一百二

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One Hundred Two
Updated: December 12, 2023

When he arrived back in his room and closed the door behind him, he collapsed onto the floor, flat on his stomach in the middle of his room.

Passed away...

His father had passed away....

So soon...

The ground felt cold against his already frozen cheek from the outside breeze; the cold sting shooting through his body and numbing every limb to the very tips of his fingers. His legs were tired, shaking subtly with fatigue, yet he seemed to be blind to it all. It was uncomfortable lying on the hard surface, but he didn't have the energy to move even an inch, almost as if his entire body felt as if a heavy stone was crushing him, pinning him on the ground, and weighing him down.

He... his father was healthy when Renjun last saw him... wasn't he? How... how come so suddenly... he's... he's gone?

Wasn't it just yesterday that he was scolding him for calling him 'dad' instead of 'father' in front of members of the court? He remembered seeing his father with a handful of court officials and running up to him calling 'daddy' affectionately. He remembered his father's embarrassed face as he picked him up into his arm, pinching his pink cheeks playfully as he scolded him. He remembered the first time he was learning to write, sitting on his father's lap with a small chubby hand gripping a pen brush that was much too large for him. He remembered how his father encouraged him, how happy his father was when he produced a barely legible 'Huang Renjun' on paper, and how his father proudly framed it for the whole world to see. He remembered the first time he was learning to spar and fell painfully hard on his bottom. He remembered his father coming to him in a panic, picking him up and soothing him until he stopped crying.

[(Note) In Chinese there are many ways to refer to "father", especially in the ancient days and a lot of C-dramas set during these periods. One way is 爹爹 (diēdiē) or 爹 (diē), and another is 父皇 (fù huáng). The former is less formal and is seen a lot among non-imperial children to their own fathers. The latter is an extremely formal way where children of the emperor will refer to their father and it literally translates to "father emperor".

爹爹 is much more informal and is very similar to "daddy" (non-sexually of course, you horny motherfuckers). This form of address is more common among female characters and children in C-dramas, while 爹 is common among both genders and ages.

In this story, "dad" will refer to the 爹 version of address while "father" will refer to 父皇.]

It... it was all just yesterday, wasn't it?

When he finally held his father's hand after a decade. When he held his mother's hand. Renjun remembered seeing their faces, how happy they were, how excited they were. He remembered seeing them cry as they gently stroked his hand, quietly praying and thanking the Heavens. He remembered that night when they had dinner together, remembered Jeno and Jaemin sitting beside him, and remembered the smiles on his parents' faces, on his father's face. His father was still crying from earlier that day and hadden stopped until after the dinner. They had spoken about everything, laughed at jokes, and gossiped about people.

Then... almost eight months went by, and Renjun hadn't seen his father since.

Not a word was exchanged between them, not a friendly spar, not a smile in these eight months, yet Renjun missed his father as much as the moon missed the sun. He wanted to see that proud beaming smile, those kind yet fatigued eyes during the busy months, those streaks of white hair that sprouted every few weeks, and those kind calloused hands that once rubbed his head. He missed the warmth of his father's voice and the overpowering presence that made him feel at ease. He missed listening to his father's scoldings, missed the way he had a hard time raising his voice at him, missed the way he playfully teased his mother, and missed the way his face would turn red when he was upset.

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