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The last thing Mo Xi remembered was a searing pain deep in his heart, as if each nerve had been torn out of his flesh and intertwined together. He hardly even notices it, as he is distracted by the feeling of what seems to be someone’s warm, sturdy arms gently pulling him into their chest, like a warm blanket shielding him from the bitter cold—Gu Mang’s embrace often felt like this, he thought. When winter rolled around, he always made sure that Mo Xi was warm and comfortable and never once thought about his own comfort.
Despite this, all he could think of was the Gu Mang on the battleship; his wild, bloodthirsty eyes, the ribbon wrapped around his head, and the dagger in his hand, so dark that the blade did not reflect the light of the flames surrounding them. He wanted to believe that the person in front of him was a fake, a mere illusion used by the Liao Kingdom to get the great General Mo to lower his defenses. And yet despite being in a different military uniform, being on a different side, using a different weapon, being a different person, Mo Xi will always recognize Gu Mang. Even if that Gu Mang was not the Gu Mang who he once knew, a traitor.
How can Mo Xi hate Gu Mang, when he was the one who restored his faith, and always protected him from the cold? But how can he still love him as well, when he betrayed the nation they swore to protect and went ahead and left him behind, stranded in the middle of an eternal blizzard after spending years shielding him from the brutal snowstorm?
Mo Xi’s adoration for Gu Mang is something carved deep into his bones, and that fact alone came to him with ease. When he saw that bloodstained love letter, he knew that he was in it for the long run, and had naively thought that Gu Mang felt the same. Now, though, his feelings are something that will haunt him until death does them apart.
Amidst the darkness, a voice rang throughout the void, calling for him.
“Shidi, shidi!” Pitch black slowly manifested into a view of the fiery hues of red, purple, pink, and orange above a lake's calm waters. Such a thing should have felt unnatural, but the sound of a man with an ever-so-familiar voice echoed through his ears. “What’re you doing out here all alone at the dike? It felt like it took me years to finally find you.”
Alarmed, Mo Xi turned to the source only to stare straight at Gu Mang, standing in front of him, wearing Chonghua’s military uniform minus the armor. He was not holding a dagger, nor was he wearing the merit ribbon, and he was certainly not admitting that he had defected.
The glowing sunset painted his skin into a beautiful gold, while the area’s humidity seemingly made Gu Mang’s soft hair fluffier than usual. His lips were pulled into a permanent smile, and he stood with his usual confident, laid back stance with his hands on his hips.
Who else would it be if not Gu Mang? It will always be him.
Deep inside Mo Xi’s gut, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. However, even as he dug through the deepest depths of his memory, he still couldn’t remember when this happened.
“Aiya, wipe that look off your face. You’re as solemn as a funeral. Did you miss your Gu Mang-gege?” Gu Mang let out an amused chuckle.
“Shixiong...”
“Don’t worry,” Gu Mang started to fish for something tucked away in his lapels. “I’ve got a present for you. How can I ever bear to not give my Princess one when he’s two years away from his coming of age, huh? It’s your birthday today, you’re still young and beautiful unlike me.”
This must have been his eighteenth, then. This already happened. Then why does he not remember this?
Silently, he held hope that the battle at Dongting Lake was just a silly nightmare, though he did not dare hope too much. Mo Xi’s eyes softened as he gazed at him, cheeks flushing pink as he fell into his usual banter with Gu Mang as if nothing had happened. “Mn.”
Gu Mang kept digging through his lapels with a tiny tongue slipping through his lips. His eyes lit up as felt what he had been looking for and pulled the gift out, “Aha, here it is. A special present from me to my dearest princess!” He pulled out a red pouch; it was intricately embroidered with lakes and flowers, one of which Mo Xi recognizes as being the lotus flower.
“Where did you get this?” Mo Xi asked. Though the pouch wasn’t fancy and extravagant, the quality wasn’t that bad either. Expensive items were scarce in the army; the lower class couldn’t afford costly things for obvious reasons, and the nobles often left them with their family homes since it would risk losing it during a battle or if the camp were to be attacked. Though, he felt like it wasn’t just a nice pouch. It couldn’t have been empty, had it?
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t my money.” Gu Mang assured him, “Haha, I just did some errands here and there for Zhanxing and some of my bros in the army. I didn’t steal or anything, if that is what’s worrying you. Have some faith in your gege.”
