The morning light filtered through thin curtains, pale gold spilling across He Ju's chamber. The air still smelled faintly of horse and night wind, tangled with something warmer—the scent of Yunxi's skin where he had pressed against He Ju through the long hours.
He Ju stirred first. His arm had gone stiff beneath the weight of Yunxi's head, but he did not move. He only lay there, staring down at the fragile boy curled against him. Yunxi's lashes fluttered in restless dreams, his breath soft, his body folded in on itself as though the world outside might break him if he opened his eyes.
He Ju's chest ached.
He had imagined Yunxi like this before—soft, helpless, trusting him. He had imagined it for years, though never dared speak it aloud. But now here Yunxi was, tangled in his sheets, clinging to him as if He Ju alone could keep the world at bay.
He Ju brushed his knuckles gently along Yunxi's temple. "You poor thing," he whispered. "What have they done to you?"
The boy stirred, as if sensing the touch. His lips parted. Slowly, his eyes opened—wet, reddened, rimmed with exhaustion.
"He Ju…" Yunxi's voice was hoarse, small. His gaze shifted up to the man above him, and for an instant, something cold flickered there, gone too quickly to notice.
He Ju gathered him closer. "Don't speak yet. You're safe here. Nothing will harm you under my roof."
Safe. The word coiled in Yunxi's chest like bitter irony. He pressed his cheek to He Ju's shirt, hiding the faint smile that threatened. Safe, yes—safe, because He Ju wanted to believe he was needed. Because desire blinded more surely than loyalty.
"I…" Yunxi let his voice tremble, shaping it carefully, "I shouldn't have come here. I'll bring trouble to your door."
"Don't." He Ju cupped Yunxi's chin, tilting his face up. "Don't speak like that. If trouble follows you, then let it come. I would rather stand with you than watch you suffer alone."
The intensity in his eyes startled Yunxi, though he masked it with a shiver. Such devotion—it was almost too easy. He let his gaze waver, filling it with fragile fear.
He Ju's hold tightened, his breath sharp. "Han Ji."
The name was spat like poison. Yunxi lowered his lashes, letting silence confirm it without needing words.
"He's always despised you," He Ju muttered. "But this—this is monstrous. Yunxi, you're too good for their cruelty. Too gentle. Too—" His voice broke before he could say more.
Yunxi leaned into him, trembling just enough. "Will you believe me, then?" he whispered. "Even if they all turn against me?"
He Ju pressed his forehead to Yunxi's hair. "Always. Always, Yunxi."
And there it was—the lock snapping shut. Yunxi closed his eyes, hiding the satisfaction beneath a veil of tears. Already, He Ju had chosen his side. Already, he would shield Yunxi from suspicion, not because of truth, but because of want.
---
Later, when He Ju left to fetch food, Yunxi rose quietly from the bed. His limbs still felt heavy from the night's ride and the storm of weeping he had forced upon himself. Yet his mind was sharp, clear as a blade.
The room smelled faintly of He Ju—cedar and ink, parchment and steel. Yunxi wandered lightly, fingertips trailing across a shelf of books, the edge of a chair. He studied the space the way one might study a chessboard. Every detail mattered.
He paused before the low table where a cup of tea had gone cold. Setting his own hand against the wood, he tipped it ever so slightly, spilling the last of its liquid across the surface. A faint stain spread, catching the morning light. Beside it, he left his hair ribbon, slipped deliberately from his hand.
Evidence. Threads.
Let them whisper later that he had spent the night in He Ju's chambers. Let them see a ribbon, a stain, a sheet rumpled with two bodies' warmth. Let them believe whatever made the perfect alibi. He didn't care what they of him, this was body afterall, and he hadn't done whatever they think. Yunxi cared about only keeping his life. Nobody would kill him for loving someone, there wasn't any law that said Aman couldn't love another man. People feel disgusted but he will still be alive and his father, family will still be alive too.
When He Ju returned, carrying a tray with bread and broth, Yunxi was back in the bed, folded small beneath the coverlet, ribbonless, pale as morning frost.
"Eat something," He Ju urged gently.
Yunxi let him feed him spoonfuls, lips barely parting, eyes glistening with exhaustion. He let his fingers linger against He Ju's when the bread was offered, then pulled back shyly, as though ashamed of needing help.
It worked. He Ju's breath hitched, his cheeks coloring faintly. Yunxi caught it, noted it, stored it away. Desire was such a predictable key. He was going to walk away with it.
---
When the afternoon sun burned higher, He Ju was called away to speak with a steward. Yunxi was left alone again, sitting by the window where sheer curtains shifted in the breeze.
His reflection in the glass startled him for a moment. Soft face, tear-reddened eyes, hair falling loose around his shoulders. The perfect image of innocence. The perfect lie.
He lifted his hand, studying the faint rawness at his palms where he had scrubbed the blood away. For a moment, the memory of the soldier's gasp flickered again—the shock in his eyes, the wet rattle as life drained out.
His stomach twisted. Not from guilt, not anymore. But from the power of it. The knowledge that one whisper, one blade, one lie could bend reality itself.
He Ju believed him without question. He Ju would swear before gods and kings that Yunxi was innocent. And not because Yunxi was good or pure—but because He Ju wanted to believe. Because Yunxi had made him want it.
Yunxi's lips curved faintly.
"So easy," he murmured to his reflection. "So easy to shape their truths." he spoke carelessly. What had he become? No...what had they turned him into?
The words felt like a confession, yet no one would hear them. Only the glass, only the shifting curtain, only the heart inside him, blacker than before.
He had done it, and there was no turning back. Yunxi didn't feel like going home.
He knew if they had known he wasn't there, A word would have reached everywhere, maybe they haven't discovered it yet. Afterall his family didn't care what went on in his life. So they haven't checked on him? And here he was, staining his hands for them..how pathetic he must be?
---
That evening, He Ju returned once more. His face was weary, but when he saw Yunxi waiting by the window, his expression softened into something warm, almost adoring.
"Forgive me," He Ju said, setting aside his cloak. "Affairs of the household keep dragging me away, but I swear, I would rather never leave your side."
Yunxi turned slowly, letting the light catch his pale cheek, the fragile curve of his mouth. He let silence stretch, then whispered, "Thank you… for believing me."
"I will always believe you," He Ju said, stepping closer. "No matter what comes."
Yunxi lowered his gaze, hiding the ice in his eyes behind a mask of tenderness. He let He Ju take his hand, let him brush his thumb across delicate knuckles as if touching something sacred.
Inside, Yunxi thought coldly: Then I'll make sure you never have a reason to stop.
And when He Ju kissed the back of his hand, eyes filled with devotion, Yunxi smiled faintly, fragile as porcelain.
---
That night, when He Ju finally slept, Yunxi remained awake. He lay on his side, watching the slow rise and fall of the man's chest, listening to the rhythm of breath.
How strange, he thought. To be held by someone who adored him, even as he plotted lies in their arms. To be cherished, while knowing he would use that affection like a shield of steel.
His gaze drifted to the ribbon he had left on the table, still resting where it had fallen. A silent witness. A silent promise.
He closed his eyes and whispered to himself, words no one else would hear:
"Love me. Trust me. Protect me. That is the price of wanting me."
And in the darkness, his heart beat steady—not with guilt, but with the certainty that he would survive, no matter what rot spread inside him.