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It would have been better to have talked it out before he had left. Now, the distance felt even greater. A letter, a night hunt invite. No words of well wishes, no secret symbols or codes for, ‘I love you,’ hidden between the lines. Just a paper, void of deeper meaning, meant to sit on a table indefinitely. Recently, the Lanling Jin Sect felt excruciatingly lonely. Jin Ling already knew his temperament and resolve: there was nothing to be done.
Unsure of how to conduct himself, he waved about his riches in attempts to woo his unworldly lover. Opposites; yet, they matched each other, like the sun and the sky. -- Revolving around one another unendingly… -- Yet, one mistake cascaded, Jin Ling’s life falling and halting in place. His world was crumbling around him, his soul possibly more damned than those confined to the Burial Grounds. He’d taken several days from work, refusing to exit his room, barely eating. The pain in his heart seemed to quiet his stomach.
On the first evening, of the aforementioned night hunt, Jin Ling took a walk. His sect was quiet. Spectators surely had gone in support of the competing clans. These events were always popular: cultivation disciples, and even some self-assured civilians, trying their hands at capturing game. He watched the trees, with their changing leaves, quietly, shoes barely making a sound as he practically glided over the land.
When had he become so cultivated? It felt like just a short while ago he was in his youth, -- running about, having spontaneous, flirtatious, meetings with the saintly Lan Sizhui. It seemed, despite presently being several years older, his beloved’s loveliness only grew. But now, the chill of the autumn air consumed him, reminding him of his current life. He could not have possibly stayed so young, forever. In fact, if he were asked to return to those days of isolation, he’d refuse with every raging bone in his body.
“Ah, if it isn’t Sect Leader Ling!” Came a familiar, capricious voice.
For a moment, Jin Ling lost his composure, suddenly turning to meet eyes with the one who interrupted his listlessness. His long golden sleeves danced as graciously as the chattering leaves in the trees that lined the street in which he stood. His long black hair, modeled up in a lovely headdress, flowed from the tip of his ponytail.
“Lan Jingyi… What brings you here?” For a moment, he considered hiding away his eyes -- puffy and red. They rivaled only in hue with his cheeks, blushed and chapped from the coldness of the air around him.
“I came to see you, sir.” Jingyi confirmed, preparing himself for a humble bow, his arms to form a perfect circle starting at his fingertips.
Just as his back began to bend Jin Ling came in close. He held the guest’s arms while shaking his head. He felt off but still forced a slight smile. “Now, you know we are old friends: Please cease with such formalities.” His mind was in such a fog that he didn’t realize the other was just teasing. It also took him a moment to notice the dangling round cloth that the other was holding.
With his head slightly tilted upward, Jingyi followed the gaze. He grinned, fixing his stance upright, clearing his throat into his fist. “I got you something nice.”
Ah, there it was, that mischief that never seemed to leave his old friend. “Booze?” He asked knowingly, yet curiously.
“Booze.” Jingyi beamed, shuffling quickly beside his pal, hooking his elbow behind the man’s neck, pulling him in close. One could have sworn they could see all of his teeth. “I want to get drunk with you!” He exclaimed, “To celebrate your sudden and miraculous recovery!”
Jin Ling raised an eyebrow, shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. His eyes rolled back, a habit inherited from his uncle, Jiang Cheng. “Hah. If you think you can outdrink me, I will have you know I’ve trained my golden core to suppress liquor.” That skill he owed thanks to Uncle Xichen for teaching him. Again, he found himself thinking to his past, spending long days with Sizhui in the Gusu Lan Sect’s Cloud Recesses.
---
Faces almost the same hue of the Vermillion Brilliance between Jin Ling’s eyebrows, both were blushing from their foreheads. Rosy noses and heated cheeks lit up the room. Jingyi’s pale skin was only slightly more snowy than Lan Sizhui’s, and, Jin Ling taking notice, reached out. He rubbed at the other man’s let down hair. It was jet black, just like Sizhui’s. “Hey, why..” He cleared his throat. “Why don’tchu let your hair down, more often?”
