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Jing Yuan finds his eyes traveling to Ren as the play goes on, only to find the man staring at the reincarnation of their old friend with hooded eyes. Similarly, he turns to look at Dan Heng, and finds that he only has eyes for the Trailblazer. He wants to laugh. Even after hundreds of years, the three of them are still trapped in this circle of denial. Perhaps it has only been him in this unbreakable cycle all these times— to pine over and over after men who would never accept his heart. Who only knows how to take, but never to give back. One would think that he had learnt from his mistakes. But now, finding himself captured by the same man who had trampled over his love, who had rejected him in favor of chasing a man who no longer remembers him, Jing Yuan only thinks that he is stupid. He had thought he was better than this. Frustrated, Jing Yuan turns away with a wave of his sleeve, hastening to leave the area, no longer wanting to watch the show.
Just as he turns away, dark crimson red eyes slowly follow his movements, his every step as he steps away. Jing Yuan doesn’t bother to pay attention to his surroundings, only focusing on striding back to his Mansion with large steps, as if he couldn’t get away far enough from those eyes.
The moment he enters his Mansion, he only issued a single order for the Cloud Knights to leave him, before he steps towards the study room, pulling the red ribbon away, letting the white hair fall loosely on his shoulders. He opens the doors to the room to see the wine pot he has been looking for everywhere has been placed on a small stove by an unknown hand. But as if his past were ghosts haunting him, Jing Yuan only has to look up to meet the same red eyes he had been running away from when he closes the doors behind him. And in that moment he really looks at the man in front of him, Jing Yuan only sucks in a breath, once again lost in those eyes as he had been in the past.
The wine pot on the stove and the delicately crafted jade cup sitting quietly on the low table had been his treasure for over five hundred years, but now he is filled with the urge to smash it to the ground. To smash everything to the ground, as it had been in the past. Although many thinks that the Luofu’s esteemed general is a calm and calculating man, all that’s beneath is a long-lived species who is obsessed with the past but unwilling to sacrifice himself to the mara— all that’s beneath is a man who would willingly let his beloved play with him as if he is mere puppet, for nothing— not even a single word of love. He is tired of doing all these meaningless things. He had loved so hard— loved till his bones broke, but still he is unwanted. What had he been doing wrong? Why must life torture him so? But no matter how much emotions he is dealing with, and how intense it is, Jing Yuan only stands, as if he is unmovable, untouchable even when standing in the eye of the storm that is his past lover’s gaze.
He pours himself a cup, his hand shaking too hard to be steady even when handling hot things. His hands felt wet, but he continued until the cup slightly overflowed with wine, not caring whether he had scalded himself by pouring the wine so carelessly. He misses the eager eyes of the other man as red eyes fixated on the rapidly reddening skin. “Aren’t you leaving?” He asks, his voice quiet, but Ren only looks at him. Jing Yuan only laughs hollowly. “Or are you just another illusion to haunt my night?” The black haired man is sitting by the open window Jing Yuan had designed himself, to be able to see the cherry blossom tree in full bloom during spring, his black hair loose, his eyes piercingly red. If Jing Yuan had just loosened the cage around his heart a little, he would have drowned in those eyes, like how he had been repeatedly torturing himself these years. Laying in bed with a man who has no stronger feelings than hatred and revenge, letting him bed him as he whispers his name.
Ren stares for another moment, before he takes a deep breath, as if he wants to speak. But before he could, Jing Yuan takes a long sip of his drink, before he looks over at him. “Stop looking at me.” His words seemed to overlap with the past, when he had fallen into bed with Yingxing. But this time, his voice is not seductive, nor is it filled with crying softness. Instead, Jing Yuan looks at the distance, his gold eyes pained. He speaks, his voice emotionless. “I don’t look anything like the person you longed for.” Ren’s eyes darkened, and he replied, “What do you mean by that.” You are him. The General only lowers his head to stare at the wine cup. “You know what I meant.” I don't. He lifts his head to meet Ren’s gaze again, and the mara-struck hunter is struck again by those gold eyes.
"Anyways," Jing Yuan says, pouring himself another full cup of wine. Ren can smell the sweet scent in the room— it's his favorite osmanthus wine. He narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. He looks not a day older , Ren thinks to himself, his eyes lowered. His voice unconsciously softens. "What is it," he asks, and Jing Yuan seemed to be startled by his voice. He pauses for a moment, before he continues, "I think we need to stop this. I'm not a whore you call to bed when you're feeling lonely, nor am I easy enough to be a replacement for whatever you're missing." "What do you mean—" "What do you think I mean?" Jing Yuan's voice is sharp, but Ren knows that he is just pretending. The person he knows is always soft-hearted and gentle. "What I mean is, I'm no longer the same child you think I am, Ren." He clenches his fist. "Besides, he is back, so naturally, you have no need for me anymore, right?" Jing Yuan's head throbs. He desperately itches for something to put him out of this misery.
