Touch of Silk

     To Liu Xia, the feeling of silk was unlike any other material on earth.

     Soft to the touch, like the embrace of a summer spring. When Hong Zhong traced a finger across the fabric, it seemed to melt alongside his skin, as if aiming to mold into perfection. The particular garment, a bridal veil presented by Hong Zhong, was delicate, of loose loomed thread to allow for the slightest bit of transparency– when worn as intended, a bride’s face would be obscured, but not entirely hidden. It was the pinnacle of mortal-made beauty, for a woman as beautiful as silk itself.

     And yet, Liu Xia was no woman.

     “You expect me to wear this?” He asked, unable to take his eyes off the silk. It was intricate, laced up with gold and jewels. It was a piece of art turned garment, fine and expensive beyond belief for the common folk.

     “Ah, so you are thinking about it,” Hong Zhong teased, low voice deep and as smooth as the silk itself. The man had clearly brought the veil to take a rise out of Liu Xia.

     And to Liu Xia‘s annoyance, it was working– though he would never let it show. With one single breath, in, then out, he pictured the heat of his cheeks vanishing away. He would not allow his facade to match the color of the veil.

     “You are not supposed to be here,” Liu Xia tried instead. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

     “Oh, was this a bad time?” Hong Zhong’s body tensed up, eyes looking around in heightened surprise, an ersatz version of a repenting man, “I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to disturb your bedtime, my lord.”

     Liu Xia sighed, knowing perfectly well that whatever he had to say, would be used against him. That was just how Hong Zhong was, all product of a charming silver tongue. And yet…

     Winter had quickly settled itself as the pair’s biggest enemy– passive, but dangerous nonetheless: though the cold was no bother to Liu Xia himself, finding the chill of the air nothing but a harmless change in temperature, winter had a strong hold on his schedule, and the people he met through it. The elders were not as fond of winter as Liu Xia was himself, and they urged each other to take advantage of the scarce sunlight throughout the day for more leisure matters. Liu Xia found it annoying, but he would be asked again and again to push meetings further into the night– because being indoors was warm at any hour, so why not do so when the sun was already gone?

     This posed a problem when it came to his own meetings, the ones that happened through closed doors and in hushed whispers. Hong Zhong was an avid master of the night and had always preferred to sneak through when the moon had already settled. Before now, they would find her as their sole witness to their company, but through the cold of winter, the estate would not be empty when it was before. Staying the night, roaming the hallways, Liu Xia’s elders and their guards, all armed, all hostile to the mere idea of Hong Zhong and his people, would be just a door away.

     And yet, Hong Zhong found it within himself to test his luck.

     Liu Xia did not understand, no matter how much he tried, why Hong Zhong was so seemingly irritated by what Liu Xia considered to be a perfectly reasonable security measure. It was a straightforward affair, though a bit inconvenient, yet Hong Zhong would not shut up about his disagreement on it. It limited their time to see each other, even when it had been limited in the first place, and so Hong Zhong snaked his way into Liu Xia‘s life when the man least expected it. One such time was the middle of the night, through an open window. If Liu Xia hadn’t woken up by the cold air and recognized his lover’s silhouette behind the curtains, he might have had a heart attack on the spot.

     His reason for sneaking in didn’t help his frustration, either, as Hong Zhong had shown up with a bride’s veil and a wicked smile on his face. Nothing more, nothing less.

     “Do you truly want me to leave,” Hong Zhong asked, looking uninterestedly at the open window.

     All of this, Hong Zhong‘s seemingly unjustified reason to protest his hours, and sneak into his room, was still not enough for Liu Xia not to welcome his presence. Because it was a cold night in the Liu Xia family estate. And the night was colder when sleeping alone.

     “Stay,” Liu Xia finally said, despite himself. The smirk that grew on Hong Zhong’s lips told him this was only adding to his ever-growing ego. Did this man think he could do it all, with no consequence or repercussion? “But only until there is no doubt that the halls are empty, and everyone else is truly asleep. I do not want you fool to risk yourself being caught again.”

     “You think too little of me?” Hong Zhong pouted, and just as quickly as he joked, he was changing the subject, “Did you not like my gift?”

     “It’s absurd,” Liu Xia sighed.

     Slowly, like a predator sizing prey, Hong Zhong made his way closer to his lover. Liu Xia stood his ground, all too familiar with the man’s idea of a game.

     “Do you not think this would look good on you?” Hong Zhong asked, twirling the fabric around his fingers.