He could tell that his expression twisted into obvious displeasure at the mention of Lu Zhanxing by the way that Gu Mang looked so amused.
“Aiya. Here,” He reached out to place the pouch in Mo Xi’s callused hands, smiling. “The pouch isn’t the star of the show. Look at what’s inside!”
Indeed, it was not empty—Though it wasn’t heavy, there was definitely something in the pouch. Mo Xi gingerly pulled the pouch open and gazed at the contents inside.
Dabaitu.
Mo Xi wasn’t much of a sweet tooth like Gu Mang, but he didn’t mind any desserts—it was the fact that it was dabaitu in the pouch that left him slightly bewildered. He had watched Gu Mang and Lu Zhanxing brawl over a piece of dabaitu. It felt weird that it wasn’t Mo Xi offering him dabaitu this time.
“Dabaitu?” Mo Xi said as he took a piece out of the pouch and examined it. “Why?”
“Back then, whenever Zhanxing and I fought over dabaitu, he always told me that I should share the things I really love with my loved ones. A little childish, isn’t it?” Gu Mang laughed, moving to lean over the dike and take in the view of the sunset. Mo Xi subconsciously did the same, still staring at the pouch filled with candy in his hands.
“I always gave it some thought, but I still didn’t give him any. So I thought, I should share my favorite, prized candy of all with my Mo-shidi! I’ve never shared dabaitu with anyone, even as a kid. It’s your first time spending your birthday with me, so why not make it extra special by adding another first to this first?”
Mo Xi was dumbfounded. “And that first is?”
“My first-time-sharing-something-I-really-love-with-my-loved-one,” Gu Mang shuffled closer to Mo Xi so that they were shoulder to shoulder. “You’ll be the first. Isn't it exciting?”
He remained silent, processing the words in his head as his hand still held the pouch while the other held the candy. A beat passed until he said, “Thank you. For spending your first with me.”
Gu Mang seemed calm, but he visibly stilled, eyes widening a fraction and Mo Xi swears that he was blushing. He snapped out of his trance a second later, saying: “Why don’t you try one, ah? I made the dabaitu myself.”
“...You made it yourself?”
“Of course, you little dummy,” He replied. “I already bought you the pouch, so I should make the candy myself; That way, your gift has all of my love poured into it.”
Mo Xi didn’t reply. He gently tore open the wrapper, putting the light yellow dabaitu in his mouth. As he chewed, his mouth was filled with a burst of flavor. It was soft and chewy with the right amount of banana and milk.
Without knowing it, his lips were pulled into a tiny smile, and he was already reaching inside the pouch for a second piece. “It’s really good. Everything you make is good.”
Gu Mang beamed, the spark in his brilliant black eyes more evident than before. He gazed into Mo Xi’s eyes, “I’m glad you liked it, shidi. Do you know what made it so good?”
Mo Xi turned to look at him, slightly confused. The dabaitu tasted just like how dabaitu would, he only liked this one as it was Gu Mang who made it; Yet he knew that Gu Mang often added his own twists into his dishes. “What is it?”
“The fact that all it cost was my love,” Gu Mang grinned, sharp canines standing out from the rest of his teeth. The sun was almost gone at this point, with the sky shifting from its bright reds and oranges to an inky blue and purple. He sighed, content, and said before Mo Xi could respond: “Aiya, it’s starting to get dark. What are we still doing, chatting out in the cold ah? Let’s go back to camp to celebrate your birthday properly!”
Gu Mang took off, walking back into the forest towards the encampment, his smile still present on his face. Thinking that the battle of Dongting Lake was really just a nightmare, Mo Xi prepared to follow Gu Mang in suit, but found that his feet stayed stuck to the ground beneath him, not moving even as he used every muscle in his body.
All Mo Xi could do was watch as Gu Mang’s figure disappeared into the darkness.
Panic settled into his body, bursts of adrenaline pumping through his blood. “Gu Mang!” He called after him, but it was as if his voice wasn’t reaching him. As if it would never reach him. “Gu Mang!”
No matter how many times he called after Gu Mang, Gu Mang never turned back to look at him. When he quickly blinked, his view turned into the sight of the ceiling of his bedroom in Xihe Manor, and yet that did not stop him from calling out Gu Mang’s name one last time.
