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[Slow pan of a large, brightly-lit room wall-to-wall full with musical instruments, somehow including every single one mentioned in the comments of Hotaru Tomoe's post plus many, many more.

Shen Yuan laughs awkwardly from behind the camera and says,]

So, good news for everyone who was sorry they couldn't play anything for Hotaru-mei the other day. I found this room in the Archives; and as far as I can tell it's just...instruments. No enchantments, no super-rare antiques, just instruments.

And I found this -- [Shen Yuan carries his omni over to a piano, on top of which is lying a plain but elegant guqin] so let's see if this body remembers how to play it, shall we?

[Brief shuffle while SY sits cross-legged on the floor, the guqin balanced on his knees and his omni propped up to record his hands on the strings. Shen Yuan shakes his fingers out and starts to play the opening notes of this song. After a few minutes he laughs -- quietly, so not to overwhelm the music -- and says]

I can already tell I won't be able to keep this up for long...I don't have any of the right calluses.

[He keeps playing, seemingly sinking into nostalgia as he says]

I remember when I was a kid in Beijing, my teacher used to make me set timers every time I practiced, so I wouldn't go on too long and cut my fingers open on the strings. [quiet laugh] He said that most kids he had to practically cuff them to the board to make them practice, but not me. I was into it.

And then of course I was reborn, and all of a sudden I was the teacher, and sure enough, I had to remind my students to take breaks!

The guy I took over for was a real ah -- a real big jerk, he used to make his disciples soak their fingers in ice water before practice, but I never saw the point in that. Musical combat wasn't part of our cultivational tradition; nobody from Qing Jing Peak was going to reach for a guqin when they needed to fight off a demon or suppress an angry ghost, so why take it so seriously? To be honest, I...I sort of thought of guqin as the fun subject, one we could relax and take our time with. It wasn't a matter of life and death like swordplay or spellwork, and it wasn't going to break someone's reputation like bad calligraphy might, so why not have fun with it? I wanted my disciples to enjoy it like I did...

[Shen Yuan continues playing for another five minutes or so before wincing and shaking his fingers out, saying with another quiet laugh]

There, wasn't that pretty?

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[the notification appears some weeks later and, when opened, reveals video of a man seated before an exquisite brown guqin. he adjusts the angle of the omni so the focus is on the guqin strings and his fingers. then he plays. the whole thing.

once the final note fades into silence, he switches the omni off.]

[To receive a comment on his post so long after the fact was unexpected; for it to be a video of someone else playing on a level that -- he's not ashamed to admit it -- exceeds his own is even moreso. Shen Yuan listens to the video several times before a mental jab from his sword reminds him that some manner of polite acknowledgement is surely required.]

That was exquisite, young master. May this one know the name of your teacher?

[His wording is carefully considered, as is the privacy setting of his response. He spoke casually in the original video, not really expecting anyone other Westerners and the equivalent from other worlds to see it, but this young man is clearly cut from different cloth. Shen Yuan didn't spend three years in a xianxia setting not to recognize the hair style and clothing of a cultivator when he sees one, understand?]

[his teacher's name. jin guangyao stares at the message on the flat side of his omni in silence, letting the memories and feelings of his past life wreak a distant, muted devastation upon his heart. he isn't moved to tears, at the very least. not anymore.]

His name is Lan Xichen. Many call him Zewu-jun. This humble one thanks you for your praise, Shen-gongzi, though he is not worthy of it.

[zewu-jun. er-ge. lan xichen. lan huan. the very best of men. will jin guangyao ever see him again?]

Edited (html fail) 2022-10-10 17:19 (UTC)

This one must beg differ, if only in recognition of the simple fact that your skill far exceeds my own. Clearly not all of us lost our calluses upon rebirth.

[That's meant to be a friendly joke. Hopefully it lands; he's just a little out of practice at communicating in this register.]

Regrettably, I recognize neither Lan Xichen nor Zewu-jun. Perhaps we hail from different worlds? Yet this one feels certain that from your appearance, you must be a fellow cultivator. Please tell me, have you ever heard of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect?

