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“It’s the Great South Garrison General!”
“Really!? Where?”
“Quick, are you done eating? Let’s go see him!”
In the blink of an eye, there was a flurry of hasty activity on the upper floor of the restaurant as an entire mob got up from their seats and cleared out the initially packed restaurant, almost jostling one another to get through the corridor that led to the ground floor.
Mere moments ago, animated shouts of delight on the rowdy streets had ignited multiple sparks of hushed whispers in the restaurant. The customers tried to maintain some semblance of decorum even as the excitement bubbling within almost got the better of them, manifesting in the way some of them sped up their chopsticks and their chewing, while others hurriedly requested for the waiters to pack their leftovers for later consumption.
And now, the floor was completely empty. It felt especially desolate, with just one man silently sipping away at his cup of tea. He hadn’t even reacted to the exuberant cheers on the street as fervent supporters of the South Garrison General rushed to catch a glimpse of their hero, nor did he bat an eyelid at the sudden movement and noise in his surroundings. Everything had been a blur to him—the bustling of Bastion City had merely become static noise drowned out by his thoughts, unable to coax him out of his stupor.
Rancui looked at the stuffed meat bun before him, taking a bite into its juicy, savory filling. The bun was steamed to perfect fluffiness, the soft texture and light sweetness dancing on his tongue before the explosion of contrasting flavors from the marinated meat burst forth. As simple as this meat bun was, it was truly a delectable delicacy. It made him yearn for a second bite immediately, but also called upon some bittersweet memories of that night.
“He’s here!”
“It’s the Great South Garrison General!”
Rancui continued enjoying his meal to the fullest while paying no heed to the commotion outside. His table was right by the balcony which oversaw much of the heart of Bastion City, and while he had been peering out curiously fifteen minutes ago, scanning the landscape and scenery with much interest, he could care less about the general and his entourage.
What South Garrison General? Sure, after all he had done to protect Bastion City, Guan Shanjin was worthy of the favor the Emperor endlessly bestowed upon him. He was an accomplished warrior with the guts to go head to head with any foreign threats, and an intelligence to match.
But Rancui could not say the same for General Guan’s character. After all, from his recollections of Guan Shanjin, Rancui couldn’t find anything good to say about this man as an individual. In the past, he could put on a false pretense and wear his sweetest smile as a facade that hid his contempt and disdain, along with all the profanities he tried to keep a tight leash on. But now? He could only hope Guan Shanjin would never become a member of the Peng Society, or else he would have to deal with this mess of a man again.
Rancui scoffed as he reached out for another sip of his tea, but his long, dainty fingers faltered at the sound of another’s name.
“Commander Hei!”
All his senses had dimmed at once, leaving only that name ringing in his head. Rancui’s attempts to resist the urge were in vain as he turned slightly towards the little parade happening on the streets. With much caution and anticipation Rancui searched the entourage, his fingers already curling up into tight fists from a mixture of anger and misery that had been bottled up for far too long.
But when his gaze landed on that familiar face that had a slightly shy and polite smile dancing on its lips, it was as if a thousand-year-old tree had finally bloomed once more, its saccharine fragrance permeating the air.
Rancui let out a shaky breath, his voice so muted no one else could possibly hear.
“Hei’er…”
His skin was cold and clammy to the touch, his limbs numb, but Rancui could perceive the warmth in his chest extending outwards gradually, spreading throughout his entire body.
He hated this feeling.
Rancui refused to allow his gaze to linger any further on that man, forcing his attention back onto the delicacies laid out on the table before him. Then he shoved a spoonful of milk pudding into his mouth, seeking out the sugary notes—as if the light sweetness could somehow distract him from the overpowering, cloying emotions that welled up within him.
Rancui stared at the half-eaten milk pudding, mildly annoyed that there somehow seemed to be traces of Commander Hei everywhere. He was not a sentimental person. At all.
…Right?
Rancui sighed. It’s fine—he could keep deceiving himself. Until it became the truth.
Outside that inconspicuous restaurant, Hei’er’s eyelid twitched slightly, and he found himself subconsciously drawn to that window where a lone figure sat. It was a man clad in a beautiful shade of cobalt, the deep hues exceedingly striking against his pale skin. Then a soft breeze blew past and sent those ebony locks of that mysterious guest fluttering lightly, revealing beautifully sculpted facial features that had been obscured before. The man’s side profile was gentle—he had shapely lips and a tall nose, and his eyebrows were arched slightly downwards, softening the prominently handsome features and giving him a slightly androgynous appearance.
