Name: A Tea Shop and a Stage
Story: Lin Moniao Series (AO3 link)
Colors: Iridium #9 (save your pennies), Newsprint #11 (In a dream you saw a way to survive and were full of joy.), Psychedelic Purple #21 (get back to where you once belonged)
Supplies and Styles: gesso, novelty beads (gender), nubs; life drawing
Word Count: 2,750
Rating: teen
Warnings: This one is just a bit of a bummer in general. Gender feels, repression, almost-cheating, mild sexual harassment, old regrets, reference to past parental abuse.
Summary: Shen Shanwei runs into an old crush and rethinks some hard choices made in the past.

* 

"Yu Hui?"

Shen Shanwei grinned down at the man sitting by the table at the tea shop as recognition dawned on his handsome features. Yes, still handsome, though the passing years showed in new lines on his brow and, one might say, a few grey streaks at his temples.

"Yang A-Yang?" Yu Hui said, and stood up, took Shen Shanwei's arms, and laughed in delight.

"It sounds strange when you say it like that." Shen Shanwei couldn't help but laugh as well as he grasped Yu Hui's elbows. "I know--Aunt always called me A-Yang."

"You're still A-Yang to me," said Yu Hui, which Shen Shanwei thought rather impertinent of him. "You left the troupe so suddenly and disappeared, and I never heard from you again. Well, you can tell me the whole story now! Sit down! Look at you! Who would think you would grow so tall in only a few years! You could take one of my old roles now."

"It has been more than a few." Shen Shanwei did not sit yet. He had only just booked his room at the inn and come down the street looking for a bite to eat; he had a long way to ride tomorrow, and he still wasn't sure no imperial spy had tracked him from the capital. He really shouldn't linger. "And no one else could possibly play the hero when Yu Hui is around."

Yu Hui laughed and tossed his hair. "Ah, kind of you to say, but I am not as young as I was. See how my belt strains now?" Yu Hui took hold of Shen Shanwei's wrists to push his hands on his own waist. "Let the young men with slim waists take the lead."

"Vain as ever!" Shen Shanwei scoffed, and squeezed. "Here I am, grown stubbly and ugly, and you're fishing for compliments. Well, you'll have them. You know this little bit of added girth only makes you look more heroic. Did your last troupe have you pull the carts instead of the horses? You look strong as an ox, fit to slay any mythical beast."

Yu Hui laughed again, glowing with pleasure, and Shen Shanwei's lips drew in an ironic little smile. He had been right. But he could hardly begrudge an old friend a few compliments after such a long time. Besides, he had often wondered how the troupe had got on, having suddenly lost their heroine in the middle of a country tour.

"Not ugly, I wouldn't go so far. Sit with me, come, let's catch up properly."

It did not take long for Shen Shanwei to relent, lurking imperial spies or no, and Yu Hui ordered a fresh pot of tea.

Shen Shanwei told Yu Hui about joining a martial sect, not naming the Illustrious Qilin Villa only because he was supposed to be traveling incognito. Yu Hui talked about his latest role, and of journeying all the way up to the top of the world (no glimpse of the goddess of the mountain, alas), and of which of their old friends had retired or married, and which still lived the life--most of them, it turned out.

Shen Shanwei wanted very much to talk about Duyi, of her pregnancy and of their engagement, but a man like Yu Hui would not be interested in that sort of thing, and it was too close to his heart to be risked with an indifferent audience. So, he said instead, "I am happy to see you don't hold a grudge. I left rather suddenly and with no explanation, after all."

Yu Hui shook his head. "We found out soon enough, when your old man came around asking questions. Everybody lied to Heaven and Hell they'd never seen you and knew nothing, and he left."

Shen Shanwei hung his head, hoping some strands of loose hair might help hide his face. "Many apologies."

"None needed. You're not the first runaway to join the entertainers."

Shen Shanwei could say nothing to that, so after a paused, Yu Hui continued, "We didn't lack a female lead for long after you left. We just shuffled some roles around, and it got snapped up pretty quickly. You know how it is, actors always make do. So, you've joined a sect, have you? And after all that vitriol you spewed about the army?"

"It's not the same," Shen Shanwei said automatically. "Well, not exactly the same. Fewer people, smaller battles, and we don't languish in the barracks between battles orchestrated by political conflicts that fix nothing and change nothing." He could hear his voice rise, and moderated it. "Better a righteous cultivator than a cannon fodder. I had the base, and the theatre life wasn't safe anymore, so what else would I do? Besides, it made me strong." He clenched his arm and pouted, a parody of a strongman pose.

