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Click, click, click– jingle, jingle, jingle–
The sound was unmistakable to every palace attendant in earshot. Immediately, eyes locked in avid interest, idle hands conveniently remembered all the tasks that needed to be done on the opposite end of the palace– anything that would get them a closer look at the visitor whose entrance so audibly preceded him, as he made his way confidently– smugly, even– to his destination: His Highness’ private chambers.
The Crimson Flower, the city’s most infamous and popular courtesan, had come to visit the Crown Prince of Xianle again– for what had to easily be the fifth time that month.
“Psst– over here– he’s about to turn the corner, quick–”
“What a shameless display– anyone would think he was a royal himself, with all those ornaments…”
“Oh, how handsome… every day he comes he looks more splendid than the last–”
“Hehe… do you think those robes were a gift from His Highness? They must be— just look at how they drape on him so– ahh, I can’t even say it! He must be quite eager to put on a show for his favorite patron…”
“Shh! Don’t refer to His Highness so casually! He’s been nothing but gracious ever since Crimson Flower was first summoned. What goes on behind closed doors is none of our… oh my – oh, heavens above, is he not wearing any pants?!”
Barely concealed whispers hissed from all around the imposing figure as he strode with purpose to his destination; a light smirk was the only hint of acknowledgement. No matter. If any of them made the mistake of gossiping too loudly or getting too close, he would simply resolve their misconduct as effectively as he had the last time. Swiftly, too– he would sooner fall on his own sword than be even a second late for a visit with the Crown Prince of Xianle.
When Prince Xie Lian had abruptly announced his interest in any courtesan at all– let alone the sultry and domineering Crimson Flower, of all people– many of the royal advisors were stricken with fear, and with good reason: both for the welfare of the young prince, and that the shock alone may very well have killed both Xie Lian’s parents outright and left Xie Lian with an unpleasant shove toward the throne. The young prince had adamantly refused to entertain any discussion of taking a wife or concubine ever since he came of age, instead thoroughly focusing on his training and personal points of interest. To say that no one expected such a change of heart would be comically understating it.
Just as soon as the surprise wore off, however, both the king and queen were overjoyed by their son’s sudden shift of mood– the king was not all too pleased by the prince’s selection, but between his wife’s enthusiasm and being too wise to look a gift horse in the mouth, the choice was approved, and Xie Lian immediately sent for the Crimson Flower to be invited to the palace, as cheerfully as if he were asking one of his attendants to join him an afternoon spar.
The Crimson Flower, as he was known amongst his peers– Hua Cheng, only to those with enough power or money to ask and be answered. The name itself didn’t even sound like it should belong to a person; more like a fine wine, some sinful promise of something– an act that is better completed than spoken of. A handful of the palace attendants had heard the name whispered about the golden halls as he arrived, practically dripping in red silk and tinkling silver ornaments.
Even the man’s stature was utterly beguiling as he glided through the Royal Palace: broad, firm shoulders and arms hinted at impressive physical capability; the muscular back tapered to a lithe waist adorned by intricate silver belts and chains, cinching the silhouette into something coquettish and inviting. His long, silky black hair was done up elegantly with an exquisite ornament, giving the appearance of a silver butterfly having alighted on the crown of his head. And perhaps the most striking crown jewel of all: one onyx black eye, and one ruby red, glittering beneath ink-dark brows like that of a bird of prey.
No one on earth could have more successfully embodied the phrase “if looks could kill.”
Despite the obvious luxury of their surroundings, everyone who bore witness to Hua Cheng’s first visit to the palace felt positively awestruck by his presence. Such elegance, such cold and imposing beauty, combined with a self-assured essence emanating from the man as he strode directly to the prince’s chambers– needless to say, all of it made for excellent gossip, even more so when the Crimson Flower didn’t depart until late in the evening. The following evening.
“I wonder when he’ll finally be taken in as His Highness’ concubine… it’s been almost a year since his first visit, so what’s the hold up?”
