Work Text:
June 5, 1812
My Dearest, Kexing,
It is always ungodly hot in town during the season. This fact is, of course, exacerbated by all the bodies pressed together in the ballrooms every night. Almost no one in attendance can hold a conversation, and the talk is of nothing but whose debut was the most dynamic, who will catch the most eligible man–insufferable. Numerous matrons have beseeched me, on hearing that I have 5, 000 a year, to dance with their daughters. The girls are hardly old enough to speak, let alone to marry! And their manners are atrocious–one young waif, upon learning that I was nearly 30, had the gall to ask me how someone of my advanced age was still unwed. I wish my cousin didn’t require me to attend all of these endless dances, but he must receive his gossip somewhere, and apparently everyone else had better things to do.
Wish you were here,
Zishu
Wen Kexing, sitting at the table in his morning room dressed in his night clothes and silk banyan robe, put down the letter with a look of determination. “A-Xiang!” he shouted as he all but leapt from the table.
His sister (still yet to debut herself, though 20) jumped in surprise at his outburst. “What on earth has gotten you so worked up this time,” she asked. Her eyes flitted to the letter in his hand and she gave him a knowing smile. “Is that from Zhou Zishu?” she asked, a sparkle in her eye.
Wen Kexing pursed his lips at her. “It is indeed. And he requests our presence in town.”
Xiang snatched the letter from his grasp and read it through quickly. “What do you mean ‘requests our presence’? You’re reading too much into this.”
“Hardly,” Kexing responded, grabbing for the letter, “he says he has no one to talk to, he wishes I was there, and, may I remind you, he calls me ‘dearest!’”
Xiang rolls her eyes. “You hate London. You hate the season. You hate all the mothers and daughters just as much as he does.”
“That is as it may be–but he clearly needs rescuing. And besides, isn’t it about time you debuted?” He asked, mouth quirking up at the corners.
“Me?” Xiang asked, incredulous. “You wouldn’t approve of any man who asked to marry me. I bet you wouldn’t even let me dance with anyone.”
Kexing smiled indulgently at her “It is true it is difficult for me to think of you as an adult, but I promise I’ll behave and let you dance–though I’m not keen on the idea of you marrying your first season out. Or your second, or third for that matter.”
Xiang swatted at his shoulder. “You know perfectly well that a girl who doesn’t find a husband in her first two seasons is considered a lost cause.”
“Well, we’ll have to see what happens, won’t we. I doubt there will be anyone there who interests you, but I suppose we never know.” He clapped his hands decisively. “Well, you shall have the best gowns money can buy. We’ll stay at Auntie’s townhouse. We can have things arranged in as little as 3 days. What do you say?”
“You’re a lunatic.” Xiang responds, sticking out her tongue. “Let’s go already!”
***
Three days later, Zhou Zishu attended what had been advertised to him as the most splendid ball of the season at the home of wealthy nobleman Zhao Jing. It was true, the man was certainly rich–though the gaudy furnishings that dripped in gold leaf and the (actual, live) peacocks were not exactly to Zishu’s taste. At the very least he wasn’t entirely alone at this event, as his friends Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi had finally arrived from their home in the countryside. That said, Zishu still felt a pang of loneliness every time he thought of what Wen Kexing would say about the furnishings, the conversation, and, particularly, the gossip. Really, there was no one in the world who understood him the way Kexing did.
“Don’t look so downcast, Zishu,” Beiyuan said, laughing. “It’s a party!” They had already eaten dinner, and the doors to the ballroom had been thrown open–beyond were French doors to the garden, which, by the glimpse of it they could see, may be the true gem of Zhao Jing’s mansion.
Zishu didn’t respond, but Wu Xi did, saying in a slightly chiding tone, “Beiyuan, you know Zishu hates parties.” Before Beiyuan had a chance to respond, Zishu had occasion to look toward the door to the garden, and his breath caught in his throat. Wen Kexing stood there, resplendent in an embroidered green coat with gold accents that brought out his eyes. He led his sister, Xiang, by her arm. Xiang wore a beautiful purple dress. Xiang was clearly excited to attend the ball, eyes sweeping around the room, trying to take in all the sights all at once. Wen Kexing, on the other hand, fixed his unnerving gaze on Zishu, and didn’t look anywhere else at all.
“I imagine,” Beiyuan said, looking at the way Zishu’s mouth had gone slack and the way he and Kexing seemed unable to look away from each other, “That this is the Wen Kexing we’ve heard so much about.”
“Yes.” Zishu breathed, barely above a whisper.
“Well, will you introduce us?” Beiyuan asked, eyes glinting. He needn’t have said anything, however, as Zishu was already walking through the crowd toward the door to the garden. Beiyuan and Wu Xi exchanged a glance and followed.
To Zishu, those few steps across the ballroom felt like an eternity, and also like only a second. “You came,” he said to Kexing, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I did. After all, from your letter it seemed as though someone needed to liven the place up.” Kexing responded, an answering smile on his own lips.
