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In the midst of a serene evening, when dusk brushed the sky in orange and pink hues, two men were quietly resting at an inn near the outskirts of the Central Plains. Through the wide window, the chilly wind was tenderly making its presence known by whisking a few petals from a tree into their private space. However, undisturbed by their surroundings, the couple could acknowledge each other's presence alone.
One of them was sitting with his back straight, hands busy pouring herbs into the tiny porcelain pot on the table. His movements graced an air of elegance and fragility, his body was relaxed, and his mind was enthralled with the task at hand. Next to him, there laid his companion, toying with some sweets he had purchased on a whim. The man, Yan Wushi, placed a sweet in his mouth, savoured it with his tongue, and contemplated the beauty that was Shen Qiao.
‘Clouds float like works of art,
Stars shoot with grief at heart.’
A mere few hours ago, Shen Qiao had been absorbed in the classics when he was interrupted by Yan Wushi, now idly lounging by his side with his head on his lap. The closer they were to reaching their final destination, Linchuan Academy, the more erratic Yan Wushi’s behaviour was. His partner would either be in a bad mood and seek entertainment at others’ expense, or be in a ‘gracious’ mood and seek entertainment at Shen Qiao's expense.
Today, his partner was in a rather lenient mood as he grabbed Shen Qiao’s sleeve and pulled it until he yielded to Yan Wushi's urge to wander about the market stalls. They saw locals offering books, fresh food, toys, and many more items, so Yan Wushi had made it a point to check out most of them while Yin Chuan tailed along. Only when Yan Wushi grew bored did he swan Shen Qiao back to the inn with the excuse of tasting the purchased delicacies.
Back at the inn, Shen Qiao offered to brew some of the recently-acquired tea as they discussed the latest political developments. Bian Yianmei had sent a report and Yan Wushi had insisted upon weighing the odds at play. While exchanging their views, Yan Wushi kept an eye on Shen Qiao’s movements as the leaves reached their boiling point to avoid yet another bitter infusion. Shen Qiao wouldn’t have minded if his partner were to do it, but Yan Wushi had been adamant.
‘This Venerable One wants to have some of Shen-daozhang’s warm drink,’ he declared, words implying more than Shen Qiao could bother untangling.
Left with no other option, Shen Qiao reached towards the teapot, remembering when Yan Wushi had teased him over the particular taste of his ‘tea’. When he was about to reach for the cups on the table, however, he was asked a rather unusual question.
‘A-Qiao, would you let him include you in a painting when we meet him?’
Him?
Thwarted by the sudden topic change, Shen Qiao had to halt in his tracks to muse about who ‘he’ might be. His mind otherwise occupied, Shen Qiao didn’t notice the sweet scent of the herbs coming from the pot, promising a pleasant drink.
Steam still waltzing about, there flooded the memories of his fight against a reluctant Xie Xiang and his friend, Zhan Ziqian, who they were going to present Yin Chuan to as a possible disciple. However, the memories didn’t stop there. Like a winding river, strong waves of memories of fights and friendships also struck him forcefully.
It all happened so long ago…
At the time, Zhan Ziqian had pleaded for him to be his model, but Shen Qiao had politely declined the offer despite the painter’s insistence. Now on their way to present him with a potential disciple, it was true that the invitation could be extended once more. He wasn’t entirely certain as to how Yan Wushi had caught wind of this, but he reckoned that his web of spies had been involved.
‘Why is Yan-zongzhu asking?’
‘If A-Qiao were to be asked again, would you agree?’ question blatantly dismissed, Yan Wushi repeated himself. Even when his tone was conveying a nonchalance, after years of travelling together, Shen Qiao could discern it fake. Resigned to play along, Shen Qiao pondered about it as he resumed the tea making process.
When the proposal was first pushed forward, he had felt amused by the prospect of being painted because of some ‘resemblance to an immortal being,’ and even now the feeling remained. He was honoured, but not interested. Yan Wushi had noticed the mirth in his expression, but he didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it if his frown was any indication.
Shen Qiao shook his head and finally poured the tea, which was a little mild in temperature by now. ‘This humble daoist is grateful, but not worthy of the honour.’
‘Oh? Why not? I think you should, it would be a valuable portrait.’ Yan Wushi grabbed a cup before Shen Qiao could offer it to him, and reached out to play with Shen Qiao’s other hand, ‘A-Qiao’s portrait would make a beautiful sight to behold.’
‘...’
Shen Qiao couldn’t help being suspicious of this amiable attitude. Why was Yan Wushi unrelenting in insisting that he got a painting of himself?
‘Besides, as a patron of the arts, it’s only natural to commission a talented artist to frame the pure beauty of Shen-daozhang.’
‘Yan-zhongzhu is too kind. This humble daoist would never claim to be at the height of such compliments. There’s no need to waste Yan-zongzhu’s time nor money with this.’
‘Oh, but you’re wrong. Huanyue Sect is not short of money and I think it’d be a great investment.’
‘...’
You just want to have fun, don’t you?
Shen Qiao rolled his eyes internally; even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be so straightforward. As such, he was left with no other option but to bear with it.
‘In that case, why doesn’t Yan-zongzhu ask him to paint you if the commission expenses are not a problem?’
‘Oh? Is the high and mighty Shen-zhangjiao suggesting that this Venerable One is beautiful?’
‘I was just thinking of the high fees he might charge, that is all.’ he attempted to divert the attention away from that question.
‘Oh my, oh my, my A-Qiao is so bold!’ dashing away the obvious snide remark, Yan Wushi gloated. ‘It’s a good thing you promised to take responsibility, otherwise this Venerable One would think you’re trying to toy with me!’
