#yao mingming fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minteagalaxea · 5 years ago

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lãnh cung | y.m.m

mingming and jianjiang

genre: three cups of angst to one teaspoon of fluff

word count: 14.6k

inspiration: (x). you don’t need to understand the lyrics—you need to understand the plot more.

note: the term “lãnh cung” is vietnamese for “cold palace”. during imperial vietnam and china, the cold palace was the residence for concubines that fell out of favor with the emperor until their death (suicide was illegal). once the emperor banished them to the cold palace, they would never see him again. also adapted my writing style to mimic ancient chinese novels.

the bedchambers felt chilling, despite the warmth and proximity of the residents in the room, the flitting chatter between several of the attendants and with the lady sitting in the center of the vanity; perhaps, they surmised, it was due to the silent presence of one attendant, a brush dusting the lightest layer of rouge onto her cheeks, eyes downcast and fingers poised.

the attendant barely peered upward, scrutinizing her painted facial features with a practiced eye before maneuvering her figure to stand behind the established lady, nimble fingers scraping the full of the head of the woman as she pulled the thick strands into a firm bun secured with a ribbon of lavender silk and silver hairpin with two amethyst pendants. traipsing to the closet, the young woman briefly acknowledged that she was the sole servant in the room, yet maintaining her silence as she rummaged to find her desired gown: a heliotrope color with a puce-shaded sash, and the indigo court robe required for the occasion. merely aiding in fitting the lady into her garment, tightening the sash, adjusting the court robe, and sliding on a pair of customary platform heels that she was grateful to abstain from, the superior gave the servant an almost fond smile before pivoting to the mirror on the vanity to inspect her reflection.

"jianjiang," the lady called, maintaining eye contact with her reflection as said attendant bored into the surface, giving the elder a glance at her large eyes, frosted pink lips, and premature graying that consumed the entirety of her head, "would the emperor approve of my visage and garments for the ceremonies of the evening?"

said attendant remained momentarily silent, pondering over her choice of words to uphold respect, yet express her thoughts as honestly as possible; eventually, her contralto voice spoke, "i believe the emperor would be pleased with your choice of color, as they suit your complexion, my lady; yet, i do express my, self-perceived, concerns regarding your...semblance in the presence of his imperial majesty.”

"i am grateful you believe such—perhaps it is one of the reasons why you are my favorite attendant, though it is a shame that I have to share you with lady zhou jieqiong," the woman remarked, "i will dismiss you now, jianjiang, and i will await your presence in the morning has lady jieqiong not requested you first."

"of course, my lady," jianjiang bowed before exiting the bedchambers, the swing of the pendants on the hair stick being the only audible noise on her figure, rattling like a jade splashing into the river of golden waters as her footsteps ceased as she arrived at the river. the wind rustled with a gentle lilt, the moonlight illuminated the water with a serene radiance and the attendant perched her feet between the pillars that constructed the border around the body of water; the slight chill caused her the back flap of her dress—a high collared, sleeveless white that faded to a train of periwinkle flowers flowing diagonally to the bottom of the dress (the middle of her thighs)—to billow loosely, not that she heeded it any mind. her arachnid-like fingers slid the hair stick from her styled updo, allowing her silver tresses to sway while jianjiang tucked the stick into the waistband into her silk pants, breathing a sigh of transient contentment as she basked in the tranquility of the artificial river for the proceeding three hours.

such was the realities of attending to a concubine: incessant work in conjunction with minimal rest, yet spite of the meager monetary gains and nefarious, quarrelsome ladies of the harem, perhaps the most rewarding gift would be all the secrets reaped as the favorite attendant to the two vehemently warring concubines, and chen jianjiang held them all.

when jianjiang was a young child, her mother and father grew curious at the physical greying in her hair that should not have begun so early into her life, hence consulting a healer, who subsequently directed them to the fortune-teller to determine the origin and the potential impact it would have on her future. When the woman arrived, she had taken to inspecting their meager accommodations before examining—let alone conversing—with the subject in question, and the doe-eyed adolescent remained precariously still as the sibyl twirled around her form, asking her to pull a series of cards from a flourished deck, her expression horrified.

"your daughter," the elder foreboded to her parents, "her countenance will physically appear centuries older than her innocence, and she will suffer a fate worse than death: a woman without a husband, the child will grow to have suitors shun from her, regardless of how pure her soul might be." despite the omens that spilled from the lips of the fortune-teller, jianjiang remained unperturbed by her future, merely owlishly staring her mother and father with a vacant expression on her youthful visage; it was a peculiar matter, considering her unspoken ability to understand the vast vocabulary of an adult for a girl in china.

as the silver overtook the totality of her tresses sans for her roots, her face had not aged as drastically as foreseen—in contradiction to the claims, jianjiang had retained the complexion suited for her age, albeit with features as sharp as the spear her father wielded, assuaging the dramatized remarks regarding her and concerns of her mother.

lady jieqiong had indeed requested for the presence of jianjiang the following morning, who stood behind the concubine to lather her hair with the protective elixir required for every woman residing in the imperial palace, having to fidget ever-so-slightly to accommodate her rapid head movements as she barked commands that incited fear and rushed footsteps to fulfill them. "those wretched attendants," the lady muttered spitefully, "only useful for idle chatter and never performing any serviceable tasks lest i lecture them into subservience; lady cheng xiao must have persuaded them to her side, i am confident of that, with the supposedly innocent gait and saccharine voice."

finished with her bathing, the attendant utilized her lithe fingers to pluck the fur from the floor, delicately patting the excess water from her body and aiding in fastening the buttons of her dress, a turquoise gown similar to the ones of an attendant, yet more regal with a train for the back flap, long sleeves, and gold embroidery on the fabric. jianjiang started drying her locks before sliding on an embellished turquoise headdress, perfectly fitting as the attendant pulled it to expose a portion of the partings in her hair and plaiting the remainder into a flower, securing it with a myriad of double-stringed hairpins (several of which with chiming pendants dangling), forming a visible crown atop the silk-covered headdress.

in comparison to lady cheng xiao, lady jieqiong, in regards to her makeup, was never as demanding, her confident gait and sultry expressions overcoming any heavily required makeup, thus requiring the tall attendant to dust on the white base and paint her lips a vivid crimson; "leave—i see no further necessity for your tall existence in front of my vision," the concubine snapped, engendering a bow from the attendant as her feet pattered out of the bedchambers and into the kitchen barracks.

"jianjiang," the young woman heard a bright, lilting voice call for her attention as she craned her body to see a tall young man in flowing cobalt robes and tousled honey locks, haphazardly pinned and knotted, "just the young woman i was seeking for assistance for this paramount issue."

"scholar jiaxin, i presume you are exaggerating," the attendant deflected with perfunctory ease, her dark eyes shining with a mirthful glint while said scholar passed the black scrap ribbon required to bind his hair into place; the young woman rose onto the tips of her toes, silently grateful in the instance for her—not-so-blessedly—long legs as her fingers retied his hair into the standard knot for scholars.

"i am curious, my dearest jianjiang," another voice chimed, the familiar intone of general li wenhan, "why you never became a concubine for the harem: you have the beauty, the literacy, the intelligence of an educated woman, the grit of a soldier in combat, and the grace of a woman."

jianjiang upheld her taciturnity in the face of the question, gesturing to the quarreling concubines, each with their faction of their own to represent the pinnacle reason as to why the attendant would never sacrifice her principle neutrality to become a concubine; her genuine answer, however, would remain concealed to even the most trusted of palace allies.

general chen jianhong was the epitome of a self-made man in the yao dynasty: a man of humble origins, he established himself as an impeccable military strategist and formidable combatant during the southern war, of which he joined through conscription, leaving behind his expecting wife, huang yunyao.

in the imperial palace, whispers and intrigue began to spark regarding the peculiar man with formidable combative prowess, eventually trickling upwards in the social hierarchy to the emperor himself, zhang yixing, who sought to maintain his loyalty and trust to the empire and the army. chen jianhong refused the offers of riches and security, instead choosing one, simple request in exchange for his utmost loyalty to the throne, "my daughter, upon my death, she will perish in the squalor of the village; all i ask is after my decease, she will have financial security through work to provide for her family."

it was not until his decease in combat that jianjiang knew about the favor—she was only seven years of age, and her father trained her in the art of spear-dueling to protect herself as she matured and lived in the poverty-ridden town, forced to endure the persisting remarks of being a living, portentous child in a society where a woman was to marry and bear children. ignoring the rustle of the kitchen, of which she attributed toward the inherent clumsiness her mother possessed, jianjiang raised the spear and pierced the air fiercely and swiftly, brushing along with the wind with a poised delicacy, eyes widening in brief horror as the blade grazed a heavily clothed man, dangerously aimed to behead the man lest she completed the motion or had not maintained constant vigilance.

bowing respectfully, jianjiang peered upwards, eyes unwavering as the guard informed, "i suggest you begin to transport your most treasured belongings with you, as you will reside in the imperial palace; his imperial majesty provided no explanation, though he summons your immediate presence in the grand hall." the girl craned her head, conflicted, stormy eyes gazing at her despairing mother, lamenting the loss of her daughter too soon, the young girl pattering towards the woman and embracing her, rubbing her swollen belly before maneuvering to take an engraved wooden box from underneath her bed—she kept her eyes downcast as the entourage traversed the journey towards the imperial palace.

when jianjiang learned of the arrangement, she nodded, proceeding to begin learning the duties of an attendant to the royal harem, her ability to memorize demands and minutiae of the concubines ensuring her survival within the golden walls; after all, it was much like her father taught her, "silence will always be your greatest weapon, and knowledge is the most exceptional prize."

scrap silk: a commodity the concubines and nobility often overlooked, though a delicacy for the attendants, who reveled in the joy of discovering the source fabric for the garments they wore personally, including jianjiang herself as she strode through the hall towards the attendant chambers carrying a basketful of the textiles, footsteps a peculiar amalgamation of rushed, composed, and silent despite her footwear. however, in contradiction to her poise—and haste of her desired presence from lady jieqiong—the attendant collided into a figure, resulting in a sonorous thump against the immaculate wooden surface and a clatter of silks; her deft fingers began to pluck the modicum of cloths from the floor, and watchful eyes attempted to dart away from the other pair of hands assisting in collecting the materials into the basket. in that action, jianjiang had committed her first error of she peering upward, with her eyes boring into the ones of the man the woman had evaded the entirety of her tenure as a royal attendant to the royal harem: his imperial majesty yao mingming.

the emperor, jianjiang concluded, was charming, with the pale complexion of falling snowflakes, sharp and dark eyes of a predatory feline, and rosy and thin lips of blowing cherry blossom petals; upon closer inspection, the attendant noted the speckle on the right of his nose and the hollowed cheekbones and jawline that provided some resemblance of his political predecessor, instead inheriting majority of his visage from the empress dowager. his robe was of the most exquisite silk, with long sleeves and patterned embroidery that the woman knew required copious amounts of time and precision to perfect (an acquaintance of hers, hanyu, murmured to her in passing that she was wearing the silk he crafted, a cascade of archil orchids against the customary white of her attire), her detail-oriented eyes caught the minuscule amount of taupe around his eyes, graduating into a darker shade at his outer corners.

releasing herself from her reverie as immediately as it arrived, jianjiang discerned the faint, familiar intonation of an exasperated lady zhou requesting her attendance, inciting a wince as the attendant bowed as correctly as attainable with the basket in her clutches, "my apologies, your imperial majesty." footsteps hastening in pace, the girl liltingly marched past the tall physique of the emperor, mentally berating herself for the lack of a more respectful pardon in his presence through her rushed movements and scarcely retaining proper breathing when she entered the bedchambers of a fiercely angry lady zhou, who stared at her expectantly for a suitable explanation.

"i fell," jianjiang deadpanned with resolute finality, quelling the hurricane of boisterous fury as the concubine dismissed the other servants with one brisk motion, leaving the tallest and highest-ranking in a tenuous, unusually favorable silence as the former attended to her duties.

conversely, mingming contorted his body to note the direction that the woman disappeared towards—her footwear mysteriously created no echo against the wood, and her uniform against her skin formulated the impression that she was merely an apparition, albeit a distinguishable one regardless.

from the very first night as a servant to the royal harem, chen jianjiang could not peacefully sleep, her cognizance only capable of visualizing the grotesque possibilities of how her father died in combat, and the memories of him resulted in a determined child exiting her compact living function to explore her new location of residence, hoping to find any semblance of solace from her newfound demons. deliberately, silently, she trekked, fearful of infracting an established tradition of females in predominantly male fields of literature and education the moment she stepped foot into the vast library located nearby the bedchambers of the emperor, doe-like eyes flitting around for guards or awake residents as her fingers traced the engraved scrolls and tomes with reverence, noiselessly selecting an anthology of antique poetry from a shelf.

it created a habit—the young servant would soundlessly sneak her course towards the imperial library, choose a literary work, and read until an hour before dawn to conceal any evidence of her nonconforming rendezvouses—that piqued the curiosity of the occupant in the adjacent quarters as whispers networked its way throughout the palace. thus, one night, emperor zhang yixing entered the library, concealing himself in a corner to surprise the interloper of the library, benevolent eyes bewildered at the sight of the youngest member of the Imperial Palace raising herself to the tips of her toes to snatch a moderately-sized tome from its home and into her grasp. "so, it appears that you are the subject of the rumors," the noble mused, sending the servant into a jolt of shock and fear, frowning as the child stepped further from him with each forward motion, "you need not be afraid, my child, although I suppose you have a valid reason to be."

jianjiang remained mute, merely bowing and coiling her arms around the book tighter, expression bordering on defiant as her eyes pierced his, perplexing the monarch as to how to broach the subject matter of a literate servant; trepidation washed over him as he questioned, "did you father teach you reading and writing prior to his passing?" after a moment of wary consideration, the maid nodded, glancing downward at the tome as if she favored its interest over that of the emperor personally addressing her, though emperor zhang yixing can see its appeal: the text was a classical work in china, the art of war by sun tzu, one of which his father imposed upon on him to understand, contrasting the young child and her interest in literature.

