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The scent was unfamiliar even this close. Especially this close to Shi Qingxuan’s hazy senses.
The sharp spike of pine and juniper assaulted his nose every time he tilted his head up to laugh, cloying and stale after this many hours. He couldn’t tell with any specific clarity when the older Shi had vacated the place of honor at the main table, despite bidding a fond, if clipped excuse to his distracted ears. A warm body had taken the liberty of occupying his place, and was getting cumbersomely intimate with Shi Qingxuan’s shoulder.
Shi Qingxuan brushed his hair back, head looking around casually for any glimpse of his brother. At this many hours into the feast, the main hall of the Palace of Water and Wind boasted fewer guests now, even if it looked no less magnificent than it did upon greeting its guests at the start of the evening. Shi Wudu had poured his unfettered coffers into honoring the dearest occasion to his heart every year, as if to compensate for every milestone worthy of celebration–carefully guarded and hushed–back in Shi Qingxuan’s mortal life. The first morning of Hanlu had yet to peek past the horizon, the night sky illuminated by the waning sparks of fireworks every few idle moments.
Fireworks. That was where almost everyone else was. Shi Wudu wouldn’t abandon him for the lavish display, not when it wasn’t even the first round of the evening. And yet he had obviously found distraction elsewhere while a clingy, perfume soaked hanger-on had usurped his seat.
‘Ge, this is your fault!!’ the unkind thought came to him as swiftly as the lightheadedness of a drink hitting too soon, lingering unpleasantly as the knot of a once-familiar feeling tightened in his chest. The hall with its sparse guests, dispersed to the more open spaces of the palace, felt overwhelmingly stifling. It is about now that guests would either cluster together in smaller groups and wander away, most were loathe to leave without their pockets sufficiently weighed down. Or without a good story.
Shi Qingxuan wasn’t the orator at this part of the night, the smaller, more consistent collection of heavenly officials who dutifully obliged his every function doing the entertaining for once. The youthful elemental master wasn’t under the illusion his charms alone were sufficient to buy their steadfast attentiveness. It felt good to have them there, all the same. Their laughter made the knot in his chest unravel into slackened contentment.
The wine had yet to work its way into easing the rest of Shi Qingxuan’s misgivings. Despite Shi Wudu’s grandest efforts, the feasts commemorating the occasion of Shi Qingxuan’s ascension were starting to bleed into one another two steady hundred years after the day, and then some. For that matter, not even the festivities could keep his dearest around this late into the night.
Or he might have headed to the source itself–the palace kitchens–for easier access to dishes and none of the noise.
Yanked back from that thought by an arm around his waist, Shi Qingxuan squirmed uncomfortably, the uncertain titters and encouraging chuckles across from him belying an audience both scandalized and intrigued beyond propriety. But he wasn’t his brother, and his indignation would be loud, but toothless. It earned the hopeful suitor a jab to the chest all the same.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me!” a pitch louder than he needed to be, “I have guests in the gardens to check on!”
For all the copious amount consumed throughout the evening, Shi Qingxuan is bafflingly light on his feet, making his exit away from the main table in a flurry of robes that had long since lost their pristine shape and crispy collars. His body buzzing with warmth even with the expanse of shoulders and collarbones exposed to the cool air, when they certainly weren’t before. The hair at the crown of his head had flattened somewhat, the tresses pinned to the side loosening into lazy curls. He’d wanted to look like Ge, for once. Gravity and nature had other ideas, it seemed.
A burst of stars startled him, when it shouldn’t have. The Palace was never truly dark at any hour of the day nor night, but the dim, candle lit corridor was obliterated by an otherworldly glow, blue fires slashing across the sky before snowing down in tufts of winking lights. Shi Wudu had gone all out for the two hundredth year, it seemed.
It was beautiful.
And distracting enough from the lump of darkness at the slope of the arched balcony. Every explosion illuminated a swash of silver before dimming once more. It took only two sparks for Shi Qingxuan to perk up and spring after his target, the wine cup grasped firmly in one hand.
“There you are!” and it was, true to his word, the man clad in the very robes Shi Qingxuan had painstakingly picked months before. The careful selection of every layer and piece that went with it paled to the weeks of wearing Ming Yi down enough to accept the garments. And here he was, not a wrinkle in sight. Except for the one between his brows.
“I was wondering where you’ve disappeared to,” Shi Qingxuan’s breath caught in his throat, a thread pulled in a too smooth banter that made his voice hitch. If Ming Yi had noticed, he showed none of his concern. A small bun Shi Qingxuan hadn’t even noticed until then disappeared swiftly into his mouth in response.
Ah, the kitchens.
“I could have had the food brought to you, you know,” a pang of annoyance Shi Qingxuan didn’t recognize tugged at his nerves before swallowing it down. Perhaps he should have gotten up to follow his friend the moment Ming Yi started wandering away. It was the one night in the year he wouldn’t have to beg the Earth Master for company.
“You looked like you were having fun,” Ming Yi wiped the oily residue off his fingers on the inside of his wrists, avoiding leaving any incriminating stains on the expensive fabric, “did you even notice me leaving?”
“Of course I did!” an indignant laugh mellowing in a complacent grin. It was usually enough to win Ming Yi over on a full stomach, disarming him from whatever prickly mood he was in this time.
