IN THE BOUDOIR OF LINGERING FRAGRANCE, smoke rose in spirals. The floor was covered in soft red carpets, and the eight-grid bamboo door to the balcony had been flung open, revealing the rich red lacquer of the engraved banister beyond. Below the balcony a foxglove tree stood in full bloom, its branches wreathed in a smoky haze of pink and purple.
His Gu-shixiong was perched atop the wooden railing, one knee bent, holding a suona the color of weathered copper. That suona gleamed with a muted patina, the white silk ribbon tied to its shaft fluttering gently in the evening breeze.
The holy weapon Fengbo.
Surrounded by flowers, Gu Mang brought Fengbo to his lips. After testing out a few notes, he closed his eyes and played a throaty tune.
"Our sons went forth with swords held brave, their blood and bones…in distant grave."
Gu Mang had always used to prefer jaunty little folk tunes, but the melodies he now drew from the suona were heartrendingly sorrowful. Cheeks puffed and lashes trembling, he tilted his head back in the fragmented sunlight streaming through the flowers and played his suona.
"Last year this self was yet intact, last night this body spoke and laughed…"
The notes soared into the sky.
Mo Xi said nothing; the world's bitterest olive seemed to be stuck in his throat. He stood at the door, gazing at Gu Mang's distant silhouette as if into a dream of a past lifetime.
Hearing movement, the pipa girl turned in his direction. Her eyes widened, and she moved to kneel before Mo Xi waved a hand at her, indicating that she should remain quiet.
Gu Mang was engrossed in his playing. The lips wrapped around the reed were red and wet, and his cheeks were endearingly puffed in concentration. As the setting sun fell on his handsome face, it gilded his black hair in rich gold. He sat crooked on the red railing, turning to soak in the sight of the drifting petals and luminous dusk as he played. By his hands, the silk ribbon tied around the suona swayed like the tide.
"Your loyalty I safely keep, your valiant deeds I freely speak."
Slender fingers pressed down on the mottled suona, dancing smoothly as the world's softest breeze.
"For when these heroes' souls come home, throughout the land… shall peace be known."
Only when the song ended did Gu Mang slowly open his eyes, turning to smile. "Look, this way we didn't lose the melody, so…"
Halfway through his explanation, he noticed the pipa girl's rigid and fearful expression. He turned and noticed Mo Xi, who had appeared at the door when he wasn't looking. His smile froze.
After a beat of silence, Gu Mang amended his expression and adjusted his manner. He twirled the instrument in his slender fingers as he teased Mo Xi. "Xihe-jun, how refined your tastes are today—somehow you're at this pleasure house as well.
Mo Xi heard a frighteningly hoarse voice. It was a moment before he recognized it as his own. "Get out," he told the pipa girl.
"At once."
"Hold it," Gu Mang said.
The girl fell still. Gu Mang smiled as he cocked his head. "How bossy, Xihe-jun. How could you shoo away the girl I paid to spend the night with? Have you asked my permission?"
"Gu Mang," Mo Xi rasped. Emotions swept violently through his chest. "There are some things I want to discuss with you. Alone."
"What's there to discuss?" Gu Mang asked. "Two single men sharing a room is rather suspicious, don't you think? Especially since you're a rising star and I'm doomed. What could we have to discuss?"
"Gu Mang!"
Gu Mang raised a hand to disperse Fengbo, and the suona scattered into motes of glimmering light that merged back into his body. He leapt off the railing with his arms crossed, then looked down and chuckled. "Stop fussing, gorgeous. Now that you're on the up-and-up and have caught Princess Mengze's eye to boot, it would be terrible for your reputation to be seen in the company of an infamous libertine like me. We've been brothers for so many years, haven't we? Gege would feel bad."
The familiar cloying tone echoed in Mo Xi's ears. It wasn't a dream or an illusion. This was Gu Mang in the flesh, a man he could see and touch. The Gu Mang of eight years ago. Who was doing everything he could to distance himself from Mo Xi, to mock him, argue with him. Perhaps this grinning man had already made his plans to defect and leave quite soon.
The realization birthed a violent impulse that pummeled Mo Xi in the chest. The rims of his eyes reddened. "I won't leave." He said once more to the pipa girl, "Get out."
Gu Mang's eyebrows rose. "Did you not hear me? I've already bought her for the evening. If you chase her away, who will keep me company through the endless night ahead?"
"I'll stay," Mo Xi said.
Gu Mang blinked his dark eyes. "Do you know how to play pipa?"
"…I don't."
"Do you know how to sing me songs?"
"I don't."
"Well then, why would I want you?" Gu Mang smiled. "You're hardly worth her price."
Mo Xi didn't bother arguing with him. "Gu Mang. I'm not going to the northern frontier today."
Gu Mang cocked his head again, a deathly infuriating smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. "Mm, how nice for you. But what does that have to do with me?"
