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There was an order to the world: the sky and land must not touch. The two worlds should never collide, lest the Heavenly Principles strike the world down with rage.
In the midst of night, the land illuminated with moonlight, a boy trekked up toward the edge of a cliff. Sat on one of the many high points in Liyue, he placed a rusty lantern down onto the grass and looked up at the sky. There was not a single cloud in sight, displaying the full moon in all its glory, dwarfing the stars alongside it.
“It’s a perfect night, hm?” A boy suddenly appeared beside him, yet he did not feel alarmed. After all, they were close to each other.
“Chongyun,” Ga Ming breathed, his eyes widened as Chongyun’s misty appearance faced toward him. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Caught off guard, a heavy blue blush appeared on Chongyun’s face. “I’m wearing the same thing I usually wear. I, um, don’t see the need to compliment me like that when you’ve seen me wearing the same clothing a dozen times before.”
Ga Ming chucked, “I’m not talking about your clothes, silly. I’m talking about you .”
“ Oh .”
“Oh indeed,” Ga Ming teased. “You always look pretty in those clothes, though. They suit you.” Chongyun wore long white robes with blue accents, the ends long enough to nearly droop off of the cliff. The edges of his clothing faded into transparency, as if it were mist. A blue crescent moon was embroidered at the back of his robes, symbolizing his place in the world.
“Thank you. Your clothes tonight look lovely, too.” Chongyun smiled as he stared at the other boy. Ga Ming could see Chongyun’s eyes sparkling like the night sky—he found it adorable.
“Thanks! My grandma made all of it. Her clothes are so cool, I’m glad to be her grandkid!” Ga Ming gave a big grin as he giggled to himself. “Oh! Anyways, I should tell you about how the festival went…”
Their conversation went off without a hitch. The two boys rambled about their lives to each other, filling the other in with what they missed since the last time they met. They could only meet once a month, after all. They stayed close to each other, yet they never touched.
If only their hands could touch.
“If only…”
“Hm?” Ga Ming asked, “Did you say something?” He was laying on the grass while Chongyun was sitting up.
Chongyun waved his hands around. “N-Nothing! It’s…”
“It’s not nothing if you have something to say about it.” Ga Ming sat up, and was about to place a hand on Chongyun’s shoulder before they both recoiled back. Hard. In unison, they reacted.
“Sorry, I—”
“I’m sorry, I—”
They both paused to stare at each other, terrified. They were scared of each other, for each other. Their hearts were beating hard, their bodies were frozen. Not one of them dared to move a muscle.
Ga Ming broke the silence first. “Look, sorry, that was instinct. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Chongyun murmured, “You have nothing to be sorry about. I want to touch you, to—”
“ We can’t! ” Ga Ming shouted, and moved back quickly. “We can’t touch each other, you know that. I know you want to hold hands, but we cannot .”
Chongyun frowned as his heartbeat accelerated. Livid, he yelled, “ I know! ”
“Then why,” Ga Ming spoke through gritted teeth, “why did you say that?”
Because I love you.
Chongyun stood up. His flowy robes flattened onto the ground as tears vaporized upon touching the grass. He sniffled and wiped his tears with a sleeve, then stared at Ga Ming with glassy eyes. Broken-hearted, he softly announced, “I’m leaving.” He started floating off the ground, ready to return to the sky.
“Chongyun!” Within a heartbeat, Ga Ming reached out to the other boy in a panic.
And tightly grabbed Chongyun’s hand.
He pulled him back down, sending Chongyun’s face toward Ga Ming’s chest. Crying, Chongyun shoved his face against Ga Ming’s shirt, trembling as Ga Ming wrapped his arms around him. Feeling the fabric against his cheek, the warmth of his body, and the heart beating quickly inside his chest, Chongyun realized that this was real. He cried harder, feeling the warmth of a human for the first time, embracing Ga Ming’s presence around him. In turn, Ga Ming held Chongyun even tighter, comforting him.
After moments passed, the sky was already turning pink. A sign that the night has ended, but Chongyun was too caught in Ga Ming’s embrace to realize that. He looked up at Ga Ming, enraptured by his face up close, and gently placed a hand on his cheek.
“Why…?” Chongyun whispered.
“Because I love you,” Ga Ming confessed.
“Because you love… me?” Chongyun stared at Ga Ming with wide eyes, mouthing the words “love” repeatedly. “I,” he hesitated, tears staining his face again, “love you too.”
“Really?” Ga Ming asked cheekily.
“Really.”
“Do you really love me?” asked Chongyun, still in disbelief.
“Of course I do,” Ga Ming smiled. “I’m sorry for that freak out earlier, I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do if something bad happened to you because I did something, and—”
Chongyun placed a finger on Ga Ming’s lips with an endearing smile. “And yet, I’m still here.”
Realizing that, Ga Ming reached toward Chongyun’s hand with trepidation. Slowly, he placed a hand on Chongyun’s, before interlocking their fingers together. They stared at their hands for a few moments. Their hands were warm, and clammy too, but they didn’t care. They were touching each other. They were holding hands.That was the only thing that mattered right now.
And the moon had set as the sun rose.
Before Ga Ming knew it, Chongyun vanished into thin air. Sunlight poured onto grass as the boy’s warmth disappeared without a trace. He stared at the sky, which took the place of Chongyun’s face, and screamed. As tears finally broke, streaking down his face, he continued to scream. Ga Ming cursed out the Heavenly Principles as he grieved Chongyun’s warmth.
So he waited a month for their next meetup, yet visited the cliff every night. He was so sure that Chongyun would be there, waiting for him. He could only visit Ga Ming in the evening, after all. A full moon was just when it was safest for Chongyun to visit Ga Ming.
…Right?
Chongyun wasn’t there.
So Ga Ming waited another month.
Chongyun wasn’t there. Chongyun was gone.
The warmth he remembered that was emanating from Chongyun’s body was replaced with a freezing chill. The chill gnawed through every part of his body, and he could feel it deep inside of him. Ga Ming felt like he was going to freeze from the inside out.
He laid himself down on the cliff one last night as he watched the sun set. It was one year since Chongyun disappeared in his arms. Head against the grass, Ga Ming stared at the moon directly above him. He couldn’t remember Chongyun’s warmth. He couldn’t remember Chongyun’s face. The ice gnawed at his brain, and soon, his heart.
Ga Ming gazed at the full moon. “Chongyun,” he wheezed, “You look beautiful tonight.”
As he drew his last breath, a single teardrop fell from the moon. Upon contact with Ga Ming’s body, a mist flower bloomed.
One day, an old woman would come across it, weeping at the sight of it. A lantern, having lost its flame for a long time, sat next to the mist flower. She would light the lantern, warming the flower.
But even flames cannot save it.