Sweet Universe: A Priest Fanzine by Sweet Universe

c o n t e n t s Foreword About Priest Arts & Fics Contributors Page Acknowledgements

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rage against the dying of the light 10 Emmy [Zhen Hun; WeiLan] Be it fate or fortune, Kunlunjun dies slowly.

Act 2 Scene 2 42 Hyouka [Shan He Biao Li; ShanHuan] The sea leaves unpleasant memories lingering within Nan Shan, and Chu Huan decides to paint over them with new ones.

implied impending character death, set at the end of the backstory in Ch. 87, vague spoilers for entire Kunlun/Ghost King past.

A Straight Line 52 Hyouka [Can Ci Pin; LuLin] The language of a body cannot be deciphered by sight alone, and Lu Bixing decides to take a hands-on approach.

second nature 16 orro [Zhen Hun; WeiLan] Shen Wei gets deaged. It's hilarious up until Zhao Yunlan realizes that he's dealing with a little ghost king. Post-Canon. Mild Blood. Age Regression/De-Aging.

in rapture and in woe 72 Cecentre [Guo Men; DouXu] They say dreams are the manifestation of repressed longing, of desires that can’t be expressed in daily life.

Parting Grief Like Spring Grass 24 Hyouka [Jin Se; LiDuan] ‘The longer it grows, the further you become’. Bai Li reminds Shi Wuduan that they have a very important ceremony they have yet to perform.

Established Relationship, Cohabitation, Semi-meta?, spoilers till the end

i dream of you in a winter night 31 shairiru [Lie Huo Jiao Chou; JiLing] Everything that is warm is real.

Grotesque 64 Cecentre [Mo Du; ZhouDu] Fei Du didn’t realize it, but meeting Luo Wenzhou was the most fortunate thing that happened in his life.

Fragments 32 shairiru [Lie Huo Jiao Chou; QiuChun] A glimpse of Yan Qiushan’s memories and a wish for a lifetime.

Introspective, Cohabitation, Established Relationship Spoilers: for one detail in chapter 44, for who broke up first, aaand the last scene of the main novel.

Spoilers for Chapter 79

easy simplicity 71 Ceta [Sha Po Lang; ChangGu] Sweet moments between Chang Geng and Gu Yun

Grass for Bed, Stars for Lantern 36 Hyouka [Qi Ye; XiYuan] Hand in hand, Wu Xi teaches Jing Beiyuan about the land he loves and has sworn to protect.

F O R E W O R D

Welcome to Sweet Universe! This fanzine is a collaboration between several Priest fans across the globe, both international and local fandom alike. It is our greatest pleasure to share our love for Priestâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s novels through arts and stories that showcase the beauty of the worlds she created and characters she gave life to. This is also a birthday gift for Priest, for bringing us these beloved characters and worlds that we have grown to cherish and love. We hope you enjoy the zine and may it encourage everyone to further delve into Priestâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s universe.

P R I E S T

神女 (goddess)

小甜甜 (xiao tian tian)

皮皮 (pipi)

p大 (p-da)

Priest is a Chinese author of the online platform Jinjiang Literature City. She started posting her works in 2007 and has penned 27 novels ever since, both BL and BG altogether. As of writing, she is the top author of the website, having all-time accumulated points of over 120,000,000,000+. Many of her novels have been published in print, earned spots in bestseller lists not just in China but overseas, and even won acclamations and awards. Citing most recent ones, Mo Du has won Most Popular Novel in the 4th Chinese Original Fiction Awards (2018), while Can Ci Pin/The Defective has won Best Original Book in the 30th Galaxy Awards (China’s equivalent of Hugo Awards) last November 2019. Her works are highly valued by companies, having several IP adaptation licenses for live action, donghua, manhua, movies, audio drama, audio books, games, and music.

Priest art courtesy of Sora (twitter.com/1soraille2) 4

镇 Zhen Hun 魂 5

rage against the dying of the light Emmy

throw himself before Kunlun’s almost translucent form. He struggles unsteadily to his feet again. “It’s never a waste.” His words come out fierce and adamant, a hint of a storm churning behind his damp eyes, yet his voice cracks on the last syllable. Kunlun drops his hands to his side to observe the youth pitching another fit of clingy stubbornness. It’s an amusing—almost cute—little spectacle, watching the ghost king quaver with pouty lips and red-rimmed eyes and that slight, disgruntled crease in the middle of his forehead that Kunlun has the sudden urge to smooth out with his finger. The ghost king clenches and releases his grasp on his robe. His skin, already a ghastly pallor, whitens around his knuckles from his death grip, resembling a blanket of fallen snow coating the jagged detritus at the bottom of a cliff— deceptively delicate, yet no less dangerous—and in a flash, his claws unsheathe. The tattered robe he wears suffers a few more lacerations, but his gaze remains sullenly obstinate as he squares his jaw. He still only manages to look Kunlun in the eyes briefly before he drops his head again, shoulders slumped, hair slipping to shadow his face. Unbidden, a rolling wave of possessive, jealous frustration crashes down on the ghost king’s shoulders. It’s not fair, Kunlun can’t leave him now, and if he has to do whatever it takes to make Kunlun stay, then he’ll— (He’ll—) Kunlun heaves a sigh, peering into the distance beyond the Great Seal. As if some of his primordial essence drifts into the wind with his breath, his form seems to dim and waver before the terrified ghost king’s eyes. When Kunlun turns to face the youth once again, his expression carries an air of weary mischief—after all, Kunlun can’t just sit here and let this sad ghost spend the rest of his life bawling his eyes out. “Well, now’s your chance to do whatever you’d like to do before I die.” The ghost king lifts his head when Kunlun starts speaking, but the hopeful light in his eyes snuffs itself out when Kunlun finishes his sentence. A beat passes, and then the ghost king swallows and asks with a wary, guarded curiosity, “Do what?”

“The young ghost king finally has no words left to say in response, as he realizes his own helplessness for the first time. All of his abilities are to slaughter, to raze, to devour; he truly can cleave apart all that exists in the world, both living and dead. From the moment he had come into being, he is one who shatters earth and shakes heaven, who leaves gods and ghosts alike cowering in fear, but what is the use of all that? He is still powerless to save the one he loves the most.” When the ghost king—though not all ghost, but not quite god, now—finishes crying himself hoarse, he collapses against the roots of the Ancient Tree of Merit, staring ahead into the lifeless Profane Land. Grimy tears streak his cheeks as he sniffles pathetically, bottom lip trembling. He rubs at his eyes with a shaky hand and finally levels his bloodshot gaze back towards Kunlun, who reclines against the tree in silence, observing the no-longerquite-so-little ghost king’s hunched posture with distant regret and a melancholic smile. For a short stretch of infinity, neither god nor ghost speaks. “When…” The youth trails off after just one word, his voice fragile from weeping. Kunlun shrugs, donning a blasé mask. He laces his hands behind his head and tilts back to lean against the tree’s trunk. The bark is rough; it scratches the backs of his hands, and Kunlun absently catalogues the sensation— Soon, he’ll never feel something as simple and irritating as this ever again. “Who knows exactly? Eventually.” He slants a dismissive glance toward the huddled form of the ghost king, who studies Kunlun’s indifferent features with swollen eyes. “There’s no need to waste your newfound freedom dawdling around the last embers of a dying fire,” Kunlun adds, knowing full well how poorly his choice of words will be received. “It’s not a waste if it’s with you,” the young ghost king retorts immediately, leaping to his feet and stumbling over the hem of his robes in his effort to

(He could tear the world to shreds; he would do it in an instant, if Kunlun asked. If it would save him.) Kunlun smiles. “Didn’t you say that you like me? I’ve already offered you the part of me worth the most, but this old body still has a few other uses; it’s not entirely worthless,” he adds in a joking drawl. “Of course you’re not worthless.” The last trace of the youth’s overcast expression dissipates, leaving him staring up at Kunlun in confused protest. His claws sheathe again, and the hint of an indignant furrow between his brows mars his otherwise uncannily smooth skin. Kunlun crows internally—befuddling the ghost king into temporarily forgetting his misery is easier than he’d thought it would be. “Ah, don’t you know what you do with those who reciprocate your feelings?” he scolds lightly. The youth’s expression falls, and he lowers his head in shame, shifting uneasily and chewing on his bottom lip. Naturally, someone as knowledgeable as Kunlun-jun would be equally wise regarding matters of “reciprocation”. All the clueless ghost king knows is simply in terms of what he instinctively likes and what he doesn’t, with little to no understanding of how to consider the depth of others’ emotions. “I don’t,” he mutters, voice wilting into a brittle whisper. Since his birth, his first glimpse into a world beyond the Profane Land had been a hazy green figure on the horizon, imparting the first grains of knowledge his newborn self would ever glean: that the ghost tribe is a mistake conceived from darkness and filth, that a slip of the hand had resulted in him and his kin crawling out from the foul underbelly at the foot of Buzhou Mountain, infesting the corners of the young world like deadly maggots. His only real taste of what else life has to offer had also come from Kunlun, and it had left him with an insatiable yearning that he’d never experienced before. Not for blood, not for violence—this hunger had clawed its way out from his nonexistent heart and swallowed the breath from his lungs, leaving him willing to crawl to the ends of the world and cleave the sky in two for that man whose glance had stolen

everything from him and given him everything in return. (For that man who is withering away before his eyes.) With little capacity to voice how he feels aside from the simple phrases “I like you” and “I want to hug you”, the ghost king is left clenching his jaw, teeth almost cracking under the pressure, and choking on the tumultuous longing churning like sickly-sweet carrion at the back of his throat. He blinks away petulant tears and curls his fingers into fists, glaring at the wasteland beneath his feet—all darkness and dust and death. Kunlun laughs, bright and airy and lively: “Uneducated little whelp, have I not taught you enough yet?” Before the youth can so much as reopen his mouth, Kunlun continues speaking, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re too young, anyway. Don’t worry.” His teasing may be somewhat excessive, Kunlun admits to himself as he hides a smirk behind his sleeve. But does a dying man not deserve some form of respite? Needling this wild creature out of his despair is fun, although Kunlun is the type of man to run his mouth without consideration for others until someone—by which he means his conversational partner—finally snaps. The young ghost king, as powerful as he may be, has a shallow understanding of the world and its ways: his unstable emotions ensnare him easily within their grasp, and his mulish resistance to change leaves him all the more susceptible to this trap. Kunlun’s smile falters, and he rests his hands back on his lap. As endearing as this curious, naive brat can be, he holds a vehement aversion to the natural progression of the world—even his own existence is contrary to everything that is right. Nevertheless, Kunlun dismisses the thought for the moment, As long as I’m still around... The ghost king has been frowning for quite some time now, no longer grinding his teeth in favor of mouthing ‘too young’ to himself under his breath instead, as if repeating the admonition enough times will allow some shred of clarity to manifest itself in

his thoughts. Finally giving up entirely, he lifts his head, but before he can speak, Kunlun opens his own mouth and preemptively interrupts: “So, as I was saying—any requests of me?” The ghost king freezes, mouth half-open. “What?” Kunlun raises an eyebrow. “Requests,” he repeats. “Forget everything I said earlier. Let’s get back to the core of my question.” “I…” The ghost king purses his lips, finally distracted enough from his grief to consider the question. Unbidden, the memory of Kunlun’s lips pressed to his own not so long ago floats to his mind, and a furious red instantly floods his face. “What are you thinking of?” Kunlun asks, amusement creeping into his voice despite his best efforts to maintain an air of neutrality. The youth’s face flushes, and he pouts. Kunlun can only laugh to himself and imagine patting the ghost king’s cheeks. The ghost king licks his lips. Something seems to click behind his eyes, and he squares his shoulders in determination, gazing upwards at Kunlun’s lazy sprawl. “I have a request,” he announces. His voice rings clearly despite his embarrassment that is all too evident in the delicate red tinge still splayed across his paper-white cheeks, like ink wash painting made with diluted blood—eerie in its nature, yet no less exquisite. “I…” Just as quickly as his bravado had built up, it evaporates in a flash, leaving the ghost king ducking his head shyly, dark hair falling across his face like a shadowy veil. “I want to do…what you did before?” he mumbles. “Hmm?” Kunlun slides off the tree roots, gliding across the barren earth until he stands before the ghost king with a roguish glint in his eyes and a sharp hook to his smile. “Speak up. I can’t hear.” “I-I said,” the ghost king stammers, lifting his head and instantly lurching back a step, wide-eyed when he realizes how close he and Kunlun are, “can I do that again…to you?” He points shyly to Kunlun’s mouth this time, as if he expects to be swatted away for insolence any second. “It’s called a kiss,” Kunlun laughs. “I’ve already given you my true heart, you don’t think you have the right to steal a kiss as well?” He teases. If he had

a fan, he would surely be fluttering it before his face like the emperor’s most coquettish concubine. The ghost king takes a deep breath and lets his next words burst out in a frantic rush: “Then, can I kiss you?” As soon as he finishes speaking, he clamps his jaw shut, face reddening beyond description. Kunlun’s expression reveals no hint of surprise, and he offers the youth a serene smile. “Do what you like.” The ghost king blinks rapidly and swallows hard, straightening up as he gathers the courage to defile a god— (Or at least what remains of him.) The ghost king refuses to entertain any unpleasant thoughts in a moment like this; he forces the dark whisper in the back of his head aside with violence, having already shed enough tears to last him hundreds of lifetimes. The only sound present is his own blood rushing in his ears as he peers up at Kunlun’s expectant face; even the far-off screams of warring beasts fade to a ringing silence. His heart batters his ribcage in an unsteady rhythm that leaves him with a painful tightness in his chest when he breathes. Ba-dump. The ghost king leans in, tilting his head upwards. Ba-dump. Kunlun closes his eyes. Ba-dump. Their lips meet, and half a second later, their noses collide, forcing the ghost king to jerk backward, yelping in shock and falling against the roots of the Ancient Tree of Merit in an absurd tangle of gangly limbs. Kunlun, blinking down at the mortified little ghost king, spends a second taking in the situation with a head full of static—his nose twinges, his lips recall a chilly, phantom touch—before bursting into laughter. He doubles over, shoulders shaking, stomach cramping as he wheezes helplessly. Ridiculous, he thinks with overwhelming fondness, and for the first time in millennia, a vibrant warmth, almost painful in its sudden intensity, surges from his chest and spreads through his entire body like a violent river broken free of its dam,

wearing away at the snowcapped mountain peaks that guard his heart and transforming bitter ice into a torrential downpour of fresh spring rain. It’s strange that only on his deathbed has he ever felt this alive. The young ghost king stares with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, utterly transfixed, because Kunlun is stunning. With a vibrant smile made all the brighter by sunlight that scatters across his face in spontaneous fractals like little suns, cheeks flushed red with laughter-drunkenness, eyes curved and crinkled at the edges from besotted amusement— Kunlun is a veritable symphony of light framed with ink-black hair and adorned with regal green robes, fitting accentuations for a god. And the ghost king could watch him, gaze transfixed, thoughts scattered, and heart overflowing, until the world around them plunges back into primeval chaos. At their first meeting, a single look had stirred the aria of his heart. But this open, unrestrained laughter? The ghost king is sure his heart’s tempo has forsaken him entirely; Kunlun’s voice is the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard, swelling into a vibrant crescendo that crests then breaks, thrumming with tremulous energy as it falls in short, staccato bursts down the scale. When Kunlun’s laughter ceases, he collapses across from the young ghost king in a loose heap, again lounging on the roots of the tree. “You are a bumbling novice,” he informs the shell-shocked youth, still beaming. “I…am?” the ghost king asks with an uncharacteristically soft voice. Kunlun doesn’t appear angry, his words entirely at odds with his lighthearted tone and careless grin. “You are,” Kunlun agrees, “but that means I just have to teach you.” He throws the ghost king a lazy smirk, beckoning him closer. “Come here.” The ghost king shuffles over, but he stops just out of Kunlun’s reach, blinking up at him. Kunlun thinks he quite resembles a wary stray cat, unsure of how to approach a human enticing it with food. “Closer,” Kunlun insists, beckoning again. The ghost king takes another hesitant step forward, and that’s all that Kunlun needs. He reaches

out, seizing the youth’s slender hand, and he yanks the ghost king towards himself. “Ah—?” The ghost king nearly takes Kunlun’s head off when he topples forward, his instincts howling at him to lunge for the throat of whoever had dared to startle him. He restrains himself just in time, and instead he catches himself with one hand splayed across the tree trunk next to Kunlun’s head, rough bark wearing against his palm, as he tumbles into Kunlun’s lap, landing clumsily with his knees on either side of Kunlun’s upper thighs. Delicate green fabric, soft and silky and as light as a cicada’s wing, pools over Kunlun’s lap and folds crookedly beneath the ghost king’s awkward, half-kneeling, half-sitting position. Heat rises to the ghost king’s face in an instant, and he chokes, staring up at Kunlun with wide, stunned eyes. “Better,” Kunlun decides, releasing his grasp on the ghost king’s hand. The ghost king almost reaches for Kunlun’s hand again, but he stops himself just in time. “…I’m dirty.” Inanely, the first thought that comes to his mind is how this dusty cloth that he swaddles himself in will tarnish the lively green of Kunlun’s robes with mud and grime. (Like a soul as black as ink, spilling, staining, consuming all that’s left of an already fading god.) The ghost king shifts nervously. “I should…” Silly little beauty, worried about silly little matters. Kunlun rolls his eyes. “The only thing you should be doing is relaxing a little and moving closer.” Without waiting for a response, Kunlun settles his hands around the ghost king’s waist and tugs the startled youth towards himself. The ghost king collides with Kunlun’s chest with an oomph sound, steadying himself by grasping Kunlun’s shoulders. He doesn’t quite reach Kunlun’s height while standing, but sitting like this, he finds himself having to tilt his head down to meet Kunlun’s eyes. “Good enough,” Kunlun decides. “For…teaching me?” The ghost king asks dubiously, still fidgeting. Kunlun huffs an irritated breath and wraps his

