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[gudandewangzi]

expctance·:

the name had bells and whistles going off in his head– was it disrespectful to be drinking with a prince? was he supposed to curtsy now that archie knew who he was? did the rules not apply tonight? before archie could make a fool of himself (and judging from the obvious loss for words he had when chenyu introduced himself, he would have definitely made a fool of himself), the prince began walking away. so archie took his cue and followed him.

“anything but the wine,” archie answered, though he had a feeling chenyu wouldn’t be able to grant him his wish. it felt like all they had in france was wine. “do they have gin?” he asked, peeking over the prince’s shoulder to see the selection.

“Uh…” Chenyu looked over the many glasses, searching for something that was coloured differently to the rest. A joke tumbled from his mouth even though he knew it would not be understood. “他们当然有，但我从来没听说过人能喝的金！” He gave his own joke a little laugh, nudging Archie in a show of friendly teasing. Puns aside, he truly had never heard of the stuff, so he pointed to something amber in colour. “Gin?” he asked, hopeful. For him, it certainly sounded like it should be.

[gudandewangzi]

xijuanz·:

@gudandewangzi··

he can see it now. frankly, he is unsure how he did not realize sooner even with the masks. how long has it been now ? a decade…more ? with all that had happened in his life, it had been far too long since he had thought about his old friend. there once was an official’s young son, newly fifteen when his father asked something of him. he had been excited to go to the palace more than anything, though his desire to not disappoint was just as strong. their friendship had started innocently at first when xijuan desired nothing more than a friend. his father, however, intervened after seeing the friendship. he quickly suggested he use the company of the prince as a way to get closer to certain censor offices he would otherwise be questioned for being near. perhaps he should have realized how wrong it was to use someone that trusted him for his own gain. however, xijuan couldn’t even see that he was being used as well.

he’s been staring for far too long now, he realizes, which mildly irritates him. is he… getting old ? surely not. the pair of them were only boys before xijuan’s arrest & subsequent escape and now they were young men. how strange. “今天天气很好,” xijuan decidedly comments, looking out on a balcony where they stand, with his arms placed neatly behind his back.

The life of a prince in The Forbidden City is one which is well managed. Everything, be it his food, his sleep, his education, or his hobbies, had been carefully selected for Chenyu since the moment he arrived into the world. His wardrobe was curated to show his position. His appearance was cultivated to express the four virtues of a gentleman. His playmates had been picked for him from children of nobility and good breeding.

Friendships came and went throughout his life. As positions changed hands, as politics forced the displacement of families, one playmate would be replaced with another. One friendship would end and another would grow. Apart from his siblings, Chenyu could count the number of long-lasting friendships he had had on one hand, with fingers to spare.

“嗯,” Chenyu grunted in reply. “但我还没习惯了这儿的冬天。怎么还这么温和？” Snow may have bleached the landscape of France, but Chenyu’s breath did not yet ache on the inhale as it did at home. It clouded now, pluming from his mouth as he decidedly did not look at the landscape. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the side profile of the man beside him.

What was the memory of a face after a decade? To Chenyu, 谢 习鹃 was a name that elicited memories muddled by discomfort and nostalgia. It was a name linked to questions from the censorate, questions from his mother and Emperor. The happier memories they had shared - the laughter and the nonsense, lazy days in the early summer, stealing food from the kitchens - were clouded. Yet this face before him was sharp with familiarity.

“我认识你吗？” he asked outright, flicking his eyes over the ever-more-familiar features.

[gudandewangzi]

princesssoonee·:

The party was too much. The noise was too much. And luckily Soonee was good enough with disguises that she could slip out and leave. She just needed some stress relief, even if it was for a moment. So, grabbing her bow and arrow that she had personally had crafted for her, she headed into the woods where she took a horse and began her hunt. Setting up, she wasn’t prepared to shoot anything yet. But, fate had different plans and she saw a deer flying through towards her. Quickly taking out her bow and arrow, she aimed straight on. Finally, she let go of the bow and hit the deer right on target, but before she could go to claim her kill she saw someone nearing it. Covering her mouth, she stepped back to hide - shit she had been caught.

