Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

you were born for this. for her.

there are still a few hours left of tonight. it’s the earliest you’ve woken up in years, the latest you’ve stayed up in a day. in just a few hours, you will no longer be your own, you will be hers, only hers. you laugh. how silly of you. you are already hers, you were always hers. it matters not that you don’t even know her name, it matters not that you don’t even know her face, her voice, her, you are already hers, you were always hers, hers, hers, hers.

you want to sleep. dream that what will greet you in just a few hours is normalcy. you laugh. there is no such thing as normalcy. you laugh again. but there is. at least it is normalcy for you. kept from the outside world, so much that ‘the outside world’ is everything outside of your supposed home. kept from the outside world and its impurities, so much that ‘impurities’ are everything that wasn’t taught by your supposed home. you want to sleep, but you can’t. you can’t dream what you want to dream, can’t pretend what you want to pretend. what will greet you in just a few hours is the opposite of normalcy, it’s your marriage.

you could argue that marriage is normalcy, besides, it’s the one thing that’s been carved into each and every bit of your being since you were born. after all, you were born for this, for her. each and every bit of your being were born for her, as such you were given your kind of normalcy. the lessons, more lessons, even more lessons, carved permanently into your being just for her.

you look at your hands, the ones you were born with, the ones shaking, holding a mirror and a brush. you remembered why you are here, bathing in the moonlight streaming through the gaps you made from the windows, sitting in front of the dresser in the room you will never see again in just a few hours. you remembered why you are here, you wanted to look at yourself. so you do. you on your left hand greeted yourself and you feel your hands shake even more, feel your entire body shake too.

your hair, a mess, and now, your hànfú too. you put the mirror on your dresser, the thud of wood on wood snaps you back to reality. your hands cease their shaking, your entire body too. you fix your layers of hànfú, from the ends of their long sleeves to the skirts you wish you could fix better, but you can’t because you’re sitting on them. you fix your hair, from its strong roots to the ends you wish you could make better, but you can’t because you only have a few hours left. a few hours left before your hànfú will no longer be yours, before your hair will no longer be yours, before you will no longer be your own.

it’s alright. you on the dresser tried to smile at you. it’s alright, after all, you were born for this. for her.

Chapter Text

come, my child, it is almost time.
“yes, a-niáng.”

the moon is low, but you and everyone around you are up. you are both the center of everyone’s attention and the furthest thing from it. there are hands around your hair, hands around your face, hands around your body, but also none at the same time. the ones on your being are gentle, if you didn’t know better, you would think that they care for you (we do, my child, we do. “of course, a-niáng.”). the ones not on your being are not as gentle, if you didn’t know better, you would think that they care for you (we do, my child, we do. “of course, a-niáng.”).

your hair is bare, your face and your body too. it has been quite a few moons since their hands have touched you, having not participated in ceremonies in said moons (today is no different, but it is the most different. “yes, a-niáng.”). the hands cease their caresses and you can finally breathe. you try to be as quiet as you can as you fill your unbreathing lungs with air, you can’t bother the hands, they are there to make sure you are satisfactory. satisfactory for her. you feel your breath stop again, as the hands return with their caresses.

the sun is up. your hair, your face, your body, they are no longer bare. you are bathed in red.

come, my child, it is almost time.
“yes, a-niáng.”

something feels heavy. is it your hands? is it your feet? your head? your heart? your entire being? you feel heavy.

you look at your hands, they are trembling. you look at your feet, they are too. you touch your head, they feel so, so, so tired. you touch your heart, they feel so, so, so tired too. despite the tiredness though, they are so loud. loud, loud, loud.

you feel someone touch your shoulder, it’s mother. mother touched your shoulder. you breathe.

here, a-(name), have this.

you feel someone put something on your open palms, it’s mother. mother put something on your open palms. you breathe.

you look at your hands, it’s a small ceramic bowl, filled with a few pieces of tánghúlu. you look at your hands, your feet, they are no longer trembling. you take the stick in the bowl to eat the candy, careful to not smear the rouge the hands painted on your lips, to not ruin the veil the hands placed on your head. there is still one more left, you take it with the same stick to offer it to your mother. her eyes are sad, but her lips are not, she shook her head.

thank you, my child, but no, you like them, so you have them.
the ‘it is at least the one thing i know you like’ is left unsaid.
“understood, a-niáng, thank you.”

come, my child, it is almost time.
“yes, a-niáng.”

you were walking until you aren’t. you were lowering yourself until you are sitting on your knees. under you is red, in front of you is a table, also red. your head is loud, your heart is too. you realized that even after the tánghúlu, even after the moment of steadiness, your head and heart have never ceased their voices. it is alright, you are meant for this after all, for her.

you soon find yourself moving without difficulty. you move the cups on the table like you have been doing it for years, you have. you move the plates on the table like you have been doing it for years, you have. you move the bowls on the table like you have been doing it for years, you have. they are for the hands, so you must move without difficulty.

to the heavens and the earth, you kòutóu.
to your mother and your father, you kòutóu.
to the one you belong to, you kòutóu.

you wonder if she is doing the same things as you. you try to not wonder too much though. you try to not wonder whether she would lower her head so low for the earth or not and why (if it was just the heavens, it would make more sense). you try to not wonder whether she would lower her head so low for her mother and father or not and why (if it was because of ascension, it would make more sense, but also not at the same time). you try to not wonder whether she would lower her head so low for you or not and why (no ifs can make it make sense).

you were born for this. for her. and now, you are this. you are hers.

come, my child, it is time.
“yes, a-niáng.”

you are bathed in red, your surroundings too. both the one earlier, and the one now. you are inside the palanquin. yes, not just a palanquin, but the palanquin that will bring you to her. you are no longer trembling, or at least for now, you aren’t.

you listen to your mother, listen to what she has to say, one last time. you nod each time you need to, you nod, nod, nod. “there is no need to worry, a-niáng,” you say softly, “a-(name) will be alright, thank you.”

mother’s eyes look sad, but her lips are not, she nodded her head.

okay, a-(name), i love you.
the ‘i hope you know that' and the 'i am sorry’ are left unsaid.
“yes, a-niáng, i love you too.”

you return your hands to your lap, and you find yourself missing the rare warmth immediately.

you are this. you are hers.

the moon is up. you are there. you are here. the fog mount temple, or rather, a few steps away from it. you say your thanks and goodbyes to the men that carried you here. you say your thanks and goodbyes to the you that carried you here. this is it. you are truly no longer your own.

you find yourself thinking of those two sentences over and over as you walk towards the temple. you softly hit your powdered cheeks, you have no right to think like that. you softly hit your hands, you have no right to think like that. you were born for this, for her. and now you are this, you are hers.

the temple and its surroundings are quiet, no one is around. you knock on the temple’s door. no answer. you open the temple’s door. no answer. you walk through the temple’s door. no answer.

you try to find your way to her bedroom. or any bedroom. it’s quite easy, as the temple is smaller than you had thought. you had thought that a celestial sacrificing her place in the heavens to protect the earth and its mortals would have a temple bigger than this. you stopped yourself from thinking further, it is inappropriate of you. inappropriate of you to question her choices. if anything, the smallness just shows how kind and humble the celestial is. how kind and humble the celestial, indeed, to accept you as hers.

you enter the bedroom. you are again bathed in red, both because of your hànfú and the room. you wonder whether she would be bathed in red like you too or not and why.

you sit yourself on the bed.

you are this. you are hers.

you hear footsteps, calm and composed. you hear your heart, the complete opposite.

she is here. she’s also bathed in red. she is here. she is here. red, red, red.

she is here.

she is here.

your vision is red, literally. your veil obstructs your view, makes everything that is your vision red. but her. her, her, her. she is her. well, of course, she is her. what you mean is that she is here. she is here and your vision is red, but she is here and she is beautiful.

you feel your hands and feet tremble. you feel your head and heart go loud. you remember why you are here. you know why you are here. you are this, you are hers. but your hands and feet are trembling. your head and heart are so loud. you feel hot, your entire being feels hot. if you didn’t know better, you would think you are burning, especially your hands, your hands. your hands!

she is touching your hands and it’s burning.

you don’t dare look up, look at her. you look down, look at your hands that are now so much more interesting than they have ever been before. you almost feel at peace, until you realized that there is no such thing as peace for you. no peace for the hands, feet, head, nor heart.

she is no longer touching your hands, she is touching the ends of your veil and you don’t know how it works because your veil is not your body, but it’s burning.

you are trembling, you know that she knows too.

you feel the veil being lifted, but you keep your gaze down. you don’t dare look up, look at her. you may be hers, but she is not yours. the veil goes up and up and up, up, up. up, up, until it doesn’t.

she is touching your chin and it’s burning.

oh. oh.

you feel your head being moved upwards. you almost kept your gaze down before you realized how inappropriate it would be, so you slowly look upwards too. you look up, look at her.

her eyes. they’re blue, so blue. but they look so sad—
she is sad.

“i am sorry.”
“this one is sorry—”

“—huh?” you say dumbly.

“i am sorry.”

you were born for this, for her. and now you are this, you are hers. but—
‘sorry’?

Chapter Text

remember, child, you are made for her. you belong to her. remember this always.

“i will always remember, a-diē, i am made for her. i belong to her.”

you can’t feel your knees. your feet. can’t feel your hands, your head.

remember, child, you will not fail her. remember this always.

“i will always remember, a-diē, i will not fail her.”

you can’t feel your knees. your feet. can’t feel your hands, your head.

but you can feel the wood. the wood. again and again and again. again. again.

on your back, on your back, your back. again and again, again, again. and again.

(father hates you. he hates you. you wish you were better.)

it is silent. but it is loud.

dry. your eyes are dry. your mouth and throat too. what did the celestial say? what did the celestial say? what, what. what did she say? ‘i am sorry’? the celestial said that. ‘i am sorry,' yes. she said ‘i am sorry’. she said that she is sorry? she is sorry. she is sorry? sorry. sorry? of you? dry, dry, dry. sorry, she is sorry, sorry of you. you are sorry.

“i am sorry!” you say, neither a shout nor a whisper, but also both at the same time.

“no, please,” her eyes are sad, so, so, so sad, she is distant, “please do not be.”

wet. your eyes are wet. your mouth and throat too. what did the celestial say? what did the celestial say? what, what. what did she say? ‘please do not be’? the celestial said that. ‘please do not be,’ yes. she said ‘please do not be’. what? what, what, what? what? wet, wet, wet, you want to cry. cry, cry, cry, it has been so many years since you last cried. you want to cry.

“no, no, please, please don’t cry,” her eyes are sad, no, not sad. sadder. they are sadder. so much sadder. she is distant.

her hands are on your powdered cheeks. her fingers are on your colored lids. you do not know what exactly is burning, but it burns. it burns and it burns and burn.

she does not want you to cry. she does not like a bride that cries. you can’t cry. cry, cry, cry. you want to cry, but you can’t. she doesn’t want you to cry. she doesn’t like a bride that cries. you don’t cry. you won’t cry.

it is silent. it is loud.

“there, there is no need to cry,” her eyes are still sad, but no longer as sad as right before, right before when she ordered you not to cry. she is distant. you remember your father’s words. you will not fail her. you will not fail her anymore. she was so sad, so you will not fail, you will not fail anymore.

it is silent. it is loud.

your mind is clear. or rather, your mind is clearer. your head and heart are still loud, but their voices no longer hurt. your hands and feet still tremble, but their movements no longer hurt. your mind is clearer, so you remember. remember why you are here. you are this, you are hers. hers, only hers. you fill your already full mind even more with her. you remember why you are here.

“shàng xiān,” you say, voice finally found.

“i will get you out of here.”

“this one is for your taking— huh?”

it’s the second time, the second time you have disrespected her. ‘huh’? stupid. you are stupid.

“i will get you out of here,” she says again.

“shàng xiān,” you say, voice half-way gone, “this one does not understand.”

“i will get you out of here, i will set you free.”

it is silent. it is loud.

she is holding your hands again and it is burning.

“let’s go, if we leave now, we will arrive right after the sunrise.”

she is holding your hands again and it is burning. wait. you feel your body move. ah, she is pulling you up. she is pulling you up so gently. it is burning, but a gentle kind of burn, if that kind of burn even exists. wait. she is pulling you up. why is she pulling you up? she is supposed to push you down. push you down gently (or not, it is up to her after all) to the bed and take you. so why is she pulling you up? why isn’t she pushing you down?

“wait, shàng xiān, please,” you say, “this one still does not understand.”

it is silent. it is loud.

her eyes are sad, sadder and sadder, always sadder, you are stupid, you failed again.

“i said that i will set you free,” she says, “so i will set you free.”

you are stupid, you always fail. all you are is a stupid, stupid failure.

“you don’t have to worry, i will not bring you back, you will be safe.”

you were never taught what to do if anything like this were to happen. if anything like this, like rejection, utter, utter rejection, were to happen. you are so, so stupid. stupid, stupid failure.

you are standing. or rather, you were standing. you didn’t even realize you were until you feel your entire being trembling, feel your entire being falling. you are falling. oh, now you are no longer falling. you are on the floor. all of your being is on the floor. yes, even your heart. oh, no, never mind. your hands are not on the floor, as she is holding them after all. never mind. your hands are also on the floor. so is she. wait, what?

she is kneeling in front of you. kneeling in front of you. she is kneeling.

she is also holding you, holding you so gently. as if you are made of precious gold, as if you are precious. you ache. she is pulling you up, pulling you so gently. you ache. she is pushing you down, pushing you down so gently. you ache. wait, you shouldn’t ache. she is pushing you down, down to the bed. is she giving you another chance?

“you must be tired,” she says, “i am sorry. we will leave tomorrow when you’re fully rested.”

what? what. no.

it is silent. no, it is not silent. it is loud. just loud. so very loud.

“wait!” she is leaving, leaving you alone.

“wait, please, shàng xiān,” you beg and beg.

she smiles at you, a sad smile. she is beautiful when she smiles. if only it was not sad.

she is leaving, leaving you alone. you can’t let it happen. you’re trembling, but you can’t let it happen. you are a stupid failure, but at the very least, you can’t let her leave now.

you move without thinking. you move your legs without thinking, each step your feet take hurts like knives. you move your right hand without thinking. no! your right hand stopped. how dare you. you are hers, but she is not yours. you can’t just touch her without thinking. but she is still leaving, you can’t let it happen. so you think, you think, think, think. you are hers, but she is not yours. you can’t touch her, so as long as you don’t touch her—

“please, shàng xiān.” you say, holding her right sleeve.

it is loud.

you let go of her sleeve.

you dropped yourself to the floor, the way you have done it countless times already. another kòutóu, but unlike the ones you did earlier in the day, this time, this one, it’s for forgiveness.

“shàng xiān, this unworthy one is sorry. sorry for being unworthy. but please. if shàng xiān can give this unworthy one another chance. just one more chance. this unworthy one has stayed pure, so she is inexperienced, but she can learn, she will learn. she will learn and this unworthy one will be worthy for shàng xiān. just. just one more chance. shàng xiān is kind, so this unworthy one wishes for shàng xiān’s kindness.”

you wish you had said it the way you wished to. no, instead of saying it the way you wished to say it, you stumbled. stumbled on your words. but it is said. you have said what you said. so you wait.

but it never came. the wood. it never came. ah, there is no wood around the room, it is a different room from the one you are used to after all. so you wait for hands. the hands. they never came. what? ah, they came. you can feel them, the hands. but, they’re so gentle? they’re so gentle.

“you are worthy,” she says, but you can’t see her eyes, you are kneeling after all, “you are worthy of freedom. i will set you free, i will set you free because you are worthy.”

“forgive this one, but shàng xiān, this one does not understand why this one must be set free. this one is made for shàng xiān, for yún mò dānxīn. this one belongs to… to you.”

she is silent, the complete opposite of your head and heart.

“what did they do to her,” you hear her whisper, “what did they teach her.

“i do not want to hurt you.”

it is loud.

you do not understand. you do not understand how would she ever hurt you. you are hers. hers, hers, hers. how would she hurt you? by hitting you? with a hand? two hands? would that even hurt? you are hers after all. with a wood? would that even hurt? you are hers, if she hurts you then you need to be hurt. so it wouldn’t hurt.

“but shàng xiān would never hurt this one.”

“you don’t know that,” she says, her voice is desperate, you don’t understand why, “you don’t understand what you’re saying. you don’t understand what your situation is.”

