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Nie Huaisang sees him. Jiang Cheng, standing by the pier in his purple robes, looking regal and noble with his hair blown by the wind. Even from far away, Nie Huaisang can see his smile, vague but visible. The boat rushes closer, and closer to him, and with each distance covered, Jiang Cheng’s mighty figure becomes more noticeable. His chin is lifted up. Then he shouts, “Huaisang!”
He mounts from the boat, walking towards Jiang Cheng hurriedly. “Jiang-xiong, ah, sorry for being late. The paperwork job is insane. Approval letters, archives, whatever. I even got fan letters, you know.”
“Of course it is,” Jiang Cheng nods, putting a hand firmly on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder. “Sect Leader Nie.”
Upon hearing the sect leader title being used to address him, Nie Huaisang purses his lips. He cringes slightly, nervously fiddling with the folding fan in his hand. Jiang Cheng seems to not notice, or maybe he’s showing indifference, so Nie Huaisang tries to explain, “it’s really busy…I don’t even have time to paint or write anymore.”
“Yeah. That’s how it is.”
Even as if they are friends, Jiang Cheng still upholds the stern manner of talking, just like the rigid, responsible sect leader he is. It’s not what Nie Huaisang wants, though. Jiang Cheng has been quite a taciturn person in nature ever since the first he’s known him, but Nie Huaisang wishes he could be a little more open, more gleeful to be around. Nie Huaisang himself isn’t the most eloquent, so once the conversation becomes awkward and eventually dies, he has no power to bring it up again.
“Well,” Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath and suddenly says, “you’re here to refresh your mind, so don’t think of things too much.”
Nie Huaisang feels strangely relieved. He grins. “Yeah. Jiang-xiong too.”
They walk away to the Lotus Pier. During the walk, neither talks. Next to Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng walks with his hands behind his back, posture as strict as ever, steps solid and expression tough to read. Nie Huaisang can’t help but steal a few glances. His side profile looks divine; majestic, he’d even say – the sweep of his cheeks, the way his eyelashes stay still, not fluttering as he blinks, the harsh line of his mouth.
Nie Huaisang attempts to not continue looking at him, but fails every time. It’s always like that, each time they meet one another. There is no way to pinpoint when and at which moment he first had his eyes on him. A good back then, maybe, but Nie Huaisang can’t possibly remember. The next thing he knows is that he likes him, terribly so and a lot. Such stupid feelings, but Nie Huaisang knows that he’s felt worse things. Done worse.
“Huaisang, this is your room,” Jiang Cheng nudges at him gently by the hand. Nie Huaisang flinches. It’s a minimalist room, but Jiang Cheng has provided a long table with art and calligraphy supplies for him. “I put some brushes and ink on the table, in case you’d like some relief tonight. As for this afternoon, do you want to go for a walk? Let’s drink together.”
“Mn. Sure.”
It’s going to be a long day. The sun is kind today, not too bright and not too dim. It’s warm. The air is warm, and so is Nie Huaisang. Probably because of the liquor – but mostly because of Jiang Cheng’s presence.
“There is something I should tell you,” Jiang Cheng says, all of the sudden. Nie Huaisang’s heart immediately races. It could be anything, including the long-awaited confession, and he almost rejoices when he realizes that he won’t have to be the one to make the first move and that saves him the worry of getting rejected; that is, if only Jiang Cheng doesn’t reveal a shocking fact, “I’m getting married.”
“Oh,” Nie Huaisang mutters. Softly, slowly, quietly. “To whom?”
“A lady from a minor sect,” the fact that Jiang Cheng doesn’t tell him her name and sect is a huge indication of distress, especially when he adds, “my parents arranged the marriage, but never did tell me. I only knew of this when her father complained to me, about how I never came over, never got to know his daughter, this and that.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. She’s coming over tomorrow. Sorry to interrupt your visit, Huaisang, but please don’t mind us. Feel free to discover Lotus Pier as you like.”
“I won’t mind.”
“Mn.”
Then it’s quiet between the two of them. Nie Huaisang can feel his chest clenching, an inexplicable pain in the depths of his heart, too deep within until he can’t tell where the sting is from. Jiang Cheng’s hand in on the table. Nie Huaisang eyes it for a second, before touching it by pure reflex. Jiang Cheng doesn’t pull away.
“You mustn’t.”
His eyebrows are raised, “why not?”
“Ah, I meant it as, you don’t even know this person—“
“It’s fine, for the sake of fulfilling my parents’ wish. I also heard she’s sweet.”
Biting his tongue, hard enough to hold back tears, but not enough to bleed, Nie Huaisang finally pulls away. Softly, slowly, quietly. “Then that’s nice. It’s probably for the best, Jiang-xiong.”
“Perhaps it is.”
