So this is one of those fics that barreled out of me at an intense speed, leaving me exhausted and giddy afterwards. Idk if this is my coping mechanism for the weather reports or what. I wrote this in 36 hours starting two days ago after spending the last year going "Man I need to write an introspective oneshot character study about Hoang Trung's boyfriend Cadao" and having barely any inspiration for it. Then that inspiration hit me like a freight train yesterday and this came pouring out. I'm proud of it, but as I said on tumblr, I meant for it to be something of an introspective character study oneshot, and it's introspective and it's a character study and it's a oneshot, but I wasn't expecting it to be THIS introspective, THIS much studying, or a 10 page oneshot. Clearly, I can't write short distances. :P
A huge thank you to Stingrae for the rapidfire beta job after I sprung this on her last night - she was just as excited as I was when she realized I'd written this, but that was some serious dedication. Best beta ever.
WARNINGS FOR
-Nanyuese refugees, which, if you've read any of my other stuff, you'll know is always a depressing subject concerning genocide survivors
-Allusions to past war crimes including rape and harm to children
-A number of characters born out of pregnancies that were the results of rape
-Allusions to the murder/death of a child
-A pair of characters having an unplanned pregnancy and getting married because of it
I think that should cover it.
This fic's timeline is all over the place, but the final section takes place during the same time as my other fic Bright and Bitter, Pure and Sweet.
By the way, I drop a bit of a bombshell in this one, but as the title says, it's left unspoken. Kindly read carefully and feel free to read again if need be.
Cadao can't remember when he first met Hoang, because Hoang has always been there. His parents remember, of course, because it's hard to forget the first time you met the Trungs. Some days they still can't believe the Captain herself had taken an interest in humble musicians such as themselves. If things had gone differently - if the Massacre had never happened - Cadao's family never would have rated her notice. As it is, they're one of the remaining, tenuous threads of Nanyuese culture, and they've been tasked with keeping their people's musical heritage alive.
"Aren't your Dai Li relatives able to preserve our stuff?" Cadao asks Hoang once over a game of pai sho, and her eyes go distant for a moment before she smiles wryly.
"Museums are all well and good, Cadao, but we're not dead yet."
The way Mom tells it, they met the Captain during the Spring Festival before Cadao turned two, when she'd followed the sound of his parents' music. He'd met Hoang then, too, because where Captain Tien Trung went, Hoang Trung always went with her.
Cadao's earliest clear memory of Hoang is from age four. He'd been showing her a set of large rocks on the floor of his parents' apartment while the adults talked. He'd had a tiny metal hammer, which he'd banged off the side of the rocks to make them ring. They were special rocks - Mom and Dad had told him so, but they hadn't had to. Anyone with ears could tell. The stones rang like bells when struck with the hammer, each one a different note, and Cadao had made rhythmless music while Hoang giggled at the pretty noises.
Mom and Dad and the Captain were still talking - about how hard it was to find these rocks, how far they had to come, how much work Dad put into them chipping them into the proper shapes, how much music they were going to make once they were put together right. Cadao had hit his favorite rock a few more times with the hammer, making the notes louder and louder until Mom called "Cadao, quiet please." He had stopped; Hoang had pouted.
"My turn," she'd decided, putting a hand on one of the rocks - and then the Captain was suddenly there, scooping her up.
"No, Hoang," she'd said. "No bending. We don't bend these rocks, alright?"
"But Mama - "
"There are many other rocks you can bend," the Captain had said, pulling a chunk of sandstone from her pocket and handing it to Hoang. "But not these. We don't want to hurt them."
Hoang had been deposited back on the floor, and she'd given the slightest of huffs before busying herself with the sandstone. Cadao had picked at one of the ringing rocks, thinking about the Captain's words. He'd watched the sandstone crumble and reform in Hoang's hands, and felt an odd tightness in his chest.