[it lands. some of jin guangyao's melancholy eases, not that his smile can be seen through this medium.]

Deepest apologies, Shen-gongzi, but this one has never heard of a Cang Qiong Mountain Sect before.

[a pause, and then a follow up,] Please forgive my manners. This one is called Jin Guangyao, and you have read me correctly, gongzi. I am a cultivator, though not a strong one.

[Gold Bright Jade? Wow, this guy clearly comes from his world's equivalent of Huan Hua Palace! Not that "To pour Wall" is going to hold that against him; they're both in this pit together now, aren't they? Besides, who can help where they were born?]

Wonderful! The pleasure is all mine, Jin-gongzi. As you might have already gathered from my video, this one's name is Shen Yuan. Honored to make your acquaintance.

And please, don't worry too much about the other thing, all right? This one doesn't even have his golden core right now, but I've been managing just fine. [The temptation to use a smiley face emoji here is STRONG.] Like many places, who you know around here counts just as much as what you can do.

On that note, how would you feel about meeting me somewhere for tea, so we can chat more easily? I've been running errands around the city all day, so I'd surely appreciate pleasant company while I took a break. And I've lived here in Trench for four months now, so if you have any questions I'll do my best to answer them.

[indeed, who has any control over the circumstances of their birth?

the friendly offer gives him pause, though upon reflection he isn't sure why it should. what other purpose could have motivated him to share footage of his own guqin playing other than to forge a connection with someone who might have some shared understanding of his world? still, he hesitates, before writing his response.]

This one is honoured to accept your invitation. Where would you like to meet? [he's already memorized his map of the city, so finding his way there shouldn't be too difficult. (famous last words.)]

[Shen Yuan sends him a photo of a small teahouse near the lamp post in Willful Machine, clearly set up to service the people who work in the district but at least it's clean and the prices are reasonable, by local standards.

Shen Yuan also hesitates for a long moment before sending a photo of himself, suddenly aware of how shabby he must look to cultivator eyes. He pawned his guan the first week he was here, and while his hair still hangs down to his rear unbound he's been keeping it in only a simple braid, like a little kid. The hair around his face is still short and rather uneven from the time his former housemate tried to set his head on fire, and his green robes have been growing increasingly worn and shabby from hard use. He'd look completely ridiculous if he tried to play the lofty peak lord like this.

...So he's not even going to try. Better to be friendly and sincere and see how things go, right? At least that way if things go badly, it won't be his fault.]

Meet me here, in Willful Machine. I'll stay near the lamp post, so hopefully you won't have to look too long.

[he notices these details, of course, and catalogues them in the annals of his memory automatically. in lanling, perhaps he would have been swift to draw conclusions and cast judgment so as to avoid being caught flat-footed in the company of someone who would draw his father's ire. here, it is easier for his thoughts to turn instead to whether shen yuan, like lan xichen, simply does not know how to wash his own clothes without ruining them.]

I am familiar with this tea house. Thank you, gongzi. I will see you soon.

[...and he really does mean soon, because not five moments later, jin guangyao in all his carefully calculated poise rounds the corner nearest to the lamp post, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robes. he is quite short, his stature small, but to call him 'diminutive' would feel wrong, as well. he walks with quiet confidence that somehow manages not to come across as either arrogant or pompous. is it possible to have a friendly gait? because he has one, and when he spots shen yuan loitering by the lamp post, the perfectly inoffensive smile he presents to him is friendly, too, without veering into the overly familiar.]

Shen-gongzi, [he offers in greeting, along with a bow that, for once, he hopes won't be answered with bafflement.]

Edited 2022-10-11 00:34 (UTC)

"Jin-gongzi." Shen Yuan smiles back, relieved to be greeted so politely, and closes his silk fan so he can return the bow. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. In a strange land, nothing brings comfort like a familiar face." So what if they came from different worlds? They're still cultivators, a connection Shen Yuan's sorely missed as he struggles to rebuild his base.

"Shall we?" he offers, gesturing towards the teahouse with his fan.

"...In a strange land, nothing brings comfort like a familiar face."

