❤ four times my muse says they don’t love yours, and the one time they admit it. || @zhongghua
i. Overgrown grass tickled Elizabeth’s ankles as she sat book in lap under the blossoming magnolia tree – though she had become distracted from the pages’ story, unable to tear her eyes away from the woman in the red robe who stood mere metres away from Elizabeth and the tree. She was speaking with someone, assumed to be someone important, not paying a mind to the woman at the base of the magnolia tree staring up at her in some kind of awe, adoring the fact that Xingjuan was completely unaware of the blossoms falling in her hair.
A woman you love with flowers in her hair is a sight to marvel.
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat; no, you don’t love her.
ii. Thoughts under the magnolia scared her, and Elizabeth had avoided the same tree and the book that sat in her lap was now stuffed out of sight under her guest bed in hopes to forget, as if the romantic genre had been what caused such a ludacrious thought to invade Elizabeth’s mind and plague her with that terrible feeling in her chest. Now she sat at the very end of a banquet table, not quite plucking up the courage to make conversation in shaky Mandarin and instead brooded over the conflict between her mind and heart. The mind was winning – the mind had won until Elizabeth made the mistake of looking up and caught Xingjuan mid-laugh, a split second of joy that caused the heart’s second breakdown.
You can’t love her.
iii. A week had now passed since the incident under the magnolia tree and Elizabeth only had another 7 days to go before she was to sail back to England and could deal with whatever in God’s name she was currently surpressing. However the silence of the night made any unwelcome thoughts nearly impossible to ignore as her body refused to fall asleep, so with a defeated sigh she slipped from under the silk sheets and carefully creeped out of her room’s door to the hallway.
And she didn’t mean to look, she’d insist that she tried not to look, but a glance into Xingjuan’s room quickly turned into a fixation, the moonlight spilling through the thin fabric of the curtains and drenched Xingjuan in a ethereal glow that Elizabeth couldn’t tear her eyes away from. She watched the other run a comb through long black hair before her gaze shyly drifted to the reflection of Xingjuan’s face – and as if she sensed Elizabeth gawking at her like a fool she opened her eyes and looked back at the blonde staring.
Xingjuan’s lips curled into a gilded smile as their eyes met in the mirror. “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
The ache in Elizabeth’s chest returned as she returned to her room in silence. You’re not in love with her …right?
iv. Oh she could just fall asleep, with the lake waters still and the sun sinking behind the surrounding mountains with birds singing in distant trees, she hadn’t been at such peace in a long time. Yet despite nature’s lullaby her eyes rebelled as they refused to stay closed, peaking one at a time to watch Xingjuan sat at the other end of the boat fixated on a text covered in Chinese characters, desperately wishing for herself to be doused in whatever content of the book so that she could hold Xingjuan’s gaze like so.
Freckling cheeks blushed at the thought.
Eyebrows furrowed as she tried to keep her eyes closed, embarrassed by her line of thought and hoping to solve the problem by hiding away behind her eyelids. Though perhaps she was more embarrassed that she shut out any voice that came from her heart and not her head knowing she was inexperienced and afraid, but that wasn’t a possibility she wanted to consider in that moment because it would mean that there was a chance that the heart was right and she didn’t know how to protect herself.
The heart whispered; you know you love her.
❤. A cowardly exit, the usual heartfelt yet somewhat formal goodbye replaced with a slip out of the door 2 hours earlier than scheduled, hurried goodbyes given to Chinese officials after Elizabeth swayed her country’s men to get on board in a hurry – she gave no reason but perhaps the homesickness had set in and the men needed no convincing to sail back for home. They were just waiting on her now, about to leave for the docks when she had a change of heart on the goodbye letter and single rose she’d left on Xingjuan’s bed.
Once she’d quickly excused herself and stumbled in poor Mandarin about forgetting something, she scuttled back to where she had stayed and with a glance over her shoulder she darted into Xingjuan’s room, locking eyes on the letter that contained a spill of made-up excuses and half coherent feelings and grabbed it without a jolt of hesitation. As she tore the papers into smaller and more plentiful squares, she couldn’t quite decide if she was doing this out of cowardice or rationality – but there was no need to answer, the letter was in tatters all over Xingjuan’s silk sheets. She would deal with the mess of writing in a moment’s time – the solution for the vibrant rose was a lot simpler, and she took it in her shaking hands as she eyed the window knowing the bush with blooming red peonies nesting outside would hide it well enough. Before she could act on her oh so devious plan, a voice startled her.
“…Elizabeth?”