"It does have to do with you. Give me one more night. I have some things to say. If I don't say them now—" Mo Xi paused, looking squarely into Gu Mang's eyes. "I'm afraid I'll never get the chance to say them after."
Perhaps it was because he knew Gu Mang already intended to defect. When Mo Xi carefully observed the minute changes in Gu Mang's expression, he could see his features flicker slightly at this.
Gu Mang lowered his lashes. "I have no interest in dealing with military affairs tonight. I only want to lose myself in beauty. If you really want to talk, there'll be plenty of time in the future. We can talk when you get back."
"I can't wait until then."
More silence. The pipa songstress was caught in the middle, frozen like a wood carving or a clay figure, afraid to make a sound or move a muscle.
At length, Gu Mang lowered his head. His chuckle was like a long sigh. "Why are you still clinging to me? I no longer have anything left."
"I just want to talk."
Smiling, Gu Mang stabbed every cruel word deep into Mo Xi's heart. "What's there to talk about? Your shige has nothing left to offer you. Please, Princess, I just want to cheer myself up a bit, have a little fun. You should leave. Let me go."
If Mo Xi had heard these words eight years ago, he might've been deceived. He might've believed that Gu Mang was merely heartbroken and upset, that he'd make a full recovery after some time messing around. But the Mo Xi who stood before Gu Mang now had the knowledge of eight years. To hear Gu Mang speak of "fun" only filled Mo Xi with an indescribable heartbreak and irony.
"Just for one night," Mo Xi rasped. "Save tonight for me."
Gu Mang sighed. "Don't make it sound so indecent. You have a long road to walk in the future, you need to guard your purity…"
"Am I still pure?"
There was a deafening silence. Even the pipa girl's head had jerked up in shock. She swiftly turned her bloodless face back to the ground, trembling delicately.
Finally, Gu Mang laid down that detestable smile. He looked at the man standing before him, at Mo Xi's stubborn and furious expression, his gaze inscrutable. "Have you lost your mind?" he whispered.
"You know exactly what I mean."
Gu Mang said nothing. Before he had been tempered in the Liao Kingdom, Gu Mang had been wickedly sharp, seeming to possess a demonic sixth sense that told him precisely what his Mo-shidi was thinking. But today, as he looked at the man before him, Gu Mang felt a sense of unfamiliarity; he couldn't read him at all. Gu Mang had wanted to make Mo Xi furious with him before he left. But now, as Mo Xi glared at him fiercely from across the room, Gu Mang found those sharp eyes filled with a mix of emotions he couldn't understand. There was heartbreak there, and dread, and hurt.
Yes, he seemed to look hurt. Gu Mang observed this almost helplessly. The rims of Mo Xi's eyes were already red with unshed tears.
Mo Xi clenched his jaw, eyes stinging. In a rough yet determined voice, he continued. "I've long lost any purity I had; I don't care about these things. You can't chase me away."
Gu Mang had no retort. He felt more and more helpless, more and more uneasy. In the end, he conceded; he couldn't change Mo Xi's mind. He sighed and turned to the pipa girl. "Miss Feitian, my apologies. There's a madman here—I must ask you to withdraw."
Miss Feitian finally heard the words she'd been waiting for. She excused herself and practically fled the Boudoir of Lingering Fragrance. Only the two men remained in the richly appointed room perfumed with incense.
Gu Mang came in from the balcony. He waved his hand to close the wooden doors, then turned into the room. A gentle flick of his fingertip lit the candle on the copper crane rack. Only then did he approach Mo Xi, coming dangerously close without the slightest hesitation, until mere inches remained between them.
Gu Mang looked up, a question in his dark eyes and provocation in his gaze. Their breaths rose and fell in the space between them. He reached out to stroke the line of Mo Xi's elegant jaw. "Look at you," he whispered. "Well done—you made such a fuss even the girl I paid for left. Are you pleased with yourself?"
Gu Mang sized him up as he would a brothel girl, scrutinizing Mo Xi's face. After a moment, his gaze slid down to Mo Xi's pale lips. He brushed his thumb over the softness of his mouth, caressing it.
"Since you were so keen to rush over here and fight for my favor… I'll allow you to accompany me for one last night," Gu Mang murmured. "After tonight, Princess, we'll keep to ourselves—no more of this."
He grabbed Mo Xi by the lapels and pulled him into a kiss.
There came a muffled groan. Wet lips captured cool ones, and a clever tongue snuck into Mo Xi's mouth to dance like a butterfly tasting nectar, drinking in his breath, his scent.
This same Gu-shixiong who spoke with cruel indifference was always the one to make the first move when they kissed. He enjoyed it, caressing Mo Xi with those soft and glossy lips, seducing him with those dense lashes, passionately pressing his tightly muscled abdomen against Mo Xi's, almost as if he wanted to become one with him.
