Work Text:
When Fan Wujiu arrived, Huai'en lay motionless on blood-soaked ground.
Hurrying towards him, screaming his name, the man ripped a piece of his own torn clothing, ready to try to stop the bleeding – but as soon as he saw the injuries, he knew that any attempts to save a life would be futile.
With a trembling hand, he applied strong pressure to the gushing artery.
He had maybe a few minutes to comfort the boy.
‘Huai'en! Huai'en… don't worry. Uncle Fan is here. Your Lao Fan is here.’
He lied down by his side and embraced him tightly.
A pair of sharp black eyes looked at him, and they seemed darker than ever.
Those eyes have been watching him relentlessly ever since the boy’s childhood. He knew this gaze – he remembered the way young Xie Bi'an observed him; the way he looked at His Highness, that devotion and certainty.
The child of passionate love had a soul made of flame.
Although for years he refused to accept the fact, hoping that the boy would grow out of it, he had realised that this flame had been burning just for him.
For some, love is about being swept away by a feeling.
For some, it is making a choice, and persisting.
Fan Wujiu decided to never break Huai'en's heart.
The boy who waited for him – whose heart squirmed, waiting to grow up and take care of him already – was about to die without ever tasting love.
Fan Wujiu pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips, his cheeks, his strong brow bones, his lips again, whispering his name while Huai'en was still conscious.
‘My child… You’ll be alright. Others are coming to help. Just hold on a little longer…’
He looked into those eyes until the spark within them vanished.
Once he heard the fast, exhausted heartbeat cease, Fan Wujiu shook and wailed in sorrow.
Nobody who found them was able to pull him away from the cold, dead body as he screamed and clutched onto it, like a crazed animal ready to bite anyone who came near.
There is no pain greater than losing a child.
In this time of sadness – Fan Wujiu thought – the focus should not be his grief.
He tried to support the family. He sat by Xie Bi'an's side as the man stared blankly at the wall.
He comforted little Shang Heng, and likewise, put on a cheerful face whenever the child came to check on him or play with him.
His Highness understood. If the weight of pain could be compared, it seemed that Fan Wujiu was stricken with something so heavy that it crushed him.
Xie Bi'an understood – he knew that if he ever lost His Highness, the world would lose all its colour, and not even the rest of his family would be enough to anchor his soul.
Practicing sword. Finding tricks to force him to read. The little frown on the forehead of a troubled teen. Deep conversations on the rooftop at night.
His favourite child.
Among his life goals, the most important one had emerged – to guide this restless spirit.
He was not concerned with juvenile attraction; it was only natural for a young boy to have curiosity.
A happy observer, Fan Wujiu spent years basking in light of the love Huai'en's parents had for each other.
When he saw that same light, strong and piercing, directed right at him from Huai'en's bright, certain face – the world crumbled for Fan Wujiu.
It should not have been him. It should not have been a gift for him.
But no matter how much he hoped it would go away, that Huai'en would be released and have a normal life – he knew, deep down, that such a feeling had no end.
So he swore to himself to accept this gift with gratitude. If Huai'en's feelings persist – when it is time, he will open his heart for him.
After all, he adored every fibre of this child's being.
‘Don't look for him’ His Highness said, touching Xie Bi'an's hand.
For weeks, Fan Wujiu's body was there, but his soul was already gone.
Between the teeth of a wooden comb – a gift from years ago – the tangled hair was white.
One day, he had not come back home; at the office, his colleagues did not know where he was.
Perhaps he went along the trail of scenic spots he saw with Huai'en during a summer trip - perhaps he stayed there for a while.
There, among hazy mountains, Fan Wujiu rolled on the hard floor as he dreamt a bad dream:
He had taken his life, and when he arrived in the underworld, he had to negotiate with the spirits.
‘I committed many wrongdoings, but please, let me see the child. I have come here to look after the child.’
But the spirits taunted him: ‘You are not here to look after the child. Selfish man, you are here because you miss the child's love. To be deprived of it is the hell you deserve'.
Another spirit, however, interjected: ‘But the child committed no wrongdoings. He deserves to be happy after death, and the only way to ensure that is to let him be with the one he loves.’
Caught in a chaos of what seemed more and more like a courtroom, Fan Wujiu heard many voices:
‘He has another nephew who misses him at home. This man abandoned his family.’
‘This man is a killer. He grieves for a child, but how many lives did he take?’
‘No, he had noble goals. This was just a path he had to take. Were his circumstances more advantageous, he would not have chosen it. He became an official through his own merit and hard work, and ever since, he had helped many people.’
‘Truly, the child will not find peace if he thinks this man is all alone.’ A spirit argued. ‘And his family? Will they know peace? If after such extreme measures these two are still separated, would it not mean that all of this was truly futile and a waste?’
Frightened, Fan Wujiu looked up. On the grassy hill ahead, he saw a familiar dark silhouette, like a panther always ready to leap forward.
‘What are you doing here? This is not a place where you should be!’ Huai'en exclaimed as he grabbed the man by the sleeve and – taking advantage of the spirits shouting over one another – dragged him away.
Once they noticed the pair run away, the spirits tangled themselves into a squirming knot as some rushed to capture them, while others tried to restrain the unkind ghosts.
Panting and laughing through tears, the two collapsed into the grass.
‘My child, my sweet boy. I found you, you found me. Where have you been staying, what have you been eating?’ Fan Wujiu cupped the youth's face just as he did in that final moment - except now, everything was warmth.
