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Xie Lian had never felt suffocated before. He had no fear of drowning or suffocation. Stuck in a box was never a fear. For most of his life he was the prince. The beauty, the glory and heart of his kingdom. He was young. He was young.
He’d experienced a lot of things, he can bear through anything. That’s what he tells himself. He’s numb. He can laugh while being stabbed.
People weren’t supposed to live this long. People weren't supposed to feel the things he was feeling.
Xie Lian had never felt suffocated before. He had no fear of drowning or suffocation. Stuck in a box was never a fear. For most of his life he was the prince. The beauty, the glory and heart of his kingdom. He was young.
He was young.
At least he thought he was young. Was he 22 or 23? He wasn’t sure. For all he knew he could be 78 already. Maybe over 100. Days or years, it was the same. The pain was the same. Oddly enough as time went on, he began to feel more and more things. It’s like his senses had been heightened. He could feel the damp soil, and the bugs crawling on his skin. He could feel them eating him alive. He wanted out.
The stake stabbed through him, and had begun to feel as if it was melding into his flesh. The rotten wood corroding his skin and organs. He probably looked like a rotting corpse. He… He was a rotting corpse. But why was he alive? He was the same as a corpse but he was alive. Why?
His bleeding was fast originally, but soon he lost too much blood and couldn’t even bleed any longer. It was numbing. His entire body was numb. He remembered as a child when he fell asleep on his arm he’d run to his mother and ask her to fix it. He always thought she was a saint. Healing his arm…
Mother…
The mix of dried blood, dirt, mud, and flesh stuck to him created a layer of flaking black all over his body. There were bugs feasting on his flesh. He could feel them crawling over him. He could feel them under his skin. They wouldn’t stop. He knew he couldn’t be capable of feeling anything at the moment. Perhaps it was all just an illusion. That would be nice. If he thought about it long enough he could imagine that there weren;t any bugs on him at all, and he was perfectly safe in his bed, the warm sheets blanketing him instead of the dirt…
Maybe there would be more space too. In the coffin there was no space to move. His voice was gone. He could no longer cry out for help. His throat was dry, yet his surroundings were damp. There was no air left. He couldn't breathe. He didn’t need to breathe. But he really wanted to breathe. He missed the smell of morning dew and even his mothers soup…
Sometimes he could have sworn he could hear people. Sometimes their voices even took the form of people he knew. People he knew were long gone. His mother, his father, Feng Xin and Mu Qing, his Guoshi, the small ghost fire… It couldn’t possibly be any of them. He knew that.
Perhaps it was a street vender? Or a group of disciples with their master… Maybe he was hearing things. He heard a lot of things. Sometimes the voice of white no face would whisper in his ear. It’s not much different.
Even White No-Face’s voice began to feel comforting. It was weird. The thing he feared most. Any voice would be welcome. Even if they screamed and yelled at him. Even if they berated him…
Over the days Xie Lian felt an odd aching numbness settle in his chest. He stopped screaming. He was going to rot here. For eternity. Because, an immortal cannot die. No matter how badly he wished, he’d still be trapped in this coffin, In his own filth. The bugs will continue to eat his flesh, and he will continue to be unable to cry, unable to call for help, unable to breathe or eat or smile or laugh.
Rouye would occasionally curl around him, or nuzzle his cheek. His ears could barely make it out. The rustling. He wished he could feel it. Maybe if he waited a while. The thing created from his pain… Used to hide his hated face, used to bind him as he was stabbed, used to hang the stiff bodies of his parents… And now, stuck in here with him, making feeble attempts to wipe the dirt and blood off his body.
He hated the silk band for a while after. But the gentle acts made his eyes prickle. He had no tears, so it might’ve been the dirt, but the small fondness that was growing for the shitty ribbon grew.
Xie Lian leans into the silky creature and he shuts his eyes again… Dream of the day he could get out. Wish for his mothers warm voice. Hope for his friends' laughter and bickering…
Waiting for death… Or life. Not this.
Somebody might save him…
Maybe in a little while.
He’ll just have to wait. Make company with the bugs and hallucinations tearing open his heart.