Jingyi’s lips smooshed together, like a petulant baby chick’s, as he shoved another chicken wing into his mouth. Somehow he managed to still pout while nibbling at the morsel at the end of his chopsticks. “Listen here,” he said between bites, “You know very well why…” He shrugged, pushing his friend slightly away with his shoulder. The table moved a little with the action, jostling the tableware.
Jin Ling shook his head, trying to regain himself. “Hey, I think I’m... Drunk.” He burped unceremoniously and raised his eyebrows. He surveyed his resting quarters as if anyone else, aside from his boozed-up guest, were there to witness such a feat.
A hand slapped on the table, startling the both of them. It was Jingyi’s hand. Jingyi slapped the table. Right, he knew that: it was his own hand. He mimicked Jin Ling’s head motion, rattling his poisoned brains. “Wow! This is great. I love…” He looked to the side, wavering finger pointing directly between his drinking mate’s eyes. He paused for a long, deafening moment. “Chicken! Haha…!” He hiccupped, fingers reaching out for another sip.
“No… No, nope, no more… No more for you…!” His voice wavered and rose in inappropriate places as he moved the cup away from Jingyi. “Me neither…” He stood up, swooping away their cups, shifting to place them both elsewhere. But… His disgruntled drinking partner grabbed his robbed leg, knocking him off his, already compromised, balance, sending him to the ground. It took both of them a moment to realize what had happened and Jingyi immediately apologized. Well, more or less ‘immediately.’
Jin Ling smacked the other man across the back of his head, having long since lost any sense of cordiality. “Don’t go injuring me! Aren’t we… Aren’t we celebrating my health?!” His head throbbed and he held it between his fingers. He rested on his elbow, laughing to himself defeatedly. What the hell were they doing?
--
It was around the middle of the morning when Jin Ling awoke. He was on his bed, a warm, moist rag comfortably fitted to his forehead. His eyes felt quite raw. How long had he been laying there? He looked down, glad to see his clothes still on. He remembered the kissing, -- the longing. Had he confessed his heartbreak to the other while under the influence?
“. . . Is there a maid here?” He called out. His deep brown eyes scanning the room, eyebrows knit. His mind hurt, his body, too. His heart felt colder than the iced fall morning air.
“Ah-ah-ah, not too loud…!!” Jingyi looked behind himself, his chin resting on the sect leader’s bed. “I’m right here: Your dedicated maid, here at your service. Hangover and all!”
Jin Ling would have smacked him, again, if it were not for the fact he were now indebted to him.
“So... “ he began, awkwardly feeling around the situation, “Did we really…?” Indirect, as usual.
Jingyi only nodded in response. At first. “Your technique is really impressive!” He boasted, as if he were praising himself. “Who exactly have you been meeting up with? I never figured a woman would actually take to a princess like you!”
The eye roll that followed that statement was almost audible. “...” Ling considered exposing his heart. ‘It’s Sizhui!’ he scream-thought, ‘The man you follow so intently, these days. Our childhood best friend! The one who I have been so sick about! The one I’ve been avoiding to save my own heart! Him, -- that man! The one with the smile of angels! The fairest beauty that I’ve ever seen in my entire life, I--... I…!!’
Suddenly, Jin Ling felt quite sick, and he reached for the pale that he saw Jingyi had so kindly placed next to his bolster, on the floor.
--
The two of them took a walk, having mutually come to the conclusion that they needed to sober up. By the time they had arrived at the edge of the palace, Jin Ling decided to take Jingyi on a detour into the kitchen. He began cooking.