‘The weather is always nice here, so I have just been sleeping under a tree. I do not feel hungry, but as I walk around, I find many fruits.’
Fan Wujiu reached towards a shape he noticed in the grass beside them. He felt a familiar feel of the skin of a pear.
‘There are so many places I have been to that I need to show you’ Huai'en exclaimed as his eyes glistened with light.
Everything was warmth.
When Fan Wujiu woke up, he felt at peace.
He walked towards the edge and let the cool morning fog envelop him as he fell, never to be found.
At home that day, Xie Bi'an felt a strange sensation.
‘Papa, when is Uncle going to come back?’
‘I don't know. He went to find your brother. I am sure he found him now.’
‘So what happened next? Did they really manage to find each other?’ A young student asked Shang Heng, his master.
‘Of course they did. They are happy together.
Huai'en never grows up, and Fan Wujiu never ages. The time stopped for them - they run around, frolicking among the hills. The boy's first love, reciprocated in the final moment, forever glows – well protected – with the same excitement and innocence. The books we burned for Fan Wujiu – Huai'en reads them for him. They see many beautiful sceneries, and chat on the rooftops as always.
There is no sadness.’
***
Perhaps he went along the trail of scenic spots he saw with Huai'en during a summer trip - perhaps he stayed there for a while.
There, among hazy mountains, Fan Wujiu rolled on the hard floor as he dreamt a bad dream:
He had taken his life, and when he arrived in the underworld, he had to negotiate with the spirits.
‘I committed many wrongdoings, but please, let me see the child. I have come here to look after the child.’
But the spirits taunted him: ‘You are not here to look after the child. Selfish man, you are here because you miss the child's love. To be deprived of it is the hell you deserve'.
Another spirit, however, interjected: ‘But the child committed no wrongdoings. He deserves to be happy after death, and the only way to ensure that is to let him be with the one he loves.’
Caught in a chaos of what seemed more and more like a courtroom, Fan Wujiu heard many voices:
‘He has another nephew who misses him at home. This man abandoned his family.’
‘This man is a killer. He grieves for a child, but how many lives did he take?’
‘No, he had noble goals. This was just a path he had to take. Were his circumstances more advantageous, he would not have chosen it. He became an official through his own merit and hard work, and ever since, he had helped many people.’
‘Truly, the child will not find peace if he thinks this man is all alone.’ A spirit argued. ‘And his family? Will they know peace? If after such extreme measures these two are still separated, would it not mean that all of this was truly futile and a waste?’
Frightened, Fan Wujiu looked up. On the grassy hill ahead, he saw a familiar dark silhouette, like a panther always ready to leap forward.
‘What are you doing here? This is not a place where you should be!’ Huai'en exclaimed as he grabbed the man by the sleeve and – taking advantage of the spirits shouting over one another – dragged him away.
Once they noticed the pair run away, the spirits tangled themselves into a squirming knot as some rushed to capture them, while others tried to restrain the unkind ghosts.
Panting and laughing through tears, the two collapsed into the grass.
‘My child, my sweet boy. I found you, you found me. Where have you been staying, what have you been eating?’ Fan Wujiu cupped the youth's face just as he did in that final moment - except now, everything was warmth.
‘The weather is always nice here, so I have just been sleeping under a tree. I do not feel hungry, but as I walk around, I find many fruits.’
Fan Wujiu reached towards a shape he noticed in the grass beside them. He felt a familiar feel of the skin of a pear.
‘There are so many places I have been to that I need to show you’ Huai'en exclaimed as his eyes glistened with light.
Everything was warmth.
‘Show me now?’
When Fan Wujiu woke up, he felt at peace.
He walked towards the edge and closed his eyes, letting the cool morning fog envelop him.
At home, Xie Bi'an sprang to his feet. It seemed that his sensitive ears heard familiar footsteps.
‘Shang Heng’ his voice shook slightly as he called for his son, but soon, he smiled – ‘Go see who's at the gate.'
When the child opened the door, he saw Uncle Fan's familiar, cheerful face, dark from the sun and wind, framed by white hair.
The man pulled his little nephew into his arms and squeezed him tightly.
‘I can't show them to you now. This is not where you should be just yet.’
‘This is also not where you should be! But since you are here, I should be with you.’
‘No, Lao Fan. You once told me to wait, and I said I did not mind waiting. You tried to dissuade me. I know you planned that if I persisted, you would be mine; if I let go, I would be free.
I feel like here, decades will pass quickly. As I died loving you, it will always be the same. Now, if you persist, I will be here. If you let go, you can be free.
Come again when you are a really old man. If it feels like life has no meaning, go to a new place - so that you can tell me all about it when we meet again.’
A warm wind blew on a sunny afternoon. The residence was decorated in white.
‘Such a sad occasion, and yet I feel like I should be happy for Old Mister Fan. Teacher, I remember the story you told me. Have they found each other now?’ A student asked Shang Heng, now an elderly man.
‘Of course they did. They are happy together.
Huai'en never grows up, and Fan Wujiu is exactly the way Huai'en last saw him. The time stopped for them - they run around, frolicking among the hills. The boy's first love, reciprocated in a final moment, forever glows – well protected – with the same excitement and innocence. The books we burned for Fan Wujiu – Huai'en reads them for him. They see many beautiful sceneries, and chat on the rooftops as always.
There is no sadness.’