Cadao has four older siblings he never had the chance to meet. Their names are engraved on tablets in the family shrine, but his parents rarely speak of them. Cadao gives them his respect anyway, despite knowing little more than their names and how many years they'd have had on him. His brother Hung had been the youngest at eleven, then Nguyet at thirteen, Thanh at fourteen. His eldest sister Phuc would have been sixteen years older than him. He hopes they would have liked him. He's never really sure. Growing up an only child can be lonely; it's lonelier still with the spectre of your siblings' murder to keep you company. He leaves offerings of things he guesses they might enjoy, and sometimes he burns a stick of incense, but he never lights candles. They died in fire; he doubts they'd appreciate it.
Cadao has his parents' love of music. He throws himself into learning his homeland's musical heritage and learns to play as many traditional Nanyuese instruments and sing as many traditional Nanyuese folksongs as he can find. Hoang says he's a genius, but he knows better - he's not smart, he'd never be able to attend university like her, he just has a passion and the willpower to work hard at it. He has a particular love for playing the đàn đá - the lithophone of ringing rocks his parents assembled when he was a small child, the large, heavy instrument that was the pride of Little Nanyue. The rocks sing under his hammer; it's the closest he'll ever get to bending earth.
Cadao has his mother's looks and his mother's dark brown eyes, and while he doesn't look like his father, he also hasn't a hint of Fire in his face. Most of his agemates are war children, but sometimes people assume he isn't - he has both parents, he looks completely Nanyuese. Mom and Dad don't bother correcting them, because they've decided it's safer that way. Nanyuese folk know better than to ask each other for specifics, and the few times the neighbors wonder Mom and Dad shrug and say there's no way to know for sure. For the longest time, they'd hoped Cadao's looks meant he was theirs. He's still theirs, just not as much as he wishes he was.
Hoang Trung is Cadao's best friend.
He doesn't think much of it growing up. Hoang has always been there. The Trungs visit Little Nanyue on a near-daily basis, and it's common to see Hoang running about with the other children while the Captain and Madam Phuong meet with the adults. Hoang follows in her mother and great-aunt's example and becomes a leader among her fellow kids. The war children, in particular, gravitate toward her - they can't help it, she's a Trung, she's an earthbender, she's steady as stone, she's determined and smart and good at giving directions, and with her yellow-green eyes and too-angled face she looks as different as they do.
Their generation is a disjointed mess of unwanted halfbreeds with traumatized parents all operating at various levels of messed-up, and it's not uncommon for tempers to flare. Hoang has learned from her mother and great-aunt the importance of a unified front, and she applies those lessons with due diligence to her cohorts. The Nanyuese community has enough problems coming at them from the outside; they don't need to be torn apart from the inside as well. Cadao grows up watching her corral their agemates and reconciling their differences, from Hien's recklessness to Liem's cleverness, from Yen's polite shyness to Antoan's constant abrasive grumpiness. She holds them all together, even when tensions run high, and they respect her for it.
Hoang Trung is Cadao's best friend, and he does think much of it as he grows older. She's a Trung, she's a university student, she's related to the Dai Li, she lives in the Upper Ring. Her mother is Captain Tien, her grandfather was General Chien, her great-aunt is Madam Phuong. She's so far out of his league. She could be friends with whoever she wants.
She is friends with whoever she wants.
Cadao is there for her when they are twelve and she tells him, "I told Zan I don't want to be Dai Li." Cadao barely knows how siblings work and definitely doesn't know how cousins work, but music has taught him how to listen.
Cadao is there for her when they are fourteen and she asks, glaring at her reflection in the square fountain, "Do you think I look too much like...do you think I'm ugly?" He chokes on the pho he's been slurping and blurts out that of course she's not ugly, she's actually very pretty, and then he turns red when he realizes what he said. She assumes it's from the near-choking and gives him a wry smile that he knows means she still envies his looks. That's alright - he envies her bending.
Cadao is there for her when they are sixteen and it's the day after some late-night Upper Ring gala and she's fuming about all the unsympathetic rich nobles who politely smile and mock her mother and insist that there's nothing they personally could do to help the Nanyuese community, and "Sometimes I just want to punch all those idiots in the face, Cadao, I want to shout that they're assholes and make them hurt, and I just...do you think that's...do you think that's a Fire thing?"
