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The fortune teller’s crooked chair creaked as he leaned in, eyes glinting with celestial knowledge. He grinned, like a street cat, his whiskers curling along with his lips. The darkly cloaked man muttered something to himself, his hands waving about the ceiling, his concealed face jutting up towards the heavens. Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi sat on the edges of their seats on the opposing side of the gaudy table. Occasionally, they gave fleeting sidelong glances to one another. An obscured musician, playing a makeshift flute in the -- somehow -- darkest corner of the room, wasn’t helping the eeriness of the atmosphere.
“AHA!” yelled the man as he rose surreptitiously from his seat. The two younger men shook their heads, screaming in a collectively shocked response. “No, no, my young masters, do not fret!” He laughed, boldly, resuming his place at the table. “I have seen the truth!” He triumphantly boasted, aggressively pointing his fan from the face of one youth to the other. A demonic mask followed his hand, like the shadows around them, as he did so.
“Yeah? And what’s that?” Jingyi goaded, trying to suppress his grin, his eyebrow peaked along with his curiosity. As he bounced, with excitement, his long black curls did as well.
Jin Ling mostly ignored the exchange, fumbling in his pocket with the ornate sack that once held multiple stones of gold. He wondered if he would be spared a satisfactory reincarnation if Uncle Cheng ever discovered his current activities.
The man crudely leaned in, obviously hiding a face of displeasure beneath his mask. “Oho! Don’t doubt me, boy.” He recomposed himself, adjusting his disheveled commoners’ hanfu. The music grew in intensity as he raised his hands, once more. “I … Have seen---!!! -- That your friend, here, -- yes--, he must go to his lover! A beautiful woman, yes! Yes--!! With long black hair... Skin made of both snow… And the most delicate of porcelain! She is from a land of… Purity and warmth! Surely, a maiden of… None other than the famed Gusu Lan Sect! Much like yourself, honorable young sir.”
If Jingyi had never busted a gut quite properly before, he sure did, then. “Right, right, a beautiful ‘maiden’! More similar to me than you’d know!”
Jin Ling contemplated straying from the ways of cultivation, but remained still. Well, Sizhui was more lovely than any woman he’d ever met. Warm … And kind... And gentle. Surely just like Ling’s late mother. Always patient and reserved, full of duty for the ones they love… Ah, there he went, blushing hotter than the creeping, dancing flames that made it hard to focus in that ominous room. In fact, the way all the shadows wavered made him feel a little nauseous. If he hadn’t grown accustomed to things like riding horseback at full speed, he would probably have gotten motion sick.
“Well, youngins, I have given my rate’s worth of words to you.” The psychic’s eyes became sharp, again, like a felines, his kind voice fading. He looked towards Jin Ling, getting his attention with a fast-flick opening of his fan. “It will work out, young man. Heed me. Well, I must to get back to other business. Your money and time are always welcome here. … Now, I have an important meeting to attend, at the taverns.” And, with that, they were kicked out.
Jin Ling snatched his gold-gilded sword up and headed to the main road. His head burned hot from the inside. He was particularly fuming; basically foaming at the mouth. He was both disturbed and angry that he’d even wasted his time and family’s money.
Jingyi followed him, laughing hysterically. Ling raged in response, flipping around, his hand almost squeezing his sword in half. His eyes were crazed and his thoughts were sloshing around like the last swig in a jar of Emperor's Smile. The idea of the fortune teller using his money to drink sent Ling’s spirit to the Burial Mounds and back! “What the hell was that?!” “
“The funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed! To think, our ‘Princess’ has a ‘princess’!“
“Don’t call me that… … What was with that horrible Yiling Patriarch mask, was he trying to be funny?!”
“Yeah, is he making a mockery of Uncle Wei? How rude…!”
The young Ling breathed in so hard he almost popped a lung. “YOU?! -- Don’t talk to me. You are a horrible friend.” Jin Ling’s mouth was almost touching his nose and he seethed, sputtering curtly. “This is all your fault, how dare you suggest such a… Vulgar…!!”
Their voices faded as they left the main road, moving pacedly past people, shops, tables, and tents. One could hear the far off echoing of Jin Ling smacking at the other’s arm from all the way back in the crowded city street.
--
Back in the forest, off a ways from his home within Lanling, Jin Ling slashed his sword at lower level monsters. His skill was clear, his overwhelming rage guided his powerful swings. At nineteen years, he had already surpassed many of his peers. He was good at his studies, as well, but not so great at things like socializing. Such naivety led him to be involved in situations like being convinced by a childhood friend to visit a sketchy, money-grubbing psychic. That realization only led his weapon to move more swiftly.
