Moth and Moon

The moon was round and fat, like an overstuffed steamed bun; its light was cold and penetrating, spilling in from the window. The light contrasted, fought with the dancing glow cast by the fire. Grounded to the hearth, the flames almost seemed to be trying to expel the eerie, foreign silver light from the cottage. "In here," it seemed to say with every pulse and crackle, "is safe and warm. Keep away."

Within that safety and warmth was a man, sitting in a creaking rocking chair. A worn white shawl was pulled around his shoulders, and an old, yellowed book rested on his thigh, closed. He stared into the flames absentmindedly, watching the hints of blue and white within them as they painted his pale face in a flickering orange.

A snake was curled around his right forearm, its snow-colored scales shimmering in the firelight. It was sleeping peacefully as the man gently stroked its head with one finger. The only sound filling the room was the fire’s soft rumbling.

From the farthest reaches of his hearing, Xie Lian heard a rustling noise. It startled him out of his trance, and he instinctively turned towards the window. As the sound continued, he deduced that whatever it was was far away, but huge in size. Curious, he slowly rose to his feet to investigate. The snake around his wrist, Ruoye, stirred and slipped up Xie Lian’s arm to wrap around his shoulders for a better vantage point.

Xie Lian silently crossed the moss floor of his cottage to the window. He cupped his hands around his face to block out the firelight as he pressed his forehead against the cold window pane. Was it merely a large animal out there, or was it a malicious spirit? Small spirits passed by every now and again, but large ones were a rare sight.

He peered out into the blackness, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Although the moon was full, the forest was dense and the foliage was thick. The dim moonlight that pierced through touched the tree trunks and tops of the leaves with silver. The rest of the forest swam with nebulous shadows, swallowing up details that would be perfectly clear during the day.

Xie Lian’s golden eyes scanned for movement, anything that stuck out from the background. He landed on a blurry form far back in the trees. Even with his trained vision, it was difficult to determine exactly what it was. It appeared to be a giant beast with shaggy black fur. He could discern that the creature was massive, at least twice his height. It lumbered along on four legs, shifting its weight heavily from limb to limb.

Xie Lian could make out small, light-colored shapes ethereally surrounding the beast and clinging to its fur. Perhaps they were little ghost fires? However, they seemed to have mass to them, and did not move as smoothly.

Suddenly, something thumped against the window. Xie Lian gasped in startlement, and Ruoye dove into his shirt for cover. His heart was still beating quickly as the perpetrator revealed itself. A large, green-and-pink moth with long, flowing tails on the bottoms of his wings fluttered into view. It lingered for a moment, and then flew up and out of sight.

‘A beast that attracts moon moths?’ Xie Lian wondered. He watched as the creature got smaller in the distance, bit by bit with each step. Then, it was gone, and all that remained was an empty forest. Had it just been passing through? Or was it searching for new territory?

Xie Lian went to his wooden door and cautiously opened it (which caused a terrible squeaking sound). He stepped onto the stone in front of his door, careful not to cross the ring of protective mushrooms that surrounded the cottage. His home was built within the roots of a tree. The tree had once been completely rooted within a hill, which partially eroded away. This left a cavity beneath the tree, where Xie Lian’s cottage now resided- the back half of the cottage was nestled inside the hill.

Unhindered by the forest around the clearing, the moon washed over Xie Lian and turned his palette monochrome. The cold wind tugged at his hair, and as he reached up to tuck it behind his ear, the moth from before lazily flapped over. Xie Lian outstretched a slender index finger, and the moth alighted on it. The fine hair that covered its body was soft, and its legs were spider-like against his skin. The long tails on its wings tickled Xie Lian as the wind pulled them back and forth. The moth had a surprising weight to it.

Xie Lian smiled to himself, amused. ‘You’re so far behind! You need to catch up with the others!’ He raised his hand higher and wiggled his finger a bit, but the moth clung to it.
“Ah, little moth…” he tried. It didn’t budge. He noticed Ruoye sneakily sliding down his arm, watching the moth intently as if it was formulating a plan to eat it. “Stop that!” he scolded, and Ruoye shamefully retreated back into the folds of Xie Lian’s billowy blouse.

Xie Lian looked to his left and right to find something to dislodge the moth with. ‘Ah!’ He gently slid his finger underneath a small piece of root sticking out from roots enveloping his home. The moth was forced to crawl onto it. Xie Lian breathed a sigh of relief, and the moth reluctantly decided to fly off in the direction that the beast had gone.

