Work Text:
Luo Qingyang had never climbed a trellis before. She decided, halfway up, that she hated it. The wood was old and splintering, the vines scratched at her arms, and her robes kept catching on loose nails. But Qin Su was at the top, standing on the balcony with her hand gripping the railing, and Luo Qingyang had never been more terrified in her life.
She had heard the whispers three days ago. A servant in the Jin compound, drunk and careless, murmuring about the young master and his wife. About a secret that should never have been kept. About a bloodline that had twisted in on itself like a serpent eating its own tail. Luo Qingyang had frozen mid-step, her heart plummeting, and she had known. She had known exactly what it meant for Qin Su.
The Jin Guangyao she had once respected, once pitied, was not the man Qin Su had married. He was the man who had built a cage around her and called it love. And now Qin Su knew.
Luo Qingyang reached the top of the trellis and hauled herself over the railing, landing in a graceless heap on the balcony floor. Her palms were scraped, her hair was a disaster, and she was fairly certain she had lost a shoe somewhere in the rose bushes below. None of it mattered.
Qin Su turned at the sound. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen, and she looked like a woman who had already stepped off the edge and was simply waiting for the ground to catch up. She was wearing her wedding robes. The deep red silk was immaculate, untouched, as if she had put them on for the last time and wanted to be beautiful when she fell.
Qingyang scrambled to her feet. "Don't move," she said, her voice cracking. "Please. Don't move. Don't do anything. I'm here. I'm right here."
Qin Su stared at her. Her hand was still gripping the railing, knuckles white. "What are you doing here," she whispered. "You can't be here. He will see you. He will-"
"I don't care," Qingyang said. She stepped closer, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. "I heard. I know everything. About him. About your mother. About all of it."
Qin Su flinched as if she had been struck. Then her composure shattered, and she let out a sound that was not quite a sob and not quite a scream. It was the sound of a woman falling apart in real time.
"He lied to me," Qin Su said. Her voice was raw, scraped hollow. "My entire life was a lie. My mother. My father. My marriage. I am married to my brother. My own half-brother. And he knew. He knew the whole time and he still-"
She stopped. Her hand tightened on the railing. Her gaze drifted down to the stone courtyard far below.
Qingyang moved before she could think. She crossed the balcony in three steps and grasped Qin Su by the wrist, pulling her back from the edge with more force than she intended. They stumbled together, crashing into the wall, and Qingyang held on like Qin Su was the only solid thing in a world that had turned to water.
"Don't you dare," Qingyang said, her voice shaking. "Don't you dare leave me like this."
Qin Su looked at her. For the first time, really looked. Her eyes searched Qingyang's face, desperate and confused. "Leave you," she repeated. "What do you mean, leave you?"
Qingyang swallowed. Her throat was tight, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth. She had never said this out loud. She had never planned to. She had been content to watch from a distance, to smile and nod and pretend that the way she felt about Qin Su was just admiration, just friendship, just the normal affection of one woman for another.
But Qin Su was standing on a balcony in her wedding robes, ready to die, and Qingyang could not keep the truth in any longer.
"I mean that I love you," Qingyang said. "I have loved you for years. Since the first time I saw you at that banquet, when you laughed at something silly and I forgot how to breathe. I told myself it was nothing. I told myself you were married, you were happy, you were everything I could never have. But I have spent every day since then wishing I could be the one to make you laugh. Wishing I could be the one to hold your hand when you were scared. Wishing I could be the one you came home to."
Qin Su stared at her. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Qingyang pressed on. "I know this isn't what you need to hear right now. I know your world just collapsed. I am not asking you to feel the same way. I am not asking you for anything. But I need you to know that you are not alone. You have never been alone. And if you step off this balcony, if you let him win, I will spend the rest of my life regretting that I never told you the truth."
The silence stretched between them. The wind carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine from the garden below. Somewhere in the compound, a servant laughed. Life was continuing, oblivious, indifferent.
Then Qin Su let go of the railing. Her hand fell to her side, and she turned fully to face Qingyang. Her eyes were still wet, but something in them had shifted. Something had softened.
"You climbed a trellis," Qin Su said quietly. "You climbed a trellis to save me."
"I climbed a trellis because I could not bear the thought of losing you," Qingyang said.
Qin Su reached up. Her fingers brushed Qingyang's cheek, wiping away a tear Qingyang had not even realized she had shed. "You are a fool," she whispered. "A reckless, ridiculous fool."
"I know," Qingyang said. "I am also desperately in love with you. I thought that was implied."
A choked laugh escaped Qin Su. It was watery and fragile, but it was a laugh. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Qingyang's, and closed her eyes.
"I don't know who I am anymore," she said. "I don't know what is real. I don't know if I will ever be able to trust anyone again."
"Then trust me," Qingyang said. "Start with me. I will tell you everything I know. I will help you leave this place. I will burn this compound to the ground if you ask me to. But first, you have to choose to stay. You have to choose to live."
Qin Su was quiet for a long moment. Then she pulled back and looked at Qingyang with eyes that were still raw, still grieving, but no longer empty.
"I choose to live," she said. "I choose you."
Qingyang let out a breath she had been holding for three days. Her knees went weak, and she had to brace herself against the wall to keep from collapsing. "Okay," she said. "Okay. Good. That is good. We are going to figure this out. We are going to get you out of here, and we are going to find somewhere safe, and we are going to build a life that is yours. Not his. Not your mother's. Yours."
Qin Su nodded. Her hand found Qingyang's, fingers intertwining. They stood there on the balcony, two women in the moonlight, holding onto each other like they were the only two people left in a world that had gone mad.
Then Qingyang grinned. It was shaky and exhausted and absolutely ridiculous. "Also," she said, "I think I lost a shoe in the rose bushes. You owe me a new pair."
Qin Su laughed again. This time it was stronger, brighter, a little less broken. "I will buy you a hundred pairs," she said. "I will buy you the entire shoemaker. I will buy you a whole wardrobe if you get me out of this dress."
"Deal," Qingyang said.
They climbed down together. Qingyang went first, guiding Qin Su's feet to the stable rungs of the trellis, catching her when she slipped. The rose bushes tore at their robes and scratched their legs, and by the time they reached the ground, they were both covered in dirt and torn silk and tiny red welts.
They ran. They ran through the gardens, past the sleeping guards, past the koi ponds and the bamboo groves and the gate that had always seemed so impenetrable. They ran until their lungs burned and their legs gave out, and then they collapsed in a field of wild grass, laughing and crying and holding each other.
Qingyang rolled onto her side and looked at Qin Su. Her hair was a mess. Her wedding robes were ruined. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt and the faint smudge of rouge that had long since given up.
"You are beautiful," Qingyang said.
Qin Su turned her head. Her eyes were soft, curious. "You think so?"
"I have always thought so," Qingyang said. "I just never had the courage to say it."
Qin Su reached out. Her hand found Qingyang's, and she brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss to Qingyang's scraped knuckles.
"Thank you," she said. "For climbing the trellis. For telling me the truth. For not letting me fall."
Qingyang squeezed her hand. "I will always catch you," she said. "Always."
They lay there in the grass until the sky began to lighten. The first rays of dawn painted the clouds in shades of pink and gold, and somewhere in the distance, a bird began to sing.
Qin Su closed her eyes. For the first time in days, she slept.
And Qingyang watched over her, keeping vigil, keeping faith, keeping the promise she had made on that balcony.
She had climbed a trellis for love. She would climb a thousand more.