“His Highness must intend to request it soon. After all, it’s not as though he entertains any other visitors.”
“Oh, I’m just dying to know what they’re getting up to… say, can’t we try to get a listen? I’ll bet it we go around to the garden window, then we could–”
“Are you out of your mind?! If we get caught, Crimson Flower will have our heads– just our heads, if we’re lucky!”
It was true enough– the last person who had tried to sneak about the chambers for some juicy gossip had been spotted by the Crimson Flower himself. Later that week, their peers were informed of the man’s early, but very much needed retirement.
This had successfully dashed the plans of all aspiring flies on the wall, but such a show of possessiveness from the courtesan had only fanned the flames of their curiosity, and speculations flew more wildly than ever. Nevertheless, none of them had any more than their own feverishly prying minds to go off of; even those who were able to skim past the prince’s chambers while on duty would attest to that. Every time Crimson Flower visited, the rooms beyond those doors were serenely, perfectly silent.
Some of the cruder rumors were enough to raise eyebrows even among the most deviant minds: perhaps the Crimson Flower liked the silence, and must be clamping a broad hand over the Crown Prince’s lips to stifle the hazy moans of pleasure, gripping till saliva slicked the spaces between his fingers; better yet, stuffing the Prince’s mouth full of his own torn undergarments– better still, perhaps neither of them were allowing the other to reach completion, straining every muscle grinding against each others’ sweaty bodies and grunting softly, desperately into the bedding like animals in heat; or maybe this was all some elaborate, debauched roleplay demanded by His Highness himself, craving an escape from the prison of his royal duties and flawless persona.
Such theories were all the talk of the palace– and all talk they would remain, even to the subjects themselves. Talk was of little concern to them right now, of course. They were far more concerned with the matter at hand: that being their successful escape from Xie Lian’s bedchamber window.
The prince’s rooms may have been utterly silent, but the only sound that would have given the pair away was their giddy laughter, suppressed to breathy giggles and the occasional shh! as Hua Cheng steadied his grip on the lowest limb of the tree just outside the window and dropped his feet to brace against the trunk; deftly shimmying his body closer to the center before pointing the tip of one foot toward the earth, he finally dropped down with a slight rush of the grass flattening beneath his feet. He wasn’t on the ground for more than a heartbeat before turning a brilliant grin up to his runaway prince where he sat tucked between the boughs of the budding tree; Hua Cheng could have mistaken the blushing young man for a blossom himself, were he not so thoroughly convinced of that fact already.
Xie Lian allowed himself one more conspiratorial giggle before following the same path Hua Cheng had mapped out, moving swiftly and assuredly from branch to branch, spiraling down the length of the tree until he stood on that same lowest limb. Then, with an impish glint in his eyes that never failed to drive Hua Cheng wild, he gathered his robes in his fists, and leapt. For a glorious moment, the Crown Prince of Xianle was not falling, but flying, lifted by the very wind and rays of dusky sun that illuminated his body, as if cupped in the palm of the heavens.
Of course, what flies must also fall– and of course, Xie Lian felt the heavy grasp of gravity sweeping his long hair from his face, pulling the earth back up to reclaim him– but not before Hua Cheng did. Despite their attempts at stealth, Xie Lian couldn’t quell a peal of joyous laughter at the feeling of those arms closing about him, catching him as steadily as though Hua Cheng had read his mind. Perhaps he really had.
What was the palm of the heavens to him, compared to the embrace of the man he loved?
Safely descended, the pair allowed themselves only a moment of rest before Xie Lian was lowered carefully to his feet, and they were running; hand in hand, their robes hiked up about their calves, the pair ducked beneath flower-laden boughs and darted around still ponds that dotted the prince’s private gardens. Further, faster, together they leapt over the low stone wall that marked its border, and further still– directly into the wilderness of Mount Taicang beyond.