"perhaps i should allow you to read here on your own volition in your leisure following your duties," the emperor mused to himself, though jianjiang heard the prospective idea due to the silence permeating the library, "i suppose there would be no harm in doing so." despite her lack of verbal dialogue, the attendant smiled, eyes crinkling in happiness at being able to surround herself freely around the knowledge and wisdom her father fueled into her soul—the anxiety gnawing at her core dissipated somewhat, only lingering out of knowing the man would no longer appear with her corporeally, and the tomes and scrolls would have to suffice.

her routine altered itself into reading throughout the day and attempting the courage to craft letters to her mother and younger sibling in the evenings, stealthily inserting it into the bag of a messenger she frequently crossed paths with on her way to the royal kitchens for breakfast, and the messenger would secretly pass her a letter within the upcoming week from her mother, forging a friendship between the silent chen jianjiang and the shy hu chunyang.

"chunyang," jianjiang muttered as the messenger returned from his morning delivery, eyes frantic as her fellow peer bequeathed her with a neatly folded slip of parchment, eyes gloomy as he inspected her reading over the letter preceding him slipping a thin wooden box into her right hand; hesitantly, the attendant uncovered the contents, an emphatic gasp escaping her bow-shaped lips as she saw the double-stringed hairpin resting comfortably inside.

the ornament was of a rose-colored metal and a simplistic branch of cherry blossoms with two thin pendants of morganite, and concubines would have perceived the hair ornament as ordinary and unrepresentative of the higher position of concubines, yet the young woman in question was no concubine, and she cherished the gift as her arms wound around chunyang tightly, mumbling a garbled "thank you" before exchanging his gift to her with her own of steamed buns, neglecting to tell him that she had given the messenger her breakfast meal.

due to the early rise of the day, jianjiang pranced to her quarters to unearth the aged box she initially took with her, revealing a series of similar, smaller, single-stringed hairpins, inspiration striking her as she began to plait minuscule strands of her greyed locks and wrapping them into coils around the previous and securing them with the pins, eventually forming an ornate flower with her newest ornament completing the style. releasing a satisfied exhale, the woman meandered towards the bedchambers of lady cheng xiao, whose apprehensive appearance unnerved the servant as the concubine meekly worded, "jianjiang, would you please prepare my countenance for the morning audience?"

merely nodding obediently, clawlike fingers slid themselves through her caramel tresses, slowly twisting and wrapping to create a tall-standing updo, decorated with large lavender and silver hairpins on the right side, a smaller pin on the upper left, and the left with a long, silver fringe attached to the double-stranded hair stick inserted horizontally. spiraling herself to face the cherubic concubine, her hands expertly dusted the white powder against her visage, shimmering a peach powder over the hood and under her eyes, contrasting the matte finish with a golden shimmer and a line of black just above her lashline, and jianjiang concluded her makeup with staining vermilion onto her lips.

"jianjiang, you styled your hair differently, and that, I believe, is a new hairpin," lady cheng xiao identified, earning a momentarily stunned attendant followed by a nod, "was there any particular cause as to the abrupt change in your stylistic presentation—not that it is anything lesser than your best—but could you answer it to appease my curiosity?"

"experimentation," came the answer, her dark voice sparing no expense for further conversation, the shaking of her pendants resounding as a muted tinkle rather than a sonorous brush when she maneuvered her way towards the door as to excuse herself to lady zhou jieqiong upon the arrival of the other attendants to fuss over the morning audience gown and robe combination.

expediting the speed of her footsteps, the attendant arrived into the chambers without warranting a pointed glare from the particularly contentious concubine, patiently awaiting the departure of the other women cleansing and drying the noble lady before jianjiang began bundling the inky shade of hair at the crown and twisting and turning the tresses to the left side of her head; securing the updo with a myriad of gold and turquoise hair decorations throughout, the most distinct being the hairpin with a fringe reaching the small of the back and the central one at her forehead, a floral pattern that aligned with the ones decorating the base of the updo. deftly painting her lips a cochineal red, lady zhou flicked her wrist as to dismiss her coldly, bowing as she crossed paths with the lower concubines and a haughty-looking eunuch entering her sleeping quarters to present themselves as sycophants to her faction of the royal harem.

as she retrieved the basket of silks and attempted to deliver them to the tailor, he changxi, momentarily stopping as her dark doe eyes spectated the two contesting concubines with their respective entourages glaring at each other in the central pavilion, eyes filled with malevolent intentions as lady zhou, the younger of the two court ladies, threatened, "i suggest you stop hoarding my attendant before i coerce you into doing so."

"should the same not be said for you, lady zhou, because as i last recalled, jianjiang is not a slave nor a dog for you to beat into submission; should she not receive some level of respect as the longest attendant to work in the imperial palace?" the older girl chastised, struggling to present herself as a levelheaded individual, "she is not chattel."

"i will address her as i please, and at least i am honest about my persona, rather than presenting myself to be an innocent, naive little princess to everybody in the hopes of wooing his imperial majesty with such charm—his imperial majesty would not wish to make a lying whore his empress," she venomously retorted, earning appalled gasps and horrified expressions upon her rivals, and the spectator felt another presence behind her, eyes widened in worry.

"chunyang, i need you to perform a favor," jianjiang addressed hushedly, slightly peering down at the messenger with a fretful glance, and the messenger nodded, "call the guards, especially wenhan; bring as many as you can because this spat will not end favorably for anybody here, i am certain of that."

her companion bolted towards the west wing, and the attendant continued to hear the tumultuous exchange, eyes lingering on the candle that melted closer to the hour of the morning audience until her ears caught the telltale note of a resounding slap, directed from the haughty eunuch she had seen previously to another eunuch, one that supported lady cheng xiao. unable to stand by and watch the frivolous argument, the servant stormed towards the pavilion, narrowly sliding to avoid an unusually high kick from one of the lower-ranking concubines to play the intermediary, snarling, "stand down, both of you—you two are concubines, so behave as such and squabble later in your leisure time, however not before the morning audience, in which you all will be tardy and perhaps face the wrath of his imperial majesty, and i am confident he will not look upon any of you favorably following this incident when he hears."

"who are you to make such inconsequential demands, peasant: the last i recalled you are only to obey orders we give to you," a lesser concubine arrogantly claimed, stunned into embarrassed silence as the attendant swerved her head in the direction to the voice of the remark, dark eyes stormy, glowering, and piercing without having to resort to verbal submission, with her eyes daring them to provoke her.

the guards arrived moments after jianjiang had intervened, wenhan turning to stare at the younger woman, whose silent reciprocation answering all his queries regarding the situation as he began escorting lady zhou towards the grand hall, another guard leading lady cheng en route immediately after the younger and her faction exited first, leaving jianjiang in the pavilion alone to gather her thoughts.

upon the arrival of wenhan into the grand hall for the morning audience, mingming raised a delicate eyebrow, curious as to the escorting of the two prominent concubines in his harem, receiving a furtive nod to signify to not peruse into the issue before proceeding with the morning affairs, of which he noted the lack of semi-subtle sabotage between them, and after dismissing them, he exhaled in relief. "wenhan, i require an explanation for your abrupt departure from your station this morning," the emperor commanded, and the guarded sighed, almost anticipating such an order, "i understand it was an emergency, though even dire situations have context as to such leave, and i surmise it involved lady cheng and lady zhou."

"i have an explanation, your imperial majesty," the quiet voice of chunyang called in the almost-barren grand hall, and the encouraging nod from the emperor forced him to clear his throat, "the two ladies were quarreling in the central pavilion, and one of the attendants informed me to find general li to assist in escorting the two noble ladies in time for the morning audience—i sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, your imperial majesty."

"do not apologize, chunyang, although, your presence here will aid in answering the question I wish to present to you, general li, and scholars jia yi and guan yue," the monarch deflected, gesturing to sit casually on the stairs, "i encountered a concubine the previous week: tall, silver-haired, a small scar dotted on her visage—apologies for the poeticism—, and eyes reminiscent of amber?"

chunyang, archetypically a calm, collected, shy messenger, burst into a fit of giggles at the description, with guan yue and jia yi, the esteemed scholars, explaining the unexpected reaction, "the woman you describe is no concubine; her name is jianjiang, and aside from the empress dowager, she may just be the most powerful woman in the imperial palace."

"my dearest jianjiang, you are looking much too pale for a woman whose duties is to travel around this enormous residence," changxi expostulated to the woman sitting across from him, a needle between her nails as she threaded the scrap silk closed after the tailor sheared off the fraying hem, large eyes concentrated on sewing the veil, "have you eaten recently, such as today during breakfast?"

the attendant released an indistinct shake of her head, mumbling, "chunyang ate mine, considering he delivered me something from home just this morning, and youwei understands chunyang and his love for steamed buns; i think i can manage until lunch, he wei, therefore, do not fret over me for both of our sakes." the tailor acquiesced, continuing to shear the textiles with precarious precision, though his eyes lingered on the willowy stature of the younger, his cognizance wandering towards the remark that the kitchen staff had made regarding jianjiang and her more circumspect demeanor the previous week; however, he remained unsure as to how to introduce the topic.

"jianjiang, chen youwei heard an implication that you had an encounter with him imperial majesty himself, yao mingming, and that you fled without offering formalities—i assumed it would be best to ask you directly regarding the issue instead of trusting hearsay," changxi blurted unscrupulously, momentarily appalled at the lack of response from the woman.

"it is not relevant, in my opinion," jianjiang countered smoothly, annoyed at the cook for insinuating such folly to her trusted friends, "and i do not understand why it should be, considering i have never met his imperial majesty face-to-face before the previous week, and i suggest you do not peruse into it any further, or else i might stab you with the shears in your clutches, he wei."

silence permeated the tailoring quarters, the only audible sound being the soft snipping of shears to the shining fabric or the thread weaving its way through the textile to create a hem as the two worked; the menial work provided some semblance of solace from the chaos that became the royal harem, yet also a suffocating prison of her and the thoughts that became more turbulent as the conflict between the two noble ladies escalated to terrifying heights. fortunately, a reverberating pair of footsteps interrupted the lurid internal conflict as xia hanyu entered the workspace with several bundles of freshly weaved silk, teasingly acknowledging jianjiang as his favorite model, noting that she had a propensity to don uniforms constructed of the silks he designed, to which she reasoned, "i have an appreciation for flowers, and you are the only weaver able to produce them," the ones on her uniform mauve and puce blossoms in a diagonal waterfall beginning on her bottom right.

"and for that, i am grateful—the court ladies do not respect the appeal and subtleties of waterfalls and cascades of flowers, only favoring the dragons and ferocity of the late empress wu zetian over the grace and vulnerability of the current empress dowager," hanyu lamented, his low voice filled with languor and anguish, "they assume that maturity will capture the heart of his imperial majesty, and it is sickening."

"are you insinuating that you know his imperial majesty well enough to understand that naiveté will make his indifferent heart race, hanyu?" jianjiang chided, lilting and impish, "because perhaps you may provide such advice to the concubines, and i will have my workload spared, as the other attendants are capable of recreating hair and makeup reminiscent of said appeal."