“this one knows,” you say, “so, please, this one begs to understand.”

she is now touching your hands, the ones flat on the ground, flat under your forehead. she takes them gently, always gently, slowly pushing your head up to meet hers. her, her, hers. she is so close to you. she remains close to you as she pulls you up yet again. as she pushes you down to the bed yet again. she is so close. she is so distant. always so close, always gentle, always so distant. for once, her touch is not burning.

it is loud.

she sits on the bed next to you. her hands are still holding yours. wait no, they’re not just holding yours. they’re caressing yours too. it doesn’t burn, but it still makes your heart and head loud. you know she knows too. she knows because her caresses that were random are now always on the same two points, the two points being the parts of your hands that are pulsing the most.

“i’m not who you think i am,” she starts.

and before you even think of opening your mouth to defend her, she continues.

“they didn’t tell you this. they probably didn’t even know this to tell. you truly are made for me. what they didn’t know though, is not just as a bride, but a sacrifice.

“i,” she hesitates, “like everyone, i need food to live. but. but the food i need is different.”

“shàng xiān?” you ask.

“i need blood to live,” she finally says, “i need blood to live and you were made for me as a sacrifice to give me the blood i need.”

red, red, red. around you is red. you are bathed in red, both because of your hànfú and the room. and also her, she is also bathed in red. she is red. she is red, like you. you are her bride. she is also a bride. so, so, why? red, red, red.

“you were never meant to be just my bride. it was all just a façade.”

red, red, red.

she is here. she is here. red.

she is here. next to you.

next to you. here.

here.

red. she is here.

you don’t know what to feel.

it is loud.

“but don’t worry,” she says, voice desperate again, “i will set you free. i will not hurt you. you’ll be free.”

“shàng xiān?”

“yes?”

“setting me free means not having food.”

“… yes.”

“setting me free means,” you hesitate, “setting me free means hunger.”

you are trembling. you still don’t understand. you are trembling and you still don’t understand anything. you weren’t taught anything that could help you decide what to do when this happens. when rejection happens because of something that you just don’t understand. but despite the trembling, you found something in you. something in you, something from you, that tells you to tell her this. tell her this even if it means completely forgetting to refer to yourself properly. so you do.

“i was already made for shàng xiān, as a, as a sacrifice. setting me free would only waste my sacrifice.”

it is loud. and for the first time in the long night, you found it in you to look at her in the eyes without her prompting you to do it. her eyes are wide, they are still a bit sad, but they are wider than they are sad.

“i.” you let go of her hands, “this one. this one wasn't taught how to do it. so this one hope shàng xiān would teach her.”
your hands tremble as you take one of the collars of your hànfú. your hands tremble as you take one of the collars to your hànfú and parts it to your shoulder, exposing the skin underneath. exposing the neck underneath. the collar underneath.

she looks at you. at your neck, at your collar. at you again. her eyes are wide, but they are no longer sad. her eyes are wide, and instead of sadness, you see hunger. a constrained one, but hunger nonetheless. she is hungry.

it is loud.

“why?”

“this one does not know, but shàng xiān, please… please take her anyway.”

“are you sure?”

you nod, “this one is sure.”

she pushes you down. down to half lie and half sit on the bed. your head is resting on the wall, but not for long, because she took it and is now holding it in her left hand. your waist is barely resting on the bed, but not for long, because she took it and is now holding it in her right hand. she pushes you down even more, though no longer with her hands, but with her body. she is pressing down onto you. it is burning.

your mind is filled with her. her, her, her. she is burning, burning you. you are burning.

“this will hurt for a bit, but the pain will be gone as soon as it comes.”

you hum, voice lost.

she looks at you for a bit before closing her eyes. she is somewhere distant. she is always distant. despite being so close to you, she is distant. her eyes are still closed; it appears that she wants to keep them that way. you don’t, you want to keep yours open, so your eyes are kept that way.

she closes in, she is still distant. she closes into your neck, she is still distant. you can feel her breath on your skin, it burns you. you can feel her lips on your skin, it burns you. she is close, she is distant. you feel teeth, no, no, you felt teeth. now you feel. you feel. you feel fangs. she has fangs. she has fangs and you feel them. you try to breathe, you can’t. it burns and you can’t breathe.

it is loud.

your head and heart are screaming. they’re screaming for the pain to stop. it’s painful.

it hurts, hurts, hurts. it hurts. you want it to stop. please, please, stop, stop. stop!

it stopped. the pain stopped.

she is still holding your head. she is still holding your waist. she is still on you. on you. she is still eating. eating your blood. your blood. you. she is still holding you and eating you.

the pain stopped, and you finally realized how hard you are holding the sheets and your own thigh. you didn’t hold her. you are hers, but she is not yours. you are holding the sheets and your own thigh so hard. so you let both of them go because it doesn’t hurt anymore. she is still holding you and eating you, but it doesn’t hurt anymore, so it’s fine. you can let them go.

wrong.

no, you’re right. it doesn’t hurt anymore. it’s the complete opposite. it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t hurt anymore. you don’t feel any pain. all you feel is pleasure.

your head and heart are screaming. they’re screaming for the pleasure to continue. it’s so good.

it’s so good, good, good. it’s so good. you want it to continue. please, please, more, more. more!

it stopped. the pleasure stopped.

she is still holding your head. she is still holding your waist. she is still on you. on you. but she is no longer eating. eating your blood. your blood. you. she is still holding you, but she is no longer eating you.

the pleasure stopped, and you finally realized how hard you are holding the sheets and your own thigh. wait, no. the pleasure didn’t stop. the most of it stopped, but your head and your heart are light. how? how, how, how. how? your head and your heart are light, but you can’t think. you can’t think anymore.

you want to touch someone.

you want to be touched by someone.

you want to touch her.

you can’t.

you are hers, but she is not yours.

you want to touch yourself.

you can’t.

you are hers, you are hers.

you are hers.

you want to touch and be touched, but she is distant despite her closeness. so you hold the want inside. you hold the want and yourself inside.

“sleep, (name).”

she knows your name. she knows your name. she knows your name. she knows your name. she knows you.

ah, you want to touch and be touched, but she is distant despite her closeness. so you hold the want inside. you hold the want and yourself inside.

“shàng xiān,” you sigh. if your head and your heart were a bit heavier than they are right now, you would hit yourself for disrespecting her like that.

“shàng xiān.” you sigh again, your right hand weakly reaching but not quite reaching out to her.

“you can call me jingwei.”

“i, i can’t, shàng xiān,” you sigh yet again.

“of course you can,” she says, “you are my qīzi.”

what? what?

oh. oh.

“now sleep, (name).”

she leaves the room, but this time, you stay on the bed.

it is silent. no, it is silent.

it is silent. you sleep.

Chapter Text

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

you are hers, my child, you are hers and hers only.

your two-year-old self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

you are hers, my child, you are hers and hers only.

your three-year-old self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

“xixi, keep her company while i’m out.”

that voice, that voice is familiar. ah, that voice is familiar because it’s hers. it’s her voice.

“of course, come back home safe, okay?”

that voice, that voice is unfamiliar. to whom does that voice belong to? it’s an unfamiliar voice.

you open your eyes, but you can’t see. you try to listen, but you can’t hear. you want to get up, but you can’t walk.

“shàng xiān?” you try.

“go back to sleep, (name).”

“shàng xiān?” you try again.

“sleep, (name).”

you feel a hand on your head. a hand on your head, caressing it.

it’s quiet. you sleep.

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

i’m sorry, my child, i’m so sorry. i wish you could.

your four-year-old self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

the sun is up, not too high, but up nonetheless. the sun is up and its blessings filter through the paper windows. its blessings filter through the paper windows and warm you up more than the soft blanket you didn’t even realize were around you. the blanket is soft. the blanket is warm. the sun and the blanket are warm. wait. the sun is warm. the sun. is warm. is up. oh no.
you woke up late.

oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no. oh no. oh no.

yet another failure. stupid, stupid failure.

you push yourself from the bed, push yourself to the floor. you push yourself to wake up. you can’t. the bed and the floor are too far from each other. wait. they’re not far from each other. they’re not even a step far from each other. it’s you. you’re too far from the bed, from the floor. you can’t wake up, you’re too far away. wait. your head, your head. your head.

your head is spinning, your head is spinning really, really fast.

you catch your head in your heads, it’s spinning. the room is spinning with you. no, no. the room isn’t spinning with you. you. it’s just you who’s spinning. only you and your head. ah! ah—you’re spinning.

you try to grab one of the wooden poles of the canopy bed, you try to grab one of the sides of the bedside drawer. you try to grab anything. anything, anything, as your head continue spinning and spinning and spinning. and you, as you continue to spin and spin and spin. but you fail to grab anything, as you always do, fail. you fail to grab anything as you fall hard to the ground, bringing the harsh sound of body hitting hard wood, the painful sound of body hitting hard wood with you.

you feel weak, you are weak. you were always weak, but now, now you feel even weaker than usual. you are even weaker than usual. you don’t understand why. you try to understand while trying to push yourself up, this time not from the bed, but from the floor. you try to understand as you fail to push yourself, as you fail again and again. you fail to push yourself from the floor, from the harsh and painful position your body hit the wood in. you are weak. even weaker than usual.

you hear someone. the same unfamiliar voice from earlier. wait, if it’s the same from the one earlier, then shouldn’t the voice no longer be unfamiliar? wait. earlier? what happened earlier? oh. oh. the hand. her hand. your head is still spinning, but now your head is no longer alone in its dance. you feel your heart. you feel your heart jump, jump and jump. jump to the beat of something. jump because of something. something you can’t name. something you can’t name, but can feel your heart jump because of it anyway. you hear someone again. the same voice from earlier.

“(maiden name) nǚshì!” that voice says, tone full of worry.

you feel hands on your back. very tiny hands. on your back. on your back that’s currently folded uncomfortably as your head is bowed down to the floor in pain. the hands are gentle on your back. but the voice is worried. she is worried.

“i’m not strong enough to carry you, but i’ll help you get into a better position.”

you try to help her while she’s helping you. you realize how stupid that sounds. but oh well, you are trying to help her while she’s helping you anyway.

after a lot of work, you find yourself sitting with your back to the canopy bed. sitting with your legs folded up to your chest, your chin to your knees. it’s only now that you realize that you’re not wearing the red hànfú you arrived here with. no, not the red hànfú, but its undergarments, oh no, not its undergarments, the layers are blue and new, the layers aren’t yours. it’s only now that you realize that your face is no longer colored red like when you arrived here. no, not colored red, not even colored at all, but completely bare. you realize that your hair is free, free from the decorations. you realize that it’s not only you, but also the room. the room is also no longer red.

“(maiden name) nǚshì, please drink this,” the voice says.

you realize how rude it is to keep referring to the voice as just that, so you look up. look up to the source of the voice. the voice of the person who helped you just now. it’s a girl. a tiny girl. with long brown hair and blue eyes. with long brown hair and blue eyes, clad in pure white. floating on a ball. floating. on an orb. what?

the girl laughs, “my name is book of fuxi, you can call me xixi.”

book of fuxi? the fuxi? the knower of all things?

“ah, hello, xixi,” you say, “my name is (name).”

she laughs again, “i know that, don’t worry.”

“ah—ah yes, of course, you called me earlier after all.”

she smiles, “here, (maiden name) nǚshì, please drink this.”

you nod. you nod and take the porcelain cup from her. from xixi. that’s her name. you nod and take the porcelain cup from xixi. ah, you need to thank her. so you do, you thank her for the cup. you drink the medicine inside, the taste bitter on your tongue. the taste bitter on your tongue, but relieving for your head. you thank xixi again, your head feels better now.

“i’m sorry,” you say.

“eh? for what?”

“for bothering you.”

she’s no longer smiling, her eyes are sad. why are you such a stupid failure? you make everyone sad. first, her. now, xixi too. stupid, stupid failure. first, you made her sad, now xixi too. you made her sad. you took xixi’s smile away and made her sad. why are you such a stupid, stupid failure?

“there’s no need to say sorry,” she says, defending you, “if anyone needs to say sorry, it’s jingwei! that stupid, hungry, stupidly hungry jingwei! ah, i will give her an earful when she returns home.”

you push the strangeness of this little girl calling her so familiarly aside, you simply don’t understand her words, “shàng xiān? why would she need to say sorry?”

“she took too much from you. she took too much from you and your body is hurt because of it.”

she said it so gently, but you still don’t understand, “but, why would she need to say sorry?”

“she hurt you, (maiden name) nǚshì, anyone who hurt others must say sorry.”

you do not understand. you do not understand how she hurt you. you are hers. hers, hers, hers. how did she hurt you? by eating your blood? eating you? you are hers, if she hurt you, then you needed to be hurt. so it didn’t hurt.

and you do not understand. do not understand how is she ‘anyone’. she’s not ‘anyone’. she’s the celestial. ‘anyone who hurts others must say sorry’ does not apply to her. it applies to you, to your mother (although hers are rare), to your father (although his are… rare), to everyone. but not to her. not to her. not her. she’s the celestial. the celestial does not need to say sorry for hurting others, because she can never hurt others. if it hurts, then you need to be hurt. so it doesn’t hurt.

you feel your head and heart go loud again. they’re so loud. just, loud, loud, and loud and loud. you want the voices to stop, but they never stop. your head and your heart are loud and their voices never stop.

you look at your hands. your hands are holding the clay cup you just drank from. your hands are holding the clay cup you just drank from, but now it’s trembling. your hands are trembling. oh wait, there are more hands on yours. more hands on yours and those hands are tiny. they’re xixi’s. they’re xixi’s hands.

“i’m sorry, you don’t need to take what i said to your head and heart, okay?”
you both know it’s futile, you have taken the words to your head and heart, but you nod anyway. you nod and say, “yes, of course, xixi.”

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

you are hers, my child, you are hers and hers only.

your five-year-old-self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

you are hers, my child, you are hers and hers only.

your six-year-old self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

the sun is up. the sun is up and its blessing filters through the paper windows. its blessings filter through the paper windows and warm you more than before. taixuan mountain is cool, but now that the sun is fully up, the mountain is no longer as cool as before, it’s warm and warm.

after sitting for quite a while earlier, you managed to clean and change into more proper clothes. xixi also helped you make some mántou to eat. you still feel weak, you don’t think the feeling will cease anytime soon either, but not as much as earlier. and although you still feel weak, eating the mántou you made earlier is helping you gain more strength. more strength to clean the temple later.

“you don’t have to, (maiden name) nǚshì , you can rest for a day,” xixi had said, “y’know, go outside, we can have a picnic, i can’t eat, but i can keep you company.”

“it’s okay, it’s the least i could do,” you answered, ignoring how you feel something in you at the mention of going outside, “for you. and for… for shàng xiān.”

“xixi?”

“mhm?”

you hesitate.

“does… does shàng xiān need to eat food like this too?”

stupid, stupid failure. what kind of question is that? stupid, stupid, failure. stupid.

“she doesn’t need any food other than blood to live.”

ah. stupid, stupid failure. the things you were taught are all nothing but failure.

she hesitates.

“a-ah, but she still eats other foods!”

oh. not all.

“thank you, xixi,” you say as you think of a dinner you can make for her, well, a dinner other than that.

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

i’m sorry, my child, i’m so sorry. i wish you could.

your seven-year-old self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

the moon is up, not too high, but up nonetheless. the moon is up, and its blessing filters through the paper windows. its blessings filters through the paper windows and embraces you in all of its beauty. you are calm. you are calm as you continue cleaning the spots you haven’t finished cleaning earlier. you are still not used to the way things are placed and sorted here, the way things work here, but it’s okay, xixi guided you through everything. you can learn, you will learn. you are calm when you spent quite a bit of your time earlier making dinner for her. you were still not used to the way things work here, but it’s okay, xixi guided you through everything. you can learn, you will learn.

“jingwei!” you hear xixi call.

“xixi.”

“aiya, just ‘xixi’ is not enough.”

you hear her chuckle, “xixi, i’m home.”

“mhm, welcome home.”

ah. ah. wait. you are not calm. you are the farthest thing from calm. the furthest thing from calm. she’s here. she’s here, she’s here, she’s here, she’s here. you don’t realize you dropped your broom until you hear the thud of wood on wood. you don’t realize you dropped your cloth until you hear the thud of cotton on wood. she’s here. she’s here and you’re not calm. you are not calm.

but you are hers. you are hers, so you have to greet her. you have to greet her because you are hers. you are hers, so you go to the entrance, and bow your head and back a bit, like you were taught many times before. you go to the entrance and greet her.

“shàng xiān, welcome home.”

“(name),” she nods, “i’m home.”

you know it is not home. you know it’s not home for you. it’s not home for her as well because you are here. you are hers, but she is not yours. you are not her home. she is not your… no, she is home. she is not yours, but she is home, she must be home. you are not her home. you know it’s not home.

