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duologies · 6 months ago

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the long awaited huanglan romance arc! this is kind of long, clocking in at 7454 words. hope it's an enjoyable ride ☆⌒(>。<)

For several long, agonizing months, Huang Yuanfei had been nursing a budding attraction to Yue Qinglan. He did not have a solid idea as to when or how these feelings began to take root–perhaps they had slowly crept in, steadily burrowing into his heart. Perhaps it was inevitable. The two of them were very good friends, after all, and when one spends a significant portion of their life with very few friends, then forming such an attachment is not so surprising.

The agony, then, came from fear of upsetting the current balance. Their friendship had a comfortable and easy quality to it. Often, Huang Yuanfei found himself leaning on Yue Qinglan in a way that he didn’t with anyone else, save for Jiang Yinglian. Initially the feeling was troubling–he was unaccustomed to relying on someone else to this degree–but eventually he found that having a trustworthy companion by his side was a very welcome change. It felt good to know that there was always someone he could trust and come back to.

Perhaps if the object of his affection were someone else, he would not have this dilemma. He knew that this stalemate benefitted no one. However, a not-insignificant part of him desperately, foolishly wished that he didn’t have to endure this dance, that he could use implication as he always did. But that was impossible. The only choices he had were to keep silent or to be honest. The latter, he decided, was better.

Devising the best method of confession proved to be much more difficult than he had anticipated. There were multiple factors to take into account: the location, the weather, the time, what he would say and how he would say it. To ensure that everything was as auspicious and favourable as possible, he bit down his pride and sought counsel from all the trusted sources he could find. He even reached into the back crevices of his memory for divination knowledge tucked away long ago.

After several sleepless nights, he decided to finally make his first move. Everything had been meticulously arranged. In the morning, he would ask Yue Qinglan if he had any plans for the day and subtly steer him towards herb picking, an activity that gave them space together, and that Yue Qinglan enjoyed. Once they had arrived, they would gather herbs for some time and slowly ease into the motions; it was crucial that there was no rush. Then they would go to a particular spot–he had been sure to choose somewhere appropriately scenic–where he would profess his love with grandeur. It was the perfect plan.

But despite his plans, he still felt a terrible, potent mix of anxiety, apprehension, and dread. It was a poison that seeped into his bones and refused to let go. He despised this fear–it made him feel powerless, something he hadn’t been in a very long time. No matter what, he could not hope to control the outcome. Of course, he did not want that control, but the feeling remained. He could only hope for the best.

That night, when he went to bed, he hoped it would be the last time he would go without sleep for a long while.

He found Yue Qinglan writing in his study. He was perched on a zhizhong in a half kneeling, half sitting position. All was tranquil and still; the only sounds were birdsong just outside the window and the occasional shuffle of paper. Soft, midmorning sunlight filled the study with a comfortable warmth. Trees rustled quietly outside, casting dappled shadows that danced around the desk. Huang Yuanfei watched from the doorway, the door slightly ajar, as Yue Qinglan started a new line of characters; each stroke was put to the paper in one fluid motion, like flowing water. He watched Yue Qinglan’s expression–he looked so relaxed, and the pale morning sun cast him a glowing aura that made him appear unearthly. He almost lost his nerve then, but he forced himself to blaze ahead.

He knocked lightly on the door. “A-Lan, may I come in?”

“Hm?” There was a pause–Yue Qinglan had likely set his brush down–before he answered, “Please enter.”

Huang Yuanfei composed himself, pushed the door open, and sauntered in. He unfolded his fan and started slowly wafting it back and forth, in the hopes that it would help him appear more casual. He walked over to Yue Qinglan’s desk and sat down, legs crossed, on the opposite side so that they faced each other. Then, still fanning himself with his right hand, Huang Yuanfei leaned forward and propped his cheek on his left.

“A-Lan, what are you doing?” he asked cheerfully.

Yue Qinglan picked up his brush again. “Practicing calligraphy.”

“What are you writing this time?”

“A poem I had read long ago and recently rediscovered. It’s a short piece written by a former civil official who had been banished to a peripheral province. The subject is his pet cat.”

Huang Yuanfei laughed. “It’s just like you to choose this sort of poem. Feels like your style.” He gestured to the characters on the paper. “Do you have a favourite part?”

Yue Qinglan made a humming noise. “There isn’t a specific passage or line that stands out. The entire poem interests me. The many emotions packed in such a sparse number of lines is quite poignant. In the beginning there is sorrow, where the official laments his exile; in the middle is surprise upon finding the cat; and at the end is a growing fondness between owner and pet.” He smiled, then added, “You know, it somewhat reminds me of us.”

“I presume that I am the cat, then?”

“You do act remarkably similar to one.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Yue Qinglan’s smile grew. He asked knowingly, “Was there something else? You look like you have more to say.”

As expected of his partner. They could read each other so well at this point that it was a wonder Huang Yuanfei’s feelings hadn’t been discovered yet. He wasn’t sure whether this was a blessing in disguise or a cruel trick the universe was playing on him.

He returned the smile. “I was wondering if you had any plans for today.”

“I don’t. Does A-Fei have something in mind?”

“Perhaps. You mentioned that you needed to replenish your supplies a little bit ago.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Yue Qinglan raised an eyebrow. “But what’s with the sudden interest? You usually don’t like coming with me on these trips.”

“Well, maybe I’m just bored enough.”

“If you’re so bored, why don’t we leave now?” Yue Qinglan rose to his feet and walked out from behind his desk. “I wouldn’t want you scratching the furniture while I’m gone.”

Huang Yuanfei snapped his fan shut and put a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that I am a very well behaved cat.”

“That you are. Come on, let’s go.”