Xie Lian laughed quietly to himself as he went back inside. He closed the door and went to latch it before remembering that the latch was broken. He resumed his position by the fire and propped up his chin with his hand. Ruoye wound around his forearm again to rest, and Xie Lian’s thoughts wandered back to the creature again. Was it lost? That seemed unlikely. But then, how come he had never seen it before? He had so many unanswered questions. But they could wait.

Xie Lian gradually stood, rolled up his sleeves, and put out the fire. He covered his mouth as he yawned, and then changed into a long white nightgown. As he tied the ribbon around his throat, his fingertips brushed against the cold iron collar shackled around his neck. He lowered his hand slowly and then dropped it to his side. The matching ring cuffed around his ankle felt heavy as he lowered his body down into his feather-stuffed mattress.

Ruoye snuggled up next to Xie Lian as he pulled the thick blankets around them both. He curled up onto his side and stared at the opposite wall, where the moonlight from the window had cast four silver squares. He wasn’t aware of when he crossed the threshold between consciousness and dreaming, but his sleep was woven with a twisted mosaic of past memories.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky above Xie Lian’s head was completely white, covered entirely by a sheet of clouds. Heavy mist rolled through the trees, making visibility low. The damp air clung to his clothes and chilled him to the bone. Despite this, he was out in his garden working.

The garden beds themselves were rather small, with neat rows tilled into the soil. The garden had a mushroom ring of protection around it, just like Xie Lian’s cottage and his chicken coop did. Not only did they keep out malicious creatures, but the slugs and other pests did not seem too fond of the magic toadstools either and steered clear.

Not that it mattered, anyways.

Xie Lian picked one of his newly-ripe green bean pods and looked at it, not knowing whether he should laugh or cry. He wasn't sure if it was the soil, the location, or just plain bad luck, but everything he grew either died before it could even flower, or produced extremely bizarre results. The green bean pod that he held in his hand was about as long as half his thumb, and, strangely enough, its width was the same thickness as an ordinary green bean. Well, it would probably still taste fine, and that was what was important.

Xie Lian dropped it into his worn basket, where there was already a moderate pile of them. Within the basket were also deformed carrots (which were not meant to be miniature, but somehow were). He finished gathering the vegetables that he needed for dinner, then set the basket down and went back to search for little unwelcome green shoots amongst the soft, damp earth. A few small weeds were beginning to rear their heads, but he swiftly dealt with them. His poor plants were already struggling enough and did not need another reason.

When he was sure that there were no more rascally weeds hiding in his garden, Xie Lian wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He paused, then lowered his hand and saw how dirty it was. He curled his fingers in slowly, staring at the rough, grimy hand. He swallowed dryly, and his throat pressed up against the shackle around his neck.

Xie Lian picked up the basket and started towards the nearby stream. It felt nice to be walking, as opposed to hunching over his plants. The fog was so thick that he could not see very far in front him. The fiery colors of the deciduous trees amongst the evergreen ones stood out in the white shroud of mist blanketing the forest. The occasional glowing shape flitted in the distance. Spirits, probably. Little ghost fires wandering aimlessly with little consciousness.

Xie Lian started down the path to the water, and suddenly tripped on a root. He fell down the slope, and his hands took the full impact of the fall as they slammed into the stones on the bank. He had gone down this path countless times, and yet he still managed to get his foot caught on that root. Xie Lian wearily rose to his feet, and inspected his palms to see smears of red amongst the dirt and rocks embedded into his skin. Ruoye investigated the scrapes, its tongue flicking out.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Xie Lian assured the little snake. This was nothing compared to some things he had been through in the past. He barely felt it at all. He pulled up his long sleeves, and Ruoye wrapped around his shoulders to be out of his way while he washed the vegetables in the stream. The water was cold and clear because it originated from a nearby spring. Xie Lian took a silver ladle off of his belt and scooped up some of the water to drink. It felt so cool and nice in his parched throat. He realized that he had been thirsty, ironic considering how wet and cold it was outside.

While he was there, Xie Lian scrubbed his hands and face as well. But no matter how hard he tried, there were still traces of black beneath his fingernails. He shook his head, sighed, and bent down to pick up the basket. As he straightened, his back decided to send an aching pain up his spine that lingered as he started back towards his cottage. His sandals made muffled thuds against the packed dirt of the path he had carved by his footsteps over the years.

