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The lights in the dance studio shone a menacing white colour as Xie Lian wrapped medical tape around his toes, wincing when he touched the sores on them as he did so. He wiped the blood that escaped when he was done and slipped his ballet shoes back on, hiding the injuries from view as if there was nothing there.
‘There is nothing there,’ he repeated in his head as he stood up and turned the music back on.
He ran to the center of the room and got into position, starting right on time, perfectly in sync with the music.
After years, Bai Laoshi had assigned Xie Lian the main role of a performance and he was determined not to let the man regret that decision. For as long as he had known his teacher, Xie Lian had tried to impress him so he could get here, but it had always seemed like every year Bai Laoshi had demanded more and more from him to the point where the boy had thought that his standards were impossible to reach. He hadn’t given up, though. He had practiced harder than he ever had before in his life, and dedicated all of his time to dancing, and at long last, when Bai Laoshi had announced the cast for that year’s performance, Xie Lian’s name had been right on top.
“Congratulations,” Bai Laoshi had told him, patting the dancer’s shoulders, “See what you can do with more practice?”
But Xie Lian didn’t take the role for granted. He knew that it was just as easy to fall from grace as it was to ascend to it, and he grit his teeth from the moment he had seen his name on the board and told himself that he wouldn’t lose this opportunity no matter what.
No matter how many hours he had to give it.
No matter how much his family protested that they never saw him anymore.
No matter how much his feet hurt and bled.
No matter how tired he got.
He didn’t have feelings anymore, he told himself. If he couldn’t feel anything he wouldn’t be tempted to give into the temptation of repose. Every moment he wasn’t dancing was time he was wasting. He shrugged off Mu Qing and Feng Xin when they told him it was unhealthy, because Bai Laoshi praised him even more each time he saw him, and wasn’t that all he should care about?
‘It is,’ he told himself whenever doubt poked around the corner, ‘I don’t feel anything. I’m not in pain. I’m not tired. I just need to keep going until Laoshi is satisfied.’
A dizzy spell caught him off guard and before he knew it he was falling to the floor mid pirouette. Unprepared as he was, Xie Lian had nothing to cushion his fall, and a loud thump echoed through the dance studio when his body hit the floor.
The music kept playing, but Xie Lian stayed on the floor, breathing in the smell of the linoleum floor, his sweat and the blood that had seeped through the tape and his ballet shoes as he’d danced. He breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath and to pull himself back up, but he found that he had no strength in his body to do so. No, this couldn’t be happening. He repeated his mantra about not feeling in his mind, hoping he would believe it, not realising that he couldn’t feel his body anymore anyway.
In the background, the music ended and the next song started playing, and Xie Lian thought he heard the front door of the studio opening.
A few seconds later a figure dressed in a long red coat and black hair appeared in the doorway. Xie Lian’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the figure, trying to tell if it was real or a figment of his imagination, but no sooner had the person seen him than he was running towards him.
There was no doubt in his mind after that. The only one who wouldn’t blink twice before coming to him was Hua Cheng.
“Gege,” his boyfriend exclaimed when he reached his side.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian replied weakly, a nickname from the first dance performance they had been in together that had stuck with them forever.
Hua Cheng rushed to the stereo and turned the music off before helping him sit up and letting him lean against him as he steadied himself.
“Gege, how long have you been here?” he asked.
Xie Lian wished he knew so he could answer his question.
Assessing the situation, Hua Cheng pulled a bottle of water out of the backpack he was carrying with him and handed it to his boyfriend. “Here, drink,” he instructed him, “But not too quickly. And eat too.” He put his hand back into the bag and rummaged through it.
Xie Lian watched him fondly and took a few sips of water and some bites from the muesli bar Hua Cheng put in his hand after that.
“You can’t keep going like this,” his boyfriend told him, “Your body is going to break if you do.”
“I’m fine,” Xie Lian insisted, “I just hadn’t had any water, that’s all. Nothing hurts. I don’t feel—”
“That’s the problem,” Hua Cheng said, “You can’t just not feel, gege. Especially not after everything Bai Laoshi is putting you through. You’re pushing yourself so much just for his approval, when it’s obvious he’s just taking joy in watching you suffer.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Xie Lian shook his head, “It’s me, San Lang. I need to be perfect, and I’m not.”
“You are,” Hua Cheng said softly, sadly, “You’re the most perfect in this world and you don’t need to change anything about yourself. The one you are now is the one we all love. Bai Laoshi is a sadistic asshole. He doesn’t matter, he shouldn’t matter.”
Xie Lian didn’t respond to that. So many emotions were trying to break through the cage he had created and he didn’t know how much longer it was going to hold.
“I love you, gege,” Hua Cheng told him and took one of Xie Lian’s hands to place against his heart, “Can you feel that?”
Beneath Xie Lian’s fingers his boyfriend’s heart was beating at a pace he knew all too well, one different from the usual rhythm that kept him alive, one that was only for him.
The walls of the cage collapsed, and Xie Lian fell into Hua Cheng’s arms, sobbing quietly. His boyfriend shushed him and stroked his back gently as he let everything out.
There was pain, exhaustion, misery, despair… So much despair… But stronger than all those emotions, and the one Xie Lian had missed the most, was love. Pure unconditional love that knew no limits. His love for Hua Cheng.