Chapter Text
The temple bells can be heard outside, chiming softly in the wind, as Huang Renjun slowly peels back his nighttime dress and steps into the tub. He shivers at the first contact with the ice-cold water, but steels himself and slips in further, until he’s sitting with the water up to his waist. Laying back and closing his eyes, he concentrates on remaining imperturbable when his grandmother pours water over his shoulders and several of his relatives begin to scrub his body with sponges.
The cleansing ritual is a sacred tradition. It takes place at sunrise and marks the start of the annual Gyeongshin festival. While most villagers experience the festival solely as a time of joy and beauty, Renjun’s responsibility is to carry out the sacred rituals that have been carried down through generations of his family, as the spiritual leaders of the village. As the water runs down his back and his body is thoroughly cleansed of dirt and grime, Renjun is reminded by his grandmother that today he will lead their call to the gods for a good harvest, safety from natural catastrophes, and prosperity for the village. It’s the most important moment of the year and the fate of the village for the coming year rests on his shoulders.
He steps out of the tub carefully and lets himself be wiped down by firm hands. He can feel his senses already beginning to fade out, barely noticing the brush of the towel against his skin. Even the flash of a smile from his cousin, Minhyung, isn’t enough to break the serious and solemn expression on his face. This is Renjun’s mask for today, as it has been for the past six years. Ever since he overtook his grandmother as leader of the religious ceremonies, at the age of 13, his life has not been his own, but rather the gods’ and he’s learned to keep his own emotions under lock and key.
They clothe Renjun in several layers of colourful robes and silks. He sits and stops himself from fiddling with the ornament on the end of his sleeve as his aunt does his makeup and his grandmother clucks and mutters to herself while smoothing down his hair. Finally, Minhyung places the headpiece on his head and gestures for him to go look at the result.
Standing in front of the full length mirror, Renjun doesn’t recognise the person in front of him. He’s dressed in deep amber robes embroidered with intricate gold designs. His face is pale, covered in a thin powder, his lips coloured in full red, and his chestnut eyes lined with dark charcoal. Atop his black hair sits the traditional headpiece, a round ivory disk to represent the moon and long metal tendrils from which hang strings of beads. Renjun thinks that he looks rather ethereal, as if from another world. It’s clearly marked from his appearance that he is the messenger of the gods.
“Good job everyone,” his grandmother sincerely thanks the members of the family who helped with the preparations. She turns to Renjun, surveying her grandson and reaching out to smooth out a crease on his robe. “You must do well today, Renjun. The gods are counting on you.”
He nods solemnly in reply and at the same time hears giggles coming from behind the door. He turns around as it opens and his younger cousins, Jisung and Chenle, make their way in boisterously. They stop and fall silent when they see Renjun, their jaws dropping.
“Renjun-hyung, is that you?” Jisung asks in disbelief, rubbing his eyes in mock horror.
Chenle elbows him to shut him up and he’s blushing lightly when he looks up at Renjun, “You look nice, hyung. I’m sure you’ll do great today.”
For the first time that day, Renjun cracks a small smile. “Thanks, Le,” he says as he ruffles the younger’s hair. “I’ll do my best.”
“Shall we go? You’ve got a long day ahead of you, Renjun.”
Renjun turns towards Minhyung, who’s also dressed in a traditional dark blue hanbok, contrasting with his out-of-place bleached blond curls. He’s holding out his elbow for Renjun, who gladly slips his arm through his friend’s. Arms linked, they exit the room, everyone else bowing their heads in respect.
They move outside and walk along the wooden floor surrounding the ancient house. The morning breeze is soft with promises for the day and the trees rustle in excitement. With every movement Renjun makes, there’s a tinkling sound, from the bells hanging from the end of his sleeves, as well as the beads from the headpiece clinking together. It’s a strange melody, accompanying his every step. Minhyung’s grasp on his arm is comforting and he leans on him slightly, grateful for his presence.
He walks Renjun to the family temple, but leaves him to enter alone, parting with a subtle squeeze of his arm. The inside of the temple is decorated with gold and colourful paintings. Renjun kneels in front of the altar, on which sits a statue of a silver fox, chasing the moon, his long tail flicking behind him. It’s Oon, the protector diety of their village, and also the god which the Huang family has served for generations.