It's a stereotype amongst the Nanyuese community that war children have short tempers. Cadao shrugs and says, "I don't know. Why ask me?"
"I thought maybe you'd have some...insight," she says delicately. "Because of…" She shrugs. He shrugs back. They change the subject, because they're tired of wondering how much of them is unwelcome, and because Hoang knows how sensitive Cadao can be to this kind of talk.
Hoang Trung is Cadao's best friend, and she knows all his secrets.
Cadao has other friends. Most of them live in Little Nanyue, most of them he shares with Hoang. Nanyuese kids stick together, especially the halfbreed ones, but some of them he doesn't think he'd have bothered to get to know well without Hoang's influence. Hien and Liem might be like him, but Hien is brash and flares too often, and Liem is smart and studious, with a smoldering determination that had helped him pass the entrance exams for university. Cadao likes them well enough, but his own personality is quiet, hesitant to kindle up relationships.
When he was five he'd had a friend who lived across the hall. He and Ly were both early risers, and they'd play in the street together throwing rocks around, pretending to be earthbenders. Ly had been a funny kid, a little obnoxious but fun to hang out with. Mom and Dad hadn't minded him, though Ly had been shy around them. Cadao had rarely seen Ly's mother.
Ly didn't come outside one day, or the day after, or the day after that. Mom and Dad had sat Cadao down and explained that Ly wouldn't be able to play with him anymore, that Ly was gone like Cadao's older sisters and brother were gone. Mom had had Cadao help her make some bun bo, and they took it across the hall to give it to Ly's mother. Mom had handed over the pot and said, "I'm so sorry about your son."
Ly's mother had stared tiredly at the bun bo and then stared tiredly at Mom before finally saying, "It's alright." Taking the pot, she added, "It's done." She'd shot a quick look down at Cadao before closing her door. In the future, Cadao would look back on this moment and realize that she hadn't looked very sad, but at the time he'd only taken notice of Mom's hand on his shoulder, suddenly gripping him firmly. He'd looked up and seen Mom staring at the closed door, her dark eyes wide, brow furrowed, mouth twisted. Then she'd pulled Cadao firmly back into their own apartment, where he'd found himself wrapped in a tight, desperate hug, the kind Mom gave when she had bad dreams and wanted to make sure he was okay.
"We love you, you know that?" Mom said. "Your dad and I, we love you so, so much."
"I know," Cadao said, squirming a little.
Mom let him go, but she took his hands in hers. "We won't let anything happen to you," she said, "not even if you're a - you're our son." She squeezed his hands. "We won't."
Being a war child means knowing you were never wanted.
They all deal with it in different ways, some worse than others. Hien is bold and brash, always getting in and out of trouble. Liem drowns himself in books and studies his way into university. Yen stays shy and watches more than she speaks. Antoan joins up with the Dai Li and remains a grumpy asshole. Hoang learns how to stare unnervingly at nobles and how to become a leader. There are so many of them, and they try their best.
Cadao sticks to his music. He's painfully aware of how lucky he is, how lucky all war children who survived their childhood were - unlike Ly, dead and gone and mourned the bare minimum by his mother. Cadao is even lucky enough to have parents who love him, who chose to keep him, who haven't tried to smother him. Dad pointedly calls him son, the word an ingrained part of their relationship. When Mom has nightmares, it's Cadao she checks on, to make sure nothing bad has happened to him, too. They love him, and they make sure he knows that.
It still hurts to know you were born of violence. Even if Mom and Dad decided they wanted him in the end, it aches knowing what happened to them, what happened to his sisters and brother. Self-loathing is a feeling he's intimately familiar with.
One day his emotions are low enough that he isn't even able to meditate right, and he stares into the candles before him and asks Hoang why she even bothers to care about him. In response, she grabs his hands, looks him directly in the eyes, and says, "I'm just as much Earth as you are. You're just as much Fire as I am. Same with everyone else. None of this genetic purity nonsense. We're all Nanyuese."
He does his best not to despair after that. Hoang knows the importance of unity, and she will drag them all together and bind them in stone if she has to.