Being complimented, she had to admit it was a nice feeling, but what would he think if he knew she was a girl? She had no choice, slowly making her way out, she felt her heart beating through her chest. “Merci,” she replied nervously, “I pray you won’t tell another soul of this”

The accented French made it clear that it was not one of his hosts who had felled the buck. Chenyu peered into the forest in the direction of the voice, smiling when the hunter appeared. His smile wavered a little when he realised he was faced with a member of the Joseon court. He could not tell her title, but her accent, features, and clothing made it clear where she was from.

If there was one thing that Chenyu had done for himself since his mother’s death, it was to free himself from the burden of her expectations. The expectation that he would be somber and controlled. The expectation that he would be hungry for his 大哥’s position as Emperor. The expectation that he would parrot his mother’s views as his own. Wu Wen may have cursed the Joseon Dynasty and all of the Ming’s allies who had not come to their aid, but Chenyu would not.

“안녕하십니까,” Chenyu said, one of the few phrases he knew. The woman’s anxiety was not altogether confusing; Had Chenyu been hunting in his usual grounds and had come across a mounted, unchaperoned woman doing the same he would certainly have had some suspicion as to who she was, and - more importantly - who gave her permission to hunt. But this was France, and the two of them were guests, and all guests were welcomed to sport at this time. With a slight twitch of his brow to show his bemusement, he switched back to French, unsure of whether she was able to understand Mandarin and lacking skill in Korean.

“I will keep this a secret, if you want, but I don’t know why such skill must be hidden,” he said, keeping his voice light. Was this woman perhaps a servant, who was not allowed to wield any sort of weapon? Was she married to a husband who refused to let her hunt?

[gudandewangzi]

expctance·:

the grin on the other’s face seemed to be infectious, because archie’s cynical one turned genuine when the man returned the gesture. it was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who was not as uptight and rude as some of the others he’d met. he didn’t really care about status, if it was up to him he’d abandon his own altogether, but alas.

“i do think that would defeat the purpose,” he assured, but shrugged as he downed the rest of his disgusting merlot. “but who ever cared about that? i’m archie.” just archie. tonight was a night to forget about titles.

”Chenyu,” he said in way of reply and introduction, still grinning widely. He clapped Archie’s shoulder again. “Let’s get another drink, yes?” with a nod of his head towards Archie’s empty glass, Chenyu pulled away and headed for the nearest refreshments table. He had grown rather fond of the red wines served in France, though the headaches they left him with were sometimes uncomfortable, and he had first expected them to taste similar to some sort of blood soup.

“What do you want?” he asked Archie over his shoulder when the splay of crystal glasses was in front of them. For himself he grabbed something burgundy and plentiful, and his other hand hovered, waiting for his new friend’s request. What better way to begin a friendship than with the serving (or in this case, handing) of a drink?

[gudandewangzi]

ladygianna·:

“Correct,” she said with a growing smile, “that’s the fun of a masquerade ball, you can hide who you are and be how you truly want to be. Hopefully it’s a good thing but still, don’t be afraid to be your true self,” she told him with excitement. She was enjoying this party more and more by the moment but had yet to see Noemi. Had she been okay? Maybe she should check on her

”Ha,” Chenyu announced, both proud of himself for guessing correctly, and entertained by the game. France was appearing more and more fun. First the naked figures painted in their place of worship and now this. How bizarre. “So if not yourself, who are you being tonight?”

[gudandewangzi]

princesssoonee·:

“Apparently,” she replied, looking over at him with a smile, “I enjoy it, the anonymity is nice for once,” she chuckled, knowing that this was something she did most of the time in secret but still, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell others what she did in her spare time. “I’m assuming you enjoy it as well?”

Anonymity… the concept was as foreign to Chenyu as the setting in which he stood. He had been known from his very first wail, from the moment he took his first breath. He was known before that, even, when his mother proudly and arrogantly showed off the curve of her stomach and paraded in front of the other concubines. The prince took a moment to mull it other, his mouth twisting and bunching with the intensity of his thought.