     “May I ask what this is all about?” Liu Xia grumbled instead. His voice was tense, yet controlled as much as he could. He never knew who could be on the other side of the door, after all.

     “I wish you would relax around me,” called Hong Zhong. Finally, his fingers reached for his partner’s shoulders, as if offering to share whatever weight he carried upon them. In one way or another, it worked, and Liu Xia felt his shoulders drop if just a little.

     “I wish you would not barge in like this,” he said with a sigh, less bite upon his bark this time around. More a request than anything, “If you wish for a meeting, we can always arrange–”

     “You know meetings with those elders are nothing more than bread and circus,” Hong Zhong rolled his eyes, “I am here, and so are you. This time around, we are free to speak our minds, if you stop being afraid of it.”

     “I am not afraid of speaking my mind, less of all around you.”

     “Perfect,” Hong Zhong smiled. “So, once again, do you not like my gift?”

     Liu Xia, now comfortable enough to drop any weight left on his shoulders, allowed himself to take another peak at the veil. Still beautiful, still too feminine for himself.

     “I would not wear that,” he stated, though the words hid a hint of a tease, “Are you here asking me to marry you? That is bold, Hong Zhong.”

     “Is my whole persona not bold, as you say?”

     Liu Xia rolled his eyes, “No veil for me.”

     “Fine then.”

     Hong Zhong grabbed onto the garment, making a spectacle to drag it atop his own head. As he did, he purposefully moved the silk forward, teasing Liu Xia’s skin with it, caressing his shoulders and neck. The man shuddered but held down any other reaction. His eyes were focused on Hong Zhong and Hong Zhong alone.

     He wrapped the veil around himself, a crude imitation of a bride on her wedding day. His features were painted red, obscured, but still visible through the fabric.

     “If you will not wear it,” He said, “Maybe I should.”

     “Very becoming of a mafia boss like yourself.”

     “Take this seriously,” Hong Zhong whined, very much not taking anything seriously himself. “I am your wife. You must take responsibility for me. Do you understand such commitment?”

     Liu Xia chuckled, despite himself, “I am the head of the Liu family. I have been told about such commitment ever since I was a child– marrying a fair maiden and all that crap.”

     “That’s right,” Hong Zhong nodded. He reached forward, index finger holding his partner’s chin up. “We meet at night so much, you might as well assimilate me into the family. I am no common whore, if you desire a woman of such class, you must take that full responsibility head-on.”

     It was absurd, how easily Hong Zhong would go along with one of his wild stories, farfetched and illogical. Even more absurd, how Liu Xia would allow himself to follow his lead, and joke around as if they were nothing more than a young couple in love, no nobility or war looming within their shadows.

     But it was the dead of the night. He could do what he wanted.

     Liu Xia caught Hong Zhong’s hand, gently pulled it away from his chin, and instead brought it up to kiss it.

     “A fair, fair maiden,” he murmured, voice deep and raspy, “Caught in the web of the Liu family’s lies. Have I seduced you, tainted your pure heart, forced you to marry a scoundrel?”

     “Excuse you,” Hong Zhong took his hand away, “I do not fall for lies, nor am I oh-so-pure of heart. I make my own choices.”

     “And that is marrying me?” He snickered, and the sound was bittersweet, “Well, I apologize– but that is a terrible one. Your reputation shall be ruined. When you find yourself miserable and far from pleased, my last name shall taint you forever. Forget about re-marrying. I’m all there is.”

     “Oh, and that goes both ways,” Hong Zhong’s grin grew wider, “I guess I shall settle for just one of you, as long as you settle for all of me. I hate sharing. What you see is what you get. “

     Liu Xia let out a laugh, way louder than he intended in case of prying ears, but he didn’t care. Not now, not with Hong Zhong at his side. The man carefully lifted the veil away from his partner’s face and eagerly pulled him in for a kiss. Hong Zhong kissed him further, and they found themselves in a fight to show each other as much affection as they were able. Through kisses and stumbles, the veil was abandoned on the floor, and the two crashed upon the bed. The mattress was comfortable, their bodies were warm.

     “Maybe that’s fitting,” Liu Xia whispered into Hong Zhong’s lips, once they had parted for a moment, “As it goes– Wood, rice, oil, salt, soy, vinegar, and tea. Every house has them except me. Bland were the years and my life naught.”

     Hong Zhong smiled wider, “Yet, I relish the plum's blossom in the bamboo courtyard.”

     The lovers found themselves kissing again, unaware of who had started it, and uncaring of who would end it. They needn’t a veil or a marriage, to tie them together.