Some part of Kaifeng wondered what characters Xingyi would’ve used to write that name……until he remembered all the writing he’d seen around here, and how none of it had seemed to resemble any language that he had ever personally encountered. None of it had been anything that Liánlí-Kaifeng could read worth a damn. So, on consideration, it probably wouldn’t have mattered which characters Xingyi would’ve used to write Yùchén’s name, since probably no one living could read them anymore.
Tracing his fingers over the edge of the case, Liánlí-Kaifeng opened his mouth to speak again, when something decided to crack into his mind:
The perpetual twilight on Saturn loomed above the fields of Kaifeng like a portent of who-knew-what, but down on the ground, one might not have guessed that anything was particularly amiss. Beneath the pomegranate tree that had grown over the graves of Xingyi’s parents, the son sat perched on the flat-ish boulder once again. Far steadier than the last time Liánlí-Kaifeng had glimpsed one of these memories, Xingyi-Kaifeng held Yùchén against his shoulder, playing a wistful, melancholy tune that ached with yearning. But it seemed slower than he’d played it last time, which made no sense—until Liánlí-Kaifeng noticed the figure sitting, cross-legged, on the ground.
The same waves and braids of lemon-lime-colored hair. The same sunset-colored fuku with the knotwork harness. Huanxi—and this time, he had a musical instrument with him. Looked a bit like a zither. Bright-eyed, he listened to the section of the song that Xingyi played, then after a few bars, repeated it back. As he plucked the strings, the notes of course came out sounding different. How could they not, given the differences in the instruments that Xingyi and his husband played? But overall, the tune remained the same: beautiful, with longing and desire wrapped up in every note, in every chord.
If nothing else, Xingyi hardly seemed unsatisfied. Although pain laced the edges of his smile—the same sort of sadness that always seemed to hang around him—as he listened to Huanxi play, earnest happiness managed to shine through as well. Nodding, Xingyi offered assurances that yes……yes, that was good……exactly correct, but then, giving Huanxi music to play would probably always come out perfect……
“Xingyi,” Huanxi said gently, looking up from his zither and directly at his Xingyi, “did your mother truly compose this piece, or……?”
That question caught Xingyi off-guard; even without him saying anything, his widened eyes and the way his mouth dropped open spelled out the truth. Aside from asking so candidly, Huanxi had asked at Xingyi’s parents’ graves. Maybe Xingyi would lie about them while drunk, but he seemed physically stable this time. His expression and his eyes all had a clarity that Liánlí-Kaifeng hadn’t seen in them last time. And with sobriety, came an awareness of what it meant to lie about either of his parents while at their final resting place, of the weight that it carried and how it would have insulted them to be anything but truthful.
After a moment of silence, Xingyi slowly shook his head. “She didn’t,” he said, voice low. “I…… I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you that. It—” Swallowing thickly, Xingyi shifted Yùchén into the same hand as her bow. He fussed with his bangs, tucking them back behind one ear. He shook his head again. “……It’s my piece. I composed it.”
Huanxi tilted his head. “Did you not wish for me to know this?”
“No! No, no, it wasn’t like that, I……” Xingyi tried to smile again, but it did nothing to hide his nerves. “I really don’t know why I told you that my mother wrote it, Huanxi. It’s just—I was drunk. Got scared for no reason. But it wasn’t because of you or anything you did. Please, don’t read too much into it, okay?”
As the memory faded out, Liánlí-Kaifeng shook his head and rubbed his temple. “So, that’s a unique experience,” he said with a huff, closing up the case because Yùchén was coming home with him, there was just no way around that. “Should be prepared for that when you go visit your own Wonder. The past life memories flooding back is fun, but it can be a real doozy.”
genovianprince_
