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“Apologies, General, but there’s no news about His Highness Yin Yu.”
That was the umpteenth time they had that conversation. Quan Yizhen went to ask her about that several times a month, and her answer was always the same. It had been a long time since the last anyone found some sort of clue —by clue she meant rumor— about Yin Yu’s whereabouts, so by then, basically everyone in the Heavens considered him to be long dead.
Everyone but Quan Yizhen, that is.
No matter what he personally believed, though, the fact was that everyone around him acted like Yin Yu was dead, and talked about him in the worst possible terms, considering him a traitor and a stain in the history of the Upper Court. Whenever Quan Yizhen tried to fight back those accusations, all he received were either weirded out looks, pity, and the occasional scolding. And that was to his face but he knew that behind his back, the talks were much, much worse.
That was not going to change the way he thought and felt about his shixiong, of course, but it was still painful.
It was painful to be the only one that had an unchanged opinion on Yin Yu. It hurt to know he had no one to talk about Yin Yu anymore, because whenever he tried, all he got was more pain in return.
Which made everything more complicated and confusing for him. He wasn’t stupid, but he truly couldn’t understand what had happened that led them to… well, to the way things ended between them. He wasn’t sure of how he felt; there was an overwhelming mix of emotions there, and he wasn’t able to unravel them on his own.
He always had a hard time dealing with his emotions in general. Sometimes they were too big for him to handle. Sometimes they were so small that he wasn’t sure of what they were, but knew they were there. Sometimes he knew he was feeling something but had no idea of what it was. It was annoying, especially when it was something that felt wrong. Sometimes a whole day, or more than a day, even, felt just wrong but he had no way to explain why.
Yin Yu had tried to help him with that when he was a kid, but wasn’t that successful, though, probably because Yin Yu himself had a lot of trouble with his own emotions, though he would never let Quan Yizhen know about that. That was something his shidi would only get to learn much later.
Jian Shi, on his part, had a way to deal with emotions that seemed to consist exclusively on anger and variations of it, so that had not been useful either. He was intense, explosive, and Quan Yizhen wasn’t exactly like that. And after things ended the way they did… well, of course Quan Yizhen would not want to follow his example.
Though sometimes, he wished he had been like that too. At least Jian Shi knew his own feelings, right? Quan Yizhen would have liked to be able to say the same, and not only say it but show it, with the same conviction and certainty Jian Shi did.
Because what certainties did he have by then?
He thought about it, in the privacy of his empty palace.
He was sure that Yin Yu was still alive somewhere. He had no proof but also was not ever going to have any doubts in his heart. The only way he would ever consider the contrary, would be with irrefutable evidence. So he kept believing.
His only other certainty was that he loved Yin Yu, though if someone ever asked him to explain his feelings, if someone had inquired about what kind of love it was that he felt, he would probably not be sure about that.
Shixiong was shixiong and that meant he was someone he loved! But if someone had said oh, then you love him like a brother? that would have been wrong. Quan Yizhen needed different words for that, but it was like there were no words that would be enough to encompass his feelings.
Especially when his feelings were so complicated, when they had so much to talk about first.
There was no way for him to be able to understand it all on his own.
At some point, he considered trying to ask Ling Wen to help him —since she was the only one in the whole Heavenly Capital that didn’t talk to him like he was stupid— but just one look from her was enough to make him desist from that idea (he didn’t even get to try).
Ah, what a mess.
If only someone would tell him why it was so wrong to feel the way he did!
It seemed like, somehow, he was always feeling the opposite of what he should.
He loved Yin Yu despite what had happened between them. Wanted to find an explanation for it instead of judging Yin Yu without talking first. Refused to consider him a traitor, no matter what other people said.
And when everything went even worse, when after years of looking they finally met each other and shortly after Yin Yu died a horrible death in the hands of Jun Wu, Quan Yizhen’s feelings only got more urgent, more confusing and overwhelming.
Everyone expected him to finally mourn Yin Yu, to give up, to accept his death.
Yet he did not: he would never, ever accept that.
When everyone expected to find him despairing and broken, they found him hopeful.
Well, he also felt sadness and pain, of course. He was human! He suffered, deeply, but refused to stay focused on that emotion. As he always did, he clung to his hope, and kept going, doing all he could. Which paid off, in the end.
He got Yin Yu back. It was time to find his answers.