Chapter 3—Bones in Snow (1.2)

by Bocchan13

Ye Zhou’s job was usually helping around the master’s courtyard, attending to his morning routine, and cleaning the corridor and steps. Now that the master was gone, Ye Zhou’s job was easier. Ye Zhou was still unsure of his memory and why it was so fragmented, but he vaguely felt that he himself was not Ye Zhou at all, but someone occupying his body.

Ye Zhou heard that small jingle again in his ear as another flash of memory passed:

mountains.

[“Mother, where are we going?” The winter cold had pervaded the room as his mother shoveled ashes over the fire. She opened a basket which held their most “expensive” clothing, something he only wore for occasions on New Year’s. The clothing had been altered slightly to fit his 5 year old frame. He was willowy, so the only thing his mother had to change was the length of the trousers.

His mother smiled slightly at him and pinched his cheeks.

“We are going on an adventure.”

He was still sleepy as his mother tied the robes around him. By the time they left, the sun still hadn’t woken up. Ye Zhou followed his mother, breathing out puffs of air and watching as it dissipated. He copied the way the pipe smokers had puffed their smoke, trying to make rings in the air. His mother was silent throughout.

Ye Zhou did not question where his father had gone, just that his mother was hunching slightly, either due to the cold or the abrupt parting of family. They walked for what seemed like an hour, several other women and men following the same path as them. They reached a fork in the road, and Ye Zhou saw an old man with a cart. Straw filled the bottom of the cart, and a very large oxen was strapped to the front, his smoke even bigger than Ye Zhou’s.]

“Ye Zhou? Ye Zhou!”

Ye Zhou was snapped out of his reverie and turned around to see a young man servant. His hands were red with cold as well as his nose. He was wearing a loosely fitted jacket, but was distinguishable due to his…bushy eyebrows. Was he related to Bushy face?

Ye Zhou tried to recall his name but came up blank.

“What do you want?”

The man hesitated and opened his pocket, taking out a small scroll.

“Before the master left, he gave me this to give to you. I didn’t tell the mistress and mom, so take it.”

Ye Zhou hesitantly took the scroll, putting his broom on the stairs. Unfurling it, he saw sharp character strokes as the message was unveiled.

“I’ve left to the Border and will not come back until the problems with the Barbarians are over. It might take a while. I love you—Yuan Chen”

That…Huh???

Ye Zhou’s eyes widened as he read the message over and over and over again.

L-l-l-love??? Love???? LOVE????

Ye Zhou smacked his head, causing his forehead to redden.

What the fuck??

Ye Zhou gasped in horror as he looked at the seal, signaling the reigning master of the Yuan Family, Yuan Chen!!

He.Was. The. Masters. Lover.

Fuuucckkkkk!!

No wonder the Bushy face was so mean to him! No wonder the servants were gleefully evil! No wonder the Princess looked at him with disdain!!!!

It all made fucking sense!

Ye Zhou punched the large pillar with his fist. The impact using his fists created a crack in the wood. Ye Zhou and Bushy face’s son looked as the pillar’s paint peeled off revealing the tan wood underneath.

Ye Zhou stared in amazement at his fists. He was Superman???

Wait, what was Superman?

Ye Zhou picked up the letter from the ground and dusted it off before putting it in his inner pocket.

“Thank you. I’ll leave first.”

Bushy face’s son just nodded while he still stared at the pillar in complete astonishment. Ye Zhou hastily ran into his small house and stashed wood chips in the fire pit. In a few minutes, there was a happy flame. Ye Zhou continuously read the letter over again, trying to decipher the words Yuan Chen wrote.

It was apparent that this was just a simple love letter.

Sighing, Ye Zhou felt a niggling sensation of dread. He took off his coat and robes, opening his chest to see what he feared were there.

Yep, there it was. Large strawberry kisses marked his chest, neck, and even his inner thighs. Ye Zhou touched each part and couldn’t help but shudder.

Ugh. Where was the feeling of love, huh? Where the feeling of hoping these marks didn’t fade? Ye Zhou knew that he wasn’t Ye Zhou. But if he wasn’t Ye Zhou…then who was he?

That night, Ye Zhou tossed and turned, his mind consumed by his thoughts. Eventually, by the dying firelight, Ye Zhou dreamed.