‘Is this allowed??’ was amongst one of the various questions the other asked. ‘Surely, a sect leader didn’t need to do such a thing!’ But, Jin Ling stated he had learned to cook after their time with Uncle Wei, back when they were students. He promised himself we would never taste something so rancidly spicy, again, in his life. It had become a hobby that helped him feel closer to his late mother, somehow. He even had a fresh supply of lotus pods, just in case he needed some false nostalgia. … Those were usually only reserved for when his heart was aching.
--
The meal finished and thanks having already been exchanged, the two, once more, found a friend within the silence.
“So -- … Weren’t you going to tell me something? Earlier??” Jingyi blurted out, blinking a bit more than necessary. The awkwardness was palpable. “It’s Sizhui, right?” The lack of response brought him to a nod. “Did you kiss me because you were thinking of him?”
“I... Don’t know.” The suddenly shy leader mumbled something. He took a breath, then raised his voice some. “Quite possibly…”
“Is that why you skipped the first hunt?”
“... -- What about you?”
“...? Ah, well, recently, my core has been waning. I didn’t think it right to go.”
“What?!” Jin Ling, in confusion and shock looked the other up and down.
Jingyi motioned defiantly, clearly refusing to discuss the matter. “I prefer to hear more about you. Don’t worry. … Please.” The dejected look in his eyes was fleeting; but, so profound the other silently agreed to move on.
As they stood beside the kitchen window, the early morning light playing with glowing particles in the air, Jin Ling spoke again: “... I messed things up.”
“Hm?”
“It was small at first… I felt so lost then the bond I held with the one I loved… I let him hurt; I kept pushing my thumbs into the wound.” He coughed, “-- Pushing him away.”
“Hmm…”
“I couldn’t rid myself of my pride; and, here I am: A lost, broken man. How can I even face my people with such a weak resolve… … … And--,”
“No. Stop right there. It’s my turn, now.” Jingyi turned from facing the sky and wagged his finger in front of his friend’s face. Then, as if comforting a wounded animal, he wrapped his arms around Jin Ling’s form. He pulled him into a close embrace. Gentle, trained fingers began petting the other’s head, a gesture that brought tears to the eyes of the embraced.
There was a pained sound coming from the trembling one’s throat.
“Shh, don’t speak. We all make mistakes…” Jingyi continued soothing the other. The real issue is…” He pushed the now weekly sobbing, mostly sobered up, man back, making enough distance to see his face. “Are you willing to go to the one you love?”
“But… Surely, he hates me.” Jin Ling coughed, trying to get his voice to sound less weak. “I resisted when he reached out to me. I’ve had the invite for over a month… I did my best to seem cool, to cut my losses. Now I only feel cut up inside. It’s as if I’ve fought a war, on my own, and forgot every soldier... -- And my sword…!”
Jingyi smiled softly, his lips curling up at the sides, sadly, but understandingly. “The way you kissed me: I knew it was not for me.” He was sure of his words. “Don’t you think you were reaching out for the man you love, through me? ‘[We cannot know what we do not seek to know],’ you know?”
“I…” He couldn’t find the words. There were so many things he’d been pushing to the back of his mind. He mostly spent those long days crying, laying around, just staring up at the ceiling . . . Trying to find constellations, meanings, fortunes, guidance, -- anything! -- from the groves in the wooden planks above. His heartbeat was quiet, yet so loud. The moon would speak to him, begging him to greet the night. He considered going for a swim under it . . . And never returning.
He felt whole within himself; and, yet, without his partner… Without Lan Sizhui... He felt emptied of the right to possess the things he had. If he couldn’t even keep the most precious thing to himself by his side, what was his purpose? Why did he need anything? He knew it was crazy, but he’d already experienced so much trauma, and pain. He couldn’t take anymore. It was like he was blinded to the moving of the world around him
The cycling nights felt slower than the days. When he couldn’t sleep, his fingers ached to hold the hand of someone he rarely even saw in person. He found himself talking to his thoughts, chewing on his lips, playing with his nails... Seeing Sizhui’s silhouette in others’, -- even within the shadows of his own bedroom. When shifting in bed, at night, a familiar smell of the gifted incense, he couldn’t bring himself to be rid of, would fill his senses. No matter what he did, what he read, what he thought… All of it somehow had a memory of his lover attached to it. By what god was it decided that love should cause such pain?
