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When Zheping first met Zhang Jiale, a death knell announced the end of Zheping’s heart. And the buds along his throat swelled with pale pink flowers that darkened in color until it became like blood. It was fitting for their avatars, and it was the embodiment of their relationship. It was an omen and a prediction wrapped into one. Zheping didn’t heed to this, he met his other half.
The first time Jiale met Sun Zheping, he knew they would be a tragic accident. The traces of flowers on their necks told him so. The same portentous signs told him they were going to be destroyed thanks to him. It was stupid to continue meeting him. However, Jiale is a romantic at heart, although he cannot fully comprehend such a word.
Although, it would be the best tragedy of love that ever began, wouldn’t it?
Zheping always thought that Jiale was inhumanly beautiful. The way the other man’s hair would have a reddish tinge from his hair dye. His wrists and fingers were deceptively thin showing a hint of bone, yet strong enough to withstand the trials of Glory. Jiale was almost androgynous, but firmly masculine in his beauty.
Jiale knew that Zheping wasn’t beautiful. He’s ordinary, but that also held an attractiveness to it. He was handsome in a regular kind of way—certainly not a model, but something someone would marry. Jiale admired the way Zheping could dive into any conversation, and the more time a person spent with him, the more they liked him. Zheping’s beauty wasn’t in his appearance, but in his personality. Jiale hoped that Zheping’s beauty would be preserved when their relationship ended.
Zheping noticed that Jiale liked to stare. Not just at him, but at people in general. As if he wanted to know something. Sometimes, Jiale would try to figure out what people would do in certain situations. For example, in their combination play—who would be initially targeted; what their weaknesses were; what other people’s weaknesses were. He was their team strategist, though he wasn’t a professional. Every time he made a mistake, his eyes shined as if happy to be wrong. Other times, Jiale would watch a family in the park as if about to receive a revelation. Each time Zheping was there to pull him out of his trance. Ready with a hand on Jiale’s wrist or an arm around his shoulder to comfort him wordlessly.
Jiale felt Zheping’s hands on him. It was an unconscious decision on Zheping’s part, and never uncomfortable or overbearing. He was just a touchy-feely guy. A slap on the back; a hug from behind; a hand on his shoulder; or knees knocked against each other. Zheping was always there. Close by, as if a mark on their necks meant more than it did. Zheping would often complain that Jiale was cold, but then he got so close that it didn’t seem to matter if they were ruled by a fated mark or not. Jiale liked it. It was good—Zheping was warm.
Zheping wasn’t stupid. He was hasty and reckless, but never stupid. His performance in Glory was a testament to his personality. However, when Jiale’s mom tried to warn him he purblindly ignored it. She cornered him in the kitchen when Jiale went to the bathroom. All tired smiles and weighted shoulders.
“You mustn’t love my son,” she began. “I don’t need you dragging him into sin”. Zheping stared at her with a frown on his face. It wasn’t the conversation he was expecting from her.
“We’re soul mates,” and it was hard to miss that part. “For whichever way that it leads us. We could be just friends, or more than friends, but we’ll have each other for life.”
She was silent for a moment. “A boy like that can have many soul mates. Don’t become a number,” she warned with glistening eyes. “Please … don’t.”
“Thank you, but it’ll be fine, so relax. Enjoy Lele being home.”
Jiale’s mom shook her head and walked away. Zheping later caught her staring at them with worried eyes. He left Jiale’s family home with a bitter taste in his mouth.
Jiale liked Zheping’s family. They were full of life and happiness. He charmed them with his boyishness and eagerness to be accepted. And, for some reason they didn’t see the monster lurking under his skin as his family did. Jiale stayed away after meeting them to protect them from himself.
“Ah.”
Jiale hummed questioningly from where he rested his head on Zheping’s shoulder. He was tired from eating so much and the weather was great outside, perfect for dozing off on Zheping’s shoulders.
“I saw a man with a gray mark—it’s just a little upsetting to look at for some reason.”
When Jiale opened his eyes into slits and saw the man in question, his heart almost stopped. The gray mark was a dead branch on his neck and the man’s slumped shoulders told Jiale that the heartbreak was still raw. He knew right then why Zheping was interested in him, although Zheping didn’t. This was Zheping’s actual kindred soul.
“Big Sun, I think it’s time to go back.”
Zheping stared a little longer, his eyes naturally drawn to his real soul mate’s neck before he said, “I guess” in a distracted way.
Zheping coughed flowers and didn’t understand why. He was half in love with Jiale, and was sure the other man liked him back. Yet, he coughed. It was as if his body had the perspicacity to recognize what was happening better than his mind. The unconscious alerted the conscious through little cherubic petals bleeding his throat and lungs dry. However, as much as the unconscious can ring an alarm, if the conscious cannot understand what the warning was about, it would continue to think that is a false alarm. So, Zheping ignored this warning, even if he shouldn’t have.