A few minutes later, they depart from the shop. Somewhere in the heart of Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng brings him to a pond. Boating and fishing are banned, so all they can do is to sit and watch at the scenic view. “Did you rent this place? No one’s around,” Nie Huaisang asks.
“There is no need to rent when you are a sect leader,” Jiang Cheng answers. He gestures at Nie Huaisang to sit next to him. “Talk, Huaisang. Let’s talk.”
“What about?”
“Things,” the answer is short. “We haven’t met in so long. There’s a lot I want to discuss with you.”
Nie Huaisang lets the talk go, the conversation flowing like a river, but he can’t remember what was being talked about when evening comes. They talk about their jobs, their childhood – but Nie Huaisang can only assume. His mind is too all over the place to remember. They had sat by the pond and talked on and on, Jiang Cheng’s voice, his chuckles, all loud and clear in his mind, but not what they were talking about. Not that it matters too much, because Nie Huaisang finds himself writing a poem in his room with Jiang Cheng next to him – and at the moment, that’s what matters.
“It’s a love poem,” Jiang Cheng observes. “Anyone in particular you have in mind?”
“Yes,” Nie Huaisang thinks that honesty would be the better option. His hands shake a little, resulting in a squirmy stroke, right as he’s writing the character for ‘love’. An ironic incident. Feeling unsatisfied by the mistake, though, he puts down the brush, to which Jiang Cheng asks why. He answers, “I’m tired.”
“Go sleep, then. It’s late, anyway.”
“Jiang-xiong,” saying that is a total accident, an unintentional error his lips had made. To erase the stiff air, Nie Huaisang sighs and continues with an even more questionable question, “aren’t you going to ask who I am in love with?”
Jiang Cheng’s exhale dissolves into a small chuckle. “You wouldn’t tell me.”
“I’ll tell you,” his shoulders flinch. “But not now.”
The sleep tonight is somehow uncomfortable, the atmosphere empty and hollow. The bed is designed for one person, but his small body leaves enough space next to him for another. He brushes that side with his palm – cold and, of course, empty. Nie Huaisang bites his lip, thinks for a moment, and drifts off to sleep. Softly, slowly, quietly.
Jiang Cheng’s fiancée comes over the next day. She’s a calm woman, nice and polite, but doesn’t look at all interested in him. Nie Huaisang tries to peek on them from a safe distance. It’s really thick between them.
Still, Jiang Cheng looks like he’s enjoying the encounter. Nie Huaisang knows that Jiang Cheng doesn’t get attached to quickly, especially not in a romantic sense – his criteria for a significant other is much more complicated than known, but with his fiancée, he seems to be quite affectionate.
And for someone who doesn’t stand a chance, Nie Huaisang probably shouldn’t be distraught over it, but he ends up locking himself in his room, trying to write a single line, only to crumple each sheet in frustration.
“Please don’t waste my papers,” Jiang Cheng tells him, once the night, young and warm, comes by again. Nie Huaisang doesn’t answer. “Sure you don’t need me to accompany you all the time? Why did you throw a tantrum?”
The tone is sour, acerbic, so tinged with vitriol than Nie Huaisang hates himself, for whatever reason. Jiang Cheng changes the subject, “I take you’ve seen my fiancée this morning.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think?”
Nie Huaisang gives himself to think. “She suits you.”
“Well,” he shrugs, then scoffs. His breathing is heavy. “That’s not what she thinks. She’s going to elope with another man next week. Kind of foolish to tell me so, I’d say, but that’ll avoid further complication.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s not like you have anything to say.”
“Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang speaks up immediately. “Don’t think so badly of yourself, that woman—“
“I know,” he interrupts. “I know. You thought I was upset because she rejected me? How could I be so? My heart is not made of cotton,” Silence. He continues, “I’m somewhat happy, actually. There is no point marrying someone I have only met this day. Besides, surely, there is somebody else.”
“There is?” Nie Huaisang doesn’t intend to exclaim, but his voice comes out louder than planned. Jiang Cheng gazes at him. Softly, slowly, quietly.
“You wouldn’t tell me your beloved before, so why should I now?”
Nie Huaisang, “It’s you.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s always been you.”
Jiang Cheng is in complete loss of words. He doesn’t utter a single sound; he probably stops breathing all over too. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing is fine.”
“Then I’ll settle with reverse psychology. First, I’ll tell you why I was so angry. The person I love told me that he’s had someone in mind, and when I thought that I’d be able to get over that once I get married, other things happened. Second, I’ll tell you who it’s always been for me,” he stops here. A long, dragging pause. “You.”
Nie Huaisang tightens his throat, surprised speechless. “Me?”
“You,” there is a smile over Jiang Cheng’s lips, which part for a deep sigh. He walks over to Nie Huaisang, then, tugging a finger under his chin to force Nie Huaisang to look at him in the eyes.
He leans closer, and kisses him – softly, slowly, quietly.