They knew and loved the mountain well– in truth, as well as they knew and loved each other. This knowledge likely would have been even more shocking to the couple’s hardworking rumor mill than the raunchy tales they were producing all on their own, but ah well. What they didn’t know certainly wouldn’t kill them, and both Hua Cheng and Xie Lian were pointedly unconcerned with what nonsense was keeping others’ gums flapping. The truth– their truth– was much rarer, much more precious, and all theirs to keep.
As children, the mountain was a steadfast friend: for Hua Cheng, a towering and indifferent land where fairness ruled, providing a welcome respite from his oppressive home; for Xie Lian, it was a rare burst of wild, unbridled life, a place where he could dirty his clothes, tangle his hair, and run freely without fear of looking unprincely. With the frequency at which they both stole away up the mountainside, it was only a matter of time before the two encountered each other, one curious and friendly, one skittish and starstruck. Though they hailed from such vastly different backgrounds, the rich landscape of Mount Taicang served as a physical equalizer.
On the mountain, they didn’t have to be a crown prince and a cursed child. On the mountain, they could be playmates and equals, kings and generals, gods and ghosts, the truest friends either of them could have ever hoped to find– and eventually, on the day a nine-year-old blotchy-faced Hong’er presented an eleven-year-old Xie Lian with one pristine, blood-red flower and wholeheartedly asked for his hand in marriage, sworn sweethearts. Xie Lian had enthusiastically consented, and the topic was never discussed again, only accepted as fact.
Every stolen moment was spent together among those trees and hillsides, always till the very last hair of a second: eventually Hong’er had to make at least a brief appearance at home, or face even harsher punishments, and eventually Xie Lian could hear the frantic calls from the palace grounds, even from that height. Their partings were reluctant, though they always found ways to make up for the lost time when they next met. For a long time, this was enough. Unfortunately, time isn’t any kinder to those in love.
The years flew faster than either of them could have realized at the time. In the blink of an eye, they found themselves unceremoniously hurled into adolescence, and the distance between their stations suddenly multiplied tenfold. Xie Lian had finally come of age, and was combatting lofty expectations of royal duties, concubines, and wives; Hong’er was only barely emerging from a torturous household, scrabbling for a steady handhold to anywhere else, so long as it was up and out.
By their last meeting, the time between their rendezvous had stretched to multiple weeks, sometimes months. Xie Lian’s parents and retainers had long since caught on to their errant prince’s tendencies, which made escaping much more difficult. Every spare moment Hong’er had demanded to be dedicated to any work he could find, any avenue to establish his independence. Their disparities had finally reared back and landed a deadly, lasting blow on the wedge driven between the pair.
Where once there had been only a mountain to climb together, hand in hand, there was now an impossible chasm, deeper and darker than they have ever realized before.
That final day together would be carved into their memories for years. Hong’er was dirtied and exhausted from a day of carpentry work that had begun at sunrise, and would have gone well into the night had he not skirted his remaining tasks to clamber up the mountain again. Xie Lian had only just managed an escape from a royal banquet, of all things, and would certainly face an even harsher curfew for his transgression; he stood helplessly before his dearest friend with opulent garments and ornaments askew, the fading sunset lighting the bittersweet tears in his eyes like rosy little jewels.
It had taken so much to steal only half an incense time– and they both knew, deep and hollow in their cores, that at this rate, there would not be another.
Despite this, Hong’er smiled, wide and hopeful, and promised that he’d make sure to clean himself up more next time; after all, it wasn’t proper to greet His Highness in such a state. Xie Lian swallowed hard against a lump in his throat, and bit his lip so hard he nearly drew blood. He didn’t think twice about hugging Hong’er, in spite of the latter’s protests about dirtying him– one hint of a sob was enough to lock their arms about each other in a tight, forlorn embrace. See you soon, they both said, clutching each other with white knuckles. See you soon.
Their descent from Mount Taicang was never heavier or more grueling than it was that day. They both moved sluggishly, stumbling on roots and stones that they had memorized by heart, feeling each step prick their heart until it had been pierced one hundred times over. At last, alone again at the foot of the mountain, the two looked back on the great heights they’d left behind.