“this one,” you start, “this one made dinner.”

“but i, but i don’t—” “yes, (maiden name) nǚshì made dinner!”

“xixi?” “just go to the table and sit down, jingwei.”

your hands shake as they bring the dinner you made with xixi earlier to the table. you’ve made the dishes so many times before, having only the permission to do that at your leisure. you’ve made the dishes so many times before, you know the dinner is good, it’s the one thing you know you can never fail in. you’ve made the dishes so many times before, but your hands shake anyway.

you feel hands on your hands. ah, it’s xixi. wait. they’re not xixi’s. the hands are bigger, much bigger compared to xixi’s. they’re soft and gentle on yours. ah, it’s her. it’s her hands. she’s holding your hands. you feel her hands on your hands.

“i will help you.”

“ah—there’s no need, shàng xiān.”

“it’s alright, i want to help you.”

you sit across her. there are only two seats. she sits across you. there are only two seats.

“jingwei, (maiden name) nǚshì,” xixi says, “i’ll go and do some work.”

wait! wait. you want to say. don’t leave me here. wait, wait. you want to say.

you put your shaking hands together in a prayer. you feel her eyes watching you, her blue, blue eyes. you put your hands together in a prayer and pray. pray to the celestial, the celestial right across you, the celestial you sit across from. you wonder if she can hear your prayers. you pray your thanks for the food, pray your thanks for the celestial herself. you feel her eyes watching you through the whole thing, her blue, blue eyes. you wonder if she can hear your prayers. if her eyes are watching because she is hearing your prayers. or perhaps if her eyes are watching you because she isn’t. you pray and it feels so wrong. it has never felt wrong. you don’t dare question it, but you pray and it feels so wrong.

you realize you haven’t looked at her in the eyes this whole time.

“shàng xiān, thank you for the food.”

“yes, (name), thank you for the food.”

you eat. your hands shake when you try to get some rice to your chopsticks. your hands shake when you try to get some gōng bǎo jī dīng to your chopsticks. your hands shake when you try to get some dòufu to your soup spoon. your hands shake when you try to get some soup to your, well, your soup spoon. your hands shake as you try to drink the tea in the porcelain cup. you feel her eyes watching you every few attempts, every few sad attempts.

you realize you haven’t looked at her in the eyes this whole time.

“(name).”

“… yes, shàng xiān?”

“you cook very well.”

oh. oh.

“thank, thank you, shàng xiān.” you say, holding your hands. “this one is honored.”

she frowns. oh no. did you fail again? what did you do wrong? she’s frowning. oh no, oh no, oh no. you must’ve failed again. but what? what did you do wrong? what did you fail?

“do you remember what happened last night?”

huh? “yes, shàng xiān. this one remembers.”

“you can call me jingwei.”

huh? “yes, shàng xiān. this one remembers.”

wait.

“ah, this one is sorry, ji, jingwei dárén.”

“just jingwei is fine, (name), and you can call yourself more informally too.”

“but, but jingwei dárén is shàng xiān, this one cannot just say shàng xiān’s name.”

she sighs, gentle, “alright, call yourself more informally too.”

“this one—” “what if i call myself ‘this one’ too?”

“eh? shàng—jingwei dárén?”

“this one would like her qīzi to call herself more informally.”

you feel your head and your heart go light. not that again. not that. no, no, no. you feel something in you. you can’t name what it is, but you feel it anyway. you feel something in you, something you can’t name, something you feel anyway. not that again.

“i understand, jingwei dárén, please don’t refer to yourself so lowly again.”

she hums.

“i mean it when i say you cook very well, (name).”

your head and your heart have not left their high.

“thank you, jingwei dárén.”

“i’d be happy to come home to your cooking every night.”

that’s it. your head and your heart will never leave their high.

“thank, thank you, jingwei dárén.”

you return to your bowl. your hands don’t shake anymore. she returns to her bowl. your hands don’t shake anymore.

“(name), i’m sorry.”

“jingwei dárén? for what?”

“for last night, i took too much from you,” she explains.

ah, this. did xixi tell her when you were plating the dishes?

“it is alright, jingwei dárén, i’m here for you to take.”

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

“jingwei dárén must have been hungry, it’s been quite a while since the last bride after all. our—the marriage—the… the thing also had to be postponed for a few years because i was too young. jingwei dárén must have been so hungry. so it’s alright, i’m here for you to take, as much or as little as you need. jingwei dárén doesn’t need to be hungry anymore, at least for as long as jingwei dárén would have me.”

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

you wash the dishes as she prepares for the night. you wash the dishes as she prepares for the night, for the true dinner she needs. you wash as well as possible, wash as well and quickly as possible. you can’t make her wait.

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

you are hers, my child, you are hers and hers only.

your eight-year-old self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

you are hers, my child, you are hers and hers only.

your nine-year-old self did not understand, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

you find your way to her bedroom, or is it your bedroom? ‘our’ bedroom? there is only one room, so it must be hers. oh, oh. so you slept in her bedroom last night. you didn’t feel her next to you though. did she sleep somewhere else? she is kind. she is too kind. she should’ve told you to leave. you tell yourself to leave after she eats. you find your way to her bedroom.

you sit on the bed.

you hear footsteps, calm and composed. you hear your heart, the complete opposite.

she is here. she’s bathed in blue like you. she is here. she is here. blue, blue, blue.

she is here.

she is here.

her eyes. you realize you haven’t looked at her in the eyes this whole time, so now you do. you look at her eyes. they’re so blue. they’re so beautiful. she’s so beautiful. her eyes. her.

“(name)? do you not want to sleep yet?”

“huh?” you say dumbly, “but i thought...?”

“oh no, no, i don’t need it every night.”

“ah, i understand.” you say while standing up.

“(name)? do you not want to sleep yet?”

“huh?” you say dumbly, “i, i do.”

“where are you going then?”

she takes your hands in hers, she pulls you to her sitting form.

“there is only one bedroom, if you want to sleep alone, just sleep here.”

“i, i can’t, jingwei dárén,” you say, head and heart loud, very loud.

“of course you can, i just told you, right?” she says, caressing your hands.

“but,” you pause, “but jingwei dárén must sleep here too.”

“yes, as long as you sleep here.”

“that’s not fair, dárén!” you say, desperate after realizing what she’s doing. realizing what she’s doing to you. and it’s not the first time either.

“of course it’s fair, (name), and don’t forget my name, else i’ll call you qīzi all the time.”

you feel your head and your heart go light. not that again. not that. again. no, no, no. you feel something in you. you can’t name what it is, but you feel it anyway. again. you feel something in you, something you can’t name, something you feel anyway. again. not that again.

“yes, jingwei dárén,” you say, desperate again.

she pulls you to her sitting form. to her now half-sitting and half-lying form. to her now lying form.

you are next to her. she is next to you. both of you are next to each other, under the same blanket.

she is still holding one of your hands. one of your hands.

“sleep, (name).”

“a-niáng, why can’t i go outside?”

i’m sorry, my child, i’m so sorry. i wish you could.

you have never understood her words, but it’s okay,

you are your mother’s child,

so you must listen to your mother’s words.

“(name)? are you still awake?” she whispers.

“yes, jingwei dárén, i’m still awake,” you whisper back.

you tilt your head to the right, she tilts her head to the left.

your eyes meet.

“do you want to go outside with me?”

“e-eh…? shàng—jingwei dárén?”

“tomorrow, i’ll take you outside with me.”

outside.

she smiles.

she smiles at you.

you smile too.

you smile at her.

Chapter Text

“why me, a-diē? why me?”
silence, child, do what u are told to do.

your hands are warm.

your hands are warm. they are warm. your hands are warm because of her.

she is holding your hands. she is holding your hands while she sleeps, at peace. she sleeps on her left side, at peace. you are lying on your right side, far from peace. she is holding your hands while she sleeps, with both of her own. enveloping both of yours with both her own. both her own, both of her thumbs, gently caressing yours. you are lying on your right side, far from peace.

your cheeks are warm.

your cheeks are warm. they are warm. your cheeks are warm because of her.

she is not holding your cheeks. she isn’t holding your cheeks while she sleeps, at peace. she sleeps on her left side, at peace. you are lying on your right side, far from peace. she is not holding our cheeks while she sleeps, but your cheeks are warm. your cheeks are so warm, so warm that you are grateful that she’s not. not holding them, that is. you are lying on your right side, far from peace.

she looks beautiful. she is beautiful. she looks beautiful like this, at peace. she is beautiful, always, but when she is at peace. when she is at peace, she is even more beautiful.

you look at her hands, the same ones that have never stopped their ministrations since last night. the same ones that have never stopped being gentle, the gentlest hands you’ve ever felt on your being, gentle on you since they’ve first touched you. you look at her hands, move your own, so it is yours that are enveloping hers. your hands are enveloping hers and without wasting any more time, the same ones are caressing hers in return. caressing the coldness away, the coldness they’ve been enduring the entire night to keep yours warm.

your heart aches.

it is still much too early, much too early to start the day. the moon is still comfortable up there in the sky, accompanied by its countless friends, never lonely. it is still much too early, the moon is still comfortable up there, and you find yourself still feeling comfortable down here. the moon is accompanied by its countless friends, and you may not have countless friends like it, but you are accompanied by her. you find that to be more than enough. you are comfortable here. it is still much too early, but it’s alright, you will stay a bit longer.

“a-diē, please don’t hit a-(name).”

then do what you are told to do.

“a-(name) understands, a-diē.”

do what you are told to do, child.

“yes,” head spinning, “yes, a-diē.”

that means to stop crying, child.

(on your back, again, and again.

again, again, again. on your back.)

the sun is almost up. the sun is almost up when you are already fully up. fully up in the kitchen, fingers coated in a thin layer of flour. fingers coated in a thin layer of flour, hands too, holding a piece of bāozi dough. the same bāozi that are currently in a steamer tray, ready to be steamed for breakfast. your flour-coated fingers are deft in closing each bun, making them look like eight-petal flowers, flowers of luck.

“ah!” you hear xixi say, “(maiden name) nǚshì, you’re already up!”

“good morning, xixi,” you greet her, “yes, i am. do you think these are okay?”

(the “will she like them?” is left unsaid, but you know she knows it anyway.)

“of course, (maiden name) nǚshì, they look really good and i don’t even eat!”

you find yourself smiling at that.

“a-diē, can i—(a)-name sleep now?”
not until you finish your crying, child.

“good morning, (name),” you hear her greet you, “the bāozi looks really good.”

“ah, good morning, jingwei dárén,” you greet her back, “thank you, i hope you—"

her hair. her hair is down. her hair is down and it’s still a bit wet. her hair. she looks beautiful.

“—like them.”

“you should go change now, (name), i can plate them for us.”

when you return to the room, you see a clean hànfú folded neatly on the bed. the same bed you two spent the night in. the hànfú is dyed turquoise with black and white accents. your heart skips a beat. it may not look like the one she is wearing, but it is dyed in the same colors. your heart almost skipped another beat. it’s because today is today. today she will take you outside. she just doesn’t want the two of you to look too different. nothing more. yes, they may be both dyed in the same colors, but it’s just because she doesn’t want the two of you to look too different. nothing more.

you change into the hànfú, making sure to do every step properly, you can’t embarrass her. you change into the hànfú, then you style your hair up a bit. your hands move deftly as you brush each strand, part each strand, style each strand, you can’t embarrass her. your hànfú is not a mess, and now, your hair isn’t too. you put the mirror on the dresser back to its place, put the brush back to its place. you only have a few hours left, a few hours left before you can go outside.

when you return to the kitchen, you see her sitting and eating the bāozi you made with a calm expression. she is always so calm. you’d say it balances the opposing feeling you’re always in when she is around, but you don’t because you don’t think anything can balance it. not even her and her calmness. she is eating your bāozi with a calm expression, and when she sees you return, she smiles a small smile.

“they don’t only look good, but they taste really good too, (name).”

“thank you, jingwei dárén, please eat as much as you like, i’m glad.”

“come eat with me too.”

breakfast is quiet, but the pleasant kind of quiet.

“a-diē, can a-(name) go sleep now?”

go, child, leave and go to sleep now.

“let’s go, (name).”

“yes, jingwei dárén.”

the first step down the mountain feels, freeing. you are not free. you know this. you are not free, you are hers. you are hers, but she is not yours, so she is free. you are not free, but you feel like you are, as the first step down the mountain turns to the second, third, fourth. so on and so on. you feel free even when you aren’t because she is here sharing her freedom with you.

the outside is nice.

she walks in front of you. you walk behind her. she stops. you stop too. she stretches out her right hand. you look at her. look at her hand. look at her again. she looks at you. only at you. look at you again. you stretch out your right hand. you take her hand. it’s an awkward position, but you can’t possibly take the hand of the celestial with your left.

“walk next to me, (name).”

“ah, ah yes, jingwei dárén.”

you thought she would let go, but she doesn’t. she walks next to you. you walk next to her. hand in hand.

the outside is nice.

you hear her chuckle.

“jingwei dárén? what is it?”

“this is quite a funny position.”

“ah—ah, i’m sorry.”

“it’s funny, (name). it’s alright.”

“ah, i’m sorry—i mean, yes.”

you feel her eyes on you, but you don’t dare think about it.

you first heard about her, no, not her, when you were four.
perhaps that’s why your mother sounded so sad, so, so sad.

you arrive with her in an unfamiliar town when the sun is almost fully up. you figured that she wouldn’t bring you to your hometown, not because she can’t let you see your family, but because—wait. that’s exactly the ‘because’ of it. she can’t let you see your family. not because she doesn’t want you to see them, but because you seeing them will be a misfortune. them seeing you will be a misfortune for them and the town. mostly for them, but also the town. ah, and you too, you suppose. so arriving in the unfamiliar town with her makes your heart skip a beat because that means she cares. or at least she cares enough to keep you alive.

“this town is known for its various arts, so we should be able to find the things you like here.”

you repeat what she said over and over in your head. she said ‘find the things you like here,’ right? yes, she said that. she said ‘find the things you like’ just now. you repeat what she said over and over. this trip is for you.

the outside is nice.

she keeps holding your hand through the whole thing. through the whole thing that is you walking through the town, lively from day to dusk. walking through the town, eating everything that made your mouth water (“ah, there’s no need, jingwei dárén.” “i already bought it for you, (name).”). walking through the town, buying everything that caught your eyes (“please, there’s no need, jingwei dárén.” “i already bought it for you, (name).”). she keeps holding your hand through the whole thing. it makes you confused.

you are hers, but she is not yours. you, you may be hers, but she is not yours. why is she so kind? you are married to her, yes, but from what she told you, you’re not even something that she wanted. you are married to her, yes, but from what she told you, the marriage, it’s not even something that she wanted. why is she so kind?

your thoughts are interrupted by a scream. no, not a scream, two screams. three screams. more screams. your thoughts are interrupted and your head hurts. the screams, they hurt. they hurt, hurt, hurt.

you feel her eyes on you, you don’t dare think about it.

“(name), i will go there for a bit, stay here, okay?”

you want to answer, but you can’t, your head hurts.

“(name)? stay here, okay? i will be back in a bit.”

you want to answer, but you can’t, your head hurts.

you nod. she lets go of your hand for the first time in hours.

you feel her eyes on you, you don’t dare think about it.

you heard about her, no, not her, again when you were seven.
perhaps that’s why your mother sounded so sad, so, so sad.

you find yourself holding a few small bags filled with the things she bought you earlier with both hands now. both hands….

“you are shàng xiān’s wife aren’t you, xiǎo fūrén?”

you hear a voice from the shop next to you say, you look to the direction it’s coming from, it’s the shop owner, an old man, fingers deft as he knots patterns from a piece of cord.

“ah, it’s (maiden name). how should i address you, lǎoshī?”

“just wang is fine, (maiden name) fūrén,” he answers, “i see you are from the (maiden name) family. your family has been very favored these past few generations.”

“ah,” you say dumbly, “yes, i’m from the (maiden name) family, wang shī. thank you.”

that ‘thank you’ sounded more like a question than an actual ‘thank you,’ but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“do you want to look around, (maiden name) fūrén?”

