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“Do you ever wonder if we’re really just a projection? Or, like, a computer program?”
Jiang Cheng lowers the map to stare at Huaisang. “Are you high?”
Huaisang stretches out on the hood of their rented pickup truck and looks up at the stars. “Maybe we’re just characters in someone’s stories, and they can’t decide how they want our lives to play out, so they rewrite everything a million times — our first meeting, our first kiss, our adventures.” He shifts, and Jiang Cheng can make out his beloved, mischievous grin in the light of the full moon.
“Seriously, though. Are you? High?” He folds the map carefully. Though bright, the moonlight isn’t enough to actually read by, and their phones have both died, and neither of them brought their charging cords. “Because if you are, then A, not fair and B, what would Mingjue-ge say if he knew?”
“I’m not high, A-Cheng. I’m just thinking.”
“And you couldn’t put that galaxy brain to better use trying to figure out how we got so lost?”
They had been chasing down a stray fierce corpse at the request of the clan in whose territory they had taken a vacation. The clan was busy with preparations for the heir’s coming of age ceremony, and it only seemed polite to help out since they were in the neighborhood, so to speak. But the roads out into the high desert quickly turned to little more than tracks, and it wasn’t long before Jiang Cheng deemed them to be hopelessly lost and decided to stop rather than drive further into the scrub.
“You can actually see the galaxy out here, A-Cheng.” Huaisang points to the canopy of sky above them, and indeed, out here, far from the artificial lights of civilization, the river of the Milky Way undulates above them.
“It’s nice,” Jiang Cheng admits.
“Nice?” Huaisang sits up. “Have you no poetry in your soul?”
“You know I haven’t,” Jiang Cheng says, grinning back at his husband.
Huaisang pouts at him. “I don’t know why I married you, I really don’t.”
Jiang Cheng walks around the truck until he’s standing beside Huaisang. “Of course you do,” he says as he runs a hand up Huaisang’s bare leg.
Huaisang shivers under his touch. “That’s not why I married you,” he says, voice going rough. “That’s why I let you fuck me.”
“Shameless,” Jiang Cheng says, voice low now.
Huaisang shrugs as he tries to ignore Jiang Cheng’s wandering hands. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my questions.”
“Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with trying to get us back to town.”
“We can stay out here tonight,” Huaisang says. “We’ve got blankets and sleeping bags, water, some snacks. Your sword, my sabre and fans. A few warding talismans, enough to keep us safe for a night.” He stops Jiang Cheng’s hand as it inches towards his waist. “You’ll keep me warm, won’t you?”
“Yeah, of course I will.” He helps Huaisang down from the hood of the truck, and they make a cozy little bed in the back of the pickup. Jiang Cheng sets a ward on the vehicle while Huaisang activates a warming talisman and shoves it down to the foot of the sleeping bags. Once they’re settled, Huaisang rolls to his side and rests his hand on Jiang Cheng’s chest.
“But seriously.”
Jiang Cheng strokes Huaisang’s arm. “I don’t think about it,” he says.
“You don’t think about our place in the universe? Not even a little?”
“Not even a little,” Jiang Cheng replies. “I know where I belong. I know what my purpose is. I’ve known it since I was nine years old.”
“What, really? Nine?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“How could you know when you were nine? Weren’t you obsessed with Mulan when you were nine? You can’t tell me you think your purpose is to save China.”
“Not China,” Jiang Cheng admits. “But I did identify, maybe a bit too strongly, with how she takes care of her family.”
“And Li Shang didn’t have any influence?” Huaisang teases.
“Naw,” Jiang Cheng says, refusing to take the bait, “but Wei Ying and I did try and summon our own dragon.”
Huaisang’s peal of laughter floats out over the open desert. “That’s right! You guys burnt down the conservatory! And it was right before what was supposed to be our first sleepover. Oh.”
Jiang Cheng smiles to himself and kisses the top of Huaisang’s head.
“Oh. You met me when we were nine.”
“I did.”
“Jiang Cheng, you cannot tell me you thought you would marry me when we were nine!”
“No, of course not. I thought kissing was gross. I was mad at jiejie for getting betrothed to Zixuan. But I knew that you were important, and that family was important, and that I would spend my whole life trying to keep you all safe and happy.”
Huaisang is silent for so long that Jiang Cheng fears he may have fallen asleep, but then he hears a quiet sniffle, and Huaisang moves to wipe his eyes.
“What?” Jiang Cheng turns on his side so he can look at Huaisang. “What’s wrong?”
Huaisang smacks him in the chest. “You can’t just say stuff like that, you ass! You need to give me some warning!”
“Aw, no, come here,” he says, gathering Huaisang to him, “it’s okay.” He kisses Huaisang’s forehead and cheeks. “Don’t cry.”
“Don’t make me cry!” Huaisang sniffs loudly and wipes his eyes again.
“I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry.” Jiang Cheng holds Huaisang until he’s calmer. “You know,” he says, when Huaisang’s sniffles have subsided, “I have always wondered, if we painted a tunnel on a wall, like in cartoons, if we could convince Wei Ying to just, you know, run at it, full tilt, just to prove we’re not in a cartoon or simulation.”
Huaisang laughs. “If not him, Jingyi would probably do it, and then we wouldn’t have to worry about Wangji’s wrath.”
“Smart. Although Jin Ling is awfully protective of his cousins. We might just have to be content not knowing and just live with what we have in front of us.”
“I guess I can live with that,” Huaisang says. He shifts around until he’s satisfied with the way Jiang Cheng is holding him, and soon enough, his breathing slows and evens out. Jiang Cheng is almost asleep when his husband’s soft, sweet voice reaches him at the edge of consciousness.
“You are my purpose, too, A-Cheng.”