The cool mountain air washed over the pair in refreshing waves. As they walked through the lush grass, only a light breeze accompanied them. Plump white clouds shaded them from the sun; while their current altitude was relatively high, it was just low enough for cloud cover. The mountain offered a different sort of tranquil–here, secluded from the rest of the world, nothing could disturb them. Huang Yuanfei was starting to understand and appreciate the appeal of these trips. The companionable silence was relaxing.

Presently they were looking for ginseng, an ingredient that was used up very quickly due to both its culinary and medicinal uses. The wild variation typically grew on higher mountains in deep, soft, well-drained soil. Leafy green shoots differentiated the ginseng from the grass. Harvesting the root was a simple matter of taking the leafy section and gently wiggling it out from the earth. Each of them had a small basket to contain the gathered ginseng. Huang Yuanfei kept a careful eye on both their path and the content of the baskets–he needed to make sure that their baskets still had room before arriving at his chosen spot.

He glanced at Yue Qinglan, who was scanning the ground for leafy shoots nearby. He stopped looking for his own ginseng to study the minutiae of Yue Qinglan’s profile: first, his serene expression, which greatly resembled the countenances of scholars in paintings; the way his eyebrows lifted slightly upon finding the right herb; how his eyes narrowed in concentration while digging out the root; and finally his lips–but Huang Yuanfei didn’t let his gaze linger for very long before he looked away.

“A-Fei, I think we’ve gathered all the ginseng in the area,” Yue Qinglan called. “We can head home now.”

“Aiya, A-Lan, don’t be so hasty!” Huang Yuanfei lifted up his basket and gestured to it. “Our baskets still have room; I know where we can find more.”

He took off without another word, leaving Yue Qinglan with no choice but to follow. Their path led them higher up, winding from the quiet, clear field to a giant waterfall that crashed and roared with a ferocious intensity. They ducked under and behind the waterfall to a short passageway that opened up to a small earthen platform with a wooden fence overlooking a sea of treetops and mist. Huang Yuanfei stopped just before the platform’s edge, turned around to face Yue Qinglan, and beckoned for him to come closer.

“We’ll travel the rest of the way on cloud,” he said.

He climbed the little fence, stood on top, then casually stepped off it. For one exhilarating moment, he let himself fall before forming a cloud and ascending, breaking through the mist as he did so. Yue Qinglan came up next to him, eyebrow raised and hands folded in his sleeves. His eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Where are we going, exactly? This must be some high quality ginseng.”

“The very best.”

Steadily they rose until they reached Huang Yuanfei’s chosen summit. Huang Yuanfei landed first; he looked back to check that Yue Qinglan hadn’t fallen behind before continuing onwards. A short climb took them to the very top of the mountain. When they emerged from the stone confines of their path, they were greeted by a brilliant forest–smaller pillars of rock poked out of the clouds and mist like elegant towers. In the distance were a few more mountains, surrounding the spires in a formation similar to a ring.

Above, the sun blazed with red light, tinting the clouds a joyful orange. A wizened ginkgo tree with golden leaves swayed slowly in the wind. Huang Yuanfei went to stand underneath it and pretended to search the area for ginseng. Yue Qinglan joined him under the tree. Huang Yuanfei kept up the charade for a little longer before straightening up and getting Yue Qinglan’s attention.

“A-Lan,” he started, “I have something very important to tell you.”

Yue Qinglan straightened up as well. “What is it, A-Fei?”

But the confession died on the tip of his tongue. As he stood there, watching the golden leaves fall around Yue Qinglan, he found that his courage had fled him. His throat closed with nervousness. The silence stretched on, until at last Huang Yuanfei couldn’t stand it anymore and spoke.

“...There isn’t any ginseng here. I misremembered.”

Yue Qinglan blinked. “Oh. Then shall we head home?”

Huang Yuanfei inclined his head. “Yes. Let us depart.”

He tried to tamp down his embarrassment, frustration, and disappointment. All of his careful planning had gone to waste because he had let his anxiety get the better of him.

But he didn’t despair; there would be other opportunities. Courtship took time, after all, and he had all the time in the world.

◈◈◈

Thunder rumbled overhead. Sparks of lightning split the sky into a thousand flashing fragments, then resealed the cracks as quickly as they had been formed. Rain crashed down to the earth in fat drops that splattered on impact. The wind howled relentlessly.

Yue Qinglan and Huang Yuanfei huddled under an umbrella together as they braved the storm, looking for shelter. The umbrella did little to shield them from the piercing rain and biting wind; the pair were already drenched to the bone. Huang Yuanfei tried and failed to suppress a shiver. He had never fared well in the cold. The rain didn't help–it drove through his clothes, pelting his skin with merciless fury. His hair, once light and silky, had become a dead weight. He knew he looked wretched and despised it. The sooner they could get out of this damned rain, the better.

The storm had caught them by surprise. They had been tracking a weasel spirit when the torrential downpour started, forcing them to abandon their pursuit. No doubt the weasel spirit had escaped long ago, a fact that only frustrated Huang Yuanfei more. He glowered at their surroundings as he searched for something that could serve as shelter. Beside him, he felt Yue Qinglan’s arm shift as the umbrella moved. Yue Qinglan pointed at something in the distance with his free hand.

“A-Fei, look over there. I think that’s a house.”

He squinted. Ahead of them was a solitary building–it looked miserable and abandoned, ready to fall apart in the fierce winds. The thin roof seemed to barely keep the rain at bay, while the windows were on the verge of flying off. But they had no other choice; it was the only refuge from the storm.

“It’ll have to do,” he said glumly.

