XiCheng: The Last Lotus [AU- OMEGAVERSE]

46

And Yu Ziyuan has always promised herself never to outlive her children.

Jiang Cheng hated the color red.

Red was for the poppies. The bright flecks of color on a hot summer's day. Red was for the watermelons. The fresh fruit served after a full day spent in the water. Red was for the chilies. The spicy patches of scarlet streaked across every dish.

Red was for the Wen's. The sea of crimson robes and sun-kissed banners that streamed past the gates of Lotus Pier.

Red was for the fire. The towering flames and blazing infernos that ravaged through everything in its path.

Red.

Red for Wei Wuxian. The streak of burgundy that flashed through the crowd- the ends of his ribbon fluttering in the wind. Red for the passion and adventure his brother had spent his whole life trying to find- the ardor and lust that filled the air. Red for the demonic cultivator's aggression and hostility- the frenzied urge for violence pumping in his veins. Red for all the blood and carnage Yiling's Patriarch left behind- the bodies that piled up on the streets.

Red.

Red has always been a color Jiang Cheng had found comfort in. In the warm glow of the hearth, in the crooked smiles of his brother. He had found a strange kind of solace.

It comforted him- the knowledge of Wei Wuxian's steady presence always by his side.

So for the longest time- Jiang Cheng loved the color red. He loved it in the soft blushes that lit up Lan Xichen's face, softening the First Jade's regal features. He loved it in the way Shijie's wedding robes had caught the light- the ruby red of her gown beautiful and sparkling. He loved it in the whispered promises of devotion- in the tender glint of mahogany eyes.

Because red?

Red was the color of love. It was intimacy and endearment- all wrapped up in the heady light of forever.

And Jiang Cheng? Jiang Cheng has always loved. He knows how to love. To love and love and love.

He knows red. Knows it like the back of his own hand.

He knows how easy it is to get lost in the feeling. To succumb to the fervor and heat that buzzed intensely under his skin. He understands what it's like to drown in it. To see smoke and flames rise high in the air in morbid symphony.

He knows red.

He knows it and he hates it.

He especially hates it on days like this. When his whole world blurred shades of fiery red. When his eyes flashed with scarlet sheen. When his vision darkened, blackening as the fires consumed him.

He hates it.

Hates it because he knows he can't control it.

He can't control the rage that burns him, the fury that suffocates him- drowning him in an ocean of hate. He can't control the madness that threatens to overtake him, the feeling of total insanity that sparks to life inside him. 

He can't control it.

He knows he can't.

So he does the best he can.

And he isolates himself.

It was in the aftermath of Burial Mounds- that Jiang Cheng felt the same tidal wave of emotion clouding his mind, the same tints of crimson creeping up the corners of his vision. And it terrified him. It terrified him because it had felt so easy to give in to the bloodlust roaring through his veins.