Curate, connect, and discover
The night drags on and yet, restless, Li Tianchen has found no sleep. Fresh emotional wounds haunt his mind. He rubs his eyes and frowns while scrolling further through his phone. His new phone. All ties were severed. He’s learned that life changes at a rate no one can prepare for. No one, except seemingly…
Tianchen lowers the screen and peers at his company. Liu Xiao. His childhood friend — perhaps the only friend he’s ever had — reads on the sofa opposite his chair, also awake. Tianchen doesn’t know what they both seem to be waiting for. Chances are, Liu Xiao has entirely different plans than he does with his fickle procrastination, anyway.
Setting his phone down on the armrest, Tianchen stares more prominently. Almost glaring. A moment passes; in a fit of impulse, he stands and moves to join Liu Xiao, side by side. Everything thereafter happens slowly, cautiously, like a stray animal’s approach. He leans closer so he can read the words on the page with a narrowed focus.
Is that… English? He recognizes bits and pieces, although his lessons were admittedly subpar. The way he snorts, amused, should let Liu Xiao know exactly what he wants to think of all this. Dorky. Weird. But despite that dismissal, he remains by Liu Xiao, trying to make sense of fragmented phrases. There must be a reason he is reading it, right?
❛ read . silently read a book alongside my muse . ( also hi, hello, you are no longer safe from me 🥺 )
a dispassionate read, if he’s ever seen any.
even if he’d waited, he doubted any interest beyond surface curiosity would maintain itself alight and sparkling in li tianchen’s mind. he imagined this is how it would be, from that moment where their paths merged and liu xiao’s space had soon been invaded by a surge of bright hues, contrasting his own dark shades. their opposing tastes regarding hobbies, the books they’d read, everything felt like a makeshift dreamland, and whoever’s dream this was, it certainly doesn’t feed liu xiao’s interest or keep li tianchen out of his boredom.
“it’s a retelling of Theseus myth. you’ve probably heard of it before.” he pauses for a second, turns to face him for the first time, eyes sharp and dark above the rim of his glasses. a look of confusion - or possibly judgement towards his book choice, tell him better than prying would of li tianche’s most sincere thoughts.
and liu xiau laughs, like sand over rocks, dry, throaty. he waits for no response, “well, just part of it. i find it fascinating, that regardless of his glory, an epic hero is still cast aside and into the underworld. isn’t it ironic? that one’s name lives on through the ages, though he’ll never know it while he’s conscious and breathing. they say madness and glory are more alike than we think.”
mirth, wry cynicism, as though he’d seen much of the world and found himself wanting it entirely. he tries to keep it at bay, dormant, because there are better uses for this kind enrapturing confidence. li tianchen’s interest is piqued, or so he believes. liu xiao pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, closes the book with a light tud, “it’s subjective, that’s what i’m trying to say. fame is poison, some drink it, unknowing or not. either way, it’s bitter stuff, is what i think.”
“do you care to read it? i’ve already done it a couple of times. i can lend the book if you ask.”
@timeislikemusic