The abandoned house’s interior was cramped but surprisingly dry. Although the walls, roof, and windows rattled the way coughs wracked a dying man’s chest, they stood their ground. Near the entrance, at the opposite wall, was one bed that looked barely able to fit one person. A dining table large enough to seat approximately three people was set against the wall with the door. In the back, behind the common area, was a kitchen. The stove still had some old kindling, which Huang Yuanfei set ablaze with a snap of his fingers. He promptly sat down and began wringing out his hair. Yue Qinglan joined him by the fire, combing his fingers through his own hair.

It wasn’t long before the both of them had dried themselves off. Huang Yuanfei tossed his head to let his high ponytail swing outwards. He leaned back, supporting his weight with his hands. He sighed.

“I hate this weather. I hate getting this filthy.”

Yue Qinglan held his hands in front of the stove. He replied, “Mm. I can’t say I enjoy getting soaked either.”

Huang Yuanfei snickered. “I don’t think anyone does.” He straightened up, then turned to Yue Qinglan. “A-Lan, do you have any spare cloth? My makeup is ruined, and I look dreadful.”

Yue Qinglan rummaged around his qiankun pouch before producing a clean white cloth from its depths. “Here. You do look a little disheveled.”

“Thank you, A-Lan. I can always count on you to be prepared.”

An amused twinkle shone in Yue Qinglan’s eye. “Where would you be without me?”

Huang Yuanfei was struck speechless. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to answer that question–rather, he didn’t want to answer it. Imagining what his life would be like without Yue Qinglan was almost too easy: he would spend his days flitting around his teahouse and travelling with Jiang Yinglian. Of course, there was always the possibility that he’d meet some other person of interest, but he couldn’t guarantee that they would be his partner. Even if they did become good friends, it would be different. No two friendships were the same.

The simple answer was that without Yue Qinglan, he would be unfulfilled.

He considered confessing how he felt right then. He could reply to Yue Qinglan’s rhetorical question with a serious answer. He could be open, and vulnerable.

But he didn’t answer. He smiled lopsidedly instead, betraying no sign of his conflicting emotions. “It’s late. We should get some rest.”

Yue Qinglan made a humming noise in agreement. He uncrossed his legs to stand, walked to the bed, then started pulling aside the blankets. Huang Yuanfei pulled out his hairpins and loosed his hair as he followed. He tapped Yue Qinglan on the shoulder.

“A-Lan, let me help you with your hair while you prepare the bed.”

Yue Qinglan paused in his movements. Huang Yuanfei deftly removed the hairpin. He took a moment to run his hands through the ends of Yue Qinglan’s hair, gathering up the stray strands. His hair was smooth as silk, and he could smell the lingering, faint scent of jasmine tea. Combing it was oddly soothing; he was unwilling to let go.

“All done.”

“Thank you, A-Fei.”

“Of course.” He walked out from behind Yue Qinglan to give the bed a closer look. “How do you propose we divide our humble sleeping arrangements? This bed looks like it could hardly accommodate a child.”

“It’s not so bad. I’m sure the both of us can fit.”

“Are you quite sure? There must be some sort of mat in your qiankun pouch–one of us could sleep on the floor.”

“We’ll never know if we don’t try, A-Fei.”

He climbed onto the bed, shuffled inwards, and pulled up the covers. He patted the space next to him. Huang Yuanfei swallowed any further protests. If his friend was going to insist, then so be it. Reluctantly, he squeezed into the remaining half of the bed. His right arm was packed against Yue Qinglan’s left; their faces were close, too close for his comfort. He could easily trace the elegant curve of Yue Qinglan’s brow, the subtle slope to his eyes. He hastily turned away, flipping onto his side.

“The bed isn’t big enough for the both of us to lie on our backs,” he said. “If I sleep like this, then you will have more room.”

“Mm,” agreed Yue Qinglan. “You’re always very considerate.”

“Anything for my greatest friend.”

Yue Qinglan made an amused noise, a light puff of laughter. “Goodnight, A-Fei.”

“Goodnight, A-Lan.”

◈◈◈

Huang Yuanfei was cursed. He was sure of it.

A terrible weight had accumulated in his chest, constricting him from the inside. Breathing was agonizing–every intake of breath felt like a dozen daggers digging into his ribcage. His heartbeat became much heavier; every thud was sluggish, pounding against his head. Occasionally, when particularly agitated, he’d cough up a thick globule of blood, round as a pearl.

He bore the pain in silence–he told no one, not even Jiang Yinglian. He snuck medicinal powders–discreetly taken from Yue Qinglan’s stores–into the bowl of his pipe whenever he could, but he knew that was only a temporary solution. Besides soothing his pain, the medicine did little else. If he wanted to recover, then he would have to address the root of the problem.

If he wanted help, there was only one person he could turn to.

“A-Lan, I have a favour to ask of you.”

Yue Qinglan looked up from where he was sorting his drawers of medicinal and alchemical ingredients. “Yes? What is it, A-Fei?”

“I need you to help lift this curse on me.”

“What?” Yue Qinglan stood up in alarm. “When did you get cursed?”

Huang Yuanfei sighed. “I do not know.”

“That’s alright–we can determine that later. How do you feel?”

“My chest feels tight, and it hurts to breathe.” He decided to omit the detail about hacking up a mouthful of blood whenever his feelings reached their boiling point.

“Hm… A-Fei, give me your hand. I’d like to check your pulse.”

Huang Yuanfei pulled back his sleeve and obediently offered his hand. Yue Qinglan grasped his wrist and placed two fingers on the inner side. He released his hold after a moment.

“It’s not a curse.”

“Then what is it?”

“You’re suffering a qi imbalance, likely caused by suppressing emotion.”

Huang Yuanfei sank into a chair. A sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over him. He put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

“A-Lan, I’m dying. This is the end for me,” he bemoaned in what he hoped was his most pitiful tone.

