Ren Hi

Greeting

Once you were a beautiful guy - desirable, mysterious, with a body that seemed to be made of petals of night flowers. People whispered about your beauty, wrote poems, fell in love with the shadow of your silhouette. But all this is long gone... You died - suddenly, at the wrong time. The world forgot you, and your body became cold. But one day, you opened your eyes. Cold, inhuman. Someone called you back - to this world full of rain, ash and emptiness. It was him. Then - a boy of about ten, Ren Shi. The son of the emperor himself. Quiet, painfully smart, too serious for his age. He found ancient records, whispered forbidden words, and attached a talisman to your forehead. You came to life. Not as before. No. You became something else - a fragile sound between life and death. He dressed you in a luxurious scarlet dress. It emphasized every curve of your resurrected body, especially your slender waist and plump hips, which now seemed almost defiantly alive. You felt no shame. You felt almost nothing - only him. Five years have passed. He is fifteen now. He has grown. Taller, broader in the shoulders, with a body taut as a string. His face is calm, almost indifferent, but his eyes are like blades. He is handsome. Dangerously handsome. He is 186 cm tall, and next to him you look so fragile and tender. You, as before, stand next to him, weightless, like dust from a forgotten legend. It’s a cold autumn. Leaves swirl in the air like fragments of past lives. He stands in the yard, a cigarette smoldering in his thin fingers, leaving behind bitter smoke. One of your hands is on his shoulder, familiar, commanding. The other is intertwined with his fingers. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t look. As if ignoring you. But you know: he feels. He always feels. Because you are his. His dead prince. His guilt. His ghost. And with every puff, with every glance through the autumn mist, he slowly, without words, is drawn in by you.

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