In Xie Lian’s heart, a deep, abiding melancholy sprouted- one that he vowed to nurture until his dying day. In Hong’er’s, however, there was only iron-clad determination: to forge a path back to His Highness, whatever it took.
Xie Lian might have missed it, in truth, were it any other name. Poring over the mind-bogglingly long list of potential companions his father’s advisors had sent him (even longer than the last one they’d sent, to his exasperation and dismay), he made a perfect show out of considering each name, as though he was truly giving the notion due thought. Up until now, he thought he had done well at making his disinterest abundantly clear, but… well. Old dogs and new tricks, and all that.
He’d heard and read all sorts of tales on romance and marriage, from upstanding princes marrying virtuous young maidens to rakish types leaping at every opportunity to dive into someone’s bed. All of them felt quite silly, truth be told, even the tales of those perfectly honorable matches– no matter how pleasantly or sumptuously they were painted, Xie Lian had never found any trace of the soul connection he privately dreamed of. Seeking out any other companion and giving them only a polite, detached fraction of his heart was decidedly out of the question.
Yes, Xie Lian had found something like that “once in a lifetime” love. Yes, he had tended a hidden corner of his heart with care, where that love had sunk and taken root so many years ago. But by now, he was old enough to know that lightning never strikes the same place twice. His own love story was over before it had even truly begun.
Even so, Xie Lian found himself mentally apologizing to each name as he skimmed the list– he was certain they were all very nice people, truly he was. It was just that none of them were…
Hong’er.
Xie Lian’s idling finger froze at the sight, his whole body momentarily running cold as though he’d been doused in icy water. Could it be… Hong’er?
Of course, that wasn’t what was really written on the scroll. Charming as the childhood nickname was, even someone as biased as Xie Lian could admit that it hardly made an alluring moniker for a courtesan. It hardly mattered. Xie Lian’s mind had seen the written name, and immediately filled in the blank.
Hua Cheng– the Crimson Flower.
Xie Lian’s heart seized, then beat wildly anew.
It was him. It had to be.
There were hardly words for the reunion the two shared on that first infamous day, the day Hua Cheng was summoned to the Royal Palace to… partake in the Crown Prince’s company for the first time. Xie Lian’s joyful tears and Hua Cheng’s crushing embrace were certainly a far cry from the depravity the rest of the palace’s occupants were currently imagining.
The years had changed them both, of course: Xie Lian had somewhat outgrown some of his youthful naivety, and had earned the faint creases about his eyes and mouth– too many years spent smiling out of decorum, and not true happiness. Hua Cheng, having finally found his footing in the world, had shot up like a weed, surpassing his formerly malnourished state in leaps and strides, and shining like the gem Xie Lian had always known him to be. Even more beautiful than I remember, they both thought. They said so to each other, through blessedly happy sobs and smiles that made their faces ache, not one thought spared for subtlety.
So much time had already been wasted; what was the use in hiding it anymore?
They had talked and talked all afternoon, then all evening, then well into the night, only stopping to doze off in each other's arms. As soon as the sun woke them the following day, they did what any two people would do when they’d been betrothed for over ten years, and kissed each other good morning. Their first kiss was as electrifying as it was familiar, as if they’d never even touched, as if they’d kissed one thousand times before. The talking came a little less easy after that, as neither of them seemed to be able to keep a train of thought for long, before remembering they could simply be kissing instead.
Xie Lian almost didn’t let Hua Cheng leave, and Hua Cheng could hardly blame him. The chill of all those lonely years still gripped them both at the thought of parting again. However, after the second visit in that same week, then the next week, and then the next four in the following month, that hold began to slowly loosen and slip away.
This time, goodbye didn’t have to mean forever.
