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“Oi, lad. Come over here for a second, will ya?”
Hong Lu pauses for a second, looking over at the man behind him before nodding slightly to Daiyu beside him, who carries on towards the pavilion where all the other sinners are drinking and talking amongst each other. Shite—now he feels a little guilty that she’ll have to interact with the others on her own without someone familiar to introduce or cover for her, but it’ll just have to wait, he supposes.
“What is it, Heathcliff?”
Despite having taken the initiative to call the other over in the first place, Heathcliff suddenly finds himself at a loss for words, kicking at the pebbles on the ground as he scratches at his neck awkwardly.
Over the past couple days at Daguanyuan, there’s been this uncomfortable feeling gnawing away at his head, much like the Anamnaworm he’d seen inside the Family Hierarch’s ear, and he’s had a growing suspicion as to what it’s about, yet remained reluctant about confronting it; at least not until things died down. There were more important things at stake here than his feelies.
But now, everything’s over, right…? The retrieval of the Golden Bough was successful, the seat of the Family Hierarch was now occupied by Jia Xichun, and they’re even celebrating their victory together by the lake with lavish wine and a feast that would keep Rodya satiated for weeks. Which means that now is the time for Heathcliff to get these nagging thoughts out of his head, before it’s too late.
He clears his throat, unsure where to start. Hong Lu stands patiently before him, serene smile unwavering as ever, though now he smiles without that familiar weight on his shoulders, which puts Heathcliff a little more at ease.
“So, uh… I dunno if it’s ‘right to ask, or somethin’, but… Uh, what’s the deal with you and that other lass bein’ engaged?”
It comes off even more strangely than it had sounded in his head; like he was a gossiping little brat trying to dig up information on someone’s crush. Hong Lu seems to pay it no matter, though, humming lightly. “Oh, you mean big sis Baochai? Well, it’s just as you said. She is my betrothed, as I am hers.”
“Wha—“ Heathcliff grips the handle of his bat tightly. “How can you be so nonchalant about it?! Ain’t that a big deal?”
“Hm, I suppose so.” Hong Lu doesn’t elaborate any further, which pisses him off even more.
“Right, I just don’t understand— is this some rich folk thing or somethin’? You shoulda said something to the rest of us! Have you even spoken to her since the banquet?”
“No, I don’t think so. Oh, but Daiyu made sure to report back about the situation after she had to return to the Xue household, and despite mostly everything being in total chaos over there, she mentioned that big sis Baochai was relatively unharmed, so that’s a relief!”
Heathcliff scoffs loudly, feeling the familiar prickle of rage crawling up the back of his neck. Perhaps it was the unconcerned attitude that Hong Lu carried towards what he’d thought would have been a great matter of importance to him (this is his future wife they’re talking about here!), but somehow, he still can’t shake this feeling of unrest at this conversation they’re having.
“Lad, you don’t get it, do you?” Heathcliff brings his fist down on the bridge’s railing, startling the birds perched on top of it away. “I mean, this is your goddamn spouse we’re talkin’ about, and you couldn’t even be bothered to check up on her yourself? So much for being the love of your…”
He trails off, watching Hong Lu carefully. There was a distant, forlorn look in his jade eye, as if his gaze had glazed over sometime during their conversation, and his smile had disappeared, to be replaced by an expression that he can’t quite place.
“…You don’t love her, do you?”
Hong Lu leans against the railing beside Heathcliff, closing his eyes as a light breeze picks up in his hair and gently lets it fan out behind him. In the process, a few stray blossom petals find themselves entrapped within that web of strands, though the man pays them no mind.
After a short pause, the other speaks. “No, I don’t think I do.”
Heathcliff wants to speak, to ask why, then why would he let himself be wed to her, why would he refuse her affections when clearly she sees him as the most precious thing in the world, why would he deny himself the simplest thing in life; when Hong Lu continues.
“I don’t think I quite know what love is, really. You saw it for yourself, didn’t you? How I was treated growing up. Oh, although for some parts of it, you may have thought me lucky, to be surrounded by such riches and wealth and revered by so many, for being their precious— jade.”
He doesn’t miss the way his voice had almost trembled at the term.
“Ah, now you know what it all entails, I do hope that you don’t feel the same way. Because to me, it was the one thing that kept me from being able to experience that very love that I wanted so desperately to understand… not some facade of it that’s been shown to me just because I serve a purpose. A means to an end, or such.”
Hong Lu turns to glance at him momentarily, a blossom petal resting on his bangs, and for a second, Heathcliff has the urge to reach out and pluck it off his head. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest grips at him harder.