Zishu realized it would be inappropriate to not address Miss Xiang as well, so he turned to her, gave a small bow and said “Miss Xiang, you are a vision in amethyst. How lovely to see you again.”
Xiang curseyed demurely before laughing. “How formal you are, Zishu-ge! What do you think, shall I find my husband here tonight?”
Zishu looked around, he could see she had already caught the eye of a young man in a light blue coat. So enthralled was the young man, in fact, that he openly stared at her, mouth agape. “You may indeed. However, before you do, I’d like you to meet some friends of mine.” He turned and indicated Beiyuan and Wu Xi, who stood expectantly, but politely behind him. “This is my friend Jing Beiyuan, Lord Seventh, and this is Wu Xi, whom you may know as the Great Shaman.” Beiyuan and Wu Xi bowed in turn, kissing Xiang’s hand and nodding to Kexing. “This lovely young woman” he said, smiling at Xiang, “Is Miss Xiang, newly debuted, if I’m not mistaken?”
She nodded gleefully. “Yes, my brother here has finally accepted that I may have to grow up one day.”
Zishu laughed, he could see that Kexing was struggling with the idea of Xiang married and living a life apart from him. After all, they had been only the two of them for so long. “And this gentleman,” he said “Is Wen Kexing.” He didn’t feel he needed to say anything more by way of introduction. He turned back to Xiang “Miss Xiang, would you be so kind as to let me borrow your escort for a little while?”
Xiang nodded, and Beiyuan, grasping the situation immediately, stepped forward, asking, “Miss Xiang, would you honor me with your first dance of the evening? I promise you will suffer no proposals of marriage from me.”
Xiang accepted his outstretched hand and smiled in understanding, sneaking a glance at Wu Xi. “Wonderful news, I’m sure that knowledge will please my brother enough for him to agree.” She looked with hopeful eyes at Kexing.
“You may dance with Lord Seventh.” Kexing responded “But don’t step on his toes and have him knowing how inadequate I was in handling your dance instruction.” The siblings shared a playful look before Kexing turned back to Zishu. “Shall we take a stroll in the garden?”
“That’s what I was going to suggest,” Zishu responded.
***
They had walked far enough into the gardens to barely see the light from the ballroom before either of them spoke. Wen Kexing walked with his arms behind his back in a faux leisurely pose, and when he finally spoke he shot Zhou Zishu what he hoped was a coy glance and asked “So, you missed me, then?”
Zishu bumped his shoulder at Kexing’s playfully, “What gives you that idea?”
“You asked me to come, and you said I was a good conversationalist.” Kexing continued. It had always been easier for him to joke when he was with Zishu–it was easier than admitting the depth of his feeling–easier than being truly vulnerable.
“I said no one here was–” Zishu began, his adorable smirk just barely hiding his smile.
Kexing cut him off “--as good company as I am.” They smiled happily at each other, and Kexing continued “Who knew that Zhao Jing’s house in the city had such extensive grounds. Is that a brook I hear?”
They edged closer to the sound of water, and soon found themselves under the boughs of a willow tree by said brook. Kexing laughed to himself–”This setting is just like the novels Xiang insists on reading aloud to me.”
Zishu laughed too, “Indeed, the setting is quite romantic.”
Kexing turned to face him, smile faltering. It was romantic, but less because of the moonlight and the water and the willow tree. More so because he was here with Zhou Zishu. “While I understand that you missed me–there is something–from your letter,” he could barely meet Zishu’s gaze, “something that I’d like to ask you about.”
Zishu stepped closer to him, close enough to touch him, though he didn’t. “Ask me.” He said firmly, with confidence, but with a softness to his voice as well.
“In your letter,” Kexing continued, swallowing hard–embarrassed to find that his throat seemed so dry all of a sudden, “I noticed a comma–in the middle of a phrase. It changed the meaning.” He stepped closer to Zishu, now only a breath away. “Did…did you intend this?” He whispered, knowing that there was no way to avoid showing his vulnerability now. “You wrote, ‘my dearest’ with a comma after ‘dearest.’ Did you intend this?” He couldn’t keep the fear from his eyes as he waited for Zishu’s response.
Zishu looked at him almost fondly, though that could have been Kexing’s imagination. He said “Make a guess.”
Looking around to make sure they were alone, Kexing reached his fingers toward Zishu’s face, brushing his cheekbone gently, “I think you intended it.” Kexing said, fingers still lingering on the other man’s cheek, but he knew there was still a question behind his words.
For a moment that seemed to Kexing like a lifetime, they stood there, so close he could feel the warmth from Zishu’s body, eyes locked together. Then, Zishu moved to close the gap between them, lips landing on Kexing’s in a slow, sweet kiss. When they parted Zishu said, a blush creeping on his cheeks, unable to look at Kexing now, “Yes, I intended it.”