Work Text:
幻想是童話，他是幼稚的願望
♦
Lang QianQiu was 6 years old when he met for first time an 8 years old An Le. The, by that moment, unknown child had a frown expression and distant brown eyes that gave a certain impression of maturity. An Le was formal and well spoken for his age, something that Lang QianQiu's father explained by saying that An Le was the only remaining descendant of the long lost Royal Family of Xian Le. As an idealist, his father had taught him about how Xian Le and Yong'An were brothers, two nations that must be kept together for the sake of their people. Lang QianQiu and An Le were the same, that's what he was taught.
"An Le and his mother would live in the palace with us as part of the royalty now on," his father said. "An Le's father died recently, then I hope that A'Qiu will be good with our guest."
With that said, Lang QianQiu just knew that An Le would become his best friend. Young as he was, Lang QianQiu had conviction and confidence, something that even when seemed to annoy An Le, it finally made them friends at his own eyes.
Their friendship bloomed through the years, two princes learning the doings of the royalty, two friends living their childhood nonchalantly in the middle of gold and whispers. Lang QianQiu thought that An Le had no family outside of a distant mother and a death father, and that made him think himself as An Le's only brother, his family by heart.
That was until one day, when Lang QianQiu was 10 years old, that An Le presented him a young man of green robes and beautiful eyes that was with a man of kind face and reserved manners. It was early in the morning, a servant informed him that An Le wanted to meet him at the front doors of the palace. When he get there, a little late, the young man that was probably just 16 years old took a step ahead and talked before An Le had the opportunity.
"Your Highness Crown Prince, this lowly one is honored to be able to meet someone of such status," he said with a soft voice that made Lang QianQiu blush, making him ignore the shameless attitude of the young man and the lack of reverence of his. "This lowly one's name is Huan Xiang and this one has come to check out my cousin, the Prince An Le. This one hopes that it isn't an inconvenience."
Those words made Lang QianQiu look at an ashamed An Le, who seemed to be experiencing his worst nightmare with this cousin of his. "QianQiu-didi, I present you my cousin, Huan Xiang, and his shizun, Xu Huan. They come to visit me for the spring, the king was informed beforehand, but I hope you don't have a problem with their presence." If it wasn't because An Le's expression was a mix between shame and pain, Lang QianQiu would believe his calmed tone in his voice.
(A small pinch of pain appeared in his heart, because he couldn't understand how An Le could just not tell him about this before this moment.)
The man of kind face, Xu Huan, made a reverence as was meant to, but said nothing. Huan Xiang just smiled towards An Le in a way that made Lang QianQiu know that An Le's cousin enjoyed the situation.
Huan Xiang was a thing, wasn't him?
"It's not a problem, I will be glad to meet your family An-gege," he said without doubt in his voice. Lang QianQiu lifted his eyes to meet with the brown gaze of Huan Xiang and since that moment, he knew he was doomed.
(Nobody could have such eyes, could they?)
♦
As the years past, Lang QianQiu grow up and so did his feelings towards Huan Xiang. Since that spring the young man came to visit irregularly, even almost 7 years later Lang QianQiu couldn't tell if he would come in spring, summer, fall or winter, much less when he would leave. Huan Xiang was unpredictable and, for Lang QianQiu's pain, a really distant person with whoever that wasn't his shizun or An Le. Even today, Lang QianQiu could count with the fingers of one hand the amount of conversations that they had that weren't just five phrases or were mostly with An Le, not really with Huan Xiang.
Lang QianQiu had found himself in love with an unreachable dream it seemed. A dream that had unreadable eyes, long brown hair and a melodic voice. Huan Xiang, as a beautiful man now 27 years old, was so unusual as such a dream could be. The only man he ever knew that had confidence wearing green robes, the one that didn't feared to call the crown prince a dumbass, the man that could curse the dirtiest and talk as a prince by his desire. A man without past, present or future has cached his heart and he seemed to not care. Lang QianQiu was the child at the eyes of Huan Xiang, a child with wild dreams it seems.
