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In the courtyard adorned with pear blossom trees, the rain wrote elegies on the windowpane. Lanterns hung like borrowed stars, their light softened by the drizzle, gentle glow mirrored in trembling puddles as if the cobblestone path around the garden, too, longed to glimmer amidst the melancholic tone of the blue hour.
A serene smile graced Xiao Shuhe’s features as he played his zither under the shelter of the eaves, plucking heartfelt melodies that slipped through his fingers almost too naturally, though a stubborn sense of fear clung to his visage. His soul was now freed from the golden shackles of royalty, away from the yellowing pages of history. A lihua branch that bloomed freely, swaying with the spring winds and dancing to nature’s rhythm.
But his heart lingers elsewhere. Would he come?
The image of Duan Zi’ang’s ghostly pale face, his shaking arms clutching onto Shuhe hopelessly with the latter drifting into eternal slumber…
Guttural sobs sounding in the otherwise silent chamber lined with guards…
The distinct metallic scent of fresh blood coughed up by his one and only…
The sweet taste of vengeance alongside the bitterness of poison as the world faded away before his eyes…
These remained as vivid as ever, haunting Shuhe’s newfound liberation. As excruciating as it was to reminisce about the repercussions of his hasty decision, it was something that ultimately had to be done. It came without regret. But now all that awaits him is an endless interlude, rendering him trapped in the liminal space between death and rebirth, unknowing of if or when Zi’ang would arrive.
So much remains unsaid, waiting to be explained. So much remains to be forgiven, waiting to be enveloped in warm tears.
If fate allows.
The last notes of the song faded away into the dusk, with no audience to fill the silence that came after. Inevitable hollowness penetrated the delicate body that was born to be sheltered from the chaos of politics, to compose elegant poetry, to play the zither. Not to experience the harrowing betrayal of his nation and of his love.
Pear blossoms fluttered above the small bridge,
petals falling from the branches they held onto so tenaciously since creation,
surrendering themselves to the stream below.
Xiao Shuhe noted that the petals do not resist the direction of the waterflow; perhaps they have learned what most innately reject— that letting go is the only way forward. Perhaps he, too, should let go.
But just before Shuhe was about to turn to the wooden house to retire for the night, there seemed to be a quiet voice approaching. Or perhaps it was his imagination. Then the voice got louder and clearer, until it was undoubtedly—
“Shuhe… Shuhe!”
Xiao Shuhe faltered at the cheerful voice, which belonged to none other than the very man he was waiting for.
Zi’ang… you’ve finally found me.
Turning towards the familiar silhouette under the pavilion, hot tears began to prickle at the corners of his eyes, merging with the raindrops as he stepped towards him, steps turning into a sprint.
Shuhe opened his mouth to reply, but no words formed, throat dry from disuse. He simply drank in the view of Zi’ang, whose agonisingly handsome face when bathed in the mellow glow of the lanterns only exacerbated the warmth that rose up Shuhe’s neck and cheeks as he blushed at the sight of his lover looking painstakingly gorgeous. Both had come in their wedding attires, the luxurious crimson and gold clothes adorned with filigree accessories reminding them of their passionate night, but simultaneously serving as a delicate reminder of their previous titles. Zi’ang wore his high ponytail freely — not in an emperor’s bun sealed with a guan — just like when they had just reunited, and Shuhe missed this version of Zi’ang more than words could ever express.
A suppressed sob escaped Zi’ang as his fingers gradually found Shuhe’s cheeks, cupping them so delicately as if he were porcelain that would shatter at the slightest contact, a dream too real to be illusory. His thumbs slowly began to wipe away Shuhe’s tears, his own tears unattended and wetting his robes but for all he cares, his lihua is back in his arms at last.
“Shuhe— I’m sorry… please don’t cry anymore,” Zi’ang said in the softest whisper reserved for Shuhe only. Despite his joy, unease still settled in Zi’ang’s chest as he turned his head away, unable to bear seeing his beloved shed precious tears endlessly— what if a part of him still despises me?
“Shuhe, you don’t have to say anything— you don’t need to forgive me after all I did to you in my past life…" Zi'ang's voice was husky and raw with emotion and grief. "Just being able to see you properly for one last time is enough for me."
At this, Shuhe’s eyes flit up in shock. “Zi’ang… don’t you dare say something like that again.” He buried his face in Zi’ang’s chest, arms wrapped so tightly around his back that it left Zi’ang questioning if the strength came from love or from hate. He could only attempt to return the embrace as he felt a patch of clothing grow wet, hands hesitantly finding the small of Shuhe’s back and loosely holding him there. Heavens knew how badly he wanted to clasp onto his lihua and never let him go ever again, apologise properly and make him his until the end of time, but Zi’ang didn’t dare let his imagination and hopes run wild.