‘I wasn’t saying that!’ Even for someone with Shen Qiao’s calm disposition, there were times in which Yan Wushi’s prodding went a little too far for him to remain stoic.
‘So you don’t think I’m good looking?’
‘...I didn’t say that,’ his tone of voice was a dead giveaway regarding his feelings on Yan Wushi’s handsome looks.
‘A-Qiao~’ pinching his cheek, Yan Wushi whispered into his ear, ‘this Venerable One wants to have something to remember my dearest Shen-lang by at all times, especially at night. Won’t you indulge me?’
‘Y-You-!’
Such a shameless man! How could he say such an embarrassing thing while he’s drinking tea?! Fuming, Shen Qiao had a mind to show him how dangerous it was to play with hot tea. However… he wasn’t wrong. Once they reach the Central Plains, he’ll need to head straight for Mount Xuandu, and Yan Wushi mentioned having business to attend to as well, but he wouldn’t say where. They’d been travelling together for so long, yet not long enough…
‘...fin- Hmph!!’ Before he could finish, a sweet was suddenly forced into his mouth. He coughed once but then nibbled it; the steamed cake was delicious.
‘How is it? Good?’
Having had his way, Yan Wushi went back to eating his food and drinking tea while Shen Qiao could only sigh at his partner’s antics…
The next morning, Shen Qiao strirred to the chirps of birds as he woke up wrapped in tender, harmonious peace. Little by little, he took the time to breathe in the dry air of the early autumn day, listen to the quiet peace inside their room, and stretch his arm, seeking out his partner. When his hand was met with cold sheets, he frowned. Yan Wushi would often wait for him to wake up by distracting himself with some light reading, but nowadays he'd grab a scroll and take it to their bed. Why was it cold then?
Willing his eyes to open despite his fogginess, Shen Qiao found the missing man resting with his back leaning on the window, a canvas in one hand and a brush in the other.
‘Yan-zongzhu?’
‘Well? Why are you not staying still?’
‘Didn’t you say...?’ that Zhan Ziqian was to paint him? Why are you sitting there to do it yourself so early in the morning?
‘Mmm? Were you thinking of someone else? Tsk, tsk, A-Qiao, you wound me! Is this Venerable One not talented enough to paint you himself?’
Shen Qiao willed a frown away as he bit back, ‘This humble daoist apologises for not keeping up with the jumbled changes of the weather.’
Of course he wouldn’t have let anyone else paint him. Of course he’d use this opportunity as an excuse to do as he pleases… At this point, he should’ve known better, but he was well-aware that there was no way out of this situation. Regardless… Shen Qiao was so endeared by this that a spark inside him flickered, still timid enough to ignite into a fire. He was tempted to snatch the canvas for himself and paint this man upon it, but alas, his face was too thin.
‘A-Qiao, you really believe I’d let another person see you like this?’
Even in his drowsiness, Shen Qiao noticed that Yan Wushi’s usual glint of mischief was missing. In its place was a predatory, dangerous look, but he still entrusted himself to him as Yan Wushi walked towards him, placing his hands on his shoulders, coaxing him to lie back again and stay still.
‘Fine.’ he mumbled.
Those hands moved to his chin, pulling it up, and there suddenly spread a velvet-like touch on his lips.
‘...you- you’re really something else.’
‘Is A-Qiao not going to smile for me?’
‘...’
Yan Wushi’s lips pulled away even when Shen Qiao tried to follow them, causing Yan Wushi to chuckle. ‘Don’t be mad…’
After those words, their lips joined once more. Lost in the warmth of their kiss, he almost didn’t notice a sweet flavour breaching his tongue.
‘This is…’
‘This Venerable One went and got you your favourite. So? Aren’t you grateful? Here, let me feed you more.’
Truth be told, it had been a while since he last ate osmanthus sweets —or any dessert for that matter— and he had longed for them at times, but never once did he follow suit on his cravings. Partly moved and only slightly exasperated, Shen Qiao smiled and extended his hand.
‘Yan-zongzhu doesn’t need to bother. This poor one can eat without help,’ he said. But I don’t want to, his eyes implored as they connected with Yan Wushi’s own.
Those eyes… Before Yan Wushi, he'd never been stared at like this —not with the eyes of a painter— but with awe and love, respect and acknowledgement. As Yan Wushi went back to his canvas, he looked frustrated, as if he couldn't pour Shen Qiao's essence into the portrait. That was only natural, he thought.
Part of his essence couldn't be grasped because it belonged to Yan Wushi. It had been given away willingly, and without that, the portrait would never be fully completed. When it was finished, Shen Qiao didn’t ask to see it, and Yan Wushi didn’t offer to show it.
There was something private and raw in it, something Yan Wushi wanted to keep to himself —a vulnerable part of himself he felt frustrated with, but knew that Shen Qiao had accepted, loved even.
They were reaching their destination and along with it, an impending separation after many months of basking in each other's arms at night. When Yan Wushi put the canvas away, Shen Qiao stretched his arms to call for him and to hold his cheeks between his hands.
Have you realised, Yan-lang?
For all your schemes and foresight, can't you see that I've given it all to you?
Pulling Yan Wushi's thoughts away from the canvas, Shen Qiao kisses his lips, hoping to convey his feelings. He knew he couldn't promise longevity, but right now, he was here; he wanted to always be here.
I'm yours.
I'll always be with you.
‘If love between both sides can last for aye,
Why need they stay together night and day?’ [1]
[1] Poem 作 者： 秦 观 (Zuò zhĕ: Qín guān), Translated by: Xu. Yuanchong.
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