Rege lowered his voice, slowly singing a nursery rhyme close to Jian Qiaoâs ear.
As he sang, he gently rocked Jian Qiaoâs body and patted his back like a father coaxing his child to sleep.
He knew Jian Qiao needed calm.
Jian Qiao had never been treated like this. He was an illegitimate child, and his very existence was shameful, scorned, and cursed. Heâd never been embraced by his father, his mother, or any of his relatives.
If it ever happened, it was so long ago he didnât remember.
But at this moment, he was being held, patted, and coaxed by Rege like a little child, completely protected and safe.
The fears that haunted his heart were gone.
âYou truly are the light that shines on me in the dark.â He lifted his head to gaze up at Rege, his eyes smiling.
Seeing him relax, Rege also smiled.
âItâs better now, isnât it?â he asked in a soft voice.
Several of his knights stole glances at him with shocked eyes. Oh God! They actually heard Lord Rege singing a nursery rhyme⊠so terrifying!
âItâs much better. Are the clothes ready? Weâll change when theyâre dry.â Jian Qiao noticed the knightsâ sidelong looks, so he quickly took up his cloak and put it on, then squirmed out of Regeâs warm embrace.
Rege let out a muffled grunt and his eyes became dull. When he lost the person in his arms, his heart felt empty for a moment.
It was getting late, and several knights went into the woods to catch some prey for Jian Qiao, packing them in burlap sacks so as not to reveal any blood.
When the bugle sounded, everyone met at the rendezvous point as scheduled. No one noticed anything unusual.
Rege personally sent Jian Qiao back to the hotel.
When they parted, one of them sat on horseback by the side of the street, looking up; the other stood on the balcony, staring silently for a long time with his head down. It wasnât until the darkness enveloped the city and they could no longer see each otherâs faces that they waved their hands and turned away.
Back at the ducal palace, Rege strode into the gallery. He stood before the portrait of the ăWater Nymphă hanging in the foremost position on the wall.
The goddessâ long, wet black hair clung to her smooth white back. She turned her head toward the viewer, revealing a face without any features.
Rege hung his head and stopped looking at the painting. After a moment of silence he suddenly said, âTake it down.â
The servant froze.
âTake it down.â Regeâs tone was more determined than the first time.
Only then did the servant bring the âĄâĄ and carefully remove the portrait.
Rege took it without a word, strode outside, and casually threw this treasure, the one he had cherished and babied for several years, onto the roaring bonfire.
The butler had been lighting torches by the fire and distributing them to the soldiers on patrol. He was almost speechless with amazement.
âMy lord! This is your water goddess!â he scrambled to give a warning, grabbing an iron hook to pick the painting out.
âBurn it.â Rege waved his hand without explaining.
That night he had a dream. In the dream he dived into a deep, dark pool of water. Trapped at the bottom was Jian Qiao. Rege fished him out and the man was pale and luminous all over, so soft and tender, with his slender legs wrapped around Regeâs waist, sobbing, quietly whimpering, as if he was afraid of being drowned but also afraid of being scorched to death by Rege.
Rege kissed him madly.
He slurped the sweet skin of the peach and sucked out the syrupy, luscious juices.
This was his goddess of water.
After waking with a start, Rege had to change into a clean pair of pants. He lay down again only to find the quilt was full of the smell of photinia.
The scent kept him dreaming all night, with the same content repeated in different scenes.
When he woke up from the dream dripping sweat, Rege raked his hair in annoyance and cursed, âFuck being friends!â
â
Jian Qiao hadnât seen Rege for seven consecutive days. This put him in a very low mood.
In a few more days heâd leave, so he was desperately eager to see his best friend. After parting they might meet only once a year, or even less.
Desolette was too far away from Grande. In this era of limited transportation, it was the distance between one horizon and another.
When Jian Qiao couldnât resist the urge of taking the liberty of calling on the ducal residence, he finally received an invitation from Rege.
âYouâre here.â Rege, who was standing by the window, looked back at Jian Qiao.
He was dressed casually and simply, wearing only a thin white shirt, black leggings, and boots. The shirt wasnât buttoned properly, revealing a large, firm, sturdy chest, and the fabric of the pants clung to his legs, tracing the texture of every explosive muscle.
No one knew more clearly than Jian Qiao how hard and reliable this chest was and how powerful these legs were.
He quickly walked over to embrace his best friend, whom he hadnât seen in days.
âI want to show you something.â Rege took a step back and politely refused the hug.
He stared deeply at Jian Qiao, and a fiercely suppressed emotion surged in his blue eyes. This reaction was like a dark fire, making Jian Qiaoâs scalp tingle.
âWhat do you want to show me?â Jian Qiao had no choice but to stop where he was.
âLook at this. It took me seven days to finish.â Rege gestured to a painting beside him covered with a white cloth.
It was only then that Jian Qiao noticed its existence.
Rege lifted the white cloth, and his voice was hoarse: âThis is my gift to you. Itâs called ăDanaĂ«ă.â
Danaë was a character in Greek mythology. Her father was a king who received a secret oracle.
The oracle told him the future son born to his daughter, Danaë, would kill him.
To prevent the prophecy from becoming a reality, the king imprisoned DanaĂ« in a dungeon completely in the dark. Except for a maid, she wasnât allowed to see any other person or even any male animal. She lived in never-ending solitude and darkness.
Even so, her beauty was discovered by the omniscient Zeus who swept across the sky.