”I suppose so,” he finally said with a shrug. For him the excitement had been far more about having to guess who the other people in the room were, not for them to guess about him. Take for instance this young woman. Chenyu finally took a proper look at her, and could tell from her clothes and hair that she certainly hailed from the Joseon Dynasty. Whereas the fellow behind he was almost definitely European.

[gudandewangzi]

hixtoryofmxn·:

The thought that Chenyu may not recognize him hadn’t begun to cross Sebastian’s mind, his head far too filled with romantic notions of star-crossed lovers to realize that beneath his mask he might have been any other man intent upon wooing the other. For a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind and near more importantly, his heart. 

While the mask afforded the Spanish Prince an otherwise unobtainable level of anonymity, the irony of the situation was not lost upon him. Though it was the world he wished to disguise himself from, the fact remained that the crowd contained one individual whom he did not. Furthermore, the extent of the heartbreak he would certainly feel should that same individual not recognize him beneath his covering dawned upon him, nearly stopping him from continuing his approach. There existed no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that he’d managed to locate his lover, beneath the ornate and gorgeous glimmering mask covering his features. The question was, would his lover be as sure?

The irony was only furthered by the thought that with the addition of his mask, much of his usual charm and allure was muted. Therefore, Chenyu would be forced to recognize the Spaniard by the sheer raw personality and emotion he’d shared thus far, in his most naked of moments, and not in reference to his lack of clothing in those times. 

Once he was upon the other, Sebastian’s already solidified opinion that he’d located Chenyu transformed into pure knowledge, his lover’s intoxicating scent filling his senses, the soft and supple appearance of his skin recognizable immediately. It was the same scent he’d breathed in so deeply on so many occasions, willing himself to commit it to memory, for the times which he predicted might come- times in which he found himself alone once more, his Prince just out of reach, and potentially in the arms of another. It was a time Sebastian simultaneously feared and yet found himself preparing for, certain that he might eventually lose his shine in the eyes of the other, as he had so many times before. 

When Chenyu raised his hand, fingertips dancing across the cloth of the Spaniard’s collar, Sebastian’s nerves were set alight, his senses heightening as his heartbeat increased tenfold. Breath caught in his throat as he leaned further forward, the freedom granted by the masks gripping him once more. “I am pleased to hear you think such gorgeous thoughts, ciervo, they do comfort me so. Beneath such a gorgeous mask lies a man who shines so stunningly bright, the moon itself is envious.” Sebastian’s eyes locked upon the other man’s, searching for the unspoken words he was certain lay there. Uncaring, he raised his hands slowly, settling his palms in a soft yet firm grip on each side of Chenyu’s face as his gaze remained fixed upon those beautiful and honest eyes. “I have searched for you, mi precioso, I had begun to fear you might not come. I’d very nearly given up my search here, in favor of seeking your presence within your quarters. Perhaps you shall think me naive, perhaps even foolish. But you are, with certainty, the only man I have dreamed of dancing with this evening.” 

Though subtle, Chenyu reckoned he could just about make out Sebastian’s pulse jumping in his throat, and something soft and raw trembled within him as the Spaniard leant in even closer. His question was answered, and relief made any tension in his spine and shoulders relax. Sebastian had meant for it to be him. Sebastian had been looking for him. Beyond the rush of blood in his ears, the sounds of the ball became increasingly clear to him - the ring of crystal glasses, the vibrato of stringed instruments, the murmur of conversation. The two of them may be masked, but they were public, seen, watched. People were watching, people could see them, and could see how they made each other feel.

It felt almost indecent, to be so close, to receive such compliments with so many around. Chenyu’s fingers slipped on the fine lace of Sebastian’s collar to grip his shoulder as he listened, close enough to feel Sebastian’s breath on his skin, to feel his heat even in the warm, stuffy ballroom. He did not know what ciervo meant, but if it was anything as complimentary as the rest of his lover’s words, Chenyu was almost glad he did not understand it. As it was, the only thing he shone with at the moment was a blush, heating his face with a mixture of pride, excitement, and bashfulness. He wanted to squirm - either away or closer he was unsure - a feeling which only heightened as he was all but pinned under Sebastian’s gaze, and then, heavens, his hands.