arms securely around the ghost king’s waist, stilling the incessant squirming. “No, for trapping you in a loveless marriage—yes, teaching, isn’t that what I said earlier?” The ghost king flinches and ducks his head, restless energy diverting to his grip on Kunlun’s shoulders. His hold tightens and his fingers flex unsteadily, but he can’t quite bring himself to pull closer or push away, guilt and shame flooding his veins. Kunlun sighs. “I’m not rebuking you.” He slides his index finger under that angular chin, gently encouraging the youth to tip his head back up until their gazes meet once again. “No need for you to look so upset.” The ghost king swallows, all coherency fleeing his brain in a mad dash for beyond the Great Seal. Kunlun’s eyes glow with a tranquil profundity and tenderness, reflecting a golden sheen under the fading sunlight that filters in through the branches above, and the ghost king almost chokes on his tongue. (Too close…not close enough.) The mountain god smiles, and slides his hand from under the startled youth’s chin to tuck a strand of loose hair behind a red-tipped ear. Without wasting another breath, Kunlun cups the ghost king’s cheek and pulls him down into a careful kiss. The ghost king’s eyes flutter shut, and he reacts instinctively under Kunlun’s gentle guidance. The soft pressure of Kunlun’s lips against his own has him trembling and tightening his grip on Kunlun’s shoulders, desperate for something to ground himself with as his thoughts screech to a halt, before exploding into sudden burst of violent static—and all at once, a carnal, possessive fervor slams down over him, howling for him to kiss deeper, bite down on that bottom lip and smear godly ichor across both their mouths, devour Kunlun whole— But then Kunlun reaches up with his free hand and cups the ghost king’s other cheek, and the simple, comforting warmth and pressure of being held like someone precious, someone wanted, is enough to draw the feral ghost king up from the pits of his unhinged bloodlust, leaving him shivering with

helplessness. After an eternity or an instant, Kunlun pulls away, one hand still resting against the ghost king’s cheek, the other steadying his waist. The ghost king stares back, hazy-eyed and empty-headed, body light and fuzzy and ready to drift off into the lofty mountain peaks above. Kunlun licks his lips, watching the ghost king’s dazed reaction with hooded eyes. “Don’t run off for another few decades now,” he jokes quietly. “You still need practice.” “…Practice,” the ghost king parrots numbly, lips still tingling. “Practice,” Kunlun agrees, sweeping his thumb absently across the sharp angle of the ghost king’s cheekbone. “The power of the wildest rivers can still be harnessed by those with the patience to persist. More importantly, you’re not bound by your nature, Little Ghost King.” Kunlun taps the silent youth lightly in the forehead with his index finger. “Understand?” The youth blinks several times, not quite following. “Practice,” he repeats. “But…” He swallows his resentment, forcing the bitter taste of not good enough down his throat. “How much practice will it take to become someone like you?” (How could someone like himself ever become worthy of Kunlun?) “You’ll have to figure that out yourself, won’t you?” The ghost king’s expression falls at the ambiguous response. And maybe he feels too strongly—every passing second with Kunlun by his side has him floating up to the heavens, only to plummet back to the depths of the Profane Land in the next blink of an eye. Before the ghost king’s lower lip can so much as start to wobble again, Kunlun hooks his thumbs into the corners of the youth’s lips, pulling them upwards into a frankly terrifying smile with deadly fangs bared. “Stop it with that depressing face,” Kunlun chides, tugging a few times at the corners of the ghost king’s lips gently, before retracting his thumbs with a long-suffering sigh and cupping the youth’s face once more.

“…I’m sorry,” the ghost king says. His cheeks warm under Kunlun’s hands, and he purses his lips and looks down at Kunlun, eyelashes fluttering unsteadily. Kunlun huffs and pinches the ghost king’s cheek, leaving a faint, stark white imprint against already pale skin. “There’s no need to look so downtrodden.” He sweeps a thumb over the fading mark and leans forward to drop another kiss to the ghost king’s forehead. “Don’t forget—you’re free to go wherever you wish now.” Kunlun’s voice is soft with a rare kindness, but that gentleness lances through the ghost king’s chest, sharper and more painful than all the harsh words Kunlun has ever said in the past combined, and for a brief instant, he wants to cry again—he wants to wail and shriek until his throat tears and his ears bleed; he wants to unleash the full weight of his grief into the world beyond the Great Seal and let it consume all life beneath the sky. But more than anything, this terrified, lonely creature just wants to keep the one he loves the most at his side. (Even if he must chain Kunlun here himself.) Instead of voicing any of this, the ghost king simply pitches himself forward, closing the gap between the two of them with a frantic embrace as he throws his arms around Kunlun’s waist and clings to him with all his strength, sharp nails digging into Kunlun’s robes from behind. He tucks his head into the crook of Kunlun’s neck, nosing at unblemished

skin, and he resists the urge to bite down, to mark this stately mountain god as his own while he still can. Kunlun lets out a grunt, knocked back against the tree roots. The ghost king’s deceivingly slight frame belies its impressive strength, and Kunlun had been caught off guard—the sudden lunge knocks the breath from his lungs and stuns him for a heartbeat. He recovers quickly, however, and loops his arms around the shaking youth in his lap to return the hug, rubbing one hand in soothing circles on the ghost king’s back. “Okay, okay, you clingy child.” Kunlun sighs again, fatigue settling into his bones like the steady drip of water wearing down on stone. “At least remember—your life is your own now.” The trembling youth clings tighter, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. Kunlun smells like pine needles and babbling brooks, a faint breeze bringing with it the taste of petrichor, entirely at odds with the dry, sterile Profane Land. But the breeze is fleeting, and the quiet stillness that returns— with not even the distant howling of feral ghosts to break the silence— tastes like emptiness and ash, as if more of Kunlun’s spirit has blown away in the wind. Lively greens and blues blur with lifeless blacks and browns into a hazy, rotten mess before the ghost king’s teary eyes, and he closes his eyes, sinks into the embrace—for what meagre comfort it’s worth— and doesn’t say a word. (I don’t want my life to be my own, he thinks with a savage desperation, I want it to stay yours.)

second nature orro Zhao Yunlan doesn’t know whether to praise or scold Lin Jing for this latest triumph. It’s good that they’ve seized the boxes of smuggled goods especially since a good forty percent of it has unclean energies. But Zhao Yunlan has been stuck inside sorting dusty antiques for six days straight. He misses his wife. “Teacher Shen is literally upstairs. Shut up,” Da Qing says as he watches Chu Shuzhi open yet another box. He wiggles and jumps in, disappearing inside as he enjoys yet another box; Zhao Yunlan got bored of teasing him after day three. Zhu Hong's video of him had gotten a few likes, people laughing about how much fun the cat was having and another good portion telling him that the cat needs a diet. “My wife should not be suffering my work,” Zhao Yunlan says. Shen Wei had offered to help but Zhao Yunlan knows the truth; Shen Wei wants him home where he can ply him with food, wine, and a good romp in bed. The sooner this work gets done, the sooner Zhao Yunlan can go home and enjoy that which should be his (mainly Shen Wei being naked). Then there’s a scream and everyone runs upstairs. “What happened?” Zhao Yunlan demands, whip out and ready. He doesn’t see Shen Wei. Did he step out? It’s hard to tell if the scream came from Guo Changcheng or Zhu Hong. They’re both pale and in any other situation it would be hilarious to see Guo Changcheng under Zhu Hong, blushing bright red as he realizes how close his face is to her chest. Zhu Hong gets up and slowly steps towards the guilty item. “We were fine. And then Xiao-Guo opened this box. Teacher Shen pushed us out of the way and…” Zhao Yunlan watches with dread mounting as he sees a pile of familiar clothes lying by the box. Then it starts moving and he shouts for everyone to watch out. A small head pops out and stares at him with familiar, intense eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Zhao Yunlan and Zhu Hong say in unision. “What is it?” Chu Shuzhi asks before he sees the miniature Shen Wei. “Is that child...Teacher Shen?” Guo Changcheng asks. He clambors over on his hands and knees at Shen Wei’s level. The tiny Shen Wei looks at him and then leaps at him. Guo Changcheng screeches as Shen Wei bites his arm and pandemonium erupts. Zhao Yunlan grabs the naked Shen Wei and hauls him away, wincing as Shen Wei flails and kicks. Chu Shuzhi goes to Guo Changcheng and presses his hand to the wound. “That is not Teacher Shen,” Zhu Hong says. “Give me a towel or something,” Zhao Yunlan says. “You can’t tie a kid up-!” “His tiny dong is hanging out all over the place; just get me some damn clothes!” Zhao Yunlan roars and Zhu Hong shrieks something about how nasty he is. But she’s hurrying to get Shen Wei’s shirt and she tosses it at his face. Zhao Yunlan shoves it onto the wriggling Shen Wei and relaxes now that he’s clothed. Shen Wei looks down at his new wardrobe and then at him. “I know you,” he says and pats his face. “Pretty, pretty. I don’t remember your name. Why don’t I remember?” “You are so fucking cute,” Zhao Yunlan says and hugs him before he can think better of it. Shen Wei squirms at the sudden tight embrace and Zhao Yunlan lets go to avoid getting mauled. He sets Shen Wei on top of an empty box. “Ah, actually, I was going to ask you about that.” Shen Wei puts a finger to his lips as he thinks. The intense focus on that round little face is too adorable. Everyone waits and even Guo Cangcheng quiets his whimpering. Then he shrugs. “Dunno.” “Do you remember anything?” Shen Wei shrugs again. “No name,” Shen Wei chirps. He looks up at the window. “Don’t need it.”

“Oh, ok, cool, whatever. Your name is ‘Shen Wei’ here,” Zhao Yunlan says. “‘Shen Wei’,” he repeats. “Are you a ‘Shen’?” “No, I’m a ‘Zhao’. Zhao Yunlan,” Zhao Yunlan says. Shen Wei’s face falls a little. He pauses, his heart aching at the first hint of distress from Shen Wei. Ooh, he’s in so much trouble. “I was a ‘Shen’ a long time ago. That’s why it’s your name.” “Okay,” Shen Wei says. He swings his legs back and forth, uncaring that his shirt keeps slipping, and Zhao Yunlan sighs as he raises it back up. “First order of business is clothes that fit you. Zhu Hong?” “Normally I would protest,” she says. Then she runs away, and Zhao Yunlan files away the panic in her eyes to laugh over later. Right now it’s a little too real. He’s pretty sure Shen Wei won’t hurt him; that assurance doesn’t hold for the rest. None of them had been expecting a feral child. “Zhao Yunlan,” Shen Wei pipes up and he tugs on his arm. “Zhao Yunlan, where is this place?” “My work. You’re safe here, okay?” “Okay,” he says again. He looks at the others and licks his lips. “Can we eat soon?” “Oh hell no,” Da Qing says and speeds out of the room. “Come on,” Zhao Yunlan says. “The others will figure out what happened here. I’ll get you something to eat. What do you want? Candy? Cake?” “Meat!” Shen Wei bounces into his arms and looks up at him with wide eyes. “I can kill it for you! We can share!” Zhao Yunlan laughs and pats his head. “Fuck.” With Shen Wei tucked under his arm, and quite happy to be held by his ‘pretty man’, Zhao Yunlan divides the SID up. He’s on babysitting duty and for once no one complains that Zhao Yunlan is sticking to Shen Wei. They’d all rather avoid the little ghost king. Zhao Yunlan watches as Shen Wei ignores everything but him, and he’s not above admitting that he enjoys the undivided attention. Adult Shen Wei is much the same but he’s meticulous about his

work and responsibilities. This little Shen Wei has no such leanings and he trots after Zhao Yunlan, content to sit in his lap and watch him exist. It’s easier to drag up Kunlun’s memories like this with a piece of the past jumping in front of him, and Zhao Yunlan can’t help pulling on Shen Wei’s long hair. He doesn’t understand why his past self hadn’t scooped this adorable creature up the moment he spotted him. Zhu Hong returns an hour later and blanches when she sees Shen Wei eating a bloody chunk of pork. Zhao Yunlan takes the bag of clothes from her and shoves the receipt into his back pocket. “Is that raw?” “You eat raw meat all the time,” Zhao Yunlan points out as he tears the tags off the new clothes. “Is that mine?!” “No, it’s not.” Zhao Yunlan rubs at his forehead. “Made the bald monk go get it. Lao Chu took XiaoGuo to the hospital. The bite was pretty deep and he had to get stitches.” “Make sure he gets a tetanus shot; and maybe rabies too,” Zhu Hong says as she watches Zhao Yunlan dress Shen Wei. He looks adorable in the white dinosaur shirt and red shorts. Zhu Hong had forgotten shoes but being barefoot suits this tiny ghost king more. Shen Wei pulls his eyebrows together as he tries to decide if he likes this or not, then shrugs, and returns to eating. He’s voracious, sloppy, and Zhao Yunlan coos over him the entire time (even if he’s put off from his own meal). “Aiyah, Shen Wei, you’re making such a mess,” he says. “Eat nicer! It won’t go anywhere. It’s already dead.” Shen Wei sucks his fingers for the last bits of meat stuck under his nails. “Pretty man, I’m still hungry, can we eat more?” “Sure, sure, anything you want,” Zhao Yunlan says. He’s a sucker for adult Shen Wei; he has no hope of resisting this tiny one. Shen Wei looks at Zhu Hong “Can we eat snake?” “Hahaha, absolutely not,” he says as Zhu Hong chokes. “We don’t eat friends. Snake lady is our

friend. Got it?” Shen Wei blinks. He submits to Zhao Yunlan washing his face with a pout and Zhao Yunlan softly pinches his cheeks. Without a word, Shen Wei jumps down from the chair, and takes Zhao Yunlan’s hand as they go to see the progress of the ghosts. They hadn’t been around during the initial search but with Guo Changcheng and Chu Shuzhi at the hospital, they needed the extra help. “You need a leash for him, boss,” Lin Jing says as they walk into the front room. He’s pouring over the box Shen Wei had opened but there are a dozen items in there. It could have been any one of them that regressed Shen Wei’s age. “I didn’t find any at the store,” Zhu Hong says. “I’m not leashing him,” Zhao Yunlan says. He jiggles his hand and Shen Wei’s grip tightens. “Besides, this is good enough.” They both look at him for tempting fate. Then Da Qing walks back in, going right up to Zhao Yunlan’s feet like normal, and he’s about to say something when there’s a flash of red and white. Shen Wei grabs Da Qing by the tail and holds him upside down. He has that distinct look of hunger and Zhao Yunlan panics. Da Qing is shrieking and trying to swipe at Shen Wei, but Shen Wei is keeping those sharp claws as far from himself as possible. Zhao Yunlan would be impressed if he wasn’t terrified of Shen Wei eating his cat. “Ah, ah, Shen Wei, we don’t eat cats,” he says as he snatches Da Qing away. Da Qing retracts his claws and clings to Zhao Yunlan. “Especially not this one. This one is my friend.” “Oh,” Shen Wei says. “He’s crazy,” Da Qing says, breathing harshly. “I saw my life flash before my eyes. Lao Zhao, bring His Honor back, I can’t handle this thing.” “We’ll be in my office,” Zhao Yunlan capitulates. He sets Da Qing down on the sofa and drags Shen Wei off, locking the door behind him. Zhao Yunlan flops in his chair, hand pressed to his forehead as he sighs. Shen Wei looks down and bites his lip. “Am I doing something bad?” Shen Wei asks. Zhao Yunlan’s head snaps up. Shen Wei glances at him

before looking away again. “They are scared of me. All the ghosts were scared of me too. Because I would eat them.” “Come here,” Zhao Yunlan says and Shen Wei doesn’t move for a moment. Then he slowly makes his way over and Zhao Yunlan’s heart aches seeing Shen Wei so uncertain and lost. He scoops him up and some of the tension in Shen Wei leaves once he’s in Zhao Yunlan’s lap. “Tell me about the Profane Land.” “It’s boring,” Shen Wei says into Zhao Yunlan’s chest. “The ghosts fight. The ghosts die. Sometimes I see my brother. But he likes when the ghosts fight. I don’t like it.” Zhao Yunlan smooths the top of his head. “You were different,” Shen Wei says. “Green, pretty, alive. But dying? I don’t...can’t...my memory is…” “Yeah, it’s all scrambled right now,” Zhao Yunlan explains. He’s not sure about the particulars but he’s selfishly glad that Shen Wei remembers him. “Hey, hey, Shen Wei? I don’t think you’ll stay little like this for long. Those workers of mine can be pretty capable sometimes and they all miss the adult you. But let me tell you this now while you’re small; I’m very happy I get to be with you in this life. I remember you as this ghost king but I didn’t understand it, not really, and now I get it a little better.” Shen Wei uncurls a little, but he takes Zhao Yunlan’s hand and holds it with both of his. He presses it to his face and nuzzles into it. “So shameless like this,” he says, delighted. “Ah, it’s really a pity you hide this all behind your favorite mask. Professor Shen is so cold.” Shen Wei doesn’t let go of his hand. He looks up at Zhao Yunlan. “Teach me how to be less scary,” he demands. Zhao Yunlan chuckles until he realizes that Shen Wei is serious. He bats at his nose. “Well, to start with, you can’t keep looking at everyone like they’re a meal on two feet. Besides, not everyone tastes good. People eat nasty stuff all the time. You want to be a virtuous gentleman. That means helping the weak, protecting those who

cannot do it themselves.” “The weak get eaten,” Shen Wei says. “And instead of letting it happen, you stop it; that’s what you’re going to learn to do, to be. Those who would stretch a hand out to you for aid, you’ll take it, and help them a thousand times over. It isn’t about strong or weak. You’ll learn how to care for others, to nurse a sick man, to feed him good food so he stays healthy and strong. There’s a strength in kindness, in gentle words and calm touches; these little claws of yours will vanish but your hands and heart will be so much stronger for it.” “That’s a lot to remember,” Shen Wei says with a frown. “You will,” Zhao Yunlan says. He smiles at Shen Wei and kisses the top of his head. It really is amazing how Shen Wei went from this little bloodthirsty ghost king to the upstanding citizen he is today. But if anyone could do it, it would be Shen Wei, with that indomitable spirit of his. “It’ll become second nature. One day, you won’t even think about it. It’ll become your instinct.” Shen Wei mulls that over for a while as Zhao Yunlan happily plays with his hair. It’s so long. “Won’t that make me weak?” Shen Wei asks. “No, not even a little.” Zhao Yunlan shakes his head. “It’s the opposite. It’ll make you stronger.” “Strong enough to protect you?” “Yeah,” Zhao Yunlan murmurs. “More than strong enough for that. You keep me very safe, Shen Wei.” “Okay then,” Shen Wei says after biting his lip in thought. “That’s good.” “Such a charmer,” Zhao Yunlan coos. Shen Wei frowns at him, not quite understanding, but then he yawns. Zhao Yunlan glances at the time. They’d been working for most of the day before this incident had happened and somewhere along the way it turned into evening. He picks Shen Wei up and steps out into the other room where most everyone is. Wang Zheng and Sang Zan have come out now that it’s dusk and they look at Shen Wei with interest though they don’t move any closer. “Hey, if you guys aren’t going to find an answer tonight, I’m going to take this little one back home,” Zhao Yunlan says. Shen Wei is too pleased at being