“eh?” you say before nodding. “sure, wang shī."

like most of the shops, this one has a big window where the seller stands behind to take orders. since this one is an artisan shop, instead of the window being empty, there are lots of skillfully-made knots and stones displayed. there’s also a sign that says ‘wáng de zhōngguójié’ – wang’s chinese knots – it must be the shop’s name.

you look through the displayed items. you look through all of them in fascination. such beautiful craftsmanship. you look through the displayed items, that is, until you find it.

the prettiest red agate you’ve ever seen, this is a lot, as you’ve seen many before. the red agate is so vivid, so red. red, red, red. it’s also cut so precisely to a small ball, so vivid and red, red, red, red. it’s truly the prettiest red agate you’ve ever seen.

“wang shī? do you take custom requests?”

“of course we do, (maiden name) fūrén!” he laughs a very grandfather-like laugh. “we pride ourselves in our custom requests.”

“ah, but is it okay if the custom request is,” you hesitate, “for right now?”

“as long as i can do it, then it’s okay, (maiden name) fūrén!”

you smile and tell him your request (“(maiden name) fūrén, this is an easy request, you really didn’t have to feel so hesitant!” he laughs the same laugh.). you still smile and tell him your praise (“(maiden name) fūrén flatters this wang shī, this must mean a seven-generation fortune for us wangs!” he laughs the same laugh.).

she is still not back when wang shī hands you a small wooden box. she is still not back when you hand wang shī a small handful of coins. she is still not back when you open the small wooden box, to be fascinated yet again by the craftsmanship.

it’s the same red agate ball from earlier, but now attached to the bottom is a tassel, a turquoise tassel. the same color you are wearing right now. the same color she is wearing right now. it’s the same red agate ball from earlier with a turquoise tassel for her.

it’s only fair that you buy her something after her spending so much to buy everything for you, right?

you try to tell yourself that. you try to believe that. yes, it is only fair to do that. there is nothing weird about a wife gifting her wife a present, right? you try to tell yourself that. you try to believe that. it’s just paying her back. just paying her back, nothing more. nothing more.

you close the box again and put it in one of the bags you are carrying, trying to ignore your heart, your rapidly beating heart.

you heard about her, no, not her, again and again after.
perhaps that’s why your mother always sounded so, so sad.

you find yourself feeling more and more unwell as the sun kisses the horizon goodbye, as the dusk turns to night. she is still not back. many of the shops in the street are now closed, only a few others and wang shī’s are still open (“it’s alright, (maiden name) fūrén, it’s not safe for you if all the shops are closed, i don’t mind closing a bit later for one night.” he said, waving his hand in a grandfather-like way.). many of the shops in the street are now closed, but she is still not back. you find yourself feeling more and more unwell. both your head and heart, both of them, ah, and also your body. your body. your body is as weak as ever.

your head and heart are loud. so, so, so, loud. they won’t cease their voices. you are both worried about her and also her. is she alright? the celestial couldn’t possibly get hurt, right? the celestial couldn’t possibly get hurt too much that she can’t return, right? or… or—loud. your head and heart are loud. so, so, so, loud. or did she leave you here? did she leave you here because you’re right, you’re right that she never wanted you, will never want you. did she leave you here? that would explain the kindness. that would explain everything. you’re a failure. a failure. a stupid, stupid failure. of course! of course, she did! your head and heart are loud, so, so loud—

“(name)!”

your head and heart are quiet. they ceased their voices. they ceased their voices after you heard that voice, her voice, her. your head and heart ceased their voices.

she’s on the other side of the street. she’s on the other side of the street, so that means. that means she’s here.

she goes to you, fast, she goes to you with worry in her face.

you don’t know why, but you, you go to her, fast. you go to her.

“jingwei dárén.” you say, breathless as you hold on to her arms, “i was so worried!”

“i’m sorry, (name), i didn’t keep my promise,” she says, her eyes wide for a bit before returning back to her calm blue, “i’m sorry, let’s go home.”

“no need to say sorry, jingwei dárén,” you say, still breathless, still holding her, “and yes, let’s go home.”

the two of you walk back to wang shī’s shop to thank him, he returns the thanks with his own, saying that the celestial and her wife’s thanks are yet another seven-generation fortune. the two of you walk back to the fog mount temple, the walk back is far and it’s already dark, but with her, you feel safe. you are safe. with her.

one day, you stopped hearing about her, no, not her, her.

your mother stopped sounding sad, but you know she is anyway.

you don’t understand, but, you know that she is sad anyway.

your body feels weak. you feel like falling. your body feels weak. you are falling.

“jingwei dárén, i’m sorry,” you say, “it’s alright though, i can still walk.”

she kneels in front of you, she takes your hands in hers again, she caresses your hands with hers again.

“you know you can’t, (name),” she says gently, “here, i’ll carry you.”

“e-eh?” what, what. what. what?

“i’ll carry you, (name),“ she says again, just as gentle, “come.”

she adjusts her position. she is still kneeling in front of you, but now she’s facing what’s in front of you.

she carries you like you weigh nothing. she carries you like you weigh nothing, like you are the lightest thing in the world.

your hands are still holding the same bags from earlier, your arms are hanging on her shoulders. your hands are still holding the same bags from earlier, her hands are holding your legs. her hands are holding your legs, your feet are hanging from her hands.

your head and heart are loud, but their voices do not hurt. their voices make you shy.

you lean your head to hers. her hair smells nice. she smells nice. you like it, she smells like ink and flowers. you like it. you lean your head to hers even more. you like it here.

the outside, what is it like out there?

“jingwei, (maiden name) nǚshì!” xixi says, “finally! i was so worried!”

“i’m home, xixi,” you hear her say, “i’m sorry, but please help her first.”

“i’m home too, xixi,” you say to xixi. she smiles at you, not at her though.

you’d chuckle if you weren’t so weak.

you find yourself in the bedroom.

you sit on the bed. holding the box from earlier.

you hear footsteps, calm and composed. you hear your heart, the complete opposite.

she is here. she’s bathed in blue. she is here. she is here. blue, blue, blue.

she is here. you’re holding the box from earlier.

she is here.

“(name)? do you not want to sleep yet?”

“i was waiting for you, jingwei dárén.”

“you shouldn’t have, go sleep, (name).”

“ah, wait, jingwei dárén, before that."

you hesitate.

“before that, i want to give you something.”

you hesitate again.

“can, can you sit next to me?”

“of course,” she says, her eyes wide.

she sits on the bed next to you. you’re holding the box from earlier.

“you bought me a lot of things today, so i bought this for you in return.”

“you shouldn’t have, (name), i bought them for you because i wanted to.”

you smile. “i bought this for you because i wanted to too, jingwei dárén.”

she takes the box, gentle, always gentle with you, even when ‘with you’ isn’t even with you, but a box from you. she opens the box, gentle, always gentle with you, even when ‘with you’ isn’t even with you, but a box from you.

she smiles at you. “thank you, (name). i love it.”

your head and your heart have not left their high.

“you’re welcome, jingwei dárén.” you smile too

“it’s beautiful,” she says, “i will wear it every day.”

your head and your heart will never leave their high.

she closes the box, gentle, always gentle with you, even when ‘with you’ isn’t even with you, but a box from you.

she takes your hands in hers. she pulls you to her sitting form. to her now half-sitting and half-lying form. to her now lying form.

“sleep, (name).”

“good night, jingwei dárén.”

“good night, (name).”

the outside is nice. the outside is nice, but being with her is more than nice.

Chapter Text

you must listen to her, a-(name), listen to her and follow her. always.
“yes, a-niáng, i will listen to her, i will follow her, always and always.”

“(name), where would you like me put the tassel on?”

you move your eyes from the shuǐjiǎo you are making. you move your eyes from the shuǐjiǎo to look at her. her, standing in front of the table, holding the tassel you gave her last night as if it is precious. holding the tassel and looking at you. you move your eyes to the tassel, then to her again, then to her tassel again.

“jingwei dárén can put the tassel anywhere she wants.”

“anywhere ‘you’ want, (name),” she says.

ah. of course. you hit your hand. of course. you failed again. you can’t fail again.
you move your eyes to your hand. about to hit it again. you move your eyes to your hand,
about to hit it again, when you feel a hand on each of your wrists.

“(name),” she says, firm, “(name).”

“y-yes, shàng—jingwei dárén?”

“breathe.” she says, her thumbs moving to caress your palms.

she’s close, she’s so close. her face is a hair’s breadth away from you. she’s close. she’s so, so close. you know she wants you to breathe, but she’s so close. so close. her face is a hair’s breadth away from you, so close. you can’t breathe.

“i-i can’t, shàng—jingwei dárén,” you say, desperate, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—”

“(name),” she says, firm, “(name).” you want to breathe so desperately, it hurts, it hurts.

“i can’t breathe, dárén,” you say, desperate, “i can’t breathe, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. sorry.”

she sits across you. she seems to know of your inner battles. she sits across you, continues her caresses. she is not burning, she is warm. you are not burning, you are warm. she seems to know of your inner battles, so she pulled away her face from yours. she pulled her face from yours, now you can breathe. she is not burning you, she is warm. you are not burning, you are warm. she sits across you and now you can breathe.

one, two, three. three, two, one.

one, two, three. three, two, one.

she looks like she is about to say something to you, but that look is immediately replaced.

“i’m sorry, dárén,” you say.

“it’s alright. there’s no need to say sorry.”

“but—” “it’s alright, (name).”

she hesitates.

“if i say that it’s alright, then it’s alright.”

you must listen to her, a-(name), listen to her and follow her. always.
“yes, a-niáng, i will listen to her, i will follow her, always and always.”

ah, yes. if she says that it’s alright, then it’s alright.

if she says that it’s alright, then it’s alright. yes, yes.

you two stay like that for what seems like an eternity. you sitting across her, her sitting across you. an eternity to stay like that would be nice. but you must end that eternity.

“jingwei dárén can put the tassel anywhere you want.”

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

“i want you to choose, (name), choose anywhere.”

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

“ah… then, on—uh,” you hesitate.

“then on, uh, on the,” you hesitate, again.

“on jingwei dárén’s waist.”

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

“alright, thank you, (name).”

she lets go of your hands, you find yourself missing that warmth immediately. she gently lets go of your hands, gently takes the tassel from the table. you find yourself missing that warmth immediately, but it soon returns without warning. it returns without warning when she gently ties the tassel to the sash on her waist. to her waist.

“what do you think, (name)?” she asks, voice soft.

“what does jingwei dárén think?” you answer, just as soft.

“i asked for what you think,” she says, voice even softer.

“i, i think,” you say, just as soft, “it’s beautiful on dárén.”

jingwei dárén is beautiful. you want to say. so beautiful.

“thank you,” she says, voice still soft, “i think so too.”

you must listen to her, a-(name), listen to her and follow her. always.
“yes, a-niáng, i will listen to her, i will follow her, always and always.”

“will you be fine on your own, (maiden name) nǚshì?”

“yes, i will be fine, xixi,” you say, “come home safe.”

you are used to be alone after all. all your life, being the bride of the celestial. all you know is being alone, all you are used to is being alone. even when you were with others, you are still alone. no, not lonely. yes, you were lonely, but it wasn’t loneliness. when you were with others, you are still alone, they don’t dare talk to you. they don’t dare talk to you, in fear. in fear of so many things. so many things you don’t even remember. all you know is being alone, all you are used to is being alone. you are used to be alone.

(“xixi, this may sound disrespectful,” you start, hesitant, “but.”

“it’s alright, (maiden name) nǚshì,” she says, “what is it?”

“what, who exactly are you?” you ask, hesitant, “what do you do?”

“i’m book of fuxi, (maiden name) nǚshì!” she laughs, light and clear.

“my lady creators, fuxi and nuwa, created me to help jingwei,”

“and now, to help you too. so don’t hesitate to ask for help!”)

you must be alone.

“we will, (maiden name) nǚshì.”

you are alone.

you must listen to her, a-(name), listen to her and follow her. always.

“yes, a-niáng, i will listen to her, i will follow her, always and always.”

you are alone.

the temple is quiet.

you look at the wall, look at the painting on the wall. two figures. one red, one blue. you look at the wall. look at the painting on the wall. fuxi, the knower of all things. nuwa, the mother of all things. you look at the wall, look at the painting on the wall. fuxi, nuwa. you know the stories by heart. they’re the first stories that were told to you, will be the last stories too. the stories say they ascended to the heavens. ascended to the heavens after saving the mortal realm. you know the stories by heart. but as you look at the wall. as you look at the painting on the wall. you start to wonder if that is true. because if it is true, then why… why does the table look so much like an altar?

are they—are they… dea—

you hit your hand.

no. no. no. you hit your hand.

no. you hit your hand. no.

(“xixi, about your lady creators,” you hesitate, again.

“mhm?” xixi hums, “what about my lady creators?”

“they used to live here,” you say, hesitant, “with you.”

the ‘and her’ is left unsaid, but you know she knows.

“yes, (maiden name) nǚshì. here in the cloud monastery.”

“cloud monastery?” “it’s fog mount temple’s old name.”

“ah, i see.” you nod, still hesitant. “thank you.”)

the sun is still up when you are done drawing. the sun is still up, but not for long, when you are done drawing. you close the book she bought you yesterday. you close the book and put it on the shelf in the bedroom. you close the book and store the graphite in its box. you close the box and put it on the shelf in the bedroom.

the sun is still up when you are done making dinner. noodles, ready to be boiled later when she arrives, and shuǐjiǎo, the ones from earlier, ready to be boiled later when she arrives. the sun is still up, but not for long, when you are done making dinner.

you take a clean hànfú from the drawer, take a clean cloth from the drawer.

after a few minutes of walking, you find yourself in front of the springs you’ve bathed yourself in for the past few days. you find yourself in front of the springs, putting the hànfú and cloth on a clean slab of stone. putting yourself on a clean slab of stone, taking off your layers one by one. you soon find yourself bare, your face, your hair, your body, your entire being. bare.

you walk into the springs, you walk into the springs and bathe yourself.

you must listen to her, a-(name), listen to her and follow her. always.
“yes, a-niáng, i will listen to her, i will follow her, always and always.”

the sun is still up when you are back in the fog mount temple. the sun is still up, but truly not for long, when you are back, clean. the sun will no longer be up in just a few hours, but you know they won’t be back until later, so you walk to the bedroom. you walk to the bedroom, it’s easy now. it may only have been a few days, but it’s easy now.

you lay yourself on the canopy bed, right on the left side, leaving the other side empty. it’s her side. you lay yourself, right on the left side, tilting your head to the right. to the empty other side. to her side. you can smell the flowers, the ink. you can smell her. lingering on the rectangular pillow. on the rectangular blanket. on the rectangular bed. you can smell her, lingering. if you just, move a bit to the right, move a bit to the empty other side, to her side. you will be able to smell her more. but you don’t.

she is distant. no matter how close she is, she is distant. you saw it on the first night, you still see it now. you saw it on the second, the third, you still see it now. you see it, you feel it. she is distant. always there, but never there. she is always away, no matter how is she is always there. you may be weak, but you are not weak. so, you don’t.

you cover yourself with the blanket. you’re only wearing the innermost layer of the hànfú you took earlier, it is a bit cold. you cover yourself with the blanket, sleepy because of the almost-dusk air filtering through the windows. because of the cold air filtering through the windows.

“(name), we’re home.”

what?

“shàng—jingwei dárén? xixi?”
“yes, (maiden name) nǚshì!”

you move your being from the bed, from the bedroom.

“welcome home, jingwei dárén, xixi.”

why did they come home early? you haven’t prepared dinner yet. why did they come home early? you haven’t prepared dinner yet. why, why, why? why? ah, why do you always fail.

“this one—i haven’t finished making dinner yet,” you say, “i’m sorry, please wait for a bit.”

“it’s alright, (name), it’s our fault, we told you that the earliest we usually return is after sundown, and it’s true,” she explains, “but something happened that we had to return earlier.”

ah. it’s alright. yes, if she says that it’s alright, then it’s alright. you didn’t fail this one. yes.

“wh-what is it, jingwei dárén?” you ask, voice soft.

“there is something i need to take care of somewhere far.”

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

“i won’t be home for a few days.”

you shiver, it’s cold. there’s also something else. that.

there’s also that. you raise your forearms to your chest.

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

“i, xixi will keep you company when i’m not home.”

eh?

“but jingwei dárén, if it’s somewhere far, then she should go with you instead.”

“no, no, (maiden name) nǚshì, jingwei will be alright.”

“i will be alright too, xixi, you should go with shàng xiān.” you shiver, it’s cold.

“no, no, you will be alright, but you will be alone!”

“but if you stay at home, then shàng xiān will be alone.” you shiver, it’s cold.

you feel her blue eyes on you. you feel her eyes on you. blue.

“ah, but that’s alright, because i’m also your helper!”

“but you said you’re shàng xiān’s helper first.”

