He's well aware of what the curse is, of course, what it means; experience had taught him that at a young age. He had seen his mother cradling lotus petals in her hands, her sister with golden peonies decorating parchment as she had read. He had seen the people of Yunmeng, rare and far between, coming to their Sect to try and find the cause of their sudden illness, the kind of which there is little cure other than brutal, painful honesty.
There had never been a moment in his life where he had imagined that he would be struck down with the same curse, if only because had hadn't thought that he would be able to love someone so deeply. His path had always been the kind of arranged marriage, of finding a suitable wife and settling to create the perfect set of heirs to come after him, a son to raise as leader, a daughter to cultivate her beauty and warmth. Perhaps a son like himself, or like Wei Wuxian, and a daughter with his sister's heart to keep her memory truly alive.
All of that had been ripped from him when he coughed up soft white petals, curling in his fingertips, his mind refusing to accept what it means.
His hand is pressed against a wound to his hip now, a scowl on his face, twisting his features completely into something bitter. He doesn't want this to be his future, doesn't want this to be the path he has to walk, not when his eyes drag over Sizhui and he doesn't know how to handle himself, how to quash the feeling inside of him. Age matters much less between two cultivators, that doesn't bother him, and his brother had married a Lan, so that isn't problematic now, but...
But it ruins all his plans. It ruins everything, and Jiang Cheng is prepared to die to carry that burden. There's no question in his mind that his feelings will never be returned, and the thorns in his throat begin to tear him apart before he speaks. ]
My injuries are fine, I'll deal with them later. [ Robes snapping around him as he shoves his sleeves out the way, he leans down to look over Sizhui, gaze critical, examining, trying to be clinical rather than exploratory. ] Let me see yours.
no subject
He's well aware of what the curse is, of course, what it means; experience had taught him that at a young age. He had seen his mother cradling lotus petals in her hands, her sister with golden peonies decorating parchment as she had read. He had seen the people of Yunmeng, rare and far between, coming to their Sect to try and find the cause of their sudden illness, the kind of which there is little cure other than brutal, painful honesty.
There had never been a moment in his life where he had imagined that he would be struck down with the same curse, if only because had hadn't thought that he would be able to love someone so deeply. His path had always been the kind of arranged marriage, of finding a suitable wife and settling to create the perfect set of heirs to come after him, a son to raise as leader, a daughter to cultivate her beauty and warmth. Perhaps a son like himself, or like Wei Wuxian, and a daughter with his sister's heart to keep her memory truly alive.
All of that had been ripped from him when he coughed up soft white petals, curling in his fingertips, his mind refusing to accept what it means.
His hand is pressed against a wound to his hip now, a scowl on his face, twisting his features completely into something bitter. He doesn't want this to be his future, doesn't want this to be the path he has to walk, not when his eyes drag over Sizhui and he doesn't know how to handle himself, how to quash the feeling inside of him. Age matters much less between two cultivators, that doesn't bother him, and his brother had married a Lan, so that isn't problematic now, but...
But it ruins all his plans. It ruins everything, and Jiang Cheng is prepared to die to carry that burden. There's no question in his mind that his feelings will never be returned, and the thorns in his throat begin to tear him apart before he speaks. ]
My injuries are fine, I'll deal with them later. [ Robes snapping around him as he shoves his sleeves out the way, he leans down to look over Sizhui, gaze critical, examining, trying to be clinical rather than exploratory. ] Let me see yours.