carried to notice that everyone is still looking at him in fear. “Please do,” Lin Jing says. “He shouldn’t be able to hurt Wang Zheng and Sang Zan like this. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he could eat them.” “Can you hurt spirits?” Zhao Yunlan asks. “They don’t taste good,” Shen Wei says and that cements the decision. Da Qing insists he’s staying at the SID where it’s safe, even though today was supposed to be a salmon meal for him, but it’s not like Shen Wei is capable of cooking. Watching Shen Wei eat a slab of raw meat earlier had upset Zhao Yunlan’s stomach but he’s getting hungry, and he stops to pick up some food, hailing a taxi since there’s no way he can go around with Shen Wei on his motorcycle. Shen Wei marvels at the world, soaking it in, and the taxi driver compliments him on having a cute kid. When they park, Shen Wei tumbles out, and stares. “This is our house. You and I live here,” Zhao Yunlan says as he lets them in, balancing the keys and their dinner. “Wow! I love it!” Shen Wei says. He runs out to the garden. He’s about to yank one of the plants out when Zhao Yunlan’s garbled cry stops him. “I can’t?” “You’ll kill it if you do that,” Zhao Yunlan says. “Oh. And that’s bad?” “Yes. Yes, it is.” Shen Wei lets go and pats the leaves. Zhao Yunlan hauls him back in before he can break something, praying that Shen Wei’s destructive tendencies don’t apply to furniture. Shen Wei isn’t impressed by the takeaway but he devours it all the same. Then follows the most exhausting hour of Zhao Yunlan’s life: Shen Wei starts a fire in the living with a lighter he found under the sofa, shatters a mirror when he decides to punch his reflection, and nearly floods the bathroom by yanking the handle off the toilet. Zhu Hong texts him that Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng have returned though it was unanimous that Guo Changcheng go home to rest. It doesn’t seem like they’ve found a way to turn Shen Wei back to normal. Zhao Yunlan sighs but he’s not surprised; these things rarely get fixed right away. “Come on, time for bed. If you decide to wake up

and stare at me, that’s fine, I prefer that. I don’t want you running through the house and setting things on fire.” “You put it out though,” Shen Wei points out. Zhao Yunlan glares at his sass. “I’m giving you a bath. And you are not to touch the toilet again. I don’t know how you cracked it when I was right there watching you but I’m not letting you break it.” Shen Wei submits to getting cleaned without issue and he’s wobbling on his feet after, tuckered out after a long day of terrorizing the SID and an evening of trying to destroy their house. He smiles when Zhao Yunlan tucks him in and explains that this is their bed. But he passes out before he can do anything more than that. Zhao Yunlan watches him for a moment to make sure he’s asleep before going to get ready for bed himself. Shen Wei is still sleeping when he returns and Zhao Yunlan climbs into bed, amused at how perfectly Shen Wei fits in his arms like this. “Shen Wei, Xiao-Wei, you really worked so hard for me, didn’t you?” he whispers against the top of his head. He didn’t think he could love Shen Wei more but seeing how far he’s come since those early days, he can’t help but fall deeper in love with Shen Wei. He’s become such a good person. Zhao Yunlan holds him tighter, taking advantage of how small Shen Wei is to embrace him like this; but he’s eager for his adult husband to get back, so he can show him exactly how much he admires him. Postscript It takes them three days to turn Shen Wei back. He’s mortified upon his return. Zhao Yunlan gleefully recounts the tales of his smaller self until Shen Wei begs for mercy. Shen Wei bows his head to the SID and when he straightens back up, he gestures to the dishes on the table. Da Qing is trying to inch his way to the tupperware with his name on it. “I wanted to apologize and Zhao Yunlan suggested

I treat you all to lunch.” “Forgiven,” they all say in unison. Zhao Yunlan is so proud of them. He didn’t even have to glare. Then they’re attacking the feast like they’ve never eaten a day in their lives. “Is this really enough?” Shen Wei asks. “Babe, trust me, this is more than enough,” Zhao Yunlan says. He watches Da Qing gag on a fish bone and Lin Jing smacks him on the back while continuing to shove still steaming rolls down his throat. “Aiyah, Shen Wei, where’s my apology? I was the one who took care of your bloodthirsty self. I put my precious body on the line.” “Your gift is at home,” Shen Wei says, and there’s a tiny flush staining his cheeks. Zhao Yunlan smirks. “Then home is where we’re going. Bye-bye, enjoy your food and clean up after yourselves,” Zhao Yunlan calls out. For once no one bothers to complain about how nasty he is. Zhao Yunlan taps his chin as he thinks. “You gotta ply them with food more, honey. They’re so obedient like this. I like it.” “I terrified them,” Shen Wei says. There’s a note of hurt in his voice. Zhao Yunlan takes his hand, interlocking their fingers. “The old you scared them. The Teacher Shen they know and love would never,” he says. “And you?” Shen Wei asks. His tone is flat. “Were you scared of the ghost king? Did I threaten to devour and kill you like the others?” “I was more worried about your safety and wellbeing,” Zhao Yunlan answers. Then he grins. “And cooing over how cute you were. Such chubby little cheeks! Where did those go, ah, what a loss.” “Yunlan.” Shen Wei flushes. Zhao Yunlan kisses his hand. “I never felt in danger from you. But I never really understood what being a ghost meant. And now I see why you tried to stay away and warn me.” He pauses. “And seeing what you’ve become now, how hard you worked, I admire you all the more for it.” Shen Wei smiles, pleased even as he’s still flushed from embarrassment. Zhao Yunlan presses a kiss to his cheek. He’s married such a good man.

六 Liu Yao 爻 22

by: katarina_neko 23

by: ryoplica 25

锦 Jin Se 瑟 26

by: matchasakura2

Parting Grief Like Spring Grass Hyouka

needed a little tidying up,” he finally responded. Shi Wuduan blinked at him, the clear, water-like reflection of his dark eyes painting an endearing image before Bai Li. Bai Li returned to the tiny living space, bending down to press a kiss onto Shi Wuduan’s forehead. This little plant man was content to idle his day away if he could, and after their years of struggle, Bai Li was content to let Shi Wuduan become a complete sloth. He sincerely thought so, but some matters still needed to be tended to. “I just thought this place needed a little tidying up,” he finally responded. Shi Wuduan blinked at him, the clear, water-like reflection of his dark eyes painting an endearing image before Bai Li. “Only the two of us live here. It’s not like it’s so messy or lacking. The fields outside are not really growing anything but it’s not bad,” the reasoning was not due to his laziness; Shi Wuduan sincerely thought the few worldly possessions they owned sufficed for their simple life. Bai Li too, was not one to ask of many things in life, happy as long as Shi Wuduan was by his side. But it was soon apparent that the half fox spirit was not merely making a passing comment about their abode. The man usually went down to a nearby town to get supplies; Shi Wuduan sometimes went with him, and sometimes Bai Li would prefer to hide him away in their small courtyard. He was still holding a grudge over the fact that a young lady had been infatuated with his childhood sweetheart in his absence, and would rather not have anyone look at Shi Wuduan at times. The plant immortal was amazed that his little fox retained this vinegar for so long, but he was lenient towards Bai Li’s temper, indulged his demands. With a gentle pat of his cheeks, Shi Wuduan reminded him to buy some wine back and watched Bai Li leave. To be able to live like this, uncaring of the turbulence of the outside world while awaiting the return of his sweetheart was a hard-earned reward. The years they spent in bitterness could not be considered too long in the mortal realm, yet to the weary soul of Shi Wuduan, it felt like a lifetime of struggle. The days of agony and misery were now behind them; passing time aimlessly

“What are you doing, my little fox?” Bai Li was never pleased with the blood of the fox spirit within him. Not after what happened in the past. Not when the person he thought of as his mother could hurt him that way. Only one person was allowed to call him as such. With the pain he associated to this beastly blood, there was also enduring attachment. In the end, Bai Li could not cleanly sever this part of himself, so resumed his former appearance. His original form of a fox spirit, for that was the first shape his beloved recognised him in. In this small courtyard, remote and hidden within the mountains, Bai Li’s ears and tail were out for all to see, although there was only one other person to witness this part-animal form, his companion for the lifetimes ahead. Shi Wuduan was lazing on the chair, his eyes holding a languid charm as he looked at the fluffy tail gently swish back and forth at the sound of his voice. His charming wife is ever honest with his body, despite the calm expression upon that beautiful face. Under normal circumstances, Bai Li would never reveal physical proof of his beast heritage. No proper animal spirit would be so half-hearted in their transformation to let their ears or tail out. Although Bai Li would not consider himself a complete animal spirit, he only did it on whim to entertain his bratty companion, though he was still unwilling to let Shi Wuduan touch them. Not only was it ticklish, the fox had no idea what he would do if he let Shi Wuduan provoke him. Bai Li swore not to hurt him anymore, but the other side was now as fearless as he had once been, so it was up to the spirit to rein his own impulses in when Shi Wuduan every so often tempted the extent of his patience. Bai Li returned to the tiny living space, bending down to press a kiss onto Shi Wuduan’s forehead. This little plant man was content to idle his day away if he could, and after their years of struggle, Bai Li was content to let Shi Wuduan become a complete sloth. He sincerely thought so, but some matters still needed to be tended to. “I just thought this place

without the entanglement of human fates like this was their luxury. Shi Wuduan was initially not so indolent a person, but it was as though all the exhaustion of his spirit had spilled out into his muscles, and the immortal finally could stop his tracks and obtained his respite. The comfortable warmth of late spring winds lulled Shi Wuduan to slumber. After a few days of playing in the forest. meddling in the plot of earth and devising little pranks to amuse his partner, he had pretty much nothing else to do. It was when his subconscious stirred to a gentle touch of his cheeks, did Shi Wuduan awaken to Bai Li’s return. He tilted his head a bit and gnawed on the delicate finger. A cheeky smile reminiscent of his youth colours his expression in an affectionate glow, murmuring, “Caught you, Xiaolizi.” The fox spirit smiled at the term of endearment falling from those naughty lips, rousing Shi Wuduan from his sleep-laden stupor. As the man stirred and shook off the last vestiges of slumber, the myriad of supplies which were piled in a corner of the room finally caught the plant immortal’s eyes. “…Xiaolizi, is there a special occasion?” “Wuduan, don’t you feel like you’re forgetting something?” The question was innocent enough, but the telltale scent of vinegar was beginning to rise from Bai Li. Shi Wuduan slowly blinked at him, wrinkling his eyebrows in concentration. He earnestly thought but nothing came to mind. He was leisurely but definitely not forgetful. In the end, Shi Wuduan could only shrug and shook his head. Bai Li’s face remained serene but he could tell there were thunderclouds slowly gathering over his sweetheart’s head. He felt the dextrous fingers he nibbled earlier pinch his chin and tilt his head up, peach blossom eyes narrowed in visible exasperation. “From young, who was it who kept saying he would marry me, take care of me for the rest of my life? This spoilt mouth has uttered the word ‘wife’ countless times, yet we have never once made our bows; when does my errant husband intend to take responsibility?” Bai Li was waiting to see how Shi Wuduan would respond. This matter, it has never been brought up ever since they reunited. The karma of their entanglement

before made Bai Li afraid, the fox spirit still could see clearly the thunderous skies of that day. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep, the flash of lightning would appear behind his eyelids in vivid recollection, until he could not rest easy unless he held Shi Wuduan in his arms. Bai Li’s trepidation was not evident in his expression, but the repressed exhale of his breath, as though he was wary of breathing too loudly, the fine tremors going through those fingers, Shi Wuduan could feel it all. He knows what haunts the dreams of this beautiful man, for the same dreary landscape plagues his dreams too. The immortal laughs, dispelling the unbidden gloom. He thought his Xiaolizi never took his words to heart. His laziness really did make him forget something so important. “I have really wronged my wife for this…After all, the Water of Parting Grief can’t substitute wedding wine. That liquid was too salty to be bearable.” His answer gives birth to larger waves, drowning the smouldering agitation eating at Bai Li’s heart. The Water of Parting Grief may have caused their souls to be inseparable, but did it truly embody a promise from Shi Wuduan to be with him for the rest of their lives? Even if the man drunk it out of his own volition, the fear harboured in Bai Li’s heart was not so easy to extinguish. But as quick as bliss comes, the fox spirit was equally swift to declare in vehemence, “I will not bow to the Heavens, and we have no parents anyway. I only want to exchange my vows with you.” The arrogance of his claims would otherwise drive a regular man into righteous anger, but Shi Wuduan was no ordinary person. Neither of them had parents to ask for blessings, and he was in complete agreement with Bai Li’s brazen refusal to let Heaven and Earth witness this union. To be with this man was Shi Wuduan’s choice, he did not need account for his life partner to anyone. He pats the fox spirit’s cheeks in a comforting gesture, nodding to agree. “Then at least, will you let me bow to my master? The old man would be shocked to see me settle down,” the tone held no jest; Bai Li knew how much the old master meant to Shi Wuduan. If it was Shi Wuduan’s request, Bai

Li would not deny him. Once they came to an agreement, the two men unpacked the supplies Bai Li bought, and it immediately became obvious that the fox spirit really intended to wed Shi Wuduan, with the bright red robes amongst other paraphernalia coming out of the packages. Shi Wuduan could not help but chuckle as he thought of how eager his fox beauty was, and the small, inconsequential sound made Bai Li’s heart tremble. It was a sound he was always happy to hear, to be reminded the carefree boy he once knew could laugh again without a single burden in his heart. The couple briskly decorated their humble home and turned it into a simple bridal chamber, before they changed into proper robes for the ceremony. Seeing the foreign warm colours light up their courtyard, Shi Wuduan could not stop his laughter from escaping once more. The red embellishments, the unusually sumptuous feast Bai Li bought home, and even the bed had new embroidered quilts to go with the entire occasion. In cheek, the immortal tilted his bride’s face up, admiring the beauty in the ambiguous luminance of the dragon and phoenix candles. “Not letting any being look into our wedding, yet you went to such lengths to prepare? My wife must really want face,” he teased, waiting for Bai Li to be annoyed at his trivial ridicule. The imagined reaction never comes, as the fox spirit gazed into Shi Wuduan’s eyes meaningfully. His hands cup those thin cheeks, wondering how he could give this man a little more meat and vitality, to give more life and love to this soul who has him irrevocably trapped. “Isn’t it enough if I do it just to afford you the best that I can? This marriage is not for the eyes of others, but our own.” “…Mm, it’s more than enough. My Xiaolizi is a truly virtuous wife,” Shi Wuduan’s words appeared like a jibe, but his eyes were demurely lowered, an admission of his tenderness for Bai Li. It was a very quiet affair, with nothing but the moon to serve as their spectator as Bai Li and Shi

Wuduan bowed three times. Once to Shi Wuduan’s mentor, and twice to each other. It was a complete mess and some might say a mockery of tradition, but it was more than enough to serve its purpose for them both. Heat suffused Bai Li like it never did before, taking Shi Wuduan as his person in vow. His mind was buzzing in unrepentant glee when they crossed their arms and drunk their wine as true spouses. One step by one step, Bai Li was using all tangible forms he could to bind Shi Wuduan to him. He learnt his lesson long ago, he could not force the man if he was not willing. But Shi Wuduan is willing now, and the dazzling smile of his sweetheart has never left his lips. Even before they went to bed, the fox spirit dutifully tied a knot with a lock of each other’s hairs. “A knot to keep us connected for life.” The sombre declaration earnt Bai Li a finger poking the space between his creased eyebrows. Before his blurry gaze, Shi Wuduan was smiling. A smile so similar yet different from the days of their childhood. The breath-taking charm of his expression, after years of being able to see nothing but the pain they inflicted on each other, made Bai Li nearly fail to choke back his own miserable face. “Silly…Even without all that, I was bound to be yours from the first time I met you. I fought long and hard, but in the end…this heart returned to you.” Along with his whisper, Shi Wuduan’s thumb gently rubbed the teardrop mark on Bai Li’s wrist. The words united them in tradition, the partaken wine between them as a promise to share their lifetime, and a knot of their locks to bind them together. And their souls, branded by the Water of Parting Grief, can never lose sight of one another. Teasing his radiant bride for shedding tears on their wedding night, Shi Wuduan reminded him there was no longer need for fear or want of worry. “Bai Li, remember…I came back for you.”