"are you insinuating that you hold interest in his imperial majesty, dearest jianjiang because again, you have the proclivity to wear representatively innocent?" the weaver challenged, the attendant flickering her eyes between him and the tailor, their smirks vexing her to oblivion as she established the purpose of the arrival: they were attempting to provoke her as to admit her fascination towards the emperor.

eyes narrowing into a murderous glare at her two scheming friends, they recognized the validity in her statement as she snarled, "please—everybody in this palace except for his imperial majesty himself is aware that I am anything but innocent."

approximately one year into her service, people began to notice jianjiang had begun to transmute into something more nefarious for a child as young as she, considering that in spite of her silence, the girl represented the optimism and the purity that was never present in the forbidden city, where everybody was intent of backstabbing one another for power, and people had become intent on shielding her from the horrors of the world.

jianjiang had developed a crush on a young man, developed over their mutual interest in flowers, spending their leisure time by the river, with chunyang watching the two of them playing games of their childhood and the girl calling the boy "shenshen" affectionately, even hearing a promise to marry each other as they reached the age of marriage; however, one day, the young man had failed to appear, thus forcing her to wait until dawn for his presence, crestfallen at the lack of shenshen.

the attendant learned that his father, an adviser to his imperial majesty zhang yixing, had used his son to have the emperor banish her from the forbidden city, and in her fury, jianjiang had managed to hunt down shenshen, slapping and hurting him in retaliation for manipulating her affections for her, and he dutifully endured her punishment, suffering injuries that marred his countenance for weeks. another pawn the scheme, he approached his father to remonstrate his plot in damaging the most innocent being in the imperial palace, and upon hearing the issue from shenshen, his imperial majesty suspended his adviser from his duties indefinitely.

following the incident, jianjiang grew colder and placed defenses on her heart to prevent men from penetrating them, while shenshen grew to become li zhenning, a trusted adviser to his imperial majesty yao mingming; the two had taught themselves to separate any childhood relationship from the realities of their occupations, even if they viewed each other as friends after the initial hostility, and zhenning lived knowing that he had created the darkened icicle that was chen jianjiang.

it had been mere coincidence that mingming had heard the clash of metal along his path to the river of golden waters, yet the sound piqued his interest to stray away from his intended destination to the origin of the rhythmic strikes, finding himself in a sequestered hall admiring two figures dueling with snake-headed spears and noting their differences amid their similarities: the male implemented the strength and power of a man in combat, while the female utilized her lithe stature towards her advantage. his eyes remained on the girl, her gestures calm and flowing like a river as she transitioned from one movement to the subsequent once; sliding underneath to sweep his legs, she crouched over him with the spear alarming close to his throat before the girl rose and tugged him up with her, the man speaking, "jianjiang, you truly are the daughter of general chen."

"and your superior could have trained you better, general li, though i suppose i cannot complain about such matters," the attendant refuted airily, returning the staff before freezing in her tracks, bowing properly before rushing out of the training hall, earning a quizzical expression from the emperor to his general, who could only shrug his shoulders in resignation as both pairs of eyes followed the direction where she made her escape.

"your imperial majesty, i do not believe you had done something to warrant a negative opinion of you," wenhan supplied pensively, "although i will make the distinction that you appear to have more than a mere fascination with her, and she may be aware of that, even if she refuses to speak to you regarding the issue because i know her, and jianjiang will prefer to evade your presence for eternity lest you approach her first and prevent her from leaving."

"of course, general li—the question is where exactly am i going to effectively confront her without her fleeing at the sight of me?" the emperor raised an eyebrow, silencing the warrior, who conflicted at revealing the sanctuary of the royal servant or respecting her privacy and sanity before she decided to kill him upon discovering he was the whistleblower.

"find her at the river of golden waters," a voice interloped, both men peering to see the royal adviser with an indescribable emotion on his tan complexion, "if i recall correctly, she tends to bide her time admiring the scenery after she completes her duties for the evening; she told it helps her sleep with fewer night terrors than without."

mingming caught the surly glance wenhan directed to the adviser, theorizing that had he not been in the room, the guard might have snatched the serpent spear from its perch, aimed to maim or mar the younger without any trepidation, though zhenning remained undeterred as he answered the silent question, "jianjiang and i share a history, one that is unpleasant as you can surmise with our general glaring at me, even if we have mended a majority of said history."

true to his word, the emperor found a familiar figure reveling in the lilting breeze and gentle scent of cherry blossoms, her silver tresses undone from its traditional style on her head and billowing with the wind alongside the back flap of her dress, and he mustered the courage to inquire, "restless evening?" the remark startled the young woman from her haze, and as she prepared to retreat from him, mingming clutched her fingers, eyes beseeching as he forced her to cease leaving for the third instance, "please, stay for a moment—you have no idea how long i have been attempting to find you, so just for a moment, can i speak to you?"

amber eyes boring into brown ones, her head twitched slightly, the smallest indication of an agreement as she allowed him to lead her to the marble bench, gesturing to the seat for her to position herself on, "you should sit, jianjiang; it has been a long day for you, has it not?"

almost anticipating no response, the girl sat on the marble surface with her body facing away from him to peer at the river while he faced forward, eyes wary of being in the same proximity as the emperor of china and eyebrow raised in apprehension, and the emperor confided, "i fear plenty of possibilities during my reign, and i suppose i could divulge this matter with you, considering we both have lost our fathers, and i fear i will not be able to succeed as well as my father."

"your father was many things; however, a successful ruler was not one of them," jianjiang interjected, a sigh escaping her rosy lips in tandem with mingming eliciting a momentarily mortified appearance towards the attendant due to her blunt diction and perspective that contradicted the popular opinion within the forbidden city.

"my father offered you this occupation, did he not?" mingming inquired, confounded at the generosity his father provided against the harsh opposition to the consensus, and he established that he was fortunate that the attendant refused to make eye contact with him lest he was to crumble upon her fiery, golden orbs and hardened lines of her lips.

"while i am grateful to your father for providing me this job, i cannot respect his political decisions," jianjiang rebutted, his silence pushing her to continue her statement, "why is it that the people had to fund the southern and western wars when the imperial palace has more than enough money to finance it themselves—the villages and towns live such squalor that the men are willing to kill each other over a bowl of rice, and the women have to resort to prostitution to survive?"

following the litany of words, the emperor peered to face the attendant, her eyes bitter and unkind as he questioned, "if that is the case, how am i supposed to rectify the issues?"

"the only way to create effective solutions to the problems of your nation is to understand the problems of your nation," the servant rationalized, maneuvering her figure away from the man as to stand and prepare to take her to leave after seeing no other purpose for lingering in the presence of emperor yao mingming, who would have allowed such until he came to a peculiar notion.

"jianjiang, how exactly do you know about the amount of gold currently stored in the imperial treasury?" he perused, watching the girl stare at him with a deadpan glint in her eyes, and he felt his cheeks flare in a cherry red at what he realized to be an idiotic question, one that jianjiang answered regardless.

"in the imperial palace, knowledge is power—you, especially of all people, should be aware of that, your imperial majesty," she said, turning on the balls of her feet and leaving the man in solitude to ruminate on her words in the moonlight and cherry flowers.

in light of the upcoming choosing ceremony, lady cheng xiao and lady zhou had become unnerved, with the former more insecure and the latter more short-tempered and jianjiang ultimately more stressed at having to appease both women to the best of her abilities as she sacrificed hours of sleep and eating to attend to their demands throughout the day, and now evenings; therefore, it presented itself as unusual when the empress dowager summoned jianjiang for the day, much to the ire of both concubines, though neither were able to protest based on hierarchy.

the empress dowager was infinitely maternal and kind, extending that comfort to jianjiang, whose homesickness was perpetually well-concealed and suppressed to fulfill her role well, and the attendant appreciated the insouciant change in trajectory as she served the elder woman tea in the way she recalled the woman preferred it, mind quelled from having to tread on eggshells with the two warring concubines. "you have always been my favorite attendant, jianjiang," the empress dowager praised, "with your precision to detail and unfailing heart, i supposed it was only a matter of time until my son became enamored with you so quickly and powerfully—he speaks about you quite frequently."

"we have only had a conversation once, your royal highness, and i believed there would be nothing regarding me for him to even discuss with anybody," jianjiang started after a moment of consideration, "i also might have said less than pleasant things to him in regards to your deceased husband and his father."

the empress dowager shook her head fondly, her hair ornaments rattling with the movement, and the servant giggled softly, eyes crinkling with such childlike mirth that betrayed her typically stoic face and indifferent tone, saying, "he speaks of you quite highly, always referring to your patience with your mutual allies and their relentless antics and your beauty in your gestures." the superior smiled, laugh lines prominent from the years of doing so throughout the years of experiencing joyful memories and mirthful moments before her visage morphs into something morose, commenting, "tomorrow is your day off, is it not, jianjiang?"

"it is, though i am surprised you recalled such trivial information, your royal highness," the attendant responded reflexively, too familiar with acting, and ultimately becoming, a ghost within the wooden walls and marble pillars despite being a corporeal subject, "perhaps i should have recognized that you were the one to persuade the late emperor zhang of allowing such exceptions for me, and i am eternally grateful."

the proceeding morning, the lack of presence from the tall servant became apparent, though nobody understood why only receiving a mischievous, serene smile from the empress dowager as she marched past the concubines, much to the ire and sadness of the royal harem.

by the first year, jianjiang and her coldness penetrated throughout the palace, predominantly for two reasons: the first being the betrayal of zhenning, and the second being the repressed melancholy of seeing the various families together, fathers training sons and mothers to daughters in their future roles, and jianjiang had nobody to provide support in times of sadness. said melancholy worsened upon the impending anniversary of her residence in the ornate palace and catalyst to the transition, her demeanor pensive and solemn as she braided the hair of lady liao mingwen, requiring a chair to provide the proper height as to reach her head to twist the strands against the crown of her head.

the unexpected friendship between lady liao and chen jianjiang began out of something akin to necessity, with the latter serving the concubine on a more regular basis, and the former attempting to break through the taciturnity the servant upheld to ease her nerves, succeeding until her exchange with the son of the royal adviser, following which her barriers emerged once more. after her departure, lady liao unearthed the truth behind the child and her moodier disposition: the wistful stares and lack of interaction with her fellow workers extended beyond her age, but rather, out of homesickness.

thus, in between the loving arms of his imperial majesty, the concubine confessed her suspicions about the youngest worker, and zhang yixing, ever-so-enamored with the sweet lady, acquiesced to her request, opting to inform the child of the decision—she would be able to return home on the day she arrived in the imperial palace (an ironic twist of fate) every year, to satiate the turbulent pit of forlornness in her body.

dainty footsteps reverberated against the wooden surface as a freckled face entered the kitchen approximately an hour earlier than she traditionally did to obtain a wrapped bundle of breakfast food from youwei, who beamed as he spoke, "your sister takes after you, i realize, with the way you recant stories of eating steamed buns whenever you visit."

accepting the parcel, the slightly shorter of the two tugged him into an embrace, mumbling, "thank you for the gifts; i promise to repay you pack at some point for all the food you keep giving me to deliver to my family."

his eyebrows wiggled, impish as he suggested, "perhaps you could persuade his imperial majesty to collaborate with our precious tailor, he changxi, or better yet, converse with him directly regarding my situation because i have already produced several designs for the choosing ceremony, and i wish to extend past the realm of kitchen-work."

earning an amiable scoff, the girl departed from the bustling kitchen, encountering the two scholar-officials, thrusting two parcels into her arms—jianjiang remarked, "for scholars, i am surprised that you two neglected that i have no place to store these lovely gifts, as much as i appreciate them."

"your younger sister, she has an affinity towards orchid flowers, and i found something during my trip to the market," guan yue, the shorter of the two men, explained, and jia yi agreed with a nod, sheepish grins on their cute countenances, and jianjiang reciprocated the action, making her appear more youthful on her otherwise imposing features.

"i will heed that, jia yi, guan yue," she murmured, trekking to the stables to borrow the palomino jia yi rode and owned, storing the packages in the leather satchel and preparing to depart from the red and gold walls, stopping upon hearing the persistent voice she had been desperate to avoid for the past few weeks.

"jianjiang, please," the emperor called, hastening his pace to stop in front of her, somewhat panting as she stared at him interrogatively, beseeching, "allow me to come with you."

for the second instance, her amber eyes pierced dark ones, arms crossed in borderline-hostility as both sides attempted to intimidate the other while resisting the temptation to admire their defining features; "why?" she questioned, doubtful and suspicious of his intentions, praying that they were not to seduce her or the like.

"you said so yourself: the only way to create beneficial solutions to the problems of your nation is to understand them," he shrugged haplessly, the perfunctory nature of the conversation vexing and perplexing her simultaneously, something jianjiang decided to comment on (even if it could potentially cost her her job).

"yes; however, I presumed you were not going to take it literally, considering you have plenty of gentlemen at your disposal to record those details for you, scholars guan yue and jia yi being notable examples," she remarked coolly, unwavering and blunt.

mingming effortlessly responded, "though you are a woman, and recollections in the imperial palace tend to be heavily skewed towards the men—besides, memories are not as reliable as firsthand experience, as we both are aware."

after a moment of considering her options, jianjiang gritted, "fine, though i suggest you change your garb," engendering a confused glance from the monarch that she would have perceived to be endearing had she not been annoyed, "it makes you conspicuous, and the purpose of this particular expedition is to become an apparition, an observer into a fantastical world you know nothing of, much like the reader of a particularly engaging tale."

upon her statement, Mingming noted her appearance: gone was any semblance of cool-toned colors against a white backdrop, with the woman exchanging her work attire for dark pants and a long-sleeved dress, an inky mantle shrouding her lean legs and freckled visage as she raised the hood to sheath herself from his figure, stroking the palomino as the emperor eventually returned in something she knew he peculated from zhenning, having recognized it from his family crest located inside the back flap.

it was upon their departure that mingming established why jianjiang was able to appear effortless as escaped her residence for the day, why her footsteps were weightless against even the sturdiest of floors, why her ears and mind were capable of reaping prized secrets, why her eyes spoke more than her lips ever would: because chen jianjiang was the apparition of the imperial palace, a mere observer into the luxury and intrigue within its confines.

the journey was silent, with the younger following the path with practiced ease and the older relishing the natural scenery of trees and dirt, sights foreign to him as he marveled in its beauty like a newborn determined to experience everything like a young child upon seeing the beautiful luxuries of the empire. they crossed a market, one that jianjiang frequently stopped at before the cacophony of haggling and chaos truly began, though they observed as their steeds trodded against the soft earth and heard the chatter of weather, family, the corrupt officials alongside idle prattling and economic affairs. gently forcing the creature to speed up, the monarch and attendant sidled past the stalls and vendors and into her village, agile in her movements as she detached herself from the palomino and directed them to a bamboo house sequestered from the boroughs of the merchant class, reining the horses to a post in the makeshift stables.

lighting the oil lamp as she entered, jianjiang set down the parcels onto the rickety table, before hearing a muffled, enthusiastic cheer from a smaller figure as they slammed themselves into her lithe figure, "jianjiang, you came home!"