Sizhui had asked for a brief distance. Time to think things through. The request wasn’t direct, but Jin Ling took the hint. He took it so well that he even added extra meanings to the absence, on his own. There was so much Jin Ling wanted to say… But was too scared to... And, what can you say to someone who refuses to listen, who refused to take responsibility for their actions? Of course Sizhui wasn’t reaching out. He probably felt rejected. And, was Jin Ling’s pride more important than reconciliation? … -- More important than the time they had already spent together? The things they had learned, and seen…? Spoken about?
If only he could try, if only he could be listened to when he did.
Clearing his throat, Jingyi leaned in close, his pale grey eyes looking deep into the almond-hued ones before his own. His breath cascaded along Jin Ling’s lips as he let his words take a life of their own. He desired nothing more than to keep the sect leader’s mind in the present:
“Do you want to forget him; or, do you want to get him back?”
Jin Ling leaned in closer, his body betraying his feelings. “I’m not sure, yet. I don’t know why he hasn’t come searching for me, either…”
They kissed, quietly, the stacked dishes on the table shifting ambiently in the background. The floorboard beneath them creaked, as if the years of the servants' foot traffic had been ingrained in the wood for the sole purpose of gently encouraging them to do what they needed to do.
“He... Left me...” Jin Ling’s low voice grumbled between the meetings between their mouths. His cheeks were wet. “And, I still want to be with him. For the rest of my life…” His wet lips parted for another breath before pressing into his opponent’s mouth, once more.
“I… I understand…” Jingyi’s stance was becoming uncomfortable, and he felt drunk all over again. “... But, sometimes,” he struggled out, “all you can do is offer your hand.”
“What… What are we doing?”
“Grieving…”
“By kissing?”
“By kissing…”
Eventually, they both were sitting on the ground, somewhat satisfied, somewhat defeated. They were still in the kitchen, now beneath the window. The two listened patiently as the servants arrived to their stations outside. Beautiful women and men shuffled around in work clothes, the sounds of laundry wafting and being beaten, dull chatter waltzing into the room with the draft. The cooks would not clock-in until a bit later, and the two had been lost in their own world, regardless. It was like they had all the time in the world to recover.
“I’m in love with Sizhui.” Jin Ling stated as if he had made an earth-shattering revelation.
Jingyi bit his own bottom lip, brushing his thumbs along Jin Ling’s cheeks. Then, pressed his forehead against the other man’s: “When you need someone, reach out to them,” he rephrased.
“Have you loved someone?”
“I have.” Jingyi leaned back, smiling, as he brushed off the long skirt of his hanfu.
As he watched the other leave, Jin Ling felt as if he’d been visited by a shapeshifter.
He still felt the heat beside him and could clearly see the last smile he’d been offered.
Eventually, the maids came to cook and they kindly shooed Ling away. Back in his room, he placed the wine cups and emptied bottle of Yiling Patriarch’s Smile on a tray by the door. As he did, he looked back, pretending to only to have noticed the letter on his table by chance. He watched it as if it were to move at any moment.
He returned to his duties, somehow forgetting a portion of the pain he had been struggling through. After reading reports of the previous night’s hunt, he wondered how the following few days would progress. This night hunt may last a full week, and he suspected there would be plenty of time to join, if he so wished.
At his desk, he looked at the paper, left partially unfolded, untouched, frozen in time. Casually, he flitted his fingers over the manila paper. The perfectly formed calligraphy curled around in place, the glitter of the morning causing the paper to shimmer. In an almost translucent scrawling, at the bottom of the page, were the words, “Please come.”
Jin Ling lifted his chin towards the door, and stood, stance strong, calling out: “Prepare my horse!”