烈火 Lie Huo 浇 Jiao 愁 Chou 32

by: KNeko630 33

by: Tang 34

i dream of you in a winter night shairiru He dreams of a kiss, like a butterfly that has just found a newly bloomed flower, a gentle breeze, hesitant and cautious. Young Sheng Lingyuan wakes up, the early morning rays of Dongchuan seeping through the windows of his hut. He stays lying down, his mind going back to the scenery they chanced upon the other day underneath the pear tree, then to the dream that he just had, a peculiar feeling brewing at the pit of his stomach. All his years had been about running for his life, he’d never had the chance to indulge in such pleasures and trivialities, and now, that seemingly absent part of his growth has started to pester his dreams. Just then, a voice rings incessantly at the back of his head, annoying but familiar. It draws his lips into a smile. “Lingyuan! Lingyuan! What was that? What were you dreaming of? I was just about to look when suddenly you woke up! Can’t you go back to sleep? I want to see the end of it! Lingyuan!” “Xiao. Tong.” The little chicken finally shuts up, as if holding his breath. Sheng Lingyuan’s mind is suddenly peaceful. “Lingyuan!” For not too long, it seems. “Don’t think too hard about it, Xiao Ji, you won’t understand.” “But do you?” A tinge of doubt taints his tone, “Maybe you’re just pretending you understand. You’re always like this, just because you’re bigger and taller and you know more, you think a little chick like me won’t understand the matters of the world!” Divine birds age slower, not to mention lazy children like this one, there’s no need to discuss how his not-yet mature mind will handle certain worldly concepts. “You are simply too young.” “Then, when I am older, will you tell me?” When he’s older, when he’s already able to

to cultivate into a human form and be separated from him… A part of Sheng Lingyuan aches. “Alright. If you get old.” He dreams of a kiss, like a butterfly about to set off, cold and sorrowful. Sheng Lingyuan wakes up — there is no one. It’s been years. Even without the shaman’s incantations to induce one’s greatest fears, etched in the deepest recesses of his mind was Xiao Tong’s last moment, when for a split second, he had a form. Too short, but it’s all Sheng Lingyuan has. He tries to hold on to that moment, to remember the shape of his face, the flame in his eyes, the build of his body —— but before he can conjure up a full image, it turns to ashes. He tries to hold on to the older memories then, the years they spent together on the run, trusting nobody but each other. He remembers the games they played in his mind, their petty fights over simple matters, the snores from Xiao Tong when he falls asleep during their lessons, the endless chatter and noise. If he knew one day, he’d be without it, maybe he would have treasured every syllable, every word. A corner of his heart crumbles, longing and grief lingering, impossible to be washed off through the passing sands of time. His hand reaches for the cold piece of a blade by his bedside. Ever since that fateful day, the blade never warmed up again. He grabs it by the hilt and heads outside. The first snowfall of the year descends upon him as he steps out of his tent, the vast expanse of land becomes dotted by the dim glow of white. The wind blows a melancholic tune, but inside his mind, there is just quiet. He is still unused to the years of silence in his head. These days, he can’t even remember how that little chicken sounds like. This alone made a fear rise up in him: I have lived too long. After a while, the scenery before him evolves to a blank sheet, the cold seeping through his robes. Winter seems to be stronger this year, but he knows of one place where the snow will never fall. One day, he will set off for it.

He dreams of a kiss, like a butterfly that found its favorite flower once more, careful but brave. Sheng Lingyuan cracks his eyes open and finds another pair staring at him, a hand gently caressing his cheek. “Xiao Ji, what are you doing?” he mumbles, but he leans into his palm, feeling the callouses from the years he lived on this world. “Lingyuan, I’m not dreaming anymore, right? You’re here?” Sometimes, Sheng Lingyuan asks himself the same question: Did he really deserve this, nestled against the arms of the person he loved the most in this world? Did he earn this peace and quiet? After all of the sins he committed, after all the promises he failed to fulfill, is he really truly living a life he once thought can only exist in his dreams? For some time, he had tried to push away the feeling, to push away the man. He hadn’t planned to stay for long, and he never felt worthy. The hand on his face is warm, the person’s breath before him is warm, their bodies hustled together like this is warm. Everything that is warm seems to be connected to reality. The kiss just now…it was certainly real. He holds Xuan Ji’s hand that is on his face and weaves their fingers together. “The fact that I can hold onto you like this, it’s a testament in itself: I’m here, I’m with you, and we’re never going our separate ways again.” “Promise? No more secrets? No more lies?” Xuan Ji grabs his hand tighter, leaning closer. “I promise. No more.” This time, the kiss is unlike any other dream — it is warm and unhurried, as if seizing every second that such intimacy exists in their waking consciousness. Three thousand years of separation, of longing and regrets, three thousand years’ worth of devotion and pain, all is for this small moment in a simple abode, in the comfort of a soft bed, and for the endless years to come. There’s no more need to dream.

fragments shairiru Yan Qiushan didn’t have much memory as a child, but among all the hazy recollections, Zhichun’s early awakening stood out most in his mind. The perspective in his dream was low, as if coming from a child who hasn’t even reached their parents’ waist, staring back at the quiet man sitting on the couch. Little Qiushan didn’t know yet who the man was, but he already felt a sense of belonging to this strange person, eagerly running towards him with his short and chubby legs. The man suddenly seemed surprise at his approach, subtly shifting back. With his movement, he accidentally sat on the remote control— The TV blared open, showing some popular wuxia drama that time where two jianghu masters were exchanging blows with their swords. He jumped up at the clanging sounds, his bare feet climbing up the couch, hugging his knees in distress. He probably didn’t know how people could fit inside the small box, staring at it with utmost suspicion. For some reason, the young boy found his reaction amusing and let out a hearty giggle. The fear dissipated on the man’s face, looking at him with a soft smile. Finally, he extended a hand towards him. Little Qiushan’s pudgy fingers grabbed at it, climbed next to him on the couch, and they both watched the TV show in silence. The scene rippled, shifting to another memory— It was one of their earliest dates. The park was filled with people, making Zhichun uptight, basically sticking next to Yan Qiushan’s side. Yan Qiushan kept a hand on the small of his back, guiding him among the throngs of people, rubbing circles with his thumb. They rarely went out like this, but it was Spring Festival, and he thought that Zhichun must be getting bored at home. He was fresh out of college and didn’t have much savings, this was the least he could do to bring Zhichun some sense of novelty. Seeing that his unease wasn’t lessening with the sights of the booths and decorations, he grabbed

Zhichun’s hand and pulled him towards a different direction, “Come on, I have an idea.” Zhichun let himself be pulled, weaving through the endless current of people until they reach a less packed street. They ended up in front of a vintagelooking photo studio. “Let’s have our picture taken together.” Camera phones were not yet that accessible during that time and having a picture from a photo studio was already a bit of a luxury. Yan Qiushan especially saved up for this, wanting to have a special memento for the two of them. “Picture?” Zhichun’s eyes widened, “Like those displayed in the house?” “Yeah, we don’t have one yet, do we?” They entered the studio together. Zhichun’s eyes wandered over the several photos displayed on the wall, observing them one by one with a certain scrutiny. Each photo featured different subjects — a family, an old couple, young lovers, group of friends, a girl and her pet dog…all of them seemed to share one common pose. “This one please.” Yan Qiushan points to a set of two 2R photos. Soon enough, the photographer instructed them to go inside the inner room, surrounded by plain white walls and faced with two umbrella-like equipment. “Zhichun.” “Hm?” Yan Qiushan looked carefully at his face, too close that Zhichun felt his neck starting to warm up. Before the redness could climb up to his head, Yan Qiushan reached out both hands and combed Zhichun’s hair with his fingers. “Just fixing you up.” Zhichun let out a soft chuckle, “Speak for yourself.” In turn, he fixed Yan Qiushan’s skewed collar. His skin was clear then, devoid of the scars that would eventually fill his body when he joins Fengshen. Zhichun fixed his hair too, swiping away a stray strand on his forehead. “Two shots, please make your pose,” the photographer said. Yan Qiushan leaned closer towards Zhichun

then; he’s not one to be very affectionate in public. Zhichun stared curiously at him, remembering the photographs he saw outside. How was it again… He tentatively raised his arm, trying to imitate the poses. Is this supposed to be on the shoulder? On his waist? Is that appropriate? Sensing his hesitation, Yan Qiushan turned to look at him, their eyes meeting. The impatient photographer clicked the shutter —— In a stream of blinding light, the scene was now on the common lounge of the Deviant Control Office, one of the rare days when Fengshen wasn’t running around the country to settle sudden unnatural phenomena. Zhichun was quietly listening to their colleague’s recollection of one of their cases with a soft smile on his face. He’s aware the others were still a bit unsure on how to interact with him. After all, being a Special Ability was different from being a sword spirit, there’s still some uncrossable distance in between. So, he tried to increase his presence among the others, much to Gu Yuexi and Zhang Zhao’s glee. The two have always been closest to Zhichun. Just then, one of their colleagues dropped a pun, to which everyone started laughing at. Even Wang Ze was loudly slapping at his thigh. Zhichun wasn’t able to understand why, so he immediately grabbed the glass of water before him to cover up his obliviousness. Yan Qiushan looked at him and smiled encouragingly — I’ll explain later. On the way home, he explained the joke. Upon fully realizing, Zhichun started laughing out loud, drawing the eyes of all the passengers in the shuttle towards them. Yan Qiushan automatically slouched on his seat, suddenly conscious of the stares, but his eyes remained on Zhichun whose face was as brightened up with an insurmountable amount of joy. Until they were almost ready to sleep, Zhichun couldn’t help but remember the joke and giggle, giving Yan Qiushan’s heart a sense of bliss. I hope I can always make you happy like this.

Zhichun’s giggles rang through the air, and the scene shifted once more— Bright light illuminated the living room as Yan Qiushan turned on the switch. They just came home from watching a movie, and all the way, Zhichun had been dead silent. The moment they have stepped foot inside their home, Zhichun’s arms suddenly wrapped around him, burying his face on Yan Qiushan’s chest. Then he cried. Their movie dates always ended up with Zhichun crying, much to Yan Qiushan’s amusement. After discovering that his beloved saber looked extra adorable after crying due to a film, he always made sure to check the reviews first in secret before buying the tickets in the cinema counter. Ten out of ten times, it must be a certified tear-jerker. Yan Qiushan was a guilty soul, but he did his part and rubbed Zhichun’s back consolingly. “You okay?” his other hand pulled a handkerchief from his pockets and handed it to Zhichun. “Here.” Zhichun wiped his eyes and nose, his cheeks flushed. The tips of his ears were red, too. “Was the movie that sad? I thought it was pretty…inspiring?” “You just want to see me cry,” he said with a sniff. “Says who?” Yan Qiushan smiled playfully, then drew Zhichun once more to his embrace, “Alright, alright, next time, I’ll let you pick our movie.” There was a moment of silence, filled with an intermittent sniffing. Just when Yan Qiushan thought Zhichun was calm already, he let out another round of sobbing. He’s normally very composed outside their apartment, only when they’re in the privacy of their own place could Zhichun show his other side — full of emotions, and very much attached. He loved seeing this side, though. Unlike the cold blade of his sword body, this Zhichun was real and very much warm. Yan Qiushan lowered his head and planted a kiss on top of Zhichun’s hair —— The late afternoon glow basked the dining room in a soft orange light. Colorful streamers hung on the

wall, reflecting the sunlight outside, creating an illusion of sparkles inside their humble apartment. On the center of the room was Zhichun, holding up a simple strawberry cake with a set of candles on top. His voice was mellow as he sang a birthday song, carefully walking towards him as he did so. When he finally finished the song, he looked up at him in expectation. “Who taught you to bake?” “Is that even important?” Zhichun smiled and raised the cake higher towards him, “Happy birthday, Lao Yan, make a wish.” Yan Qiushan never liked the fuss over birthdays, especially this day when he just turned thirty years old. But Zhichun’s face was lit up, his eyes wide and his smile warmer than usual. Ever since they’ve known each other, he never bothered to prepare anything since Yan Qiushan didn’t like celebrations either; he probably thought reaching thirty was something special and came up with all of these. “Don’t you have a wish?” Of course, I do. “Come on, close your eyes.” He obediently followed, squeezing his eyes shut like a child. But when Zhichun least expected it, he suddenly blew all of the candles, swiped off a whipped cream on top of the cake, and tasted it directly. “Ah, delicious.” “Qiushan! You—” He quickly escaped Zhichun’s scolding, laughing as he ran to the bedroom. “That’s not how you do it! You have to make a birthday wish!” The sound of Zhichun’s footsteps that followed him filled his heart with a certain tranquility. In simple moments like this, Yan Qiushan found no more reason to be greedy. He didn’t want the riches of the world; he didn’t have ambitions for the highest position. He was but a simple man who was satisfied with nothing all because he was in possession of one — his Zhichun. In his heart, a wish was made —— Let’s be together longer than forever.

七 Qi Ye 爷 39

by: weilanchanggu 40

Grass for Bed, Stars for Lantern Hyouka If Jing Beiyuan had any apprehension about being a hidden lover, then his concern was for naught. For an old soul who had seen over three hundred years’ worth of occurrences which would have been near unbelievable for the eyes of a sentient being of the mundane realm, he was quite surprised to see the quick acceptance of his status as Wu Xi’s partner. For once, the former Nanning Prince fully aligned with the young shaman’s opinion that their fancy customs were quite cumbersome at times. Of course, this was barring the discreet presence of male courtesans, but in the extravagant and complicated society raised in the riches of the capital, openly having a male spouse was unheard of. Jing Beiyuan had once banked on this taboo to rid himself of an arranged marriage after all. Yet as he arrived in Wu Xi’s hometown, he was soon brought to meet the great sage who could be considered as the young man’s guardian. There was hardly any time for the old soul to leisurely settle down, not in the way Jing Beiyuan imagined he could. Although he was accustomed to being waited upon from his upbringing, he was also used to performing his duties as the head of his household. The former prince could be incredibly idle if he wanted to be, but it did not mean he was the sort to genuinely skip his duties. In light of the manner in which he arrived at this settlement, Jing Beiyuan thought it was inevitable for him to pull some of his own weight; Wu Xi was still antsy about letting Ping An get close to him in case he secretly spirited his master away, as impossible as it sounded. The convenience of having his steward around was absent, he naturally had to do things himself. It was a rather sad state of affairs; even a noblewoman who married into another man’s family was given a few servants to take along as dowry, but Jing Beiyuan truly stepped into the threshold of his petulant lover’s home empty-handed. He expected that things would change when this happened, and thought to make himself useful in any way he could.

Yet, after the meeting with the figurative fatherin-law, the beauty was seated at home like a trophy, apparently not expected to lift even a finger. He had no objections to being treated as such, but the man could not help but wonder if something had happened when Wu Xi did not come by ever, despite how just about the entire entourage which returned to Nanjiang knew what position he occupied in Wu Xi’s heart. When they would not let him leave the house, Jing Beiyuan had to ask. His path was now alongside the fate of these people; he could not sit by idly if they were faced with any difficulties. Nu A Ha was quick to allay his concerns, having been assigned to Jing Beiyuan as his temporary steward in Ping An’s absence. “The Great Sorcerer is now taking the time to tend to the inheritance of his duties. The Great Sage was known far and wide. Now that the young Sorcerer has succeeded him, he has to visit other settlements to show himself as the next leader of our people. Before this, we were all in great hurry and there was no time for it…” The reason need not be said; Jing Beiyuan had already heard from the Great Sage’s mouth in person, Wu Xi returned for him. His haste was not only for the sake of aiding their nation, but also his loyal acquiescence to the urging of his heart. The beautiful man acutely felt the tenderness of the little venom’s affections for him, no matter what tempers he had shown. “But, if that was the case, he has no reason to keep me tucked away like an obedient little wife here,” Jing Beiyuan mused. Only taking care of some internal affairs; Wu Xi had already taken Jing Beiyuan home as his person, it can be said that the nobleman could no longer be considered an outsider to the affairs of Nanjiang. Being sheltered and pampered like this, unexpectedly Jing Beiyuan found himself taking offence. This feral child dared to snatch him, but would not share his burdens? Fortunately, his unhappiness was promptly dissuaded by the maidservant who was assigned to take care of his needs along with Nu A Ha. Wu Xi commanded great respect from his people, but no force on earth could contain the keen

eyes and sharp ears of a woman, much less their complex web of information. The maidservant, though new in service to Jing Beiyuan, was quite like any other servant girl of a household’s madame, grasping the latest gossip with ease. She leant down to whisper, but maintained a respectful distance, murmuring in a girlish lilt, “Lord, the Great Sorcerer has his reputation to hold up. He has brought a powerful lord home to these bountiful lands of Nanjiang, surely to reassure my lord of his unerring capabilities, the Great Sorcerer is doing his utmost to accomplish his duties at his fastest pace.” Jing Beiyuan could not help but lift an eyebrow. He was all too aware of women’s unique information network, and having a maidservant who was sensitive to rumours could very well come in handy. He could not help but shake his head and faked mockery, snorting, “Men, always wanting to appear awe-inspiring while hiding the sweat and blood they shed. Were I a woman to be kept behind doors, I would obediently wait for his glorious return. But I am clearly a man, I can read the way he thinks behind these acts; did the little venom think I wouldn’t be able to guess that he’s trying to make everything perfect for my arrival?” The blunt, straightforward child, trying to use such a typical move to impress him? He hid his chuckle behind his sleeves; almost unable to believe Wu Xi was capable of such flexibility. Nu A Ha was visibly relieved that the maidservant had enough tact to pacify Jing Beiyuan, for he was clumsy with words. He knew the true meaning behind the laced sarcasm; the former prince was actually aware of Wu Xi’s sincerity towards him, the Great Sorcerer wanting to give his best to the one who enchanted him. No longer feeling the need to be curious, Jing Beiyuan closed his eyes under the watchful care of his new servants, completely at ease with waiting for Wu Xi to come to him after his little affairs were tended to. It was about another week before Wu Xi returned to Jing Beiyuan, and this time, the man who had been cooped for so long was now being taken out and away. First keeping him at home for no one else to see and now bringing him out of human

settlement away from the prying eyes of others, the beauty was almost beginning to suspect Wu Xi was just wanting to have him all to himself. The Great Sorcerer had not even rested for a half a day before two horses laden with supplies were brought to the gates and he left with Jing Beiyuan in tow. “What is all this secrecy? Is there something that even your own people must not know about me?” Jing Beiyuan’s melodious voice delivered its harmless jab, but Wu Xi is ever earnest in his answer. As their steeds galloped along the lush prairies, his voice carried over the gentle breeze. “In due time, everyone will know who you are. Until then, I want to show you the lands I grew up in. I’ve settled all urgent matters; they should be fine without my presence for a few days.” The candid response sounded fairly simple, but for one as intelligent as the Nanning Prince, he easily deciphered the entire reason behind Wu Xi’s bizarre actions in recent times. The little venom had been working hard to resolve a lot of his current duties, just so that he could secure a few days of personal time to bring his beloved on a trip to explore Nanjiang. Jing Beiyuan’s lips curled up into a fond smile, his body leaning in dangerously close as he led his horse closer to Wu Xi’s side. “And here I was, thinking this time you were about to elope with me to another place.” Wu Xi choked on thin air, a veneer of crimson giving the matured young man the adolescent impression of an embarrassed youth. He angrily narrowed his eyes at his companion for the crass joke. “Don’t speak such silly words. You’re already h─…Well, you’re already here with me now. And I won’t let you go anywhere without me,” The young leader slipped mid-sentence but managed to deliver his warning, giving the rump of Jing Beiyuan’s horse a light slap. The steed whinnied and pulled away to a respectable distance once more. From being a calm leader of vast lands to being an easily flustered lover in an instant, Jing Beiyuan would not deny he was finding Wu Xi’s myriad of expressions so endearing. On the other hand, Wu Xi was wiping his cold sweat. He nearly blurted out the words he intended