He bows down, robes spread out around him, forehead almost brushing against the sandalwood floor, the beads of his headpiece clicking against the floor. “Oon, I come forward as your faithful messenger, listen to my request and guide me to the path of rightness if that be the road of the wise and kind-hearted,” he utters the customary greeting solemnly and once he finishes, he sits upright again and looks up at the statue of Oon.
“It’s finally here,” when he speaks again, his voice is different, stripped of formalities and soft-spoken. “You know better than anyone that I am ready, Oon, but no matter how hard I try to remain composed on the outside, I can’t help but feel nervous. The expectations are too high and the consequences for mistakes are too costly.
“There’s something different about today, though. Different from the previous festivals… The feeling has been nagging at me since last week, but I became sure when I woke up today. The air is drier, it signals a change. I hope this isn’t your meddling,” He shakes his head and sighs audibly, “But who can know the minds of gods? Us humans can only hope not to be carried away by one of your whims. I know grandma would say that there’s a reason for everything and that the gods’ plan will be revealed in time, but… I don’t like going into things blind. Next time, give me a warning.” His complaint is light, almost teasing. Smiling softly and looking down at his robes, he runs his fingers over the smooth silk. “It’s ridiculous to ask this of a god, but I wish you’d grant me luck just for today. I can’t crumble now.”
***
“Explain to me again why you’re currently in some lost countryside town without WiFi and not here with us for the LoL marathon,” Jaemin’s voice over the phone sounds annoyed. “You promised you’d help me get to Diamond. What the hell happened to loyalty, huh, Lee Jeno?”
Lying on the bed, illuminated by the sunlight coming in from the skylight, Jeno turns over and sighs at his best friend’s caprice, “I told you, Nana, my mom sent me here to take care of my great aunt. It’s not like I had a choice. My grades are dropping and my dad convinced her that an exile from the city would do me good.”
From the other end of the line, Jaemin groans. “Still… I can’t believe you left me with Donghyuck. You know he’s a terrible caster.” Jeno can hear some muffled protests coming from the other end of the line as Donghyuck tries to defend his gaming honor. “Oh shut up, Hyuk, you know it’s true!” Jaemin can be heard calling back to him before returning to the phone, “Now, Jeno, you listen to me, if I don’t make it to Dia this season, it’s all because of you and, boy, you’re going to pay for it when you get back. Gotta go, Donghyuck’s gonna self-destruct if I don’t do something now! Talk to you later!”
And before Jeno can slip in a goodbye, his best friend’s hung up on him and he’s left alone again, his phone hanging loosely from his fist. It’s warm in the small attic room where he’s staying in his great aunt’s house, but Jeno’s so incredibly bored that he’s done nothing but sleep in bed for the past two days since he’s gotten here. The bedside clock indicates 1:32 pm. He tosses the covers off the bed and turns on his side. He would’ve drifted back off to a mid-sleep-mid-stupor state if not for a voice coming from downstairs.
“Jeno! Are you up?” It’s his great aunt’s voice, reminding him of the responsibilities of life and the necessity of socialising.
He doesn’t bother replying and thinks that’ll be the end of it, but is surprised when he hears a knock at his door.
“Jeno?”
With a groan, Jeno drags himself off the bed to open the door. He realises what he must look like, still in pajamas and bed hair at this time of the day, but his great aunt, a small elderly lady with a mischievous personality just smiles up at him. “Great, I’m glad you’re up, I was worried you would miss it.”
“Miss wh-” Jeno starts to ask before it comes back to him. “Ah, the festival’s today! Sorry, it slipped my mind, auntie.”
His great aunt just shakes her head. “It’s fine, who can blame a young man for taking the morning off? Look, I’ve brought you your clothes.” She hands him a folded sky blue tunic. “Tell me if it fits,” she adds, before leaving him, likely to get ready herself.
Closing the door to his room again, Jeno walks to the bed and sits back down before considering the shiny material in his hands. He hasn’t worn a hanbok since he was seven and he’s not especially expecting much from this small town festival, but he’s not yet ready to disappoint his sweet great aunt and he has to admit that some fresh air might do him some good.