Yu Hui laughed again, and Shen Shanwei felt a splash of affection, not even marred by the knowledge of how superficial this camaraderie was. Yu Hui got along with everyone easily, and made admirers even more easily. It wasn't anything special about Shen Shanwei that made him act like this. Still, one basked in Yu Hui's glow for a moment, and felt important. In that, he was rather like Lin Moniao.

"How time makes shapeshifters of us all," Yu Hui said. "Look at you, going from a blushing beauty to a fearsome warrior."

"The beauty of youth," Shen Shanwei corrected. "I wasn't anything remarkable. Just a skinny boy in a dress."

"You were pretty then," Yu Hui persisted, against the evidence of his own memory, Shen Shanwei imagined. "And you're handsome now. The sword rather than the flower."

"Enough!" Shen Shanwei held up both his hands to stop the flattery.

"I wonder if you still know all the steps of the maidens' dances? I would like to see that."

"Ridiculous," Shen Shanwei tried to snap, but he was smiling. Memory did not allow him to acknowledge the drafty carriages or the constant chores that went with being part of as travelling troupe, and only showed him the moments on stage when he had had the attention of the audience, the clap on the back from the manager when he had done well, even the smell of sawdust on the floor, and all those people he had only begun to make friends with before he'd had to run again.

He'd had rather been taken in with Yu Hui then, even knowing, even at that young age, what sort of man he was. It had, of course, come to nothing. Shen Shanwei today could barely admit to experiencing carnal desire at all; at seventeen, in a group full of gossipy adults, he would rather have been pierced by a thousand arrows than make eyes at the male lead. Off-stage, anyway.

"You do, don't you?" Yu Hui leaned his elbows on the table and leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. "You still move like a dancer."

Shen Shanwei sucked in his lower lip. He didn't really have any reason to hide it from Yu Hui; Yu Hui already knew. "Maybe," he ventured. "But it's been too long. I'm not used to performing anymore. And you don't want to see a grown man floating about like a butterfly, do you?"

"But I do," exclaimed Yu Hui, and held up his hand for a waiter. "Come with me, A-Yang."

"Where are we going?" Shen Shanwei asked as Yu Hui stood up and reached into his inner pocket for a string of coins.

"Somewhere private. I'd like to share a dance with my former leading lady."

"Absolutely ridiculous," Shen Shanwei huffed, but followed as Yu Hui paid and pulled him along into the busy street.

When he saw where they were headed, however, he began to pull at the arm Yu Hui had commandeered, digging his heels into the dirt of the street. "You said private!" he complained. "That is not private!"

The town's theatre, tucked away between two restaurants, loomed ahead, with banners outside advertising a play of romance and bad luck.

"I did," Yu Hui assured him. "The play isn't due to start rehearsing until next week. The manager knows me, they'll let us use the stage. It's as private as can be."

Now that Shen Shanwei looked, he could see that the shutters were close and the lanterns unlit. "I don't much like the idea of the manager seeing us, either."

Yu Hui burst out laughing. "So shy! They have seen worse than a few missteps."

And so, Shen Shanwei allowed himself to be persuaded into the empty theatre. The side-door opened to them, not at the hands of the manager, but an elderly lady, who returned to a book of ledgers in the little side-room at the back of the theatre after ushering them through the darkened hallways into the dome of the stage, with the audience seating area dim and empty, and a few props leaning on the wall, waiting to be put away or put up.

Though the air smelled dank in the prolonged absence of people, the stage had been swept not long ago, and everything was neat and orderly. Memory hit Shen Shanwei like a crashing wave as he looked up and around from the side of the stage. He could feel the anticipation in the pit of his belly, just as if the audience had been full and noisy, and the company fussing behind him getting everyone into position, props in order, and the last bits of makeup applied.

Yu Hui must have seen him react, because he said nothing, and let him have this moment. Then Yu Hui stepped on to the stage, in the light slanting from the high windows, gait leonine and graceful. He drew Shen Shanwei's gaze, and the memory bit deeper, drawing on the subdued excitement and dread.

Yu Hui turned and smiled, and held his hand out for Shen Shanwei to join him. Instinctively, he moved forward, called towards him, raising his foot to step towards him--

--and then he set it down, and retreated a step into the shadows.

He had not been thinking. Or rather, he had not been observing himself, until this moment, and now that he did, what he saw was shameful and alarming. He took another step back, wishing to hide his face or run away.

Yu Hui's smile faded, and his hand dropped, just an inch. "A-Yang? What's the matter?"

Shen Shanwei had, he now realized, somehow managed not to notice where this meeting had been leading to. He had not recognized the feeling of excitement at Yu Hui's attention for what it was.