Because if his beloved hadn’t let go of his hatred, then he would accept it wholeheartedly— he deserved it.
Xiao Shuhe only loosened his grip when his arms grew tired, gradually pulling away from Zi’ang’s body so he could finally look his lover properly in the eyes. Duan Zi’ang’s eyes had always been hard to read given his upbringing as a skilled martial artist and assassin, however in his dark irises, Shuhe could trace the watery outlines and elusive depth composed with an amalgamation of love, uncertainty and resolution.
Only then did Shuhe realise that he hadn’t made his intention clear.
He sniffled and swallowed before attempting to start with a stable voice, “D-Duan Zi’ang, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. And to restate your words, even— even the king of hell won’t take me away from you.”
Zi’ang could only gape at the weight of these words, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and dawning hope, heart stirred by Shuhe’s sincerity. A familiar warmth returned when supple fingers brushed loose strands from Zi’ang’s face— the touch was light, yet lingering, rekindling something long missed.
“I’m sorry, Zi’ang…” Zi’ang’s heart faltered at Shuhe’s apology— wasn’t he the one who should be begging for forgiveness, not Shuhe? “I’m sorry I deceived you in our final moments… I’m sorry I deceived the strength of our love. But there’s one important thing that you need to remember, always— I have never wished for you to leave me.” He gazed at the watery irises that stared back at him, slightly disoriented, in quiet attention.
Shuhe carded his fingers gently through Zi’ang’s hair to soothe him, which seemed to have some effect as he felt Zi’ang’s body shift and lean slightly into his touch. “Even through the five long years of tension, our love has never left my mind. I’ve always kept a small piece of you, my Duan-xiong, the Zi’ang who would put a pear blossom branch under my chin and stare at me affectionately whilst I poured tea, in the pocket of my heart, cherishing you whenever you drifted across my mind like a cloud that brought both thunderstorms and rainbows.”
Duan Zi’ang’s lips split into a small smile at the fond memories which felt like an eternity ago— before all of that happened, however the quirk of his lips faded as quickly as it came. “But you had to do it. You had to lie lifeless in my arms for the gravity of my sins to truly sink in… I— I had to suffer from the only weapon you had left to use against me— that being our love.”
His breaths grew shallow and raspy from guilt and grief, the sound alone shattering Shuhe’s heart into thousands of fragments that carved into his insides raw.
“You had caged me, Zi’ang.” Shuhe continued, voice pleasant though trembling slightly at the edges, “Rusty did the chains of my royalty become, and anew were the chains you had bound to my feet and soul.” His fingers curled slightly at his side, as if clutching onto the weight that was no longer there.
“Only when I tasted the bittersweet poison,” Shuhe went on softly, “did I feel an ounce of liberation from the pages of history and atonement for my sins as a fallen Nanhui emperor, a failed son who let his brother die by the hands of his lover, in the name of protection.” Shuhe’s gaze drifted away wistfully, to the last streaks of dusk dissolving into the horizon where fate may perhaps provide an answer.
Zi’ang’s chest tightened painfully in repentance as each word pressed harder, not as an accusation, but as a truth offered without mercy. He tried to speak, but his throat closed around the attempt, hands trembling at his sides.
“But the final reason why I chose this ending— was that I couldn’t bear to see you pass before me. Since we already intertwined our fates during our wedding,” he paused to recover his emotions before continuing resolutely, eyes refocusing on Zi’ang, “I wanted you to chase me. Shed your heavy robes of sin, guilt and royalty, and I would await you here. Always, forever.”
A gust of warm wind that signaled the cessation of rain threaded through Xiao Shuhe’s hair, rustling it just enough to soften his features. His lashes lowered in coyness, as if surprised at his own boldness, then he looked up again, expression easing into a smile— a calm warmth.
Zi’ang was shaking uncontrollably now, breath shuddering and eyes averting Shuhe’s as the truth of their mutual devotion sank in, twisted may his own methods be.
All that time, I thought I was protecting you.
All that time, I was only teaching you how to endure me.
You were safe, but not free. And yet, you—
“Duan Zi’ang,” Shuhe leaned in to fully envelop his lover in a reassuring hug and whisper next to the shell of his ear, which was still reddened with shame, “love and hate waxes and wanes. But I’ve never stopped missing you, unwilling to forget you…”
“Through love and hate, I will always accompany you.”