"of course i did, mingjiang—look at how big you are the last i saw you," the elder replied with chronic casualness, tone devoid of the scathing frostiness upon conversing with the noble ladies and emperor, replaced with a loving undertone and radiant beam, her facade vanishing in the presence of her younger sister.

from what mingming could speculate from his position in the corner and childhood memories, the two siblings presented themselves as a syzygy, with the elder inheriting her willowy physique and sharp eyes and bone structure from her father, while the younger resembled their mother with her fuller cheeks and shorter stature, though he presumed she was continuing to grow. however, both of their skin shared the same pallor, despite one having scars dotted on their face and the other without, yet, the monarch found their contrast endearing as their mother, an aged, frail woman with the warm ebony eyes and acorn skin from working in the heat for extended periods. "welcome home, jianjiang," she greeted, her eldest daughter embracing her fragilely as they arrived at the eating table, jianjiang passing them breakfast, and mingming allowed the signature scent of imperial buns waft into his nose.

"jingyi had to become a prostitute," her mother reported as jianjiang rummaged the cupboards, a content sigh escaping her lips when her fingers grazed the container containing the remaining tea leaves, pouring its contents into a pot with hot water, allowing it to brew as she momentarily glanced at his imperial majesty, stock-still as he absorbed the information her mother relayed, "the taxes were too much on her family, and they caned her father for attempting to steal rice."

jianjiang kept silent, passing her mother and sister the tea as mingjiang excitedly unwrapped the gifts the two scholars delivered, a gleeful beam as she inspected the white orchid hairpins, her eyes widening as she wordlessly begged her sister to style her hair. "twelve years of age and already wanting to be presentable for marriage," the handmaiden teased, "father would be disappointed in you for attempting to learn so young."

posture upright, jianjiang moved to mingming, interlacing their fingers as she briefly informed her mother that she would be leaving for a brief while, leading him to a narrow dirt path, the atmosphere desolate and empty of villagers, piquing the interest of the young monarch—"heed my warning: do not, under any circumstance, intervene in any squabbles, for they will not result in your favor, and we cannot afford a scar on that desirable countenance," the girl cautioned, brushing a portentous chill as she pulled the hood of her mantle up once more. In spite of his compliant nod, the man acknowledged the quasi-backhanded compliment, embracing that perhaps chen jianjiang was more pleasant than she preferred exhibiting, but, as the residents of the imperial palace approached the plaza, his initial glee transmuted into bewilderment.

the screeches and dissonance were deafening, the conversation escalating into a physical altercation as two men, dirty caking their face as they began to exchange punches, one easily overpowering the other, the stringent scent of blood permeating the circle instead of the equally pungent body odor from having not washed in nearly months. from their peripheral vision, mingming noted the return of her stoicism, almost numb to the occurrences, while she forced him to absorb the image, squeezing his hand to provide some commiseration in spite of her outward apathy toward it all, and the monarch reciprocating the action in anguish. neither of them could suppress the wince as the sonorous intonation of a slice of a throat with a meat cleaver, a grimace marring her face as her eyelashes fluttered shut, and his face contorting in melancholy as the victor trudged past the defeated, his grimy, bloodstained fingers reaching for the fluffy bowl of rice, the crowd dispersing immediately after.

"you can open your eyes, your imperial majesty," jianjiang breathed, craning her head to peer at the visibly shaken emperor, who exhaled as he mimicked her actions, "the killing is not the worst—the necrosis that becomes of the corpse is, as men will not bury common folk like us like they would royalty. If he is fortunate, they will transfer his body to the forest, mostly to spare their olfactory senses from inhaling the fragrance of decomposing human, or if not, he will merely rot, a constant reminder of the squalor that has become law; perhaps it would be better to be born a vulture, for at least they do not starve, do not kill for food, do not live as we do." maneuvering them to the local apothecary, the villager swiftly pulled some currency from her recent wage to pay for several commodities that mingming could briefly discern the herbs and remedies: ginger for osteoarthritis, astragalus for fatigue, indian pennywort for blood circulation, and red sage for cardiovascular issues.

"my mother, when she was pregnant with me, contracted plague, and it was a miracle she managed to give birth to me and survive afterward; of course, she healed, but it deteriorated her health and even further following mingjiang," jianjiang contextualized as they ventured back to her small living space, "it helped when my father was in the military, as his wages were exponentially higher than mine from his position, but now i worry for mingjiang, about her education, about her future after our mother, because she, like many other women, cannot become a prostitute—she is too bright for that."

the emperor considered her last notion carefully, noting that in the hour that the two were not present, her younger sister had managed to decipher a method to replicate the chain of flowers her sister braided from her silver tresses, albeit messier than how jianjiang traditionally did hers, though they all realized that the latter has years of experience performing that particular hairstyle on herself and the various women she serviced.

"jianjiang," her mother called, "you should not have to purchase such things with your money; you should be spending it on luxuries that you would want to have."

"mother, there is nothing i could want for myself, except for maybe some cosmetics," she quipped, eyes twinkling with jovialty, "these are the only things i can consider purchasing without warranting judgmental stares from merchants."

"have you considered that it is less due to your gender and more due to the striking resemblance between you and your father, which also includes your personalities, might i add," her mother remarked smartly before bursting into a coughing fit, with the young emperor fondly recalling the occasions that he spoke with general chen, now recognizing the identical mannerisms and speech patterns, “besides, as much as i love your visits, i believe you have to end this one early with your...noble guest."

mingjiang peered at the aged woman, who knowingly beamed, warm and nurturing, "i could recognize that countenance anywhere, you resemble your mother with those feline features, and i would presume your lack of presence would arouse suspicion among your palace subjects, your imperial majesty, so please, while i appreciated your company, i believe you should return home."

"thank you for your hospitality," the boy bowed, allowing the three women to bid their farewells, laughing at a comment directed towards the eldest child and her current lack of significant other before the two of mounting their steeds and trotted back to the imperial palace.

"jainjiang," he called as they slipped past the gates and into the stables, dismounting their horses and returning them to their stalls after a thorough brushing, "thank for you today."

a surprised hum, lilting and airy, breathed past her as she stared at him, her eyes boring into his with less contempt and something akin to fondness, her voice less of a bitter icicle and more of a fresh snowflake falling onto the ground as she replied, "it was nothing, your imperial majesty," and the ruler beamed, sun rays radiating from how luminescent his smile was.

"mingming," he requested, "call me mingming when it is only you and i, please."

"of course...mingming," the attendant spoke after a moment of trepidation, almost experimenting how his name felt against her lips, an inquisitive furl on her frosted lips before deciding mentally, his name was anomalous in her traditional speech pattern and vocabulary, though not necessarily unwelcome as parted ways with him.

jianjiang had developed a curiosity for remembrance rites as she grew up, memorizing the days of the year where the gentle fragrance of incense would greet her as she rose from her slumber, where her father compelled her to bow in front of the ancient writings that were the names of both maternal and paternal grandparents; much like everything, she questioned nothing unless in dire emergency, respecting her father and his colorful history as a former slave.

the day she asked, general chen, sat her on his lap, eyes affectionate as he spoke, "others will never remember people like us—commoners—after our death, and thus, it is the job of the family to retain that memory of you, the life you lived, as history will only remember the victors, the emperors, the men who reigned power, though never the commoners."

the girl resumed her work upon the lesson, ingraining it into her cognizance as she washed the linens in the imperial palace, interrupted upon chunyang summoning her to find the rotting corpse of her father, and chen jianjiang realized she would have to memorize another date to light another pair of incense for on her altar.

the palace temple was colder and more ornate than to her liking, but the handmaiden recognized it would have to suffice given her return and the steady shower of rain that inhibited her from traveling on smooth dirt roads; nevertheless, her fingernails plucked a couple of incense resting in precarious proximity to the lantern flame, lighting them with a practiced flourish of her wrist and kneeling in the center of the temple.

her lips recited the prayer of safe passage, and she bowed before placing the burning sticks into the ash bowl, returning to her position to converse with him, recanting instances between her and several members of the staff, voice faltering with each one until jianjiang felt a warm liquid smatter itself against the palm of her hand, another falling subsequent until she whispered into the unforgiving rain, "i miss you, father."

due to the rain, mingming was unable to sleep peacefully, and, groggily, he made a trudge towards the temple in closest proximity, eyes jolting awake at another presence kneeling in the biting cold, and though he remained unsurprised at it being the silver-haired attendant, he was at the subtle quiver of her otherwise confident stature. opting to kneel beside her, he mumbled, "it is hard to remember that underneath all of your prickliness and hardened demeanor, you are a woman who lost her father young, taken from her family young, and became a self-preservationist young—your father would be proud of you for becoming the woman you are."

"it becomes difficult when i have nobody to trust to provide counsel for me when i become conflicted or perplexed, though i suppose he is content now that he can live without witnessing any more bloodshed and carnage—he deserves at least that much for his service to the empire," jianjiang parleyed, "there is much that I would give to see him one last time."

sniffling the stray tears away, the girl stood, reverting to her upright posture before staring at the ground in his direction, "my apologies, your imperial ma—i mean, mingming—for crying in your presence, for it is rather improper."

"blasphemy: crying is not a sign of weakness, jianjiang, but a sign of humanity," the emperor rationalized, "something you have a particular proclivity for hiding in the presence of everybody except our favorite messenger, hu chunyang," evoking a warm giggle from her otherwise frozen lips.

"are you attempting to provide comfort for me, or are you legitimately jealous of the messenger boy?" she mused, peering up to inspect his expression, only to have him press his lips to hers the instant she did so, tugging her closer in proximity as his hands found purchase on her waist.

her mind reeled as he kissed her, something that perhaps would have been more romantic lest she was in a more dignified position than a handmaiden towards the two rivaling concubines in his harem, though she granted him clemency and herself a moment of selfishness as she reciprocated the action harder, maneuvering herself on the tips of her toes to provide better vantage and chiding, "in a temple of all places?"

"well, as the most powerful man in china, i suppose i am allowed to break several for your sake," mingming surmised, pulling away to brush a damp strand of hair behind her ear to admire the imprints on her countenance before elaborating, "because whenever i am in your company, i feel the most myself i have felt in my entire life."

"flirtatious much?" jianjiang snarked, though allowing him to lead her back to his chambers, allowing him to worship her as if she was the empress, allowing him to make her feel foreign sensations everywhere, and allowing him to embrace her after debauching her, knowing that by sunrise, she would be merely a servant, and her escape from the stresses and strains in her life would cease.

upon the approach of the sunrise, when she knew he fell asleep, she rose from the soft sheets, pressing her lips towards his forehead, whispering the softest farewells, granting herself the selfishness to view his content beam before pattering off to the servants quarters, unpinning her hair and storing them all away to safeguard as she tousled her hair to cascade in unrefined waves.

"where were you yesterday, jianjiang?" lady zhou demanded as she plaited the inky tresses with a dainty practice, "you should be fortunate that I did not report such errors to the emperor, you ingrate."

"family matters," the attendant dismissed coldly, finishing her style with a flourish of finality, "i shall be taking my leave now, lady zhou, if you no longer require me or my services."

"i beg your pardon, but you laid with, unquestionably, the most powerful man in the empire?" changxi and youwei inquired simultaneously as the trio began sewing, chunyang jolting up in bewilderment at the semi-embarrassed confession between the group, the previous bashfulness on her countenance transmuting into a vicious hiss, eyes steely at their sonorous voices.

"perhaps you should keep that information within these walls before I decide to murder you with the lovely shears in your grip, shuaihong—do not think i am merely speaking empty words," the woman threatened, reverting to a bright smile upon instilling some terror into the two tailors (youwei beginning to bide his time thereupon a whispering jianjiang delivered to changxi, who arrived into the kitchens to personally inform him of his newfound mentorship underneath the experienced tailor).

"please excuse our excitement, dearest jianjiang; it is just that after the instance with li zhenning, we have never seen you so...willing to let yourself be loved," chunyang elaborated kindly, fingers brushing through her silver mane absentmindedly, "you have always serviced others, but never yourself."

