt hair falling off his shoulders, ”What?”
Qing Ming eyes him with intensity and the corner of his lips quirk up into a suggestive smile, “I’m pretty sure most of your servants and your disciples have an ongoing bet on when you’ll finally allow me to fix your hair. [1]”
“And you’re telling me Jiang Huan is the one that started this bet and is now monitoring the odds?”
Qing Ming laughs as Bo Ya scrunches his brow. Qing Ming rises from his seat and begins to approach him, only stopping when he is but an arms-length away from Bo Ya.
With a gentle shake of his head Qing Ming explains, “Oh no. Jiang Huan is far too loyal to you to have started the betting pool. But-“ Qing Ming's voice rises with unexpected glee, “He is vouching for me.”
That traitor.
“You don’t have to look so betrayed, Bo Ya. The bet isn’t as scandalous as you make it to be,” Qing Ming says. “It’s simply on when you’ll allow me to fix your hair. I imagine the people are only betting on when you’ll let me fix your cap just as how Jiang Huan fixes it for you before you go about your duties. Although that is not the only thing I aspire to do. What I wish is just to touch you and for you to get used to my touch in return.”
Bo Ya can’t believe what he is hearing but then again, he should be used to Qing Ming’s shameless quirks. A blush quickly spreads on his face and try as he might to twist his face in anger to hide his embarrassment, Qing Ming’s smile means the man is not falling for his deception.
The only thing Bo Ya can do to escape is to turn away from him and face the mirror.
But Qing Ming takes advantage of Bo Ya’s embarrassment and begins to position himself behind Bo Ya’s back as his hands begin to caress Bo Ya’s hair.
Qing Ming asks with infinite patience and charm, if he can finally comb it with the gift he has given him. He asks a simple, “May I?” and Bo Ya clicks his tongue, taking a moment - just enough for his heart to calm down - to answer.
Qing Ming is gazing at Bo Ya from the small mirror. The way the man stands behind him almost seem natural that Bo Ya has to bring his thoughts away from a possible future where Qing Ming will continue to be present and offer to comb his graying hair. As Bo Ya contemplates his decision, Qing Ming's eyes are ever patient as he waits for Bo Ya’s reply. Bo Ya had expected another smug grin on Qing Ming’s face but it is only filled with sincere anticipation.
Any other time, Bo Ya wouldn’t need a reason to refuse. And any other time, Qing Ming would simply nod his head and leave after asking him about his dreams. But Bo Ya wishes to experience his peaceful mornings once again and if he refuses now, Qing Ming will not stop disturbing him.
Thus Bo Ya comes to an easy decision.
He opens the well-maintained redwood box, takes the comb inlaid with peach blossoms and presses it into Qing Ming’s hands.
They both understand the implication of the gesture but they each respond differently.
Bo Ya immediately lowers his head, avoiding Qing Ming’s gaze in fear of another teasing while Qing Ming says nothing as he lets his finger tread softly on Bo Ya’s hair. Sweet silence descends on the room when finally Qing Ming smiles, equal parts gentle and smug, as he imagines combing Bo Ya’s hair with his betrothal gift for their entire lifetime together.
“How long did you bet on when I’ll finally cave to your wishes,” Bo Ya asks after a few minutes of Qing Ming brushing his hair. His voice is the only sound in the room aside from the comb moving and Qing Ming has been uncharacteristically silent.
“A day was my first bet,” Qing Ming hums, as he says cheerfully. “Then I lost some gold and I tried again and bet that you’ll cave on my third visit. You didn’t, and here I am ten days of making an excuse to win the bet, just so I could see you.”
Bo Ya chokes on air as he hears Qing Ming’s answer. The man’s hands quickly smooth circle on his back but Bo Ya slaps it away as he turns towards Qing Ming in disbelief, “You bet that I’ll allow you to touch my hair in 10 days?”
Qing Ming nods.
“What would’ve happened if I had not allowed you to touch my hair?”
Qing Ming grins, unnecessarily whispering his answer to Bo Ya’s ear, “Ever since my first loss I bet on several days. It doesn’t matter if you hadn’t answered me for ten, fifteen or thirty days, I would have made a bet on those days too.”
There’s nothing Bo Ya could say to his answer. He is already frozen in his spot as the ghost of Qing Ming’s breath lingers on his ears.
He shakes his head, clicks his tongue and chides, “You better share your earnings with me,” which quickly disturbs the silent atmosphere in the room as Qing Ming chuckles in response.
Qing Ming brushes Bo Ya’s hair with scented oil one final time before he begins to secure it with a dragon crown [2]. He answers, “Of course. It is only natural for husband and wife to share everything together.”
“I haven’t said yes, yet Qing Ming.” Bo Ya grumbles but Qing Ming laughs again. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Qing Ming continues to look at Bo Ya fondly.
“As I said A-ya, we still have plenty of time.”.
When Jiang Huan finally arrives in his master’s quarters, there are already hints of orange in the once dark sky. He is expecting for his master’s hair to be unkempt as he had gone to bed but to his surprise, his master is not only dressed in front of his mirror but his hair has been oiled and brushed till it was gleaming. The smell of it is exceedingly familiar to the box of oils they had received from a young priest just a few days prior. A young priest who may or may not have visited his master’s quarters these past few days just to ask to comb his hair and who has now clearly succeeded.
Jiang Huan has a strong feeling that his master will not be wearing a cap today but he still asks just in case, “Would you like to put your hair in a cap master?”
As predicted, his master shakes his head. “No, I’ll leave it unknotted today. I do not have much to attend to anyway.”
Jiang Huan doubts that statement. He has seen the papers piling up in his master’s study and it is always accompanied by demon-hunting once his master has had enough and needed to relieve his stress. Who knew it only needed a visit from a certain Yin Yang master for his master to finally relax rather than work as if he only had this day to live.
But since his master insists on dressing lazily with his hair tied only in a half-bun, Jiang Huan will not question things any further. Even if he is curious about a dragon crown and a jade pin, that now sits on top of his master’s hair.
As he walks back to the kitchen to prepare his master’s meal, Jiang Huan can’t help but laugh to himself as he thinks that very soon, his master’s robes of black may be replaced to fit a certain priest’s liking. And with each day that passed it was becoming more of a possibility rather than just hearsay of the future.
Jiang Huan just hopes he will live long enough to see his master wear red. After all, he had not followed Qing Ming-daren’ s bet for nothing. The money from his win is more than enough to buy a gift for the couple on their auspicious day and Jiang Huan will not miss it for the world.