Dimmed candle lights, the cold night breeze, a humming song was heard,
"纤云弄巧,Xiān yún nòng qiǎo
飞星传恨, fēi xīng chuán hèn
银汉迢迢暗度. yín hàn tiáo tiáo àn dù.
金风玉露一相逢,Jīn fēng yù lù yī xiāng féng
便胜却人间无数.biàn shèng què rén jiān wú shù.
柔情似水,Róu qíng sì shuǐ
佳期如梦,jiā qī rú mèng
忍顾鹊桥归路.rěn gù què qiáo guī lù.
两情若是久长时,Liǎng qíng ruò shì jiǔ cháng shí,
又岂在朝朝暮暮. yòu qǐ zài zhāo zhāo mù mù.
Wisps of clouds weave artful skies,
Shooting stars bear silent sighs.
Across the Milky Way, secretly you come to me.
One night in autumn's golden breeze,
Outshines a thousand worldly pleasures.
Love soft as water, sweet as dreams,
How can I bear to leave you, watching moonlight gleam?
But if our souls are bound forever true,
Must we cling to every dawn and dusk—just us two?"
Ashile was sitting on a wooden couch. His voice was soft and subtle. On his lap laid a man, a mature man whose skin was as white as a porcelain. He was in his 40th, and yet the handsomeness of the youth could be traced on his face. Ashile gently caressed the man's forehead to his thin facial hair.
"Beautiful piece..."
The man said replying to Ashile's humming. He opened his eyes, looking straight to Ashile. His eyes were dazzling dark brown, big and round, with double eyelids and long tappering eyelashes. Those eyes were enticing. Yet, tiredness and fatigue was seen through the reflection of his eyeballs.
"Jun, why haven't you slept?" Ashile smiled. His fingers traced the small mole under Yang Jun's left eye.
"How could I sleep when someone is singing a beautiful love song?" Yang Jun's hand grabbed Ashile's, deepening his hand touch as if he wanted to feel his cold hand more.
"I am humming it so you can have a good sleep. These past days, you do not even blink your eyes."
"Emm..." he replied shortly. As Ashile twisted his hair, he asked, "How long have we been together?"
Ashile was stunned, why is he suddenly ask that? Knowing that Ashile had no sense of time, Yang Jun wouldn't ask him that question.
"I don't know."
"Ah, yeah, I forgot, You were a dementia old man who had perhaps living for a century." Yang Jun hit Ashile's chest jokingly, then turned back his body. The 'age' topic was sensitive to him as the person who spoke to him had not got older at all. Ashile was still stunning with the look of youngster, while he had reached his 40s. When they walkwd together, people would mistake them as uncle and nephew, older brother and little one, or worse father and son.
"Why are you getting angry?" Ashile whispered in Yang Jun's ear. He positioned Yang Jun to face him, giving him a smile. He was glad that even after reaching mature age, Yang Jun would still act spoiled only to him.
Yang Jun's complexion was changed. He attained Ashile's face, stroking it gently, then playing with his long hair. "Say, Ashile, will you ever become stranger to me?"
"No. I won't. Why?"
"My time is fleeting. I am getting old day by day. One day, I will become the one you do not even recognize anymore. Then I will die..."
In a sudden, a finger landed on his lips, discontinuing him to say more. He tilted his head up, meeting gaze with Ashile. His black onyx eyes were gentle and warm, still it looked so sad.
"Please, don't say it. No matter how old you get; how nagging you have become; how annoying you are; I will always be by your side. If you die, I will chase you to the underworld to find you. If you rebirth, I can identify you right away. I will never let you go -- not in this life, next life, until eternity. " His voice was shaking, while his tear fell on Yang Jun's face.
Yang Jun smiled faintly. He did not say anything only hugging tightly to Ashile's arm. After some moments, he finally asked,
"Ashiq (عاشق), your real name in your mother tongue. Can I call you that?" He turned his back again. Ashile could see his ears turned red from behind.
Ashile tipped Yang Jun's head, looking straight at his dark brown eyes. After a moment of hesitation, he leaned on, whispering, "You are welcome to call me whatever you want."
His face was so closed to Yang Jun's as their nose brushed each other. His lips landed softly to Yang Jun's, claiming him. As if it announced, finally...
***
That silhouette was so familiar. Even if only dimmed by the faint moonlight, he could tell who that person was.
As A Nin charged fast toward that man, he just stood there, discerning the situation. He did not know if it was a dream or reality. Was his yearning too obvious that it incarnated physically? But it is nonsense.
No cultivation in this world could physically turned the energy into living one -- except that it was a doll, controlled by someone.
As he observed keenly the fight, his hypothesis was refuted. A doll could never copy a person to that extent.
How is it possible? He was certain Yang Jun had died in his embrace. He was the one whom witnessed Yang Jun's last breath.
The miracle he hoped for 15 years abode before him . His heart was full of excitement and joy, but his brain kept demanding logical explanation.
Yang Jun was a swordman. Sword and sicca daggers were two different types of weapon, which using different art. He had never seen Yang Jun used a dagger, but his opponent's art style was exactly identic to Yang Jun's -- the movement and dynamic.
His thought was colluded until he saw that man was able to perform nine cloud heavenly steps. He was the one who taught Yang Jun that art, and Yang Jun was the one who gave the silly name to it.
He threw the sicca dagger and joined in a fight. He deliberately used paper fan which a treasure from Yang Jun to put that man in the test. In result, there were many times he avoid ruininh that paper fan.