“You’re not dying.” Yue Qinglan found another chair and sat down across from Huang Yuanfei. “You’re simply locking something away and not confronting it.” He paused, then asked gently, “Can’t you tell me what’s troubling you?”

He was very tempted to be straightforward, to finally open the dam he had built in his mind. He had been hiding his affection for his friend for so long that the secret felt like a part of him, inseparable and immovable.

But he couldn’t. Not like this.

He opened his eyes, straightened up, and smiled. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle. Besides, I’ve been availing myself of your medicine.” He took out his pipe and dropped a pill into its bowl with a flourish before putting the pipe to his mouth and inhaling deeply. The action sent a thousand splinters driving into his ribs, but his face remained a smiling mask.

Yue Qinglan’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not the right kind.” He rose from his chair and walked to his drawers. He opened one near the top, found the right medicine, then returned to his seat. He opened his hand to reveal several round pellets made of a deep jade-green substance. “Take one of these every day until the symptoms subside.”

Huang Yuanfei scooped the pellets into his hand. “Thank you, A-Lan.”

“It’s not a permanent solution.” Yue Qinglan was watching him, gaze searching. “These pills will help your body readjust its qi, but the rest of the recovery process is up to you. Whatever it is that’s weighing on your mind, you have to face it.”

“...I know.”

In the privacy of his own room, Huang Yuanfei stood over his washbasin, hands white-knuckled as he gripped the sides. A wet cough wracked his upper body, causing him to hunch his shoulders as agony slashed at him like knives. For a long moment he kept coughing and coughing until at last he spat out blood, thick and dark. It appeared almost black in the light of the lanterns. He stared at the wad of blood with a distant look of disgust before washing it away.

He tiredly walked to his bed and sat down. With a snap of his fingers, an array of different smoking pipes flew out of their storage spaces and laid themselves in neat rows before him, suspended in the air. His hand hovered over the spread as he made his decision. He selected an elegant–if plain–pipe made of dark wood and fitted with a mouthpiece fashioned from white jade. Once he had made his choice, he sent the rest of the pipes away with a wave before he carefully placed a jade-green pellet into his pipe’s bowl. Then he took an experimental puff. Immediately a cool, calming sensation flowed down into his chest and settled there; it was a comforting presence. He breathed a sigh of relief and fell back onto his bed in a heap. He was utterly drained.

The medicine helped him clear his mind and relax in a way he hadn’t for far too long; as his body loosened, he considered his options. He couldn’t keep his attraction hidden for much longer–the adverse effects on his health had made that abundantly obvious. Neither careful planning nor spontaneous action had served him well. There had been a myriad of opportunities open to him over the past several months, and he had not taken any of them. Each time he had let the moment pass; his fear and anxiety strangled the words and wrestled them back behind his tongue, trapped unspoken in his throat. The thought of making one of his closest friends uncomfortable with his advances or driving a wedge between them paralyzed him.

Then it occurred to him: he had been using the wrong approach. Instead of a grand confession, he should have an honest discussion with Yue Qinglan. He had been so concerned with crafting the perfect spectacle, with the need to impress, that he had overlooked the simplest route. He sat up, energy renewed. A nearly feverish joy seized him, but he remained composed; the only indication of his newfound delight were the animals made of pipe smoke dancing around his room.

Soon, he decided. When he recovered, it would be time for a proper conversation.

◈◈◈

The familiar sounds of birdsong dragged Huang Yuanfei to the waking world, as if the birds were telling him to hurry up and get out of bed. Early morning sunlight filtered through the closed paper windows and softly illuminated the whole room. Huang Yuanfei buried himself deeper under the covers–he didn’t want to get up just yet. He allowed himself a few more moments in his nest of blankets before begrudgingly rolling out, swinging his legs to place his feet on the ground. He stood up, stretched his arms upwards, then walked to his vanity mirror. His hair was a frightful mess: it spilled wildly outwards and stuck up every which way. Taming it came first.

The rest of his routine was completed with relative ease. After his eyeshadow and false mole had been applied, he got dressed. The weather had grown warmer, so he selected a set of lighter clothes. Instead of his usual red, this set was a deep sunset orange-red that faded into a subtler shade at the hems and sleeves. He admired his reflection in the full-body mirror by his wardrobe. After he finished ensuring that his appearance was sufficiently lovely, he slipped Ruihan out from under his pillow and left his room.

Breakfast had already been prepared and set on the dining table by the time he arrived. Yue Qinglan and Ling Tiehua sat at the table, waiting. Ling Tiehua’s face brightened with anticipation when she saw him.

“Lan-ge, Lao Feng’s here! Let’s eat.”

Huang Yuanfei took a seat. “Good morning to you too, Xiao Hu.”

“Good morning.” She ate a spoonful of rice before noting, “You seem to be in a good mood today.”

Huang Yuanfei only hummed absently in response. It was true that an unusual excitement bubbled within him, sending nervous tingles through his limbs. Today was the day he would sit down with Yue Qinglan, one on one, and stop running from his feelings.

“I have important business to attend to at the teahouse; that’s all.”

Ling Tiehua gave him a look, but didn’t say anything more.

Yue Qinglan spoke up. “Actually, A-Fei, there’s a case that requires our immediate attention.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“A wolf yao has started preying on a nearby village’s livestock. Some reports claim that it has started attacking the villagers as well.”

“Mm, that’s easy. If we leave after breakfast, I am confident we shall return before lunch.”

“After breakfast, then.”

Ling Tiehua watched their exchange with open curiosity. “Sounds like you two have it covered. Don’t be back too late.”

“A-Lan, you know I hate travelling on horseback. Must we use the slow method?”

Yue Qinglan smiled good-naturedly. “Arriving by cloud is faster, yes, but it’s better for both us and the ordinary people if we travel in a way that they’re used to. We want to appear at least somewhat approachable.”

