During his time as a commandant of the Longwu Guard, Li Jinglong had accompanied the imperial family to each of the imperial mausoleums in turn to offer sacrifice to Great Tang’s imperial ancestors. When they came to the Ding Mausoleum, he had always stayed for a while by himself.
“Cheng Xiao is a distant cousin of Lian Hao, from the Imperial Court of Judicial Review,” Li Jinglong said. “You met him before.”
“Mm,” Hongjun murmured as he perused the books lining the shelves by the fireflies’ flickering glow: transcriptions of cases, large and small, that had taken place in Luoyang during the Shenlong era, when Wu Zetian was empress.
Lost in his memories, Li Jinglong said, “The imperial guard has a reserve force made up of twelve- to thirteen-year-old boys who wish to join the army. That was the path that I took as well.”
Hongjun hummed.
“Every year, the commandants of the imperial guard go and take a look at the boys to recruit them into their divisions. That’s how I met Cheng Xiao. He’s smart as a whip, and fearless to boot…”
“Mm.”
“But he’s not my type.”
“So what’s your type, then?”
“I like the pretty, dumb ones.”
Hongjun stared.
“If that’s too big an ask,” Li Jinglong continued, “I wouldn’t mind settling for someone with average looks. But the ones that are too smart—especially the ones who overestimate their own intelligence—they’re too high-maintenance for me.”
“Well, he’s also very pretty,” Hongjun said coolly.
“You think he’s pretty? Have you gone blind?”
Hongjun grabbed a scroll to smack Li Jinglong on the head. Li Jinglong merely laughed and scooted over, motioning for Hongjun to sit beside him. Hongjun ignored the gesture. He turned, ready to storm out of the chamber, when Li Jinglong called out, “Don’t wander around; stay in here.” After a moment, he spoke again. “I really don’t like the smart ones, though. Maybe because I’m very smart myself.”
Sourness lapped at Hongjun’s heart. “Did a lot of boys like you back when you were in the Longwu Guard?”
“You finally asked,” Li Jinglong said with a smile.
“So do you like pretty—um, pretty boys or not?” Hongjun ducked his head and went back to rummaging through scrolls. Li Jinglong lifted a hand, and a firefly floated over, hovering beside Hongjun’s cheek and illuminating the painting on the scroll he was holding.
“Will you be mad if I tell you the truth?”
“I won’t.”
“Then, yes,” Li Jinglong answered honestly. “I was around thirteen when I realized I didn’t like girls and only liked boys. I was probably born this way.”
Hongjun thought about Qin Wu and Cheng Xiao, then recalled Li Jinglong’s behavior in Pingkang Ward. Realization dawned. He was a bit surprised at how candidly Li Jinglong admitted it—it was as if he had only now glimpsed a different side of the Li Jinglong he’d known all this time.
“But I never acted on it; nothing ever happened while I was in the Longwu Guard.”
“I know, you’ve said.” Hongjun laughed.
“You asked me before when I started liking you.” After a moment of thought, Li Jinglong continued, “I think I fell for you right after we met, even though I’d only seen you a few times.”
Hongjun turned to examine Li Jinglong in the dimness, a complicated knot of emotion rising in his chest.
“Come here, Hongjun,” Li Jinglong said softly. “I missed you.”
Hongjun stepped forward and straddled Li Jinglong’s lap, gazing down at him. Li Jinglong studied his face. “When I was in the Longwu Guard, a lot of the guys gossiped about this behind my back. It ruined my reputation.”
Hongjun stroked Li Jinglong’s cheek, then threw his arms around his neck. Li Jinglong buried his face in his shoulder.
“Sometimes I find it odd as well,” Li Jinglong continued. “What kind of person do I like, exactly? Someone like Qin Wu? Like Cheng Xiao? There are parts of both of them that feel like the person I’m looking for, but at the same time, neither is quite right. I don’t really know.” Hongjun’s eyes went wide as Li Jinglong continued: “But then, when we met and fought in the Department of Exorcism—the light was dim, so I couldn’t see you at first—but later, when I looked at you more carefully… It’s strange, but I feel like it’s you. You’re the one I’m looking for.”
Li Jinglong gazed up at Hongjun, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Your brows, your eyes—the way you look, the way you speak, and the way you’re so clueless… It makes me feel like it’s fate that I would fall madly in love with you the moment I saw you. The boys I knew in the past, they all bore a resemblance to you…but only a slight one. And if such slight resemblance was enough to move my heart, what more needs to be said of my…”
As Hongjun stared down at Li Jinglong with dazed eyes, he couldn’t help but recall those childhood memories.
Li Jinglong wrapped his arms tighter around Hongjun. Fireflies fluttered around them. By their soft glow, Li Jinglong looked as if he was gazing piously up at his own personal god.
Hongjun cupped Li Jinglong’s face in his hands. Slowly, he linked the events of the past together. Qing Xiong, or perhaps Di Renjie… Whoever it was, someone had erased Li Jinglong’s memory.
But deep in his heart, he still remembered Hongjun.
He remembered he needed to get rid of the monster within his body, so he sought out Daoist priests and tried to learn spiritual techniques; he remembered their time together, so he saw the shadow of Hongjun in the other young men he encountered.
There was no need for him to say any of this; doing so was akin to shedding his armor, leaving him bare and defenseless before Hongjun.