TSLSILMH Ch 49

Chapter 49

When the Young Lord leaned toward him, Xie Shu at first did not react. Those dark eyes, bright as obsidian, seemed to reflect nothing but his own figure.

Only when that soft touch brushed his cheek—did Xie Shu realize. The Young Lord had kissed him.

The lips carried a trace of coolness, yet where they pressed a fleeting peck, to Xie Shu it seared hot as a brand upon his skin.

At once, his head rang, his blood scorching, rushing back to his chest with thunderous force.

Nor was Yu Chuxi faring any better. After stealing that kiss, his lashes quivered, faint blush shimmered across his pale face. Quickly he blurted on, desperate to cover: “What cannot I do? Leave it to me then…”

He was unlike other shuang’er, content to rest within the household. To engage in such affairs brought him joy. And Xie Shu—he did not belittle him, nor bind him, but respected and supported. How could Yu Chuxi reject it? For him, or for himself—he would do well.

Yet even as he spoke, some tremor of guilt prickled him. He did not dare meet Xie Shu’s gaze. So cold his manner, so calm those eyes, that Yu feared even the kiss just now had profaned him.

But before his words were complete, Xie Shu bent slowly downward.

Time seemed to draw long and slow. In that instant Yu saw in those usually composed eyes a hidden tide swelling, a dark unspeakable current.

The sight set him trembling, heart swaying. His pulse pounded, throat dry; yet he could not look away.

Only now he learned—even the gentlemanly could bear such perilous pressure, such force of presence. So close to him, Yu felt himself adrift, strange and uncertain…

He thought to escape, shifting to stand. But Xie Shu pulled him back.

The gesture was instinctive, unthinking; how could he bear to let him go? From the instant Yu pressed lips to him, he had wondered—what if such a kiss came again?

Thus Yu fell back into his arms, discovering—those arms, how strong. The thighs that held him, muscled beneath their stillness.

Breaths mingled, close as one. Cool scent and faint perfume meshed, drawing weakness from his limbs.

When Xie Shu’s shadowed eyes bore into him, Yu felt danger’s whisper, tremors coursing through him. Pressed tighter in that embrace, their chests nearly one, he grew faint. Memories stirred—of that night in the Buddhist temple, when closeness struck the same.

Unconsciously, he reached, curling his arms round Xie Shu’s neck. At last, he dared what he had long wished.

Now, face to face, nothing could be hidden. Breath entwined, eyes locked, all hearts bared.

So near, Yu saw Xie Shu’s pupils widen, sparks flashing like lightning. So—was even this man nervous, as he was?

Suddenly, Yu’s own panic eased.

His bright, exquisite features swayed into a smile radiant enough to dim the world. He blinked, teasing softly: “Xie Shu—have you forgotten? Last time—it was you who kissed me first…”

Xie Shu’s heart throbbed fierce.

Those eyes—since moments ago, waves of soft spring had swirled within. Now, wet and luminous, looking up at him. So terribly beautiful, so terribly fragile.

And yes—he was drawn. If his heart had not already shifted, then why lean ever closer, why linger here?

But he should not.

Always he had known—he was not of this world. A traveler by chance into some time unknown, haunting another’s body. Perhaps one day, soon or suddenly, he must return.

So for this world, he was no more than a guest. All of this, ephemeral as a dream.

And if dreams dissolve?

Then what of the Young Lord? How could he bind him with false promise, only to leave him shattered?

So long, he had held his reason tight, smothered what flickered. Yet whenever those eyes clung longer, whenever those smiles bloomed for him alone—he found himself sinking, without knowing when.

Too late then, to claim saintliness. He was no sage. He was only a man, greedy—greedy for this treasure fallen into his hands.

He told himself: if truth were revealed, would the jewel still rest in his grasp?

And so he feared.

He feared that, naming it, this dream would shatter—gone, scattered as smoke.

But he knew too, of every dream one must wake. Time flees, worlds shift, seas change to fields. Only by keeping to one’s heart can one endure the storm of impermanence.

Yet even knowing, he faltered still. For he wished to cherish what stood before him—even if no end awaited.

But he could not bear to deceive. Could not leave Yu blind to truth.

So his gaze settled upon him, and at last he whispered low, with faint smile: “Yes…”

Yes. It was he who longed. It was he who reached where he should not. The fault, not the Young Lord’s.

Yu Chuxi’s joy flared—then froze.

For in Xie Shu’s eyes, gentle smile lingered, yet beneath lay a sorrow, cool and restrained—the seal of a truth that promised pain.

Yu knew then—Xie Shu was about to speak, to tell him something he both longed to understand and dreaded to hear.

And Yu did not want it. Not now. Not ever.

He clung to him, cheek to his chest, letting the embrace close tight. Feeling his warmth seep through fabric, through skin. Their heartbeats drumming together—yet his own fell heavy, aching, in sourness.

Clearly, the man was moved for him—yet held himself back.

Trembling, Yu pulled, lifting chin, drawing Xie Shu down once more. Their breaths brushed, mingling.

Redness clouded his eyes. His voice shook.

“Xie Shu—I ask you only this. I love you. Do you love me?”

Footnotes

1. 南柯一夢 (A dream of Nanke) – Idiom drawn from a Tang dynasty tale, where a man dreamed of an entire life in the realm of ants beneath a tree branch, only to awaken and find it illusion. Symbol for transient glory or ephemeral unrealities. 
2. 白駒過隙 (White horse crossing a crack) – Common Chinese metaphor for the fleeting speed of time, life rushing in an instant.