After exchanging these blessedly familiar courtesies, Jin Guangyao straightens from the bow wearing a smile that is far less artifice than it was moments ago, though still perfectly polite. "This humble one admires Shen-gongzi's wisdom," he says and, at the gesture with that fan, dips his head in agreement. He steps through the door and seeks out a table with a view out one of the windows, but which also allows him to sit with his back to the solidity of a wall--

--and all at once, he is suddenly at a loss for what to say. He peers across the table at Shen Yuan and draws a blank; he knows the sort of simple, courtly small talk he would have reached for back in Lanling, but it carries no weight, smooths over no wrinkles, and serves no purpose in this place. Even the questions he has about Trench, about the horrors that surround them, sit awkwardly on his tongue.

Then: "It brought this one great comfort," he admits, "to hear your playing today."

There is a very brief moment of awkwardness when they both try to take the seat facing the door, before Shen Yuan course corrects and cedes the chair to his guest. It's been two months since his encounter with Varre, several weeks since the fiend issued his threat over the network. Shen Yuan doesn't dare to hope he's given up -- but if he hasn't yet found an opportunity to make his move, perhaps he isn't as capable as he presented himself to be? Unfortunately time alone will tell, as Shen Yuan still refuses to visit the house in Sanctuary himself.

He doesn't realize he's let himself get distracted until Jin Guangyao speaks. His face turns slightly warm, and thankfully the delicate gesture needed to open his fan returns to him more easily than Shen Qingqiu's fancy pronouns and turns of phrase as he covers his embarrassment with a demure glance over the fan's crinkled edge.

"Gongzi flatters me," he says calmly. "This one knows he rambled on somewhat. To be honest, I don't even remember everything I said." He'd been too embarrassed to go back and watch the video in full, but he thinks he said something about his first life in Beijing? So that's one thing Jin Guangyao will probably want to ask about. "But it was nice," he says quietly, "to touch a guqin again. This one is pleased that his playing also brought someone else a moment of peace."

It is flattery, but not empty praise. In Lanling City, he might have belaboured the point to further ingratiate himself to one of Jin Guangshan's sycophants--or one of his rivals--but there is no point here. Instead he responds to Shen Yuan's demurral with a polite smile of his own and lowered eyes, an acknowledgement of the vulnerable feelings that have been expressed here by two near strangers.

Then the server arrives, cheery but a bit strained from a day's work, and after greeting him with a courteous smile Jin Guangyao gestures for Shen Yuan to order first. "Shen-gongzi must have some recommendation. Afterwards," he adds, and there is true curiosity in his eyes when he speaks, "perhaps he will tell this one about his home in Beijing?" All he can glean from the name alone is that it is a northern capital, which tells him very little otherwise.

Edited 2022-10-11 13:57 (UTC)

Oh, thank heavens. Nothing makes Shen Yuan feel better like having a task to accomplish, and he takes on the job of ordering for them both with cheerful enthusiasm. He asks the waiter to bring an entire pot of black tea to the table, and orders savory sandwiches for his and Jin Guangyao's lunch, so his new friend won't have to rely too much on unfamiliar utensils. Once the waiter has departed Shen Yuan smiles at Jin Guangyao and sets his fan down on the table.

"Where should I begin?" he wonders out loud. "It will prevent confusion later, I suppose, if this one mentions that this is the third life he is able to remember, and the second time I've found myself transported to another world. Jin-gongzi asked about the world and city I was born into, however, and so I will explain that in that world, we had no concept of cultivation outside of works of fiction, and that while many people in that world follow the Dao and buddhas, many others consider them likewise to be little better than fantasies. In that world, scholars and learned kings had no means to increase their spiritual power or extend their lifespans past mortal limitations, and as there were no resentful ghosts or demons to fight they instead sought to improve society and increase their wealth through industry and mastery of the physical world, to great effect I must confess. For instance --" And he pauses here for dramatic effect, recalling Jin Guangyao's look of curiosity and playfully determined to blow his new friend's xianxia-attuned socks off, "This one's father was a merchant of some means, who did his work in a tower nearly a li in height, with outer walls made of steel and mirrored glass which shone in the sunlight. This arrangement was considered typical for his profession, and the building was one of several dozen in Beijing alone."