Huang Yuanfei sighed dramatically. “Interacting with mortals is so much more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Sometimes it is frustrating, but we must be patient all the same.”

“I’m starting to think you just like horses.”

“I do. But that’s not my point.”

As they rode, they saw little brown dots pop up against the horizon. They came to a crest in the path that offered them a wide, sweeping view of the entire village. Huang Yuanfei pulled his horse to a stop at the top of the crest. Yue Qinglan stopped beside him and waited.

Huang Yuanfei looked over to Yue Qinglan. After a somewhat hesitant pause, he said, “A-Lan, after we finish our business here, there is something very important that I must tell you.”

“Alright. But are you sure it can wait?”

“We’ll be finished here momentarily. It can wait.”

It was already dark by the time they had arrived. Yue Qinglan and Huang Yuanfei stopped at the village’s entrance, where a watchman was sitting, fast asleep. Huang Yuanfei waited for a moment before calling out in a friendly tone, “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

The watchman startled awake. “What–it’s morning already?”

Yue Qinglan answered, “No, it’s still nighttime.”

The watchman sighed in relief, before standing up and peering at the pair, eyes squinted with suspicion. “What do you two want? You’re not locals.”

“An astute observation, my friend,” said Huang Yuanfei. “We are here to offer our services to this village. There is a wolf yao plaguing you, is there not?”

“Oh, so you’re here about that.” The watchman scratched his head. “About time somebody came to deal with it. I don’t know how much longer we can hold out like this.”

“Don’t worry; we will help you,” Yue Qinglan reassured.

“That’d be greatly appreciated, Daozhang.” The watchman appeared thoughtful as he added, “I suppose you’ll need a place to stay. Follow me, young masters.”

He entered the village through the main gates and beckoned for the pair to follow. They dismounted their horses and trailed behind on foot. The winding streets–which were less properly paved streets and more dirt paths–were just large enough to allow the party of men and horses to pass through. After several minutes of wandering through the labyrinth of nearly identical houses, the group came to a stop at a house in the less packed sector of the village. The watchman bid the pair goodnight and waved at them before making his way back to his post.

Their accommodation was a humble little house made from a handsome, dark red wood that had once been vibrant, but since then had faded with dust, sun exposure, and age. The thatched roof was battered but sturdy. A string of lanterns dangled merrily under the eaves of the roof outside the front door. The windows were slightly ajar to let in the evening breeze.

Yue Qinglan stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door. A moment later, it swung inwards to reveal an older woman; she looked around curiously before her gaze landed on the pair. Her eyes scanned them, sizing them up. She cocked her hand on her hip.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Here was the perfect opportunity to put charm and good looks to use. Huang Yuanfei flashed her a radiant smile. He said sweetly, “Good evening. We are cultivators, here to lend our aid to your pleasant village. The watchman was kind enough to lead us here to your beautiful home so that we may stay for a short while–if that is not too much trouble, of course.”

The woman relaxed somewhat. “So you’re here to deal with that wolf, are you? I’m sorry about my attitude just now; we’ve all been a little on edge.” She gestured for them to come inside. “We have a small yard in the back; you can rest your horses there.”

“Do you live with your family?” asked Yue Qinglan.

“Yes; a son. He can take your horses.” She yelled into the house, “Yi’er! We have guests!”

There was a brief thudding of slippered feet against wooden floorboards before a young man arrived at the doorway. He appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age, and he had a somewhat sullen expression on his face. His sullenness morphed into curiosity when he saw two cultivators at the door. His eyes almost immediately darted to Ruihan at Huang Yuanfei’s side.

Huang Yuanfei was a little impressed; this boy seemed quite sharp. He took the reins of both his and Yue Qinglan’s horses and offered them to Yi’er. “I place our horses in your capable hands.”

Then, following the woman, he and Yue Qinglan stepped over the threshold.

The interior boasted a relatively spacious centre hall, at the end of which was an ancestral shrine. On each side of the hall, nearer to the shrine, was a bedroom. The kitchen and dining room were to the right, while the living room and a room containing a fire pit was to the left. Both bedrooms were already occupied by the original residents of the house, so Yue Qinglan and Huang Yuanfei were given the living room to sleep in.

After a meager dinner of rice porridge, stir-fried cabbage, and sliced chicken, the pair retired to their temporary quarters to discuss their plans. Huang Yuanfei lounged on a sleeping mat on the floor, while Yue Qinglan sat on his mat, legs crossed.

“This should be quite simple,” Huang Yuanfei said. “The wolf hunts at night and isn't too careful about the prey it chooses. We’ll lure it out to an advantageous location and trap it there.”

“With what bait? I don't think the villagers are willing to sacrifice any more livestock,” replied Yue Qinglan.

“Not to worry, A-Lan. I have a solution: we’ll use my horse.”

“You really hate horses, don't you?”

Huang Yuanfei clicked his tongue. “I do not. I assure you, nothing will happen to the horse, because I will be the one riding it.”

“So you intend to taunt the wolf yao and keep its attention on you while I set up a trap.”

“Precisely, A-Lan. I will disguise the horse as a goat and guide the wolf to you.”

Yue Qinglan thought for a moment, then said, “Mm. Be careful, A-Fei.”

“I will. Don't worry about me.”

The sun set lazily, sliding down the western side of the sky as if a drooping eyelid were slowly closing over it. Huang Yuanfei had returned to the house after making his part of the preparations: blocking off escape routes to engineer a path that he would lead the wolf yao on. He saw Yi’er sitting cross legged outside, whittling arrows. A longbow was placed on the ground beside him. Huang Yuanfei watched Yi’er’s deft knifework curiously.

“How is your marksmanship?”

Yi’er looked up, startled. “Um–pretty good, I guess.”