But today the fate gave Lang QianQiu some luck, because when he was seeking for An Le for today's spare he found Huan Xiang instead, all alone. He was there, in the garden that was connected with An Le's room, crouching in front of the peonies he had planted himself, cutting some of them to put them in a basket.
Everyone in the palace knew that An Le's garden was more Huan Xiang's. The prince's cousin has taken the little garden as his and it became his biggest pride, and how not to, when the small garden bloomed marvelously with begonias, gardenias, chrysanthemums, peonies, camellias, azaleas, magnolias and pretty much any flower or plant that Huan Xiang could consider his garden needs. This was an unusual hobby for most young men, even if any King or Emperor found pride in wonderfully made garden, Huan Xiang is one of the few that enjoyed making his garden himself, planting every flower, plant or tree and ultimately taking care of them seemed to be a great joy for him.
As usual when gardening, Huan Xiang was wearing simpler robes, still of his signature green, with his sleeves rolled up and his hair made in a lazy bun. Huan Xiang usually would wear robes that keeps him from neck to toes completely covered in green textile. Sometimes he would use pretty earrings made of gold that An Le gifted him, with his hair made in a strict bun. Today his robes were letting his neck and part of his chest exposed, without earrings to be seen. He looked as pretty as usual.
(He ignored the warm that started to appear in his groin. Breath in and breath out. Lust had no place around Huan Xiang at all.)
Lang QianQiu felt nervous, with the desire to talk with him but also with certain fear. Longing as he was for his attention, Lang QianQiu had discovered that sometimes it's just better to stay at the side, enjoying his existence near to you.
Huan Xiang wasn't an easy person to talk with, in first place you could never be sure if he will answer, because sometimes (and sometimes means, when he's not showing how much he despise your presence with his colorful way of speaking) he would be there in silence, without giving a hint if he will say anything until he finally said it or you are intimidated enough to leave the conversation. Intimidated, yes, because Huan Xiang was intimidating. As much as he has beautiful eyes, those eyes have the asphyxiant power to keep a constant and uninterrupted contact with yours. Huan Xiang was also a person that would leave the conversation as if it wasn't happening in first place, especially if something about his life was asked directly. Lang QianQiu is lucky because in every conversation with Huan Xiang he never experienced any of those behaviors, but the fear was still there.
"Your Highness, if you have anything to say, say it. If not, leave. Your Highness looks like a fucking pervert standing there without a reason," Huan Xiang said nonchalantly, still cutting off some peonies. He was so in calm when he just called the crown prince a pervert, almost unbelievable.
(Sometimes Lang QianQiu wished to have the guts to tease Huan Xiang back, but his feelings of love and respect stopped him, no matter how much he found himself annoyed by some remarks about his intelligence.)
"Huan-xiong, I came because I was seeking An-gege... B-but I think I will wait for him here," Lang QianQiu wasn't expecting an answer to that, since he technically could be there if he wanted, but he still felt happy when Huan Xiang made a little approving sound.
Taking some steps to get closer to the young man in green robes, he crouched by his side looking at the peonies. "Huan-xiong, may I ask why are you cutting these flowers? They don't seem pretty enough to sell or use for decoration, and those are too much for a tea."
Huan Xiang huffed and said, "No ugly flower belongs in my garden, so, as your Highness can understand, these little bitches have to disappear," the last word matched with him cutting off a begonia that seemed to not be even near to wither.
Lang QianQiu didn't know whether to cry or laugh. Huan Xiang was really weird, obsessed with little details that nobody but him would notice, say his appearance or his flowers, but at the same time so shameless to call him a pervert. "Huan-xiong is really dedicated to his garden," he muttered, thinking how to keep the conversation, "why does Huan-xiong like so much gardening? QianQiu can't really see it."
"Oh well, your Highness, my plants are my best friends," he said softly, touching one of the peonies, "meanwhile pets need training and humans tend to be sneaky, plants don't need training nor are sneaky," he cut the last peony and got up, with the scissors still in a firm grip, "they can't run away and are always there to listen. The best friends you can have."