There was no way Sebastian could not feel the heat of Chenyu’s cheeks under his palms, no way he was not blazing so brightly that it beamed through his mask. Once more the Spanish prince made Chenyu feel pursued, wanted, seduced. Giddily, he could not keep the grin from his face, until his cheeks pressed against Sebastian’s thumbs, bunched and aching.

Taking his hand from Sebastian’s shoulder, Chenyu instead slipped his fingers under the froth of lace at Sebastian’s cuffs and gently gripped the prince’s wrists. His intent was not to push away, but simply to rub his trim fingernails against the delicate skin where tendon showed through flesh. He tried to shake his head, held as it was between Sebastian’s hands, to say no, not foolish, not naive, not at all, and then dropped his gaze with an embarrassingly high-pitched chuckle.

”I,” when he spoke, Chenyu was surprised to find his voice quavering. He cleared his throat, squeezed Sebastian’s wrists gently in his hands, and tried again. “I cannot dance,” he said, voice pitched deeper than usual in an attempt to make up for its disconcerting shake. He felt, as he so often did in Sebastian’s presence, a little self conscious at his lack of experience. “I don’t know how,” he elaborated, knowing, or feeling he knew, that the other would leap at the chance to teach him.

[gudandewangzi]

magnolia blossom in chinese temples

[gudandewangzi]

xijuanz·:

it was careless of the french court to be hosting a masquerade amidst the countless foreign courts. at the same time, it was very french of them to do so. considering the stable fire & botched assassination of the italian king was still fresh on many people’s minds, it was puzzling to see how many people willingly agreed to don a mask for the night. that wasn’t to say that xijuan wasn’t in favor of the celebration, in fact, he found it far easier to blend into the crowd. but, he couldn’t help wondering what the increased security was to do when the entire ballroom was a sea of masks. 

as an insider, it was easy for xijuan to identify some of those in attendance. he could imagine a thousand ways to target them if he wanted to. it came down to fashion for identifying the different countries. spotting one of the russian royals or a member of the ming dynasty was as easy as blinking. so, it didn’t take him long to situate himself near one of the latter. ironically enough, his some of best clothing was his hanfus. with these robes, he could appear as a loyal subject for the night. “you are not entirely incorrect,” xijuan answered, shifting himself closer to the man who spoke. “it is also a way to parade as someone you are not.” 殿下 danced on his tongue, daring him to slip it into a sentence to reveal he had figured out his identity with little trouble. he had pinned the man as one of the princes much sooner. but, he enjoyed taking liberties with his words since the masks allowed it. “perhaps i am a sugar beat farmer from normandy, looking for a moment away from my wife. none of that matters tonight.” 

The prince let out an amused chuckle in response. “A beet farmer, in such fine clothes?” Chenyu turned to the man at his side, taking a moment to appreciate his hanfu. “I will have to tell my brother to invest,” he joked, not quite yet getting the hang of the game. Anonymity was something Chenyu had hardly ever been afforded, his first taste of it coming only with his arrival in France (and even then, though his name and title were not specifically known by many who glimpsed him, they knew that by his mere presence he must be of some importance).

”Perhaps, then, tonight I will play…” A myriad of roles danced in his head, from figures he had witnessed in his life to characters in kunqu. “The sugar beet farmer’s wife,” he finally announced with a laugh, “unless that means I will be without your company.” Who exactly this man was, Chenyu could not say. But was that not part of this game? He must have been of their party; his accent spoke of the North, and his Mandarin was fine and eloquent, yet spoken with the ease of a native. Whilst clothes may be borrowed, culture cannot.

[gudandewangzi]

@princesssoonee​ || closed || within the forests surrounding the chateau

TW: animal death

Celebrations for the Western New Year had been pleasant, indeed. Chenyu had feasted, imbibed, even watched the simple fireworks available to the French Court. He had played games, been chased through the hedge maze blindfolded, and had an uncomfortable but thrilling dip in one of the ground lakes (the resulting sniffles had made up his mind never to do that one again). But by far Chenyu’s favourite part about the Western New Year was that hunting was made open to all the visiting Royals and Nobles, and the vast forests surrounding the Chateau were now a playground of opportunities.