“ah, well, jingwei wants me to stay at home with you.”

“ah.” you shiver, it’s cold. cold. you feel it on your being.

you feel her blue eyes on you. you feel her eyes on you. blue.

“yes, (name), i want her to stay at home with you.”

you must listen to her, a-(name), listen to her and follow her. always.
“yes, a-niáng, i will listen to her, i will follow her, always and always.”

you quickly boil the noodles and shuǐjiǎo for her to bring later. you quickly pack the dinner in a container for her to bring later.

you join her in the bedroom. she is wearing a different hànfú now. unlike the turquoise one, this one is more like a warrior’s. unlike the turquoise one, the one that looks so much like a celestial’s, this one is so much more like a warrior’s. white, gray, black. the only colors that seem to exist in the warrior’s hànfú. her arms and sleeves are bound tight by the gloves she is wearing. her legs and sleeves are bound tight by the boots she is wearing. she doesn’t look like a celestial right now, she looks more like, so much more like a warrior right now. your head and heart are loud.

wait, no, the colors. they’re not just white, gray, black. no, not just them. you see it. the tassel. you see the tassel. she wears it on her waist. she wears the tassel on her waist. so the colors are no longer just white, gray, black. no, the hair too. you see her hair. her hair is up, tied with a long red ribbon. the colors are no longer just white, gray, black. your head and heart are loud.

“jingwei dárén, i’m here,” you announce your presence.

she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

"you're getting closer to xixi, (name)," she says, "i'm glad."

you don't know what to say, so you stay quiet. stay quiet, like you were taught to.

“you should wear another layer outside the bedroom next time, (name),” she starts, whispering.

you nod and go sit on the bed. sit on the bed, proper. you nod again, sit on the bed, proper.

“outside is cold, i saw you shiver earlier,” she continues, “another layer would’ve been proper.”

you nod. “i saw more than the shivers earlier, outside is cold. remember, (name), another layer.”

your head and heart are loud. she—she couldn’t be talking about that, right? your head and heart are loud. loud, loud, loud. she is. she is talking about that. you raise your forearms to your chest. your head and heart are so loud. you feel shame.

you feel gentle hands on your wrists. her hands. she pulls your forearms down, gentle.

“there’s no need to hide them, (name),” she says, “i’ve seen them anyway.”

your head and heart are so loud. you feel your entire being burning. you feel shame.

“i will leave for a few days,” she starts, “i will leave for a few days.”

“can i, can i take it from you?” she continues, now holding your hands.

your head and heart are so loud. she just talked about that to you, whispered about that to you. whispered it to you in that tone of hers. and in a heartbeat, or more heartbeats, your heart are skipping so many, she talked about eating your blood, whispered about eating your blood. whispered it to you in that tone of hers. you feel your entire being burning. burning even more. you feel shame.

but you nod anyway, because that’s what you have to do. you nod.

“of course, jingwei dárén,” you say.

you let go of her hands. you let go of her hands and slip yours to one of the collars of your hànfú. you slip the collar away, exposing the skin underneath, the neck, the collar underneath. she looks at them with the same hunger as a few nights ago. the hunger that wasn’t there all these days, but is here at night. she looks at them with the same hunger as a few nights ago, but with something else. something like regret. it must be the scars. she looks at them with regret, but the hunger is louder.

she pushes you down. down to lie down on the bed. she spreads your legs apart and you feel your entire body burn even more. this is different. she spreads your legs apart and settles between them. your entire body burns even more. this is much too different. she spreads your collars apart and you feel your entire body burn even more. this is different. she spreads your collars apart and settles between them. this is much too different. your entire body is burning. outside is cold, but you’re burning.

you smell her. you smell the flowers and the ink. you smell her. they overwhelm you.

your mind is filled with her. her, her, her. she is burning, burning you. you are burning.

“this will hurt for a bit, but the pain will be gone as soon as it comes.”
the words aren’t different. they’re not different. but your voice is lost, so you hum.

she bites.

your head and heart are screaming. they’re screaming for the pain to stop. it’s painful.

it hurts, hurts, hurts. it hurts. you want it to stop. please, please, stop, stop. stop! they want it to stop. so please, just stop the pain. your heart and head can’t stop screaming. it’s too painful. even more so than before. so much more painful than before.

it stopped. the pain stopped.

she is still settled in between your legs. she is still settled in between your breasts. she is still on you. she is still eating. eating your blood. your blood. you. she is still settled in between you and on you and eating you. she feels different, so much more different. this is too different. it feels like she owns you. and she does. she does own you. you are hers. but this feeling, this feeling is overwhelming, so much more overwhelming.

you smell her, the flowers, the ink. you smell her. the scent of flowers and ink overwhelms you.

the pain stopped, and you realize how hard you are holding the sheets under your being and the pillow under your head. just how hard your heart is beating. you didn’t hold her. you are hers, but she is not yours. she is still in between you and on you and eating you and it doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s not fine. you won’t let the sheets nor the pillow go.

right.

it doesn’t hurt anymore, now, all you feel is pleasure.

your head and heart are screaming. they’re screaming for the pleasure to continue. it’s so good.

it’s good, good, good. it’s so good. you want it to continue. please, please, more, more. more! they want it to continue. so please, just continue the pleasure. your heart and head can’t stop screaming. it’s too good. even more so than before. so much more than before.

the pleasure doesn’t stop.

she is still settled in between your legs. she is still settled in between your breasts. she is still on you. she is still eating. eating your blood. your blood. you. she is still settled in between you and on you, but she is no longer eating you. she feels different, so much more different. this is too different. it feels like she owns you. and she does. she does own you. you are hers. but this feeling, this feeling is overwhelming, so much more overwhelming.

you smell her, the flowers, the ink. you smell her. the scent of flowers and ink overwhelms you.

the pleasure doesn’t stop, and you realize how hard you are holding the sheets under your being and the pillow under your head. just how hard your heart is beating. you didn’t hold her. you are hers, but she is not yours. she is still in between you and on you, but she is no longer eating you. the pleasure doesn’t stop. just like before it doesn’t stop, but unlike before, the pleasure is too much.

you want to touch someone.

you want to be touched by someone.

no, no, no.

you want to touch her.

you want to be touched by her.

your mind is filled with her. her, her, her. her and only her.

your head and heart are high, so high up, so light and high.

that high up, there is only her, her, her. her, and only her.

“ji—dárén,” you can’t sigh her name, no, no, you can’t.

“dárén,” you sigh again, “please, dárén, please. please.”

“my name, (name),” she says. sighs?

it must be the high, but, she sounds like, she sounds like you.

that doesn’t make sense, but, she does, it must be the high.

“ji, jingwei dárén,” you sigh again, “please, dárén, please.”

she moves. she moves to kneel in between your legs. she moves to kneel and take your wrists and trap them on top of your head. your head. your head that’s filled with her. your heart that’s filled with her. she moves and her movements touch you. her movements, the touches bring your head and heart up even higher.

your breaths are heavy. her breaths are heavy too. you feel them on your chest, right in between your breasts. your breaths and heavy, and so are hers.

“sleep, (name),” she whispers, letting go.

“no, no,” you sigh, “no, dárén, please. please.”

“sleep, (name),” she whispers, “just sleep.”

no, no, no.

“i’ll be back in a few days.”

she leaves you in the bedroom.

you want to touch someone.

you want to be touched by someone.

no, no, no.

you want to touch her.

you want to be touched by her.

you want to touch yourself.

it’s overwhelming. the high. the want. the high doesn’t go down. the want doesn’t leave. it won’t go down. you can’t touch yourself. it won’t leave. you can’t touch yourself. you are hers, you are not your own, you are hers, only hers, hers, just hers. her, her, hers. it’s overwhelming.

you want to touch yourself.

but you can’t touch yourself.

you shiver in the cold. half bare on the bed. you shiver, basically bare. you shiver in the cold, but you are burning. your entire being is burning.

you are lying on the canopy bed, right on the left side, leaving the other side empty. it’s her side. you are lying on the canopy bed, right on the left side, tilting your head to the right. to the empty other side. to her side. you can smell the flowers, the ink. you can smell her. lingering on the rectangular pillow. on the rectangular blanket. on the rectangular bed. you can smell her, lingering. if you just, move a bit to the right, move a bit to the empty other side, to her side. you will be able to smell her more. so you do.

you move to her side. you move to her side and take her pillow to your bare chest. take her pillow and the blanket to your bare chest. you smell her. her smell overwhelms you.

you will regret this later, but not now. not now, so you keep her smell close to you.

(“xixi, i’ll leave now.”
“mn, come home safe.”)

you don’t dare open your eyes. you keep them closed through the whole thing. you keep them closed, you don’t dare open your eyes. you keep them closed through the whole thing. and eventually, when the high tires itself out. when the want tires itself out. your eyes stay closed.

you sleep.

and later, you will pretend, dream that you didn’t dream what you will dream.

Chapter Text

three suns. three moons. three suns have passed by. three moons have passed by too. passed by since she left. she left and still hasn’t returned. it worries you to no end, she still hasn’t returned. you know that it is futile to worry about the celestial herself, but you worry about her to no end anyway. what if she can’t return? what if she can’t? what if? what if. what if.

it hurts your head and heart, the worry. it hurts your head and heart, you want her to come back home. if not home to you, then home to xixi. you know three suns and three moons are far from a long time. far from a long time, and even if three suns and three moons were a long time, you have no right to want her to do anything for you. you have no right to want her. but the worry is still there, clawing your head and heart inside out.

wàisūnnǚ, you must be perfect. perfect for her.

your five-year-old self hurts, it hurts. he hit you.

“yes, wàipó, i will be perfect. perfect for her.”

good, good, wàisūnnǚ, good. don’t be like her.

(you feel her hand on your head, pat pat pat.

pat. pat pat pat. pat, pat. patronizing. pat pat.)

“her? wàipó? who is she?”

that child was far too imperfect. she failed.

“who is she, wàipó? may a-(name) know?”

she is your a-niáng’s jiějie. an utter failure.

(you don’t feel her hand on your head, gone.

gone. gone, gone. cold, it’s gone, it’s cold.)

“if i become perfect, will wàipó pat a-(name)?”

perfect, perfect for her. she hums, it’s cold.

(i will be perfect. for her. no more coldness.)

“help! he—help me! please!” you hear a boyish scream, “ple—ease!”

you don’t run. your feet were never bound. the celestial being a woman made it unnecessary for your family to bind your feet. your feet were never bound. but you don’t run. your family, they don’t like you running. (‘your feet aren’t bound by binds, but they are bound by responsibility, child.’). your family, they don’t like you running, so you don’t run. (‘your feet aren’t bound by binds, child. don’t run or they’ll be bound). sometimes, your treacherous head would wish for them to be bound, those wishes would make your heart race. your heart would race and your head would continue. treacherous. (‘if even with unbound feet this body is still not allowed to run, then why did they not bound this body’s feet?’). you don’t run.

“please—please!” you hear a boyish scream, “help, help me! please!”

you run.

the staircase you are running on is far from safe to run on. made out of stone, your feet, barely protected by your slippers, hurt. made out of stone. your feet, never bound, but was barely ever allowed to walk, they hurt. they hurt when they run. when you run. but you run, on every stair made out of stone. to the scream.

“i will help you—” you stop. you feel your body freeze, it’s cold. what is that.

“(maiden name) nǚshì! please don’t go running without telling me first—aaahh!”

you can see xixi’s face even without seeing her face. there is no mistaking it, she is shocked too. not as shocked as you are, but shocked nonetheless. you are frozen in place, your entire being feels cold. it’s cold, so very cold. until the fire. wait, what? the fire? yes, the fire. you can see xixi’s face even without seeing her face. there is no mistaking it, she is no longer shocked. she brings fire straight beside you. the fire burns and burns. burning the one that is freezing you in place. it’s no longer cold, you are no longer frozen.

you kneel next to the boy. he is small. he becomes even smaller as he curls into himself. you kneel next to him. fingers as gentle as you can on his forehead. fingers as gentle as you can on his forehead, pushing his long dark hair from his face. he is asleep. not a peaceful sleep, but he is asleep nonetheless.

“dìdi? are you there? dìdi?” you whisper.

“xixi,” you hesitate, “can you help me carry our bags?”

“of course, (maiden name) nǚshì. i’ve been asking to do that since earlier!”

she takes your bags and holds them without difficulty. you feel a bit of a sting in your heart when you see how easy she carries them. they’re bags filled with weeks long worth of food, and she holds them without difficulty. without any difficulty, meanwhile you struggled with them earlier. the sting wants to stay, but you must get rid of it. so you get rid of the sting, and takes the small boy to your arms.

he is not as heavy as you had thought he would be. you knew he would be light. he is small after all. but you still had thought that he would be heavier than this. you feel a bit of a sting in your heart as you walk up the staircase made out of stone. your feet still hurt, but not as much as before. the sting in your heart wants to stay, so you let it stay. he is so light that you don’t struggle with him. the sting stays, you will not get rid of it. at least until he is no longer as light as he is now.

‘men are to not meddle with the chosen bride’s life.’

“so why does a-diē meddle with mine? why, why, why?”

“so why does wàigōng meddle with mine? why, why?”

“it hurts, a-niáng! it hurts when a-diē hits a-(name).”

“hurts! wàipó! it hurts when wàigōng hits a-(name).”

we hit you because we love you, child, we love you.

(you know that is a lie, a lie, this is not love. not love.)

you feel hands on your head. pat pat. pat. pat, pat.

they don’t love you, a-(name), they hate you, they hate us.

so be perfect, perfect for her. if you are perfect for her,

you will leave, leave far, far, far from here. no more hurt.

“but a-(name) does not want to leave a-niáng and wàipó.”

it is too late for us. they hate us too much to let us leave.

it is not too late for you. be perfect, perfect for her. leave.

the small boy is sleeping. on her bed. he is sleeping on her bed. you will have to ask for forgiveness later, but for now he is sleeping on her bed. you just finished cleaning him and his wounds. he should survive. he is sleeping on her bed, he should survive. you leave him to sleep, leave him to cook.

you cook porridge. he should survive, but his wounds will make it hard for him to eat. porridge should be good for him, so you cook porridge. you make sure to cook lots of porridge, he is small.

“(maiden name) nǚshì? do you need help?”

“a-ah, there is no need, xixi. thank you.”

she hums, “alright, let me know when you do.”

you continue cook side dishes, he is small. smaller than he should be. you cook, but your mind is distracted.

“xixi?” you hesitate, “xixi?”

“yes? what is it?” she says.

“was the one earlier,” you hesitate again, “was the one earlier a corrupted being?”

she hesitates, “yes, (maiden name) nǚshì, unfortunately, it was a corrupted being.”

“it was so close to the temple…” you whisper, “will the nearby towns be alright?”

“the towns should be alright for a few more days, (maiden name) nǚshì, don’t worry.”

“how does shàng xiān do it?” you whisper to no one, “how does she do it?”

“do what, (maiden name) nǚshì?” xixi asks, surprising you that she heard it.

“protect us,” you hesitate, “and you too, xixi. how do you do it? there is only one of you and one of shàng xiān. how? does it not hurt? i don’t understand. you protect us. when you two have a choice to stay in the heavens instead. just, how?”

she smiles a sad smile.

when he wakes up, it’s after the fourth moon and at the fourth sun since she left. when he wakes up, it’s with lots of pain. he whimpers and whimpers. the sting in your heart stays throughout. he is in pain, whimpering every few breaths.

“you will be alright, dìdi, please drink this.” you give him a cup filled with medicine.

he nods and drinks the medicine you gave him. his features show he doesn’t enjoy the taste.

“it’s bitter, isn’t it?” you ask gently, “it’s bitter, but you will be alright after drinking it.”

“what is your name, dìdi?” you ask.

“it’s,” he hesitates, “it’s jianyu, jiějie.”

“that’s a good name, jianyu dì.”

he hesitates again, “what about jiějie?”

“it’s (name).”

the sting in your heart stays. you help him walk to the porch, where you help him eat his porridge too. he smiles at the porridge, then at you, tells you how delicious it is. you smile at him back, tells him how there are more delicious porridge for him. he smiles an even wider smile, thanks you with a mouth full of porridge. you smile at him again. the sting in your heart stays, but it is much lighter than before.

you spend your days caring. you take care of the temple. you take care of the boy, jianyu. you take care of xixi. although for xixi, it’s more like her taking care of you. she makes sure you don’t forget to take care of yourself too. the temple is fine, do not worry. the boy is fine, do not worry.