Several hours later, Jeno is dressed in the sky blue hanbok, wandering around the colourful stalls of the festival and, despite his best efforts to remain aloof, actually enjoying himself. At first, his great aunt dragged him around the stalls, making him try several games and feeding him different strange, delicious sweets, but when she found her friends, she quickly left him, making sure to slip him some pocket money. Jeno couldn’t help but notice how bright his great aunt and her friends looked, all dressed up in their hanboks and makeup, as if still living out their teenage years. And they’re not the only ones, he notes, as he walks down the streets lined with stalls, that youth and elderly mingle and laugh with the same eagerness, and, as if the joyous atmosphere is contagious, Jeno can’t help but start to have fun himself. He is challenged by two younger boys, introducing themselves as Jisung and Chenle, to a game of ball toss and when he wins, he gives the toy dolphin prize to Chenle anyways, in too much of a good mood to crush a child’s hope and dreams.
Chenle smiles up at him with a full set of teeth, “Thanks, hyung, you’re the best!”
Jisung notices something going on a way off and tugs on Chenle’s hanbok sleeve, “Quick, quick, it’s starting!”
Jeno wants to ask what this important event is, but Jisung waves for him to come see for himself before the two kids disappear into the crowd.
Curious, Jeno follows the direction they went in and notices a crowd gathering rapidly around a stage. By chance, he manages to get a spot where he can see the stage perfectly. A hushed whisper falls over the crowd as the curtain draws back, revealing a lone figure, dressed in red robes and beads, with their back to the audience.
Traditional music starts and, from the first note, Jeno is entranced as the dancer begins to move effortlessly, fabric rippling like water. He twists and turns, as smooth as the wind, white and gold flashing. The dance slows at one point as the dancer falls to his knees, reaching upwards in a movement that resembles a cry for help or a prayer. When the music picks up again, the dancer swirls back to his feet and the dance takes a fervent, frenzied turn, the movements becoming sharper and more rapid until the halting conclusion. The dancer is frozen, holding one of his hands over his heart and the other in the air, turned upwards. He remains standing there, as still as a statue, and, after a few minutes of stunned silence, the crowd bursts into claps and cheers.
Jeno notices the dancer’s face for the first time as the curtains are drawing to a close, that of a boy, with red lips and captivating eyes. His breath catches in his throat and all he can think, even after the curtain closes, obscuring him from view, is the thought ‘ He’s beautiful.’
***
Renjun doesn’t get to partake in most of the festivities surrounding the Gyeongshin festival. Years have passed since he was a child, able to wander around the market stalls, playing games, and laughing without care. Now, the day of the festival is laden with rituals and duties, but nonetheless, it still retains all of its excitement and fervour. He puts his heart into every prayer, blessing the bags of seeds that the village’s farmers bring to him, and whispering words of wisdom to mothers-to-be, all of whom come to him with the hopes of receiving from him a piece of Oon’s blessing and protection. He treats even the smallest concern with the utmost importance and respect, forever aware of the heavy expectations on his shoulders.
The ritual dance is important to him, personally. It’s the moment for him to show what he has rehearsed tirelessly for the past year. Renjun’s body moves automatically, everything from his toes to his fingertips, all the movements flow in perfect, seamless cohesion, and he can’t help but let out a breath of relief when the curtain falls after a flawless performance. He smiles when he hears the cheers of the audience, telling him that he managed to convey all his emotions in the way he wanted.
His most important role, after the dance, is the official village prayer and lighting of the first lantern to mark the end of the festival. The prayer, a solemn moment in front of the village temple, comes as easily as the dance. The words he recites have been passed down from generation to generation and have been engraved in his mind since he was thirteen. His gestures are light and careful, as he lights the incense and prepares the wine to serve to the altar of Oon. When he utters the final words and turns, he is facing the whole of the village, solemn faces lit up by the red light of the torches they carry. Obscurity has already shrouded the sky. The villagers are silent and anticipating, only the hushed whispers of children can be heard as the crowd parts to make way for him.
The priestling walks down the altar steps and in the direction of the pond across from the temple. The bells on his dress chime with every step and he holds his head up high, cradling an unlit lantern in his hands. He sees Minhyung standing by the pond and holding a baton, waiting for him. He nods to him imperceptibly as he reaches his side.