“Mo-dage?” A female voice blurted out from beside him. Next to him sat Murong Mengze, surprise and confusion written on her face.
He had awoken from a dream, and perhaps even called out for Gu Mang in his sleep. Of course it was only a dream, a memory from the past. And that dream was going to be the first of many dreams.
———
To Mo Xi and the servants of Xihe Manor, Xihe Manor always felt like it was a gloomy mausoleum rather than a home.
If the manor was a mausoleum, then what’s buried inside it? Mo Xi remembered a servant saying in hushed tones, before they were promptly silenced by another.
Mo Xi walked through the desolate hallways of Xihe Manor, uncaring for how late it was at night. Out of the millions of people living in Chonghua, only Mo Xi truly knew that Xihe Manor was the mausoleum of the blissful life he never got to live.
Every day and night, Mo Xi mourns. Mo Xi mourns for the Gu-shixiong who laughed as he darted into the rainstorm, for the General Gu who had a smile on his face even at the face of death, for the Gu Mang whose heart always ached for the people, his comrades, and Mo Xi himself.
Except Gu Mang isn’t even dead. Just gone. And yet he mourns for the traitor who is gone.
Passing by the main hall, Mo Xi looks over at the teacups that were made to be used by a pair of lovers, the chairs arranged in two. When he bought the teacups, he thought of sitting together with Gu Mang and chatting over a cup of tea, and Gu Mang rambling about how eventful his day was. When he built the hot spring, he thought of how he did so so that Gu Mang wouldn’t bathe in cold, dirty rivers anymore, and would instead indulge himself in a warm and peaceful bath. The manor's pond was filled with the same lotus as the coat of arms that Gu Mang created for himself, the lotus etched onto the side of their necks. The entire manor was built with Gu Mang in mind.
“Zhushang,” Came a someone’s voice from behind him.
Recognizing him, Mo Xi whipped around to face Li Wei. He was a young man much like himself, a former servant in the palace who was assigned to take care of him when he was recuperating from the battle at Dongting Lake.
Li Wei’s mouth hung open in mild surprise. “Zhushang, it’s the Hour of Chou…shouldn’t you be in bed resting?”
“...” Mo Xi said nothing, his expression only growing darker and darker as he stared at Li Wei.
“Ah, nevermind, nevermind. I apologize, Zhushang.” Li Wei sighed inwardly. “Zhushang, please go back and rest. The night is cold.” He said urgently before whispering under his breath, “Aiyo, His Majesty will seriously have my head if he ever finds out that I wasn’t taking care of you properly...”
He could tell that Li Wei was looking at him with pity. Mo Xi wanted to scold him for this, but kept his mouth sealed shut as Li Wei escorted him back to his room. Although Li Wei was annoying at times, he admits that he was certainly better than any other person who previously served him—Li Wei had a very... peculiar character, but he did not shrivel up in fear in his presence, nor did he always stumble over his words to the point when Mo Xi can’t even recognize what he was saying, and so he was content with this new housekeeper of his.
“This humble servant bids you goodnight, Zhushang!” He heard Li Wei say from behind him before the door was shut right after.
Once again, Mo Xi was left alone. He would sleep in a bed too big for one person, inside a home made for two.
———
A few weeks passed by, and Mo Xi was deemed to be fit to return to the battlefield. When he did, the Liao Kingdom’s tactics were achingly familiar.
At surface level, it was different from the ones that the Northern Frontier Army had gotten used to, however Mo Xi thinks otherwise. Gu Mang made it so that their tactics this time around seemed different from the strategies he used in Chonghua at a glance, but no one else knows him more than Mo Xi.
When Gu Mang was still on Chonghua’s side, his fearlessness made the Liao Kingdom’s cultivators cower like dogs as his army charged through blood and filth, winning victory after victory. Who else would have given said dogs the courage to go against Chonghua’s forces?
When Gu Mang led his first battle as the commander of Wangba Army, Mo Xi stood by his side and watched him pore over the sand table.
He had some doubts and looked down at Gu Mang, saying: “It seems a little reckless. You’ve just been given your army, and you were injured recently… It’s important to be careful and recover your strength first.”