“How good? Show me.”

Yi’er grabbed his bow, stood up, then took a completed arrow and nocked it on the bowstring. He aimed carefully at a flying bird. Then he released the taut bowstring; the arrow whistled cleanly through the air and struck its target. Yi’er lowered his bow and looked at Huang Yuanfei, an undercurrent of pride running under his mostly serious expression.

Huang Yuanfei clasped his hands behind his back. “Excellent.”

Yi’er perked up. “So does that mean I can help?”

“I’m afraid not. This is dangerous work that you are wholly unequipped to handle. Stay at home and out of trouble.”

Then Huang Yuanfei left Yi’er behind, giving him no chance to retort.

As the moon reached its zenith, a young man wearing a cloak and a large bamboo hat covering his face dragged a reluctant horse with him to one of the wealthier households. He soothed the horse before performing a hand seal and transforming it into a plump white goat. The goat’s shiny white pelt appeared pearlescent in the ghostly moonlight. The young man smirked to himself. He looked up to the moon, tilting back his hat and revealing his characteristic mole and eyeshadow.

“So it begins,” Huang Yuanfei said to himself.

The remaining livestock had been evacuated; they were currently hidden on one of the hills not too far away from the village. The only prey that remained was the goat.

Now, all Huang Yuanfei had to do was wait; it was only a matter of time before the wolf reached his chosen house. He led the goat to the courtyard’s centre before retreating to a hiding spot. He idly flicked Ruihan’s bell as he watched the quiet courtyard for any signs of the wolf’s arrival. The night was still, as if the entire village was holding its breath.

Suddenly, there was a thump–the subtle sound of someone hopping from the roof of a house to the ground. Huang Yuanfei raised his head and saw someone dressed in black robes standing at the opposite end of the yard, hungrily eyeing the lone goat. He stepped out of his hiding place and unsheathed Ruihan.

“There you are,” he called. “I’m afraid you won't find any dinner tonight.” He whistled, and the goat ran over to him; as it ran, it changed back into its original form. In one smooth motion, he leaped onto the horse’s back and threw off his hat and cloak with no small amount of theatricality. “You shall have to deal with me.”

Enraged, the figure in black gave chase. Huang Yuanfei spurred his horse forward, rounding a sharp corner onto the predetermined path. When he turned back, he saw that his pursuer had transformed: a massive black wolf was hot on his heels. He sheathed Ruihan and grabbed the reins with both hands, urging the horse even faster. He wound through the labyrinthine village with lightning speed; the buildings became a blur as he shot past them. He turned down a final corner and burst into the village square. In the centre, he could see the array Yue Qinglan had drawn, its dull cinnabar like dried blood.

He slowed down to a brisk trot. As he got closer to the array, he continued to slow down, until the horse was pacing back and forth in front of it. He glanced up and saw Yue Qinglan on a nearby roof. With a wink, he turned his attention back to the square’s entrance. He didn’t have to wait long–the wolf bowled into the square after only a few moments.

But something was wrong. When he turned around, he saw that Yi’er had entered the square, standing behind the array with his bow drawn. To his credit, he did not waver upon seeing the wolf; his aim remained steady.

Before Huang Yuanfei could tell Yi’er to get out of danger, the wolf lunged at the boy. Left with no time, he urged his horse into the array to protect Yi’er.

In the ensuing rush, Yi’er released his arrow.

A dull thunk punctuated the air as the arrow pierced flesh.

Everything was deathly still; even time itself appeared to stop. No one dared to move. Then, unable to hold on any longer, Huang Yuanfei fell off his horse, the arrow buried in his chest.

Yue Qinglan was at his side in an instant. Slender arms wrapped around his shoulders and lifted him so that he was sitting up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yi’er run away, panicked. He glanced down at the arrow protruding from the spot just above his heart. He could feel his blood, sticky and warm, ooze out of his wound and pool under his clothes. He touched a hand to the wound and pulled it away to reveal bright crimson streaking his fingers. He looked into Yue Qinglan’s eyes, wide with horror.

“Oh,” he said faintly.

“A-Fei, try not to move too much. It will only make the injury worse,” said Yue Qinglan in a strained voice.

“Alright.” It was getting harder and harder to stay awake; darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, threatening to submerge him into unconsciousness. “But I have something I need to tell you. It can’t wait, not anymore.”

“You can tell me anything, A-Fei.”

“A-Lan,” Huang Yuanfei whispered, “I’m in love with you.”

Then his vision went black.

When he woke up, Huang Yuanfei found himself in his room. He blinked away the remaining sleep from his eyes and tried to sit up. Instantly, a flare of agony burst in his chest, forcing him to lie back down and wait for the pain to subside. Now he was aware of a constant dull ache that throbbed alongside his heartbeat. He felt under his clothes and found a thick layer of bandages.

On his bedside table was a cup of water, which he took and drank from greedily. After he quenched his thirst, he reached under his pillow to check if Ruihan was there. To his surprise, his treasured sword was not in its usual place. He scanned the room and found Ruihan lying on his dresser instead. Next to Ruihan was his favourite phoenix pipe. A-Lan must have put those there, he thought. It comforted him to know that Yue Qinglan had been as methodical as ever.

The door to his room opened, and Yue Qinglan entered.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Huang Yuanfei tried to sit up again; he winced. “Good morning, A-Lan.”

“Good morning to you too, A-Fei. Here, let me help.” Yue Qinglan walked to the bed and stacked the pillows on top of each other. “This might be more comfortable.”

Huang Yuanfei leaned back against the pillows. “Thank you, A-Lan. That is much more comfortable.”

Yue Qinglan moved the dresser’s chair to the bed and sat down. His expression grew a little more serious. “A-Fei, we need to talk.”