Soon, Jiale became intimately aware of the disgusting sweetness of decomposing flowers. It wasn’t obvious at first, but over time it clung to Zheping like a pungent perfume dedicated to the diseased. Zheping treated it like it was normal to be coughing flowers, not like something that could kill him by playing Russian roulette with his lungs. Jiale didn’t know what to do other than to let it play out. Zheping wouldn’t let him do anything else.
Zheping tried harder. He needed to catch up to Jiale. Anything to be next to his soul mate—to stand on that podium with their matching marks revealing to the world who they are and what they are. Anything to prove that his hanahaki was wrong. He forced himself to ignore the stench and pain; something needed to be paid in order to become better. And, rarely was desperation the paid price, that’s the motivation—it cannot be destroyed so easily.
Jiale was guiltily happy over Zheping’s hospitalization. There was an invisible pressure lifted from his shoulders. Of course, when his pressure to be the perfect soul mate was relieved, the black dragging tar of remorse brought him further down than any pressure could (he can never replace what he stole). So, Jiale did the hardest thing he could imagine; he told the truth.
Before everything, before Zheping and Jiale were born, there was a woman. She was normal, came from a normal family, had a normal upbringing. Then she met a white devil. He was charming and boyish. Grinned with too many teeth, and had a cupidity worthy of any sin. She blinked, and suddenly had a baby in her arms, who she knew was her child. She lost a year and a day of her life. Her family was ashamed of her, but eventually welcomed her back. The baby was aberrant in the most normal ways.
Until he was 16.
A new transfer student appeared in his class, pretty in a studious way. She had a soul mark on her lower back. He had seen it a couple of times during gym class. She, in turn, noticed he had the exact same mark on his lower back. When she touched his hand, their soul marks wrapped around their backs, covering almost the entirety in circular patterns.
She fell in love.
He panicked.
He wasn’t born with a soul mark. His skin was soft and clear. Not even the tiniest of bruises; he was an outsider in a fated world. Soon, he wasn’t the only outsider in the world either. Her soul mark faded to nothing after half a year.
She was scared. Screamed at him; wailing in distress. She couldn’t take it, the only constant in her life was gone. The physical traces of her soul disappeared, and his faded as well, revealing perfect skin once more. The imprint never returned and she left as well, taking the whole school with her. He escaped into the world of games feeling damningly full like he ate a banquet.
He never meant to do it again.
It felt like a cosmic joke. All people had kindred spirits, someone with a matching mark; an unbreakable connection to each other. This was the way of life. However, Jiale was only half human. So, what did that mean for Zheping? Was he worth a life of half love?
“You aren’t my soul mate?”
Jiale’s breath hitched. He slowly shook his head and said, “No. I never was”.
Zheping leaned back in his hospital bed. Nothing hurt, but that was because of the opioids running through his body. “Have you ever loved me?”
“What?”
“Have you ever loved me?” Zheping repeated. His words were interrupted by a cough that brought up flowers. Jiale was silent for a long time.
“I don’t … I don’t know what love is. I don’t know if I’ll ever know what love is. I just know I want to be closer to you … but, if I keep doing that, you’ll suffer.”
Zheping squeezed his hands together before looking straight into his beloved’s eyes. His heart became still. He was reckless and ambitious, but never stupid. Not when it stared him in the face.
“I won’t love anyone else … but I can’t love you anymore. Yesterday, you didn’t show up and I coughed so many flowers that I had to get a powerful cough suppressant. I don’t know how much I’ll have to cough today.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Zheping coughed and Jiale ignored the ruby petals that slipped through Zheping’s fingers. “I can’t force you to love me, but if you like me, then please leave.”
Jiale nodded and left the room, leaving broken hearts and messy feelings behind.
He didn’t return.
There was a yearning in his heart that called out for Zheping, but he knew that it was due to his half demon nature. The flowers didn’t fade at all. However, Anti-Christs and Cambions can’t love, not in the way that most humans do. He can’t give Zheping what he deserves. And for that, Jiale repented.
Years fade and blur. The life between Hundred Blossoms (Zheping and Jiale) and not Hundred Blossoms (Zheping, Jiale) continues to progress until the life of not Hundred Blossoms is longer than Hundred Blossoms. Zheping changes; gets surgery to fix his hanahaki and matures. Jiale also changes; he learns to become more human and burns himself out for it. It’s a grueling burn, but necessary. And if he traces the flowers wrapped lovingly around his neck at low times, then it’s only between himself and whatever being pairs humans together.
Their story is not a romance; it’s a learning experience.