At this, Zi’ang’s broken sobs grew louder— he wondered if Shuhe could feel just how hard his heart was pounding against his ribcage, threatening to burst out. Shuhe only crooned and kissed the corners of his eyes where the pearls fell, soft hands intertwining with fingers calloused from years of training.
Shuhe clasped his cold hands with a care that barely disturbed the air around them— warm, welcoming, as though he was making an offer for Zi’ang to accept his forgiveness and overcome self hatred. Zi’ang’s heart melted from fondness, and with that, the strength in his knees crumbled too. Gazing up at Shuhe, he carved the image into the depths of his mind— strands of his hair fell forward in long silken locks framing his face perfectly, whilst the faint glimmer of his forehead necklace caught the lantern light, turning him into something ethereal.
Zi’ang kneeled before him, vulnerable in his stillness, palms loosely fitted together seeking Shuhe’s warmth, as if in a position of supplication and worship.
“I— I was blinded by you. The kindhearted sixth prince of Nanhui who could compose the most graceful of poetry, pluck harmonious melodies with the skilful flick of his fingers—“
“—and I was blinded by you, the you who captured my heart with your flawless sword dance, who swore to protect me even across mountains and rivers—“ Shuhe lowered himself to cup his cheeks gingerly, more teardrops spilling at the pain in Zi’ang’s voice.
“—that my love turned into obsession and obsession turned into madness and madness turned into the murder of your spirit…” Zi’ang remorsefully gazed at Shuhe, who had fallen pear blossom petals scattered on his hair, rendering his countenance ever so sweet that Zi’ang’s heart ached at his beauty. How could I bear to kill his livelihood?
“…Back then, I had lost everything, except you— you were the only light in my life left, and I had kept you so close that I ironically extinguished it out of fear of it vanishing. I was wrong, Shuhe… wrong would be an understatement. How can I ever heal you from the daggers that I stabbed into your chest thinking that those actions were done out of love? My hands are stained beyond saving—“ Zi’ang had to stop himself before he came apart further, all the words that he had kept piled in his chest gushing out like a dam upon spring thaw.
Shuhe, it hurts. It hurts so much…
“You were mad, that is a fact without doubt. But Zi’ang— my Duan-xiong,” Shuhe delicately pressed his forehead together with Zi’ang’s, “my heart kept yearning for you. The life of my brother and the countless lives of my people were like an incision in my flesh, yet I couldn’t stop getting close to you…” Despite it hurting more the closer I held you.
“So much so that I could only thrust a knife into your back to allow myself to live on— until the hatred hurt too much, until your condition arose, and only then did I hastily drink my poison and hope I have granted us an eternity of peace.”
There’s a muffled noise and suddenly Zi’ang’s lips ghosted over Shuhe’s, as if caught in a moment of spontaneity that was stopped in abrupt hesitation.
Shuhe noticed and chuckled softly, “This youth before me carries spring with him. Be it flying up to the highest heavens or falling a thousand feet, he would brave it for me… So I plead with you now, Zi’ang— let’s do it again, one more time.”
“Once again, in a pear blossom courtyard, I’d be playing the zither whilst you practiced swordplay.”
This time, it was Shuhe who finally closed the remaining distance between them. Zi’ang couldn’t help but smile and sigh into the kiss, having missed the sensation more than words than express despite it having not been that long since it last happened. He melted into it, letting his heart become drunk from the warmth that was Xiao Shuhe’s plush lips. Shuhe kissed with fulfilled yearning and Zi’ang kissed back with honeyed desire, held back only by gentleness— pure want softened by the fear of breaking what he’d waited so long to have.
Once their lips eventually parted for air, Zi’ang felt like something knotted deep inside his chest loosened, a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding for months.
Foreheads still connected in a moment of intimacy, he murmured softly only for the other to hear, “I promise you, Shuhe, that I will be loving you earnestly, openly, from now on… Duan Zi’ang’s love for Xiao Shuhe will be free.”
He gazed up to the heavens in gratitude— by now, the night sky had settled in, some rainclouds parted to give way to the universe that lay beyond them, sky littered with millions of stars.
“Thousands of miles of stars, the whole sky couldn’t compare to you.”
Shuhe looked down coquettishly, taken aback at his sudden confession. “So romantic of you, Zi’ang-gege,” he teased lightly, which to his great delight brought about an impressive reaction from Zi’ang. His face grew almost as red as the lanterns at the familiar and strangely intimate nickname, earning pleased giggles from Shuhe that Zi’ang efficiently swallowed with his lips.