"it will become meaningless in two weeks when his imperial majesty chooses a concubine to become the empress of china, and i will merely continue to serve her as i served the women preceding them," the handmaiden deadpanned, "i know better than to delude myself with visions of grandeur, and besides, with this occupation, at least i reap monetary benefits." her eyes, ever-so-observant, noted the sketch on the leaflet in between her and the designers, eyes curious at the unusual choice in colors: inky black silk with mint cream and viridian peonies cascading in a diagonal waterfall, something too macabre for daily wear, despite appreciating its charm. "that design, who is it for?" she queried before her eyes flickered over to her nails, painted the former green and encrusted with identically-tinted mica flakes, rolling her eyes at youwei and his blazon fountain of inspiration.

"for you at the choosing ceremony—it consists of ultimately neutral colors that do not express favor for either faction, as you mentioned that lady cheng is fond of her lavenders and silvers, while lady zhou prefers her light turquoises and golds," changxi rationalized, "and youwei was insistent on sketching out the designs from the fabric our favorite weaver crafted, as well knowing your measurements from your daily excursions to the kitchens."

"this dress is the same length as your uniform, though with the addition of long sleeves, and the pants will be slightly longer than usual, though it should not be an issue when you wear shoes with height; as all the attendants must wear black, hanyu immediately began concocting a floral pattern that personified you at its finest, and he should be finished with it today for the pair of us to begin starting," the other man concluded with an accomplished gleam.

"jianjiang, have you ever contemplated the idea of marriage, in all seriousness?" chunyang wondered, "considering that you just laid with his imperial majesty, it would technically place you as the most desirable woman in the imperial palace—okay, jianjiang, please stop hitting me with the pillow!"

the female acquiesced, squeezing the pillow as she muttered, "aside from the ill-timed remark, i would say no, because, for some peculiar reason, my cognizance refuses to relieve itself of the notion that I will die unmarried following the childhood prophecy this seer made after noticing my premature silvering."

"you laid with who, jianjiang?" a voice asked abruptly, everybody abandoning their current duties and grabbing the nearest weapon (or projectile) to prepare to attack the interloper with, the fact that it was li zhenning sending them into more of a fiery panic, although chunyang slowly lowered his object of choice (a basket), gaze wary as he spoke for the quartet, "how much of that conversation did you eavesdrop on?"

"not much, i promise," he fretted, his eyes combating the amber glower, "but, if i may, i would like to tell you that you were never some mistake to his imperial majesty, jianjiang; he speaks of you incessantly when he was curious about you, and o have never seen as content as he was this morning, escape included. he is particularly fond of your temperament, your honesty, and not to mention, your company, as with every encounter he shares with you, a lilt is present in his gait, which should not be as endearing as it should be."

"but, are you willing to wager anything on which concubine his imperial majesty chooses in a fortnight?" jianjiang jested, eyes glinting in recklessness, daring him to challenge her for a fickle option, "because if i were him, i would abstain from choosing any of them, and i would wager twenty ingots on that."

"twenty ingots that he chooses lady zhou, then," chunyang engaged, "presumably, she is driven and goal-oriented, and his imperial majesty needs a strong ruler beside him, and lady zhou wields that particular skill set given her educational background and family history with her father being a high-standing official."

"however, to contradict your—very valid—argument, chunyang, lady zhou, despite her shrewdness and many political connections, does not have public favor, which lady cheng does have," changxi rebutted smartly, "according to scholar jia yi, the latter is considerably more likable according to a poll he took in his village, of which the consensus concluded that lady zhou appears too volatile for the mild-mannered emperor."

zhenning, perceptive as always, interjected, "jianjiang does present a righteous concern, though: both women are almost equally unfavorable as the other given that lady cheng cannot alleviate herself from her incessant insecurities and lady zhou cannot keep her temperamental demeanor in check, and his imperial majesty needs stability." the unspoken question reverberated through the air, and the quintet could only silently wonder about the upcoming events and stresses of planning, executing, and tending to every minuscule, the portentous omen of change looming near as they all exchanged glances and glimmers between them.

the fortnight had passed, and jianjiang had remained awake the entire night to admire the river of golden waters, watching the sunrise before meandering her way to the chambers of lady cheng xiao, who glowed in happiness at her presence, allowing her to pull the upper half of her hair into a roll, clipping a set of large, lavender flowers into the right side of the coil, a silver stick across with the shaking pendants on the opposing end of the flowers, another stick behind the latter, and a comb on the forehead with identical floral and silver arrangements. dusting on the matching tint of eyeshadow, jianjiang applied a brown to morph the bright color into a more softened hue, painting a thin line of black ink across her eyes, pulling away to inspect the final touches before returning the materials to the vanity, watching the concubine stand with an air of dainty poise, and the handmaiden allowed herself a moment to admire the dress.

a sleeveless number with a sweetheart neckline, there was a row of flowers decorating the upper half of the bodice, with a trim of the same pattern, the front flap split into with the back remaining intact, and she wore a sleeved train with a high collar, her arms fitting through the provided holes; "you look stunning, lady cheng," she praised, earnest in her tone, refraining from lingering any longer, footsteps noiseless as she made the walk towards the other bedchambers to an expectant lady zhou.

as jianjiang worked at rolling and plaiting her hair into a linear shape with a braid at the bottom of her head, pinning smaller flowers on her right, a hairpin with an ornate head and fringes, a second stick with less lavish design, and a clip at the back of her head; upon noting that the other attendants completed her makeup and dress (a light turquoise and gold fashioned in almost identical manner to that of lady cheng xiao, though the train was more of a cape rather than a cloak), jianjiang bowed lowly as she escaped the litany of curses that reverberated in the bedchambers.

briefly encountered a mirthful chunyang, whom she surreptitiously rolled her eyes at, the handmaiden returned to the servants quarters to find the completed raiments on her cot, complete with the mandatory scrap veil and straw hat required for handmaidens—specifically chosen ones—to wear in attendance with their respective ladies (and the empress dowager). twisting her hair into a roll, jianjiang secured the straw hat and veil and fastened on her shoes, struggling to properly balance herself as she walked towards the empress dowager, internally cursing herself for appearing to be a newborn doe, yet she arrived and held on the train dutifully, silently appreciative of the slower pace the secondary monarch adopted to help her adjust to the unfamiliar footwear.

"i recall struggling the first time i wore those, jianjiang," the empress dowager remarked with fond mirth, "i believe i nearly tripped in the presence of his imperial majesty when i was to serve the current empress dowager, and he caught me at my knees just before i crumbled to the ground; that was the day i became enamored with him."

"it is an unusual thing," the handmaiden surmised, "being able to hear your footsteps for the first time—my father had raised me to be stealthy, hence the ability to induce shock upon approaching others with their back towards you, but it is an acquired noise like everything foreign, i suppose." neither spoke afterward, approaching the throne with ease, and jianjiang flourished the train of vermilion fabric onto the ground neatly, standing behind the woman as she vaguely saw the other women arrive inside the grand hall, a gentle sigh escaping her unpainted lips as she witnessed the harem infighting (mostly through the eunuchs), though understanding it was futile to intervene.

upon the arrival of his imperial majesty, everybody present began to bow in respect, before the emperor bowed in return to his mother, who nodded as he faced the concubines, he felt conflicted at having to decide; mingming decided to approach the center, allowing lady cheng xiao to broach the distance, kissing her hand politely, and she appeared embarrassed at his gesture, quickly brought to an end as lady zhou touched his shoulder faintly, beckoning him to pay her some attention, though he brushed her off, returning his gaze to the soft-spoken concubine before whispering, "my most sincere apologies to you, lady cheng." he parted from them, despair in both of their eyes (with the addition of offense in lady zhou) as he strode past them, peeking under the veils of the other attendants before peering upward at his mother.

most peculiarly, his mother, a woman of reassurance and wonder, had a knowing glint in her eyes, slightly nudging her in the direction behind her, evoking an inquisitive glimmer that betrayed his sangfroid, though he followed as she suggested, inspecting the attendant standing at the end of the train of fabric before removing her veil, beaming as he whispered, "there you are, my love." allowing her to remove her accessories, she slid her empty hand into his as they marched to face his subjects, raising their interlaced fingers above them as their audience bowed in reluctance at the woman emperor yao mingming would eventually crown as the empress of china.

in spite of her confident gait and perfunctory smirk, chen jianjiang was appalled, masking such emotion to the best of her ability, though she caught the eye of general li, who detected the flicker of nervousness in her amber orbs, though he decided to never broach the subject until after the ceremony, understanding that she probably would never tell him.

the transition from being the palace ghost to the second-most powerful woman in china induced severe whiplash in the former attendant, who found herself in more company with yao mingming than ever before, whose explanation regarding selecting her warmed her heart: "you have experienced the realities of squalor, and i need that if i am going to require that for my reign—and also, the prospect of having to pick between two conflicting women does not seem like it will end well in the future."

"i presume you hypothesize cold-blooded murder on the coronation ceremony, given how intense their rivalry is now," jianjiang lilted as they admired the river, "although, i suppose that should be a given considering their titles."

the remark piqued his interest, craning his body to stare at his future wife with curiosity, inquiring, "what happened to them if you said that their rivalry is fierce now?" knowing that jianjiang knew the answer, whether she chose to reveal it to him or not.

"the palace changes people, mingming, as you and i are aware—i heard that the two used be close, but again, love in the imperial palace can lead to the most drastic consequences, but overall, it was a chain of events, and general zhou passed away, so i presume lady zhou took his passing as harshly as i did," she explained.

"are you insinuating that residence can extricate the worst qualities in people, my love?" mingming chided playfully, pressing his lips to her forehead with the most gentle of brushes, "because you appear relatively unscathed from the brunt of exposure."

"please do not romanticize my demeanor towards you; as i recall, my first encounter with you consisted of the worst manners a servant could present, not to mention, i gave you an out-of-place lecture, and you had never met my genuine self until after the tongue-lashing."

mingming was excellent to her, jianjiang realized, being effortlessly patient with her as she struggled to adjust to her newfound status (she would never get used to the notion of people bowing to her), and allowing her to voice her input in political matters, much to the shock of the majority of officials, whose scathing remarks were silenced with the emperor asserting, "she holds unprecedented amounts of knowledge as a woman who lived in the derelict villages; i suggest you heed her words wisely."

"that ingrate, what did she do to earn his heart so easily?" lady zhou grumbled as she spectated their gentle kisses and effortless laughter that carried with the light breeze rustling through the evening, her lips curled into a fuming scowl, "she was never a concubine to begin—no esteem, no money, no status, and in several days, she will become the most powerful woman in china."

"lady zhou, please, i believe we should just leave the issue to rest," lady cheng xiao pleaded, "his imperial majesty appears happy, happier than when he is in company with either of us and if she makes him happy, then so be it, because i would rather be a second choice than have him resent me for the rest of my life."

"are you even listening to yourself, cheng xiao: since when have you cared for jianjiang, aside from using her to unsuccessfully reap information regarding anything that would be somewhat helpful to seducing the emperor?" jieqiong snapped, before composing her tone to sound more even, "besides, you said it yourself that he is already happiest in her presence, so imagine how happy you can make him."

"if you are insinuating what i surmise you are insinuating, jieqiong..." cheng xiao started, though the sentence faltered before it had the opportunity to finish itself, and jieqiong smirked, vermillion lips making her seem more nefarious than intended.

jianjiang, in a moment of vanity, admired her reflection in the mirror, deciding that she had never felt more elegant at that moment than her entire life: the gown trailed to the floor, constructed of crushed dragon blood silk and finely crafted rose gold, embellished with cherry blossoms because hanyu insisted that every empress had a consistent feature, and i am adamant on yours being flowers, an argument she refused to engage it to appease his creative soul. her makeup was equally such, her lips painted to match the shade of her coronation gown, eyes coated with varying reds and pinks to appear striking, eyeliner winged to give semblance to a feline, and complexion dusted to remove the various scars she earned from training with general li and her father (all of which never healed properly), and her lashes fluttered with every blink reminiscent to phoenix wings.

"it is time," she heard zhenning inform, and jianjiang rose, exhaling deeply as the woman adjusted her posture—right clasped over left at her ribs—before following the designated trail, courteously bowing to the royal adviser, who shared a gleam of pride as she strutted past him, her gait confident as she walked past commoners, who bowed lowly in respect at one of their own ascending the throne, the tailors, weaver, and messenger, who glowed in exuberance as the long sleeves brushed them breezily, the two scholars, who would have leaped in joy had they not been in public, her mother and sister, who attempted to conceal their tears at the prospect of their eldest marrying, and general li, who fondly bowed in respect before she arrived in front of mingming, who greeted her with a bow of his own before they both kneeled in front of the empress dowager.

"do you, chen jianjiang, daughter of chen jianhong, swear to rule the empire justly and fairly and to the best of your ability?" the woman proclaimed, voice powerful and speculative as she recited the words.

"i do," jianjiang informed, craning her head downwards as she continued the phrase throughout the various vows and precepts expected of her, her confidence progressively growing as she responded to the prompts.