He had been flirting, and... he should not be flirting. By any of his own standards, whether for his honor or for his face. He was loyal to Duyi in a way most husbands weren't expected to be. That was what he had chosen, openly, and what he had promised her.

What an honorless, rutting, lustful lout he was.

Lin Moniao wouldn't understand, because Lin Moniao didn't see anything wrong with sleeping whoever you wanted to sleep with. But Shen Shanwei did, and so what was this other than unjustifiable weakness of character?

And beyond that... It had felt so good, so right, so magical, to be pulled back into his youth for a moment, and take the hand of a handsome man, and be something like a girl again.

That was the most dangerous thing of all.

Shen Shanwei had grown up... something like a girl. He had known he was a boy, but that had been as meaningless as saying he had a birthmark on his left ankle or that he was born in the evening. The boys in the village were rowdy and crude, and he had fully expected to become just like his mother or his aunts, and farm and spin silk, and dance with the girls at the festivals. He had been dragged into manhood against his will.

Running away and joining the theatre had been a last-ditch attempt to continue that interrupted trajectory. To become someone merry and laughing and exuberant, wreathed in silks and fripperies, fearless of the world's judgment.

Hah.

His father's words rang in his ears:

I will kill you first, and then your bitch mother.

Yang Muyang had disappeared that night his father had tracked him down for the last time, and Shen Shanwei had picked his new name from the city he'd headed to next, working the first leg of the journey guiding oxen on the river, the next weaving baskets with the women on their way to the market. No more dancing. No more fripperies. No more hint of himself left behind for his father to trace.

And he was here now, and he had no desire to go back to being small and scared, a walking invitation for violence, as girlhood had turned out to be. Where he was, was good. Where he was now, he chose to be.

His mother was safe. And the child she'd called Xiaohua and tugged into bed, all that time ago, was safe too, somewhere deep under all the layers and layers of Shen Shanwei.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't be doing this."

Yu Hui dropped his outstretched hand and took a stride towards him. "What's the matter? Too much memory? We can go somewhere else." He reached out to gently grasp Shen Shanwei's wrist.

Shen Shanwei laughed nervously and pulled his arm back. "Please. I wasn't thinking. You can find someone else tonight. I didn't mean to tease--truly. It was a mistake."

Yu Hui let go of his wrist. "Is there someone else?"

"Yes," Shen Shanwei answered truthfully. Duyi would not like knowing he was running around; she would get cutting and cold, and call him names, but really, it would be because she was afraid he'd forget her, chasing pleasure. And was she wrong, judging by his recent actions? "But mostly it's just... me."

Yu Hui was silent. Shen Shanwei took a step back. He did not expect Yu Hui to step forward, grasp his arms, and push him up against the wall, looming close in kissing distance.

As strong as he was, Yu Hui was no cultivator. But Shen Shanwei did not push him back, instead taking in a sharp breath, and getting a full noseful of Yu Hui's scent. He grabbed weakly at Yu Hui's waist.

"You want me," Yu Hui whispered, his breath hot on Shen Shanwei's neck.

"Yes," Shen Shanwei croaked, heat running up from his chest.

"You could have me right here, or I could have you, and they would never have to know."

"I would know," said Shen Shanwei, "and I'd tell her." Then he shoved him a little, sharp, not too hard; letting him have the choice to move of his own volition. "Yu Hui. I said no."

"So you did." Yu Hui retreated, letting him go, and Shen Shanwei breathed out in relief, the qi that had been gathering in his palms dissipating.

Yu Hui stalked away, and dropped down to sit on the edge of the stage. Then he heaved a sigh, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I said I'm sorry," Shen Shanwei snapped. "I really wasn't thinking."

"And now you are," said Yu Hui lightly. "Isn't it terrible? We think and think and it's the end of all joy."

He rubbed his hand over his chin, and then he said, "You're right, I can find someone else. I'll spend my pennies on a few catties of baijiu, flirt with someone--" he huffed, and smiled, "--probably someone prettier than you, not gonna lie. I'll see where the night goes. I need it now. You're a real joykiller now, Yang Muyang, did you know? I would have preferred my A-Yang."

"At least you're taking it well," said Shen Shanwei bitterly. "Goodbye, Yu Hui. And good luck."

And he turned and walked off the stage, into the hallway, down into the alleyway, and into the crowd.

He felt something dark and heavy in his belly, and pressed his hand against it; some roiling emotion, or memory, trying to reach its dark tendrils into him.

Xiaohua.

Had he really kept her safe?

Or had he killed her?

"Leave me alone," he murmured to his ghosts, and pushed through the bodies of strangers, mud sticking to his feet, a light rain beginning to sting where it touched his cheeks.