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When Qi Rong was a little child, before leaving that man's house, his mother told him about her wedding. A ceremony made with no money on their names, running from the Capital, leaving behind her family and arranged fiance, most women would find a wedding like that a nightmare. Instead, his mother didn't seem to remember her nightmarish wedding like that, but more like a good dream she couldn't grasp anymore.
"I used a horrible, tasteless bride gown," she said with a smile. "Your father's garments where too small for him and it was raining outside the temple. Nobody was with us but the priest of that little village."
Qi Rong couldn't remember how his mother's eyes looked like, but he knew she was happy when talking. Happiness so unusual in his mother, the little Qi Rong was stunned back then by her smile.
"I was afraid at first, "what have I done?" I thought. But then your father looked at me." The happiness was clouded by the sinking sadness that surrounded his mother. "That was when I knew he loved me, Rong'er, and that's the only thing that matters."
His mother, just a blurry imagine now, loved to the last day of her life the servant that catched her heart when they were young. She always talked about that, how that man's eyes were the world for her or how his voice made her days brighter. Qi Rong, back then, tried to share her feelings towards that scary, tall man, but the bruises on his mother's skin and her pained tears every night never abandoned his mind. The screams of a masculine voice fighting with a feminine voice full of reproach filled his nights, as well as the odor of cheap alcohol. The love seemed to appear only when that man woke up the next morning every morning and lasted until he went to work.
Qi Rong thought, at the time, that maybe love would be stronger and the things would get better. They left before that man ever showed an intention to change.
(The sound of his own head being smacked against the floor was permanently fresh in him. The confusion, the pain and the blood were things that never left him even when they vanished from the sight. His mother never forgot it either.)
It was tragic then that his mother's happiness relayed on the memory of her wedding, in the what if's, in the lost hope. Qi Rong never understood the fuss about it. He never wanted or thought about those fantasies of romantic love that his mother always had. The hope was never there for him to blind him and cuddle him.
(He understood the fuss. He wanted and thought about those fantasies of romantic love that never ends and can overcome everything. The hope was there sometimes to blind him, sometimes to cuddle him. He desired to have what his mother always dreamed to have.)
As he grew older, love just seemed to become a wicked lie that he was told. Romantic love, filial love, any love, all of them were lies. Qi Rong learned, too late, when his body was not more than ashes, that he wouldn't be loved. Love could be true for some, for lucky ones, the ones that fate liked the most. Qi Rong has never been lucky not liked by anyone, therefore, he wasn't destined to be loved not matter how much his heart could bleed for someone. Love just wasn't an option for him.
But somehow, when his soul was too many centuries old, someone dared to love him. A little, dumb boy that was too similar to Qi Rong at his age cried out loud that he loved his dad. Qi Rong wasn't a dad, but his dead heart almost had a new beat at the idea, the possibility of accepting someone's love instead of being the one who loves until is finally abandoned or hurt. Qi Rong accepted that love, sweet and innocent, to feel it until that dumb boy finally left behind. He accepted that love, without imagining the possibility of him being the one who would leave the boy behind.
(Qi Rong almost vanished after saying what he thought would be his last words, but the tears of that boy kept him there. He couldn't leave that child behind.)
When he finally came back for his son, the dumb prince of Yong'An was there, forbidding him to leave his palace on Heaven. It was his punishment, the dumbass said, the least he deserved for all the pain he caused. Qi Rong couldn't care less about Lang QianQiu's sense of justice, but his son liked the bastard and he was too weak to fight back then.
So, he stayed. At first annoying Lang QianQiu around for the sake of pissing him off, then just seeking his attention to cure his boredom. The prince, always falling for any of his attempts, seemed to get use to it, to his presence and existence around him. Once Lang QianQiu accepted his fate as Qi Rong's jailer, his burning hate colding down with the time, the things even felt friendly sometimes.
Qi Rong has found himself curious about the princeling, and Lang QianQiu seemed to always have a new doubt about Qi Rong. It took decades of wary attitudes and disdainful behavior with one another, Gu Zi even ascended as a God, before they started to find themselves comfortable with each other, feeling more like old friends rather than the enemies they were. Lang QianQiu started to like the endless eccentricity of Qi Rong, his quirks and twisted humor felt endearing for him. Qi Rong started to look up to the prince with heroic face, his mind erasing the disgusting similarities with his cousin, making him look almost like the dreams he had about his cousin when he was just a dumb child.
The stabbing looks became amused. The hurtful remarks became teasing. The rough attitude became gentler. The endless fight became shorter and meaningless. Slowly, the time together became a pleasure for both. They felt close, with a strange feeling of domesticity between them. They were now friends, or that's what they thought at first, a bit disturbed by the progressive but big change.
But now, when Lang QianQiu's arms were keeping Qi Rong in a gentle hug, they found themselves in love. In love with warm feeling of being together, in love the beings they had become, in love with the understanding between them. They were in love, and Qi Rong felt confused again, overwhelmed by Lang QianQiu's softness at the moment of touching him now, ashamed of the happiness that bubbled in his chest when he looked at that heroic face.
"I..." Lang QianQiu starts, with a blush embellishing his cheeks. "Uh, I think we... You know, like each other?"
Qi Rong laughs, amused by such awkwardness.
"I fucking guess," Qi Rong says with an smile. Lang QianQiu's relieved sigh just confuses Qi Rong more, but he keeps his smile.
The hope wasn't cuddling him anymore, Lang QianQiu was.