"very well: i, liao mingwen, empress dowager, crown chen jianjiang as the empress of china; may you rule with honor and pride," the elder declared, and jianjiang felt the weight of the phoenix coronet on her head, several tassels brushing her cheek as she rose to her feet, gaze steely and head high until everything occurred in a blur, and she collapsed onto the ground in excruciating pain, evoking lurid gasps and a broken wail.

"jianjiang," mingming cried, cradling her head and fingers in his arms as he watched her weakly tug the arrow that made its trajectory at her abdomen and the dragon blood silk darken with the blood of her own, tears escaping his feline eyes, "my love, please, stay with me, please."

"my most sincere apologies, mingming," the woman breathed, a gentle smile on her face as she struggled to brush the salty liquid away, "promise me something, mingming."

"anything, my love," he whispered, hearing the snap of her favorite double-stranded hairpin as she mumbled an almost incoherent phrase against his lips, though he caught it, all the same, pressing her lips onto his in a languid, leisurely cadence before she pulled away with one final beam of content warmth as she whispered, "i love you, mingming��remember that always."

as the pool of blood grew in diameter, jianjiang felt reminiscent of being submerged underwater, as the commotion grew nebulochaotic to all her senses, the last cloudless image being the tear stricken countenance of the emperor until everything stilled and graduated into a white fog.

mingming allowed himself to shed his final tears at her glassy orbs, yet serene expression, before pressing his fingers to her eyelids and closing them with the lightest of motions; craning his head innocuously, he caught eye contact with a satisfied lady zhou and mortified lady cheng, maintaining an even edge to his voice as he commanded, "send them to the cold palace."

"wait, your imperial majesty, please," lady cheng beseeched, "we had never meant to inflict such pain on you; i was merely an accomplice to her schemes."

"well, then you should have considered said repercussions before agreeing to become an accomplice in the assassination of the empress—general li, please escort them to their new residence," the man reported tersely towards the general while upholding his gaze at the two women, the latter nodding as he led them through familiar corridors into an unfamiliar location, equally as regal as the entirety of the palace, though sequestered from the main buildings.

upon his departure, lady cheng slumped against the wall, her eyes anomalously fiery with frustration, while lady zhou simpered, "is this our fate, then, cheng xiao: to live and kill each other with our hatred, because if so, perhaps jianjiang would be correct in her hypothesis that we would become hell to the other."

"perhaps so, jieqiong," the other woman snapped, silence permeating the frigid room as the two concubines eyed each other malevolently.

meanwhile, as mingming requested for eunuchs to move jianjiang to a private location, he took note of the object now in his clutches: one strand of her beloved hairpin, pristine and unstained with the vermilion liquid, a forlorn grin curling his petal-esque lips at her subtle message.

in his forty-five-year reign, emperor yao mingming ushered in an age of peace and prosperity into china, reorganizing taxes as well as enacting a series of edicts that allowed for women to not only take the civil service exam but also to engage in politics and literature as prominent figures; often referred to as the chen edicts, historians speculate that emperor yao created them as a promise to his deceased wife, chen jianjiang, who was an advocate for the advancement of women in the empire. yao mingming never married nor had any concubines during his rule, dismissing the members in his harem and ruling without a wife—according to royal scholars jia yi and guan yue, the monarch refused to marry out of the guilt of losing his first love young.

upon his looming death, the empire emerged into a panic due to the lack of a successor; however, emperor yao announced that his young cousin, wen yechen, would ascend the throne, and the latter aided in continuing the age of prosperity and contentment his predecessor implemented. his final wishes to his trusted advisers were for them to bury him in the river of golden waters, where he occupied the majority of leisure time and became the resting place of his lover.

the mist obstructed his vision as he traipsed along the road aimlessly, swinging his hair as to brush away the descending cherry blossoms onto his dark locks, sighing as the fog cleared to reveal a scenery resembling the location he tended to admire, before noticing the figure standing with their hands outstretched on the rails and head leaning on their right shoulder.

she turned, approaching the man with a mirthful curl of her lips and unperturbed gait as she spoke upon facing him, "yao mingming, it has been a long time."

"indeed it has," he responded calmly, poorly concealing his joviality as he tugged her into his embrace, evoking a mellifluous giggle from the pair as their lips collided, soft and languid with love penetrating through it all, "it has been a solemn journey."

unbeknownst to them, the two halves of the one pin swayed and chimed with the breeze, latching onto each other in completion as their owners finally reunited and complete underneath the cascading cherry blossoms and rushing river.

#yao mingming #unine #qing chun you ni #qcyn #unine imagine #unine scenarios #unine oneshot #mingming #mingming imagine #mingming scenario #mingming oneshot #unine au #zhou jieqiong #zhang yixing #cheng xiao

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gamerwoo · 6 years ago

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Mingming: I Don’t Dance

Anonymous asked: what if i just,, requested mingming fluff,, is this allowed

Characters: Mingming x gender neutral reader (featuring UNINE)

Genre/warnings: soulmate au, dancer au, college au, fluff, slight crack, even slighter angst

Word count: 7,509

Summary: In which you sometimes do what your soulmate is doing at the exact same time. So you always hated dancing until you found out your soulmate was good at it.

a/n: this wasn’t looked over, so I apologize for any errors that’re in it, and I apologize if I accidentally use she/her pronouns because that’s what I’m used to but I tried my best to keep it gender neutral (and I know some of y’all will read this and be like “how come reader never did what Mingming did when they were alone and vice versa” and it’s because if that happened, the story would be shorter and wouldn’t go how I wanted to so let me live 😤😤)

It started when you were 15. Your body would start doing things you weren’t telling it to, and you couldn’t stop it, either. You’d suddenly start moving your hand in writing motions while you were just sitting on the bus, or you’d find yourself miming throwing a ball in the middle of the school hallway. But that was how you knew your soulmate was out there, so you couldn’t complain.

You could complain when you turned 16 and it only got worse.

Growing up, you were a clumsy kid. You hated anything that required any sort of coordination and you did your best to avoid anything and everything that would embarrass you -- save for gym where you just tried your best not to draw attention to yourself.

But when you turned 16 -- god, did it get worse. You found yourself dancing -- full on dancing -- in the hallway or in class or walking home. Your soulmate was just always fucking dancing and you hated it because you’d trip over your own two feet immediately after your body was back in your own control.

Thankfully, by the time college came around, you’d gotten used to this. You’d actually even gotten slightly more coordinated -- emphasis on slightly. You still tripped and slipped up sometimes, but you were better than you were before. And...you kind of got used to the sudden dancing. People would commend you on it and it made you feel validated and talented. So the dancing was something you could definitely deal with. You still didn’t like it and you were bad at it, but you could put up with it.

Your soulmate, however, never got used to your odd movements. Falling over during practice, randomly tripping over nothing, and suddenly getting wobbly were things that were difficult to work around as a dancer. Especially in college when he formed a dance team with a few of his friends.

“Nice one,” Guanyue snorted when Mingming suddenly spun around and fell right on his butt in the middle of working on a certain part in the choreography.

Mingming just huffed, staying in his spot on the floor, “This is impossible.”

“Kind of ironic how you got a soulmate who can’t even stand upright,” Jiayi giggled.

“It’s not funny,” Mingming whined, his hands covering his face as he let himself lay on his back. “How can I be a professional dancer if I suddenly trip up in the middle of a dance?”

Mingming wasn’t upset with you or anything, he just was upset with the situation. He hoped that his soulmate would, y’know, get better at walking, but over the years, very little seemed to change. Sure, he didn’t fall over as often, but it was still more often than he’d like.

“At least you’re not stuck trying to do splits out of nowhere like Jiayi,” Hanyu deadpanned, though the hints of a smirk were on his face when he looked over at the boy in question.

Jiayi’s soulmate was some sort of gymnast or cheerleader or something because the poor boy was always stuck trying to bend his body in ways that simply weren’t possible for him.

“I’m getting bendier,” Jiayi insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mingming pushed himself to sit up again, staring at himself in the mirror across the room, “I just wish...I could do something to help them. They’re probably suffering way more than me.”

“When you meet them, you can re-teach them how to walk,” Zhenning joked as he helped Mingming back to his feet. “Let’s just try that part again, yeah?”

Little did Mingming know that his chance to not only help himself but help you was coming a lot quicker than he thought.

DANCERS WANTED FOR DANCE GROUP

No experience needed

Please come to UNINE Dance Studio this Saturday at noon

It was a bright pink flyer with big, black, bold writing on it that caught your attention. But you didn’t plan on doing anything with it. You simply read it since it caught your eye, but that was--

“Hey,” a boy with a bright smile -- albeit, a little shy -- said as he walked up to you.

--...it.

“I’m sorry if this is really weird,” he began with a shy laugh, running a hand through his dark brown hair. “I just saw you reading the flyer and my friends are like, really hoping for people to come so--”

“You posted these?” you asked, gesturing to the flyer.

“Well, me and my friends. We’re dancers and...yeah... Basically, I just walked over here to convince you to go.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “Sorry, but I’m not a dancer.”

“Anybody’s a dancer,” he shrugged with a hopeful smile. “You just have to be able to move and memorize things.”

“Not if you fall over ever two seconds.”

“Trust me, I’m used to that,” he laughed.

“What, you fall over?”

“Sometimes.”

You gave a little pout, “Well now you’re just saying things to convince me.”

“I am not!” he insisted with a light laugh. “I can prove it if you come by on Saturday...?”

You frowned, looking between the paper and the cute boy giving you a pleading smile. It didn’t help that he made your stupid heart flutter when he looked at you like that -- or looked at you in general.

“Fine,” you sighed.

You could see the way his eyes lit up with excitement, crinkling in the corners as his smile widened.

“Thank you! Seriously, thank you!” he said, bowing to you. “Oh, um, my name’s Mingming, by the way -- Yao Mingming. I’ll...be there. Well, obviously -- you knew that. Sorry...”

“Ah, sorry about him,” another boy around Mingming’s height with a goofy smile came up behind him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “He’s a little awkward. Anyway, thank you. We’ll see you Saturday.”

As Mingming was dragged off shouting ‘Jiayi, were you listening the whole time?!’ you were left standing there by the wall the flyer was taped to, giving an awkward wave and a mumbled, “Alright, bye...”

When Saturday rolled around, you found yourself opening the doors to the small dance studio not too far from campus. You figured you’d probably embarrass yourself a little bit, but odds were that you wouldn’t know anybody in the studio -- well, other than the two strange boys you’d already met.

Thankfully, you were correct.

You noticed nine boys that stood toward the front of the room by the mirrors, bowing to and greeting the small crowd that was let in. There was a small handful of boys and girls alike that had seemed to come to this meeting of sorts to make this dance group.

The boys who were putting together this group seemed excited to have as many people as they did. One looked a little intimidating, another a little more serious than you expected, and another had a smile that lit up the whole room and then some. You had to admit, the group seemed a little...different from each other, but you weren’t here to judge them -- they were here to judge you.

You met the eyes of Mingming who grinned at you, giving a small wave as a thanks for coming. You just nodded and corralled together with the other people as he was nudged in the side by the boy apparently named Jiayi.

Once everybody was seated and quiet, one of the boys explained how it would work: they’d teach the group a simple dance and whoever did it well would get to stay. They planned on being a competitive team so they needed people who at least had teachable potential, which was understandable. You just hoped that your years of experience dancing because of your soulmate was enough.

“Five, six, seven, eight--”

Your body started doing the moves, but you knew you weren’t the one controlling it. It was normal to you at first since you’d experienced this so many times already, but it took a few rounds of you doing the moves to realize that this meant your soulmate was in the room. Your eyes widened as you stifled a gasp before your shock brought you back in control of your own body. You pause briefly after being brought off autopilot, and in your rush to keep up with everybody else, you tripped over your own feet, landing on the shiny hardwood floor, right on your hands and knees.

“Hang on!” one of the boys called over the commotion, catching your slip-up in the mirror. He moved through the small crowd to get to you, bending down on one knee to check on you. “Are you okay?”

You looked up into the brown eyes of Mingming as he smiled at you.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded. “Sorry for messing up.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, holding a hand out to help you up as he stood, “you were doing really well. Try it again, okay?”

You nodded again, taking his hand and letting him help you to your feet. He nodded at you before he went back to the front of the room, but your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest -- and not just from the dancing.

“Alright, let’s try again,” the more serious-looking one called out. “Five, six, seven, eight--”

Just before the group started up with the same movements again, you caught his eyes looking at you in the mirror with a flustered smile on his face.

“I think we made some good picks,” Guanyue nodded as he gathered his things into his duffel bag. “That _____ person showed a lot of potential. I think they might have a little bit of dancing experience.”

“Not a lot, though,” Youwei pointed out. “They’re the only one who fell down.”

“We’ve all been there,” Wenhan said, waving the comment away. “What’s important is that they showed potential to improve. And our first competition isn’t for two months so that’s plenty of time.”

“Plus, we now have a group of 17 people to work with,” Chunyang added in with a small shrug, “so we can always hide them if they do bad.”

“Yeah, we’ll just-- Ah! Ow!”

As Mingming went to straighten up from where he was crouched down packing his backpack, he suddenly threw his head forward, his forehead bouncing off of Chunyang’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Jiayi decided to ask with a soft giggle.