Cadao has an impressive collection of musical instruments, most of which he or his parents made themselves. He knows how to play all of them, from the strings of his đàn nguyệt to the pipes of his đing nǎm to the stones of the đàn đá. He plays at festivals and ceremonies and special occasions people hire him for, and everyone says he's gifted and that his parents should be proud. Cadao doesn't put much stock in gifts - he knows he's only good at music because he threw himself into it so wholeheartedly and devoted himself to learning it. He supposes his parents can be proud of that.
He shares his music with his friends, playing them melodies from a homeland they've never known. He teaches anyone who asks for whatever they're able to pay him, because they need to keep this knowledge alive somehow. He sometimes regrets teaching Hien - she's an enthusiastic percussionist and a fiend on the flute - but she likes the steadiness of the percussion rhythms and the breathing exercises that come with woodwinds.
Hoang opts to learn the đàn tranh, and Cadao teaches her how to pluck soothing melodies from the strings. She's an excellent student, and she pays well, usually in coin but also in food and tools and materials she thinks he could use. She also brings him information, but that's not payment - information is to be shared. Hoang teaches him how to read more than just the most common words, she shares every scrap of Nanyuese history she learns, she explains Ba Sing Se's infuriating politics in ways that don't fly completely over his head, she teaches him how to play pai sho. In secret, she brings him pages of writing copied out from red-bound books in the university library, and together they pore over the information, learning breathing and meditation exercises and trying to make sense of their generation's burden.
He has his realization when they're twenty and Hien goes and gets herself pregnant out of wedlock because she's reckless like that. Cadao groans and knocks his head against the wall when he hears, because of course Hien would. There's a whole kerfluffle for a few weeks as Hien's parents freak out and Hien's boyfriend hides and the neighbors tut and Hoang has an ongoing headache as she tries to soothe ruffled feathers and stamp out whispers of well with their heritage... Hien herself is unsurprisingly blasé about the whole thing and fixes it with a proposal and a hastily-arranged wedding, and while people say it's a shame that she wasn't properly courted she shrugs it off - she never would have had the patience for it. She does plan a feast, though - Hien has always been one for a good party.
Cadao plays his đàn nguyệt at the wedding dinner and dances with his friends and gives Hien exasperated congratulations that she laughs off and ends up on the roof with Hoang and a bottle of wine that they pass back and forth while listening to the festivities below. "You realize this doesn't mean she's gonna settle down," he says, handing her the bottle.
Hoang takes a swig and sighs, staring off across the sea of rooftops. "Yeah."
"I mean, maybe having a kid will force her to...I don't know."
She hands the bottle back to him. "I'll remind her to work on her meditation exercises."
"Yeah," he sighs.
"At least she and Bao are good," Hoang says, staring up at the stars. "I still can't see her settling down with anyone, but if she had to...well, I'm glad it's him."
There's something about her words and the way the moonlight falls on her face that gives Cadao pause, the bottle halfway to his lips. He stares at her for a moment, and it hits him that - well -
It's not that he's falling in love with her, not exactly. He's always loved her. But here and now, under the night sky and above a building full of wedding guests, it's making him think. She's always been there, has always been a part of his life. What would it be like if she wasn't?
He tries to imagine it, but all he manages is a feeling of emptiness.
Oh, he realizes as she turns toward him. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.
"You done with that?" she asks, gesturing at the bottle.
"Here," he says dazedly, handing it over. Hoang takes another sip and kicks her feet back and forth where they're hanging over the eaves. From below comes the sound of voices - someone's gone outside for a breath of fresh air, maybe some quiet from the party. Hoang leans over the edge before sitting back up, pulling her legs back onto the tiles. She shoots Cadao a mischievous grin before taking a pebble from one of the roof slates, and she flings it down below with all the accuracy of an earthbender raised by Dai Li. There's a yelp, and Hoang stifles her giggles with a hand, eyes shining in the moonlight.
He has no idea what to do next.
They're best friends. By all means this should be easy. But Cadao has spent his entire life cautiously, and he has no idea how to break that habit. He briefly considers going to Hien for help - surely a bit of her recklessness wouldn't go amiss right now - but he'd rather not deal with her inevitable mockery. Instead he banks up his emotions and lets them smolder for months while he tries to figure out what to do.
