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You walk with the bathrobe over your wet clothes, feeling half embarrassed when the other residents of Kongsang give you curious looks. That is it, when they can take their eyes off Buddha's Temptation, Fu Shouquan, who is just in the same state as you, sans bathrobes.
You understand them. You wish to bask in the glory of his aura, to watch as his skin presses and molds the silk, to follow each drop from his hair that trails his face and neck... It is tantalizing to imagine yourself pressing your fingers to the places the waters run, pressing your mouth and leaving your own marks. Would Fu Shouquan watch you with half as much adoration as you feel? Would he lay down and let you admire him and make a canvas out of him with your lips?
He is a Food Soul aptly named: the dish could tempt Buddha, and the soul tempts you.
It is better to admire Fu Shouquan than let yourself linger in what your dreams dwell. Here, you control your actions and know better.
You reach your rooms and does not know what to say. The idea of offering your bathrobe to him while you change seems like testing fate too much for your likeness. You appreciate it when he pulls you along the vanity mirror and turns on the hairdryer that Ron Goldie gifted you long ago.
"To be taken care like this, am not I abusing the kindness of a person?" You ask once he starts combing your hair and drying it at the same time.
His touch is firm and gentle; he treats your hair with more care than you do.
"Is it abusing a kindness, when the action comes from a burden-free heart?"
How can you deny this man this, then? His skin sets you ablaze and his gentleness make your heart swell with tenderness. You should close your eyes and enjoy it.
When you blink awake, Fu Shouquan is at your side kneeling, close — enough that you can feel the cold of his skin, his aroma surrounding you like a soft cloud — enough that should you really doze off, he is there to lend you support. "—something new to see you in this perspective. Seems like falling in the river together wasn't so bad after all." He smiles and you could kiss him at this moment and it would be right.
You are free to imagine, but not to react. Trying to clear your thoughts about the ways his lips would feel — cold, then warm, soft, tender — your attention goes to his clothes.
"You should get drier as well. Here, let me pay the favor—"
Fu Shouquan lays his hands over yours over the tool. The look in his eyes is serious and there is something that you can't name there. Something dangerous that makes your heart beat painfully. "Between us two, there are no favors owed, gorgeous. You are the one whi fell in the river, and yet you are here, worrying about me. Do not fret, gorgeous." His thumb rubs circles in your skin, and there are a thousand more nerves in your hand than you thought, because they flare up at the contact.
Fu Shouquan thinks better of your nature than you truly are. Of course, you care for him. Of course, when presented with the opportunity, you would return the care given. It is not just about the favor. You relish each and every chance to touch him and this is more that the not so-harmless flirting than he uses or an accidental contact: it is deliberate and tender and you would love to touch his hair with the same care as he has shown you, because you are opportunistic and hungry, because Fu Shouquan is not meant for you and you desire him anyway.
Buddha's Temptation took you out of the river and his next words send you back to the current. "Master, you are of royal birth."
Royal birth.
Master.
Your entire self shudders under the cold water. Buddha's Temptation cares about you because you are the Master of Kongsang, because you are dutiful and kind. He cares as a man seeing a precious gemstone, as seeing his beautiful flower exposed to the whims of a climate. He cares only because you host the souls of the offspring of Yizhi.
You are not a master of Kongsang; you nurse their souls while Hu-geng nurses their bodies back to health; you took out one of their names and their roles and draped yourself in the mantle of responsibility. Someone had to do it. Kongsang ought not to be without its leaders.
Royal birth? Noble blood? You are of a peasant stock, hard and thriving, a commoner's life, a common life of a human being. You are only you, not made more special by your family line nor more cursed; it is only a fact of life that until the actions of the Realm of Melanya, you were just one among billions. And once the true masters of this place are restored, you will continue to be one among billions.
You are in too deep to pull back. It isn't Fu Shouquan's fault for believing you to be who you say who you are; it isn't yours for acting as it, to save this place. But it hurts and it taints his speech, his sweet nothings turned into a bitter drink. "If I don't see you safe and sound, my heart will never have any rest."
Of course. Safe and sound. Your royal birth. Of course he will be worried, Kongsang Shaozhu.
"I understand." You wish that you didn't. Oh, how happy you were minutes ago! "I'm glad to have brought you peace." You remove your hands and move away, rising from your knee and giving him your back. "I must ask you to leave so I can change my clothes. Thank you for your time today."
His clothes make a heavy whoooosh when he rises, still wet, still beautiful. Nothing changed for him. "It is always a pleasure to stay with you, gorgeous. I sent a message on our way here, Hu-geng ought to deliver some fresh clothes soon."
Good, you have to speak with him–
He calls you by the name that isn't yours. "Don't forget about our lantern date tonight."
How loud is a breaking heart? Yours is silent enough that it has no echoes, yet reverberates in you.
"I won't."
You don't look back. You cannot let him see your expression, mirroring the feelings in your heart. Feel and conceal; it is alright to look but not to act.
In the silence of his wake, only his aroma lingers; a haunting. You repeat your name. Again, again, until it is branded in your bones and your heart, until you remember the shape of it on your life and soul. For a moment back there, you had forgotten it. Remember yourself and your place in the world: you shall be fine as long as you stay as you are and grasp not beyond your position, master of Kongsang.
Temporary Master of Kongsang.
Fill-in master of Kongsang.
Fake Shaozhu.
You ought not get caught up by your emotions, not like this. You ought to be grateful, but your gratitude is a poisonous thing, better spit out than drunk.
Huh. You thought that Fu Shouquan had done a good job drying your hair. Yet, what are these droplets doing here, running on your cheeks?