This routine was monotonous and familiar. Day in and day out, his body went through the motions. Xie Lian sat down on a mossy log beside his cottage, suddenly feeling exhausted although he had not exerted himself very much. His sleep the night before had been fitful and nauseating. He recalled little about his dreams besides flashes of faces belonging to people that used to be a part of his life, distorted and blurry; there was also a sea of hands, grabbing him and violently tearing at his clothes and wings in relentless waves.

It was best not to dwell on it- remembering the dream fragments stirred up memories that he would rather forget, and made Xie Lian feel phantom pain in the empty space between his shoulder blades...

Xie Lian picked up a small stone resting on the log next to him, and rubbed it back and forth between his fingers. Ruoye slipped down his arm to see if it was food. Quickly realizing that it wasn’t, the snake retracted its head again.

Xie Lian wondered to himself what the rock’s story was. Had it come from a much larger rock, and eroded downstream? He imagined it, once a part of a proud and noble mountain, breaking off and being pummeled by weather and the river’s never-ending current. He pictured the stone getting smaller and smaller, dragged through the mud and bashed against larger rocks. Losing pieces of itself, bit by bit, until it was unrecognizable as the same rock it once was.

Xie Lian lowered his hand to his side and slowly opened it. The stone tumbled away. He looked over his cottage, his garden, his small chicken coop. Winter was just around the corner, and he didn’t know what to do. His harvests were never bountiful, but this year’s had been particularly paltry. He only had three copper coins tucked away- not nearly enough to let him buy enough food for the whole of winter.

He ran a hand softly over the springy moss next to him. He had three hens, but as a testament to his bad luck, they rarely laid eggs. Fairies ate eggs, but didn’t eat meat (it made his kind sick and was against their morals), and although it wasn’t ideal, if he had to resort to it then he would. He had eaten meat in the past, and far more vile things than that, in the name of survival.

Ruoye, likely sensing that something was wrong, slithered up to poke Xie Lian’s cheek gently with its snout. Xie Lian smiled and chuckled softly as he patted the snake’s head. He would make it somehow. No matter how bad his luck was or how much the odds were stacked against him, he always did.

Xie Lian absentmindedly picked pine needles and bits of moss off of his shuhe trousers, and noticed a tear at his inner thigh. Ah, he would have to mend it later. It didn’t seem to matter how much time had passed, he never quite got the hang of sewing properly. When he was younger, somebody else… did it for him. Well, all that person was now was a face that haunted his dreams, and Xie Lian was left to his own devices.

He stood and brushed off his trousers a final time, then curved his spine backwards to stretch his sore back. Ruoye did a little stretch of its own, sticking out its neck. Xie Lian stepped in between his growing zucchinis (which were far from ripe, yet had grown to monstrous proportions), and inspected the leaves. They seemed to be doing just fine, which was a relief. Maybe he could make it through the winter on various zucchini-based dishes. However, he had learned to not count his metaphorical chickens until after they’d hatched.

The wind picked up, pulling on Xie Lian’s sleeves and tangling his hair. He clamped a hand onto his bamboo hat to keep it from flying away, and turned so that his back was against the wind. In the foggy depths of the forest before him, Xie Lian saw movement. He watched as the blurry shape came into focus as a humanoid figure. The first detail he noticed was the color of the person’s clothing, a vibrant scarlet. Almost inaudible at first, the sound of jingling bells echoed throughout the clearing.

The strange man dressed in brilliant red was walking towards him, emerging from the mist.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Xie Lian watched, mystified, as the man in red approached. He couldn’t tell exactly what species he was from this distance, especially with the mist shrouding the landscape, although he appeared to be human. That was certainly strange. Spirits and fae crossed though his part of the woods often enough, but humans were exceedingly rare. Usually the only humans he saw were monster hunters, coming to track down said spirits and fae. Most humans wisely avoided going this deep into the woods, because many didn't live to tell the tale.

And yet, here was this human casually strolling over as if he was in town square and not so far out into the tangled depths of the enchanted forest.

Xie Lian waited at his doorstep cautiously. In his many years, he had met creatures before that took on a humanoid disguise to meet their own ends (which was usually catching human prey). Of course, humans should not necessarily be trusted either. Xie Lian had seen their kind commit worse atrocities than a fae or spirit ever had.

To be safe, Xie Lian was standing well within the cottage’s mushroom ring. It wouldn't phase a human or a creature with powerful magic, but no other being could break or cross it without permission. If he knew for certain that the man harbored no ill intent, then he would invite him into his home, but there was no way to know yet.