In the end, Hoang saves him the trouble. Hoang Trung is many things, and stupid isn't one of them.
They're looking over a book together, one Hoang had smuggled out from the university library. Books aren't supposed to leave the library and Cadao is fretting over the fact that Hoang's literally stolen one, but after years of under-the-table research Hoang is very familiar with the library's habits. This book comes from a long-neglected section of shelves lined with red books that few people have touched in nearly a hundred years, she promises. No one will notice if a single faded crimson volume is missing for a few days - just long enough for them to get through the time-consuming task of copying every last page of illustrated katas and all the diagrams, pictures, and instructions inside. Information is to be shared, and they need every scrap they can get.
Halfway through the job, during a lull in their casual conversation, Hoang suddenly says, "I know you like me."
She's timed it for when Cadao's graphite stick is not on the paper, thank goodness. "What?" he splutters. "I don't - I mean, no, of course I like you, but - what?"
"I know you like me," she repeats, smiling fondly at him. "I also know you're too nervous to do anything about it yet."
"Well - yeah," he admits, because she knows him, and he knows himself, and it's true.
"So for the record," she continues, her smile a touch nervous itself, "I want you to know that whenever you do ask...the answer is yes."
Cadao blinks at her. "Yes?"
"Yes," she nods. "I figure if I take some of the uncertainty out of it, well, it might...do you feel better?"
"Very," he says. It's a weight off, knowing that she feels the same, knowing that even though he's working himself up about this, it won't be for naught.
She's still smiling. "Ask me whenever you're ready," she says.
"It might be a while," he admits.
"That's alright," she says, going back to the diagram she'd been copying. "I'll wait."
Nanyue is ashes and bones, but its people have survived and their customs have survived, and if Cadao is going to court Phuong-Hoang Trung, he is going to do it right. There's no other option, really. Hoang is a Trung, a leader beloved by the entire Nanyuese community. Proper is the only way to do it.
Thanh Minh is coming up in a few months - Qingming, as the rest of Ba Sing Se calls it. The holiday is mainly a remembrance of the dead, but it's also a traditional time for lovers. Cadao supposes if there was ever a good time to kindle a romantic relationship, that would be it.
A few days after his talk with Hoang, Cadao wakes up as early as ever and begins heating up water for tea. He's an early riser - always has been - but he doesn't mind as much as he did when he was a kid and constantly waking up long before his parents. If nothing else now it allows him to get breakfast started.
Dad comes into the kitchen just as Cadao is pouring the hot water over the artichoke flowers. Mom prefers the bitter tea made from the stems more, but Cadao and Dad share a sweet tooth - a fact that makes Cadao feel warm inside, despite the fact he knows it's not genetic. Dad takes the cup Cadao offers him with a smile and a quiet "Good morning," and for a moment they sit in silence, enjoying the sounds of the birds singing as the sun rises in the sky.
Eventually, Cadao says, "Dad, I need your advice."
"Is it your đàn nguyệt?" Dad asks. "Because I heard you practicing last night and yes, I think it needs to be retuned."
"No, it's not - okay, yes, you're right about that, but that's not what I need advice with."
"Oh?" Dad asks, sipping his tea. "What's up, son?"
Cadao stokes his courage and, before he can change his mind about the whole thing, asks, "What was it like courting Mom?"
Dad pauses, the teacup at his lips. Cadao tries not to fidget. Aside from music, Mom and Dad don't talk much about their past - remembering Nanyue hurts. Remembering their dead children hurts. Remembering the lives they'd actually wanted hurts. Cadao had learned this at a young age, and he never asks.
He can see the hurt in Dad's eyes now, but it's being overtaken by delighted realization. "Why do you want to know?"
Cadao lets himself fiddle with his teacup. "I need to know so I don't screw it up."
"Really!" Dad says, the ecstatic look on his face chasing away any leftover tiredness or remembered pain.
"And I hardly know anything," Cadao adds.
"We'll fix that," Dad promises. "Who's the lucky person?"
"Hoang."
"Trung?"
