[He understood when Jin Ling confessed his love and kissed his cheek that he is surrounded by remarkable people. He had thought of Xichen, remembering how the man had chosen him so many times and believed in him every single time someone threatened him.
Meng Yao loves them. Deeply. Unconditionally. If they asked him to rend himself to pieces, he would.
But, no, they are wishing him a happy birthday instead.
His fingers caress the jade peony and he tucks the emblem, a marriage of two sects, against his heart. The letter too is folded delicately and placed in a pocket.
He was glad he was alive. Xichen was glad.
How can he say "I love you" to a man he has broken so thoroughly? A return letter will have to do - and it is delivered the next day.]
Long yearning, To be in Chang'an. The grasshoppers weave their autumn song by the golden railing of the well; Frost coalesces on my bamboo mat, changing its colour with cold. My lonely lamp is not bright, I’d like to end these thoughts; I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain. The beautiful person's like a flower beyond the edge of the clouds. Above is the black night of heaven's height; Below is the green water billowing on. The sky is long, the road is far, bitter flies my spirit; The spirit I dream can't get through, the mountain pass is hard. Long yearning, Breaks my heart.
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Meng Yao loves them. Deeply. Unconditionally. If they asked him to rend himself to pieces, he would.
But, no, they are wishing him a happy birthday instead.
His fingers caress the jade peony and he tucks the emblem, a marriage of two sects, against his heart. The letter too is folded delicately and placed in a pocket.
He was glad he was alive. Xichen was glad.
How can he say "I love you" to a man he has broken so thoroughly? A return letter will have to do - and it is delivered the next day.]
Long yearning,
To be in Chang'an.
The grasshoppers weave their autumn song by the golden railing of the well;
Frost coalesces on my bamboo mat, changing its colour with cold.
My lonely lamp is not bright, I’d like to end these thoughts;
I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain.
The beautiful person's like a flower beyond the edge of the clouds.
Above is the black night of heaven's height;
Below is the green water billowing on.
The sky is long, the road is far, bitter flies my spirit;
The spirit I dream can't get through, the mountain pass is hard.
Long yearning,
Breaks my heart.
- Yao