to save for later but promptly switched in time. He had thrown himself into his role; though establishing his position was not hard given the Great Sage had declared the succession to their people, Wu Xi still had a lot to take over and familiarise himself with. He carefully kept Jing Beiyuan in utmost comfort at home, not wanting the latter to catch sight of his near desperate pace and also to keep the mischievous man out of any potential trouble. The Great Sorcerer made haste to finish the tasks he had at hand and additionally made arrangements so that his people would know what to do in the few days he would take his leave with his willing captive. Wu Xi always kept Jing Beiyuan’s gestures in his heart, and it had been the prince to introduce him to the vibrance of the capital when he first arrived in that foreign place. The young man desired to repay the favour by teaching Jing Beiyuan about his lands this time. A few days did not amount to much, therefore Wu Xi was only bringing him to one location. They still have countless days in their future to explore the rest of Nanjiang together; of that, Wu Xi was certain. The ride was uneventful, but Jing Beiyuan found himself wondering, when was the last time he ever strolled through the forests, with no burden in mind or heart to bear? His gaze and thoughts could take in his surroundings, and as the horses plodded along, blades of grass still wet with dew were crushed beneath their hooves. The fresh scent of foliage and damp grounds invaded his sense of smell, and the prince inadvertently thought, these were fertile lands. A scent which had no place in the stone structures of citadels, and one he had forgotten a long, long time ago, when the old soul once walked on all fours. The memory which should have been heartlessly carved into him, was now blurred by this serene moment with Wu Xi. Neither said a word, but Jing Beiyuan abruptly desired to spoil the young man, wondering how far they were going to travel until they made their stop for the day, so he could proceed with his mischief. The horses stopped once for water and Jing Beiyuan’s attempt to tease Wu Xi ended in failure, with the young man insisting he saved his stamina for

the trek. Traveling on horseback could be quite tiring so he, for once, obediently listened to Wu Xi. Seeing Jing Beiyuan in a fine mood, the youth made no reprimands for the deliberate lingering touches, and their ride continued.Their stop for the night was a little hut, apparently an old hunting outpost Wu Xi’s people used when the season arrived. But it was not the time to rest, not when Wu Xi took Jing Beiyuan deeper into the recesses of the rapidly darkening forest. He idly wondered if Wu Xi was bringing him along to capture some sort of rare animal to add to his collection, when the beautiful man noticed small flickering lights ahead where they came out close to a river. A small cluster of such lights peppered the dim shadows of the river area, as though the stars had fallen to earth and were scattered about. It took Jing Beiyuan some time before he snapped out of his fascinated staring, and turned to look at Wu Xi, who was looking back at him with a small upturned curve to his lips. “Do you like it?” “You wanted to show me this?” Wu Xi nodded. His dark eyes seemed to gleam in the dark, or was it the lights of the fireflies reflected in that strong gaze, Jing Beiyuan could not tell. “You’ve never left the capital, and even if you did before I met you, I don’t think you’ve seen this before. These lights can only grow far away from the lanterns of cities. Do you like it?” Jing Beiyuan’s voice caught in his throat for a moment at the repeated question. The former prince wanted to laugh at himself, such foolishness he had shown Wu Xi. When they met the Great Sage, this old soul could blabber something as grand as not knowing how vast the world was if one would not step out to look. Jing Beiyuan now clearly felt it; those words he uttered were also directed to himself. Seven lifetimes, yet his vision had always been so narrow. What world could he have known to speak of except his own, when his sight had nothing but a single person in it then? Jing Beiyuan had seen nothing but his own desires. The beautiful man was quiet for some time, causing some anxiousness to Wu Xi, but a soft

laughter soon disturbed the peace of the night, and Jing Beiyuan leant onto his shoulder, his faint murmur barely heard, “If poison were as sweet as you are, I would not hesitate to drink it down.” The young sorcerer did not really understand what he meant by that, but he could hear the yielding in the tone, and reflexively wrapped his arms around the beauty. “I wanted to show you the moment when the colony was fully alight, it would have been amazing to watch, but tonight is not a good night for it. We should go back now, since─” His words were interrupted when droplets of water sprinkled down onto Jing Beiyuan’s nose, catching the man off guard. Wu Xi almost laughed at the temporary surprise flashing across the usually profound expression he wore. Rain was falling, the reason why most of the fireflies were not as active tonight. He was about to help the man by his side get up when the other shook his head. “Only a light shower, I won’t fall sick from this. Let’s stay a little while longer.” Jing Beiyuan had only recovered from his injuries and should not take this risk, but against his better judgement, Wu Xi complied. He covered their heads with his cloak, and tucked the pale beauty into his arms to keep him out of the cold. “You know it will get harder to walk back once the rain ends.” “Then I’ll have to trouble the veteran of this forest to carry me out.” Jing Beiyuan responded to Wu Xi’s caution with a joke. Enveloped in warmth, the chill of the rain did nothing to dampen his mood, and the couple watched the few fireflies flash their distant luminance in a fleeting show which belonged only to them. In the end, despite the playful answer, Wu Xi really did hoist Jing Beiyuan onto his back all the way to the hunting outpost. The prince was again reminded that he ought not lightly joke around with his serious little venom, but feeling this broad back hold him up, Jing Beiyuan smiled to himself. Some teasing once in a while was not a bad idea if he could see more of Wu Xi’s sides he had yet to discover. Their trip continued under bright sunlight and adventurous winds, plants and birds showing off their vibrant petals and plumage. The lands of

Nanjiang were full of life, completely in a different way from the bustle of the capital. While he was accustomed to the lavishness of the capital he left behind, the former noble was easily entertained and much more interested in the unfettered nature of his new surroundings. As if it sensed the shifting attention, the little sable which had been riding on his shoulders rubbed its head under Jing Beiyuan’s chin in a coquettish manner. Tickled by both its fur and sticky behaviour, he rewarded the sable with a few pats. In the leg of today’s journey, they reached Wu Xi’s destination. They set up a temporary camp, nearby a rocky cliff. Their supplies were still abundant, but Wu Xi gathered some wild vegetables to add to their meal. Jing Beiyuan was originally not a fussy eater, but it would take him some time to get used to eating staples which were rarely found where he was. The sorcerer saw the noble still picking at his meals, not really wanting to carry on with the inevitable. “Beiyuan, you’re still recovering. You need to eat well to be healthy again,” Wu Xi pointed out. Though he glumly nodded, the beauty was brazened enough to add, “I’ll eat everything if you feed me.” The old fox really should have learnt his lesson, because Wu Xi really pulled him onto his lap and started picking up vegetables to feed him. This type of pampering was not as delightful as it should be; instead, it felt as though he was a child being coaxed by an adult. Feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment, Jing Beiyuan wisely shut up and finished his meal. He was soon lulled to sleep with his head resting on Wu Xi’s thigh, perhaps really more tired than he thought he was from the recuperation of his injuries. When he woke up again, it was already night. The entire time, Wu Xi had allowed him to be pillowed by his legs. The young man himself had also nodded off for a moment, trusting the sable and his snake to keep a lookout for them. He had only shortly woken up before Jing Beiyuan did, watching his beloved sleep until he stirred. “…I don’t suppose we’re going to be watching fireflies again tonight, are we?” He tentatively mentioned, hoping he did

not spoil any of Wu Xi’s plans to show him beautiful sceneries because of his nap. To his relief, the little venom shook his head. “Actually, you are on time. Come, Beiyuan.” Taking him by the hand, Wu Xi led Jing Beiyuan out of their camp, towards the cliff. In the view spread out before them was none of the vivacious colours the former prince had seen earlier in the day. But the scenery is no less beautiful. What he thought would be darkness, was a silver-lit forest expanding for miles ahead with mountains erected as though they were borders. Surely, beyond those peaks was the settlement where Wu Xi’s people lived. The night was cloudless, and the moon enchantingly bright. Its glow was captivating, illuminating them in a tranquil radiance. Trees appeared as if they were sculpted out of light, with shadows drawing the outlines of their silhouettes. Though the night was quiet, it was not unnatural. The sigh of the wind is faint, losing out to the croon of the unseen owls, and the muffled buzz of insects which only came alive in the dark. It took Jing Beiyuan’s breath away. By his side, Wu Xi remained woefully just out of sight, only his words carrying through. “The nights in Nanjiang may not compare to the liveliness of the capital, but in exchange, there is this sort of beauty that you will not find elsewhere. I come here sometimes, when I need a quiet place to think. And I wanted to show you what our lands look like. I wanted you to know…What home looks like to you from now on, Beiyuan.” Every syllable enunciated slowly to stop himself from betraying his nervousness, Wu Xi decided to bullishly forge on. He turned towards Jing Beiyuan, who stared in muted shock at him, plunging into this confrontation head-on. “The order was messed up, but it doesn’t change my intentions. I have inherited the responsibility to guard these lands, and they are ours to protect. It’s

our homeland…Because I brought you home to be my family. I promise I won’t let you down, and I’ll always protect and cherish you, Beiyuan, so this time, please…! Please, say that you will come with me.” It was not as if he did not know Jing Beiyuan was willing, but Wu Xi was stubborn as such, he could not be reassured until he got the exact word for it. He refused to let the beautiful man before him go, but in the end, he could not do anything which harmed or hurt the one who so firmly occupied the sole seat in his heart. Eyes which seemed ageless stared at him for a long time, driving the sorcerer to madness with suspense, and then Jing Beiyuan laughed. “Your order to a proper household was ruined because of my seduction, then I can only make up for it by being responsible. But to think you had the mind to be artful enough to persuade me with such a breath-taking view! Very well, Wu Xi my beauty, take me home.” How could there exist someone so brusque, but so clumsy and adorable? Jing Beiyuan really did not know what to do with this person, poisoned by his love down to his very bones. Wu Xi had always accounted for his presence, kept him as his utmost priority, being so stubborn yet so obliging of his selfishness. He could not make fun of the young man’s resolute desire to be entangled with him, and Wu Xi had already given his everything to resolve Jing Beiyuan’s convoluted connections, both past and future ones. What else had he to say, except he was ready at last, to go home with the one who had him enraptured? Seeing how dumbstruck Wu Xi looked, Jing Beiyuan wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and drew him close, wanting him to know he had not heard wrong. The soft chuckle tickled his ear, along with the surrender he wanted most. “Home, back to where we belong.”

山河 Shan He 表 Biao 里 Li 46

by: ineffablebfs 47

Act 2 Scene 2 Hyouka It took a few flights back and forth before Nan Shan finally got used to boarding an aircraft. Chu Huan found his childlike surprise utterly novel then, but at the same time was a little relieved his spouse could ride a plane without being overtly nervous about it any longer. Once, the stewardesses’ gazes were filled with sympathy and understanding, possibly taking pity on a country bumpkin who has never had the opportunity to see a modern machine, much less take a trip in one. Nowadays however, those gazes have become more furtive and calculative, as though they were sizing up a piece of meat. The man nearly marvelled at how the intensity just seemed to bounce off Nan Shan’s skin, though the lack of awareness was likely caused by how the man was always preoccupied with the view outside. Smiling to himself at the handsome man’s intense concentration at scenery beyond the window, Chu Huan could not help but reach out and tuck Nan Shan’s hair behind his ear, giving himself a better view of his husband’s profile. “You really like watching the view when we’re about to land, don’t you?” He understood Nan Shan’s amazement, seeing minute-sized objects slowly growing into buildings, vehicles, with a maze of little lines to indicate roads and segments of cities was certainly a sight to look at for someone who is so far out of touch with modern technology. His beautiful man nodded quietly, but there was a hint of solemn melancholy in his eyes. “…The sea is vast,” Nan Shan murmured. He touched the window panel, and his palm overlapped with an expanse of crystal clear blue. What would a mere human look like if they fell in; perhaps not even a single speck of black would appear on this sapphire canvas. As a man of the mountains, Nan Shan knew the vast power of nature. It could swallow them up any time, and his only memory of the sea continued to linger in the back of his mind, a constant warning of how he almost lost Chu Huan. The forlorn haze clouding his gaze seemed to alert Chu Huan to his thoughts, the man asking in a low voice, “Does the sea scare you?”

“…I do not feel good about it.” Nan Shan’s mastery of the national language was much better than before, but he could not find the right words to describe his apprehension towards those bottomless depths. The bespectacled man sitting beside him fell into contemplative silence. He knew what was bothering Nan Shan, and was not surprised by the deep-rooted ill impression. If one had to face incomprehensible calamity during their first encounter with the sea, even Chu Huan might have some lasting shadows in his heart. But it might not be a wise matter to allow the matter to fester in Nan Shan’s mind for too long, and modern man Chu Huan used all his experience to come up with a solution. Their next flight out was a surprise to Nan Shan, for it was not to Chu Huan’s hometown. The taxi dropped them off at a gravel road, leading down to a place which Nan Shan’s sight cannot yet catch. From a distance however, there was an unusual sound; if Nan Shan had to describe it, it was like a low roar, a little similar to the crashing sounds of a waterfall hitting rocks. With a luggage bag in one hand, Chu Huan caught Nan Shan’s idle hand in another and started pulling him along the gravel road. The couple walked for about ten minutes before they came out to a clearing of sandy ground, and before their eyes, a barely visible horizon stretched out from one end to another, the caerulean of the sea and sky matching in harmonious tones. “Take off your shoes and carry it in your hand, Nan Shan. Let’s go for a walk along the beach first.” Without waiting for an affirmative, Chu Huan kicked off his own sandals and stuffed them into the side pocket of the luggage bag and began walking towards the edge of the sea. Nan Shan hurriedly did as told before he was left behind, catching the man’s hand just before he stepped along the shore. The world outside did not have the dangers the tribe leader expected, this he knew, yet he was wary of letting Chu Huan step into the lapping folds of water which came and went. Chu Huan’s eyes held an amused glint behind those glasses, and he gently tugged at Nan Shan’s hand, until they were both standing along the borders of wet sand. Nan Shan looked at him in confusion, not sure

what he was trying to do, until he started at the sudden sensation of water enveloping his feet, coming up well over his ankles. Chu Huan finally laughed, and began to speak in a candid tone. “Beaches can make quite a sum of money, especially during the popular season. Right now it’s off-peak, so there’s not many people around here. Swimming in the sea, playing sea sports, frolicking in the sands; it’s almost irritating how big a crowd can turn up at times. I like it better this way, no one but us and the sound of the waves.” For a moment, Chu Huan remained silent, his fingers intricately locked with Nan Shan’s. The tribe leader was not sure what he wanted to do, opting to stand by the bespectacled man’s side as they stared out into the glittering blue expanse. After getting used to the water rolling in and over his feet, drawing little streams of sand all over, Nan Shan’s guard eased a little. The low roar of the waves was really a nice sound now that he had the leisure to listen, rather different from the whistle of the wind weaving through the branches and verdure of the mountains. The air blowing from beyond the waters was a little sticky, lending a heavier touch to his skin. It was a sensation he first experienced, though it would be the second time he stood before a sea. “Chu Huan, you like the sea?” “I don’t have a preference to speak of, but well, I guess I am familiar with it in some ways.” It was not often, but there were the occasional boat chases and adrenaline-consuming incidents in the line of his job. Chu Huan wisely chose not to mention it, lest his overly protective husband became determined to keep him at home in a safe. “Come, we’re not going to just stare at it the whole day.” They walked further along until they arrived at a dock with several boats. Nan Shan waited patiently for whatever business Chu Huan had with the person managing the docks, taking in the foreign view. He was slowly beginning to understand that perhaps his spouse was trying to help him overcome his indescribable discomfort towards the massive unknown they once confronted. When Chu Huan came out of the little office, he was greeted by Nan Shan’s firm embrace. A little

tickled by the long hair brushing against his cheeks, Chu Huan peered into that handsome face in confusion. “Nan Shan?” “…You really are so kind. You are special, I especially adore you.” Nan Shan’s words were clumsy, but his deep voice was warm, infused with lingering affection. Chu Huan felt so helpless every time Nan Shan said these words, as though he was such a fine character when he was anything but. He fiddled with the rim of his glasses, a little embarrassed by the tribe leader’s straightforward confession. “You can save those words for later, come now.” Chu Huan diverted the conversation, taking Nan Shan towards a yacht instead. The bareboat charter meant that there was no skipper to be in charge of the yacht, but Chu Huan’s extensive history in his job meant he certainly had more than a few skills up his sleeves, and that included sailing this boat. “Where are we going?” Nan Shan’s reaction was calmer now, the usual bit of curiosity having returned to him. Once he became comfortable with the idea, the tribe leader became more interested in their surroundings. This innocent inquisitive expression made the man look ever more charming, but Chu Huan was not about to sing his praises out loud. He did not have really deep intentions, only looking for a way to help Nan Shan feel better. The whole yacht idea was an advice Chu Huan got after an anonymous discussion on relationship forums. It helped that he had all the technical skills needed for it, so there was nobody except them both, nicer that way. He was certain if anyone else came with them as crew, they would be too busy staring at his man to do anything. “I don’t have a concrete plan in mind, I just wanted to take you out for a drive, but on a yacht instead of a car. Now that we’re going out to sea, let’s head out to shallow areas. If we’re lucky, the water could be clear enough for you to see into it. Some good snorkelling spots are out there too so the view should be good.” Before he met Nan Shan, Chu Huan probably did not know leisure was something achievable beyond