Gu Mang smiled and told him, “Silly you, I’ve mostly recovered already. Of course strength is important, shidi, but have you seen the army this shixiong of yours has amassed? Some of them are young, old, and may not excel in cultivation, but I know them—nothing scares them to death at all. No matter how strong you are, what role would it play if you always hold back? It’s their courage that gives them the ability to move forward. Before every battle, I promise my comrades that I will bring them home, and each step forward is a step closer to home.”
Later, Gu Mang and his army returned to Chonghua’s encampment in triumph, his blazing black eyes shining brighter than the stars themselves despite being covered head to toe in dirt and blood. To Chonghua’s surprise, the battle was won. The public roared with surprise and delight, while the nobles grumbled in displeasure; they protested, spouting nonsense such as: “The higher you climb, the harder you fall,” “Clearly letting a slave lead his own army is a mistake!” and “Isn’t His Majesty afraid that he will become the next Hua Po’an?”
Squinting through the blood in his eyes, Mo Xi knew that this current battle will result in their loss. After all, Gu Mang had won a glorious thirty-eight battles, had he not? It was only that his first defeat was all that it took for him to begin his descent into hell.
It was only after Gu Mang defected did the words “the higher you climb, the harder you fall” sink deep into his head. Gu Mang’s reputation had collapsed in a matter of minutes after the discovery of his defection.
Are you here? A part of Mo Xi wants to ask, the screams and shouts of the people around the battlefield seemingly quiet compared to the burning anguish in his chest.
Are you here? Do you still have the nerve to face me after everything you’ve done?
I hate you, Mo Xi wants to say when he doesn’t spot Gu Mang on the battlefield anyway. Maybe it is for the best, since Mo Xi were to give into his deepest, twisted desires, he would show him nothing but cruelty. His hand would be fisted tight in Gu Mang’s hair as he dragged him back to his manor to lock him in and torment him. I hate you. I don’t want to hate you.
His legs trembled as he struggled to get back up on his feet. Mo Xi does not know if it was because of his fury or his exhaustion—it could be both, even. Summoning the last bits of his energy, he summons the Tuntian Barrier and shouts for his men to fall back.
———
This time, Mo Xi is aware that he’s dreaming.
After going through his day like normal as if it wasn’t the thirteenth of January, he retreated to his quarters and back into his too-big bed.
There’s a stumble in Gu Mang’s steps, and the alcohol in the jug he was holding would have spilled if Mo Xi wasn’t there to stabilize him. He’s giggling, spouting nonsense and slurring his words. He’d gone off about how much food and drinks he managed to get from one of the many ladies he’s charmed, how he is that his brothers’ stomachs were being filled with delicious food.
A lump forms in his throat, his empty mind wandering off to somewhere else. His body doesn’t feel like his own, as if he was merely a spectator stuck deep inside and he was just a puppet on strings. His eyes pin itselves to the side of Gu Mang’s head, and his gut screams at him to do something, to say something.
There’s no doubt that this Gu Mang would go ahead and betray him again. Right now, he can do anything to Gu Mang. He can torture him, kill him, and avenge every single person that Gu Mang has killed in cold blood, even if it was just in a mere dream.
But he doesn’t.
Because he can never bring himself to do it, can’t he? Even as thousands of voices haunt him, scream at him to avenge them and finally kill Chonghua’s infamous traitor, he can never bring himself to lift the sword and strike. He can’t even bring himself to pick it up.
“Aiyo,” Gu Mang slurred. “How come you’re taller than me now, shidi? Just a moment ago, it felt like I was the one towering over the other. Now you’re like... half a foot taller than me? Youngsters grow up so fast, ah...” He descended into more incoherent blabbering, almost tripping over a rock that was in his way.
Mo Xi wants to bask in this moment, although he knows it all too well. It’s just a dream, a figment of his imagination that is desperate to have what he no longer can, but it’s just like the past. Gu Mang is here, his beloved hasn’t abandoned him, and the eternal scar he left on his heart isn’t there.
His heart aches, though it has always ached at the thought of Gu Mang. A wave of gut-wrenching nostalgia crashes over him, the familiarity of it all so torturous as if it was taking the form of the dagger that Gu Mang stabbed him with. It felt like it’s been years since he’s heard that cheerful voice, but in reality, it hasn’t even been two.
It’s surreal; the past few months have passed by like a horrible nightmare, and Mo Xi spends his twenty-fourth birthday alone as he was destined to be.
The flowers have withered, the rain is unrelenting, and the long winter has begun.
———