[As the winter snow blew through the narrow halls, Ye Zhou stood outside of their house. Aglow with candles and the smell of incense, he kept watching as the shadows melded together and the noises escalated. The once painful sounds of virginity breaking turned to exhalations of passion.

Moaning and the pants of pleasure, the servants and aristocrats stood outside as the party died down and listened to the bride and groom, witnesses to their wedding night. Ye Zhou stood in the same line as many others, awaiting the end to this torture.

As a servant, unless Ye Zhou was told to, he should not move. In the freezing winter snow, Ye Zhou watched with dead eyes as the shadows moved behind the paper doors.

 He kept watching it, in the snow before he could no longer differentiate an individual shadow. The night hid the silent tears slipping down his face, the wind whipping the thin wool clothing in the breeze. The blooming emotions of sadness filled his mouth with a bitter taste.

The glowing lanterns soon died down and the moaning voices of pleasure had dissipated, leaving the people outside to cheer. Although this was a normal custom, the consummation of marriage becoming a spectacle was a tradition long passed down throughout the centuries becoming a staple in the marriage.

Mindless and insecure.

The candlelight’s behind the paper doors finally blew out and it was finally time for the servants to leave.

Ye Zhou’s feet were numb, but he blindly followed the rest of the servants who busied themselves with cleaning up the banquet feast. The wedding was a glorious affair, with aristocrats, politicians, highly respected merchants, and even a prince had come to witness the union between Young Master Yuan Chen and the beloved Princess Xing Li Mei.

The match of the century, and although Princess Xing Li Mei was the 14^th princess, she was one of the most loved by the emperor. The Young Master of the Yuan Family had exceeded his father’s reputation, becoming a respected military general in his first war. It was inevitable for the emperor to marry his favorite child to his longtime friend’s son.

Ye Zhou picked up various dishes from the ornately carved tables, and carefully placed them in a bucket to be washed. The snow was building up, so the servants hastened their workload, leaving Ye Zhou to finish the dishes alone at the watering hole by himself.

Ye Zhou exhaled loudly, causing a puff of smoke to escape to the heavens. He watched as the heated mist dissipated before rubbing his hands and going to a small fire pit nearby and stoking the coals gently. The bitter cold lessened slightly as he tied his sleeves back and pleated his long black hair.

He dunked his pale hands into the freezing water and winced slightly at the cold contact to his skin. He silently did the dishes, sometimes taking a few breaks to wipe his eyes. The lonesome figure in the middle of the watering hole looked pitiful, but no one was there to see the young man’s crying. The sourness in his nose intensified as the tears blurred his vision even more.

At last, the final dish was cleaned. Ye Zhou leaped from his hunched position and moved his shivering hands to the fire. His fingers prickled by the sudden heat, and he couldn’t help but move closer to that satisfying warmth.

The fire reflected in his eyes as his red eyes continued to produce tears. He buried his face in his arms and couldn’t help but muffle the sobs wracking his body. At this point, it was deathly silent, nary a soul awake besides himself.

Ye Zhou slowly got up from his hunched position and started walking. Aimlessly walking, he started from a slow walk to a sprint. His footsteps upset the crisp snow on the ground as he continued to run.

He ran and ran and ran.

Past the hills where they played as children, past the cherry blossom tree of their first kiss, past everything that represented their love. Until he reached the warmth of the fire in the hearth of his dark desolate home. He slumped on the cold floors and placed his icy cold hands towards the fire, the tears falling more and more.

One fell, and then another followed, until only the blurred visions of flames were all that he could see.

The warmth that they shared together was not gone…but it had changed. No longer could they go back to the times of innocence, where happiness was in the little things of folly. Even if the young master did not change after this marriage…he did. He could no longer love him with a clear conscious. Love him like he used to.

No…tonight he was spending it with her…

He placed a fist in his mouth to block out the screams he desperately wanted to roar. He held his chest as the resentment and bitter love escaped like spreading fire.

He couldn’t even say ‘no’. He didn’t deserve to.

When during the spring, the young master cupped his face in his hands and looked him in the eyes and asked him if it was okay to marry, he couldn’t say no. He saw the disappointed gaze, the wobble of his lips.

But he couldn’t say no. Because what future could they have together? He knew his place. But he wanted his love. The contradiction in his heart burned the passion of their affair, until only reason remained. So all could ever say…was no. He could not blame the young master for marrying. He was the one who pushed him away, telling him that their love was fruitless.

