BLUE MOON

Feeling anxious at 7 in the morning shouldn’t be allowed. Yixing almost beat himself for feeling that way. Anxiety wasn’t meant to be part of his feelings. In fact, he was meant to avoid feelings and emotions whatsoever.

He was born heir to one of the most important families in China. He had been raised to keep himself at bay and not give away what was going inside his head. He had a reputation to maintain; a family’s name to take care of—yet it didn’t stop him from feeling anxious at the moment.

He had grown up knowing his duties; his responsibilities. Knowing what was expected from him. And making sure his surname wouldn’t die with him was part of it.

He had got away with it for 27 years, and he had thought he would be able to keep it at least until he was 30. He was young. He had a long life ahead. He could look for that obligatory stability later, when his youth began to vanish. His parents, however, didn’t share his train of thoughts, and they had been clear about it.

Their conditions were irrefutable. She—of course it had to be a she—must be from a well-known and respectable family. There was no way he would mix his blood with some unworthy woman. And unless he wanted them to take the matter into their own hands, he had maximum a year to do it himself.

“Search and select, Yixing. Then let us know your decision to make the pertinent arrangements.”

He had been sitting at his father’s office back then, trying to stay composed, just as he had been taught. Hundreds of thoughts had crossed his mind, but he hadn’t let them out. He had restricted himself to nod and pretend he was accepting every single requirement.

Yixing had delayed it as long as it was possible. He knew his life was a book and his parents were the authors, but he had wanted to enjoy his freedom as much as he could. Some things were unavoidable, though, and he had run out of time. That was why he was sitting at his father’s office again, waiting for the final blow to come.

“So, Yixing,” his father said after the required pleasantries were exchanged. “Do you remember the task your mother and I had assigned to you a year ago?”

Yixing almost rolled his eyes. Why did he have to talk as if they had asked him to do the dishes or take out the trash? Not that they had ever asked him to do those things, but it shouldn’t sound very different, he guessed.

“Yes, father. I do remember."

“And could you please tell me what your results were?”

There was where the anxiety was coming from. He wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted because there were no results. He wasn’t going to tell him he hadn’t even tried to 'search and select' because he was in the least interested in expanding the Zhang legacy. He didn’t need to find someone to spend the rest of his life with, because it had been years since he had found that person—but he wasn’t going to tell him that, either.

“Unfortunately, I have no results, father. I did not find anyone.”

The way his father hummed in response unsettled him. It was as though he had known that would be his answer, and Yixing didn’t know whether he should be offended or not.

“Very well, then,” the man said. “Your mother and I had expected you to act on your own, but of course we still had to take our own measures. We have already discussed this with Mr. and Mrs. Song and they accepted a marriage between you and their daughter, Qian. She is a respectable lady, with values and a good reputation, and your mother likes her.”

Hearing this didn’t surprise Yixing. The Song family was the most influential in Shandong and this would definitely expand his family’s influence to that side of the country. There was no doubt why they had chosen her.

As for him, Yixing didn’t have an opinion about her. He had barely interacted with her, so there was no point in trying to take a shot about how being married with her would be. If he ignored the fact that she was older than him—therefore would expect more from him—and that she was… well, a girl, maybe he would be able to come to terms with it. Eventually.

“She was the best candidate out there,” his father continued, taking the newspaper on his desk. “We have already signed the contract and we are expecting to get a splendid outcome from this.”

ing life, there was a contract.

Knowing his parents, this meant they had already booked a date and it was just a matter of time before the congratulatory messages began to arrive. The countdown to the end of his freedom had begun and he hadn’t even known when that had exactly happened.

It wasn’t as if it mattered, anyway. He knew how his world worked. How everything was about reputation, status, money and power. Marriages existed because of that. In his world, there was no place for banal things like human feelings or wishes. You did what you were supposed to do without questioning it. Then hoped to live long enough to see the result in the form of a large number of zeros in your bank account. Happiness be damned.

“The engagement party will be next month; one week after our bimestrial meeting. This way, even the international committee will know and celebrate this great news with us.”

