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The ways people treated their hair could say a lot about them, and when you had lived for as long as Yin Yu and Quan Yizhen have… You had probably worn many different styles. But, maybe surprisingly, they hadn’t sported that many across their lives.
They were both fond of having clear routines, and their martial training also ingrained in them the value of comfort and practicality over aesthetics. That did not change even after their ascensions: they were never the kind of god that indulges in excessive luxury or who spends lots of time worrying about their own appearance.
Still, Yin Yu had always secretly envied Quan Yizhen’s hair: it was so distinctive and special, so different from his own, which was as plain and unremarkable as his face and… well. As everything else about him. Maybe that was the real reason why he enjoyed so much helping Yizhen take care of his hair, to bring out its beauty and potential, instead of letting it get all unkempt and tangled. He took every chance he got to help him with that.
Oh, but Quan Yizhen had never thought that Yin Yu’s appearance was plain or unremarkable. And he loved his shixiong’s hair, too! So elegant and healthy, black as spilled ink, with strands so soft and straight, the complete opposite of the bird nest he had, an absolute disaster that had always given him so many problems.
No, really: it had been an issue for him, for as long as he could remember. And when he was living in the streets, with no means to actually keep it clean or tidy, it got worse than ever. By the time he arrived at the sect, his wild mane was completely dirty and matted.
But his shixiong cared about him, and took the time to teach him how to take proper care of himself (and his hair). He actually had the patience to untangle and clean that mess, instead of just cutting it and call it a day! And he did that without complaining. It was the first time his hair looked that good, and the first time Quan Yizhen did not hate his curly mane.
His shixiong had jokingly said that he looked a bit like a lion, and patted his head, like he was actually proud of him.
From that moment on, Quan Yizhen did his best to consistently comb, brush and clean his hair. And whenever he had problems to keep up with it, his shixiong was there to help. It’s no problem, he said, and I’m your shixiong, I have to make sure you’re doing fine. And so, thanks to Yin Yu and his constant care, Quan Yizhen’s hair was luscious and beautiful.
His shixiong appearance was always in order too, since he was supposed to set an example for the rest of their sect. He always wore clean robes, without the smallest crease or stain; he kept his hair clean, shiny and carefully styled, usually in a simple but tidy bun or a braid. It’s best to style it like that when you’re training, Yizhen! That way it won’t tangle or cause you any problems, especially when you train with weapons. You should try it, it’s so convenient!
The most he was able to convince Quan Yizhen to do with his own hair in terms of styling, was a high ponytail. That was the only way to keep his wild mane relatively contained. It looked really good, even if it was simple, and his soft, dark amber curls spilling around him gave him a wild aura. Yin Yu never got him to try a bun, though. That would make my head hurt, shixiong, and I doubt that would stay in place anyway.
How he never ended up accidentally tangling his curls around his weapons during training was a complete mystery that practically defied logic. Maybe it was true that his hair was an independent, living entity, with his own will, as many of the students said. Because it was that wild and impossible to tame!
When Yin Yu ascended, of course he took Quan Yizhen to the Heavenly Court with him.
And all Quan Yizhen could think about in that moment, was how his shixiong looked even more elegant than he did before, his long hair now tied in a high ponytail, held together with a silver guan, or carefully braided over his shoulder, tied with an embroidered ribbon. He looked perfect, composed, divine.
Quan Yizhen was more entranced by him than ever before. He was going to do his best to be a good Deputy Official!
They still kept their little routine of taking care of Quan Yizhen’s hair. It’s important that you take even better care of your appearance now, Yizhen. You’re my Deputy now, and so you represent my Palace wherever you go.
And of course he tried his best! He did not want to embarrass his god!
Their arrangement changed when Quan Yizhen ascended as a god.
For some reason, in between the time Yin Yu brought him to Heaven with him and the moment he had ascended on his own merits, something had changed.
His shixiong was not that helpful anymore, and seemed to be avoiding him? Like he expected him to do well on his own from now on, but never actually said so. It was so confusing!
Well, that, or his shixiong was mad with him, or didn’t want to talk to him anymore.
Did he do something to offend him? Did he do something wrong?
But no matter how much he thought about it, Quan Yizhen couldn't find the answer.
Everyone was leaving him alone, now that he was a god, letting him do whatever he wanted. No one bothered him about his appearance, or propriety, or manners anymore. Even the ones that were constantly scolding him or harassing him for whatever reasons they could find, were now acting like they always knew he would ascend, endlessly offering praises and spewing all kinds of insincere shit.
He didn’t care about that at all, but he missed his shixiong and how he always cared about him and reminded him of the importance of taking care of himself. Because Yin Yu had always cared about him, about his well-being, right from the start.
Now, taking care of his hair and his personal appearance didn’t feel as significant and relaxing as it did before.
It was just another chore he couldn’t care less about.
Why don’t you deputize someone else to help you, Yizhen?
Because he didn’t want just anyone else to help. He wanted his shixiong’s help!
But the abyss between them kept growing and growing, getting deeper with each passing day, until they both fell off that cliff: Yin Yu got banished from the Heavenly Realm, and Quan Yizhen was stranded up there alone, feeling like his very soul disappeared together with his shixiong.
After Yin Yu’s banishment, Quan Yizhen definitely just stopped giving a fuck about himself, or his hair, or his general appearance, or his attitude, or his manners. He had no energy to care, no reason to care anymore. His fellow gods could say whatever they wanted about him, it didn’t matter. Not even his worshipers opinion mattered.