Edited 2022-10-12 09:47 (UTC)

"A li in height?" Jin Guangyao repeats, clearly shocked if his widened eyes are any indication. (Sometimes they aren't. Sometimes it is affectation. In this instance, it most assuredly is not.) He leans back some in his seat and seems to take a moment to visualize what Shen Yuan describes in his mind; the mirrored tower of steel and glass stretching upwards until it pierces the very heavens--and to think that, if one were to look out one of those glass windows, one could see dozens of them.

What a wonder they must be to behold. And how many hands had laboured to bring them into being? What became of them? Regardless, consider his xianxia-attuned socks thoroughly blown away.

He's been too quiet for too long, his good manners remind him abruptly. His eyes clear and he smiles, abashed. "Ah--please, forgive this one for his speechlessness. What Shen-gongzi has described is beyond even the golden marvel of Koi Tower in Lanling City." Whatever else he might say, he pauses then because the server returns with the tea and tray of sandwiches; Jin Guangyao dips his head graciously in thanks.

Edited 2022-10-12 15:13 (UTC)

Aw yes, that was exactly the kind of reaction he was going for! Shen Yuan merely smiles and waits for Jin-gongzi to recover from his shock -- and for the waiter to drop off their tea and lunch.

"Thank you," Shen Yuan says to them, and immediately reaches for the tea pot and a cup to pour for Jin Guangyao. "The secret is in the steel," he says confidently. "Some two or three hundred years before this one was born, a group of scholars developed the means to produce large quantities of steel, much more cheaply than ever before. This had a far-reaching ripple effect on the production of machinery, vehicles, and of course building materials. Glass was also much cheaper to make in that world than I imagine it was in your own; or at least that was the case when I found myself reborn into a world that possessed cultivation, but lower technology." That world had its own marvels, of course, like the pretty outer shell of Huan Hua Palace, but there was only so much that could be done with wood and stone. Even cultivators sometimes had to bow before the laws of physics.

"Was Lanling City Jin-gongzi's hometown?" Shen Yuan asks in turn, just as curious about his new companion. "What was it like?"

Another smile and gracious dip of his head as Shen Yuan pours the tea. Jin Guangyao is a thoughtful, attentive listener, committing all of what he hears into the indices of his memory to be retrieved later when necessary, or simply for the sheer enjoyment of contemplating them. 'Vehicles' are clearly referencing something very specific; 'machinery' may be more general, but the correlation between the two is plain. He is still pensively mulling over what his own world could achieve with the means of swiftly producing such quantities of steel when that question hits him.

"Was Lanling City Jin-gongzi's hometown? What was it like?"

He pauses in the midst of raising the teacup to his lips; something behind his eyes shutters. Then he pulls his usual mild smile back into place, warm and obliging, and shakes his head. "No," he replies simply, sips from the tea, and then lowers it back to the table. "No, gongzi, this humble one was born in a little city called Yunping." Long established habit and instinct have him reaching for the most pleasing and heroic version of his rise to prominence, the one preferred by his esteemed and venerable father, but Jin Guangyao stops himself before he says the words. They are so familiar to him by now that he could recite them flawlessly in his sleep, and they wouldn't even be a lie.

But Jin Guangshan is not here, and Trench is not Lanling City. And, as kind and generous as Shen Yuan has been to him so far, Jin Guangyao would rather know now what sort of man he is behind that silk fan.

"I was born in a brothel." He doesn't lose his inoffensive smile, but there's an edge to it now. "I did not come to Lanling City or my father's court until much later."

Shen Yuan cannot help the way his eyebrows go up in surprise, but his expression doesn't shutter and he doesn't lean back. There are volumes of pain in that simple phrase, he knows. I was born in a brothel...I did not come to my father's court until much later.

It's a story he's read hundreds of times before, and the idea of this intelligent, curious, physically unimposing man going through such a thing fills him with sympathetic pain. And here he's been prattling on about his dad's skyscraper, while Jin Guangyao sat there with that bombshell on his chest. Guilt clawing at his heart, Shen Yuan lowers his gaze and says,

"That must have made things difficult for you. I'm sorry."