Minhyung smiles slightly and deftly lights the tip of the baton with a lighter before handing it to Renjun, who kneels to carefully light the lantern, then picks it up as he stands straight again. He can feel countless eyes are on him as he holds this red ball of light to his chest. It slips out of his fingers almost effortlessly, floating up towards the night sky as Renjun’s eyes follow its ascent. Pressing his palms together and closing his eyes, he sends up a final silent prayer with the lantern, carrying all his hopes and worries for the village.
When his eyes open again, he’s surrounded by the orange and red glows of lights, as the villagers follow his lead and light their lanterns. In an instant, the lanterns fill up the sky, rising slowly. They reflect in the surface of the pond, alongside the moon, and illuminate the faces of the awestruck villagers. Several children cry out in joy and the village seems to regain its voice as one, as the villagers burst with exclamations, comments, and chatter. Letting his composure drop ever so slightly, Renjun can’t help but smile at the beauty of the moment. This final tradition has always been his favourite part of the festival and it’s almost as if he’s transported back in time, to when he was still a small boy, tugging at his mother’s sleeve excitedly and pointing out the lanterns in the sky.
After the festivities have officially ended and the crowd has started to thin out, Renjun slips out from Minhyung’s surveillance, rids himself of his headdress and wipes away most of his makeup, before making his way around the woods surrounding the temple pond. His favourite spot by pond has been his thinking place for years, the only place where he knows he can be alone, dropping formalities and appearances, to rest for the short time he is allowed to be away from his duties.
That night, however, he’s surprised to discover a figure sitting in his usual spot, a boy in a blue hanbok, bent over and facing away from him. Saddened, but not wanting to disturb the other person, Renjun turns away and accidentally steps on a stray twig.
“Wait!” a voice calls out. Renjun halts and turns around to find the boy in the blue hanbok staring up at him. Under the moonlight, Renjun can see his brown tousled hair and round features.
“You’re him, right? The priestling?”
Renjun should feel uncomfortable, but there’s something about this boy, about his smile and the tone of his voice, that oozes off kindness and puts him at ease. He nods quietly and tugs at the too long sleeves of his ceremonial dress nervously.
The boy stands up and he’s only a little bit taller than Renjun. He looks Renjun straight in the eyes, a smile dancing on his lips, “I saw your dance earlier today. It was…” he pauses to think about the right word, “Captivating. Truly, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Renjun looks away, blushing despite himself, “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.” He thinks the conversation will end there and is ready to turn away again, but the other boy speaks up before he can move.
“Do you want a hotteok?” he asks, bringing a wrapped pancake out of nowhere and handing it to Renjun. “I bought one at the festival and kept it for later. Sorry if it’s a bit cold. Do you want to sit?” He nods over the the spot by the pond where was sitting earlier.
Renjun hesitates, but it’s been ages since he’s had hotteok and he takes a seat on the side of the pond, as the stranger settles next to him. “Let’s split it,” Renjun decrees.
The boy’s grin stretches wider, “Sure!” He tears the hotteok in half and carefully hands the bigger half to Renjun. “I’m Jeno by the way.”
“I’m Renjun,” and he returns Jeno’s smile before digging into the sweet, honey-filled pancake.
The two slip into a conversation easily, with Jeno complaining about how quiet it is in the village and, when Renjun finds out that Jeno is from Seoul, he presses the other to describe his home, the fascinating city he’s only ever dreamed of seeing.
“It’s big, with skyscrapers touching the clouds and the city spreading out for miles and miles. The lights never go out, even at night, and they outshine the stars. It’s also loud, with thousands of people constantly moving, working, dreaming. There’s so much going on that you can’t ever really get bored.” The picture woven by Jeno’s words is nothing like Renjun’s ever seen in his life.
“I wish I could see it with my own eyes,” he sighs softly.
“I could show you around if ever you wanted.”
Jeno’s proposition takes Renjun off guard, but when the other notices Renjun’s expression, he smiles brightly, his eyes disappearing into crescents. He looks so cute Renjun feels something in his chest tighten. “I’d love that.”
They talk about their friends and Renjun promises to introduce Jeno to Minhyung and the other goes on about his best friend, Jaemin, who he describes as a ‘crazy gaming addict.’