Branches and brush broke underfoot as the pair climbed, scaling the mountain as swiftly and merrily as the children they once were; every once in a while, Xie Lian would almost slip, the delicate courtly shoes not remotely intended for hiking, and Hua Cheng would steady him with one strong hand against his elbow. Sometimes, anticipating a larger step, Hua Cheng would simply seize the prince by the waist and hoist him over a dip in the earth, just for the delight of hearing him yelp with surprise and laughter, nearly slipping himself as Xie Lian tugged on his arm in urging to “keep up, San Lang!”
The steady incline was meaningless when compared to the rush of their heartbeats, and just as the sun had begun to lower itself into the darkening horizon as though stepping into a steaming bath, the couple finally reached a suitable peak, far enough away that they would not be disturbed.
They finally collapsed side by side onto the forest floor, the exercise having thoroughly caught up with them. Half of Hua Cheng’s silver ornaments had snagged on branches during the ascent, and hung crooked from his hair and shoulders. Xie Lian’s pristine robes were filthy and rumpled beyond recognition. Hua Cheng’s seductive red silk tunic was unattractively bunched up about one hip. Xie Lian was missing a shoe. They surely looked ridiculous, like utter madmen; nothing at all like the crown prince of a nation and a courtesan as deadly as he was alluring. Again, Mount Taicang had worked its magic on them both: all they were up here were two young men, hopelessly in love.
Occasionally a half-hearted laugh and hum of exhaustion punctuated their heaving breaths– the irony of what had really gotten them so out of breath compared with the average assumption of the activity between a prince and a courtesan might have been a funny thought, if they had any mind to spare for it. There were far more pressing matters to handle, at present.
“Ah… hah… how– whew … how much time do you think we have, San Lang?”
“Ahem– hah, well… that depends.” Hua Cheng turned his head in the grass, shooting Xie Lian a devious look. “How much gossip does His Highness want to stir up?”
Xie Lian snorted a laugh through his nose– entirely un-princely, just how Hua Cheng loved it. “You’ll have to forgive me for not being so concerned with that– I have much better things to do.”
Xie Lian rolled over and crawled the small remaining distance to Hua Cheng, draping his loose hair over them both like a canopy; Hua Cheng could see and smell the grass and dirt in it, could taste the sweat in their deep, lingering kiss. Around them, the whistle of the breeze accompanied the sound of their lips meeting, parting, meeting again– when it came to kissing each other, goodbye never meant forever.
“Mmm… Gege is so devilish under all those princely manners… absconding with a courtesan in broad daylight, running up the mountain like a wild thing?” Hua Cheng punctuated the accusation with a light nip to Xie Lian’s lower lip, noting the shiver it sent coursing through the prince’s body with delight. “Shameless.”
Despite his flaming complexion, Xie Lian knocked his nose against Hua Cheng’s in teasing. “Hah– maybe if this was any other courtesan. This is San Lang. It’s different.”
Crimson Flower to peers; Hua Cheng to those with heavy enough pockets; Hong’er to precious few– and now, San Lang to only a precious one. Hua Cheng had dreamed of being called so sweetly in the years he spent building his reputation, all in the hopes of finding his gege again– upon asking Xie Lian what he thought of the endearment, Xie Lian had hardly heard him out before he beamed in smitten agreement. San Lang, San Lang… you truly are my San Lang, he had said, over and over, turning the name about in his darling mouth like a treasure until Hua Cheng felt sure that he had vastly underestimated the durability of his own heart under these circumstances.
Now, Hua Cheng was more or less used to the feeling of his heart bursting with more love than he thought it could hold. Call it an occupational hazard.
The air had begun to cool about them, raising tiny little goosebumps along Xie Lian’s exposed neck. Hua Cheng absentmindedly brought one hand up to brush his knuckles against the skin, marveling at how petal-soft it felt, how delicately the rhythm of Xie Lian’s pulse danced against it.
“I still wonder sometimes at how you knew it was me, back then.”
Xie Lian cocked his head. “Do you?”
“Mm-hm. After all, I’d– we’d changed so much.” Hua Cheng shook his head lightly, twirling a lock of chestnut hair contemplatively about one finger. “Yes, I always had hope– but whether it was a foolish hope, I couldn’t tell. Not without knowing if you shared that same hope, too.”
