greenbricksandblacktiles

[greenbricksandblacktiles]

1. Practice

Jingyan can tell without looking directly at him that Xiao Shu is in an excellent mood when he steps out onto the range. Bitterly, and perhaps unfairly, Jingyan chooses not to acknowledge his presence.

Of course, Xiao Shu doesn’t let that deter him. “I was just at the palace,” he says, coming closer.

Jingyan lets loose an arrow that strikes the target dead center. It isn’t as satisfying as he hoped it would be. “I know,” he answers.

“Great Grandmother has selected Nihuang to be my bride,” Xiao Shu says, obviously pleased at the prospect.

It’s understandable. Nihuang is a fighter, so much like a little sister to Jingyan, and she absolutely adores Xiao Shu. She would be a good wife to Xiao Shu, and he a good husband to her.

Knowing all of this does nothing to abate the sour taste in Jingyan’s mouth.

“I know,” he repeats, stolid.

The response makes Xiao Shu pause, and as Jingyan nocks another arrow, he hears, “Jingyan, aren’t you happy for me?”

“Ecstatic,” Jingyan says, but he doesn’t even try to sound like he means it.

“What’s the matter with you today?” Xiao Shu asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure. That’s why you look like something crawled up your ass and died.”

“Xiao Shu.”

With a teasing note in his voice, Xiao Shu asks, “What is it, then? Are you jealous? Did you want her for yourself?”

Incredulous, Jingyan lowers his bow and turns toward Xiao Shu to say, “Nihuang is like a sister to me. Of course I’m not jealous because I want her.”

Xiao Shu’s eyes widen a fraction, but he recovers immediately and cracks another grin, bright as the sun. “Jingyan, are you jealous because you won’t have me all to yourself anymore?”

Jingyan says nothing, because anything he could say now would be worse than what Xiao Shu has already assumed.

“You don’t have to worry,” Xiao Shu says, smile softening. “Nothing’s going to change for us. I wouldn’t give you up for a wife.”

“I know,” Jingyan says, and turns back toward the target in the distance.

“You still sound so bitter,” Xiao Shu observes, casual, coming around to look over Jingyan’s shoulder as he lines up his next shot. Lightly, he says, “Oh, if only you were born a girl. Then I could marry you too, and you and Nihuang would stay on even footing.”

“I’d rather you were the girl,” Jingyan responds unthinkingly, surprising even himself.

This arrow misses the target entirely, and Jingyan curses even as Xiao Shu starts to laugh.

“Jingyan, why does it matter to you which of us would be the girl?” he asks, mirthful.

“Can we please pretend I didn’t say that?” Jingyan asks, but he doesn’t bother trying to resist when Xiao Shu’s insistent hands grip his shoulders to turn him around.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly let you off that easy,” Xiao Shu answers, exactly as Jingyan knew he would. “Tell me: why do you care which one of us would be the girl?”

“Don’t make me answer that, Xiao Shu.”

Still smiling, because he hasn’t a clue how Jingyan is suffering, Xiao Shu says, “My, oh my. Do you really think you could possibly have a secret I don’t already know?” When Jingyan doesn’t respond immediately, Xiao Shu needles, “Come on, tell me.”

“I’d rather you were the girl because then I could truly have you to myself, all right?” Jingyan blurts out, abrupt. “Women have to share. Men don’t.”

This finally makes Xiao Shu’s smile fade, and it’s too much.

Jingyan has said too much, and what he wants is impossible. The only way forward, the only way out of this without destroying everything he holds dear, is to pretend it wasn’t real. So he forces himself into a grin and says, “I got you, didn’t I?”

Xiao Shu only blinks once, slow, seeing far too much. Jingyan drops his gaze to avoid meeting those inquisitive eyes, but that puts Xiao Shu’s lips right in his sights, and oh, how he wants.

Before he can do anything stupid—more stupid than what he has already done—he shrugs Xiao Shu’s hands off his shoulders and turns around to face the target. When he starts to lift his bow, his arms are heavy as lead. So he changes his mind and walks off toward the target to collect his arrows.

“Have you gone to see her yet?” he says, voice raised so Xiao Shu doesn’t have to follow him.

“Her?”

The nerve of him, pretending he doesn’t know who Jingyan is talking about. “Nihuang.”

Xiao Shu doesn’t answer, and Jingyan stews in the silence as he yanks his arrows off the target and replaces them in his quiver. And then he regrets this decision, because he must turn to face Xiao Shu in order to return to his position on the shooting range.