“I want to meet him, he seems like a fun person and definitely harmless,” Renjun asserts, after hearing the story of how Jaemin got him and Jeno stuck on cleaning duty for a month after his proposal to his crush had gone horribly wrong.
“Harmless?! I’m pretty sure I almost went deaf last time he sang to Bang Bang Bang at the karaoke room. He’s truly a public hazard,” Jeno whines, holding his head in pain at the memory.
“Bang Bang-?” Renjun asks, confused.
“You don’t know Bang Bang Bang?!” Jeno exclaims in disbelief and Renjun can’t stop his laughter as Jeno imitates G-Dragon by moving his eyebrows unevenly and making finger guns. “Bang Bang Bang!”
Little by little, Renjun feels his mask crumbling around Jeno. His smiles are genuine, not practiced, and he can’t remember the last time he’s laughed this much. Long after he’s finished the hotteok and is licking the honey from his fingers, he realises that Jeno’s fallen silent. The Seoul boy is staring up at the night sky above, mouth slightly parted in amazement.
“The moon is so huge and yellow here. I never knew it could look like that.”
Renjun smiles up at the moon too. “There’s a belief in this village that the moon is the home of our guardian deity, Oon. He sits up there and watches over us.”
“Is that the god you serve?” Renjun is surprised at how natural the question sounds, as if it were normal for people their age to live as religious devotees.
“It is. My family has served Oon for hundreds of years.” Renjun stops, unsure of whether or not he should continue.
The other reassures him, “Go ahead, it’s interesting. I want to know more about you.”
Renjun nods and begins talking about his life, his lessons, his family, the dream messages he receives from the gods, and Jeno listens with round eyes, asking questions every once in a while.
“Have you ever seen a diety?”
“Hmm… Most of the time, they contact me through dreams, but one has appeared to me when awake, once, a long time ago.”
“What was it like?”
Renjun pauses and thinks. “It was strange. Up until that point, we’d been certain that Minhyung would inherit the gift of the gods in the family, so it came as a surprise when I was chosen, as an impure child…” Renjun pauses and there’s something in his gaze that makes Jeno curious but he doesn’t want to pry. “They only appear at crucial moments, you see. The gods only guide us when there is something important to do, a catastrophe to be avoided or a life to be saved.”
“What was it for you?” Jeno asks.
Renjun smiles at his curiosity, “I helped someone. I don’t know if I can say I saved them, but it certainly saved me. From that point on, I found my path in life. I felt like I was worth something. In the eye of the gods.”
Something in Jeno’s heart clenches at the thought that Renjun had ever thought that he was worthless. He wants to question him more, find out what happened to the person he saved, but, instead, he moves closer to Renjun, so that their shoulders are almost touching. “Do you think they have a plan for all of us?”
“Who?”
“Your gods,” Jeno clarifies.
Renjun lets out a chuckle. “ My gods? They’re your gods too, they’re looking over everyone and nothing happens that isn’t in their plan.”
“Then do you think we were meant to meet?” It slips out before Jeno knows what he’s saying and he turns away out of embarrassment, missing the rise of a light blush on Renjun’s cheeks.
“Um… I think so. Everything happens for a reason.”
A smile breaks at the corner of Jeno’s lips. It feels nice, knowing that he’s part of something bigger, that someone cares about him, more than his parents who haven’t called him since he’s been here, more than the adults in his life, who barely give him a second glance.
“It’s fitting, you know, that you serve a god who lives in the moon,” Jeno suddenly speaks up before he can stop himself, “Everything about you, it’s almost as if you’re covered in the subtle glow of moonlight, holding yourself elegantly but also being honest and truthful.“
It’s so dark that Jeno doesn’t notice Renjun’s flustered expression. He doesn’t reply, doesn’t say it aloud either, but Jeno’s smile is so bright, that, the first time he saw it, he thought he was looking at the sun. He smiles to himself at the thought: sun and moon, conversing with each other by the side of the pond.
It’s starting to get late and, although he’s not exactly sure of how much time he’s spent here with Jeno, he knows Minhyung is bound to start looking for him soon.
“I have to go before it gets too late,” he tells Jeno, hesitating to say something more, the words stuck in his throat.
“Let’s see each other again tomorrow,” Jeno interrupts his thoughts.
Renjun’s heart swells. “Yes, I’d really like that.”