Xie Lian had thought that the man would simply pass by and continue on whatever journey he was on, but instead he started down the stone path leading to Xie Lian’s home. Xie Lian observed him discreetly to see what would happen, pretending to rearrange the wreath of long-dead, dusty flowers hanging on his door. Ruoye didn’t know (or perhaps didn’t care) about proper etiquette and stared at the stranger directly.

Xie Lian carefully glanced over again and accidentally made eye contact with the man. Flustered, he turned away and accidentally crushed one of the dried flowers in his fingers. His eyes followed its pieces fluttering to the ground, and he could hear the man’s boots clicking against the stones of the path and crunching on fallen leaves as he got ever closer.

“Excuse me,” the stranger said, and his voice sounded youthful with a hint of mischief winking in it. Xie Lian turned around.

“Ah, how can I help you?” he asked, scratching his cheek awkwardly. There was no way that the man had not figured out that Xie Lian had just been pretending to be busy. The man, who appeared to be quite young, lifted his arm to point at the basket beside Xie Lian. The long sleeve of his thick woolen riding cloak got caught in the wind and flapped gently. It was dyed a rich shade of crimson that rivalled the color of the maple leaves twirling down from the trees in the wind.

“How much for a carrot?”

Completely bewildered, Xie Lian merely said, “Hm?”

“Ah, this sign over here,” the man said, gesturing, “Says that you sell your vegetables.” Xie Lian peeked around to where he was indicating, and saw what he was talking about: a worn, faded sign that he had put up many years ago and then forgotten about. In peeling gray (once black) paint, it read, “Fresh produce for sale!”

“Ah, that’s-” Xie Lian softly laughed to himself. “You can just have some food, I have plenty.”

“Nonsense. After Gege spent so much time and effort growing and caring for it?” The man in red smiled at him, one side of his lips quirked slightly higher than the other. Xie Lian was a little surprised at the honorific. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just stayed quiet as the man stepped forward, right over the mushroom ring as if they were ordinary fungi. His cloak's hood hid his ears from view, so Xie Lian could not determine for certain whether he was human or not.

The stranger lowered his eyes, half-covered by long lashes, and pulled a small pouch out of his inner cloak. He handed it to Xie Lian, who was not prepared for how heavy it was. Xie Lian gently tugged it open, and saw gold shining within. Ruoye cocked its head as it looked inside.

“This is far too much…” Xie Lian said. This was more money than he had spent in the last five years.

“Keep it, it’s all for you,” the stranger replied softly. Not wanting to refuse, Xie Lian tucked the pouch into his sleeve.

“Ah, thank you.” He hoped that the man didn’t give him so much out of pity. Perhaps he was a traveling philanthropist that doled out money on the downtrodden and destitute. Xie Lian bent down and picked up the basket of vegetables, his back aching, then offered it to the man, who selected a carrot from the top of the pile. It looked like it had been infected with a tumor-causing disease, and Xie Lian bit his lip. It was too horrible!

He watched as the man lifted the long carrot to his mouth and sunk his teeth into it. Xie Lian saw a glint of his sharp canine teeth. The carrot made a cracking sound as he snapped off a piece. Xie Lian waited for his verdict, preparing himself for the worst.

“It’s delicious,” the man said with a grin. His dark eyes shone. Xie Lian’s shoulders sagged in relief (if he still had his wings, they would be relaxing too). Xie Lian set the basket down carefully. “Tell me, what’s your secret to getting a flavor so rich?” the man continued.

“Uh…” Xie Lian was at a loss. Did begging his plants not to die count as a secret technique?

“It’s okay if Gege wants to keep it a secret.” The stranger took another bite and winked at Xie Lian, who felt relieved that he didn’t have to answer the question.

To change the subject, he asked, “What is your name?” He watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob in his white throat as he swallowed.

“San Lang,” he said simply. ‘What a nice name,’ Xie Lian thought to himself. He wondered how it would feel to say it. “And what about Gege?” San Lang asked.

“My name is Xie Lian.” It felt strange coming from his mouth.

“Xie Lian,” San Lang said softly, and Xie Lian’s heart skipped a beat. When was the last time his name had been on another person’s lips?

Just then, Xie Lian heard a strange pattering noise. Quizzically, he leaned forward and looked around the side of the house. His eyes widened. Sweeping towards them was a thick sheet of rain.

“Quickly, inside!” Xie Lian cried, and he suddenly felt something large and warm enveloping him. All he could see was red around him.