Lang QianQiu though that was a kind of sad thing to say, but decided to not point that out. "Then that's why... Huan-xiong is a really secretive person, QianQiu think that probably his flowers know more about him than anyone," he said while getting up. Huan Xiang let out a little laugh (a little too deranged laugh), taking his basket full of peonies.
"Your Highness say that as if he knows nothing about me," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Lang QianQiu didn't say anything, keeping a curious look on the young man, waiting for another answer. Huan Xiang lost his smile then and said: "If your Highness thinks that I'm secretive then he should ask more. I can't read his dumb mind after all."
There was an unsettling feeling lurking between his voice, but Lang QianQiu brushed it off thinking that, maybe, Huan Xiang just found annoying Lang QianQiu's words.
(There was always a unsettling feeling lurking around Huan Xiang. In his eyes, his voice, his actions or his expressions. Lang QianQiu brushed them off every time.)
"If Huan-xiong will let me ask, then I'll do so," Lang QianQiu waited for an approving gesture. Huan Xiang just arched his eyebrow and waited in dead silence. It seemed that his luck was over. "Uh, then... Mm, Huan-xiong has never talked about his parents or his childhood and-"
Lang QianQiu was interrupted by a strident laugh. Huan Xiang was laughing as if he's in the most funny situation ever and Lang QianQiu felt as dumb as the rouge cultivator sometimes accused him to be. He waited there until Huan Xiang stopped laughing, who once calmed down approached to one of the benches and sat there without a word. Lang QianQiu looked dumbly at Huan Xiang, expecting something, and Huan Xiang looked at with those eyes that said "come here a sit down here, you dumbass". Lang QianQiu sat stiffly at Huan Xiang's side, still both in silence.
Should he...?
"So, my parents, ah?" There's that feeling lurking around again. Huan Xiang caressed the sharp part of the scissors while talking. "They're death, but I think you already supposed that... Mm, what to say? I don't know," he whispered as if he was telling a secret. They weren't looking at each other. Huan Xiang was looking at the scissors and Lang QianQiu was trying to focus on his hands.
He felt bad suddenly. He never thought that Huan Xiang could be an orphan. An Le never mentioned such a thing. An Le and Huan Xiang barely mentioned anything to him.
"Uh... How did they die?" Lang QianQiu asked softly. He never asked An Le how his father died, but there he was, asking Huan Xiang how his parents died.
"How? My mom was stabbed to death when she tried to protect her sister," he said nonchalantly letting the scissors fall inside the basket, making Lang QianQiu shiver a little in confusion by such tranquility. "The man that you could call my father instead... Well, I don't know, I know that he's death by know but I don't know how. Maybe he died stupidly or maybe he died miserably," he sighed "I just hope he suffered."
Lang QianQiu was stunned by those words. "I hope he suffered" was an unusual thing to hope for your father, wasn't it? He seemed so disconnected with the subject. Lang QianQiu just could suppress the feeling and decided to ask more.
"Why would you wish something like that? Didn't you love your father? And your mother, you-"
"I loved her," he said, with a threatening tone in his words, daring him to question them. Lang QianQiu didn't dare. "Meanwhile, that man... Maybe when I was young, stupid and weak I could have, but he really made his way to make me hate him. That bastard doesn't deserve more than that."
Lang QianQiu nodded, understanding that maybe Huan Xiang's father was a bad person. In what concerned his mother, Lang QianQiu wasn't so sure. Feeling brave enough, he looked at Huan Xiang, "do Huan-xiong miss her?"
"I..." There was despair in that stone cold face, a pain that Lang QianQiu couldn't grasp. "I can't remember her, nothing about her, no matter how much I try. It has been a long time, I was six when she died and I think I still miss her," he said, taking one peony on his hands.
Lang QianQiu attempted to put his hand on Huan Xiang's shoulder, but a quick unfriendly glare by the young man stopped him in the act. He wanted to comfort him, but it seemed that they weren't close enough for it. Just An Le could do that for Huan Xiang, Lang QianQiu wasn't allowed to even attempt it.