His father didn’t look away from his newspaper, so he didn’t see the way Yixing winced. Reading was apparently more interesting than talking about his son’s future. He mentioned other things about a suit, decorations and music; about talking to his mother about that stuff and meeting Qian. But Yixing didn’t listen. His focus was on the international committee. Was it really necessary to have them at the party? He didn’t want them there. There was no way he would be able to throw all that circus if they were present.

“Are you listening, Yixing?”

“Yes, father.”

“Good.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “That is it for now, then. You can leave, son.”

“Thank you.” Yixing stood up and bowed. “If you will excuse me.”

He straightened his jacket and walked out the office. Once far away from that room, he took out his phone and sent a text. He didn’t even bother to reply the good morning messages. It wasn’t important anymore.

Yixing //   07:21 a.m.

They did it

It was simple.

It was short.

There was no need to explain it any further.

He would get it.

What was going to happen now was beyond him, but he didn’t want to think about it. There was no point, anyway.

Yixing //   07:21 a.m.

You’ve got the honor to be the first person I invite to my engagement party next month

There was a part of Yixing that wanted to walk into that conference room and get it over with, but there was another part of him—a significant one—that wanted to puke and run away.

He was pacing around in the toilet, neglecting his responsibilities. He was supposed to have walked inside those doors about ten minutes ago, but he didn’t care. He had to put his together first.

Being there would make it all official, and even though he had had a month to prepare himself, he still wasn’t ready. Letting all those men know about his engagement was a mere formality, but still. It was too much to handle at once.

A knock on the door startled him.

“Young Yixing? Is everything alright?”

Yixing stared at his reflection in the mirror and breathed in. He ran his fingers through his disheveled fringe, trying to make it look decent.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Yang,” he said, smiling slightly when he opened the door. “Everything’s fine.”

His father’s assistant looked particularly unconvinced, but she nodded, nonetheless. “Everyone’s already at the conference room. They’re just waiting for you.”

Yixing smiled once again and gently placed a hand on her arm as he passed her. “Thank you, Mrs. Yang.”

As he walked to the conference room, he told himself he had nothing to worry about. The plan was not to look at anyone once he entered, and if he followed it, he would be just fine—he had to be fine. There was no time to freak out now. That wouldn’t change anything, so he might as well face it and move on.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, trying to collect himself a bit more. He held the doorknob, took two deep breaths, walked in and goddammit.

his plan.

Because he was weak. He was scared. He was stressed. And he needed to hold onto the only real thing he had in that room.

Yixing scanned the place and when his eyes landed on his target, his heart pounded against his ribcage like a madman. He was greeted by an almost imperceptible smirk and a mocking shake of the head, so subtle that hadn’t he been looking, would’ve it gone unnoticed.

“Where have you been, Yixing? Please come sit down.”

“Sorry for the delay, father,” he said, walking toward his seat, at his father’s right. “Gentlemen.”

He bowed and avoided looking anywhere other than the desk. He couldn’t afford such a thing. Not again. He had to follow his plan. Because a single look and he would end up reaching him and sitting on his lap and kissing the life out of him, and burying himself in his arms and asking him to never let him go, and that wasn’t a good idea.

That was why feelings weren’t allowed, now he understood.

“Dear gentlemen,” his father started, bringing him back to Earth. Yixing reluctantly looked at him. “Before we proceed with our meeting, I have something to communicate to you. My son here”—he placed a hand on Yixing’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze—“is finally getting married.”

Yixing forced a smile on his face as everyone congratulated him.

He drifted his eyes back to his right and almost flinched when they connected with Sehun’s. He stared at him and there was no longer any sign of a smirk or mischief. The emotionless mask had gone back to its place.

Sehun nodded once, as a sign of congratulatory message and Yixing snorted. He dissimulated it with a cough.

“Who is the fortunate woman, Zhang?” Mr. Huang asked.

“A good woman, that is for sure,” Yixing’s father said. “We are joining ventures with the Songs. Their daughter, Qian, will be the one to give me good, strong grandchildren. Just as every Zhang should be.”