A tiny moan escaped Shuhe’s mouth, sending shivers down Zi’ang’s spine, coaxing him to kiss harder, until his beloved practically dissolved into his arms. A hand slowly found its way to the back of Shuhe’s head, fingers grazing his nape tenderly, the two completely forgetting any residual grievances and worries as they lost themselves in the welcoming intimacy of their reunion.
"Shuhe, you have no idea what you do to me..." Zi'ang mumbled, voice low against Shuhe's lips in a moment of repose, to which the latter replied with a quiet chuckle and teasing nibble of his lower lip. An experimental tongue cheekily slipped between Shuhe's lips which parted widely in submission, willing to be hungrily devoured over and over again.
As they slowly pulled away, Shuhe cast an inquisitive glance, coyness dripping from his smile.
"Hm? Does my Shuhe require anything from me? Whatever my lihua desires, he shall get..."
His heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment. “Zi'ang-gege, can I see you do your sword dance again?”
Zi’ang did not need to be told twice, grinning with newfound enthusiasm to please his precious lihua. His sword caught light as it sliced cleanly through the air, steps precise yet unforced as though the evening winds guided his every move. Each swing of the blade flowed into the next— like silk dancing through air— steel tracing obscure patterns, gleaming, vanishing, pausing, resuming. All the while, pear blossoms drifted down like spring snow covering the courtyard in a gentle white glow, softness settling everywhere the blade did not; fragile blossoms coexisting with harsh steel as if in perfect equilibrium.
A pair of glistening eyes watched in silent awe. He sat cross-legged with his elbow braced on his lap, head leaning against his hand in quiet ease as he drank in the sight across from him as the other moved in practiced, deliberate grace. The corners of his mouth curved into a quiet smile, heart unmistakably present and content to remain there, silently cherishing the benediction of Zi’ang’s presence.
He had gazed for a few moments too long before he realised he had completely forgone the other half of his wish.
Slowly, he positioned himself next to his zither and the first note sounded from a touch so light it barely disturbed the air. More harmonies unfolded in measured accompaniment to the blade’s every movement, undulating chords supporting the rhythm that guided Zi’ang without ever overpowering it. Music scattered cleanly into the air, each note ringing out before dissolving into the next— an unnamed melody arose gently around them, delicately in balance shimmering between beauty and chivalrous protection.
As the sword dance and mellifluous melody gradually came to a stop, the world seemed to pause around them, save for the pear blossoms ever so quietly snowing down upon the courtyard.
“…Zi’ang.” A small trembling voice gently reached his lover.
“I’m here, Shuhe,” came the untroubled reply, though a frown quickly followed as Zi’ang realised something was wrong. “Sh-Shuhe, are you crying again?”
A moment of silence.
“...I’m fine. I’m fine, Zi’ang, I really am.” Shuhe glanced up at him softly with a smile, “Can I just… hold you for a moment?”
“Need to make sure you’re real,” he added jokingly to lighten the mood.
Zi’ang froze briefly, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of his lihua dressed in ornate wedding robes with his zither, glassy eyes gazing at him rendering his figure so… small, so painfully beautiful.
“Oh… Shuhe— of course,” he ran to wrap his beloved in his arms, tightly holding onto him. “Never letting you go again,” he pressed a gentle yet lingering kiss to his forehead, to each of his eyelids, then to his nose, trailing down until he reached his lips once more.
“I thought— For a moment, I had really thought I’d never see you again, you know…” Shuhe allowed himself the greed of indulging in what their humanity had to offer, shamelessly soaking up the warmth that blossomed wherever Zi’ang had kissed.
I was so scared... Scared that when I closed my eyes, it was the end. That there was no promised after.
“...But you did come— and now you’re here, with me—” Shuhe gingerly pressed his lips to Zi’ang’s cheek, a wide grin breaking free, unguarded. He gazed into the dark pupils he adored so much and in Duan Zi’ang’s steady eyes overwhelmed with love, he found peace at last.
“My Duan-xiong… My husband.”
The sheer affection with which Shuhe whispered the last bit had Zi’ang’s heart unravelled completely. He leaned forward and parted Shuhe’s hair slightly, soft lips finding the crescent moon shaped birthmark at the back of his neck that had been shielded from the world, only for Zi’ang to claim.
“Welcome home, lihua,” he murmured against his nape, a gentle kiss finally sealing their love for an eternity to come.