"My mom," Huan Xiang continued, "she isn't even a memory, for me, she's like a figure in a dream that I forgot the night after her funeral. She has no face, no voice, no smell. She could come back to life in this moment, present herself and I couldn't recognize my own mother."
Lang QianQiu felt ashamed for making Huan Xiang think about horrible things. He couldn't imagine how could be being unable to remember your own mother. Lang QianQiu couldn't even imagine how would be living without seeing his mother at least once every year. He really wanted to be able to comfort the man at his side, but he didn't accept his comfort.
"But that man," Huan Xiang spitted the words with the poison of a snake, "I can remember that man. I haven't seen him since I was five, but he... He's always there, his smell of alcohol, his annoying voice, his horrible face. That man is a nightmare of mine, and I hate him for that."
Huan Xiang's face was distorted in anger and hate, the little peony destroyed by the strong grip of his hands on the flower. Lang QianQiu decided that trying to comfort even when rejected was the best. He put his hand on Huan Xiang's, carefully, as treating a scared animal.
He won a dirty look. He didn't care.
"I don't need to know more about your parents Huan-xiong. Tell me, who took care of you back then?"
Huan Xiang frown softened, even when his expression was still tense.
"My mother's sister, the one she protected," he said without emotions in his voice. "I lived with them, my aunt, her husband and her son, until I was eighteen. It was..." Huan Xiang flinched a little, with his voice failing him at the end.
"I was happy there, I guess."
Lang QianQiu nodded, now both of his hands taking Huan Xiang's carefully, in the most comforting way he could emulate from his mother.
"They seem to be good people then," he said for the sake of saying something kind.
"They abandoned me," Huan Xiang mumbled, "they left without me when someone set on fire our home. They left me there to die alone. But they're idiots, I didn't die there."
Lang QianQiu wanted to smack himself against a wall. Ignoring the weird wording at the end, Lang QianQiu couldn't stop focusing in how he called good people the same people that left Huan Xiang to die burnt alive.
Mumbling apologies and comforting words, Lang QianQiu was took by surprise when he felt how Huan Xiang rested his head on his chest. They weren't close, they barely touched each other, but this was definitely something that two friends, two lovers do. With his hear in a race, his mind confused and his face red, Lang QianQiu didn't know what to do.
(He smelled to peonies, but the soft perfume of gardenias was also there. Lang QianQiu felt dizzy at the sweet smell, but even then he felt the hints of blood in his natural fragrance.)
"Your Highness is lucky," Huan Xiang said in a whisper, his face hidden against his chest. "Loving parents, a loyal family. Even a whole nation that adore your Highness," the words were said slowly, almost in a tender way. "Your Highness should be grateful, it's not something that anyone can have."
As a prince, Lang QianQiu knew that he should be grateful of his position, his immense luck, but also know well his responsibilities and duties. Huan Xiang words were a reminder of that. For people like Huan Xiang, Lang QianQiu must be a good prince. He was about to reassure him that he will always be grateful for what he have and do well with his privilege, when a voice talked without warning.
"What are you two doing?" Said the voice, sounding too threatening to be anyone. It was An Le giving them a dirty look.
"Ayo~!" Huan Xiang exclaimed, ending without hesitation the physical contact between them. "Is my little cousin jealous because his Didi is giving me attention! Boo~ your Highness can give me as much attention as he wants, An'er can't get jealous over something like that~"
Hearing An Le sigh, Lang QianQiu just knew he would not have any attention from Huan Xiang for the rest of the day.
Well, at least he can put all his attention in training today, without distraction.
♦
"Your Highness," Huan Xiang catched his attention at the middle of the hall that was connected with his room. "I need to inform you something. Tomorrow I won't be able to stay in the banquet for too long. I'm afraid that I could only present my respects to the king and leave."
Tomorrow the palace would be having a Gilded Banquet in honor to Lang QianQiu's 17th birthday. The prince was surprised by the new that Huan Xiang couldn't stay, but mainly, he was disappointed.
"Why can't Huan-xiong stay? Is there any problem?" He asked, hoping that Huan Xiang could change his mind. Lang QianQiu was practically an adult at everyone's eyes, him finally reaching 17 was something important.