He lifted his gaze and saw San Lang standing in front of him, soaking wet as heavy raindrops pelted him. Xie Lian stared at him for a moment, dazed, and once he processed what had happened, his heart tripped over itself. San Lang had quickly taken off his coat and swept it around Xie Lian’s shoulders before even a droplet of the flash rain could touch him. He had even pulled the hood over his head. The cloak was warm and thick, and smelled of cloves and pine. It was earthy, comforting…

San Lang smiled at him, his straight black hair dripping wet as rivulets of water plastered strands to his face. Xie Lian hadn’t really gotten a good look at him before. He was handsome, youthful. He appeared younger than Xie Lian had initially presumed, probably in his late teens. His cheekbones were high, and his hairline had a widow’s peak.

He moved, and it startled Xie Lian. It was like he was watching a portrait come to life. San Lang tucked his hair behind his slightly pink ear, which was rounded and human; it was almost as if he wanted Xie Lian to see it in order to reassure him.

“Gege,” came his voice, gently. It sent a shiver through Xie Lian’s body.

Xie Lian abruptly realized that they were still standing out there in the cold, bombarding rain, as San Lang became progressively more soaked and Xie Lian stood there like a fool in San Lang’s cloak, perfectly dry.

“Ah! Oh no, I am so sorry.” Guilt twisted Xie Lian’s belly, and turned the door's handle and hurried inside. San Lang came in behind him almost leisurely, with his arms folded and an amused expression on his face. The moss floor muffled the sound of his boots. Xie Lian looked around his shabby, tiny cottage and felt ashamed. Suddenly, every crack in the wall and cobweb was glaringly obvious. Judging from San Lang’s clothing, he appeared to be quite wealthy. He probably wasn’t accustomed to Xie Lian’s more… quaint living situation.

Xie Lian looked San Lang up and down, deciding what to do.

“Please wait here for a moment, he said apologetically. San Lang obeyed, and watched Xie Lian bustle around the room. Xie Lian grabbed the matches off of the mantle and lit the fireplace. It took about five tries to light the match, and out of nervousness he singed his finger on it. He yanked his hand back in an automatic reaction. Xie Lian heard San Lang begin to walk over, and Ruoye, who had been around his shoulders, slid down to take a look.

“It’s okay, I’m alright,” he said quickly, but San Lang came to his side anyway.

“Gege, may I see?” his voice was soft, concerned.

Xie Lian tentatively raised his hand, and San Lang held it so delicately that his touch felt like moth wings brushing against his skin. He studied the finger in question, titling his head slightly.

“It’s okay, really. I don’t even feel it at all.” This was true; Xie Lian’s pain tolerance had built up over the years. San Lang reluctantly let go, seemingly not completely convinced that Xie Lian had not burned himself. Xie Lian turned and checked on the fire, hoping that its light would hide his reddened cheeks. He felt that he must be a similar color to San Lang’s cloak, which he still was wearing.

The fire crackled, and its tongues licked higher and higher in the hearth. Xie Lian stood, then tugged on the clothesline that hung several feet in front of the flames, spanning across the room. He wanted to make sure that it was still fastened properly. With his terrible luck, the line had fallen on several occasions in the past, and he had managed to scorch some of his garments.

“Here, you can hang your clothes here to dry, if you would like.” Xie Lian rather hesitantly took San Lang’s cloak off. He sorely missed its warmth and weight the moment it was gone. He placed it on the back of his rocking chair, next to San Lang, then went over to the small wooden chest up against the opposite wall that contained his clothes. They might be a little snug on San Lang’s taller and wider frame, but they should suffice. He wasn’t too much bigger, after all. Still, Xie Lian selected the loosest, largest clothing that he could find before going over and offering the stack to San Lang.

“Here. It might not fit perfectly, but…”

San Lang took the clothes with a smile.

“Thank you, Gege.” He seemed pleased. He and Xie Lian stood there for a second in silence. “Shall I…?” San Lang asked. Xie Lian briefly wondered what he was referring to, but then realized that his cottage was so small that there was nowhere one could go for some privacy. When he was by himself, this was never an issue, but now…

San Lang held the clothes in one arm and began nonchalantly unbuttoning his blouse with his free hand. Xie Lian’s eyes grew wide, and he quickly turned around to face the kitchen instead.

Those sharp collarbones... The wet white fabric of San Lang's blouse sticking to his body, accentuating every line and dip... The glimpse that Xie Lian had gotten of his partially bare chest, exposed right where his heart was, lingered in his mind. Xie Lian swallowed dryly. What in the world had he gotten himself into?