His hair got too matted? Then it meant that (once again) it was time to cut it with whatever sharp thing he could find in the next five minutes (usually, a sword).
He was back from a mission, covered in grime and blood? He took a bath, if he had enough energy, cleaning himself with whatever soap he had, if he did not forget to buy some.
Most times, he just cleaned himself in a river and called it a day, without even bothering to ascend to his Palace.
If he forgot to brush his hair, who cared. It was a nuisance. It was painful. Even when he tried, it never behaved, so why even try?!
All that hassle just brought him pain.
It was a reminder that his shixiong was not there.
It was just another proof that he couldn’t do anything right, that he was a failure, that he disappointed the only person that ever gave a shit about him.
A person that he kept looking for, and couldn’t find.
A person that he kept looking for, even when everyone says that he shouldn’t, that Yin Yu didn’t want Quan Yizhen to find him. That Quan Yizhen was wasting his time.
A person who, even if Quan Yizhen found him, he was not sure would want to talk to him at all.
And what could Quan Yizhen actually say, if he ever found him again?
…He still kept looking for him anyway, even if he had no idea of how to fix all the things that went wrong between them. It was the only thing that had kept him going all those years.
Yin Yu had thought about it, too, across the many years he had spent in banishment.
About why he kept running. About all the things he lost. Was there a way for him to recover even a tenth of his old life? Was there a chance for him to atone?
Sometimes, he even wondered if Yizhen was taking care of himself, and then he chastised himself for even worrying about it. It was not his place anymore.
And... that hurt. A lot.
How could he ask himself something like that, after almost killing Yizhen, no, worse, after almost making him kill himself? How much of an hypocrite could he be?!
What a joke he was now.
But even as a joke, he still tried to keep his dignity. He kept his uniform immaculate, his mask polished, his hair clean, brushed, loosely braided or tied over his shoulder, everything in order, as the authority of being the Xiaxian Yue Shi of Ghost City required.
No matter how low he had fallen, he would keep his head high, he would not let anyone trample over himself anymore.
His position in Ghost City was not something he ever thought he would be doing, but he couldn’t deny it gave him a modicum of peace, and he knew that being the right hand man of the most powerful Ghost King was no small feat, either.
So he did his best to be useful, to be deserving of the trust and respect the citizens gave him, and embraced his new identity and found a speck of solace in it, while still mourning his past.
He really did his best, as he always did, even if it was never enough.
It had never been enough.
That was all he could think of, when death finally came for him.
Ah, at least he died doing something to repay his past sins. Even if his death itself was meaningless, his last act was not.
And when he came back (when he was brought back), and he saw Quan Yizhen in front of him, hair a tangled mess, but eyes so bright and full of life as the first time he saw him, for a second it felt as if they had gone back in time.
But no, they were not back at their sect, and Quan Yizhen was still a god, and Yin Yu still had died, and was now a ghost, and all the horrible things that happened to them, had really happened to them, and still Yizhen was there, looking at him as if Yin Yu had hung the stars in the sky, as if he had never ever hurt him, as if Quan Yizhen was still the same small shidi, back at a time when their troubles and worries were so different, so small, so trivial.
They did not go back in time, but they might have another chance.
He had a new chance.
So he patted his former shidi’s head, and Yizhen tackled him, eager to find his solid presence again, after such a prolonged absence, and he didn’t say it aloud, but still found enormous relief in noticing that his shixiong’s hair was still long, soft and silky, dark as spilled ink, the same beautiful sight it ever was. His shixiong’s form was detailed and perfect, true to his mortal body.
Quan Yizhen had no idea if Yin Yu was making a conscious effort to keep his form or not, but he was glad to see that his shixiong, even after death, was still as powerful, beautiful and glorious as he remembered him to be.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽☀︎☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Their wedding was a small, private affair. Something just for them, away from any prying eyes, away from judgments and questions. But they still took their time to prepare, and dressed themselves properly to carry out every rite and honor the occasion.
Yin Yu helped Quan Yizhen prepare, including doing his hair, braiding it carefully in a complicated design, hidden by the black gauze hat he would be wearing.
“You look so handsome, A-Zhen.”
Yin Yu would be lying if he said that he ever thought they’d end up like this, but that did nothing to diminish how deeply in love he was with Yizhen, and how much seeing him donning his exquisite red bridal robes was affecting him. He really did look handsome.
“Only because my A-Yu is helping me with this. If I tried to do it myself, I’ll just make a mess” Quan Yizhen said, and softly kissed his soon-to-be husband hands. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”
Yin Yu took care of his own hair, with a bit of Quan Yizhen’s help, who brushed it and oiled it, marveling at how silky and soft it was to the touch. Then, Yin Yu put it in an elaborate braided bun, adorned by an even more elaborate and ornate phoenix crown. He had decided to take the role of the “bride”, because he actually liked wearing something this beautiful, and didn’t care about looking “unmanly”.
They both wore veils, just because Quan Yizhen said that it would be fun to do that. After all, this was just for them. Who cared about what other people would think? Certainly not Yin Yu. Not anymore.
They had lost everything once, because other people’s words affected him so much that he had let them dictate how he was living his life.
That was not something he was ever going to allow to happen again.
And now, seeing how a lock of his own black, straight hair and one of Yizhen’s dark amber curls were bundled together, to be safely tucked inside a pouch hanging from his waist, it felt like the most precious confirmation that their lives (or afterlives?) were forever bound, just like those strands of hair.