Eventually, satisfied with his swordsmanship and covered in sweat, Ling had regained some sense of relief. Instead of heading home, he mindlessly traveled towards the Gusu Lan Sect’s Cloud recesses. Maybe that hack of a soothsayer had some truth to him…
Upon arriving at his destination, the young cultivator was greeted with both the gate barrier and a guard. He showed his identification and was allowed inside. His hand eventually found itself knocking at the door of someone who seemed to oft be on his mind.
From outside of the room, he could overhear the sounds of guqin practice. This music, unlike that of the fortune teller’s tent, was cleansing and managed to make harmony within itself. Ling listened in, as if he were eavesdropping on a private conversation, his eyes closing so he could catch every ‘word.’ He leaned against the door, with his back, nodding to himself like the only reason he stopped by was to listen in.
Soon, he found himself squatting on the steps outside. His eyes closed like fluttering butterfly wings as he forgot how to stay awake. Eventually, the large painted door behind him opened and a sweet, quiet, reserved voice called out his name.
“Jin Ling? Ah, I’m so sorry! Were you out here for long??”
Turning around, as if in slow motion, Jin Ling’s eyes met with the long, white skirt of the snowy-skinned man. It was Sizhui. Ling’s eyes traveled upward. Even at twenty, Lan Sizhui looked fairly youthful. His cheeks always had a brush of pink, his eyebrows thick, yet finely formed… His lips rosy and subtly chapped against his winterfresh skin. Ling’s heart fluttered and he blinked rapidly, standing at attention, all at once.
Bowing, as if the two were not of the same ranking, the teen was frozen in place until Sizhui lifted him back to an upright standing position. Looking into his earthen eyes, with those pale brown ones, Sizhui shook his head, his ponytail flowing soundlessly. “Please, don’t waste your honor, Ling.” There it came, the most welcoming, warm smile. Jin Ling almost melted away, like the snow beneath his feet.
“. . . It’s cold: Shall we go inside?”
While led into the room Jin Ling moved pensively. His shoulders were close to his neck and he almost forgot to put his sword down out of courtesy. Sizhui guided him to the floor, next to his large, white and sky-blue guqin. It was painted like the heavens and the strings were perfectly aligned. The instrument was so spotless, like it had never been touched.
There was a giggle and Ling turned towards Sizhui. “Want to hear me play?” Intuitive and bright, as usual. Jin Ling only blinked, his eyebrows sloping down at the sides. Then, he nodded.
--
Ling held a cup close to his lips, the warm, aromatic tea filling his mouth with each sip. Sizhui’s fingers skillfully moved about the strings, decisively plucking them; -- quick at points, slow in others. The two were a vision of serenity, the cool air drifting in through the windows dispersing the scent of incense through the room. By the time the music stopped, Ling had folded his arms under his head, far off in dreamland.
“Ling…? Jin Ling, have you fallen asleep?” He giggled, shifting towards the other man. He momentarily sized him up, calculating how to lift him. “Please rest properly: I will offer you my bed,” he whispered, one arm slipping behind the man’s wide, yet slender, back. Ling awoke, grumbling, shaking the other off for a second. When he realized what was happening, he apologized, his lips poking out. Then, something happened.
Sizhui wrapped his arms around Jin Ling’s torso, right along his ribcage, resting his cheek against the young man’s back. “Jin Ling, thank you for visiting.” He could have heard the subtle breaking of Ling’s heart, if it were not for the pounding, -- similar to that of a ceremonial drum --, that shrouded the sound.
The man with the warmer palette turned, drowsily, and awkwardly held the other close. “...” He struggled to find words, only nuzzling the other man’s neck. His long hair started to become a mess, and Sizhui began to take it down, from its collection at the top of the other man’s head.
“Is this alright?” Asked a soft voice, and Ling nodded in response. His heart kept beating, louder and louder. He knew what was happening, and he didn’t resist. He wanted to be close, and he wanted to stay quiet. He’d give his entire life to Sizhui if he could. … So, what was really so wrong with letting him do as he pleased?
Sizhui combed out Jin Ling’s long, jet black hair, with his thin fingers. It felt nice, and Ling wondered, every time it happened, if this was what being his dog Fairy, must have felt like. He briefly thought about how Fairy was quite old, by that point, and barely went out hunting with him, anymore. The wandering of Ling’s mind… Was it because he was tired, or because he felt so relaxed?
“Sizhui…” He began to speak, the sadness in his voice bubbling up from the basin at the depths of his soul. He leaned back, part of the table digging into his side, his eyes blurring some, with tears. “Do you love me?”
Sizhui gulped, his already dusted cheeks darkening. His mouth opened slightly as he blinked, cautiously. “Do I…?” He then smiled, seemingly remembering who and where he was. “Of course, I do. We are lovers, aren’t we?” He asked, assuredly.
“ . . . Then, kiss me.” -- Not quite a demand but a suggestion. A hope, an offering.