spending his time in a room of ugly sofas and a bed nailed to the floor. He was not oblivious, only, perhaps he felt he could find no one who made him feel this idyllic pace was worth slowing down for. And now, he found it in the beautiful man who stood beside him, marvelling at the colourful fishes they could see within the crystalline waters. Chu Huan silently thanked the good weather for giving Nan Shan respite. They spent the day really only loitering about the shallows, watching fishes and admiring coral. Chu Huan was no walking dictionary, a little regretful he did not think to buy a guide or those colourful fish encyclopaedia for children, but he has always found Nan Shan’s earnest curiosity very cute. As the tribe leader quizzed him about the colourful fishes below, Chu Huan, for once, answered in honesty without slipping in a tease or two. He learnt his lesson by now after that little joke about being penniless spectacularly backfired on him. Seeing new things always invigorated the man who wanted to build his knowledge of the outside world, and even though Chu Huan could not answer all his questions, Nan Shan was contented with watching how his partner seemed to relax as well. Chu Huan’s quiet chuckle immensely pleased Nan Shan when he used the winds to send their yacht cutting through the waters smoothly. There was no space for them to go anywhere on this tiny boat, but it brought about a different sense of freedom than riding a horse through the mountains. There was even a tiny kitchenette for Chu Huan to make them a simple meal, but Nan Shan was never in want for more when he was with his beloved. Sun soon set, and the skies darkened with bright burning sparks scattered like dust across an inky canvas. If not for the gentle ripple of the water’s surface, the sea would have made a fine mirror of the sky, and they would have been swallowed in an ocean of stars. Nan Shan thought they would be returning to shore and finding a hotel to stay in, but Chu Huan brought the yacht into a sheltered cove instead, intending to spend the night on the waters. “Chu Huan, are you sure it’s safe?” The man instinctively worried for his safety, his protective

nature all but roused at the thought of passing a night in unknown territory. Though they were already anchored in a safe cove, Chu Huan remembered to install other precautions to reduce Nan Shan’s concern about any night-time accidents. After setting the necessary lighting on deck to signal the presence of their yacht to other possible seafarers, Chu Huan led Nan Shan down back into the cabin and turned off all other illuminations. He rolled into the inner side of their bunk, and pat on the empty half in invitation. Despite the wariness, Nan Shan obediently got into bed and held Chu Huan tightly, as though he was ready to protect him the moment anything untoward happened. The man who was being hugged put away his spectacles before he tucked Nan Shan’s head into the crook of his neck, patting the back of his waist unhurriedly like he was coaxing a child to sleep. “You don’t need to fret; in these kinds of situations, I am not helpless. Believe in your spouse a bit more, would you?” Chu Huan muttered, another hand wound around Nan Shan’s back. “There is nothing to be afraid of, maybe except some boating accidents, but that isn’t something to give yourself frown lines over.” He continued to soothe Nan Shan, who seemed to be provoked once more by the darkness he had just buried in his chest earlier this day. “It’s nothing but us in here…You can hear the water, gently lapping around the boat. Close your eyes, and feel the waves slowly rocking us like a cradle. If the sea still scares you, then listen to me breathe. I am here with you.” It was the first instance that Chu Huan mentioned his partner’s discomfort of the sea outright. Nan Shan found himself confronting his unnamed restlessness, but the last sentence Chu Huan reassured him with brought clarity to the tribe leader at last. As a guardian of the mountains, Nan Shan knew very well how terrible the force of nature could be, the sea was no exception. Yet even in the direst of conditions, the mountain was firm earth; one could stand and pull themselves together. But in the sea, in the very same serene darkness they had just witnessed, laid a vast umbra of desolation,

where there was naught to grasp and nothing to hold on to for a person so small as he was in this world. Nan Shan was not scared of the sea. He was vexed by his helplessness, and his inevitable decision which once cut Chu Huan off. The tribe leader was reminded of the cavity in his chest, the intrinsic fear of losing this precious person again needlessly stirred when he saw this alien body of water. Chu Huan might not have seen through his worries; nonetheless, his efforts have borne the best results. The sound and motion of the sea lulled them like a gentle mother, and safe in her embrace, Nan Shan held Chu Huan. Neither current nor inexorability will take this man away from him. Chu Huan’s form, the heat radiating off his skin, the thrumming of a heartbeat against his own chest and the whisper of his breathing, they were all carefully ensconced within his arms. Nan Shan could finally hold Chu Huan tightly amidst this blanket of water and break away from his formless nightmare. The glimmer of the following sunrise over the horizon was so beautiful, by the time they were on the plane home, Nan Shan actually thought it was a bit too short, his sea getaway with Chu Huan. The slightly woeful expression did not escape Chu Huan’s scrutiny. “You like it so much now?” He found the courage to tease his spouse once more, but to his surprise, the tribe leader nodded in agreement. It was a stark contrast to the day before. “It’s a place where you made beautiful memories with me, Chu Huan. I treasure every place where you gave me fond thoughts.” The frankness made Chu Huan’s voice stuck in his throat for a while, before the embarrassed man finally took something out of his hand luggage and gave it to Nan Shan. It was quite large, easily filling his palm. The object was quite a big and very pretty conch shell. Still not trusting himself to speak yet, Chu Huan motioned for him to put the shell by his ear. Nan Shan’s eyes imperceptibly widened, hearing the sound of waves echoing inside this small object. That face of surprise satisfied Chu Huan, who impulsively thought he got back at the man for spouting such frank words. “I didn’t think you’d like it so much. You can have that souvenir. I thought I’d

get it for the kids who won’t see the oceans anytime soon. This way, you can hear it any time you want.” A piece of the sea sounded like a grand present, when Chu Huan thought of it in that manner. “I’ll explain why you can hear it inside later, but the sounds of the waves change if you blow different kinds of wind into it,” the additional information almost sailed over Nan Shan’s head. Living in clandestine conditions with his tribe, the man was aware that there were other worlds out there, different gates showing different views. Yet, through a single person, Nan Shan came into touch with even more sights he had never seen or thought about before. Chu Huan shared his world with him, and took him out to experience more, giving Nan Shan a wealth of intangible treasures. His chest was sour from the weight of his affection, but no words could convey the ardour Chu Huan roused in him. He gave up trying to speak; Nan Shan pulled Chu Huan towards him and warm lips covered the latter’s own. Chu Huan was surprised by the sudden motion, but he sat there dumbly and allowed Nan Shan his outburst. When the man pulled away, his voice was shaky, the gentle curves of his brows furrowed as though he was enduring some form of agony. Chu Huan’s hands were wrapped in a strong grip by Nan Shan’s fingers. Though the tribe leader appeared to be in dire straits, Chu Huan knew he had no need to worry when words finally came from Nan Shan, in his most primal use of language. “Chu Huan…Vast lands and seas, I will overcome. For you, my life. An eternity of joy, I swear.” The bespectacled man almost smiled helplessly at the garbled speech. Instead, he brought Nan Shan’s fingers to his lips. “Then you don’t have to look like you’re about to cry. I know how far you’re willing to go for me. Let me promise the same, Nan Shan. We already have spoken the oath for our lifetime.” A simple trip to the sea, and the little world in a seashell brought them both closer to each other. – My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite – William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet.

残 Can 次 Ci 品 Pin

by: matchasakura2

by: Koku

A Straight Line Hyouka It was very rare for Lu Bixing to indulge an artistic curiosity, considering he hardly had leisure time any longer. What little free time he had, he was constantly using it to tinker around, deepening his knowledge in his craft and picking up new tricks in the role he shouldered. It was pure coincidence and a touch of whim which drove Lu Bixing’s original inquisitive nature. The venture began when he chanced upon Zhanlu busying himself with a terminal. “Oh? Zhanlu, what are you up to?” The AI looked up at him, his expression ever serene. “I am updating the archives, sir. In order to enhance my understanding of human nature, I require massive data. One of your students suggested going back to the roots of the human race, therefore I am now going through Ancient Earth history and its culture.” The mention of Ancient Earth reminded Lu Bixing of the pirates who advocated anti-technology, but at the same time, helped the young man recall that he pretty much had no deep knowledge of the matter behind their ideology. He was, after all, a product of numbers and technology, and his pursuits have never strayed far from his origins. Occasionally, he had to wonder how an AI could possess such zeal in improving their human understanding until it took the initiative to do something like this. Lu Bixing cast an absent-minded glance towards the data being reviewed within the terminal Zhanlu was currently connected to. “…Why are you looking up dances?” Growing up in the rowdy Eighth Galaxy, the only form of dancing Lu Bixing has ever known was the crazed, adrenaline-fuelled body shaking or the lopsided swaying of drunks. In short, the mindless bodily reaction of savages. Of course, Zhanlu with his there-yet-not-quite-there level of emotional intelligence was not aware of the man’s thoughts, faithfully answering, “Before written language and speech were developed, humankind have communicated via bodily gestures. The study of body language is vital to comprehending non-verbal cues

of communication. Dance is said to be one of the oldest forms of such exchanges; with certain habits refined and retained over centuries of human evolution, it stands to reason for me to analyse the relevant patterns throughout the history of dancing.” Lu Bixing was certain Zhanlu was being very earnest, and also pretty sure this was not quite the right way to go about it. But the part about catching unspoken communication cues caught his attention, and it was highly probable that the AI’s lessons revolved around trying to understand his other difficult owner, Lin Jingheng. While he was far from being unscrupulous, Lu Bixing’s heart would always be tugged into a certain direction when it involved the latter. Becoming decidedly more interested, he peered at the terminal once more. “Oh, the First Galaxy still practices dancing?” A young man raised by Monoeye Hawk, it could be considered a small miracle Lu Bixing did not grow up to be a carbon copy of his bad habits, though he was not familiar enough with the culture of the First Galaxy to be considered of refined upbringing. “Trained dancing is considered competitive sports, although the practice for competition has since declined, and is thought of now mostly as a leisure activity. As a result, the number of serious and consistent practitioners are comparably low even among the residents of First Galaxy, as it requires a number of hours put into training. In particular for paired dancing, the presence of a training partner is vital. The common dances include quickstep, waltz, foxtrot, tango…” Zhanlu’s monotonous voice continued in a litany of factual presentation, but Lu Bixing was not paying attention. His gaze was particularly engrossed with the videos the AI pulled up as he described each form like an online dictionary. Zhanlu made the artistic activity sound very mundane, but the former headmaster was beginning to form a strange idea in his head. It would be an utter waste of time, he had better things to do than this, and all sorts of logical excuses surfaced to his mind, but they were shot down with the desire to accomplish a single purpose.

“Say, Zhanlu…How many hours would a standard adult male require on average to master the basic steps?” Lin Jingheng was precise like clockwork, closer to a machine than flesh-and-blood human being in this aspect. While he did not give a damn about the schedules of other people, he expected them to adhere to punctuality, especially when it involved official business. It was quite the coincidence that the man he lived with had a schedule which he knew inside-out, both his work and personal life mapped out clearly for Lin Jingheng to see. Even if Lu Bixing did not consciously inform him, Zhanlu kept track of everything and updated him. The same applied to Lin Jingheng; he gave Lu Bixing a clear grasp on his movements. Whether Lu Bixing monitored him or not was not crucial. It served as a token of his frankness, regardless of how flimsy it appeared to be. He failed to be punctual once; he really could not afford to let it happen again. He kept to his hours faithfully, never once failing to inform if there were changes, although there were none to speak of. Only, Lin Jingheng did not expect Lu Bixing to develop a pocket of time when he would be readily absent, out of sight and sound. One would have worried endlessly if it were not for the fact that Zhanlu was also notably missing, without a doubt accompanying his master. “I have something to do, you can go ahead and sleep first,” Lu Bixing’s tone was upbeat, reminiscent of the earlier years of their acquaintance. Lin Jingheng did not give it much thought, thinking the latter had some unfinished business to wrap up. He was quick to notice Lu Bixing disappeared for an hour every day before he went to bed. Frankly speaking, it was unsettling for Lin Jingheng to see him so secretive, not realising he was merely a pot calling a kettle black. The man did what he did best, try to find out what Lu Bixing was up to. He conveniently caught Zhanlu and mercilessly demanded the facts from this accomplice. “I apologise, sir. Headmaster Lu has specifically restricted my autonomy in regards to this query. I am unable to answer. Headmaster Lu has said he would

like to be the one to inform you when the time comes.” The immovable heart of Lin Jingheng lurched at the revelation of this deliberate concealment. What terrible plan or thought did Lu Bixing harbour for him to even forbid Zhanlu from speaking of it? He trusted the young man, but at the same time, Lin Jingheng could not deny the subconscious anxiety from how unpredictable Lu Bixing could be at times. It was an unpleasant sensation, but only the brazen man could stir his emotions in such a manner. This youth surnamed Lu could so easily touch his core, and still the man could be so uncertain of where Lin Jingheng’s heart truly laid. But it was not in Lin Jingheng’s nature to shirk; he would rather confront it head-on than let his doubts fester. If Lu Bixing was prepared to tell him when it was the right moment, there was nothing wrong with him trying to get it out of Lu Bixing earlier. The boy could very well try to hide it from him, but he has nowhere to run. Just half an hour later, Lu Bixing found himself stuck between the wall and one Lin Jingheng, the atmosphere quite ambiguous and suggestive if it were not for the latter’s stern expression. “Spit it out; what have you been doing?” With Lin Jingheng’s observant nature, it came as no surprise he suspected something was amiss. Lu Bixing however, was clear of conscience, managing a smile even as he fought with his impulse to sneak an arm around the man’s waist. “Nothing to warrant the supreme commander’s concern, don’t worry. Let’s just say I’m trying out a new hobby?” The dodgy answer was not entirely satisfactory, and Lin Jingheng let him know by glowering at him. The young man only shrugged noncommittally. “Well, if I put some serious effort into it, I suppose it could be considered a healthy activity? Give me some time, Lin; I’ll be ready to surprise you in a few more days!” The hard stare did not let up just yet, Lin Jingheng’s fingers tightening its grasp on Lu Bixing’s arm. But the youthful smile upon the handsome man’s face brought back memories of their earlier years, a rare glimpse into the past. He drew a quiet,

deep breath, before finally letting go. There was still nothing to be so worked up over other than his own unfounded apprehension. Lin Jingheng gracefully withdrew, in contrast to his tempestuous attempt to corner Lu Bixing earlier, reminding himself that he too, needed to show his trust in his man. “Do as you like,” it was the best effort he could muster in exchange of silent acquiescence. Lu Bixing promptly nodded in return, the nostalgic smile a little blinding to the older man. He really had no reason to worry; Lu Bixing made good on his word and brought Lin Jingheng to one of the workshops he used for tinkering. The space was suspiciously neat for an avid engineer like him, so it ruled out the surprise being anything mechanical in nature. “How fast can you master a step-by-step physical manoeuvre, with a difficulty of three on the scale of one to ten?” The question made Lin Jingheng raise an eyebrow, wondering if the latter was actually making some secret plans which needed him to learn a specialised motion. “Is it urgent? I can have it memorised within thirty minutes.” Lu Bixing helplessly chuckled at the response, shaking his head at the same time. “My dear commander, it really isn’t a big deal. Here.” He took a step right into Lin Jingheng’s personal space, capturing one of his hands as he positioned the other on his upper arm. As he slid his hand along the sleek shoulder blade, Lin Jingheng could not help but stare incredulously at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” “It can’t be, you really don’t know?” “I know what it is, that’s why I’m asking.” He cannot possibly be serious; Lin Jingheng almost refused to believe Lu Bixing had been secretly hiding away and even ordered Zhanlu not to speak simply because he was dancing. Which part of this would consist as a surprise, he truly had nary a clue, expect for the fact that it really surprised the man that something so trivial was treated as a top secret. That coy smile was still playing about Lu Bixing’s lips, even as he admitted, “See, it wasn’t anything worth frowning over, was it? I was just thinking, we could do with a little bit more of socialising, but our tastes

are generally quite different, so I figured why not try to learn something new together?” Lin Jinheng’s lips were pursed, mentally berating himself for forgetting Lu Bixing was exactly this sort of person. This honesty towards his impulses and curiosity towards the most inconsequential of things at times, he was really overthinking things. The man’s life was a mess before Lin Jingheng returned, and it still was considering what he had to deal with in his position, but he still found the time to cook up such nonsense. Yet any word of reprimand died before they left his lips. This brazen playfulness was one of the aspects which defined Lu Bixing to Lin Jingheng. “Do you realise you’re contradicting yourself?” Instead, the commander drew out a different point to argue. He would let Lu Bixing have this one whim. Seeing the young man cock his head almost innocently, Lin Jingheng resisted the urge to walk away on the spot and further deadpanned, “You talk of learning something together, but you’ve been secretly hiding and practising with Zhanlu. What’s the point of asking me then?” “You said so yourself, you could probably master the moves in a short time. Wouldn’t it be better if I slowly taught you and made full use of this period? Can’t let my title as a teacher go to waste,” Lu Bixing’s cheery answer was quite flimsy. Really, he just wanted to be the one in the guiding role this time and see Lin Jingheng play the part of a novice under his tutelage. Lu Bixing was certain his partner saw through his excuses, prepared to be yelled at. In the end however, Lin Jingheng’s grip on his hand tightened, and his back straightened up. Of course, he could tell there was something beyond this seemingly ridiculous use of time when both of them had other important matters to attend to. But Lu Bixing was trying to reach out in his own ways, and he even made secret preparations. So silly, yet so endearing. It was only natural for Lin Jingheng to reach back and meet him halfway. After all, there was an old saying which was appropriate for this situation; it takes two to tango. And Lin Jingheng’s sole partner was Lu Bixing. “Then I will have to trouble Headmaster Lu to

guide me.” From the hold of their hands, to the perch on Lu Bixing’s arm and the touch of Lin Jingheng’s back. Each preparation trivial, but a necessary point of connection, and this was only the basic setup before any exchange of their body language could occur. His mind, strung with nervous energy, vaguely recalled an old philosopher once saying a straight line was the shortest distance between two points, and Lu Bixing used dancing to bridge this line. He unexpectedly found some truth in Zhanlu’s words; he saw a bit of similarity in learning to dance with learning to communicate. He had formed these gradual connections to Lin Jingheng, and even if the years abraded these precious things, one never truly forgot

a practised habit. With uncertainty and fear of failure, they scrabbled about old ways and tried to reconcile it with new methods, but the memories of old would always be there to remind them that it was worth the effort. Zhanlu’s unexpected observations bore fruit in a way the AI likely would never know. While he genuinely did want to do something that neither of them had ever done together to get to know each other better, there was also a small impure satisfaction of having an excuse to hold Lin Jingheng close for a long time. Lu Bixing’s smile softened, “Shall we dance, Jingheng?”