(“you cook reeeeaaally well, (name) jiě!”

he eats the fried rice you cooked with so much appetite, it brings you much joy.

he eats the chicken you cooked with so much appetite, it brings you so much joy.

you laugh, “thank you, jianyu dì, thank you.”

“what’s your favorite food, (name) jiě?”

“hm,” you say, “tánghúlu? i think? yes, my favorite food is tánghúlu.”

“tánghúlu? oh, the candy! strawberries coated with sugar? on sticks?”

you laugh, “yes, that one.”

although the ones you used to eat were never on sticks. “too undignified,” your father had said.

although the ones you used to eat were always put in small ceramic bowls, so it won’t be too undignified to eat, as your father had said.

“aaahhh, i’d love to try tánghúlu! sellers would sell them so prettily on straws!”

“i’ll make lots of them later,” you say, “then you can try them to your heart’s content.”

he smiles at you, his right cheek dimpled as he smiles. you find yourself smiling at him too.)

soon enough, eleven moons have passed. eleven suns have passed. she still has not returned. the worry is always there as she still has not returned. the worry is still there, but the sting in your heart reminds you. it reminds you that jianyu needs care. eleven moons and suns have passed. you hope that she will return soon. but jianyu needs your care, and jianyu is just one person. she takes care of so many. so while the worry is always there, you ignore it and take care of jianyu instead.

(“(name) jiě, what flowers do you like the most?”

“i like all of them equally,” you say, surprised.

“you got to choose one, (name) jiě!” he insists.

you think, what flower do you like the most. you think, think, think. you smell her, in your mind. she smells of flowers and ink. what flowers? what flowers, what flowers, flowers. you think. you think, think. think. peonies and camellias. peonies and camellias. you like her smell, she smells of flowers and ink, peonies and camellias. you like peonies and camellias the most.

“peonies? and camellias?” you say

“peonies and camellias. okay-okay!”

and when he returns with xixi from the market, his head is made out of peonies and camellias. the flowers cover his entire head so much that his head looks like it’s made of peonies and camellias.

your heart aches. you pat his head and thank him.)

you find that your heart is attached to him. a small boy with only a number to his age. your heart is attached to him. he is like your own. he calls you his older sister. he is like your own. your heart is attached to him. you want him to stay. he wants to stay, with you. he is kind, he makes you laugh. he is like your own. he is small, but not as small as before, with only a number to his age. he makes you laugh, he is kind.

(“jianyu dì, where’s your family? i’d like to bring you home.”

“most of,” he hesitates, “them are gone. i have no home either.”

“ah, i, i see,” you hesitate too, speechless, “i’m sorry, jianyu.”

“it’s okay, (name) jiě!” he hesitates, “i’ve still got one family.”

“where?” you ask. you’d like to bring him home to his family.

“here!” he points at you. you feel your head and heart ache.

few suns and moons have passed, yet he already calls you one.

how lonely was he, to call you one? to call you his family?)

“a-niáng, what happened to your jiějie?”

(she looks so sad, she looks so, so, so sad. sad.)

you do not need to know about her, a-(name).

“but, a-niáng, a-(name) wishes to know, please.”

“perfect. perfect for her. so, she married her?”

yes, she married her, but she was not perfect.

(she looks so sad. you see tears falling, sad.)

she, she was set free by the celestial. she, she—

“a-niáng? a-niáng? don’t cry, a-niáng, please.”

your wàigōng found her in another town. she.

she, she— (you see tears falling. sad, sad, sad.)

‘he took her back home and took her back home.’

‘in front of me, he took her home in front of me.’

it all starts to fall on the seventeenth sun, after the seventeenth moon. when you come into the bedroom in which he sleeps alone. you find him covered in sweat. find him covered in sweat and strange markings shaped like lines branching from one another. you exit the bedroom like a life depends on it. you exit the bedroom and heat a bowl of water like a life depends on it. and perhaps, a life does depend on it, his life. when you come into the bedroom again, a bowl on your hand and a cloth on the other, you see him covered in more sweat. in more sweat and more strange markings. you come closer to him, putting the cloth inside the bowl. you come closer to him, putting out the cloth inside the bowl out to his forehead.

“shh, it will be alright, jianyu,” you try to comfort him, “it’ll be alright. sh, shh.”

“it’s alright,” you try to comfort him again, “it’ll be alright, i’m here, jian—ah!”

he hit you.

he moves and is about to hit you again. he is about to hit you again, so you run to the other side of the room. what is happening. what, what. what is happening? is he. is he corrupted? but, but nothing was happening. what is happening? you are terrified. it’s cold. it’s cold. is he corrupted? he is, isn’t he? he is corrupted. but, but nothing was happening, he was alright. what is happening? it’s cold, you freeze. you are terrified. he moves and is about to hit you again, so you prepare yourself to take the hit, you hear the hit.

but the hit never came.

“(maiden name) nǚshì!” you hear xixi, “please leave this room, i will take care of him!”

‘take care of him.’ take care of him. take care of. him. take care. of him. take. care of him. no, no no nono. nononono. she can’t take care of him. no no no. please, no. she can’t, she can’t. he’s a child, he’s a child. you can take care of him.

“no! xixi!” you shout, “no, please, don’t!”

you’re too late, she has already hit him again. late.

he’s on the floor, sleeping. sleeping on the floor.

“xixi! please!” you shout again, “please, enough!”

he’s on the bed, sleeping. sleeping on the bed. with a rope around his body. a rope around his body, tying him down to the bed. to the bed he is sleeping on. your head and heart ache when you see him like this, but the rope is a must. the rope is a must, tying him down to the bed he is sleeping on is a must. or else xixi would not let you keep him sleeping alive. you understand, xixi would not let you keep him sleeping alive and free. he hurt you after all. but he is still human. he is still a child, still a human child, still a human.

“do not worry, xixi, i am fine.”

“i know, (maiden name) nǚshì, but,” she hesitates, “we shouldn’t—with him.”

“yes, xixi,” you say, “but we shouldn’t do it now either. he is still a human.”

her eyes are sad. she is sad. your head and heart ache. she wants to say something. but doesn’t.

“besides, shàng xiān, will be able to take care of him later when she returns”

her eyes are sadder. she looks like she wants to say something. she wants to. but she doesn’t.

your elder and younger brothers all live easy lives. easy.

your elder and younger sisters all live. yes, they live. live.

you know them not. you know only yourself. only yourself.

sometimes you know yourself not. but you know them not.

‘only immediate family members. immediate family only.’

(you wonder how it feels, to have brothers and sisters.)

she returns on the twentieth sun, after the twentieth moon.

“(name)? xixi? i’m home.”

your head and heart ache at the voice. they ache and ache and ache at the voice. at her voice. after twenty suns. after twenty moons. the voice, her voice. her. she’s here. your head and heart ache. she’s here. after twenty suns and moons, she’s here. you ache.

“ji-jingwei dárén, welcome home.” you say, you raise your forearms to your chest.

she looks different. she looks tired. her hair is barely tied at the end. her hair is messy and barely tied at the end. she looks tired, her eyes are half-closed as if she can’t afford to keep them open. and maybe she can’t, keep them open. she looks different. her hànfú is dirty, the white parts are stained, the gray and black parts are even stained too. her hànfú is dirty, it is stained dark and darker, but you see her waist. you see her waist. she looks different, but the tassel looks the same. she looks different, tired, but the tassel looks the same.

your heart skipped a beat.

“jingwei dárén, welcome home,” you say again, “would you like dinner first? or bath first?”

“i’ll take the bath first, (name),” she says, “thank you.”

“ah, yes, dárén,” you hesitate, “please, please be careful.”

“be careful?” she says, “be careful of what, (name)?”

“i,” you hesitate again, “i.”

what if she doesn’t like it? what if she doesn’t like what you did? what if, what if. what if she doesn’t like it? doesn’t like it. doesn’t like you. you should not have done what you did. you should not have done it. she would not like it. she would not like what you did. what if, what if. would she? would she. should not have done it. should not have done what you did.

you can’t breathe.

“(name)?” she says, firm, “(name).”

“y-yes, shàng—jingwei dárén?”

“you must breathe.” she says, firm.

you feel her hands around yours.

she takes them, takes your hands.

puts yours and hers, on her chest.

she’s close, but not too close. her face shows that she is tired. you can’t make her even more tired. she’s close, but not too close. you can’t tire her even more, she is tired. you try to breathe, breathe, breathe. breathe, breathe, breathe. please, just breathe! you can’t breathe.

 “i can’t, jingwei dárén,” you say, desperate, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—sorry.”

“(name),” she says, firm, “(name).” you want to breathe, desperately, you’re tiring her.

“i can’t breathe, dárén,” you say, desperate, “i can’t breathe. i’m sorry, sorry. so—ah!”

something fell. more than a thud. something fell, a big something. you both look to the direction of the bedroom. something fell. something big. more than a thud. you look at her, then back to the direction of the bedroom. you both look to the direction of the bedroom. she lets go of your hands and goes to the bedroom.

“xixi, what happened here?” she says, shocked.

you breathe, you must breathe. one, two, three. three, two, one.

“jingwei!” you hear xixi say, “you’re home!”

“xixi,” she says again, “what happened here?”

“uh,” xixi hesitates, “jianyu—he is corrupted.”

you cannot see her. all you hear is a thud. you hear a thud. a similar one to the one xixi made. you cannot see her. you hear a thud, a similar thud to the one xixi made. she hit him.

you run to the bedroom, still barely breathing. you run to the bedroom, barely breathing, because a life depends on you running.

“please! jingwei dárén!” you hold her right hand. “please, please don’t.”

you drop yourself into a kòutóu. your head and your heart are loud. you dropped yourself into a kòutóu and your head is loud. your heart is loud too. so, so, so loud. your kòutóu hurts. it hurts and it’s loud.

“eh? eh!” you hear xixi, “(maiden name) nǚshì, you don’t have to!”

“jingwei dárén, i’m sorry, but please. please don’t hurt him. please, dárén. please, don’t.”

you hear a rustle of fabric in front of you. more rustles, and more rustles. she is kneeling in front of you. this feels familiar. like the very first night. familiar like the very first night. the rustles of fabric stop, she is kneeling.

you feel her fingers and hands. she is helping you up. she helps you up and helps you walk. you are walking, she is walking. outside. outside the bedroom. her fingers and hands are gentle.

“xixi, please tie the boy,” you hear her say.

she sits you down to a chair in the kitchen. she sits herself down to another chair in front of you in the kitchen. she lets you breathe. her fingers and hands are gentle and she lets you breathe. you breathe, one, two, three. three, two, one. one, two, three. three, two, one.

“it’s alright, (name),” she says, “would you tell me the whole story?”

you would. so you do. like the very first night, you stumble on your words. but you would, so you do, you tell her the whole story. you stumble again and again, but you do. she listens to you through the whole thing, she listens to you. she listens.

“—but jingwei dárén will take care of him. jingwei dárén can heal him, right?”

she is silent. she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know. she is silent.

she searches for something you don’t know. you never know what she searches for.

she holds your hands. your trembling hands. she holds your trembling hands, gentle.

“i’m sorry, (name),” she says, “i, i can’t heal him. he’s already far too corrupted.”

your head and heart are loud. their voices won’t cease. your head and heart are loud. they won’t cease their voices. she can’t. she can’t heal him. far too corrupted. he’s far too corrupted. he can’t be healed. your head and heart are loud.

“i’m sorry, (name),” she says again.

“i, it’s,” you say, “it’s alright, dárén.”

“i must take care of him now, (name), before he is no longer human.”

your eyes are dry and wet at the same time. you don’t understand how that is possible.

your eyes are dry and wet at the same time, you don’t feel like crying, but you also feel like crying. you don’t want to cry, but you also feel like you do. you don’t understand how that is possible.

“can i,” you hesitate, “can i see him one more time?”

she nods.

he is sleeping. his body is tied by more ropes. he is still sweating, so much more than before. his markings are still there, so so so much more than before. he is sleeping, and soon, he will sleep forever. his pain will be over. you try to tell yourself that. he is sleeping, and soon his pain will be over, he will sleep forever. his body will not be tied.

“jianyu dì,” you whisper, “i’m sorry, i haven’t made you any tánghúlu, but you’ll be able to eat lots of tánghúlu there. i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i’m sorry i didn’t run fast enough. i’m sorry, i didn’t run to you fast enough. i’m sorry. your pain will be over, soon. thank you. thank you, for being you, i’m sorry.”

you stumbled on your words again. you stumbled more and more as your words continued to spill from your lips. you stumbled as you spill your words, the words barely coherent. barely coherent words, for what do you say to someone who won’t reply? to someone who won’t reply, can’t reply.

she is about to leave again. she is about to leave again, with sleeping jianyu in her arms. sleeping jianyu in her arms, your head and heart ache. she is about to leave again, when you give her the peonies and camellias he gave you a few suns and moons ago. your head and heart ache. she promises you to take care of him and the flowers. she is about to leave again, with sleeping jianyu in her arms, and the peonies and camellias he gave you a few suns and moons ago in her hands. she leaves again.

xixi tries to comfort you. you say that you do not need comforting, you are fine.

xixi tries to comfort you. you say that you do not need comforting, you are fine.

xixi tries to comfort you. you say that you do not need comforting, you are fine. you are not.

xixi tries to comfort you. you say that you do not need comforting, you are fine. you are not.

xixi tries to comfort you. you are not fine. you say that sorry, you do need comforting.

she comforts you.

the moon is up when she comes into the bedroom, hands full. she comes into the bedroom with her hands full, the now clean bedroom. she comes into the bedroom, the now clean bedroom, after bath and dinner when the moon is up. the moon is up when she gives you a stick of tánghúlu and fresh flowers. fresh flowers, peonies and camellias. fresh peonies and fresh camellias. the moon is up when your head and heart ache yet again.

“as mournful as you are, there is no reason to make the things you love mourn too.”

her words make you ache. how does she read you so easily? you don’t even know yourself sometimes. so how does she read you so easily? her words make you ache, you ache and ache and ache.

she helps you eat the tánghúlu. her lips are coated by a thin layer of sugar. your lips are coated by a thin layer of sugar too. she helps you arrange some of the peonies and camellias in some vases to decorate the room. her fingers smell like peonies and camellias. your fingers smell like peonies and camellias too. she helps you pick the petals of some of the peonies and camellias and scatter them on the bed. her fingers are gentle and they smell like flowers. your fingers are gentle and they smell like flowers too.

the moon is still up when you two finish. you are tired. she is tired too.

 you slip your fingers to one of your collars.

“no.” she takes your fingers. “no. there is no need.”

“jingwei dárén?” you say, “but it’s been twenty days.”

“there is no need, no,” she says, “it’s alright, (name).”

you must look unsure. you must look unsure to her. because she pushes you to the bed. she pushes you to the bed, gently. you must look unsure. because she pushes you to the bed gently, and caresses your lids even more gently.

“it’s alright, (name),” she says, “it’s alright. let’s just go to sleep.”

the ‘i don’t want to hurt you more than i already did’ remains unsaid.

the bed smells like her. the flowers, peonies and camellias. the petals around you and her are like a blanket, covering you and her with her smell. she lays on her side. you lay on your side too. she holds you close to her. the bed smells like her, you smell her, sweet. you feel her fingers in your hair. her fingers and petals in your hair. she rubs the petals in your hair, sweet. you smell her, you smell like her. the bed smells like her. the flowers, peonies and camellias. the smell, her smell. she holds you close to her.

“thank you, jingwei dárén,” you say.

“hm?” she hums, “you’re welcome.”

you have your eyes closed, you are tired. you are tired, but you cannot sleep. you cannot sleep, she notices. she always notices. how does she do it? she has her eyes closed too, she is tired too. how does she do it?

“sleep, (name),” she says, “go to sleep. i’m here. i’m here with you, (name).”

“you are here, jingwei dárén,” you say, eyes wide, you only truly realized it now.

you only truly realized that she’s here. she’s here with you. now. realized it now.

“yes,” she says again, “i’m here with you.”

“you are not alone.”

you sleep.

Chapter Text

you are trapped. held by hands. hands, hands, hands. more hands, even more hands. trapped. their hold burns, they burn, burn, hands, burn. burning. you are trapped, burning. more hands, even more hands. more burns, more, more burns. burning hands, hands burn. you are trapped.

their fingers are long and slender, but sticky. you feel it. sticky, sticky fingers. they stick, stick, stick. stickier and stickier. long and slender, their fingers, but their fingers are sticky.

they run their fingers on your bare torso. run, run, run, run. your mind tells you to run. run! run, run, run! run! run! run! they run their fingers on your bare torso, run, run, run. bare torso. your mind tells you to run. run! run! but you cannot run.