Huang Yuanfei winced again, this time with dread. “Oh. About…that, right?”

“Yes. Just how long have you been waiting to tell me?”

“For months now. I really was going to tell you after we dealt with that wolf spirit, but as you can see, my plans went awry.”

“That they did.” Yue Qinglan put a hand to his chin. “So…ah…you’re in love? With me?”

“...Yes. Are you upset?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, good.”

An awkward pause settled between them as they looked at each other, unsure of how to continue. Yue Qinglan broke the silence.

“I actually had my suspicions, later on.”

Huang Yuanfei stared, aghast. “What? …Was I that obvious?”

“To those who know you.”

“Of course. I should have expected that you would notice,” said Huang Yuanfei with exaggerated gloom, hand to his forehead.

Yue Qinglan spread out both his hands. “I really don’t mind. It’s just that no one’s ever been in love with me before.”

“So I’m the first? I’m honoured.”

Yue Qinglan grinned. He said, mirth twinkling in his eyes, “You know, I would be willing to try, if it’s with you, A-Fei.”

Huang Yuanfei bolted up; he ignored the pain. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Huang Yuanfei laughed, elated; it hurt like hell, but he didn’t care. He leaned forward to sweep Yue Qinglan into a fierce hug. Yue Qinglan returned the hug just as fiercely.

“A-Lan, I love you.”

“I love you too, A-Fei.”

Huang Yuanfei pulled away, though his hands remained on Yue Qinglan’s shoulders. “That feels so good to say. I don’t know how I managed to keep that to myself for all this time.”

“I told you things would get better once you confronted your feelings.”

“Yes, yes, you were right. I should have listened to myself sooner.” He paused before asking, “How long will I take to heal?”

“Several weeks at the least.”

Huang Yuanfei collapsed onto his pillows. “Weeks! I can't believe that boy shot me.”

“It will take longer if you keep moving around like that.”

“Fine.” Huang Yuanfei carefully rolled onto his side, a cheeky smile on his face. “Perhaps…a kiss would speed up my recovery?”

Yue Qinglan moved from his chair to sit on the bed. He leaned over Huang Yuanfei. “Why don’t we find out?”

Without missing a beat, Huang Yuanfei reached up and wrapped his arms around Yue Qinglan’s shoulders, resting his hands on the back of his neck and bringing them together so that their faces were inches apart. He tentatively kissed Yue Qinglan on the lips. He could feel Yue Qinglan start to smile, but it was restrained, as if he didn’t want to disrupt the moment. Giddy with delight, Huang Yuanfei suppressed his own burgeoning grin and deepened the kiss.

They stayed in each other's embrace for a long time, unwilling to part.

At last, Yue Qinglan broke off the kiss. He said quietly, “A-Fei, I have to go. I need to prepare lunch.”

“Already?” Huang Yuanfei pressed his forehead to Yue Qinglan’s. “I don't want you to go just yet. Can’t lunch wait?”

“Well… I suppose Xiao Hua can boil the rice and prepare the ingredients first, and I can start the cooking later.”

“Exactly. Come on, A-Lan, lie down with me.”

Yue Qinglan obliged; he shifted his position to lie on his side. Huang Yuanfei shuffled closer, slinging an arm across the other’s waist and burying his head under his chin. The dull ache in his chest was relegated to the back of his mind. His breathing started to slow, as did Yue Qinglan’s. He closed his eyes.

Slowly, as if in sync, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

#scripted #shl #cooked yuanfei like a chicken in this one. grins.

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scripted-borscht · 24 days ago

Text

Why do I think agathario are well and happy, and why should you think so, too—a comprehensive analysis presented in three acts, supported by scientific evidence.

Or…What if I examined agathario through the lens of quantum mechanics and described it in transparent human language.

Now on AO3 for your convenience.

Act I: Pre-canon.

As we know, Agatha was born during the peak of the witchcraft era in Salem. The concentration of energy within that egregore was so intense that it required something to balance and offload it. This is where Agatha steps into the spotlight; her succubus powers have always been intended as a tool for energy balance.

Let's pause for a moment to explore Agatha's origins more closely. With witches' growing power during that era, the need for a stabilizer became apparent; however, no creature of such nature existed yet. The recipe was clear—a robust vessel designed to securely harness that immense energy within, a vessel that would hold the power to suck out the lives of those who exploit their abilities. Our theory suggests that death particles were used to create such a vessel, - Agatha. If that were the case, it would indicate that agathario is a prime example of quantum entanglement.

Energy generates energy, and every action sets off a chain reaction. As Agatha used her powers more frequently, she became increasingly empowered, eventually reaching a point where stopping was impossible. The overflow of such potent energy within one individual would have undoubtedly destroyed them, eliminating the possibility of that balance tool concept. So, while Agatha balanced the energy of her surroundings, it was necessary to introduce something that would've helped her maintain her own equilibrium.

This is where Death makes an entrance. What could possibly serve as a more fitting counterpart to balance the immense power of such a vessel as Agatha Harkness than a celestial being? Rio was gradually draining the overstock energy within Agatha with every interaction they shared. Everything in the terrestrial space is energy waves; every time you think, speak, move, or feel—especially feel—you transmit energy. Rio was vital for Agatha, she was channeling that extra energy, which allowed Agatha to stay alive. In essence, Rio served as a life support system for Agatha, which becomes more apparent when viewed through the lens of 'Out of Death - Life.' In simpler terms, Rio was draining Agatha's life force so that Agatha could keep balancing the energy field. Their bond grew stronger, eventually becoming imperishable. Feel free to call it "they fell in love" or call them "soulmates" if that resonates with you.

Act II: Canon.