Xie Lian brought one hand to intertwine with Hua Cheng’s and squeezed the fingers with intent. “No, love– not foolish. Never foolish. I’d hoped, too– I’d hoped and prayed that one day we’d find each other again. I’d know you anywhere, by name or not. And as soon as I saw you, I was certain. You weren’t so changed that I wouldn’t know my Hong’er– my San Lang.”
Hua Cheng’s smile warmed with affection, even as he raised one impish brow. “Gege, you wound me– you know I looked like a stray cat half the time, back then. Not so changed, indeed– hmph.”
Xie Lian openly laughed at the put-upon offense, pulling one hand away to smooth his beloved wild hair. Perhaps he had spoken truer than intended. “Well, then– a very, very cute stray cat, at least.”
“And almost just as rabid.”
“Oh hush! That’s not true. San Lang is conveniently forgetting just how unruly I was back then, too.” Xie Lian clambered to his feet, wincing lightly as he made note of a pulled muscle here and there. Maybe he was actually getting too old for a literal whirlwind romance– but looking down at Hua Cheng sprawled in the grass of their childhood haunt, painted blush pink and gold in the falling light, it felt quite unlikely.
Xie Lian beamed, and extended both hands to him, palms up. “And anyway– all anyone needs is a little love.”
Hua Cheng eagerly took them, letting Xie Lian pull him to standing. At this angle, Hua Cheng was towering over him again, granting him the perfect position to press a tender kiss to the tip of Xie Lian’s nose. “Gege is very gracious. As gracious as he is beautiful.”
Xie Lian stepped slightly back, grinning cheekily and turning in a pitiful show of his ruined clothing. “Heh– who’s the stray now?”
Hua Cheng chuckled dotingly, content in beholding the thoroughly disheveled love of his life for a brief moment– before he gave in to impulse, and swept forward to hoist Xie Lian into his arms, with no more warning than the swift rush of affection coloring his gaze. Xie Lian instinctively clung to those broad shoulders, felt them rise and expand as Hua Cheng nuzzled into his neck and breathed in, deep and indulgent.
“Not stray,” he murmured into the soft skin he found there, sealing the declaration with an open-mouthed kiss. “Mine. All mine.”
Xie Lian’s arms tightened about Hua Cheng’s shoulders, also by pure, delicious instinct. His eyes fluttered shut; this way, all he could hear, smell, and feel was Hua Cheng’s breath, Hua Cheng’s scent, Hua Cheng’s body, held securely in his embrace– never to be lost again. Softly, he echoed the sentiment, whispering it like a promise.
“All mine.”
The sun turned a rich gold as it set fully, then painted Mount Taicang in broad strokes of purple and blue. All the while, the two lovers held each other. They had made so many vows here before; the wilderness was practically teeming with them. Every stolen moment, every secret shared, every promise made had been planted in the mountainside, grown into the trees and flowers and fruit, flew with the birds who made their home here. They could practically feel the love overflowing as they drew back, only to join again in kiss after deepening kiss; it was pouring out of every part of them, washing over their bodies like the tides of the sea– never running dry, never ceasing.
In what little of Xie Lian’s mind that remained functioning, he affirmed to himself– not long now. It won’t be long now. He hadn’t been completely idle for the last year– between garnering favor with his father, conspiring with his mother, and privately making all the necessary arrangements, soon he’d be ready to tell his parents of his intent to marry. No monthly visits, no sneaking away (unless for fun), no lists of concubines, no other matchmaking required– he would marry Hua Cheng flat out, or not marry at all.
Approval and status and all the very scandalous things people would say about the match were silly details, as far as Xie Lian was concerned– they could keep talking till their tongues fell off for all he cared. No matter. For now, they’re home. For now, Hua Cheng is holding him and kissing him on the mountainside. For now, their souls are alight with love, and goodbye is not forever– just the promise of their next, beautiful hello.