‘… men are to not meddle with the chosen bride’s life…’

“so why does a-diē meddle with mine? why, why, why?”

“so why does wàigōng meddle with mine? why, why?”

“it hurts, a-niáng! it hurts when a-diē hits a-(name).”

“hurts! wàipó! it hurts when wàigōng hits a-(name).”

we hit you because we love you, child, we love you.

(you know that is a lie, a lie, this is not love. not love.)

“you want love? okay. you want love? okay. this is love. this is love. you want love? okay. this is love.”

they touch your torso, your bare torso. careful to not touch certain parts, to not make certain parts impure. they touch your torso, your bare torso. careful to not touch certain parts, to not make certain parts impure. so why do you feel impure?

we touch you because we love you, child, we love you.

(you know that is a lie, a lie, this is not love. not love.)

(no, no, no, no, no, no, nononononononono! no!)

“just hit a-(name)! please! hit a-(name) instead! just hit a-(name)! please!”

your voice, sore from crying. your sore voice, crying, crying. cuts through their touches. your voice, sore from crying. you cry, cry, cry. cuts through their touches. your sore voice, crying, you cry even more.

“this is punishment,” they say. “this is punishment,” they say. “this is punishment,” they say.

“punishment for your failures.”

one! you feel wood hit your bones.

two! you feel wood hit your bones.

three! you feel wood hit your bones.

four! five! six!

seven! eight! nine!

your voice, sore from crying. your sore voice, crying, crying. cuts through their touches. your voice, sore from crying. you cry, cry, cry. cuts through their touches. your sore voice, crying, you cry even more.

but at least the fingers are no more.

you wake up crying.

“a-(name) is sorry, a-(name) is sorry,” you cry, “a-(name) is so, so, so sorry. please, please…!”

you cry for the first time in years. you cry and cry and cry. shoulders folded painfully inwards. you cry for the first time in years. shoulders and neck folded painfully inwards. you cry and cry and cry. your head and heart hurts, your head and heart ache. you cry and cry and cry.

your eyes are two waterfalls. your nostrils are two waterfalls. water, they fall and fall and fall. your eyes, two waterfalls. your nostrils, two waterfalls. waterfalls, ruining the silk. the silk that is your first skin, untouched by the sun until recently. the silk that is your clothes, your second skin, untouched by the sun until recently. the silk that is your bed, silk, silk, silk. the silk that are the flowers, silk, silk, silk. all silk, water, ruining the silk.

you sob. you don’t understand why the single memory you had worked so hard to bury forever must crawl out of their grave and shove itself to you. you sob. you don’t understand why the single memory you had worked so hard to bury forever like you had buried whatever personality you had when you were as young as two must crawl out of their grave and shove itself to you.

what did you do wrong?

‘celestial, dear celestial, what did a-(name) do wrong? celestial?’ you hear a voice so eerily familiar says. a voice so eerily familiar, because the voice has the personality you had buried when you were as young as two, says, ‘celestial, dear celestial, what did a-(name) do wrong? celestial?’ because the voice has the personality you had buried when you were as young as two, but like it is buried, it is dead. the personality, it is buried, it is dead.

you try to stop the waterfalls. but trying to stop waterfalls with weak hands is setting yourself up for failure. still, you try to stop the waterfalls.

“…(name)?” you hear her voice, “what’s wrong?”

she looks at you, you in your teary and snotty ugliness. she looks at you, you expect her to leave you, you in your teary and snotty ugliness. you wait for her to leave, wait for her to leave you alone so you can kòutóu. but she doesn’t, you wait for her to leave so you can kòutóu, but she doesn’t leave.

instead, she takes your hands, your weak, weak hands, she takes them and holds them with hers.

“(name)…?” you hear her voice, “what’s wrong?”

you do not know how she does it. she asked you what is wrong. she asked you what is wrong and now you feel like crying even more. you do not know how she does it. how does she do it? how does she do it, how does she always knows what to say? but you, you, failure, you feel like crying even more.

you cannot tell her the truth. you cannot burden the celestial with lowly problems such as yours. you cannot tell her about the single memory you had worked so hard to bury forever had crawled out of their grave and shoved itself to you. you cannot tell her the truth. you cannot burden the celestial with lowly problems such as yours. you swallow the bile that had risen from the depths of your stomach back into its rightful place.

you have to lie.

“i,” you hesitate.

you have to lie.

“i,” you hesitate.

you have to lie.

“i—i miss jianyu.”

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so, so, so, sorry. sorry, jianyu, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry, i’m sorry, jianyu.

she takes one of her hands, takes it to your face and pats your eyes dry with her sleeve. she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know. she takes one of her hands, takes it to your face and pats your eyes dry with her sleeve, and pats them dry again when you cry some more. pats them dry again when you cry some more. she looks at you, searches for something you don’t know.

she nods.

“do you want to see him?”

you nod, frantic, you nod.

she nods, “you’ll see him.”

after a few minutes of walking, you find yourself in front of the springs you’ve bathed yourself in since you’ve started living here. you find yourself in front of the springs, putting a clean hànfú and a clean cloth on a clean slab of stone. putting yourself on a clean slab of stone, taking off your layers one by one. you soon find yourself bare, your face, your hair, your body, your entire being. bare.

you walk into the springs, you walk into the springs and bathe yourself.

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so, so, so, sorry. sorry, jianyu, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry, i’m sorry, jianyu.

if you close your eyes and sink your head into the water, you can see him. you can see him, pointing at you with his mouth open, shouting words of hatred you cannot yet also can hear. shouting words of hatred you cannot hear yet also can hear, “how dare you use me!” if you close your eyes and sink your head into the water, you can see him. you can see him and you want to reach for him. “how dare you use me!” you want to reach for him and repent.

repent, beg, repent, beg. maybe you should. repent and beg. sink. sink, sink, sink deeper. you should, repent and beg. sink, sink, sink. sink deeper, deeper. sink. sink. sink, drown—

“(maiden name) nǚshì, are you finished?” you hear xixi’s voice, “if you are finished, you should come back soon, breakfast is ready.”

ah, later.

you walk out of the springs, you walk out of the springs and clothe yourself.

if you still had tears to shed, your eyes would be two waterfalls. if you still had tears to shed, your nostrils would be two waterfalls. if you still had tears to shed, your eyes would be two waterfalls, your nostrils would be two waterfalls.

you clothe yourself in black, the silk of the hànfú is soft and kind on your skin. your hànfú is so soft and so kind that you want to choke yourself with it. you clothe yourself in black, not pink, in black, black, black. layers and layers of black. so soft and so kind, black silk. soft and kind, you want to choke yourself with it. not pink, not pink, not a single layer of pink. you want to choke yourself with it.

she wears black like you. you wear black like her.

the tassel is not on her being, of course, because it’s red.

because it’s red, the tassel is not on her being. oh, wait.

wait, the tassel. oh. she is holding the tassel. of course.

(“xixi, what does shàng xiān usually has?”

“hm? what dishes?” xixi asks you, you nod.

“hm, i guess… she usually has shuǐjiǎo…?”

you nod, shuǐjiǎo, alright.)

she made shuǐjiǎo.

breakfast is quiet, it’s not the pleasant kind of quiet.

quiet because there’s a question in the air. more, more questions in the air. quiet because there’s a question or more in the air.

breakfast is quiet, it’s not the pleasant kind of quiet.

the sun up, not too high in the sky when she shades both of your beings with her oil-paper umbrella. when she takes your free hand, the one that is not holding the basket filled with peonies and camellias with her free hand, holding it. when she takes your free hand with her free hand, holding it, enveloping them in the blacks of both of your hànfú sleeves.

you hope that he will no longer struggle in the samsara. but you know it’s futile. still, you still hope that he will no longer struggle in the samsara.

“shàng xiān!” you hear someone gasps.

you do not know this person. you look at her. she knows this person.

this person bows. you see her gray hair, adorned with decorations, her gray hànfú, adorned with decorations. she is wealthy. this person is wealthy. she bows. to her.

you feel your stomach drop. you feel unwell.

“shàng xiān, welcome, welcome,” you hear the person say, “this one’s name is lin shiyun, this one is the grandmother of lin yujia. does shàng xiān remember? lin shiyun and lin yujia.”

you feel your stomach drop. you feel unwell.

you’ve heard about them, about lin shiyun and lin yujia. lin shiyun, the current matriarch of the lin family. lin yujia, the current matriarch’s granddaughter, the lin family’s princess. the princess you were made to compete with the moment you were born. compete with even when neither of you have ever met each other before the moment you were born. you’ve heard about them. of course you’ve heard about them, the lin family is the family she blessed herself.

you feel your stomach drop. you feel unwell.

“yes, i remember you, lin fūrén,” she says, her hand in yours firm.

“does shàng xiān remember? this one was shocked to know that shàng xiān had chosen another bride from the (maiden name) family. this one was very shocked. shàng xiān had chosen another bride although it was supposed to be the lin family’s turn.”

“yes,” she says, her hand in yours firm, “i did. i remember, lin fūrén,”

you feel your stomach drop. you feel unwell.

(you were just born when your family heard the news that the celestial wants her next bride to be from your family. you were just born when your family heard the news that the celestial wants you. you were just born. you were just born. you were just born.)

this person, lin shiyun, has not looked at you even once.

this person, lin shiyun, you realize, is truly a matriarch.

lin shiyun has not looked at you even once.

lin shiyun is looking at you.

her gaze burns. condescension. her gaze burns and burns. the flames of condescension.

“this one was ignorant, this one did not know that shàng xiān can break the cycle like shàng xiān did. but this one understands, this one is no longer ignorant, this one knows that it is ultimately shàng xiān’s choice, whether to break the cycle or not.”

“yes,” she says, her hand in yours firm, “it is. it always is, lin fūrén,”

“so, if this one can be presumptuous, this one would be willing to give lin yujia to shàng xiān—of course, if it is shàng xiān’s choice. so shàng xiān can have a fitting qīzi for shàng xiān’s needs.”

you feel your stomach drop. you feel unwell.

“no.” she says, her hand in yours even firmer, “no.”

this person, lin shiyun, looked at you with condescension.

this person, lin shiyun, is truly, truly, truly is, a matriarch.

lin shiyun looked at you with condescension.

lin shiyun looks confused. confused in her condescension.

“forgive this unworthy one, shàng xiān, but what does shàng xiān mean?”

“i mean it what it means,” she says, her hands in yours even firmer, “no.”

“i do not need a ‘fitting’ qīzi,” she says, cold, “i have a fitting qīzi.”

is it bad that you were glad lin shiyun looked at you with condescension?

“you looked at her, at my qīzi, with condescension,” she says, cold.

is it bad that you were glad lin shiyun looked at you with condescension?

“we have somewhere to be, don’t bother us.”

because your heart is skipping so many beats.

beats. because your heart is skipping so many.

your heart is skipping so many beats. because.

“i’m sorry for how horribly she treated you,” she says.

“i’m sorry for letting her treat you horribly,” she says.

your heart is skipping so many beats again.

“i—it’s alright, jingwei dárén.”

you spent hours in front of jianyu’s grave. she stayed with you through them all.

you spent hours in front of jianyu’s grave. she stayed with you through them all.

you spent minutes crying in front of jiangyu’s grave. she pats your eyes dry through them all.

you spent minutes crying in front of jiangyu’s grave. she pats your eyes dry through them all.

when you both arrive back home, you are tired, she is tired.

the moon is up high when she slips her fingers into the collars of your hànfú. she slips both collars away, exposing the skin underneath. exposing all of the skin underneath. all of the skin underneath, all, all, all. the moon is up high and you feel your cheeks coloring to the thought of it watching.

you feel your entire body burn. she pushes you down. down to lie down on the bed covered by flowers and flower petals. she spreads your bare legs apart and you feel your entire body burn even more. this is the same, you remind yourself. she spreads your bare legs apart and settles between them. your entire body burns even more. this is the same, you remind yourself. you feel your cheeks coloring.

this is the same, you remind yourself. but how is it the same, when you are completely bare?

she takes your arms, bare, guides them to her neck. that is different. she guides your arms, bare, to her neck. “hold me instead,” she had said. she had said, “hold me instead.” that is different. she wants you to hold her, she wants you to hold her, she wants you to hold her.

this is not the same. this is not the same. this is not the same. her, her, her. her, her.

you smell her. you smell the flowers and the ink. you smell her. they overwhelm you.

your mind is filled with her. her, her, her. she is burning, burning you. you are burning.

“this will hurt for a bit, but the pain will be gone as soon as it comes.”

you nod.

she bites.

your head and heart are screaming. they’re screaming for the pain to stop. it’s painful.

but the pain is not painful. but it is painful. but it’s not, but it is. it’s not—it’s painful.

it stopped. the pain stopped.

she is still settled in between your legs. she is still on you, fully clothed. on the bed covered by flowers and flower petals. she is still eating. eating your blood. your blood. you. she is still settled in between you and on you, fully clothed, and eating you.

your treacherous mind wishes she is bare like you.

you smell her, the flowers, the ink. you smell her. the scent of flowers and ink overwhelms you.

your head and heart are screaming. they’re screaming for the pleasure to continue. it’s so good.

it’s good, good, good. it’s so good. you want it to continue. please, please, more, more. more! they want it to continue. so please, just continue the pleasure. your heart and head can’t stop screaming. it’s too good. even more so than before. so much more than before.

the pleasure doesn’t stop.

you smell her, the flowers, the ink. you smell her. the scent of flowers and ink overwhelms you.

the pleasure doesn’t stop, and you realize how hard your arms are holding her neck.

she is still settled in between your legs. she is still on you, fully clothed. on the bed covered by flowers and flower petals. she is still eating. eating your blood. your blood. you. she is still settled in between you and on you, fully clothed, and eating you.

your treacherous mind wishes she is bare like you.

you want to touch someone.

you want to be touched by someone.

no, no, no.

you want to touch her,

you want to be touched by her.

your mind is filled with her. her, her, her. her and only her.

your head and heart are high, so high up, so light and high.

that high up, there is only her, her, her. her, and only her.

“ji—dárén,” you can’t sigh her name, no, no, you can’t.

“dárén,” you sigh again, “please, dárén, please. please.”

“my name, (name),” she sighs.

she sighed? she sighed! it wasn’t just you. it isn’t just you.

“ji, jingwei dárén,” you sigh again, “please, dárén, please.”

she takes off your arms from her neck.

she nods. she takes off her lips from your skin. she nods and she sits on her knees. her lips are red because of your blood. she sits on her knees, then she pulls you to her. she nods.

“take it off.”

you are burning. burning, burning. it burns. the high burns.

the moon is up high when you slip your fingers into the collars of her hànfú. you slip both collars away, exposing the skin underneath. exposing almost all of the skin underneath. almost all of the skin underneath, almost, almost, almost all. the moon is up high and you feel your cheeks coloring to the thought of it watching.

you cannot stand it. you cannot stand the burn. the high. the burning high. you cannot stand it.

you sit on one of her thighs. your fingers find her hair. your arms find her neck. you sit on one of her thighs. you cannot stand it. you cannot stand the burn. the high. the burning high. you cannot stand it. you sit on one of her thighs, then your hips roll.

your hips roll, frantic. frantic for more pleasure. your groans and your moans fill the room. you feel her eyes on you, blue. you feel her eyes on you as your hips roll, frantic, blue. your groans and your moans fill the room, and her groans and her moans join yours.

she puts her lips on your skin again. she eats and eats and eats and eats. it’s messy. the blood doesn’t immediately get eaten because of your movements. it’s messy. she eats and eats and eats. lips covered in blood.

too much.

her hands are on your body. her lips still on your skin, covered in blood. she eats.

too much.

her hands are on your body. her lips still on your skin, covered in blood. she eats.

you feel yourself getting weaker. weaker and weaker. weak, weak, weaker. weak.

too much.

her hands are on your body. her lips still on your skin, covered in blood. she eats.

you feel yourself getting weaker. weaker and weaker. weak, weak, weaker. weak.

you feel mortal. much too mortal. mortal, too mortal. you feel like you are dying.

too much!

“jingwei dárén! too much!” you scream, terrified, “too much!”

it’s like someone poured cold water on her.

“jingwei, that’s too much!” the younger brunette shouts at her, “too much! stop, stop! jingwei!”