Agatha. Evanora, a formidable witch, instinctively felt that the fetus was something more—something else—something beyond the ordinary realm of life. In 17th-century Salem, education had yet to embrace physics, which was just beginning to emerge as a science. This limited perspective led her to misinterpret the situation, viewing it through the prevalent beliefs of the time and, unfortunately, labeling it as evil. Agatha was never meant to embody evil; instead, humanity labels anything related to death as such, and that perspective is entirely understandable.

As soon as Agatha is born, Evanora is resolutely committed to killing that evil, and, as expected, Death appears at the scene. The moment Rio lays eyes on Agatha, she feels an undeniable connection, realizing they share a unique bond—two halves of a remarkable whole destined to unite and share an extraordinary journey together. So, Death doesn't take the child that night. Instead, Rio intends to empower Agatha to thrive independently by equipping her with essential practical magic skills. As they go through the experience together, they become closer and naturally develop feelings for each other.

Nicky. Any energy can be transported from one location to another by leveraging the principles of quantum entanglement. Because the state of one particle is instantly correlated with the state of another, regardless of the distance between them, it is possible to transfer energy through terrestrial channels without physically moving the energy itself across that distance and without limitations. The concept of zero-point energy proposes that a vacuum state contains minimum energy, which can be manipulated through entanglement.

Agathario represents quantum entanglement, with a vast amount of unutilized energy between them, the extra energy Rio drains from Agatha. All energy must be recycled on the celestial frequency, so it's only logical that the surplus, entering into the reaction with agathario's love for one another, has naturally formed a new life. It is a fact that Nicky was brought to life without the use of any spell or incantation, which makes the creation even more remarkable. He was created by implementing a quantum energy teleportation protocol. Fandom likes to joke that Rio is the father, and it is true, in a way.

However, let's not forget that Rio is a cosmic being coded to take life, so essentially, Nicky is a quantum paradox. He was not supposed to happen. Hence, he couldn't stay on the terrestrial frequency as it would unbalance the natural order.

The Darkhold. Dark magic is a concept without basis. All magic is energy, and energy itself is neutral. However, the Darkhold housed formidable spells, endowing the book with a profound influence over mortals. We know Newton's second law states that the acceleration produced in the body is directly proportional to the external force applied to it. Without external force, the body cannot accelerate. Now, if we consider the contents of the Darkhold as an external force and apply it to the surrounding matter, the book would become animated. This doesn't mean it becomes a living object that can move or interact on its own, but rather that it would possess energy that could affect and respond to anyone who interacts with it. The energy field of the Darkhold was all-consuming; it devoured everything in its vicinity. It also possessed the ability to form a bond with its users, resonate with them, and create some kind of connection.

After Agatha declared her animosity towards Rio, the latter took deliberate steps to ensure Agatha would undeniably possess the Darkhold. As Rio could no longer be around, the book was meant to replicate her effect on Agatha by absorbing the excess energy. The temporary solution was effective until Wanda destroyed all copies of the Darkhold, forcing agathario to revert to the original arrangement. Rio seeks out Agatha right after the Darkhold vanishes, determined to restore her crucial role as Agatha's life support.

Act III: Post-canon. Ghost. What is a ghost, exactly. And why does Rio hate ghosts.

A ghost is an unphysical state in the context of gauge theory. Gauge theory asserts that any reference point remains constant, even if the measurement changes. In simpler terms, it's like when two things appear different, but in essence, they are the same. Therefore, Agatha becoming a ghost does not change her identity; she remains Agatha, just in a non-physical state. Ghost particles are "frozen" in time and space and exist on the border of two frequencies, celestial and terrestrial, making them immune to energy recycling processes. In terms of interaction, ghosts are more aligned with celestial frequencies than terrestrial ones. As a ghost field represents an energy state, interaction on the celestial plane is possible since its essence lies in aether and not in physical matter. Therefore, terrestrial frequency turns out to be challenging for a ghost as it cannot interact with objects physically due to the lack of a physical form.

So, why does Rio hate ghosts. It's quite simple, really. The in-between-two-frequencies realm is the frequency that Rio primarily occupies. Although she is a cosmic entity whose natural habitat is the celestial frequency, her role is to guide energy toward its recycling, which means her "office hours" are spent on the border between realms. Now, It is true that a person becomes a ghost due to unresolved issues, and their energy seeks to complete a cycle before being recycled. When a person dies, they may initially not realize it, trying to act as they normally would. However, they cannot, as they are now in an unphysical state. So, all these confused former humans float around on the same frequency as Rio, trying to figure out what is happening. This situation can definitely be annoying; Rio has a valid point. Furthermore, it adds significant complexity to her role as Death.

Agatha is exceptional, however. First, she has never been just an ordinary human. Second, she possesses enough knowledge to understand what is happening. Third, well, she is Agatha. Agatha becoming a ghost actually benefits agathario significantly. She gains immunity to energy recycling, which allows her to maintain the form that Rio is bound to and loves deeply. They are now on the same frequency, and Rio no longer needs to cross dimensions in order to be near Agatha. Additionally, Agatha is now able to continue her essential work of balancing energies within the witches' egregore, all while encountering fewer risks. Obviously, at first, they would undoubtedly miss the physical aspect of their relationship, particularly sexual intercourse. However, they would come to appreciate and connect with each other on deeper levels, which could be much more fulfilling and enjoyable than mere physical touch.

Bonus: After eons of dedicated service to the Universe, Agatha would be rewarded with a permanent position among cosmic entities as the force of balance. She and Rio would become true equals in every aspect of existence. They would have all of eternity to spend together, work and play:)

That's all, folks! I appreciate everyone who made it to the end. Thank you for taking a moment of your life to read this, and thank you for your interest:)

#agatha all along #agathario #agatha harkness #rio vidal #headcanon #inside my mind #scripted

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