Chenyu liked to hunt. He was awful with a sword, a whip, a polestaff, but give him a bow and arrow, or even a rifle, and he would return several hours later with at least three animals slung over his mount’s back. The mountains in Chicheng county were well aware of his prowess, and the numerous hours he had spent hunting north of his ancestral tombs almost turned the terrain dull in his mind. But France’s wildlife was unconquered territory, and at the first chance available Chenyu had summoned a servant to carry his gear, had fetched a favoured horse from the make-shift stables, and ridden into the forests.

About an hour into his hunt and a dull hare hunt from the saddle of his eunuch’s horse. They moved slowly through the underbrush, the noise quietened by the blanket of snow upon the foliage. Chenyu was sure he had seen deer tracks heading this way, and was keen on sending the creature to the kitchens that evening. Softly, softly, he urged his mare onwards, bending low over her long neck. An arrow was ready-knocked on his bow, balanced between his frozen fingers.

A snap sounded out, dampened by snow but still managing to echo through the bare-branch forest. Chenyu’s breath caught in his throat, and he gave the reins a quick jerk to halt the mare. But it was too late. Suddenly from between the cramped tree trunks a roe buck sprung, leaping in a panicked zig-zag. Chenyu reared up straight-backed, pulled his arrow, and-

The deer let out a wail as it was hit. But the bowstring in Chenyu’s hand was still taut. Confused, he let it relax and drop.

A figure, slight, rushed in from the direction opposite the deer’s fall. Dismounting, Chenyu approached it and the deer, which was still in the snow. When he got within ten paces it became clear that the shot had been clean, piercing the deer’s neck and ending it’s life within seconds.

”Bien joué,” he said, clearly impressed. “Vous êtes clairement un chasseur compétent!”

[gudandewangzi]

expctance·:

the idea was definitely something, that was for sure. archie wasn’t sure whether he liked it, but at this point what was the harm in keeping up with the ‘i hate it here i want to go home’ pattern he was making? it was difficult for him not to snatch the mask off of his face, because god, did he hate the feeling of it scratching his skin. 

“they could have used better material, at least,” he grumbled, not being able to hid his contempt for the entire thing. it was eerie, too. not being able to see anyone’s face or intent seemed a bit counter productive. the more he thought about it, the more he decided he really didn’t like this. he didn’t even know who he was talking to! “i think you’ve got it, my friend.” he nodded, patting the man’s shoulder.

Chenyu hummed in agreement, touching the mask with his fingertips. It was rather rough. Truthfully, he could not work out what it was made of, the texture under his fingers feeling both inorganic and unfamiliar. The pat on his shoulder jerked his hand a little, and it felt only worse against his knuckles. Maybe he would try and find a way to stuff some silk between the mask and his face to protect his skin.

A somewhat forthright fellow, Chenyu gave the other a grin, reaching out to return the gesture and clap the stranger on the shoulder. “So, I’m not meant to know who you are, then,” he said, as if making sure that he had it right.

[gudandewangzi]

hixtoryofmxn·:

Royal festivities had always served to stoke a sort of fire within Sebastian. Though, this one particularly so. The addition of the masks only heightened the excitement. The realization that, for the first time in what must have been an eternity, he’d landed himself in a situation in which no one knew who he was. As often as his reputation preceded him- which, realistically, was always- managing to retain his anonymity was a glorious and welcome change from the looks and judgement he received so regularly. And still, even with the power to be and woo whomever he chose, there remained only one individual the Prince so desperately even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself fully wished to see. The meetings with Chenyu had become more frequent in nature, a fact Sebastian was not want to complain about, and had his mind been a visible platform, the thoughts of the man which swirled so frequently through would have been visible for all to see. 