“You are not a replacement.” “Quit making excuses for something I can see so openly.” Jing Yuan takes another sip, before he places the cup back on the table. “Take your things with you when you leave. The glaive, too.” He breathes out. His hair hid his expression from Ren, and he doesn’t seem too interested to show him any potential weaknesses he may expose by tying his hair. “I don’t need it anymore.” “You are most familiar with the glaive. Are you trying to kill yourself?” “Anything is better than it being a constant reminder of you.” Jing Yuan’s hand curls into a loose fist, gathering the fabric of his clothes and wrinkling it in his grip. But still his voice remains calm. “I plan to live a long time, and the less I see of you, the more I can forget.”
Ren pulls him towards himself, his eyes an obsessive crimson. Red like the blood they shed. Red like the blood moon on the day he left him in Luofu alone. “You can’t unlove me.” You are blind to my yearning, blind to my obsession. His voice lowers even further, to the point that only the two of them can hear it in this vast room. “You can never forget me. I know you best.” His words are like a brand on the other’s still-beating heart. Jing Yuan doesn’t avert his gaze. His words felt like a knife to his own guts, but still he says it— “Forgetting someone is easy. If I can stop smoking, I too can stop loving you.” He watches as Ren’s eyes darken in the only way it does when he is truly angry, and pushes him away with a hand when he leans forward, wanting to take a bite directly instead of speaking.
From dislike to infatuation to love to hatred to obsession, Jing Yuan had sacrificed all his emotions for this man. Why does he remain so unmoved to him? Is he so unlikeable— is he someone so undeserving of even the most basic happiness? What is the reason for a long lived species if all he has to his name is the many medals of a general, but nothing even remotely close to making him feel like he is an actual human instead of a war machine?
Jing Yuan releases the breath he had been holding tremblingly. He doesn’t know what Ren is saying, nor can he hear anything at this moment. He is only swept into the whirlpool of emotions he had been locked away for a long time. But this time, Jing Yuan finds that he is finally sober. He sees everything clearer than he had ever been before, lost in the haze of love and desperation and obsession. He finds the truth he had been running away a thousand years ago.
He is the only one insane enough to love him, but he is also the only one insane enough to stay by his side. He is the only one who thought the other cared about him, when all he amounts to in his thoughts is nothing but mere dust. He must be a replacement for another man who Yingxing could never have— who Ren could never obtain even now. Something slid down his face, and Jing Yuan raised a hand only to find his fingertips wet. Only then did he realize that he was crying. He is pathetic, Jing Yuan thinks apathetically, even as tears drip down his face. He has always been like this, wanting love although it's not meant for him. He knows Ren would not comfort him, but still he doesn’t wipe his tears away.
He sees it now. It had always been so clear to him. If his life is a movie, then he should be the lovelorn maiden who threw herself overboard to escape the knowledge of his lover's fading love for him. If his life is a drama, then he would be the third rate actor who could never live up to the male lead’s white moonlight—
“ Jing Yuan .”
He is grabbed by the shoulders and forced to face Ren, subsequently pulling him out of his own thoughts. He stares, his gold eyes wet with tears, into Ren’s eyes, as if he can convince himself of something. Seemingly failed, he slumps down, letting Ren support his dead weight. “You have to let me go, Ren,” he says, almost quiet now. It is nothing like the outburst he had earlier, or the silent breakdown he experienced just now. Ren only stares silently, before he dug his fingers in. "Stop thinking." Ren hisses, “Stop—” Thinking about casting me away. After so many years, so many death and rebirth, Ren has grown increasingly distant, increasingly far away. But Jing Yuan finds that his eyes are still the same bright red he has always known. The same beautiful red he sees at sunset. The same red he sees when he opens his eyes to see him lying next to him.
The same red he sees when his master stands over Yingxing's dead body.
Ren presses his thumb over Jing Yuan's lips, whispering his name like it's the only prayer he had ever known in this long life of his. How is this not a drug, Jing Yuan thinks to himself, as he lets himself be drawn to Ren again. Why is it that when he falls in love with this man, it's like falling into a rabbit hole? As if this man in front of him is not an undead, but a living god. He couldn't help but to shed tears when Ren pressed a pious kiss against his own lips, his hand crushing Jing Yuan's shoulders, crinkling the smooth fabric under his fingers. He sighs against Jing Yuan's lips, as if he had finally found salvation in him, but only Jing Yuan knows that he had done nothing but drag him deeper into hell. His eyes slowly fluttered close to hide those brilliant gold eyes, as if he is slowly losing his brilliance by Ren's side. He places a hand slowly over Ren's shoulder, raising his eyes to see the night sky behind the Stellaron Hunter. In the end, he is always the weak one. In the end, he is always the one who lacked the conviction to leave the man pressed against him at this exact moment. No matter what he says or thinks, his body would surrender to Ren, as if he is wholly his and no one else's, not even his own person in the end. As if he had always, from the start of it all, been born to love him.
What can I do, but to fall into hell with him?