过 Guo 门 Men 62

in rapture and in woe Cece They say dreams are the manifestation of repressed longing, of desires that can’t be expressed in daily life. Maybe that was why Xu Xilin dreamed about his youth so often, especially the memories he had with Dou Xun. In his dream, he was 19 again, stuffed in between his closet and bed, the tight space couldn’t fit even one growing adolescent boy. And yet there they were, stacked on top of each other to hide from the blinding light and peeping eyes, almost too tight for comfort but better the dark and somber bathroom. They would always fight who got to be on top because whoever ended up in the bottom would be squished from all sides, and Dou Xun almost always won, having the edge over physicality from all the martial arts training. That day was one of the rare occasions when Xu Xilin took the advantage to push Dou Xun onto the blankets when he missed his footings and plopped on top before he had the chance to recover. Dou Xun made a punched out noise as Xu Xilin landed with a loud thud onto him, but his groan was cut off short with Xu Xilin pinching his cheeks and kissing his lips. He responded with gusto, his hands flew up to hold Xu Xilin’s head in place as he deepened the kiss. Dou Xun’s kisses were always so passionate, so forceful, he treated every time like the first and the last. Xu Xilin was kissed till he was out of breath, his head dizzy with the lack of air, but the last thing he wanted was those lips to be anywhere but on his. A breathless moment later, they parted, and a conversation sprung, as they always talked about everything, from university life to business stuff to nonsensical things that were long gone from his memory by this point, because all that was left on his mind was fingers carding through his hair, bright and brilliant eyes that twinkled with a smile, the pleasant warmth under him. They all turned his mind into a puddle, that all came out of his mouth was mindless

things, but thankfully, Dou Xun didn’t mind because so was he. Grandma was home, so they had to be careful and discreet, but they were just two hot-blooded youngsters that got in over their heads until their laughs were too loud and there were sounds downstairs, and Xu Xilin would hide his snickers between the dip of Dou Xun’s neck, feeling the slight tremble of the person below him and knowing that he too was suppressing his laughs and failing at it. Back in those days, it was a thrilling moment; like they were hiding a secret no one knew about, like it was one those action spy movies they loved watching. Dou Xun turned to give him a kiss on the cheek, and they stayed in the embrace quietly, waiting for the movement downstairs to settle, the silence jittery but exciting, nevertheless. The sunlight dripped in through the windows, painting the room with a golden color like soft sand, the warmth bounced off the wall and settled on them, making it almost unbearably hot and difficult to breathe, but it was a type of discomfort he was willing to endure. For a while, that was enough. That was all Xu Xilin had needed. When Xu Xilin opened his eyes again, the golden sunlight had been replaced with a darkened sky, the little light from the moon outside which came through neglected windows illuminated the room just enough to see the shadows, in place of warmth was a dawning coldness, the softness in his chest replaced with a stabbing pain in his stomach that woke him up. He had fallen asleep on the couch after coming back from work, and the weather had always been unpredictable during the fall, because the room was freezing cold although no windows were opened. Xu Xilin’s thought went to the loss of warmth and of a person who had been right below him. In the mind that was still clouded with sleepiness, he wondered disorientedly. Where was his Dou Xun? It took him staring at the ceiling for a minute before realizing, Dou Xun had been far away for years, pushed away by him, no longer ‘his’ Dou Xun

to call. Nevertheless, the dream brought up memories that came back like water through a broken dam. Dou Xun’s emotions had always laid so bare, so unafraid of being vulnerable. It was a youthful age where everyone had a hallucination of invincibility, and he was no exception, if not more so with his hard-headedness and insistence. That bare and open expression when Xu Xilin had called an end to what they had, that unhidden fear and brokenness in his eyes that Xu Xilin couldn't forget after so many years, as if it had just been yesterday. The name was on his lips that Xu Xilin wanted to repeat again and again, but he didn’t dare to say it, fearing it would be the knife that cut all the strings that had held him together. He had always kept himself busy with work to keep the thoughts away, but when it came to sleepless nights laced with dull pains that were now his familiar friend, he had no way of stopping all the memories flooding back. The night felt especially fuzzy, and he could barely make sense of his surroundings in this state. It was as if the freezing cold was coming from his body, but Xu Xilin welcomed the distraction, nevertheless, trying to focus on the light-headedness it gave him instead of the sharp pain in his heart. Xu Xilin must have hallucinated in that hazy moment, because there was almost a voice calling his name, one so familiar yet it was not, that it must have been his wistful mind playing tricks on him. His face was patted softly by warm hands, the voice was louder this time, and Xu Xilin shook into wakefulness. The sun was teetering, the early morning light was streaming through the thin curtain, and he was on the bed instead of the couch of his lonely house. Well, not lonely anymore, because Dou Xun was here, inches away from Xu Xilin, his face laced with worry as his hand was on Xu Xilin’s cheek. “Are you okay? You caught a fever.” “Ah.” Xu Xilin mused, his voice nasal. That explained the fumbled dream. “Did I do anything weird?”

“You called my name.” Dou Xun said quietly, his fingers still tracing his skin, and Xu Xilin belatedly realized they were wet. He merely smiled and stretched out his arms around Dou Xun’s neck and tried to pull him in. “Dou Xianer, your sense of presence is too strong, I can even see you in my dreams.” Dou Xun wasn't fazed by the tease and merely clapped Xu Xilin’s forehead before he left to get the medications. After Dou Xun moved in, Xu Xilin’s house was like a house again, with food filling the fridge and unexpired medications, and patient Xu Xilin was well taken care of with Dr. Dou Xun who was overqualified for this. “It was all because of Lao Ye’s terrible luck.” Xu Xilin sighed exaggeratedly. “But also, who told you running out in the middle of the rain is a good idea!?” Dr. Dou Xun who was carefully wiping down his sweats heard this and slapped the towel on him. “Stay quiet, your fever is so high already, stop acting so nonchalant.” Then maybe Dou Xun did think that it was his fault, so after Xu Xilin was wiped down and took the medications, Dou Xun bent down to kiss his forehead. Xu Xilin took the opportunity to hook on Dou Xun’s waist and pulled him down on the mattress, his headache panged as the world tumbled in his movement. But Dou Xun was caught off guard underneath him with a gaping face, and Xu Xilin felt like he was 19 again, fumbling around with the boy he loved in the little cocoon Xu Jin had teased him about. He landed on Dou Xun with a thud, and in the midst of the throbbing pain and Dou Xun yelling at him in horror for being an idiot, Xu Xilin was hit with the realization: They didn’t have to scurry in between the tight and humid hole between his bed and his closet anymore, they could be loud if they wanted to, not only at home but when they were out with friends, and their closest friends wouldn’t have minded. This was no longer a secret. Xu Xilin had never felt so glad to know he could hold Dou Xun without hiding anymore.

Maybe the fever dreams were overwhelming, maybe it was the cold getting to him, but as soon as realization settled, the corner of Xu Xilin’s eyes burned hotly, and his voice carried a nasal sound when he spoke a moment later. “You made me feel so tired in the dream, pay up, and lay there. Maybe I can get you sick too and we can get two days off.” Usually, Dou Xun would have scolded at his selfnegligent attitude at times like this, but he still remembered the quiet whispers of his name on Xu

Xilin’s lips, the watery touch on his fingers stuck with him like glue, so Dou Xun merely sighed and kissed the wet hair, never having the words to what he felt. True to Xu Xilin’s wishes, when he got a bit better the next day, Dou Xun came down with the cold, which gave the lazy gremlin Xu Xilin an excuse to ask off from work again and snuggle happily in bed, all the while ignoring Dou Xun’s exasperated complaints about getting sick, and life was like a dream.

兽丛 Shou Cong 之 Zhi Dao 刀 66

by: CMB 67

by: CMB 68

天 Tian 涯 Ya Ke 客 69

默 Mo Du 读 71

by: Carm

Grotesque Cecentre He was a broken goods. This didn’t come from a self-confidence issue or an exaggeration, but a mere factual statement. He didn't feel empathy for others, he looked at victims of tragic cases and took it as an opportunity to bring them to his side for his greater scheme. He talked about the dirtiest and most deranged criminal ideas that made people’s stomach churn without batting an eye, and he knew the way they thought as if it was he himself. His empathy was as low as that of a rock, and if not for his own way of correcting himself periodically, he would have turned into what Fei Chengyu wanted him to be. Regardless of what he did, however, his genetic disposition along with Fei Chengyu’s training undoubtedly made him something less than human. Fei Chengyu wanted to make Fei Du a monster like he was, his mother made sure he wouldn’t become one even if that meant to scare him out of it, and his enemy saw him as the vision of Fei Chengyu’s masterpiece coming to life. Every day he went about his life wearing a layer of human skin and watched how humans act like an alien observing from the outside. No matter how much he tried, this outer layer was still fake, as if he was walking around with a pair of unfit shoes. However, he still played his human role perfectly: a flamboyant playboy, a merciless young CEO coming into power, a bright and well-mannered young man, he could assume any role, be it gods or demons, he could fit into any place. Except in Luo Wenzhou’s two-bedrooms apartment. Luo Wenzhou didn't expect him to be anything but focused on recovering, and any roles he attempted would be called out and shut down. Luo Wenzhou had seen him at his lowest sitting on the doorsteps when he was a useless child being nothing but a burden; at his worst when they didn't see eye to eye and his stupid self flashing the PSP around like a prize, not knowing who had given it to him to begin with; and at his barest when he repea-

tedly showed Luo Wenzhou who he was and what he was capable of, from his association with the Organization to having his own dark plots in his sleeves. Yet despite all of it, somehow Luo Wenzhou still saw him, the him he didn't even know existed. So he became more him: the him that liked to indulge Luo Wenzhou but also tease him endlessly and watch that handsome face reddened out of anger or embarrassment, the him that woke up early in the morning to feed Luo Yiguo as he waited for Luo Wenzhou to slam the bedroom door open on his scramble to work the way people read newspaper as a morning ritual, the him that was still flustered by Mu Xiaoqing, not forgetting his embarrassing first meeting with her, the him who could finally give into his laziness and laidback self and not have to assume that second generation rich boys’ party lifestyle. It didn't mean the past went away. At times, he still ached to feel the pain again just so he could be more in control of his immoral mind, still chose to dive headfirst into danger like a second nature, and the nightmares still came to haunt him in his sleep, keeping him up at night. At least these moments were easier to deal with, when Luo Wenzhou was down to earth like an anchor that kept him grounded on the mundane things that were work and finance and business meetings and housework and cats, or when he would wake up to a pair of strong arms hugging his side and the even breathing calmed his raging heart. At times like these, Fei Du felt this was the normalcy he could achieve. He knew Luo Wenzhou was on edge about his recklessness. Luo Wenzhou wasn’t a secretive person when it came to feelings, so he was told quickly and early after things had ended and the bad people were caught. He made a promise with all the sincerity in his heart but also fell short of it, and despite Luo Wenzhou’s hot-headedness and explosive personality on the surface, he was forgiving and patient, giving Fei Du all the time he needed. That didn't mean Luo Wenzhou stopped thinking about it, and at times he would find Luo Wenzhou being lost in thoughts as he looked at him.

Like that one night when they were too lazy to get out of bed, when he was lulled to sleep with the warm press of the blanket against him and Luo Wenzhou’s fingers were combing through his hair, but he fought the urge to close his eyes to stare at how Luo Wenzhou’s features also softened by sleepiness. The days they could lay quietly in each other’s presence like this were rare and few in between, as they were either chatting and teasing energetically about who-know-what, too tired to stay awake for more than a second, or have more active things to do in bed than staring at each other in silence. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it immensely. Then Luo Wenzhou had a sort of faraway look, a crease appeared between his eyebrows, and Fei Du reached out to smooth it over with his finger. “Don't stress about work now, it's bedtime.” He said, surprised at the tinge of roughness that sleep weaved into his voice. “I'm not stressed about work. I'm thinking about you.” Luo Wenzhou responded, the hoarse voice mirrored his own, and he would have laughed at them for being unreasonably headstrong to stay up now if not for the implications behind those words. As expected, Luo Wenzhou continued-- He was never one to leave Fei Du guessing: “It’s good that you’re not in denial about things that had happened, but this is just the beginning, not the end. Therapy isn't helpful for everyone, and I know these things can't be rushed, but I--” Luo Wenzhou stopped for a moment, considering what he would say next. “I just want to say, I know you're still holding it all in by yourself, and I don't expect you to open up about everything to me overnight. Just-- let me carry the weights with you sometimes. I'm here.” His heart felt like it had expanded and blocked the air flowing in his lungs, and he wondered if it was because of those words or Luo Wenzhou’s lips softly

pressing against his forehead right after, the sensation of it still lingered on his skin. He was always one to control his emotions and urges, always had good self-management, his actions were never run by the emotions but by logic, what he chose to say or react to was always well-planned. But when it came to Luo Wenzhou, his body and mind seemed to struggle out of that tight chain of self-regulation, he had-- and will continue to for many years from now-- let his feelings go over his head. Luo Wenzhou was caught off guard when Fei Du suddenly sprung up from his side, climbed onto him and held his face before plopping a chaste kiss on his forehead, as Luo Wenzhou instinctively reached out to hold him still then froze in mid-air at the sudden affection display. From this position, he could see Luo Wenzhou looking up at him with an almost awed expression, and Fei Du suddenly felt like he could do anything to keep this person in his arms. “Shixiong, you being yourself is more than enough for me.” Luo Wenzhou sighed and rubbed his hair into a mess, obviously attributing his words into usual flattery. Oh well, he thought, not surprised after having used sweet talks to get out of serious conversations multiple times, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted to say those words not only to Luo Wenzhou and also himself. And the kisses he placed on Luo Wenzhou’s foreheads, cheeks and eyes were more than just soothing his ‘nagging’ lover, but rather his attempt to convey how he felt for Luo Wenzhou, even just a fraction of it. All that said, despite how much he had changed, there was one thing that remained the same: He was still a beast lucky enough to be taken in by Luo Wenzhou. Wonder if that too would change.

杀 Sha 破 Po 狼 Lang 77

by: Homi 80

easy simplicity Ceta Over a decade ago, in the Marshal Tent, Yan Wang had pressed down on his spine and, amidst Gu Yun’s laughter, helplessly asked, “When you get older and the bones can no longer keep up, what will you do about your back?” Caught in some web of joy and relief that came with properly reciprocating Chang Geng’s feelings, Gu Yun had not seriously considered it. He had thought, all these years he had experienced all kinds of injuries, a little pain would not bother him — when it came down to it, if some aches and pains really did reveal themselves as he aged, he would just endure it. Yet, even though Chang Geng had been the one to ask, over a decade later it was also him who took it upon himself to deal with it. Throughout these years Chang Geng really did take Gu Yun’s health to heart. Chang Geng had already made it a habit to massage Gu Yun’s back every so often, fingers pressing down on the acupoints along his back, slowly and carefully relieving years’ worth of pressure. It was only sometimes when he was in a mood to tease that he would purposely pretend to be inept, touching Gu Yun’s ticklish flesh and fending off his attempts to throw him off until they were both breathless with laughter. In any case, Gu Yun was not the type to complain about pain if it was serious. If it was only somewhat bothersome, he would even joke about it. Chang Geng was well aware of this bad habit of his. As a result, if he couldn’t discern whether it was true or false, whatever Gu Yun said, he would take it as the truth. Gu Yun only just off-handedly mentioned some discomfort in his back, stretching absent-mindedly. He was about to jokingly pin the blame on Chang Geng’s head when a hand settled against his back, warm and firm. Chang Geng’s brows were pulled together. “Where does it hurt?”

As he spoke, Gu Yun was already being pressed down onto his stomach, lying across the seat. Chang Geng’s heart was also already tied up in a knot of concern, so Gu Yun thought about it for a moment, decided that resistance was futile, and generously admitted, “A little higher.” It wasn’t long before Chang Geng found the troublesome area. After years of practice, it only took a few moments for Chang Geng to unravel the stiffness in Gu Yun’s spine and ease away the minor discomfort. Soon, Gu Yun relaxed against the seat, and there wasn’t much of a need for massaging anymore, but Chang Geng didn’t stop. His touch turned gentler, absent caresses that pressed meager bits of warmth into Gu Yun’s cold skin through a layer of clothes. Gu Yun laid there and soaked in all these bits of warmth with quiet, visceral greed. For a long time, he didn’t speak, but as time continued to pass his expression began to twitch, lips tightening, until finally a careless brush against his side had him bursting into laughter. Limit reached, he turned around and waved Chang Geng’s hands away. “Enough…” The word was barely spoken, but Chang Geng acted as if he didn’t hear it at all. His fingers pressed into the ticklish points on Gu Yun’s body, extremely accurate, and Gu Yun laughed again. Turns out this was his goal the entire time! Gu Yun grabbed those hands by the wrists and smiled through clenched teeth. Just what do you think you’re doing? was written across his face. Chang Geng glanced at him. After a moment, he frankly replied, “I like it.” Gu Yun asked: “Like what? Teasing me like this?” Chang Geng shook his head but didn’t reply. Instead, he sent Gu Yun a warm smile that was reflected even in his eyes, looking very genuine and earnest. Gu Yun knew he was up to no good, but his resistance broke down by half just from that one look. He took advantage of Chang Geng’s pause to slip a hand down Chang Geng’s side, wanting to toss him aside before it was too late.

However, this close, the observant Gu Yun who was looking straight at Chang Geng noticed something immediately: the way Chang Geng’s lips twitched when Gu Yun caressed him. A thought flashed across his eyes. Chang Geng caught it and hurriedly pulled back. “Wait, Zi Xi, haha — “ Gu Yun's mood was somewhat complicated. There was a bit of grievance — all this time, Gu Yun had never tried to tickle him back — but the sound of Chang Geng's laughter trickled into Gu Yun's ears and poured into his heart, filling it up to the brim. It wasn't as though Chang Geng rarely laughed. He laughed often and readily, so much so that Gu Yun had become so familiar with it that he could pick out the subtle tones of his laughter. Gu Yun moved his hand and clear laughter rang out, numbing him from head to toe. Gu Yun thought: How dangerous. He stopped teasing Chang Geng and suddenly started, "From the first time back in the Marshal Tent when you were pretending to be a novice until today…" Chang Geng: "Zi Xi…" Gu Yun smiled at him and patted his cheek. "Let's settle your years of debt to me right now." When it came to Gu Yun, perhaps because of how he grew up, he preferred to be busy than to be idle. On the topic of his routine inspections, in the early years after the war they were frequent. He had already handed these affairs over to Shen Yi to handle, but being the one to rebuild the Black Iron Camp from the brink of death and command the four borders later on, he also couldn’t help but want to make sure everything was in order with his own eyes. It was only recently that he began to step back, leaving only every so often. It was a little odd though. Gu Yun was never reluctant to leave, and sometimes he would even linger for a few days to accompany the soldiers for a little longer, but in moments like this one, when he came back home, he also couldn’t help but feel some eagerness.