(He even hoped that, maybe, Huan Xiang could start to see him as an adult. That Huan Xiang could consider him a friend. Maybe...)
Huan Xiang's frowned and said bitterly "an asshole decided to destroy my house and I need to take care of the matter. If wasn't because of tomorrow's banquet, I would have already left, your Highness."
Lang QianQiu's shoulders sagged. His hopes seemed to disappear.
Huan Xiang smirked, "so, your Highness shouldn't get late if he wants to see me before I leave."
Then, Lang QianQiu smiled brightly, "It's my own banquet Huan-xiong, I couldn't get late."
♦
Lang QianQiu got late and all of his family died. Such a humorless joke. How could his Guoshi do this to him? How could this happen? Everything this days seemed to be painted in crimson blood, from his feelings to the streets of Yong'An. The Royal Family almost completely destroyed, Lang QianQiu had to be a king, a judge and an executor.
And now that the Guoshi Fang Xin was finally resting dead in a coffin, Lang QianQiu had to take care of the other deaths. His parents funeral was the hardest to live, but An Le's was the most unexpected.
Suddenly fallen sick, his brother by heart was now death and Lang QianQiu was preparing the last funeral for his family, all of it. Cousins, half siblings, aunts, uncles, friends and rivals. All of them death, resting in a coffin.
(He remembers An Le in his last moments. How he pleaded to see his cousin. Lang QianQiu sent a messenger immediately, but An Le just lived enough for the messenger to leave the palace.)
It was a beautiful morning, just like when they met for first time. Today was their last goodbye. Today Lang QianQiu would say goodbye to his brother of heart, and that was too much to handle.
When he saw Huan Xiang entering from the front doors of the palace Lang QianQiu thought that he looked like some kind of god. Dressed in pure white, with his hair (now almost black) made in a strict bun, his skin pale and his serious expression, Huan Xiang could look like a god in the most simple garments.
(But when the funeral ended, Huan Xiang looked more like a ghost. Almost transparent, as if the wind would take him away and disappear. His expression of sorrow was too much for him to handle.)
"Huan-xiong," Lang QianQiu called him at the end of the funeral, just when he was leaving. "I'm sorry, I didn't had the opportunity to see you before you left."
He had a death expression by now, with lifeless eyes and no emotion to be seen. Huan Xiang said, "it doesn't matter. Thanks to your Majesty for informing me that An Le fell sick and even informing me immediately about his death."
("Your Majesty." Lang QianQiu was the king now, right? It was sickening to think. He always imagined that An Le would be at his side once he became a king. He barely felt like a king.)
"He wanted to see you. It's the least I could have done for both of you," Huan Xiang seemed to tense at the words, but Lang QianQiu continued, with a somber air around him. "Huan-xiong, may I ask you something?"
Huan Xiang looked wary at him. Lang QianQiu had to wait a few seconds before he nodded.
"Could Huan-xiong consider staying in the palace? Just a few days if you wish, I would appreciate his company."
There was silence.
"I don't belong here."
"You could belong."
A little laugh. Lang QianQiu felt his heart flinch in pain.
"This is farewell your Highness. Perhaps I'll see you. Perhaps I won't." Huan Xiang said, turning his back to him to leave the palace.
"Farewell Huan-xiong," he whispered, seeing the last remaining thing of his childhood leave.
Then, this was being heartbroken.
♦
"And that is Tai Hua," Qi Rong said nonchalantly, "that's pretty much everything. Except you, fucker, want to ask more."
Lang QianQiu gave him a dirty look, but the hate evaporated like water in the middle of the desert. This long, exhausting conversation has finally given him answer about An Le and his family, and in some way Lang QianQiu has found some peace. The betrayal by An Le would never disappear, but he felt better knowing everything.
He gave another look at Qi Rong and sighed. It has been a while since Qi Rong came back to his human form, years since he started taking care of Gu Zi (and Qi Rong's flame to certain extent). Lang QianQiu was kind of ready to leave his resentment behind, even if the little nasty gremlin deserved every gram of it.