“Jingyan,” Xiao Shu says, closer than Jingyan would have expected, and he turns to find Xiao Shu coming toward him, steps full of purpose, brow furrowed.

“Don’t,” Jingyan says, holding a hand out, but Xiao Shu is an unstoppable force. Any attempt to slow him down only steels his resolve, and really, Jingyan should know better.

“Why are you so afraid?” Xiao Shu asks, within arm’s reach now.

Jingyan lifts his bow, anything to put some space between them, but Xiao Shu catches his wrist, presses it back down. As ever, Jingyan is powerless to stop him.

“I’m not afraid.”

He’s terrified.

Xiao Shu’s lips curl upward, slightly, cocky. It’s an expression Jingyan loves and hates in equal measure.

“You haven’t lied to me like that in years,” Xiao Shu says, and then he squints a little, adds, “Actually, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to lie to me like that.”

“Xiao Shu, please.”

But Xiao Shu just talks over him. “You’ve always been so transparent. Everyone sees straight through you because you want them to. You let them. Which is why I’m so surprised you managed to keep this from me for—how long?”

“If you have any regard for our friendship, you’ll stop. Please.”

“But how long has this been going on?” Xiao Shu presses, leaning in closer.

Jingyan tears himself away, storming past Xiao Shu and marching back toward the shooting range. Xiao Shu actually has the audacity to laugh, which only feeds the anger brimming in Jingyan’s chest, about to spill over.

Xiao Shu calls after him, but Jingyan doesn’t slow his pace.

“Hey—Jingyan, wait,” Xiao Shu says, and catches up, wraps a hand around Jingyan’s elbow.

His grip is insistent, but it is also loose enough that Jingyan could pull free if he wanted to. But therein lies the problem: he doesn’t want to be free of Xiao Shu. He doesn’t want things to change, doesn’t want their time to become limited, restricted.

“You realize you’re not being fair,” Xiao Shu says.

“How?” Jingyan demands, forgetting himself and turning to face his friend. Xiao Shu’s expression is unexpectedly solemn.

“I didn’t say a word when you were wed last year.”

“That’s different.”

Xiao Shu’s eyebrows shoot up. “It is exactly the same thing.”

“You have to know it’s different.”

“Oh, you stupid, stubborn bull. Listen to me,” Xiao Shu says, hands coming up to frame Jingyan’s face.

Startled, Jingyan doesn’t even think to pull away.

And then Xiao Shu is saying, easy as breathing, “I don’t want to share you, either.”

The words don’t make any sense. Jingyan feels off-balance, reaches one hand up to grasp Xiao Shu’s wrist as his mind scrabbles for purchase.

Yet his body is three steps ahead of him, because his other hand is finding Xiao Shu’s hip, following the shape of him around to the small of his back, pulling him in. He comes easily, and before Jingyan can think better of it, their lips are meeting for the first time, tentative.

Xiao Shu makes a small sound, seemingly unintentional, and Jingyan presses closer, tries the seam of Xiao Shu’s lips with his tongue and is granted access. He pushes in, licks Xiao Shu’s teeth, tastes his tongue, and relishes the way Xiao Shu pushes back.

It is only a kiss, yet Jingyan feels himself stirring, feels hotter in this moment with Xiao Shu than he ever has with his wife.

And it is this realization that has Jingyan stumbling back, shocked at himself.

Xiao Shu’s hands simply fall away as Jingyan draws back, and for a moment, there is a dimness to Xiao Shu’s eyes, his usual spark conspicuously absent. In that moment, Jingyan wonders whether he stole it, whether he tainted Xiao Shu, ruined him.

But then he brightens, resilient as ever, and says, “That was some excellent practice.”

The words startle a laugh out of Jingyan, though he’d thought for a second that they might never share a laugh again. His amusement quickly fades, however, and he knows not what to say.

It was not practice, and Xiao Shu knows that.

“Don’t think too hard,” Xiao Shu says lightly, breezing past him. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Jingyan turns around, expecting Xiao Shu to be half-turned toward him, waiting for his response, but he is treated to the sight of Xiao Shu’s back, making an unhurried retreat. He opens his mouth to call him back, but he still hasn’t found the words to say.

Maybe if he says nothing, they can forget that this ever happened.

And so Jingyan simply watches as Xiao Shu grows smaller with distance, disappears indoors. Never once does he look back, nor slow his pace. And as Jingyan thought, they never mentioned it again.

It is this moment, this silence, that Jingyan regrets the most when he returns from the East Sea and learns the fate of the Chiyan Army, of his dearest brother, and of the Lin Clan.