“I know that big sis Baochai has always loved me very much. It’s because of how much she cares for me, that I was willing to promise her what she desired, after my time with the company ends. If I could make her happy, then I could be happy with myself, at the very least.” Hong Lu shuts his eyes, tilting his head up to the sky.
“Do you think I’ll be happy, Heathcliff?”
The mention of his name jolts him back to the conversation, and he scrambles to answer without looking like an idiot, his shoulders tensing as he straightens up.
“Huh? Dunno… You’ve probably got some strange definition of happiness too, don’tcha?” He clears his throat, before continuing. “…We’re all kinda fucked in the head, so I guess that’s out of the question anyway. Happy endings are few and far in a world like this.”
Glancing over, Heathcliff thinks back to that stormy night at Wuthering Heights, which had definitely not been a happy ending, to say the least. He’ll still carry that weight by himself for the rest of eternity alongside her memory, but that’s alright. Things have changed, and he’s no longer that same scruffy lad with the world against him.
“That ain’t saying you can’t still pull it off, though. I reckon your place is about to see a whole lotta change, with that little lass in charge.” He grins slightly at the thought of Jia Xichun, in all her five foot glory, barking orders at elders four times her senior. “You did a right job looking after her as you did, that one.”
“Really?” The other’s eyes remain closed, but he can almost hear the twinkle in them at the mention of his sibling, and he nods, despite Hong Lu not seeing him do it.
“I don’t think she hates you, mate. It was probably a bit rough for her to understand without knowing what happened, being a wee baby then, but she’s not the same little brat from then. Give her time to come around, yeah?”
At the lack of response from the other man, Heathcliff hastily adds, “but what do I know, right? I ain’t got any siblings of my own, so…”
“No, no, you’re right.” Hong Lu is staring at him now, with a new expression that he’s never seen on him before, akin to relief and perhaps even respect. “People change with the seasons, don’t they, Heathcliff?” He’s unsure what to reply to that with, so he grunts in agreement, quickly looking away. Hong Lu appears as if he wants to say something, but instead laughs gently, until a loud commotion catches their attention.
Over at the pavilion, Sinclair seems to have thrown his fork at Ishmael, who remains unbothered as it sticks out from her bushy hair, as he yells something unintelligible across the table at her. Hong Lu chuckles lightly, before turning back to Heathcliff.
“I suppose we should return shortly, hm? Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
”…”
Throughout their exchange, a lump had been forming in Heathcliff’s throat, something he was unsure if he should ask at all, fearing whatever the answer might be. Yet, it slips from his tongue regardless, as if breaking down his defenses in a last ditch attempt to be heard.
“Do… D’ya think it’s possible to forget what love is in the first place?”
Hong Lu simply smiles, reaching forward and taking Heathcliff’s hand in his own before he can react. It’s warm, and softer than he’d thought it would be. Not that he’d thought about it before, but he’d imagined posh brats like him to have meticulous, expensive beauty products, right down to some sort of fancy oils for the cuticles. Why had he been thinking about Hong Lu’s skin care routine again? Beats him. All that matters now is that their fingers are interlocked, woven tight, and the lump in Heathcliff’s throat is gone.
“I think,” Hong Lu begins, lips curving in that familiar, kind smile, “that our experiences continue to shape our view of the world, and that nothing is truly forgotten, as it is those very same memories that we live out our days by. Whether it’s about the past—” his gaze flicks over to the looming buildings behind them, “or the future—“ Hong Lu glances over at the others ahead of him, lingering on Daiyu for a second longer, before returning to Heathcliff, his gaze flickering with a feeling that even he’s not quite sure what to place it as. “I believe that you’ll keep it all very, very close to your heart.”
There’s something in Hong Lu’s voice that sounds… melancholy, but not quite in a bad way. It’s as if he had decided to take the first step away from a lingering grief, savouring and acknowledging the remnants of that feeling before letting go. Heathcliff is about to nod and head off, probably to sit with all the new thoughts running through his head, but just then, Hong Lu squeezes his hand once more before letting it fall by his side, and his legs seem to freeze up, his mouth falling open and then closing shortly after as the weird feeling in his chest returns, stronger than ever.
Before he can say or do anything to clear the awkwardness in the air, Hong Lu steps away and towards the party, but turns around once more.
“Heathcliff, you’ve lost something dear to you, haven’t you?”
The words get stuck in his throat before he can even think them in his mind. A rush of emotions boil up within him, and the familiar prickle of sorrow washes over him all over again, as he stares at the other wordlessly.
Hong Lu just smiles, shaking his head ever so slightly before walking off to join the other sinners, leaving Heathcliff to be with his thoughts once more.