"Please don't apologize," Jin Guangyao says and reaches partway across the table to rest his hand on the wood between them. (A bit like trying to stop a bow mid-way.) Whatever unpleasant reaction he had been bracing himself for, it is clear that Shen Yuan has not provided it. "It is this one who should apologize to Shen-gonzi for presenting him with such a test when he has been so kind, and we have only just met."

There follows a brief pause while he considers his words, tracing a fingertip around the rim of his teacup. "There is no one in the cultivation world who does not know of this one's lowly birth, and who does not have some opinion on it. In this place, this one knows that he could have kept it a secret from Shen-gongzi indefinitely. But," a vague little gesture with one hand, a subtle shift in pronouns, and he looks up to meet Shen Yuan's gaze with a shrewd glint in his eyes. "I confess that I wanted to see how you would react."

It softens almost immediately afterwards when he says, "And now I have," takes another sip from his tea, and then raises his eyebrows appreciatively. "Mm. This blend is very good." tl;dr he has decided that he likes you.

A test? Ah. "I believe I understand," Shen Yuan says slowly, picking up one of the sandwiches. "Thanking Jin-gongzi for his honesty." He bites into it and chews slowly, gently reshuffling his impressions of Jin Guangyao. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but it's clear now that for the man sitting across from him at the table, his unassuming and friendly appearance is at least partially a mask he wears to keep other people at a distance. Yet he deliberately cracked that mask for Shen Yuan.

With his vast knowledge of stories and tropes, Shen Yuan's imagination immediately conjures up a scenario to explain all this. The illegitimate son of a prostitute and a lord, finally permitted to join his father's court but left at sea amongst cruel, gossipy nobles who watched and judged his every move. To survive in such a place, someone would have to either prove themselves so powerful as to be untouchable (nearly impossible, unless they had the blessed life of a Protagonist) or learn to play the game better than them all. He was no longer part of that world of course, but didn't Shen Yuan know better than anyone how hard it could be to shake off old habits?

Put in that light, the offense of being tested in such a way was barely anything, just a little jab between new friends. Like an emotional vaccination! Putting it that way immediately made Shen Yuan feel better about having his emotions manipulated, and the smile he gives Jin Guangyao after putting down his sandwich is broad and very real.

"It's not bad," he says off-handedly, and he's not talking about the tea. "But Jin-gongzi should know," he continues wryly, with an ironic lift of one eyebrow, "this place and the forces that rule it have a most peculiar knack for forcing uncomfortable secrets into the light. It's fine if he doesn't care to share everything right away; this one certainly won't hold it against him. But Jin-gongzi should know that this master is also the last person in the world to judge another for the circumstances of their birth -- or the sins they may have had to commit in order to survive."

"...or the sins they may have had to commit in order to survive."

"Shen-gongzi is most generous with his compassion and understanding," Jin Guangyao replies, but he doesn't pull up the protective mask of his inoffensive smile when he says the words. The words are sincerely meant, but they're spoken with a soft, self-directed bitterness that lingers, twisting the corners of his lips into a delicate frown. "But he doesn't know the nature of the sins. This one can't in fairness ask him to withhold his judgment."

He lets the rest slide off his shoulders without comment, but Shen Yuan's words have sunk their claws into his thoughts anyway. Yes, this place does seem uniquely designed to drag to the very surface all of the things that its inhabitants wish to keep locked away, and intellectually he knows it is only a matter of time before some of his demons are laid bare. His fingers curl in on themselves, a subtle indication of his anxiety, and then he forces himself to reach for one of the sandwiches, breathing out.

"What was it like," he asks quietly at last, "when you arrived here? Were you afraid?"

"But he doesn't know the nature of the sins. This one can't in fairness ask him to withhold his judgment."

Shen Yuans hums non-committedly around a sip of tea. He has his own skeletons in the closet after all, possibly of equal or greater magnitude to Jin Guangyao's? But there's no way to be sure without sharing them, and he's not sure that's an appropriate topic for what's still technically their first meeting...