And yet, here he lay crying like he was the victim. He was a hypocrite of the finest order. But the thoughts that wracked his brain consumed him entirely.

Was he kissing her like he kissed him? Was his blazing gaze alight with fire as he scattered kisses down her neck and body? Would he hum as they curled in each other embrace and wipe the sweat off of her brow after coupling?

Would he?

The tears turned to sobs, but he stifled them because he knew that he also didn’t deserve to cry. To shout out in anger and injustice, to scream to the heavens and say the words he always wanted to say. So he whispered it pathetically in the confines of his little hut.

“He’s mine,” his barely whispered words would never be heard.

The jealousy of a man was as intense as the burning inferno’s of hell. The itchy feeling of wanting to slap her hands away from what was HIS.

But instead, he kept on crying. Clutching the small blanket he had gifted him 20 years ago, as if it could replace him.

Tonight was his wedding night. Did he expect anything? Did he think he would visit a lowly servant peasant instead of his lawful wife?

But he did.

He really did.

Ye Zhou closed his eyes; the tears had long been exhausted, leaving behind a small servant curled in self-loathing. Sleep was the only escape for him at this point. Mind numbing blackness descended over him, as he tried to dream of memories of happier times.

…

Later in the night, the small hut was opened and a tall young man slowly entered. His silent footsteps gradually brought him closer to the Ye Zhou. His burning gaze stared at the sleeping man, clutching onto a blue blanket like a lifeline. He crawled into the bed and hugged the man, not even avoiding the cold hard floor. The heat from his body made Ye Zhou immediately wake up and looked to see the young master.

The young master looked like he hadn’t slept. His amber eyes gazed at his own red ones, probing his emotions. Trying to see what Ye Zhou was thinking. Ye Zhou could not look away from him. Just like always, his eyes held nothing but acceptance.

No resentment. No hatred. Just the acceptance of someone who knew his place. The ache in the young master’s heart intensified, and he had no choice but to bring the small body closer to his own.

The young master caressed his face and his approaching lips touched his in a fraction of a second. But what Ye Zhou could only smell was the scent of roses. The scent of HER.

But like a moth to a flame, Ye Zhou ignored it and kept kissing the young master, his mouth opening to the tentative tongue. The strong body of Yuan Chen enveloped the smaller body of Ye Zhou in a tight embrace. Although he smelled like his wife, Ye Zhou continued to climb onto Yuan Chen and rub his body, trying to rid him of her from his body. Trying to mark him with his scent.

Yuan Chen buried his face in the crook of his neck and unwrapped Ye Zhou’s clothes from his body, his pale legs exposed in the dying fire. Yuan Chen knew this body the best, as he carefully combed through Ye Zhou’s long hair, massaging the sensitive spots of his scalp.

Ye Zhou in turn kissed the man’s neck and saw some were already there. His eyes saddened immediately, but he hid them, kissing the red spots with his own mouth. Like he could erase every place that woman touched.

And Ye Zhou now knew that he could no longer escape from him. The only thing he could do was embrace him in his body, and keep him locked tight in his heart. Embracing a man who just hours earlier had made love to someone else. The tears were on the cusp of falling, but Ye Zhou held it back. He could never cry in front of this man again.

He couldn’t be selfish.

And as long as Yuan Chen kept him…He was his.

Until he threw him away.]

Ye Zhou gently opened his eyes, tears sliding down the sides, silent and lonesome. The images of their life in childhood, the sweet way they kissed under the cherry blossom trees, the secret glimmers between sliding doors.

“Bastard.”

Ye Zhou rubbed those tears away.

The ache in his heart was overwhelming and hurtful, rendering him immobile on the cold hard floor of this ugly house.

“Yuan Chen, you fucking bastard hurt him the most. Don’t act like the victim.”

Ye Zhou felt like he was put here for a reason. That was to make the body he was in happy. To heal this heartache. Ye Zhou closed his eyes, the jingle once again sounding in his ear.

[DING. Welcome back W. Initializing Phase 2]

The next autumn, under a bright full moon, Princess Xing Li Mei who was known far and wide as sickly, was able to conceive a child on her wedding night and gave birth to the young master’s child.

A baby boy.