While the spell-enchanted dungeon could block the incursion of mortals and even gods, it couldnât block the rays of the sun. There would always be crevices in the stone slabs of the dungeon.
So Zeus turned into a ray of sunlight, shone on Danaë and made her conceive.
On the canvas, a naked young man was lying on his back in a dark dungeon. His ankle-length black hair wrapped around his pale body like rippling seaweed, and the gaps between the locks of hair revealed his exquisite skin and soft, supple flesh.
A ray of sunlight broke through a crack in the dungeon and shone on the tips of his feet, so the toes were tightly curled and faintly pink. A few pale blue veins burst out of the taut backs of his feet, indicating how strongly the youth was stimulated.
His head rested on his slender arm, revealing a slightly frowning face and flushed cheeks below the disordered black hair.
His white shell teeth tightly bit his lips, which turned them a gorgeous blood-red, and his tearful eyes seemed filled with endless pain, but also endless joy.
Since birth he had never seen the sun, and he was ignorant of love. The first ray of sunlight he saw and the first love he tasted brought him to the peak of unimaginable passion.
Jian Qiao looked at the painting in astonishment, because the boy in the painting had a face identical to his.
Of course he knew what would happen when the sun shone on Danaë. She sank into light and shadow, offering herself to the highest god in unremitting ecstasy and joy.
It was a painting filled with light and heat, with love and lust in every stroke!
The superb painting technique made sultry desire spill out from the canvas, vividly depicting the youthâs purest and most wanton self. Its aesthetic style and striking emotional color would win admiration from the most authoritative artists.
But why did Rege paint it?
Didnât he know what happened to DanaĂ« because of this ray of sunlight? And why did he bring his own image into it?
Jian Qiao pointed at the painting and looked at Rege with a puzzled face.
Rege approached step by step. In a deep voice he said, âYou are like DanaĂ«, imprisoned in utter darkness. The difference is that she was imprisoned by her father, while your jailer is yourself.â
Jian Qiao opened his mouth, but he couldnât refute it.
The words pointed directly to the fetters on his morbid soul.
Rege extended his arms and trapped Jian Qiao between the door and his chest.
He lowered his eyes to stare at the man who showed slight signs of panic, saying slowly, âRemember? You said I was your light.â
Jian Qiao was burned by his friendâs scorching gaze, turning the tips of his ears red, throwing his mind into disorder.
âI, I remember.â He reached out and put his hand against the strong and oppressive chest of his friend.
Rege chuckled softly, and his voice became more hoarse, âI really want to be your light, but that light is like the light that shines on DanaĂ«, with love and erotic desire. Just as Zeus did to DanaĂ«, I want to do to you. I want to shine through you inside and out, do you understand? When I painted this picture, all I could think about was how to love you!â
When he said this, his hot breath sprayed on Jian Qiaoâs shocked face.
Jian Qiaoâs eyes were wide open, frozen in place.
The temperature of those words was so hot they made him dizzy.
âI love you,â Rege whispered in Jian Qiaoâs ear, gasping as he said, âand I want to make love to you.â
His extremely aggressive body completely covered Jian Qiao.
The word âloveâ was like a sharp blade that instantly cut into Jian Qiaoâs soul. He was afraid of darkness, blood, water, and being alone, but the one thing he feared above everything else was love.
He saw the irrepressible emotion in Regeâs eyes and recalled his motherâs screaming when she died and that womanâs words of gibberish as she stabbed the knife into his heart.
Everything heâd experienced again and again taught Jian Qiao a cruel truthâlove is destruction.
He was so scared that he was sweating and his hairs were standing up. He quickly reached out to push Rege away, but Rege pinched his chin with one hand and pressed the back of his head with the other and forcefully demanded a kiss.
These delicate lips and the pink tongue hidden behind them were even sweeter and softer than he ever could have imagined.
He narrowed his eyes in intoxication, then stuck in his tongue and frantically plundered Jian Qiaoâs mouth.
The sticky feeling of being invaded made Jian Qiaoâs fear rise to the peak. He couldnât break free from Regeâs imprisonment, so all he could do was viciously bite the other manâs tongue.
Rege gave a stifled grunt of pain.
The iron taste that filled his mouth made Jian Qiao realize Rege was bleeding. Out of fear of blood he pushed Rege away with all his strength, then he bent down, supporting himself against the door panel, and dry-heaved repeatedly in the corner.
In Regeâs ears this retching sound was louder than five cracks of thunder sounding all at once.
He looked at Jian Qiao with a pale face, but quickly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth so Jian Qiao wouldnât see it. Even in this bitterly disappointing situation he didnât forget to take care of Jian Qiaoâs emotions.
âWe, weâll never see each other again,â Jian Qiao spoke vaguely but firmly, covering his bloody mouth with a handkerchief.
Then he pushed open the door, and under Regeâs desperate gaze, he ran without looking back.
TL Notes:
I modeled the poem in this chapter on The Fairies by William Allingham. Some similar poems include The Stolen Child by W. B. Yeats and of course Erlkönig by Goethe.
photinia â Chinese photinia, Photinia serratifolia â Heads up, fujos and fudans, you might run into this again. Wikipedia: âIts flowers are known to have a strong scent similar to that of human semen.â
Transliterated names, titles, and placesânew in this chapter:
çœćæŻ â LuĂłLĂšSÄ« â Lorres, a possibly mythical place where elves dwell. Alternatively: Rollers, Roars, Basilius, Rawles, Lawrence