Taking in a small, preparatory breath, Sizhui readjusted their position. Now, Ling sat in his lap, their eyes looking directly into one another's. He almost asked if what he was doing was alright, but knew nothing would change if he did. The Lan’s eyes were somehow sad, but there was still something else within them. There was no going back, huh.
He pulled Jin Ling in, their lips pressing closely, -- warm like the bodies that held them in place. There was a pause, and a space between their kiss that filled with a wash of something both aching and … Something else. Suddenly, Jin Ling’s face contorted, his eyebrows scrunching together, wrinkling his mark of vermillion brilliance between them. He rubbed his eyes, roughly, shaking his head, his arms moving to block his own face. Soft, disgruntled sounds escaped him like puffs of air.
“What’s wrong, Ling?” Sizhui consoled in confusion. His hands somewhat strongly peeled away the Lanling’s arms, trying to see his face properly. “Did that hurt?”
“You’re so cruel…” He sobbed, voice crumbling like baked bread. He wished to shrivel away and fall through the cracks of the planked floor. -- Slither away somewhere far underground, where he could no longer be seen embarrassing himself. “Why must you be such a pushover?”
Something was cute about the painful looking puffiness of Ling’s eyes, and Sizhui wondered if his mind was in the right place. He swooped in, almost an inch away from the other’s face, pulling Jin Ling in closer by his sides. They now leaned over the table, and he shifted the dishes and headdressings out of the way, as to not knock them over. “Ling,” he began, “Are you in love with me?”
With the subject having swiftly changed, Jin Ling wondered when his ancestors would come to retrieve his soul. He glanced, helplessly, around the room; confused, and flustered. He wanted to find the best route to use to run away from answering. He scowled, pretending not to be as red as his removed hair ribbons. “I’m not quite sure; maybe if I get another kiss, I’ll know.” Was he flirting or trying to pick a fight?!
A sigh exited through curved lips. Sizhui cupped his hands over Ling’s ears, kissing him tenderly. Ling almost went limp in the hold, his will waning away. If he hadn’t already known the reality of being on the brink of death, he’d have earnestly believed he was parting with the mortal plane, right then.
Noticing the weakness in the other male, Sizhui released the kiss. “Is that enough?”
“Why does there have to be an ‘enough’?”
“Hm?” His eyebrows rose, in confusion, and the meaning of his smile seemed to change.
“I come to see you, often.”
“... Yes?”
“And you never come to see me…”
“ . . . Well, I have a lot to get done, here, preparing for my taking over as a sect leader head…”
“Excuses! You have no time for me!”
“ -- You’re so cute, Ling!”
“Silence! ... I refuse to be flirted with. I am upset…”
Sizhui pulled Ling into a prolonged, tight embrace. His lengthy, billowing sleeves became trapped, partially between the two, and the table, as he did. “Ling, please.” He thought about how Ling was so similar to his Uncle Jiang Cheng: quite like a firework flare, in personality and style.
Scowling, the Lanling boy pushed away from Sizhui, Standing up, next to the table. His outfit was crooked, falling slightly off his shoulder, and he felt almost naked. His frowning lips separated as he readied himself to exude some profanity. He took in a long breath, trying to remember core cleansing techniques he’d learned during the time he was a guest student at the Gusu Lan Sect.
“I don’t believe you!” Ling huffed, “If you truly cared for me, you would make time. In the past, you’d only stop by when it was convenient. When you were nearby on business, when you were invited…” His tears started flowing, again, even harder this time. “I-If you loved me… Then, you’d… You would not have to be begged to behave as if you did…” His pointed an accusatory finger at a dumbfounded Lan Sizhui.
There came no response. Just silence. What kind of song had just played between the two? Would this moment be counted as a ‘rest’? Or… Was it the ‘crescendo‘? That said, this wasn’t the first time their song had seemed to shift so abruptly. Every once in a while, Jin Ling would get hunches that he wasn’t a priority, despite how much Sizhui insisted when called out. Jin Ling stood there, weeping like a child, as Lan Sizhui moved in to hug him.
At first, Ling pushed him back; but, soon, he found himself letting the other man put his hair back in its fixings. His clothing was readjusted, and Sizhui offered for Ling to spend the night. He refused and left; still upset, but less angry than he had been.
--
When Ling had arrived, clearly brokenhearted, at Lan Jingyi’s place, he was a mess. After surmising that something had occurred, that the other might not have been so open to talk about, Jingyi suggested they head out to drink. The two made their way, along the dark, lamp-lit path, to the main streets, once more. They were out past curfew, and would most likely not find a way back inside the Cloud Recesses, until the next morning. Jingyi didn’t seem to mind the predicament.
--
“I was holding up the entire relationship. I feel cheated! Lan Sizhui, that bastard…”
“‘[Do not speak ill of those you love; nor, those you hate.]’”
“What if the way he treats me has me feeling ill…?”