Mingming frowned, rubbing his forehead, “I have no idea.”

“I think your soulmate’s having a bad day,” Zhenning laughed, trying to lighten the mood as Mingming put his water bottle against the tiny bump forming on his forehead

Outside, you were sitting in your car alone. Your forehead was pressed against the steering wheel, a loud groan falling from your lips.

They’d really chosen you to be on their dance team.

You were screwed.

Wenhan, Guanyue, Changxi, Youwei, Zhenning, Jiayi, Hanyu, Chunyang, and Mingming. Those were the boys who had started the dance team. You weren’t really sure why they wanted to, and the only explanation they gave was “we wanted to”, but now you were apart of it.

And you were not happy.

The first practice was only two hours long, and you didn’t do well. You’d bumped into one of the girls, tripped and fell into Chunyang, and you accidentally tripped Zhenning. But truthfully, you couldn’t get your head into focusing because you knew somewhere in that dance studio was your soulmate, and that was both exciting and terrifying. All the people on the team were good dancers, and you were pretty sure they’d be embarrassed to have somebody like you who could barely dance be the person they were supposed to spend the rest of their life with.

After that practice, the nine boys that had created the dance team honestly considered kicking you off. However, Mingming saw the potential and felt bad just kicking somebody off after the first day.

“Alright, they’re your responsibility, then,” Wenhan told him a little more sternly. “You teach them and make sure they can do the routine before the competition.”

While Mingming was definitely nervous that he’d have to end up staying after a little longer with you to work one-on-one, he was determined to help you so he wouldn’t have to give you the bad news.

So he nodded, “I’ll make sure of it.”

So the next practice, you heard your name being called as everybody went to get their belongings from the back of the room. You turned back around to see Mingming standing by the mirrors, offering a shy wave and a smile. You walked over to him, stopping a few inches away.

“Y-yeah?”

“I noticed you’ve been struggling a bit with the moves we’ve learned so far,” he said with a tiny shrug, and you instantly felt embarrassment shoot through you. Were you really doing so poorly that Mingming noticed? No doubt the rest of the group must’ve noticed, too. “I figured I could offer some help.”

Even though the last thing you wanted was to stay in the studio longer than necessary to dance -- something you still weren’t completely sold on -- you figured it was that, or go through the awkwardness of quitting only two classes in.

But you had to admit, you felt a tinge of guilt keeping Mingming back in the studio, too. No doubt he had homework to do and classes to study for.

“Are you sure?” you wondered slowly. “I don’t want to burden you. You shouldn’t have to--”

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugged with a sheepish smile, his brown eyes looking elsewhere now. “I usually stay back, anyway. I like dancing so I make sure to practice as long as I can. I have about an hour of free time now, anyway.”

“O-okay...sure...”

“Cool!” he smiled, seeming a little shocked but pleased you agreed. “Okay, uh...l-let’s start from the beginning, then?”

As people started filing out of the room, Mingming started counting the steps as he slowly showed you exactly what to do. He said he wanted to get the moves down in your head before figuring out the timing. He thought maybe that doing both at once was what was confusing you during practice.

Before his eight friends left, they glanced back and watched how patient Mingming was with you. He was standing behind you and moving your arms exactly where they had to go, telling you they should always be at a certain angle for that move so everybody would match, and he hoped it would make it easier on you if he gave you an angle number to visualize in your head. Some of them quietly teased him as they left, giggling and singing “_____ and Mingming sitting in a tree--” while the others just smiled softly and followed behind the more immature members.

Mingming made good use of the whole hour, spending the whole time teaching you. You didn’t even make it up to the point the rest of the group was at, but you at least felt a little more confident in the parts he got to teach you. Definitely not 100%, but better.

However, he noticed that you seemed a little worried. He knew he didn’t make it as far into the dance as he should’ve, and he knew that you were now deemed his responsibility.

“_____?” he spoke up, causing you to turn once again as you were going to get your stuff. When you turned to look at him, you couldn’t tell if he was blushing or if his faced was just flushed from dancing, but his eyes were cast downwards. “Would you want to practice again tomorrow...? You don’t have to! It’s just that you’re not completely caught up -- not that you’re doing bad -- but I don’t want you to feel behind or like you’re lacking -- which you’re not at all -- but I just--”

“Sure, Mingming,” you sighed, too tired to come up with a response better than that.

Still, Mingming was looking at you now, a toothy grin on his face, “Cool! What time is good for you?”

“Maybe around 2?”

“Sounds good! See you tomorrow afternoon!”

You simply nodded in response before going to grab your bag. You politely wished Mingming a good night before leaving the studio, walking down the hall and out of the building to the parking lot. But as you were walking to your car, you suddenly leaped into the air and clicked your heels together, throwing your fists into the air like you were celebrating. You even jumped in an excited circle before your body was finally yours again, leaving you standing in an almost empty lot, looking around in confusion.

“I think we can cut it here for now,” Mingming panted as he nodded at you in the mirror. He’d gotten you caught up on all the moves, now he just had to work on timing next time. “What time is it?”

You went over to your stuff, pulling your phone out of your bag and laughing at how late it had gotten, “Almost 5.”

“Jeez,” Mingming laughed nervously, running a hand through his sweaty hair, “I didn’t mean to keep you here for three hours. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you shrugged, gathering your bag and hanging it off your shoulder, “I needed the practice.”

“You wanna get dinner?” he blurted.

You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked at Mingming -- who couldn’t seem to look at you, “Dinner...?”

“I just meant...y’know, since I kept you so late, and we’ve been exerting a lot so it’s good to eat after,” he quickly explained, and you were surprised he didn’t trip over his words with how fast he was talking. “It’s my treat to make up for keeping you here for so long.”

Not only could you not pass up free food, but you didn’t quite know how to tell Mingming no. Especially with the innocent look he was giving you.

“Nowhere too expensive,” you told him, a slight pout in your voice.

Mingming chuckled with a nod before he went to retrieve his own bag, “Don’t worry, I know a good place.”

“Shouldn’t we shower first?” you asked as he opened the door for you to leave first.

“Nah, I go there after practice a lot. Not many people are there, but they make amazing food.”

Once the two of you were outside, he said it was walking distance from the studio, so you left your stuff in your car before you walked side-by-side with Mingming to wherever it was he was taking you. He wouldn’t tell you where it was or what it was, but you trusted him enough to not try anything weird. He just promised you’d love the food as much as he did.

The trip was a little awkward, especially when you felt yourself lose control of your body. Thankfully, your soulmate was just walking -- presumably to class or back to their dorm -- but you were hoping you didn’t look too nervous when that happened.

You and Mingming were hardly speaking until your body was back in your control, and you tripped over your own feet when you suddenly changed back to your own walking speed. He managed to catch you before you hit the sidewalk, letting out a soft laugh as he steadied you back on your feet.

“You do that a lot, don’t you?” he joked lightly, trying to make some sort of conversation.

You shrugged, an embarrassed blush coming to your cheeks, “I’m kind of a clumsy person sometimes.”

“Don’t worry, some people are just clumsy. I’m used to experiencing it anyway.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded but didn’t elaborate. “You are doing better with staying on your feet while dancing. Let’s just hope it stays that way when we work on timing.”

He suddenly stopped outside a tiny restaurant that was on a busy strip, though people didn’t seem to be going inside. From the sign outside, you saw their specialty was soup dumplings, so you assumed that’s what you were there to eat. Mingming held the door open for you, a little bell dinging to signify customers before you went inside, Mingming following behind you.

The two of you greeted the hostess before Mingming brought you over to a table by the window. He said he always sat there -- usually with Guanyue because that’s who he often went with. The waitress smiled when she saw him and asked if he wanted his usual, to which he nodded eagerly and thanked the woman before turning back to you.

“I don’t know if you like soup dumplings, but you’ll love them from here even if you normally hate them,” he insisted with a warm chuckle. “If you don’t, I’ll buy you dessert, too.”

“You don’t have to,” you told him, to which he just shrugged.

The two of you sat in another silence, you looking around the small restaurant while Mingming people-watched through the window. As you looked around the space -- it seemed family owned and operated, which you thought was nice -- you couldn’t help but think about the dance team and how you were afraid of holding them back. It was clearly obvious you were a klutz so why you?

“Why did you guys even let me onto the team?” you wondered suddenly, looking curiously at Mingming.

He shrugged, his gaze moving away from the window and to you, “We saw the potential you had. You can pick up the moves, you just need a little extra practice.”

“But isn’t that just more work? That seems more trouble for you than it’s worth.”

He cocked his head to one side, looking almost puppy-like, “Why do you say that?”

“I’ll just hold you back,” you admitted bluntly. “C’mon, you can’t tell me that you wish you didn’t invite me to go to auditions that day.”

As the waitress came over with the orders of soup dumplings, Mingming tore away from the conversation to thank her. She walked away, and the conversation was basically forgotten by both of you in favor of food. Of course, you being you, you burnt your tongue trying to eat the dumpling, letting out a soft “ow” that had both you and Mingming laughing quietly.

Not much conversation was made as the two of you ate. Both of you were too focused on eating to say much, but you did manage to at least make some small talk. Mingming asked what you were going to school for, so you asked him the same thing. You talked about your classes, what you did other than practice, and the like. You thought he was a pretty nice guy, and kind of interesting, honestly. He seemed to only have his eight friends, though, and you wondered if he was just too shy to make other friends.

After the both of you were done -- and you had to admit that they were the best soup dumplings you’d ever had -- Mingming paid and left a generous tip before the both of you left, thanking the staff on your way.

As you were walking, you were left in silence again, your hands in your pockets of your jacket as it started to drizzle. You had been walking for only a couple minutes, almost back to the parking lot when you heard, “I don’t wish that.”

You turned your head to look at Mingming, “What?”

He was smiling, still looking straight ahead as he shook his head, crossing the street to the parking lot, “You said before that I probably wished I didn’t invite you to auditions. I don’t wish that. I’m glad I ran into you looking at our flyer.”

You scoffed, “Why? I’m the worst one on the team.”

“Because...well... _____, if I’m honest with you, I liked hanging out today,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head shyly as the two of you stopped by your car. He turned to face you, but he didn’t look at you. “If I hadn’t invited you that day, we wouldn’t have even met. We wouldn’t have gotten to hang out, and you wouldn’t have experienced the world’s greatest soup dumplings.”

“Mingming, we hardly spoke,” you laughed.

“Yeah, but you didn’t ignore me, either. It was a good mix, y’know? You’re not too quiet but you don’t talk my ear off.”

You assumed Mingming just felt awkward around you, but it felt nice knowing that he felt...content. You didn’t even notice you were smiling until one spread across Mingming’s face seeing you smile.

“I’ll see you at practice this weekend, okay?” he said before he waved and turned to go to his own car. “Get home safe, _____!”

You watched as Mingming jogged to his car before you got into your own, figuring he’d think it was weird if he saw you watching him. But you couldn’t help but think on the drive back to your dorm, and even once you were in your dorm, about how Mingming seemed to genuinely like you.

“You liiiiike them!” Jiayi sang.

The boys were talking about what they had done earlier that week as they got ready for practice. As always, they were the first ones in the room, arriving before everybody else. Mingming had mentioned he mostly just went to class and went to the soup dumpling place once before Chunyang had mentioned Mingming stayed after last practice with you to help you out. Then the questioning began.

“Did you see them again after?” Guanyue giggled.

Mingming shrugged, “Yeah, the next day to practice. We got kinda sidetracked though, so we were here for almost 3 hours.”

“And that’s when you went to the dumpling place!” Changxi realized, slowly getting louder toward the end.

That was when Jiayi decided to call him out, pointing out that Mingming had to have some level of feelings for you if he took you to his little hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

“I hate to say it, but Jiayi might be right,” Youwei admitted with a slight smirk.

“I do not like them,” Mingming stated, though the tips of his ears were turning pink. “Besides, I have a soulmate out there. _____ hasn’t shown any signs of being it. We’ve never done the same thing as each other when we’re together, and that’s too much to just be coincidence.”

“You’re allowed to have a crush even if you have a soulmate out there,” Wenhan shrugged, “but I understand how you feel about it.”

“Still, you’re not a bad person if you do like _____ and decide to ask them out,” Guanyue smirked, clearly trying to push the younger boy to build up the courage to take you on a real date.

“I barely know _____,” he mumbled. “We’ve just been talking about practice.”

“That’s what a date is for,” Hanyu informed him.

Mingming felt a slap to the back of his head before he saw Zhenning walking passed him to start stretching, “Duh.”

Practices and ‘tutoring sessions’ as Wenhan jokingly referred to them as were going by quickly, and the date for the competition was arriving quickly. Everybody had to admit you were improving, but Mingming still wanted to make sure you were understanding and remembering the steps, rhythm, and timing. But with only two weeks until the competition now, he had decided you wouldn’t need one-on-one training anymore.

During the weeks you’d spent with Mingming, you’d grown closer than you thought you would. Awkward silences weren’t awkward, small talk was replaced with full conversations and new inside jokes, and you started to look forward to practicing with your ‘trainer’. One might say you were developing a crush on him.