Ming Yi’s features barely shifted, as cool as the marble arch he skulked against. Shi Qingxuan closed the distance between them with ease, filling the stiff space Ming Yi’s narrow frame left unoccupied.
“And what good timing; this is the best display of the night, and what a good spot to view it from! Ge always leaves the best for last.” and he was probably terrorizing whoever was in charge of this. The thought that would have normally made Shi Qingxuan wince made him giddy now, instead.
One hand splayed on the cool, wide railing, Shi Qingxuan kept a firm hold on the cup with the other, an extension of himself. To his credit, Ming Yi wasn’t wandering off this time. He could feel the swish of silk behind him, the fabric heavier and softer than what the Earth Master was used to wearing.
“You stink,”
Shi Qingxuan’s heart skipped a beat, painfully, the eyes taking in the night sky widening in turn. His shoulders stiffened as Ming Yi swept his hair aside, sighing with displeasure, before he caught himself.
“Your little clowns must be missing you,” he could feel Ming Yi leaning on the railing in turn, Shi Qingxuan’s tall body bracketed by his own. A swash of light blossomed across the sky, unveiling the column of Shi Qingxuan’s neck and shoulder blades. His eyes stared forward, unseeing, head barely moving as he struggled not to tilt it up and back.
“Rude words from you when you’ve come empty handed this year!” taunting words meant to shock Ming Yi back into a more recognizable sourness. Icy fingers ghosted over his bare skin in response, making Qingxuan jump despite himself. They traced a trajectory unseen to his eyes, pressing down on the nape of his neck.
“And this is what they’ve given you?”
The silk of Ming Yi’s hair tickled his skin as he dipped his head, thin, dry lips finding the offensive spot and smudging it to life.
“There,” Ming Yi pulled back, voice curt and rough, “Your present.”
Shi Qingxuan’s hand trembled on its way to grasp at the nearest lapel and pull his robes up. He’d done his best to relegate the memory of being pulled into a lap to the back of his mind, and his hand seemed to miss over and over again. Perhaps it was the hour of the night, the liquor settling pleasantly in his veins, and the slow blinking realization of something unreadable in Ming Yi’s tone.
“I barely felt that,” he said evenly, bravely, head tilted up fully at last as he turned around in Ming Yi’s space. The latter’s arm fell limply away. “That’s a sorry excuse for a present, Ming-xiong. My best friend would do better.”
He wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth. A nervous, soundless laughter tumbled out in their wake, instead, willing Ming Yi to do anything other than stare at him, as if he were seeing Shi Qingxuan for the first time.
“You are a sorry excuse for a host,” Ming Yi quipped, frown deepening as he reached down to tug up an unruly collar, “What’d you need me to fawn on you, for? You see me every day.”
His hand faltered as the heavy fabric had other ideas, shifting back under its weight once more. The wide sleeves wrinkled over Shi Qingxuan’s forearm, gathered hastily at the wrist by Ming Yi as he attempted to bring a semblance of order and propriety back to their situation. His hand lingered on the back of Shi Qingxuan’s wrist, trembling underneath the silk for a moment before long fingers slotted themselves between Shi Qingxuan’s, fingertips pressing against his knuckles.
Shi Qingxuan’s hazy eyes, ever focused on the fingers that have now become his own, saw nothing else until they saw nothing at all. Ming Yi’s lips were uncharacteristically sticky–not that he had a frame of reference for that–and unfairly good at kissing. The thought brought a flush of indignation to Shi Qingxuan’s cheeks, and certainly nothing more! The robes that had fought halfheartedly to almost stay put lost their battle with gravity, sliding down with every tug on Shi Qingxuan’s bottom lip.
How could he–And without a warning? And how dare he slip a daring tongue past his teeth as if Ming Yi had done nothing but study the planes of his mouth? It tingled with the strong spice from his latest snack, and the flush in Shi Qingxuan’s face deepened.
The wine spilled from his cup in a thin, silvery arch, the splash lost to the sound of fireworks booming in the night sky.
Shi Qingxuan’s lips tingled as he pulled back, eyes blinking rapidly and alighting on Ming Yi, quick to scan for regrets and dread before the Wind Master rose on his toes. His own kiss was no less fervent, if decisive, locking Ming Yi in place before he thought to change his mind and apologize. The man had hardly spoken a word to anyone else all evening, and now he had this all to himself? The realization made Shi Qingxuan giddy with elation, and something else.
Oh, Ming-xiong better not pull away!
Ming Yi’s thin lips barely left his skin even as he pulled him close, kissing a line along the corner of his mouth and down his jaw. An icy hand pressed against his exposed nape, right between his shoulder blades–And Shi Qingxuan whimpered. It was enough for Ming Yi to pull away with an indescribable look of guilt, sparks of light bringing a touch of rose to his pale skin.
“Don’t,” the cup clattered onto the hem of Shi Qingxuan’s robes with a muted thud, his hand curling in the inky hair pulled taut at the back of Ming Yi’s neck.
“You still owe me the rest of my present.” a languid, ambitious smile stretched around Shi Qingxuan’s words.
Ming Yi’s words were swallowed by the crackling that took the sky beyond them by a storm of light. Shi Qingxuan could read them, all the same, whispered against the knuckles of their joined hands.