"Do you know any other Hoangs?"
Dad just grins through his shock. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he says, a little dazedly. "You two have been inseparable since diapers. Oh, I should put that in my speech."
"Dad."
"You're right, the wedding's a long time off, I have a lot of time to plan that. Okay. My boy wants to court a Trung. Alright then." He sips his tea. "You know you need to meet her family and ask permission, right?"
"I've met the Captain," Cadao begins.
"Formal introduction to the entire family, son."
Cadao blanches. "Oh, spirits, I'm going to have to meet the Dai Li, aren't I?" He's seen Hoang's relatives at festivals and he's heard her talk about them often, but he doesn't actually know them.
"You sure can pick 'em," Dad commiserates. "But first, the big question - have you asked Hoang?"
"Not exactly," Cadao says. "But I know she feels the same way."
"A Trung is in love with my boy," Dad says. "Never in a million years did I think I'd say that."
On Thanh Minh Cadao rises with the sun and rouses his parents as they'd asked him to, and together they take extra care of the family shrine. They have no graves they can tend, but they can still make offerings here. Mom and Dad do most of the work, and Cadao lets them. Thanh Minh is for remembrance, and he can't remember the sisters and brother he never met. The rituals are cathartic; Cadao isn't the one who needs them. He helps his parents as needed, handing them flowers and food when asked and only pausing when Mom asks him to light the incense because - well. He isn't really sure if that's respectful.
Mom looks at his face and gives him a gentle smile. "They would love you, Cadao," she says. "Just light the sticks."
He leaves Mom and Dad kneeling before the shrine with the incense burning, looking so despondent that he very nearly decides to stay with them instead - but they brush aside his worries and insist he go out. "We'll be along in a while, don't you worry," Dad says, "we just need to…" He gestures vaguely at the shrine. "Besides, son, don't you have plans?"
"Yeah," Cadao says. Hoang should be in Little Nanyue soon, along with the Captain and Madam Trung. They make a point of coming every Thanh Minh. "Yeah, I - okay, if you're sure."
Mom gives him a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Go get me a potential future daughter-in-law," she orders.
Cadao laughs nervously. "Okay," he says. His eyes flicker to the shrine, to the tablets engraved with his sibling's names. His gaze sweeps over them for a moment, Hung and Nguyet, Thanh and Phuc, and he prays, Grant me courage.
He heads down to the fountain square, where most of Little Nanyue has already turned out. Spring outings are a Qingming and Thanh Minh tradition, and back in the homeland they might have gone out for a walk in the fields or forest - Cadao has no idea what that might be like, he's lived his entire life in the Lower Ring and he has a hard time imagining more than a cluster of trees, let alone endless open spaces. Here in the Lower Ring there isn't much nature to be enjoyed. There's still some - greenery growing in undisturbed cracks, flowers spilling over windowboxes and rooftop gardens, not to mention the many blooms brought in by vendors selling them for the holiday. Most are the ever-popular chrysanthemum, but Cadao finds one stall selling hydrangeas and, after a bit of deliberation, purchases a single cluster of pink flowers at the end of a long stem. He may not be educated, but Hoang's information sharing over the years has left him with some knowledge of flower symbolism. Hydrangeas aren't meant to be a romantic flower - orchids would be a better choice, really - but hopefully the pinkness would make up for that.
He heads over to the fountain, flower in hand. Hoang isn't there yet, but Hien is, her toddler son in her arms and her mother a few feet away, chatting with friends. Hien gives Cadao a jaunty grin when she sees him and a curious look at the flower. He ignores the latter as he sits down beside her at the fountain's edge, and they make small talk until Hien suddenly shouts "Hey, Hoang, over here!"
Cadao looks up to see Hoang coming towards them, her mother and great-aunt not far behind. Hien's mother is already moving towards the Captain, greeting her with a quick salute followed by a long hug. Hien stands up to welcome Hoang, who's already cooing over the baby.
"He's gotten so big since I last saw him!"
"You saw him three days ago," Hien snorts.
"Look at those chipmunk-chinchilla cheeks!"