Gu Yun walked through the manor. Though winter had already given way to spring, the chill from the north seemed to have followed Gu Yun back home. A cold wind blew past, spilling into the bedroom when Gu Yun opened the door. Chang Geng had been reading a medicinal book borrowed from Miss Chen. Recently, now that the country was stable, he had taken to studying medicine again in his free time. Seeing him, Chang Geng put the book down and eagerly came over. He touched Gu Yun’s hands, then asked with a pinched expression, “Did you ride all the way back?” “Only from the gates to the manor,” Gu Yun replied. Though he didn’t say anything, Chang Geng seemed a bit happier hearing that. “Hurry and get changed. I’ll get you something to warm you up — Have you eaten yet?” Gu Yun thought about it, then shook his head. Chang Geng left for a moment and soon came back with two bowls, setting them on the table. Soon, he and Chang Geng were settled beside each other. Seeing these identical bowls, Gu Yun was surprised. “You haven’t eaten yet?” Chang Geng knew beforehand that Gu Yun would be returning today, but Gu Yun had been unintentionally held up at the last second, coming back later than intended. Though he had managed to make it back before the day was over, it was still late. Dinner had already passed. Chang Geng shook his head, as he handed him a bowl. There was a light smile on his lips when he brought the other bowl to his lips for a taste. It was only after that he replied, “The food tastes better like this.” A complicated expression flickered across Gu Yun’s face. “You....” With only a glance, Chang Geng knew what he was thinking. He set the bowl aside and spoke casually, “I often stay back in the palace going over important matters to pass the time. Sometimes, a meal may be skipped, and depending on when I return to the manor afterwards, I may or may not make it up.”

Chang Geng paused, stole a glance at Gu Yun, then leaned to the side. He hooked his chin over Gu Yun’s shoulder and quietly asked with a smile, “If I said this, would you come back home sooner?” There was a moment where Gu Yun didn’t react, but then he lightly pushed Chang Geng away, muttering, “This late and still talking nonsense…” “It is nonsense,” Chang Geng agreed with a laugh. He added, “The truth is that I just like sharing meals with you. Knowing that you would come back today, I waited a bit longer to eat together. You don’t have to worry. Things like skipping meals from missing you, I don’t dare do it.” Gu Yun shot him a look and said, “Be quiet. Eat more and talk less if you don’t dare to skip your meals. I haven’t even warmed the seat yet and you’re already trying to coax me.” There wasn’t any change in his expression, but Chang Geng knew Gu Yun had softened down considerably. Resisting the urge to laugh, he ducked his head with a smile and diligently went back to his food, not saying a word. Afterwards, Gu Yun still sometimes took a day or two longer with his routine checks. However, for some reason, this man who would come back at whatever time he wanted, often sneaking into the manor when it was too late or too early, all of a sudden he started to come home at a reasonable hour. No one could figure out what miracle had dawned on Gu Yun to make him change his ways. No one seemed to notice either that he always arrived in time to share a meal with His Majesty. Even though Gu Yun no longer drank the medicine for his eyes and ears, headaches still came and went. They weren’t common, appearing every so often, and usually weren’t severe. Gu Yun would either endure or take care of it himself, jokingly complaining about Chang Geng’s stifling care while waving him aside. It was because of this that Chang Geng was surprised when Gu Yun suddenly came to him, brows furrowed and hand pressed to his temple, a look of pain twisting his features.

Gu Yun didn’t even have a chance to speak before Chang Geng was up and standing before him, voice low as he asked, “How bad is it?” A strange expression flashed across Gu Yun’s face as he looked back at him. It only lasted a moment, though. His eyes abruptly screwed shut, and he bit through gritted teeth, “Hurts.” Chang Geng didn’t think too heavily about the odd pause. He led Gu Yun to the chair, sitting down himself before remembering to ask, “Do you want me to get the needles?” Gu Yun shook his head. “No need.” He sat beside Chang Geng and turned to lay his head down on Chang Geng’s lap. He breathed out something not quite a sigh and closed his eyes, saying, “It’s fine like this. After a moment, it’ll go away.” With a short nod, Chang Geng pressed his fingers to Gu Yun’s temples and replied, “Alright.” When it came to headaches, even though Chang Geng wouldn’t dare call himself an expert, at least with Gu Yun he was still particularly skilled in relieving the pain. Unfortunately, this time, Gu Yun only seemed to be increasingly bothered. Chang Geng wondered with some shock, How did it get so bad? Secretly, he felt around Gu Yun’s head, searching for bumps and carefully watching his expression for any tender spots. Gu Yun knew what he was doing, but it was only after a long while that he finally brushed Chang Geng’s hands aside, saying, “Enough. I said it was fine like this.” Chang Geng slowly put his hands away. He hesitated, then asked, “What happened? Did you hit your head?” Gu Yun’s brow twitched. Vaguely, Chang Geng thought he looked angry, but all he said in reply was a short, “Mm.” “Was it something someone said?” Chang Geng continued to question. “Mm.” Chang Geng reached out, fingers pressing against Gu Yun’s wrist. “Are you tired?” Gu Yun automatically replied with a “Mm,” but then he seemed to realize what was being asked and added: “Very tired.”

Chang Geng looked at Gu Yun for a moment, his expression unreadable. After that, he didn’t ask anymore. It was as Gu Yun said. It really was fine like this. Eventually, the furrow of his brows eased, his expression relaxing. He laid like that for some time, neither of them speaking a word, until, in the end, he… fell asleep. This wasn’t the first time Gu Yun had fallen asleep like this, but usually it happened when he wanted to pass the painful headaches he would get once he drank his medicine. Chang Geng was at a loss for a while, the urge to let him rest in bed warring with the selfish part of him that wanted him to stay. Chang Geng quietly called, “Zi Xi?” Gu Yun didn’t reply. He really had fallen asleep. Looking at him, Chang Geng’s heart clenched in his chest. His mind wandered to the moments before, and a sudden thought crossed his mind. It was a little ridiculous and somewhat absurd, but now that he had glanced at it, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Chang Geng had thought: Did his head really hurt? Earlier, when Chang Geng questioned him, he was excessively unresponsive, refusing to talk. The supposedly painful headache disappeared just from laying his head on Chang Geng’s lap for a handful of moments. After this, Chang Geng then thought: If it didn’t, why did he… Gu Yun was spread across the chair, legs kicked up on the arm of it. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, head pillowed on Chang Geng’s lap. The weariness of being relieved of a headache was nowhere to be seen on his face. In fact, he looked completely at ease, comfortable as could be, like nothing in the world could bother him. Chang Geng’s lips twitched into a smile. A giddiness he couldn’t temper bloomed like a field of wildflowers in his chest. His fingers brushed across Gu Yun’s cheek, combed through his hair. As Chang Geng watched him, his eyes shone bright. “Going so far to trick me even for something like this…” He laughed, light and quiet, murmuring with a heart full of affection, “How dishonest.” -

One day, as they were sitting outside under the shade of the willow tree, Gu Yun suddenly said: “Give me your hand.” Chang Geng had set aside the knife he’d been using to carve a wooden bird earlier, feeling somewhat worn from it. The wooden bird sat on the small table between them. Other than a few details Chang Geng would carve in at another time, it was nearly complete. Chang Geng glanced at Gu Yun, but seeing that he didn’t seem to be up to mischief, he held out his hand as requested. Gu Yun took it into both his own without a word, enveloping Chang Geng’s hand in slight chill. For a while, Gu Yun didn’t move. Thoughts flickered across his gaze too fast for Chang Geng to read, but his expression remained unreadable. In the end, Chang Geng prompted: “What’s wrong?” Gu Yun didn’t reply. He pushed up Chang Geng’s sleeve and said in a light voice, “Be good.” Before Chang Geng could ask, Gu Yun stroked up his arm, from wrist to elbow, repeating the motion several times. Chang Geng wordlessly shut his mouth, focusing instead on Gu Yun’s cold fingers as they rubbed firm, soothing circles from the tips of his fingers up to his forearm then back down again to Chang Geng’s hand. Gu Yun rubbed up his palm, swiping against the soft spaces between Chang Geng’s fingers. Not once did he look up, but the longer Chang Geng looked at him, the clearer he could see the thread of warmth in his gaze. No matter how lightly he touched, Gu Yun's hands weren't soft. Years of commanding the Black Iron Camp had left their mark on his hands, turning the skin coarse and rough. Combined with the natural coldness of his skin, they could be said to be a pair of unfeeling hands without an ounce of affection, born to toil away on the battlefield. In this moment though, feeling each movement filled with care, Chang Geng felt that there wasn't any other person who would touch him like this — who had ever touched him like this — with the thoughtfulness of someone who held him in their heart.

It took a moment to find his voice. When he spoke, it came out a bit hoarse, "What are you doing?" Gu Yun patted his hand, then dug his thumb satisfyingly into the ache in his wrist, leaving behind lingering tingles wherever he touched. “What do you think?” Chang Geng watched him naturally massage his hand, not a bit of stiffness or awkwardness as he worked. He didn’t mind Gu Yun’s non-answer and asked something else, “Where did you learn how to do this?” It didn’t take too long to figure out once Chang Geng thought about it. There was already an answer in his heart, and Gu Yun did not try to hide it away either, answering, “Miss Chen.” Speaking honestly, but not completely. Learned from Chen Qing Xu, but who was it that noticed such a minor thing and sought her out because of it? Even Chang Geng didn’t pay attention to it most days. A vague, passing discomfort like this… A simple stretch, some time to rest, and it would go away. Just how close was Gu Yun watching to be able to see it? “Aren’t you usually so spoiled?” Gu Yun asked. “If it hurts, why didn’t you come and tell yifu?” “Zi Xi,” Chang Geng started. Gu Yun didn’t stop to listen at all and shamelessly began to scold him: “You’re not as

young as before. The country isn’t in as dire straits either. What good is there in tiring yourself out before your time? Not mentioning the important work from the palace, why is it that even your hobbies — “ Chang Geng listened to his hypocritical nonsense and interrupted, “It hurts.” Gu Yun’s expression didn’t change. “Does it? Next time, you — “ Chang Geng once again interrupted, adding earnestly, “Kiss it better.” Gu Yun: “...” Instead of kissing, he reached out two fingers and fiercely pinched the back of Chang Geng’s hand. It didn’t hurt at all. Chang Geng even sent him a sunny smile afterwards, but just as he was about to speak, Gu Yun flipped his hand and pressed a quick, light kiss to the palm of it. The words died on his tongue. A sudden urge to laugh bubbled up Chang Geng’s throat. Gu Yun looked at him. “Better?” Chang Geng really couldn’t help it. Grasping his hand, he tugged Gu Yun across the table and kissed him. By the time they pulled away, they were both smiling. Chang Geng loved him too much. Looking at Gu Yun, heart overflowing in his chest, Chang Geng nodded. “Better.”

大 Da 哥 Ge 86

contributors Crow Twitter: @cr0w_an Tumblr: thecrowsart First, happy birthday to Priest! Thank you for giving us so many novels to read and cry and make art together over. Second, I hope the readers of this zine enjoy all the lovely artwork and writing from all the collaborators!

Carm Twitter: @ruoyeahs @_carmily I’m honored to participate in this project with my favorite novel! Hope you enjoy the zine!! :P

Cece Twitter: @_xCecentre It's my first time participating in a zine and I'm happy to do it with fellow priest enthusiasts, and on such a perfect occasion as a great way to celebrate our beloved author's birthday and our appreciation for her. Thank you the team for coordinating this and happy priest birthday!

Deng (灯) Twitter: @1Denga Lofter: 1denga 皮女神生日快乐！虽然重复了但就是祝皮皮大甜心诸事顺利，天天都开心⁽⁽ଘ(ˊᵕˋ)ଓ⁾⁾*蜜糖们爱你！！ Emmy Twitter, Tumblr, AO3: thosch3i Happy birthday to priest! Thank you for your wonderful writing that has brought together fans from across the world and forged so many new friendships <3

Ceta Twitter: @lynxxed_ Tumblr: lnyxxed Happy birthday, Priest! May you have good fortune forever and always! ✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)‫｡*✧و‬

Hina Twitter: weilanchanggu Happy birthday to the most endearing, empowering, and talented author of my heart! Pipi, thank you for bringing me joy and hope through your beautiful writing and lovely characters. Your novels have touched my heart so much, and your imagination always leaves me in awe. Please stay safe and enjoy your special day. Much much much love for you!

CMB Twitter: cmb_binghe Hope everyone enjoys the zine and our celebration of Priest's works. May the worlds in these novels continue to inspire us for years to come-- Happy bday Pipi!

Homi (호미) Twitter: n_ihjv I'm a Korean fan of Priest. Thank you so much for your good novels and happy birthday to you >0<!!

Koku Twitter: @yuuxiaos I love space gays thank you Pi for blessing us with your books

Hyouka Twitter: Xiong_Hyouka Thank you for the zine invitation, and I hope this bridges everyone to more things to love about Priest's works! Thank you for all the gripping tales you have woven, P 大！

Kuro Twitter: @KNeko630 Dear priest, I have known your works for 2 years. In those 2 years your stories have revived my spirit in times of fatigue. From the bottom of my heart thank you very much

Ineffablebfs Twitter: @ineffablebfs Happy birthday Priest!! I am so grateful for Priest for bringing all these amazing and intricate stories into my life!

Littorella Twitter: @alli_littorella Tumblr: littorella Sometimes it seems we've all been gathering up enough luck to discover such amazing stories from Pipi <3

Kat Twitter: @katerina_neko Tumblr: nyankocatnyan happy birthday Priest, thank you for creating wonderful works. I really immersed in the world that you created. I'm looking forward to more journey <3

Matchasakura2 Twitter: @matchasakura2 Hello I'm not good with words but I want to thank everyone for liking my arts and I hope we can talk more about Priest's novels in the future And Happy Birthday for Priest! I really enjoy your novels

Kieran Twitter: @wakerife Making this piece I had the realization that I would probably love this story and its characters for the rest of my life, and I consider myself fortunate to have found a love like that with Liu Yao and Priest. Thank you, and Happy 31st Birthday Priest.

Orro Twitter: scribblyorro AO3: orro Happy Birthday Priest. Thank you for writing such wonderful novels! Icon by GirlwithRibbon (twitter)

Qingyi (čŻˇĺż&#x2020;) Twitter: JoyleeQ Lofter: qinggggyi Happy Birthday to Priest! đ&#x;Ľł đ&#x;Ľł đ&#x;Ľł

Tang (çł&#x2013;) Twitter: hqdfh25 Lofter: wilshon25 ç&#x161;Žç&#x161;Žç&#x201D;&#x;ć&#x2014;ĽĺżŤäš?> <çĽ?ć&#x201E;żç&#x161;Žç&#x161;Žä¸&#x2021;äş&#x2039;éĄş ć&#x201E;?ďź&#x152;ć°¸čż&#x153;ĺź&#x20AC;ĺż&#x192;>w<â&#x2DC;&#x2020; Vian Twitter: @Viandrawsstuff Instagram: viannnndraws Happy Birthday, Priest! I really love the way you've written meaningful lessons and your world building. Thank you very much for writing the characters and stories we know and love! I hope you will have good fortune always!!!

Ringeel Twitter: @_ringl Tumblr: ringeel For all sorrows and happy moments which I lived on these pages - Thank You! Ryo Twitter: @ryoplica Thank you very much for inviting me to be a part of this zine. Liuyao is one of my favorite works from Priest, I really adore how closely knit the characters are to one another (please let them go home). And also happy birthday to Priest!

Icon by gio twitter: artthetrash

Yuka Twitter: @yuka_cchii Instagram: yuka.cchii Tumblr: yukacchi č°˘č°˘ p ĺ¤§ĺ&#x2020;&#x2122;äş&#x2020;ä¸&#x20AC;ä¸Şčż&#x2122;äš&#x2C6;ç˛žĺ˝Ščż&#x2122;äš&#x2C6; ć&#x2019;&#x2022;ĺż&#x192;čŁ&#x201A;č&#x201A;şç&#x161;&#x201E;ć&#x2022;&#x2026;äş&#x2039;ďź ďź ć&#x2C6;&#x2018;ç&#x153;&#x;ć&#x2DC;Żç&#x153;&#x2039;äş&#x2020; ä¸&#x20AC;é ?ĺ&#x203A;&#x17E;ĺ&#x17D;ťĺ?&#x2C6;ç&#x153;&#x2039;äş&#x2020;ä¸&#x20AC;é ?čż&#x2DC;ć&#x192;łĺ&#x2020;? ç&#x153;&#x2039;ďź ďź ďź čż&#x2122;ä¸Şć&#x2022;&#x2026;äş&#x2039;ĺ¸Śçť&#x2122;äş&#x2020;ć&#x2C6;&#x2018;ĺž&#x2C6;ĺ¤&#x161; ĺżŤäš?ďź&#x152;äš&#x;ĺ&#x203A; ć¤čŽ¤čŻ&#x2020;äş&#x2020;ĺž&#x2C6;ĺ¤&#x161;ć&#x2013;°ć&#x153;&#x2039; ĺ?&#x2039;ďź č°˘č°˘ p ĺ¤§ď˝&#x17E; äťĽĺ?&#x17D;äš&#x;ä¸&#x20AC;ç&#x203A;´ć&#x201D;Żć&#x152; p ĺ¤§ď˝&#x17E;

Shy Twitter: @xiaochanggeng AO3: shairiru There are not enough words to convey my love and appreciation for Priest and her works. Pipi, I hope you always find joy in writing as much as your writing brings us joy. Always waiting for your new worlds and characters~ Happy birthday!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Thank you to all the artists and writers that made it possible to create Sweet Universe! Special thanks to Emi for providing the zine cover, and to Kai and Juls for helping to kickstart the zine project.