His eyes were the prettiest feature of them all, and always shone brightly, even in a dark room dimly lit by the ever-diminishing luminescent glow of the waning moon. They exuded a mesmerizing charm capable of seducing one’s hidden, inner beast out of its restraints, beckoning it to surrender itself to hedonistic pursuits and descend into deeper carnal pleasures that were almost impossible to extricate oneself from.
Hei’er knew this well, because he knew the owner of that face.
He had once experienced first-hand the allure that man possessed. And after getting a taste, beyond that night Hei’er craved the other man more than ever before, fighting against the temptations born from the memory of that encounter.
But relentless as they were, he had never sought Rancui out again.
Then the breeze stopped, and Rancui’s hair gradually fluttered back into place, obscuring his lovely face once more, almost akin to curtains being drawn on that tumultuous phase of Hei’er’s life. He sighed inwardly, pulling his gaze away as he returned to acknowledging the grateful cheers from the public.
At his table, Rancui’s fingers trailed over an intricately-crafted silver hairpin displayed in a sturdy wooden box.
Then he fell into a daze as the noise from the crowd faded away.
“Cui’er, I don’t think this is the place for you anymore...”
Yu-jiejie had begun sobbing at the idea of Rancui’s imminent departure, in denial that he had to go, but resigned to reality—for it was more important that Rancui was happy and in a better place, than to be trapped here.
Rancui remembered how Yui-jiejie had once implored him to stay, because she couldn’t bear for him to be sent somewhere else. At least here, with her high standing as one of the most sought-after courtesans, she could watch over him and ensure he was treated fairly. She would even make sure that he secured the most suitable buyer for his deflowering.
But somewhere along the way, Rancui had gradually turned into a shadow of his former self, an empty husk that bore no sign of life within. Initially an eternally-blooming flower, his petals had fallen off one at a time, and what was left of him had already withered beyond recognition. It was unbearable for Yu-jiejie to witness, when she had watched him grow into the youth that he was. But any of that positivity and resilience had long vanished, and she struggled to uncover a single bud to nurture to its bloom, wondering where on earth she had gone wrong.
Rancui stared blankly at the sobbing figure before him, then tenderly patted her shoulder that quivered uncontrollably along with the rest of her body.
“Jiejie, I’m sorry.” At his quiet mumble, Yu-jiejie shook her head repeatedly, refusing to accept his apology. This was no one’s fault, and definitely not Rancui’s.
It was just…
Matters of the human heart were too complex to comprehend. They could become a head-splitting conundrum, especially without enough communication, but here, there weren’t real feelings to speak of. There didn’t need to be. Work here was tough, but at least there was no need to get mixed up in such complications.
Every encounter was transactional, as it should be. That was the simple rule of this place, and it was also a doctrine that guided the courtesans’ lives.
But after that night, Rancui knew he was already past the point of no return.
“Cui’er! if you can’t get over this heartbreak, you could turn your sorrow into anger instead!” Lifting her tear-streaked face all of a sudden, Yu-jiejie punched the air, mimicking the martial artists who occasionally paid a visit to this area. She even had a stash of martial arts manuals that she received as gifts, but of course, only Rancui knew where they were hidden.
Rancui’s eyes widened in surprise from her epiphany. Looking at her dramatic stance, he could not help but break out into soft laughter from her self-satisfied expression.
Her suggestion sounded ridiculous, but there was some logical reason to it that made Rancui contemplate her words. He had already waited for so long to no avail, and this whole time, he had been falling behind on his job and failing to meet the brothel owner’s expectations. If he could channel that sadness into hate—an emotion that could fuel him intensely, rather than another that would only hinder his progress in life—wouldn’t that be the most ideal outcome at present?
Rancui had to reclaim some of his dignity. After all, once upon a time, he had been the jewel the owner had so conscientiously cultivated. Now he was just a disappointment—a worthless piece of stone after he had granted his first night to the highest bidder of the auction.
All because he ended up giving his heart away as well.
But when Rancui saw Hei’er again, all his earlier determination and grit crumbled into pieces without warning.
Rancui took one last look at the hairpin he had always kept with his treasured personal belongings, then shut the box despondently, watching as Hei’er’s silhouette disappeared into the distance with the rest of Guan Shanjin’s entourage.
…It seemed he really had to toughen up his outer shell. At the end of the day, only a solid exterior with impenetrable defenses could conceal his fragile soul.