And then Jin Guangyao has to go and ask that. And of course Shen Yuan has to answer.

"Afraid? No," he says quietly, setting down his tea cup. His fingers drift over towards his fan, playing the guard for a moment before he pulls his hand away with a sigh. "I was relieved, actually. I thought I'd been given a chance to escape retribution for...for my own sins." He sighs again, leaning back in his chair. "In my second life, I was given a choice between betraying one of my disciples, or returning to my life in Beijing. But that life had ended, Jin-gongzi. I fell ill from accidentally eating spoiled food, I felt myself weakening before the end. If I'd returned, who knew what would have happened? And I -- due to the circumstances under which I began that second life, I had some knowledge of future events. I knew my disciple would survive the betrayal, even if his heart were broken. I..."

His fists clench in his lap, struggling with the urge to reach for his fan and hide his face. But doesn't his new friend deserve to know what kind of man he really is? And is there really any point in trying to hide it? It will come out sooner or later, Trench will make sure of that. "Some might call me a coward, for making the choice I did," he finally says. "I would not disagree with them. But I know that if I'd stayed in that world, my disciple's vengeance would have been terrible. Bloody. It was a relief to escape."

They both have their secrets. Jin Guangyao knows the weight of them in shape if not in detail, and can tell through only a glance at Shen Yuan's hand as it wavers while reaching for his fan that the depths of his pain are far deeper than he lets on even here, even now. But he has allowed Jin Guangyao a glimpse of it here; a confidence for a confidence, a gesture of trust.

"Anyone who might call Shen-gongzi's actions cowardly has never known that kind of fear and certainty," he answers quietly. He reaches for the teapot and offers to refill Shen Yuan's first, before topping up his own. "We do what we must to protect ourselves. And, for what this one's opinion is worth," he adds, smiling a little, "I am pleased that you escaped."

"Thank you," he says quietly, to both the tea and the sympathy. His composure is shattered; Shen Yuan honestly thought it would be easier to share his story, after Trench forced him to reveal so much of it to Viktor a few months ago -- but it wasn't. It wasn't easy at all. He holds his teacup in a hand that slightly trembles and sips the hot liquid slowly, trying to calm himself down.

"We seem to understand each other quite well," he finally says hoarsely.

It is so easy to see shades of his own pain in that trembling hand and that desperate, fraying grip on his composure. Jin Guangyao feels a clench in his stomach, an ache for some longed for comfort that young Meng Yao had never been offered. He is the worst person to try to offer it now. He's also the only one.

He hesitates, then wordlessly reaches across the table a second time and lets his hand hover gently over Shen Yuan's forearm. At the slightest indication the touch is unwelcome, he will withdraw his hand. But if he doesn't perceive any discomfort, he gently lays his palm against his friend's wrist.

Between Luo Binghe's bewildering but adorable clumsiness and Liu Qingge's earnest help managing the effects of Without a Cure, it would be inaccurate to say that Shen Yuan was wholly unused to being touched -- but much as he cared about them, neither of them had inspired quite the same mix of tangled emotions that he feels right now, looking across the table at somebody he met less than hour ago. There's some discomfort of course, at being so vulnerable and at being seen to be so vulnerable, but there's appreciation too, for Jin Guangyao's kindness and shared vulnerability as well as the clear effort it's taking him to let that part of him be seen. It seems like they're both rather reticent men, and yet Jin Guangyao's reaching out to him anyway.

That gives Shen Yuan all the push he needs to respond in kind, turning his hand to gently squeeze Jin Guangyao's wrist before patting the back of his friend's hand. He raises his head, making eye contact with a gentle smile. "Jin-gongzi really is a kind and gentle man," he says, before gently pulling away and sitting up straight. "Come on," he says briskly. "We should finish our lunch before someone else shows up needing the table."

Not a refusal or a deflection at all, merely a request for a little time and space to process. Shen Yuan's feeling a little raw from all this emotional intimacy, that's all.

Edited 2022-10-16 13:26 (UTC)

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