“Would you want him to speak of you that way? He is not here to defend himself.”
Ling cleared his throat, fiddling with his cup, contemplatively.
“Well,” Jingyi continued on, stuffing his face, “Since you’re younger than me, I’ll be a good ‘older brother’ and give you some advice: ‘[Do not live unbalanced.]’”
“Another rule? Please, I’ve memorized these.”
“But, have you learned from them?”
“...”
“Listen,” he took another bite, “If you give more than you get you show those around you you are willing to compromise. Simply, don’t compromise.”
“You sure talk a lot for a Lan.”
“I just have a lot to say.” He grinned, confidently.
“Don’t let that grouch Qiren catch you, he may have you flogged.”
“Hah! Contrary to you, I am far too quick for such punishment. Unlike with your Uncle Cheng, Uncle Qiren is too slow to catch me, now, ahaha. … Wait, isn’t that the psychic we saw earlier, today? LOL!”
“... Ugh…” Jin Ling held his face in his hands, shaking his head.
The two continued to drink into the night; and, with time, found themselves drunkenly stumbling all the way back to Jin Ling’s place. They had used Jingyi’s silver for the drinks, but they hadn’t had enough to spend the night. Somehow, even in a drunken, exhausted stupor, they still managed to travel such a far way, mostly on their own.
By the morning light, the two were strewn about Jin Ling’s room. Out of nowhere, there was an eerily quiet knocking at the door. Quickly the two occupants of the room pulled themselves together. After a while, remembering he was a guest, Jingyi just sleepily sat on Jin Ling’s haphazardly made bed.
In a low, trembling voice, Jin Ling spat out his words: “If it’s Uncle, he will smell our breath and beat us both!” He was panicked and scared; so, Jingyi pitied him, rejoining him in cleaning. But. . .
No one entered. In fact, there wasn’t even another knock. The two were relieved, yet wary.
“Go check, go check!” Jingyi whisper-yelled, pushing Jin Ling towards the entrance.
Peeking out the open-air windows in the door, Ling started flailing. “It’s him!”
“Your uncle?! We’re finished!”
“No, no, it’s Sizhui????”
“Wha--???”
The two stared at each other, mouths agape.
“W-w-what do I do?” Jin Ling quietly begged for an answer. -- From Jingyi, from his ancestors, from anyone or anything!
“Go! Go out there! Talk to him!”
“I smell like alcohol!”
“So do I!”
“What??? What does that have to do with--?!”
Jingyi just laughed and practically tossed Jin Ling out of the door.
Sizhui, rattled, turned around. The spot he stood at was riddled with footprints. Had he been pacing? “Uh… Hello.” He sounded sad, and his fingertips looked blistered and red as he waved ‘hello.’
“... Come inside?” Jin Ling asked, mind already completely wiped of the memory of the other man occupying his room.
Sizhui nodded, helplessly, and joined him in re-entering his residence. Once inside, however, Sizhui’s small, patient smile transformed into one of concern. He flipped, quickly, and anxiously, towards Ling, “You didn’t?!”
“W-what???” He followed Sizhui’s gaze to Jingyi, sleeping in his bed. When did he manage to fall asleep?! He was even under the covers, -- all nice and cozy! “N-no, I swear. Absolutely not. Especially not with him!”
“O-okay…” Sizhui looked down, breathing hot breaths on his freezing hands.
Jin Ling wrapped his own around them. Though he was a bit shorter, he cooly brought them up to his own lips, trying to help warm them. “So… Why are you here?”
“Should I not have come?”
“...”
“I wanted to see you.”
“For whom?”
“... Pardon?”
“Was it for your sake or mine? Or, are you here for work?”
“-- No! ... For us …”
Jin Ling agitatedly retorted, “Could you please use more words?” Ah, was that the leftover alcohol or his ever-burning disappointment speaking.
“I… I…” A tear glittered down the humble Lan’s cheek. His hands were unsteady within the other’s. It looked as if he were about to topple over out of fright, like a wild bunny. “You didn’t come back. I worried you were gone... I want to be by your side…”
Ling blushed, squinting, pensively, not exactly sure when would be good to move his hands away. He somewhat wished he still had the excuse of having had an affair. However… He took his arms and formed a blanket of warmth around his partner. “If you break my heart, again, I am sending Uncle Cheng after you…”
“O-okay…”
“And, if you neglect me, ever again, -- even if it’s just slightly --, I’m going to leave you so quick your head will spin.”
“N-no!”
“I’ll have you know: If you didn’t come here, on your own, like this, I would not even be speaking with you. Do you hear me?”
“Y-yes…”
“Good. … Now, -- . . . ”
Right as Jin Ling was going to move in and selfishly ask for another kiss, a hysterical cackling came erupting from the corner of the room. “Oh, gods, I can’t handle this! I’m too hungover, I have to go home.”