Whirling around, she saw a look of confusion strewn across Xingjuan’s face – and God she still looked as beautiful as ever – with her head cocked to the side, watching as Elizabeth’s cheeks began screaming pink before noticing the rose clutched in her hands so defensively. Her eyebrows furrowed as she patiently waited for an answer – anything, to explain Elizabeth’s uncharacteristic behaviour.
But Elizabeth just sighed. “I must leave,” She saw Xingjuan opening her mouth to speak, but she quickly cut her off. “– now. I apologise for the inconvience and the hurry – it is quite urgent. Farewell for now, Xingjuan.”
She considered saying it for a fraction of a second, but favoured the idea of not looking like a complete fool. Besides, actions are more precious than words.
So she handed a speechless, confused Xingjuan the red rose and left without another word.
Xingjuan felt her heart jump at the gift, but she did not dwell on implications as she saw a scatter of torn paper on her bed. She approached, looking down to inspect when she saw three words strung together in cursive English on a shred of paper.
The three words Xingjuan had been afraid to say to Elizabeth since her arrival.
The streets of Matantang, a small town in east China’s Anhui Province, were jammed with tens of thousands of people on Sunday morning, as they were seeing off senior students appearing for Gaokao or the college entrance exam that will kick off in two days.
Maotanchang, also known as “China’s largest Gaokao factory,” got the name from its “cram schools” that rigorously prepares students, who mostly come from other towns, to secure good grades so they can get admissions into prestigious universities across the country.
☠ four times my muse thought about hitting yours, and the one time they did
I. “Her voice is so grating. She’s so fucking snotty.”
The meeting wouldn’t be over for hours yet. Traffic had been heavy– and Wenqian had put a run in her tights within 5 minutes of scrambling out of her (shitty, rented) car. In all honestly, she was in no shape to be around a crowd of people.
But of course, how was Liz to know that? She had no fucking idea. Either way, she probably would have kept talking.
Under the table, Wenqian clenches her hand into a fist, cracking her knuckles.
II.But, meetings don’t last forever. Eventually she was out, her briefcase heavier than before and her mood worse off.
She barely noticed when Liz caught a glance of her disheveled appearance, and when she did, Wenqian had to stop herself from stepping forwards and smacking her.
That would make a scene, that’s not what she was there for. Quietly, she left.
III. Hours passed, and she calmed down. Still, as she lounged around her hotel room, she kept the idea of smacking Liz on her mind.
“It sure as hell would have felt good.” She mused, eyes closed as she took the mental image to heart. She felt as if she was owed at least that– to slap the other just a little, to get back at her for her snooty overconfidence, and to prove to herself that yes– She definitely could hit Elizabeth.
IV.The next time they see each other is at, funnily enough, a cornet store. Wenqian had flown in for the disastrous meeting a few days prior. They made eye contact, and Wenqian stood there, a small plastic bag filled with snacks in one hand.
“Oh– This time you left home looking presentable.”
Elizabeth’s tone is casual– almost nonthreatening, and it only makes Wenqian angrier. In two steps, the distance between them was cleared and Liz backed up a step or two.
Wenqian was fucking pissed.
Do something.Her hand connected with Liz’s cheek, whose glasses were knocked askew. Of course, people nearby stared, but it didn’t bother.
“Shut your fucking mouth!” She snapped, exhaling sharply before turning on her heel, and leaving.
Wenqian had done it–finally she’d had enough, and she didn’t bother to think if that was going to bite her in the ass one day.
★ four times my muse though yours looked breath-taking, and the one time they voice it
I.A stranger had arrived. Porcelain skinned, with wide eyes and a young face– and Xìngjuan had never seen anyone like her. Of course, she was suspicious, but she was still kind. She invited this stranger into her home, and fixed her tea while the men that had come with her spoke with her brother and his council.
They didn’t make much conversation– there was really no way they could have– Xingjuan was barely able to convey “tea?” without having a servant bring in the kettle itself.
But god. Whoever this stranger was, she was gorgeous.
II. Days later, Xingjuan found out her elusive guests name-- it was Elizabeth. She was quiet, but that didn’t stop her from approaching her with a translator of sorts-- and she tried to strike up a small polite conversation.
The last thing she told her (with the young man’s help, of course) was that the dress Elizabeth had one was fitting of her-- and with a small smile she bowed and took off, thinking to herself that she would try to learn English herself, so no one else would have to interpret her words for her.
III. Years passed. Xingjuan and Elizabeth grew closer-- they started exchanging letters and awaiting visits that were too far apart and not nearly long enough.