Yixing was looking at Sehun again, so he didn’t miss the way he raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. As if he hadn’t got that information from Yixing himself a month ago.

Sehun surely felt his stare because he stared back and pursed his mouth in a way that Yixing could almost assure meant, 'Yeah, she's a good one. I approve her.'

“You are all invited to their engagement party next week at our house. This is an important event for our family, and it will be our pleasure to have you all with us.” The man patted Yixing’s shoulder and then let go. He was proud. Yixing not so much. “I will have my assistant send you the invitations. Now let us start with our meeting, shall we?”

Without further ado, the conversation changed and everyone got to speak about taxes, production lines and marketing; about the development in the Chinese, Korean, Japanese and Thai plants. And just like that, his engagement was left behind.

Yixing let himself relax, then. He put his blank face again and fell into his so-used meetings routine—where he would pay attention to the Zhang’s Co. status and once in a while would drift his eyes to Sehun. Where Sehun would look at him as well, knowing smiles would be exchanged, and dissimulated stare contests would be held. Where the pressure of continuing their families’ legacy would be completely forgotten for a moment. Because every time they would look at each other, the world would fade away and it would be just the two of them against everybody else.

"Yixing, hurry up, dear."

Jogging all his way down the hall, Yixing reached his mother and smiled softly at her.

“Sorry, I was checking a report.”

The woman shook her head but there was a ghost of a smile. “It’s a Zhang thing to be always so attached to their jobs, I see.”

She helped him pick the nonexistent fluff off his jacket suit and arranged his tie. Yixing knew it was an act of nervousness and he almost felt sorry for her.

The engagement parties they were so used to had always been an important issue. They had to be perfect, lest you wanted society to judge and speak negatively about you. Damaging your reputation; dirtying your name— no. Not your name, but your family’s name. The way the night would end would confirm—or discredit—the amount of power that the families of the engaged couple had, and by no means did they want to damage the Zhang surname—or even the Song one. Maybe. Yixing wasn’t sure.

Of course his mother was nervous, but if he was honest, he didn’t give a damn. He just wanted the night to end so he could go back to his apartment and maybe hope to find Sehun there.

“All our guests are already in the garden. Qian is waiting for you in the living room.” She cupped Yixing’s face with one hand and looked at him with watery eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, dear.”

Yixing tried to smile, but he was sure it had come out more like a grimace. His mother didn’t say anything about it, though. She returned the smile and leaned over to hug him.

At that moment, he wanted to tell her everything that was bugging his mind. To talk about his fears, his insecurities. About the things he liked and the ones he hated. He wanted to confess that he didn’t want to marry Qian and explain why. Let her know that he was already happy and that what they were doing would only ruin his life.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t do that to her.

So he simply hugged her back and placed a soft kiss on her temples.

Once his mother let go, she told him she would wait outside and hurried him toward the living room.

There he found Qian. She was wearing that lace dress off-the-shoulder she had bought two weeks ago, at one of their ‘get to know each other’ meetings. She had asked for his opinion and he had said that she would look gorgeous in it—and he hadn't been wrong. She looked pretty. She was pretty. It was just a shame that she was nothing close to be Yixing’s type.

“Are you ready?” he asked once Qian was next to him.

“I’m nervous,” she said. “We’re finally doing this. I can’t believe it.”

The first time they met, Qian had confessed that she was excited for their wedding and that she really hoped they could make it work. She had assured him that he had nothing to worry about, because they would be an exceptionally perfect couple and that by itself was enough reason to feel better about the speed at which they were going—Yixing didn't agree but he let her be.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he had also heard her telling her best friend on the phone that she had found him 'painfully handsome' and that it was like a dream to be the first of their group of friends to marry 'a perfect god'—he had made sure to cringe at that. And he repeated it later that night every time Sehun called him like that on the phone. That, after having laughed at him for 10 damn minutes.

Yixing could already hear in the distance the clattering of glasses, the soft murmur of people’s voices, and the elegant music that the quartet was playing.

He let a silent breath escape his mouth and smiled, offering his arm. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

They made their way toward