Meanwhile, Mingming already knew he kind of liked you -- he’d known since Jiayi teased him for it. But those feelings only worsened the more time he spent with you, and he was starting to wonder if he should take his friends’ advice before it was too late. He only ever really saw you alone when he was helping you between practices, so he figured this would be his last chance.

“You completely nailed it,” he praised through labored breaths, giving you a tired but proud smile as he held his hand up. “You didn’t mess up, fall over, or go off beat.”

You hit his hand in a high five, beaming at the compliment, “It’s thanks to you, though.”

He shrugged, “I can teach somebody how to dance but it doesn’t mean they’ll be good at it. You put in the work and dedication, _____. It’s been really nice seeing you grow as a dancer, actually.”

You couldn’t help but blush, smiling at the floor, “Thanks.”

Mingming thought you looked absolutely adorable. Even with your sweaty face, messy hair, and baggy clothing you wore to practice, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, smiling to himself as you smiled at your feet. Your smile lit up the room, and he found it giving him that little bit of courage he needed.

He stepped forward, putting a hand under your chin so you’d look back up at him. Then he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to yours.

Your eyes widened, not expecting the action at all. But you also didn’t have time to react in any other way before Mingming was pulling back, fear and surprise on his own face as he lightly touched his bottom lip.

“I-I’m... _____, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-- I mean, I did but--” he rambled, tripping over his own words before he was shaking his head, “I-I’m just sorry.”

Then he was running to the exit, swiftly grabbing his back before slipping out the door. He figured that the good thing was he wouldn’t have to be alone with you again so it wouldn’t be too awkward. The bad thing was that he would still have to see you at practice, and it would at least be a little awkward.

You were still frozen in the practice room, not quite understand what happened. Still, your lips felt tingly as you stood there, your hand slowly going to touch your own lips like Mingming had.

And outside, Mingming touched his again, too, even though he didn’t mean to.

The tension was obvious. Mingming wouldn’t go near you or even look at you. He didn’t greet you when you came in like he always did, and everybody noticed it -- especially his friends. You had gotten close to a girl in the group named Alina, and she had asked about it one afternoon as the two of you were walking to the parking lot, saying she didn’t want to pry if you didn’t want to talk about it. You explained the out-of-nowhere kiss between you and Mingming, and even she was confused as to why he suddenly ran away after gathering the courage to do that without warning.

Mingming’s friends had stayed in the practice room after everyone left, asking Mingming to hang back with them.

“What’s up?” Wenhan asked.

“What do you mean?” he wondered. “You’re the ones who told me to stay back.”

“Because you’re not acting right, especially toward _____,” Youwei stated, hands on his hips. “Did something happen?”

Mingming sighed, hoping he wouldn’t have to tell his friends about this. He knew they’d tell him he was silly or stupid or something in between, so he just ran a hand through his hair as he prepared for the onslaught of insults.

“I kissed _____,” he admitted.

The eight boys gasped, some looking genuinely surprised, and others looking beyond excited.

“Really?” Zhenning grinned.

“Wait,” Changxi stopped his clapping, frowning suddenly, “but neither of you have spoken to each other, so... Did something go wrong?”

“Well, no...” Mingming began, looking away with furrowed eyebrows as he thought back to the moment he tried not to think about. “Kinda? Well, not from their part. I don’t know, they just seemed...shocked. They didn’t say anything or kiss me back or react.”

“So then...what happened?” Jiayi pressed.

“I just...felt...guilty,” Mingming said with a defeated look. “I like _____ a lot, but I feel like I shouldn’t. My soulmate is out there, and here I am, giving my time and attention to somebody else when I should be finding my soulmate. It just felt...wrong. Not like the kiss wasn’t good! But it made me feel like I was cheating on my soulmate.”

“So what did you do after you kissed them?” Chunyang asked.

“I...kinda ran...”

Hanyu rolled his eyes, letting out a disappointed sigh, “Oh my god, Mingming...”

“That’s actually the dumbest thing you could’ve done other than headbutt them,” Zhenning informed him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” Mingming mumbled, looking down at the floor. “They’re clearly over it, and I’m trying not to think about it. If it meant anything to them, they would’ve tried to talk to me or something but they avoided me, too. It’s better to just move on and focus on the competition next week.”

“Are you sure...?” Wenhan asked slowly, concern written all over his face.

From the point they’d brought up Mingming’s possible feelings for you up until he kissed you, they could tell how much Mingming grew to like you. The two of you were always joking and laughing together before and after practice, and sometimes they boys would go to the practice room afterwards to check up on him and see the two of you chasing each other around the room as you laughed and yelled at each other. Even now, it was obvious Mingming was upset he ruined your friendship, so they wanted to make sure he would be okay.

Mingming just nodded, “It’s better that--”

Before he could even finish his sentence, he had suddenly slipped like he was on ice, falling straight onto his back with a huff of air being pushed from his lungs. He just laid on the floor as his friends surrounded him, looking down at him in curiosity and concern.

He nodded with a soft sigh, “I probably deserved that.”

Outside, Alina was giggling softly at you before holding out a hand to help you to your feet. You declined with a shake of your head.

“I’d rather just...stay down here,” you decided.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes, “_____, you’re being over dramatic.”

“He kissed me, apologized, and ran!” you reminded her, clearly upset over what happened with Mingming. “Was it me? It was me, wasn’t it? But why would he kiss me if it was me that was the problem? Alina, what if I’m a bad kisser?”

“You said you didn’t react, so you can’t be a bad kisser if you didn’t even kiss him back,” she pointed out before sitting down beside you on the ground. “If you like him, why don’t you ask him?”

“Because then I’ll have to stay on this dance team,” you grumbled, sitting up and brushing the gravel and pebbles from your hair. “He’s the only reason I stuck around.”

“Do you still hate dancing?”

“Well, no, not anymore... But I don’t like doing it in front of people, and we have to to compete.”

“Then think of it this way: now that you don’t have Mingming keeping you here, you can quit the team after the competition.”

“I guess...” you sighed, still not pleased with the outcome.

“C’mon, I’ll take you for dinner,” she chuckled, standing up and finally helping you up as well. “Maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

Your hands were clammy and shaking as you waited back stage. You were on deck, watching the group before you perform. They seemed so polished and precise and that made you nervous. You knew the rest of your group was amazing, but would you be? Would you drag them down? Would you be the reason they didn’t place high?

Mingming couldn’t stop looking at you. He could tell your nerves were getting the best of you, and all he wanted to do was hug you and give you words of encouragement, but he was afraid he’d make things worse. So he stayed where he was, stretching and eyeing you.

Alina was the one to go over to you, offering a small smile, “You look terrified.”

“I am terrified,” you confirmed. “I don’t know if I can do this...”

“_____--”

Before she could say anything, you had jogged over to the exit to go to the hall. You wanted to just go hide out in the bathroom and hope nobody noticed you were gone. Maybe your group would win without you there and you could just avoid them forever so you didn’t have to face them after ditching them.

Mingming, however, noticed you leave, his feet moving without him even having to think about it.

“I’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder before sprinting off after you.

He looked down the way you’d gone, not seeing you at the end of the hall, but he still went that way anyway. He reached the end of the hall and saw the door to their dressing room close, so he jogged over and lightly knocked on the door.

No answer.

“_____?” he asked.

“Nobody’s here,” you replied before mentally slapping your forehead. That was a dumb response.

He chuckled, “_____, I just wanna talk. What’s wrong?”

You sighed, figuring you’d already blown your cover so why not open the door? Things couldn’t get any worse, could they?

Mingming looked genuinely concerned as he looked at you. You didn’t reply to his question, though. You just turned and walked further into the empty room, allowing him to enter and close the door.

“Why’d you run off?” he wondered.

You shook your head, “I can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Mingming, I’m so bad!” you told him, turning to face him.

“You are not.”

“Stop trying to encourage me, I know you say that to be nice!”

“No, I mean it.”

“I’m going to be the reason you guys don’t get first place,” you frowned, looking at the floor. “I don’t want to hold anybody back.”

He let out a laugh, and that surprised you. You looked up at him to see him walking over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Winning’s cool, yeah, but this is our first competition together. We don’t expect first,” he explained, “we’re just here to have fun and do the best we can.”

“But everybody else always said--”

“I know what they said, but don’t listen to them,” he told you, looking deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Y-yeah...”

“Then come on stage with us and do it. You can do it, I know you can. I’ve seen you run that dance without falling so many times, and I know you can do it this time.”

Slowly, you nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it before slowly letting it out, “Okay...”

He smiled, patting your shoulder, “Alright, let’s go.”

As you followed Mingming to the door, your nerves took over again and you blurted, “I’m quitting after this performance.”

Mingming paused and turned to look at you. You saw hurt flash in his eyes before it was replaced with an unreadable expression. He didn’t say anything for a moment before he finally nodded.

“O-okay...”

He turned an carried on out of the room, feeling a pang of disappointment in his heart, but he tried to ignore it. You just silently followed him, feeling sad as well, but you weren’t sure why.

By the time you reached the backstage area again, the group before you was walking off the stage. Guanyue ran over, his eyes wide with worry.

“Thank god you’re back,” he breathed in relief. “We’re on, c’mon!”

Mingming glanced back at you before following the older boy, so you followed behind them. Your group waited at the side of the stage before you were announced, signaling you to get into your positions.

As you got into your spot, Mingming’s words kept ringing in your head. All of the moves, the timing, the rhythm played on a loop in your head. You could do this dance in your sleep. You could do this dance a million times without messing up.

You could do this.

The music started, and your body moved on instinct. You didn’t blank, you didn’t freeze up, and you didn’t panic. Hearing the music, you were back in your own little world, remembering every step, how to do it, and when. You had this, and you would celebrate that later.

But something happened. Somebody messed up, but it wasn’t you.

Mingming’s actions were no longer his own. He started doing moves he wasn’t supposed to and he couldn’t stop himself. He knew whose moves they were because he’d done them almost as much as he’d practiced his own. Glancing across the stage, he saw you doing the moves he’d taught you at the exact same time as him.

His eyes widened as the realization hit him.

His body was suddenly back in his own control, but in his rush to correct his actions, he tripped over his own feet and fell to the side, catching himself on his hands. However, the thud he made was a lot louder than he thought it would be.

Across the stage, you had fallen on your side. But this time, it wasn’t you who fell -- at least, it wasn’t on your own accord. Your actions weren’t your own as your feet randomly tripped over themselves, sending you sliding a little bit before you looked up at your group in panic. Only instead of meeting upset or worried faces, your eyes met the amused expression of Mingming on the floor.

Knowing he still had control over you, Mingming got to his feet, you mimicking his actions at the exact same time. He got back into the dance easily, which helped you, even when your body was back under your control.

You were relieved when the dance was over, all of you in your ending poses at the audience cheered and clapped despite the two slip-ups. Nobody except Alina and Mingming’s friends knew about your ‘thing’ with your soulmate, so they understood your mess ups, laughing, teasing, and playfully hitting you as the group walked off the stage. Once in the safety of the darkness backstage, Mingming paused by the curtains to wait for you, beaming when he saw you trailing behind everybody with your head down. You still felt bad because you were technically the reason for the mistakes. You had started it -- you caused Mingming to do the wrong thing, and you--

Before you could finish your negative thoughts, you felt a warm hand against your cheek before you just barely saw Mingming lean in. His lips pressed against yours like last time, but this kiss was much more confident, his lips firmly against yours in a sweet kiss. And he didn’t pull away before you could kiss him back.

You could hear your group behind him whooping and clapping, making you giggle shyly against his lips before he pulled away, the happiest smile you’d ever seen him wear on his face.

“That kiss, I’m not sorry for.”

[Bonus: one week later]

It was ‘law’ that you got properly acquainted with Mingming’s friends -- at least, that’s what Jiayi claimed, and the other seven just agreed with him. So the ten of you were gathered at a handful of tables that were shoved together at Mingming’s favorite restaurant, you sitting between Mingming and Zhenning as you ate your soup dumplings.

The group still joked about how they still managed to get third place at the competition, claiming they were either that good or the competition was just really bad. Either way, they were proud of their small trophy that they proudly showed off in the practice room.

“We should give everybody a break from practicing,” Wenhan decided. “Maybe take a couple weeks and then train for the next competition.”

Guanyue nodded, “I agree. Give everybody time to relax before we start up again.”

Mingming turned to you, suddenly remembering your statement in the dressing room, “Are you still quitting?”

“What?!” Zhenning gasped.

“Why?” Jiayi whined, sounding like a disappointed child.

“_____, you wanted to quit?” Wenhan asked, not seeming upset with you but definitely curious. “Why is that?”

You just shrugged, keeping your eyes on your dumplings now that the spotlight was on you, “I just never really liked dancing before...”

“What about now, though?” Youwei inquired. “You danced with us for so long -- don’t you like it now?”

“And you improved a lot!” Changxi grinned.

You looked up at Mingming at the mention of you improving. You had to admit, you did like the times Mingming helped teach you. He made dancing a lot more enjoyable than you used to find it.

“I guess I kinda like it now,” you decided with a small smile.

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