His eyes scanned the room slowly, trusting his own instinct to alert him once he was sure they’d fallen upon his target. It took virtually no time at all to do so- the jet black, neatly bunned hair protruding from the mask’s back giving its owner away for the Spaniard. It was that same hair- that same luxurious, shining mane- which Sebastian had run his fingers through so many times after their trysts, while they lay side-by-side, bodies still exposed to each other in the glow of their recent activities. Making his way through the crowd, other figures seemed to blur around him as he closed the distance between himself and the Ming prince. Though he was uncertain whether the other would recognize him as immediately, he certainly hoped it would be true. “Enjoying the view?” He asked coyly, voice barely above a whisper, though he kept his hands steadfast at his sides, preparing to not be recognized. “I would not blame you, were it so. From where I find myself standing, it is one which is far beyond lovely.”

A titter at his side was the only answer to his question, yet the excitement remained in Chenyu’s blood, not dampening for a moment as he looked about the ballroom through the carved eye holes in his mask. Amongst the milling crowds glinted precious stones and shining metals, and all the colours one could think of captured in silks, velvets, and linens. A momentary thought to seek out his family passed his mind, and Chenyu glanced about for the sight of hanfu before he noticed a figure walking very much towards him.

There were only a handful of people in the Chateau that Chenyu would be able to recognise no matter their dress. Three were his sisters, three were his brothers, several were servants and one was Sebastian. Many weeks had passed since he had first been overwhelmed by the prince’s flamboyance and tugged along with a saunter and a wink. In that time Chenyu had witnessed the fire, had heard the suspicion in people’s voices, had gone to offer Sebastian solace and…

Well, the rest was history, as they say.

It was his neck that gave him away. Chenyu had enjoyed kissing that throat on many occasions. In the dark gardens, pressed up against a wall, in his own bed… He knew how it looked flushed red with exertion. He knew how it felt when it buzzed with laughter against his tongue, or soft murmurings against his lips. He had admired mouth-shaped bruises he had left upon it after their third tryst, tracing them with his fingers as they lay in bed and Chenyu told Sebastian all about 兔儿神.

By the time the Spaniard had come to a halt before him, Chenyu already had the beginnings of a smile curling the corners of his mouth, certain that his night was going to be very enjoyable, indeed. Sebastian stopped, and his voice was so low that Chenyu was forced to lean closer to him to hear his words, casting his eyes for a moment over the people surrounding them, and then grinning at the compliment.

As a prince of Ming, Chenyu had been complimented many times. But it always felt a little different when it came from Sebastian. And yet, a worrying little voice said, who is to say that Sebastian meant to compliment him? Chenyu was masked. His identity could very well have been that of any of his brothers, or the servants who had joined the ball in hanfu. For a split second, doubt pressed against Chenyu’s ribcage. Would Sebastian be disappointed, had he been looking for another?

Yet Chenyu remembered, the last time they had sat upon his bed, that when he had told Sebastian he did not want him to leave for the night, that Sebastian had smiled, and placed another red date into his mouth, and thrown his arms wide in invitation.

For a moment, Chenyu pulled back and made a show of thoroughly scrutinising the man before him, dragging his eyes from his shined black shoes, up his shapely calves, his fitting breeches and embroidered tunic, and then over the fine lace of his collar. He knew the body hidden beneath the sumptuous fabrics, and could trace the very spots which he had pressed his lips to even through layers of silk and velvet.

“I am very much enjoying it,” he said, and reached out to casually, but intimately, finger the fine edge of Sebastian’s collar. “Spanish fashion suits you almost as much as Ming bedsheets.” A flick of his eyes, from Sebastian’s collar, over his lips and to his eyes. In the action, a silent question, ‘did you already know it was me, or were you hoping for someone else?’.

[gudandewangzi]

[gudandewangzi]

ofeuphemisms·:

.

This ball was a poor choice in Sofia’s opinion. It the environment that surrounded them, considering all the things that had happened in France. The mystery was enticing in better times, but was it such a wise choice to have everyone’s face obscured by masks, their identities completely hidden from the world? The question came from her side, and Sofia tuned her head around. She could not tell who it was behind the mask, only that the accent was not a European one. “That is the point, yes. An interesting concept most of the time, but quite a risk to take considering the things we have had to face since we’ve all been here.”