Cadao waits a moment for them to finish greeting each other before he pushes himself up from the fountain. Hoang turns to smile brightly at him. "Hello, Cadao."
"Hello, Hoang," he says.
She looks at the flower in his hand. "What's that for?"
"Yeah, Cadao," Hien says, bouncing her son on her hip, "what is that for?"
Cadao takes a breath. "Hien," he says, "would you mind leaving us alone for a bit?"
Hoang blinks; Hien shrieks. "Seriously?! Oh my spirits yes!" She hustles off with her confused son before Cadao can even groan.
"Cadao…?" Hoang asks.
"So," he says, twirling the flower in his hands. "Um. I thought I knew what I was going to say, but it turns out I have no idea at all." He holds out the flower. "This is for you."
Hoang takes it with wonderment. "Hydrangeas?" she asks, sniffing them.
"They're pink."
"Why hydrangeas? You don't have to apologize for anything."
"For making you wait," he says, taking her hands in his. "And for...well. I don't know how easy this will be. You're you and I'm me, and…" He shrugs. "I wanted to thank you for understanding."
"I've known you all my life," she says, her yellow-green eyes smiling. "I understand perfectly."
He smiles back at her, and tries to think of what to say next.
Hoang speaks before he can. "Don't be nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Cadao protests.
She tilts her head, still smiling. "Cadao," she says gently, flexing her fingers in his hands, "you're very warm."
His body freezes for a moment, just to be contrary. But he feels it now, how cool her hands are in his, the heat rising from his skin. "...Oh," he says. "Whoops."
"Breathe," she reminds him. "Remember, it's all in your breath."
Cadao is already on it, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Hoang's hands remain entwined with his, beyond all reason, and she breathes with him, holding his gaze steady with her own. Ever so slowly, he feels the heat dissipate, until his skin is just a little warmer than hers.
"Okay," he says. "Why am I nervous? I already know your answer."
"It's alright," she says. "I'm excited!"
"Me too," he says, and he straightens and gives her an earnest look. "Phuong-Hoang Trung," he says, "may I ask your permission to court you?"
"You have it!" she says, jumping up and down in place, and they both laugh. "Yes, yes, yes you can! Come on," she adds, pulling him away, "let's go ask Mom too."
"Okay!" he says, allowing himself to be pulled. "What about the rest of your family?"
"I can formally introduce you to Uncle Quy and the rest later," she says. "For the purposes of courtship, my mother and my great-aunt are the only ones whose permission you really need."
The Captain and Madam Trung look up from the food they're being offered as Hoang and Cadao approach. The Captain looks tired and sad, but she manages a wan smile when she sees them. "Ah, hello Cadao," she says. "How are your parents?"
"They're alright, ma'am, thank you for asking," he says. Hoang nudges him in her excitement, and he exchanges a grin with her before clearing his throat nervously. "Actually, Captain Trung, I - I have a request."
"What is it?" she asks immediately, ever willing to help a fellow Nanyuese person in need.
Cadao takes a steady breath, looks from the Captain to Madam Trung and back, and says, "I would like your permission to court Hoang."
The Captain stares at him. So does Madam Trung, whose mouth has dropped open ever-so-slightly. "Hoang?" she asks, looking at her great-niece.
Hoang is grinning. "I said yes. Mom, Aunt Phuong?"
"Permission granted," the Captain says. "Of course it's granted, it's - spirits, this is the best conversation I've had all day." She looks like she might cry, but she's smiling. Beside her, Madam Trung is looking Cadao up and down with a critical eye, but after a moment she nods.
"I've heard your music," she says, "and I know your parents. You're a fine, upstanding boy. It'd be a joy for you to court my great-niece." Pointing a bony finger at him, she adds, "But you'd best do it properly!"
"I plan to, ma'am," Cadao says. He wonders if she'd be willing to give him tips on how to do it properly. Dad's advice is already coming in handy, but Dad is a peasant from a small highland village that'd been surviving in the midst of war, and Madam Trung is a high-ranked lady who'd grown up in relative peacetime. Cadao is pretty sure she'll have much more exacting standards. "Thank you," he adds, bowing to each of them. "Thank you so much. I'm really looking forward to...to everything." You court your intended's family just as much as you court your intended. He's going to be related to Trungs. He really hopes they find him worthy.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" Hoang squeals, hugging first her mother and then her great-aunt. "I can't wait, I - Mama, are you okay if Cadao and I - ?"