Lang QianQiu just had one last question. He knew that he wouldn't like the answer, but it surely couldn't be worst than An Le's betrayal and schemes.
"The rouge cultivator, Huan Xiang, An Le's cousin," he felt weird saying that person's name again after so long. "Was him involved? I know he surely was, but I'm curious to which extent he was involved."
Lang QianQiu was sitting straight, looking directly at Qi Rong, who had been drinking the tea he had made for them as if it was alcohol. Then, Qi Rong suddenly straighten up and, with stabbing eyes, he gave to Lang QianQiu a look that was uncannily familiar.
"Huan Xiang..." Qi Rong whispered, letting a little sigh to leave his mouth.
Then, the impossible happened. Long beautiful black hair was now brown, made in a bun. Full, heart-shaped lips were now thin and less pink. The high check bones were now lower. The perfect nose was now a little bit out of place. The sharp thin eyebrows were now rounder and thicker. The glowing green eyes, those with a cat-like shape were now dull brown, with a round shape. The deathly pale skin now had a natural tan caused by sun exposition. Even the petite figure looked taller and wider.
Qi Rong wasn't there anymore. There was Huan Xiang, with lifeless eyes and emotionless face.
(How ironic, that a ghost like Qi Rong could be so full of life and emotions, meanwhile Huan Xiang looked like a shell. But how funny was that Lang QianQiu found himself unable to accept the obvious.)
Breath in, breath out.
"I needed to make sure that no one fucked up," informed Qi Rong calmly, with a voice that was 100% his but sounded just like Huan Xiang.
Breath in, breath out.
"So I made this character. A perfect scapegoat if something went wrong and an easy way to be near to everything when needed," he said and then the illusion fell and Qi Rong was back in the quite kitchen, looking pretty with the candle flame giving them some light in the middle of the night.
Fuck it.
"You're lying," Lang QianQiu growled in despair.
Qi Rong just looked at him without any energy to deal with Lang QianQiu's denial. He almost got up to leave, but Lang QianQiu screamed.
"You can't leave!" He needed him to explain. "You owe me answers! You owe me bastard!"
Qi Rong laughed in disbelief. "And what answers you want? I told you everything fucker! Every little detail, every fucking thing that I know has been said. I can't tell you more because there's no more!" He shrilled, angry and full of that unsettling feeling that always surrounded him.
But that's a lie, Lang QianQiu know that's a lie. They hadn't talked about Qi Rong, about his personal reasons, about own feelings around the matter. They had acted as if Qi Rong wasn't the most emotionally invested in destroying Yong'An piece by piece.
But Lang QianQiu didn't want to ask. Because he knew.
He knew how the Prince Xiao Jing died burnt alive, set on fire after an attack against the Capital by an unknown man dressed in white. How his ancestors supposed that it could be a good way to send a message to every remaining of Xian Le.
He knew about how, meanwhile the people of Xian Le found comfort making statues disrespecting their fallen god, Yong'An found pride in being able to capture the unruled Prince Xiao Jing. The kind of sayings that were made around the prince's alleged insanity, laziness, violence and lack of talent.
He knew about the tradition of "burning the prince" every anniversary of Yong'An's victory. How they will do big ragdolls with green fabric just to set it on fire. He remembers how his father always said that the tradition just leaded to more violence between Yong'An and Xian Le.
He even knew about how the green became a color that "just prostitutes should wear". His father taught him all of it. As an idealist, his father knew all of those things.
Lang QianQiu didn't want to ask. He doesn't need to hear it. He knows.
(But Lang QianQiu also remember the good days in the palace. He remembers the few sparring sessions they had, the conversations, the jokes, the good memories. How they went to a Night Hunt once, the festivals they lived together and the long lazy afternoons were Huan Xiang would do an infinity of things just because he was bored. From discussions about who was the best poet to him showing off his skills in music. Lang QianQiu feel like he knows nothing now.)