The reminder of the closeness of danger, the threat that lingered over the heads of every Royal at the Chateau, dampened the excitement in Chenyu’s breast to a dim glimmer.

”Ah,” he said, remembering with discomfort the black envelope, the panic of the fire, the death of a king. The most recent of the attacks was still fresh in his mind, not for the ferocity of the blaze nor the chaos it created, but for the harried whispers it left behind. A familiar name being hissed with suspicion. If the Phantoms wished to tear the Summit talks apart, they were doing a fair job of it.

Chenyu had made it clear to Prince Sebastián that he knew he was not involved in the fire. The gratefulness with which his trust was received still made his stomach twist in ways he didn’t yet fully understand.

”When you put it that way, it’s not as fun,” Chenyu admitted, suddenly looking out of his mask at the others around the room with a sense of suspicion. There was an instinctual desire to seek out his family, his sisters, Wen Fei, but of course it would be hard to identify them and guarantee their safety on a night such as this.

[gudandewangzi]

infinitesoulsxx·:

With massive group of possible murderers and violent rioters on the loose, how could the French still find the spirit to indulge in such pampered luxuries like a masquerade ball? Richard wrinkled his nose in slight disdain under the half of a face mask he had forced himself to wear. No matter how much his growing paranoia and distrust of others revolted at the act of having to mingle with people under great disguises in every sense of the word, not knowing who was there with nefarious schemes, he was still the current King of England and thus had to force himself to play along diplomatically as possible. Honestly if anything were to go horribly awry tonight, he had half a mind to demand that everyone rip off their physical masks at the next moment. He wasn’t going to risk his life and that of his family’s for some banal entertainment.

He was about to just ignore the most obvious question ever , but the accent that accompanied the voice of the younger man was just too hard to ignore. It immediately reminded him of his beloved wife. Whipping around and giving the male the once-over, Richard was then nearly certain that this had to be from the Ming entourage. Who exactly, well that might not be too hard to find out. “Well, yes,” he forced a cordial  and slightly amused smile upon his countenance. “You sound extremely pleased by that. Do you enjoy party games like this a lot?” he inquired.

The speed with which the other moved and engaged Chenyu in conversation surprised him. Though always seeking to converse and make new acquaintances, Chenyu had learned from experience that speaking a question aloud in the Chateau did not always guarantee an answer. It was quite unlike The Forbidden City in that matter, where he was tailed by at least one servant to reply to him. And where servant’s voices were usually high (in either the feminine or emasculated manner), this voice was deep, and clipped with an accent which Chenyu believed he recognised.

The ladies in waiting who had been serving Wen Fei had not spoken much during their reunion, nor during the few other times they had spent time together. But they had spoken enough, and Chenyu had heard Wen Fei speak enough English, to recognise the particular way the English spoke their language. It was held at the front of the mouth, all tongue on teeth, tense in a way Chenyu felt he would never master. Recognising that accent in the voice of the masked man beside him, Chenyu gave a smile as he nodded an affirmative.

"Yes, but I've not played this game before," he replied. "We usually play..." Chenyu trailed off, realising he did not know if the game had a name in English, nor how to describe it accurately. "With sticks," he finally settled on saying, dissatisfied by how simple it sounded, his mouth slanting with discontent.

”Do you play?” he asked, happy to move the conversation firmly away from areas in which he felt truly stumped by the language barrier speaking in English provided.

[gudandewangzi]

@1642hqs-starters​ || open || the main ballroom || no cap

Of all the parties Chenyu had attended since arriving in France, this was by far the most confusing. Entertaining, to be sure, but… confusing, also. There was something very familiar about gazing over the crowd and being unable to recognise a single face; it was, after all, the same experience Chenyu had had when he first arrived in France. But at that time the cause had been his own lack of experience, and not the decorative masks everyone wore, or held in front of their faces.

”So the point is not to know who anyone is?” he asked aloud, through the mask which had been tied over his face by serving staff. There was, despite the obvious confusion in his voice, a great amount of delight colouring his tone. He greatly doubted The Forbidden City would ever allow such a party, would ever permit possible mixing of servants and nobles, or risk the possibility for subterfuge. The novelty bubbled in Chenyu’s body, turning his mood quickly towards giddy excitement.