But it was only ever almost, wasn't it. Gu Mang's forwardness was the cause, first for Mo Xi's misunderstanding, then later, his intoxication. In the end, the largest part of what was left for Mo Xi was heartbreak. He remembered vividly their first union on the night he came of age. His heart had felt steeped in honey—he'd assumed Gu Mang loved him back. He'd assumed that from then on, he could lock his shixiong to his side with assurance and take him for himself.
But in the light of day, Gu Mang had told him the events of that night were but a momentary impulse.
After that, they shared many such momentary impulses. He drove Gu Mang into delirium so many times, melted him into soft spring waters until Gu Mang, in his tent, couldn't help but say that he liked him. Until Gu Mang, in his arms, couldn't help but say that he wanted this. Until Gu Mang, in his stare, couldn't help but say that he loved him.
But once the storms of passion cleared, Gu Mang would change, waving it all off as a moment of indulgence. So Mo Xi had managed to lay claim to his body again and again, taking for himself all of the softness hidden within that chitinous shell. But these repeated entanglements, impossibly intimate yet impossibly sorrowful, only left Mo Xi ever more lost and heartbroken. He waited for Gu Mang to believe him, hoped for Gu Mang to treat him with sincerity.
But no matter how many times they lost themselves in each other, no matter what nonsense Gu Mang babbled as he shivered with passion—when day broke, never would Gu Mang acknowledge the feelings between them. Mo Xi couldn't understand this. He couldn't understand why Gu Mang would curl so close if he didn't love him back; why Gu Mang would tumble with him between the sheets if he didn't plan on spending a lifetime with him.
He understood even less why Gu Mang could now embrace and kiss him so freely when he intended to defect. Clearly Gu Mang already wanted to leave. He already knew he would leave, that they would be torn apart by their loyalties and meet next with blades drawn. How could he be so calm and composed…
Gu Mang abruptly hissed and pushed Mo Xi away. Pressing a hand to his lip, he stared at Mo Xi in shock. "Were you born in the year of the dog? What are you biting me for?!"
The rims of Mo Xi's eyes were wet and red, his expression betraying shame and anger, hatred and sorrow. In the glow of the lamplight, he stared into Gu Mang's eyes. Only after several seconds did he brusquely ask, "What do you take me for?"
"You're the one who wanted to take Miss Feitian's place and keep me company." Gu Mang paused; he had more to say, but the hurt on Mo Xi's face brought him up short. As he watched the young man standing before him—his chest heaving as he tried yet failed to stay calm—Gu Mang's resolve suddenly wavered.
Would Gu Mang really bed a man for no reason other than pleasure? He who was known as the Beast of the Altar, who commanded countless troops—would he willingly lie with a man three years his junior and allow himself to be fucked into delirium with no reservations?
No. He hadn't made a carnal mistake because of a silly impulse, nor did he repeat it just to chase a fleeting pleasure. In truth, Gu Mang had long since developed a fondness he barely recognized; from this rose the impulse, and from this the pleasure. His heart had stopped belonging to himself long ago—it was just that he was unwilling to admit or accept it.
Gu Mang looked into Mo Xi's reddened eyes and sighed. He lifted a hand, wanting to touch his young and handsome face. "Oh, you… If I'm not here in the future…"
Mo Xi's eyes filled with tears. He couldn't hold back any longer. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Gu Mang, hugging him so tightly, so forcefully, so deeply, as if he wanted to break Gu Mang apart and smuggle him into his bones, as if he wanted to use his own flesh to imprison Gu Mang's. Only then could he keep this man with him forever. Only thus could he prevent that future betrayal, that future confrontation and the dagger in his heart.
Gu Mang sighed in his arms. "What's gotten into you today?"
"I just want you to be well." Mo Xi rested his chin on the top of Gu Mang's head as he held him tight. "If there's any sadness or grievance in your heart, won't you tell me?" Mo Xi asked hoarsely. "Could you let me share the burden? Could you not overthink it? Don't bear it all alone…"
"Mo Xi…"
Mo Xi cupped the back of Gu Mang's head with a large hand, folding him even more tightly, even more deeply into his embrace. The pain of regaining what was lost, only to soon lose what he'd regained, set every inch of him to shaking, reawakened every piece of him. Mo Xi held this Gu Mang of eight years past like he was embracing a wandering ghost that had finally come home. He closed his eyes, his straight brows drawing together as he murmured, "Shixiong…if there's something on your mind, could you not hide it from me?"
The person in his arms stiffened slightly but remained silent.
After a time, Gu Mang pushed him away. He pressed a hand to Mo Xi's chest, keeping them at arm's length. Those eyes, black as night, calmly met Mo Xi's.
"Xihe-jun," he asked lightly, "what is it you think I've hidden from you?"