Xingjuan had been at sea for moths. She hadn’t been so far away from home in decades, but she wasn’t nervous-- excitement made her heart flutter like a bird in her chest, and as soon as they hit land, it didn’t take long for her to spot a carriage that waited for her and her convoy-- one that would take Xingjuan right to her.
When they saw each other again after all the months and years spent apart, the smaller woman nearly felt tears gather in her eyes as she embraced Elizabeth (as soon as she was able)
“God--” She thought. “Is this love?”
IV.The night was quiet. Two women lay, curled into each other and separated by silk gowns and petticoats. Xingjuan let her eyes flutter open, staring longingly at Elizabeth. Her features were soft, moonlight gently bouncing off of her, highlighting her cheekbones, her nose, her golden hair.
She was breathtaking.
Hesitantly, Xingjuan brushed a hand through Elizabeth’s hair, causing her company to stir.
Xingjuan’s breath was caught in her throat, and she knew what she needed to tell her.
Tell her.“我觉得你很漂亮 -- “
When she said it, she averted her gaze, too nervous to see if Elizabeth’s eyes had opened or not. Xingjuan laced their fingers together, palms pressed together and her thumb gently rubbed the side of Elizabeth’s hand.
“You’re stunning--”
She said it again, on the off-chance that Elizabeth was awake-- or at least if she could hear her. It was bold-- even though they were so close, she was almost afraid to be so forwards.
“I love you.” She mouthed, and relaxed, feigning sleep until the real thing came, knowing the morning would come for the two of them.
What it brang with it, she didn’t know. But, she wasn’t scared to face it.
☁ four times my muse has thought about yours, and the one time they do something about it.
I.
She can’t get her off her mind. Usually, thoughts of elizabeth are swirled with confusion, regret, but never hatred– a vile, nauseating mixture that leaves Wenqian with a headache and even a date with her liquor cabinet (if circumstances were dire.)
Why did we end up like this? What did we do to deserve that?
Of course, she can never answer the questions that come to her. She can only sit and wait for it to pass, or at least for it to fade again, back into the quiet corner of her mind where it’d been banished to begin with.
II.
Did she ever really love me? Were we really what I thought we were?
The sunset was dying down, melting into the colors of night when the thought came to her. It made her pulse quicken– a small lump rose to her throat and she swallowed it. There was no use in dwelling on the past, and she knew that better than anyone.
She set down her glass and set off to bed.
III.
Wenqian felt pathetic. Unable to distance herself from her troubles, she sat awake, sleep clouding her eyes, but it never worked its way into her head, her thoughts already thick and lazy, too abstract to really be called coherent.
She knows she should be long over this. It was centuries ago, but she recalls a smell of sweet perfume, the feeling of smooth paper and the sight of elegant penmanship, and she succumbs to memory.
Was I ever good enough for her? Was I ever enough? I wasn’t, was I?
In an hour or so, Wenqian’s eyes flutter shut.
IV.
In her dreams, they’re together again. Elizabeth’s hands are soft as they rest on her own, and Wenqain feels as if she’s at peace. The light is soft, hazy like a foggy morning, and all she can smell is the other woman’s perfume.
They don’t speak– wenqian looks up into the other’s eyes and she’s suddenly pulled in. The light is gone, and she’s alone, floating along in dark water, and one thing repeats over and over like a broken record.
We’re never going to be the same. We can’t be fixed. We can’t fix this.
And she knows it’s true.
do something about it.
When she wakes up, Wenqian’s breath smells like stale wine. It’s far too early– She’d been asleep for only a few hours. She could hear the thoughts her dream gave her, and she knew she had to do something.
Of course, she knew that Elizabeth hadn’t been on good terms with her since their youth. She knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. But she had to do something. Anything.
She couldn’t keep her constantly on her brain. She couldn’t deal with the ache in her chest and the odd, almost halfhearted, embarrassed heat behind the eyes that it brought her, like a shitty, unwanted gift that no one asked for.
So, she pulls out her phone. The harsh light of the screen stings her eyes before they adjust, and she starts to type.
[TEXT: Elizabeth Kirkland] Please meet with me, I need to talk to you as soon as you’re available. There are some things I need to ask you. [DELIVERED]
Traditional Chinese hairpin, 宫花gōng huā(court flower) in Palace Museum, Beijing. Gonghua is a kind of 簪花zān huā (flower hairpin) made of various delicate silks by the court craftsman in ancient china. They can also be called 绢花juanhua or 绒花ronghua. See Part 1. Cao Xueqin mentions them in Dream of the Red Chamber. Previous post of royal hairpins.
annaxmalina
titsay