[gudandewangzi]

( (ryan) ding yuxi, cis-male, he/him, 26) ** ♔ announcing CHENYU ZHU, the PRINCE OF THE MING DYNASTY ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble DING YUXI. it is a miracle that HE survived the last five years and for that reason, they are FOR the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of PUPPY-DOG EYES, BRUISED KNEES AND BROKEN BRANCHES, A CHEEKY SMILE WITH THE PASS OF A LOVE LETTER, THE SMELL OF FRESHLY GROUND INK. (snail, they/she, 27, GMT) **

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𝔹𝕀𝕆𝔾ℝ𝔸ℙℍ𝕐

Born to the unfavoured concubine  毋温 (Wύ Wēn) within the Forbidden Palace, Zhu Chenyu was quickly put to work in his mother’s schemes to remain relevant to the Emperor and keep her place within his harem. A naturally fidgety and flighty child, he struggled to contain his wishes to scramble around and play with his siblings as a youngster, often earning hours knelt in punishment for absentmindedness in class, or misbehaviour. Despite his inclination towards a life of freedom and choice, he was nonetheless a filial child, and would bear the burden of dull lectures and boring ceremonies for what little affection it granted him from his cold mother and distracted father. 

Throughout his adolescence he began to grow into a rather quiet, cramped man. The dark box of his mother’s desires crippled the bloom of his person, and made him wan and weak to outsiders. Amongst his siblings, he found himself less taxed by the expectations of his elders, and was more free to smile and laugh. Hours snatched in the warm company of his sisters or hunting with his elder brothers were some of the happiest of his life, until his early adulthood.

By the time he had reached 17, Chenyu began to realise that no matter what he did he would never be enough for his mother, who desperately wished him to be more than he was, better than he was, more cut-throat than he was. As such, he unconsciously found himself ever-drawn into dalliances with women his age and older, who might provide him some of that womanly affection he never had quite experienced.

When the troubles began, Chenyu was quite distanced from them, being protected by the thick walls of the Forbidden Palace. But soon even within the maze of residences and service-rooms the famine began to be noticeable. Having been engaged in pursuing a young and blushing petal of a maid at the time, it was impossible for Chenyu not to notice when she shrunk from slender to starved, and lost her pretty polish. In the years that followed he saw the palace staff wane, and noticed the pinch in the brows of ministers and The Emperor.

Things were only made worse when his mother fell ill. She clung to life for two years, and with the illness loosening her once lock-tight-lips, often hissed in anger about what she had learned for her spy maidservants and eunuchs. She despaired of The Ming’s weak allies, who had not come to their aid in their time of need right up to her death.

When she passed, something changed within Chenyu, something that is still changing now. Finally free from the ambitions of others, he is able to explore life as he might wish to live it - one with hunting instead of training, and finding friendship in others rather than opportunities. He was only too glad to go to France with The Emperor, to explore this new side of him, to meet others, and hopefully aid in the creation of newer, better alliances.

𝔹𝔸𝕊𝕀ℂ𝕊

COURTESY NAME: 朱讖玉/Zhū Chènyù

BIRTH NAME: 朱威/Zhū Wēi

AGE: 26

BIRTH DATE: March 10th

GENDER: Cis Male

ORIENTATION: Bisexual

LANGUAGES: Mandarin Chinese, Cantonese, French, English (though far from perfect, it is more than conversational)

RELIGION: Heaven Worship, Ancestral Worship

𝕎𝔸ℕ𝕋𝔼𝔻 ℂ𝕆ℕℕ𝔼ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝕊

A friend to help Chenyu come out of his shell - perhaps a hunting partner?

A dalliance/romantic fling

Ex-romances

Someone who can help him with his English, and/or to practice/learn another language

A bad influence! Get this man doing all the stupid things he should have done when he was a teenager but didn’t dare do.

A nemesis - perhaps they rub each other the wrong way, perhaps something more serious?