THE DREAMER'S LAMENT

02. Wǔ

For millions of decades, Yueliang had always lived in himself.

No, forgive me – he'd always lived in the moon.

Well, more precisely, Yueliang had two forms: his constant form the moon, and his alternate form the human, for whenever he wanted – not needed, for moons do not rest. His house, was the glowing celestial orb, which was himself as well.

His favourite thing to do was to stride the world of men, radiating in his preternatural beauty. Though, to be honest, he did not enjoy the humans falling to their knees and kissing the ground he'd stepped on. The reverence in their eyes was a hungry kind. It set his stomach curdling and his heart disturbed, so he took more careful paths to visit the mortal world. One thing was clear: Yueliang was neither a god or an angel. He was simply another gathering of particle and matter in the cosmos.

And it was simply another stroll through a quaint village not far from where his original self was residing in the sky.

The hundred torches guarding the narrow soil roads burned amber against the lingering mist. There was an excited murmur rising into the air. A fit of giggles among the bent heads of women, young and old. Rumbling laughter rippled through the silence as hard-backed men trudged back to their meek houses. Axes, picks and scythes propped on their thick-knotted shoulders.

Yueliang had often admired mortals for their determination. Their wound-up courage to face another day, no matter how each passing one came hard and cold and bitter. At the thought of fighting time and fate, Yueliang frowned. His gaze fell to his chest. Where an ancient magic had begun to stir to take him.

The moon suddenly darkened, and seemed to drink light instead of emit it.

And then, rose Ying Yue. The second moon. The little sister.

She appeared as though gathered from smoke and clouds, stardust and secrets. Always, she had been the phantom in comparison to her older brother. And since that tragic night, she had come every time Yueliang lost his light.

Ying Yue's human form coalesced beside his. Her face was wide, soft, curving planes and a tender mouth which derived from their ancient mother. A thick braid of silver strands cascaded over her back, reaching her large-boned hips.

Many humans' whispers had been caught in Yueliang's ear of his sister's woman figure when she'd let slip a sight of her. "Not much of a beauty," they'd said, "but the moon-goddess captures the eye."

"You should not be here, brother," scolded Ying Yue. Her silver brows knitted close, concerned. "If you keep visiting the human world, you know what the Celeste will do to you."

Yueliang replied promptly, "They are going to take me whether or not I continue to visit."

Ying Yue dropped her gaze. Her long fingers fiddled with the tail of her braid. She clenched her hair. "Then you must spend your last days with your family." Her voice was strained with rage and frustration, a sob constricted in her throat. "What do you find here? There is nothing in the human world but selfishness and cruelty and pollution."

But it wasn't just that.

The human world was much more layered than the Celeste had assumed it. There was something the immortals had yet to understand, had yet to learn. Something transcendent and flawed at the same time. A thing which plucked at heartstrings, twisted fates and defied beliefs of others. The one with which one human gazed at another. That passed between clasped hands, warm embraces, and pressed lips. Something he had never been able to experience.

What was it the humans called?

Oh, yes.

That thing called love.