“jingwei, stop, too much,” the older brunette says to her, “take the rest that you need from me.”

she groans. when she’s hungry, hungry, she can’t just stop. she just can’t.

so she tries, she tries to stop and the hunger flares. the hunger flares like the fire she calls from within herself when she fights. the hunger flares and flares and flares and she almost puts her lips on the younger brunette’s skin once more. but both brunettes know her best, the younger brunette and the older brunette, both know her best. the hunger flares, flares and flares. but the skin she puts her lips on once more is not the younger brunette’s, but the older brunette’s.

they give her so much, so much until so much becomes too much. the younger shouts about her taking too much, but she always gives her so much anyway. the older says the same thing, but does the same thing anyway. they give her so much, she doesn’t know what to do without them, when so much becomes too much and she knows one day too much will eventually become nothing.

nothing. nothing because she is forever and they are not. they, the ones who joined her when everything was nothing, when the previous era that was everything became nothing, was nothing. the ones who joined her to the current era that was nothing and became everything, is everything. they are everything.

what to do without them? without the blood they give her, so much blood until so much blood becomes too much blood, but the blood sustains her. they sustain her. take care of her, take care of everything and nothing. without the blood they give her, she will just be forever. forever, forever and forever hungry, hungry forever. without the blood they give her, forever hungry, hungry forever, she might as well be a walking corpse.

corpse, corpse, corpse. walking corpse. time is ticking, soon-to-be walking corpse. soon-to-be walking corpse, you need an idea. an idea for when they who are not forever like you are gone. gone, gone, gone from your forever. forever. gone forever. walking corpse, soon-to-be walking corpse, time is ticking. idea, idea.

“hua—jingwei,” the older brunette says, “jingwei.”

“hua—jingwei,” the younger brunette says, “listen.”

(both the older brunette and the younger brunette slip sometimes, still wishing to call her by the name that she wants so desperately to leave behind.)

“hm?”

they send each other looks. the kind of looks only sisters could understand. they send each other more looks, only sisters could understand. then they open their mouths, and she, she listens.

a few hours have passed.

she wants to say no. she wants to say no, no, you can’t. that is cruel. beyond cruel. you can’t because that is cruel. she wants to say it. but she doesn’t say it. she can’t. she groans. when she’s hungry, hungry, she can’t just stop. she just can’t.

“we are making a story so you won’t be hungry when we’re gone,” the younger brunette had said (in a placating tone). (an idea.). “you won’t be hungry, jingwei, so you won’t have to worry when we’re gone,” the older brunette had said (in a placating tone you’d give to people you know would reject what you will say). (an idea.). she had prepared, she had prepared because she knew she would—no, will reject what the younger brunette and older brunette will say.

they had said what they had to say.

no amount of preparation would ever be enough to prepare her for what they had to say.

‘… three families are blessed by three celestials…’

‘… the lin family is blessed by yún mò dānxīn herself…’

‘… the kang family is blessed by the knower of all things…’

‘… the (maiden name) family is blessed by the mother of all things…’

‘… every eighteen years…’

‘… an eighteen-year-old bride from one of three blessed families…’

‘… for eighteen years…’

“no. so many things could go wrong with this and so many things about this are already wrong in the first place,” she says, “no.”

“but-but-but-but, but, jingwei!” the younger brunette says, “this way you won’t be hungry.”

“you won’t be hungry,” the older brunette says, “and you’ll be able to keep your hunger a secret, only your brides would know.”

“that’s one of the many things that are wrong about this. birth and raise girls so that when they turn eighteen they can be wedded—fed, to me until eighteen years pass? then what? raise more girls so that when they turn eighteen they can be fed to me until eighteen more years pass?

“and you both know it, know it better than anyone else. when i’m hungry, i can’t just stop. i just can’t. you both are different, so you are able to withstand my hunger. but those girls would never be able to withstand it, they’d die far before eighteen years would even pass. and before they die, scarred and traumatized.

“eighteen years. why eighteen years? even if they don’t die, even if eighteen years would pass, so they turn thirty-six, why? so when they turn thirty-six they can return home? return home all scarred and traumatized because the ‘yún mò dānxīn’ they were birthed and raised to be wedded to, what? fed on their bloods every few nights for eighteen years?”

they send each other looks. the kind of looks only sisters could understand. they send each other more looks, only sisters could understand. then they open their mouths, but she, but she doesn’t listen.

but they open their mouths again, and she loves them too much to not listen again, so she listens.

they are right after all, no matter how cruel it is, they are right. for everything to stay everything and not become nothing, they are right. no matter how cruel it is. no more soon-to-be walking corpse. no more, no more, no more corpse, corpse, corpse, soon-to-be-walking corpse. they are right.

“treat the girls kindly, jingwei,” the younger brunette had said, “treat them kindly and gently like you treat us.” “treat the girls gently, jingwei,” the older brunette had said, “treat them gently and kindly like you treat us.” (the ‘it’s the least you could do’ was never there, will never be there either, because they are too kind, the younger brunette and the older brunette are too kind. the ‘it’s the least you could do’ was never there, will never be there either, but she heard it spoken anyway, spoken by her own ugly voice in her own ugly mind. ugly voice, ugly mind, fitting for the ugly blood-hungry thing she is.)

she clenches her fists until they bleed, “alright.”

‘i hurt her, i hurt her, i hurt her, i hurt her, i hurt her, i hurt her—i!’

it’s like someone poured cold water on her.

she flinches away from you. doesn’t dare touch you. you long for her to touch you. the high, the burning high is still there. but she flinches away from you. doesn’t dare touch you.

 “i’m sorry, (name),” she says, voice filled with regret.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” she says, “i hurt you, i’m sorry.”

“i will not hurt you anymore.”

“sleep.”

you sleep.

Chapter Text

she insisted on you sleeping on your bed alone. even after xixi’s far from silent protest, she insisted on you sleeping on your bed alone. your bed. your bed, not her bed. not her bed, she insisted on you sleeping on your bed alone, not her bed, your bed. even after xixi’s far from silent protest, she insisted. since that night, you have been sleeping on her—your bed alone.

she has not talked to you for more than what is necessary. she has not talked to you more than a simple ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’, no more than what is necessary. you do not understand what it is that you did wrong. did you fail again? did you misunderstand? did you fail again? you do not understand what it is that you did wrong.

you do not understand. you cannot understand. did you fail again? did you misunderstand?

you do not understand. you cannot understand. did you fail again? did you misunderstand?

you do not understand. you cannot understand. did you fail again? did you misunderstand?

when she saw your hands, colored, she asked you about it. when she saw your hands, colored blue and purple, she asked you about it. blue and purple, blue and purple, blue and purple. purple is new, purple is different. the color purple is new, the color purple is different. she asked you about it and you froze as a response.

“tell me, (name), who did this to you?”

you shook your head then, unable to answer.

“is it one of the townspeople? (name)?”

you shook your head then, unable to answer.

“tell me, (name), who did this to you?”

you still do not know why you ran from her instead of just answering her question. but perhaps even after years of teachings, you still have it in you to be terrified. perhaps even after years of teachings, teachings of how to become her bride, her wife, you still have it in you to be terrified. becoming her bride, her wife, is the greatest honor, so you do not have to be terrified. but you still have it in you to be terrified anyway, because how could you not? how could you not be terrified when you are her bride, her wife? you still do not know why you ran from her instead of just answering her question, but you cannot find it in yourself to regret it.

how are you supposed to answer her question anyway? how are you supposed to answer, to say to her face, that it is you, it is you who did ‘this’ to yourself to answer her question? why does she even care, why does she even care enough? ‘i did this to myself’? why does she even care enough? how are you supposed to answer her question?

would she hurt them? she was cold and distant when she asked you her question. was she angry? is she angry? would she hurt them? if she finds out who hurt you, would she hurt them? no, no. no. would she hurt you? she was cold and distant when she asked you her question. was she angry? is she angry? then, would she hurt you? if she finds out that the one who did ‘this’ to you is yourself, would she hurt you?

hours later, hours after she had asked you her question, you return. when you return, hours later, she is already gone. she is already gone, xixi too. the sun is high up in the air, your shadow is a circle-like gray, right under you. she is already gone, xixi too, when you return, the sun is high up in the air. hours after she had asked you her question, you can finally breathe properly.

you can finally breathe properly. you silently pray your gratefulness to the celestial, pretending the celestial you are praying to is not the same celestial you are married to. you can finally breathe properly. you silently pray your gratefulness to the celestial. thank you for letting this one be alone, this one is grateful, thank you for letting this one be alone.

you sit on the stone that is the entrance to her temple. to her small temple. small, because she is humble, because she is kind. because she is humble and kind. humble and kind. humble and kind. humble and kind. not terrifying. she is not terrifying.

how to not be terrified. you wonder what it is about her that terrifies you so horribly. you want to desperately know what it is. for someone who was taught so much about how to satisfy her, how to please her, you want to desperately know what it is about her. you want to desperately know what it is, what it is about her that terrifies you so horribly. how to satisfy her, how to please her. you want to know, you wonder. you wonder what it is, how to satisfy her, how to please her. how to not be terrified. you want—you want.

you slam your right hand to the stone that is the entrance to her temple.

(‘do not want. do not ever want. to want is a privilege you do not have.’)

you slam your right hand to the stone that is the entrance to her temple.

(‘to want is a privilege you do not have. do not ever want. do not want.’)

you slam your right hand to the stone over and over. over, over, and over.

your eyes are vacant, unseeing, you are unseeing, eyes vacant. no tears.

vacant.

your left hand is holding your right hand. your eyes are staring at your right hand. it is as if your left hand and your eyes are in an agreement right now. your left hand is holding your right hand, holding the blooming purple. the new purple, the different purple. your eyes are staring at your right hand, staring the blooming purple. the new purple, the different purple. it is as if your left hand and your eyes are in an agreement right now (‘you suit the color purple.’). you suit the color purple. you suit the color purple, you suit the new, the different purple, you suit the color purple.

you suit the color purple.

she does not waste any time when she comes home. she does not waste any time taking your wrist in her hand when she comes home. she does not waste any time. taking your wrist in her hand and pulling you to the bedroom, her bedroom. she does not waste any time.

you sit on the edge of the bed. both of your feet are planted on the ground. you look at her. you sit on the edge of the bed, she does not like it. both of your feet are planted on the ground, she does not like it. she does not like it. how you are sitting on the edge of the bed, like you are one step away from running away, again. you look at her. she does not like it. how you are sitting, both of your feet are planted on the ground, like you are one step away from running away again.

she pushes you further into the bed, you are now lying on your back. you look at anything but her. you are lying on your back, she seems satisfied now, she seems pleased now. you look at anything but her, but she seems satisfied, pleased.

she sits sideways next to your torso, hair and arms caging your body in. she sits sideways next to your torso, one foot under her body, one foot on the ground, hair and arms caging your body in. she calls your name. you hum as an answer. she does not like it. she calls your name. you hum as an answer. she does not like it. so you finally, finally look at her again.

“tell me, (name), who did this to you?”

you shake your head again now, unable to answer.

“is it one of the townspeople? (name)?”

you shake your head again now, unable to answer.

“tell me, (name), who did this to you?”

you close your eyes. it’s overwhelming. it’s overwhelming. it’s not fair, not fair, it’s unfair, unfair. unfair how she finds it so easy to ignore you and leave you alone for months, yet demand you to answer her questions when she wants to. it’s overwhelming. it’s overwhelming. it’s not fair, not fair, it’s unfair, it’s unfair! you think that it is overwhelming, that it is not fair, that it is unfair. you think. you do not like it. you do not like it.

you slam your right hand to the wooden headboard. you have no right. you have no right.

“(name)!” she shouts, her breath fanning your closed eyes.

your right hand in one of her hands, silently telling you to stop. you hesitate, still fighting her hold. your right hand in one of her hands, tighter, silently telling you to stop. you hesitate, still fighting her hold, again, but you stop, finally, like she is telling you to.

“this one did this, shàng xiān! this one did, all of this.”

your cheeks in one of her hands, silently telling you to open your eyes. you hesitate. your cheeks in one of her hands, tighter, silently telling you to open your eyes. you hesitate, again, but you open your eyes, finally, like she is telling you to.

“(name),” she says, cold, “why did you do this?”

you want to hold your heart. why is she so cold to you? this is the first time, why is she so cold to you? have you truly failed now? you want to hold your rapidly beating heart. you are terrified. why is she so cold to you? this is the first time, why is she so cold to you? have you truly failed now? you are terrified, why are you terrified?

(‘a-niáng, why does a-(name) feel so terrified when a-(name) sees a-diē?’)

(‘a-niáng does not know, a-(name), a-niáng was taught that it is just love.’)

(‘love?’ ‘yes. love makes you feel terrified. it is just how love works.’)

is that it? it that it? is it love? then why must love work that way? why must love make you feel terrified, why must love work that way? you do not think that that is love, but what is love? you do not think that that is love, but what is love, what do you know of love? then, is that it? is that it? is it love? do you love her?

“this one, this one…” you hesitate, “this one loves shàng xiān.”

you would miss it. yes, you would miss it. miss how her blue, blue eyes widen in shock, just for a single moment. just for a single moment, not even a breath long. you would miss it, if you had not opened your eyes.

“(name),” she says, cold, “you do not love me.”

she stops caging you in, she removes herself completely from you. you should be able to breathe properly now, now that neither of you are sharing your breaths with each other. she stops caging you in, you should be able to breathe properly now, you should be glad. she removed herself completely from you, you should be able to breathe properly now, you should be glad. but you are not glad. you want to be unable to breathe properly if it means that the both of you would share your breaths with each other again.

but you stop. you stop yourself from wanting. because even without wanting, you are still unable to properly breathe. you stop, you stop yourself from wanting. but the want continues, the wanting continues.

you want, want, want. you want a feeling you are unworthy of truly having, of truly wanting.

“this one does,” you hesitate, “this one does… love shàng xiān.”

“(name),” she says, cold, “you do not love me.”

you shake your head. your head hurts, your heart hurts too. you shake your head, you shake, shake, shake. you shake your head like you are right and she is wrong. even when you know that she is right and you are wrong, you shake your head like you are right and she is wrong. you love her, you love her, you love her.

“this one does, shàng xiān,” you insist, “this one loves shàng xiān.”

you love her, you love her, you love her, you love her, you love her, you love her, you love her. you chant, over and over, over, over and over, in your mind. you love her, you love her, you love her. why? why, why. why. why? why does it not feel real? why does it feel like you are convincing yourself, why does it not feel real?

she lets out a breath you did not know she was holding. you let out a breath you did not know you were holding.

“do you love me?” she asks.

“you protect me,” you answer.

“do you love me?” she asks.

you hesitate. you hesitate and then you hesitate again. then you hesitate and hesitate some more and you hesitate again. you hesitate. you shake your head.

she nods.

“you do not love me, (name),” she says. she hesitated, you notice.

she looks at you, searches for something you do not know.

“you do not love me,” she says, “so do not hurt yourself over me.”

you nod.

a blanket of silence covers both of your bodies. you wonder what xixi is doing. if she is sleeping like she does a lot these days. a blanket of silence covers the both of you, you wonder what xixi is doing, you wonder what she is thinking. if xixi is sleeping like she does a lot these days, you wonder what she is thinking.

“go sleep, (name),” she says. she is leaving.

no, you do not want her to leave. you want a feeling you are unworthy of having, of wanting. you do not want her to leave. no, do not leave, please.

“no, shàng xiān,” you say, “do not leave, please.”

she looks at you, searches for something you do not know.

she sits beside your lying body. she does not look at you, but she sits beside your lying body. she stays, she does not leave. she sits beside your lying body, as you fall closer and closer to sleep. you feel like jianyu, unable to sleep alone when in pain. you feel like jianyu, unable to sleep alone. how you miss jianyu, how you miss her.

wait? you ‘miss’ her? how? wait, how can you ‘miss’ her when she is always around? you miss her? how? she is always around. no. no, stop.

for the first time in so many moons, you fall asleep to the scent of flowers and ink.

you dream about her. you dream about her and you. she laughs in the dream, she laughs, but you cannot see her face. she laughs, but you cannot see her face, cannot hear her laugh. she laughs in the dream, but it feels like a lie. it feels like a lie. you could never make her laugh.

she laughs in the dream because of something you said, you made her laugh. you made her laugh in the dream. because of something you said, she laughs. only in the dream, only in your dreams. it feels like a lie, it is a lie, you could never make her laugh.

and she holds your hands like she did all those moons ago. she holds your hands, your bruised hands like she did all those moons ago. and you wonder what changed. what changed, what had changed? ah, it's you. it's you! it's you.

“why do you protect me?”

“i do not know,” she says.

a blanket of silence covers both of your bodies.

“you make me want to protect you.”