Looking at Qi Rong, Lang QianQiu felt old, millenniums old. This wasn't fair, he didn't deserved any of this. Lang QianQiu had always been good with everyone, he even took care of Qi Rong when he didn't have to. Lang QianQiu always respected Huan Xiang, he never asked for more than what he deserved. Lang QianQiu deserved that Qi Rong lied to him about this, he deserved to not now about this.
(How to accept that was once in love with someone like the vicious Green Ghost? How to accept that he once hoped he could get his attention? How to accept that he knew nothing about the person he so childishly fell in love with?
How to accept that he has felt the phantom of those feelings again when he have seen Qi Rong taking care of Gu Zi? How to accept that he sometimes felt enchanted by his eyes? How to accept that he, somehow, liked Qi Rong more than he liked Huan Xiang?)
Lang QianQiu wanted...
"How did you felt about me?" He said so quietly that just Qi Rong could hear it. "Did you always hate me? Did you felt anything else? I want to know that, I need to know."
Qi Rong twisted his face in confusion and then in surprise. He seemed speechless, but Lang QianQiu didn't have to wait to much. Qi Rong wasn't Huan Xiang after all.
"Nothing in particular," he admits, as straightforward as someone could be. "Sometimes I hated you, sometimes I found you amusing. Sometimes I felt nothing at all. You were... I don't know, you didn't act like most people, but you seemed so similar to my bastard cousin that I don't know."
Qi Rong said softly. "Huan Xiang wasn't meant to be likable for you. You were so fucking weird..." His eyes were a little curious, with a better mood than before.
And is then when ugly fat tears started falling from his eyes for Qi Rong's absolute disturb.
How dare him? Lang QianQiu thinks. How dare Qi Rong to say that he felt "nothing in particular" for him? How dare him to be in calm when Lang QianQiu's heart was bleeding, completely broken? How is this possible? Why couldn't Qi Rong just tell him that he hated his guts since he was born? Why is he telling him that he almost felt good things for him? Why couldn't Qi Rong not compare him with the cousin that left him to die? Why couldn't this be simple?
Ugly sobs started coming out of his mouth and every stabbing feeling of loss came back. The years of loneliness, the funerals, the what if's, the burning feeling of being stabbed on the back by your loved ones, the melancholy, the heartbreak. Everything came back and Lang QianQiu just could cry as he has never cried.
His anger and hate have disappeared too soon, and now just the sorrow stayed.
A cold hand touched his arm, making him notice that now Qi Rong was sitting at his side, looking at him as if Lang QianQiu had became a blue creature with three heads and no limbs. As if he didn't understood his suffering, Qi Rong seemed to be out of his comfort zone.
"Ayo, A'Qiu I still hate you! Hmmm... Like, you're the prince of Yong'An and you throw me too my own soup," he mumbled nervously, as if he was trying to comfort Lang QianQiu. "Don't cry like that... You look pathetic! You look better angry, ok?"
It was almost cute how Qi Rong had no idea what was making him cry so horribly nor how to comfort him, but Lang QianQiu sobbed even more when he realized that Qi Rong was trying to comfort him. It was not fair. Now he felt even weaker and, giving up, he let himself rest his face on Qi Rong's shoulder.
(The smell of blood was way more prominent, and there was a smell of ashes, but the soft perfume of gardenias was still there. A sweet smell that made him feel dizzy.)
Qi Rong froze at Lang QianQiu's actions, tense, waiting for another thing to happen. But nothing happened, Lang QianQiu just cried and cried on his shoulder until the day came and they had to fullfil their own responsibilities. Lang QianQiu was dead silent the rest of the day, lost in his mind. Qi Rong seemed normal for anyone who didn't knew him well, but Lang QianQiu could feel his stiffness and confusion.
Lang QianQiu only had an answer at the next night, when on his bed he found flowers. Some narcissus, a handful of chrysanthemums (yellow and white), a few yellow clove pinks, tons of gardenias and some white roses, all of them in a pretty bouquet. Damn Qi Rong, because now Lang QianQiu had to learn what those flowers mean. He couldn't be straightforward like last night, could he?
(Damn his heart, because he's having that stupid hope again.)
♦
Él es un cuento de hadas, solo un sueño fugaz