Even though the man put on the mask, he could imagine the face behind it. He discerned the posture and composition that his opponent was in his 20s. Not only alive but younger...? Unless....
He spotted a little mole of his left eye through the reflection on sicca dagger. To make sure his conjecture, he drew his sword and cut the man's mask in half.
He knew clearly who the man was. But he couldn't help his feeling overwhelming. He was a handsome young man, skin as white as porcelain. That round bright eyes, pointy nose, and slightly red lips, belonged to a certain person he yearning for. No doubt, it was Yang Jun. Yang Jun he knew in the past, the 20s him.
"Yang Jun..."
As the man stepped closer to him, the moonlight gave Ashile a better look. Something was wrong. His eyes were dazzling and bright, that one could see their own reflection from his eyes. But this one, his gaze was cold and distance -- lifeless.
Ashile was startled. He understood that gaze. He knew better than anyone, that was his gaze before he met Yang Jun. Horror was seen on his face as it turned pale.
What happened to you, Jun?
Just in a moment, the time had frozen. It went back to the first time they met each other, the begining of their entangled fate.
***
Amidst the snowstorm, a boy covered in snow walked aimlessly. He did not know how long he had walked and where he was. He only knew he was very hungry. He did not remember when last time he had a meal. He took some snow and chewed it. That how he survived. Then, a group of horsemen --bandits crossed his path and took him with them.
That year was the coldest year through history, when the winter took longer than before. During the winter, the monsoon wind was blowing from the west to the east, prolonging the winter and creating storm hail. Due to the cold winter, food supplies were limited. Some areas were affected by the storm, specially in east region.
As per emperor's request, Ministry of Revenue (户部, Hù Bù) made Bureau of Emergency Relief (赈济司, Zhènjì Sī) to distribute grains and food. To train her sons about diplomatic matter, Yang Bao, sent them, Yang Zhen and Yang Jun to participate in. The group was set from capital city to region of Rou, eastern side of Gifu. But their journey was halted due to snowstorm. They had to take shelter in a town nearby, the You Hua town, a small town at southern east region of Dong Nan.
As a curious boy, Yang Jun was often wandering around, talking to townsfolk, or learning about their habit and culture.
Yang Jun was indeed a peculiar one. He liked to read various kind of books, learning, and practise them into action. He prefered listening to old men's story to playing with children his age. He had a high taste for calligraphy, art, poem, and music, yet his fashion taste was bland.
When he was 7 years old, his grandfather brought him to his family's military barrack. Since then, he would rather spend his days and night in the barrack with soldiers than in lavish Yang's residence with his family. He learnt martial art, military art and strategy there.
He had sweet mouth and a really good smooth-talker and a charmer. Besides, he also owned beautiful face -- like a maiden. He was often mistakenly as a girl. His eyes were big, bright and dazzling, enticing people into his favor. He was a little manipulator.
As he was walking around the town, he got lost at slum. That was the first time he saw what poverty meant. People from the children to old ones were begging along the street. They were so thin that the bones predominated out. In the heavy winter storm, they did not even have warm clothes or coat. It was contrast to his appearance. Seeing a fine boy, they gathered around him.
"Give us some bread..."
"Please, kind young master (公子Gōngzǐ), give us something to eat..."
He kindly took a piece of round bread from his robe. The child near him snatched it. The old woman behind the child, hushed him away, and grab that bread. More and more people fought for a piece of bread which was shapeless now. The pieces of it fell to dirty ground, scattered around. More and more people came fighting over it. After the bread was no more, they all looked at Yang Jun, prepare to pounce him.
Luckily, he had a good reflex to run away. Those beggars chased after him. But his luck only lasted for short time. He bumped into group of bandits and being captured away.
"This one is good one. They must be willing to pay a lot for this little one..." The one with mustache said while taking his small body.
"If someone does not pay a big ransom, he can be sell with pricely." The short one added.
"Bring him along!" The man who seemed to be the leader ordered. He then faced Yang Jun, "You are quite beautiful. Are you a boy or a girl? Nevertheless, it's your own fault for crossing path with us."
After he said that, a dirty smelly sack had covered his head. His hands were tied. Remarkably, during that situation, he was not showing any fear. His brain keep working, his perceptive keep giving information, and his head was calm.
He knew they were not ordinary bandits. They were human traffickers who kindnapped and sold human as slaves -- the shameless and lowlest ones.
Even if his eyes were shut, he could tell the paths they had just passed. He drew a map within his brain. As they arrived at a hut, Yang Jun's body was thrown away. They opened a sack and plestered Yang Jun's mouth with a piece of fabric.
"This one is so beautiful. How if we play with him?"
"Don't get that idea. Don't you see he wears the silk robe? He may be the son of highly respectable person. We cannot deal with such person. But, someone may pay high price for his freedom."
"Good idea. Sell him with good price, we can get away with the law and let our buyer handle him."
"That is the way of life. So, little one, don't blame us for your misfortune."
They left him in the room. At the time the bandits left, he scanned a whole room. The room was full of hays. His eyes were focused on one corner.
It laid a boy. His face was deadly pale as he slept. His complexion did not look good, as if he would pass away anytime. This boy was like an enigmatic puzzle for him to solve. Look like I won't be bored to death.
Glossary
1. The poem is titled "Què Qiáo Xiān · Xiān Yún Nòng Qiǎo" by Qín Guān from Song Dynasty. It is a romantic piece to cherish the loved one.
2. Ashiq (عاشق) means lover in persian. It is Ashile real name.