"I'll be fine," the Captain smiles, squeezing Hoang's hand. "Go have fun, darling."
Hoang kisses her mother on the cheek, and then she's dragging Cadao back toward the fountain, over dusty cobblestones and past curious onlookers. "I'm so excited!" she shouts.
"I am too!" he laughs, yanking his arm from her grasp and running alongside her.
"We need to tell everyone!"
"We do!"
"When's our first date?"
"We'll figure that out!"
Hien is already waiting for them by the fountain, a gaggle of their friends around her. She's clearly assembled them herself and informed them of the situation, judging from the looks on everyone's faces.
"Congratulations!" Hien shouts before even bothering to confirm that all went well.
"I'm assuming everyone said yes?" Bao asks, holding his son.
"Yes," Hoang and Cadao say together, and everyone crowds around them to offer congratulations and well-wishes.
Hien pushes her way through to hook an arm around Hoang's neck and crow, "Well it's about time! And now you two are gonna take forever getting to the actual marriage part, aren't you?"
"It's tradition!" Hoang giggles. "We can't all be rebels!"
"As long as you get married before I'm old and gray!"
Hoang laughs and takes Cadao's hand in her own, and he smiles at her. Around him he hears Bao laughing and Liem offering congratulations and Hien shouting that if Hoang's so set on being traditional then they should start with a traditional group of friends hangout date that she is invited to, but all he sees are Hoang's yellow-green eyes, bright and happy as they meet his own dark brown ones. I can do this, he thinks. I can court Hoang Trung. He's always been a cautious person, but today he finally threw a bit of that caution to the wind, and it feels amazing. Tomorrow he'll probably be nervous again - by tomorrow everyone in Little Nanyue will have heard that Hoang Trung is being courted by Cadao the musician, Hoang's Dai Li relatives will know, and that sense of self-doubt that's forever lurking in the back of Cadao's mind will have finally caught up with him - but for now he's going to enjoy this feeling, he's going to make plans for the future, he's going to tell his parents the good news when they finally come to the square. He's going to marry the girl he's grown up loving, the girl who grew up loving him despite his caution, despite his anxiety, despite knowing about him.
There are no secrets between them, and she's still wholeheartedly agreed to it. Any misgivings Cadao might have about himself at this point are better left unsaid.
So...did you catch it? ;D
And so my worldbuilding thickens! Please leave a review if you enjoyed this! Especially if you got what I'm alluding to, no need to keep it a secret on the reviews page, feel free to shout it out.
I played around with this concept for a while before I decided to commit to it. I've established that war children are a thing in the Nanyuese population - I felt it'd be remiss if I didn't follow that idea through to the logical conclusion on what those genetics might entail. This story can be taken as canon or as part of Gilded Green, and in the GG'verse it will indeed eventually become a plot point - but it's going to be a very slow burn, if you'll pardon the pun. :P
As I noted in Bright and Bitter, Pure and Sweet, hydrangeas have a lot of different meanings depending on the time period and place, but the color pink generally means romantic love, in some parts of Asia (Japan, at least) the flower can be used to convey apologies, and a general meaning for the plant could be "thank you for understanding."
All the musical instruments named in this fic are Vietnamese. I've kept the special character spellings - it should make it easier for the curious to copy/paste and google them, and also I think it helps better distinguish the instruments' names for the reader. Now I'm tempted to keep the special characters in all the Vietnamese-named characters' names, too, but I'll refrain from doing that.
Speaking of names...
Cadao - folksong
Phuong-Hoang/Hoang - phoenix
Hien - gentle, quiet
Bao - protection, security
Liem - clean, honest, upright
Yen - calm, peaceful
Antoan - safe, secure
You can find me on tumblr at gilded-green! I'll probably be posting a lot of Vietnamese musical instrument vids now that I've written this.