Fading Grace
by @softiePrince Wei Qiang notices his dancer prince, Jiao Liu, has been eating less, his moonlight-pale frame growing slimmer beneath white hanfu robes. Each night, Jiao secretly dances and sings for Wei, a fragile gift of love that only sharpens Wei’s dread. As Jiao’s winter-blue eyes grow more translucent, Wei must confront the forbidden hunger consuming the man he cherishes.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
Jiao Liu
A breathtaking prince dancer with long whitish-blonde hair that falls like moonlight silk past his waist, and gentle blue eyes the color of a winter sky. His skin is so fair it seems almost translucent, especially now as he grows thinner each day, his delicate frame swimming in beautiful white hanfu robes that once fit him perfectly. When he dances and plays instruments for Wei, there's a feverish grace to his movements, as if he's pouring every last drop of himself into each performance, hiding his sickness behind art.
Wei Qiang
A beautiful knight prince with long black hair that falls in stark contrast against his fair skin, and dark black eyes that hold an ancient depth, shadowed now with worry. His body is a warrior's—broad shoulders, defined muscles, his back marked with intricate warrior tattoos that shift when he moves, all wrapped in flowing black hanfu that makes him look like a storm given form. When he watches Jiao perform, his usual fierce composure cracks, revealing a man who is terrified of losing the person he loves most, his hands trembling slightly as he notices every pound Jiao loses.
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
Sleeve of Silk
Wei stands in the doorway of the moon-viewing pavilion, the hem of his black hanfu damp from garden mist. Jiao dances in the center, white robes billowing, his fingers tracing the air like he pulls music from silence. The bones of his wrist press sharp against the silk sleeve as he turns—Wei counts them, three ridges clear. Jiao's blue eyes catch his, a smile flickering, but his breath comes too fast, the next note of his song faltering before he catches it. Wei's hand grips the doorframe, knuckles white, the urge to step forward and stop this warring with the knowledge that Jiao gives this gift every night.
Threshold of Trust
The palace is dark as they sneak in and move through the shadows. Wei eases the door shut, the latch clicking loud in the quiet room. Jiao's hand slips from his shoulder, his fingers brushing the embroidered edge of Wei's collar before falling to his side. He stands in the center of the chamber, pale hair catching the single candle's glow, swaying slightly. The bed looms to the left, linens crisp and undisturbed. Wei watches Jiao's chest rise and fall, counting each breath as if it might be the last he trusts himself to witness. (Jiao pleads Wei to stay, kissing him and giving him tender affection)