Letting Go

Love was possessive, love was selfishness. Love was also about treasuring what you have when you still have it. Love was falling and failing and stumbling but also about building and rebuilding, nurturing and fixing. Sometimes, love was also about letting go. (AU)

"Ruo Xi, in your next life, would you remember me?"

"No, I want to forget, forget all of you. Yun Ti, please live well, just forget it, forget it all..."

Emperor Yong Zheng stood at the edge of the cliff and let the handful of ash leave his hand to fly with the wind. He hoped that now, wherever she was, no more tears could fall from those eyes that should never be allowed to look sad.

"Ruo Xi, you can be at peace now. You wanted to be free, and I'm setting you free."

He thought of her words years ago, how the only thing she wanted was to leave the cage that was the palace, the cage that was slowly squeezing all life and love and joy out of her. Or was it really the palace that did that, or was it him? What was really holding her back inside the palace, after all?

Had his selfishness in not letting him to back to the northwest with her sister been his own first steps in forging that cage? If he could do it over again, thinking only of Ruo Xi's peace of mind, of her happiness, of knowing that joyful smiles could grace her lips, would he be able to let go?

None of it mattered now, of course. All of her was free now, scattered to the wind, free to explore this wide earth, wherever she wanted to go.

"Ruo Xi, I'll let you go now, I won't make you stay beside me even now, because only Yin Zhen really ever had the hold on you."

He was Yin Zhen no longer. That part of him died with Ruo Xi. He was Yong Zheng now. Totally. Completely.

And Yong Zheng didn't deserve to have Ruo Xi by him.

Through blinding pain and what seemed like a wall of mist, she heard voices.

"Xiao Xiao, Xiao Xiao, are you awake now? I'll get the doctor."

Confusion reigned. She heard words, but not many of them made any sense.

"She's better now, the blood clot in her head had lessened. But being in a coma for so long, she'll be disorientated. Someone from the family should stay with her at all time."

"Thank you, doctor."

"Huang Di, you have been here for two days already, go home. Her mother and I got this. If necessary, there's still her brother."

"No, I want to stay. I want to be there when she really wakes up. I've hurt her so, I can't abandon her now."

"We'll make sure she knows how you've been by her side all the way through. Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for the two of you to make up."

She slowly made friends with consciousness again, and remembered who she was.

Or at least, she hoped so.

She was Zhang Xiao. She was twenty-five years old. She was an accountant. She drank coffee religiously and hated tea (strange, that). She never wore shoes that had less than a two-inch heel. She loved winter, hated summer. She liked to cook but hated to do the dishes. She had parents and a brother. No sister.

Those were the basics, for now.

And before she fell into a coma, she was raging at her boyfriend of five years, Huang Di, for cheating on her. Yet when she woke up, he was there and her parents told her that he'd been there almost constantly even when no one thought she would ever wake up again. He had taken leave without pay from work to care for her and had hated to leave her side.

Even right now, he was feeding her hot broth, and caring for her every need while her brother returned to work and her parents got some much needed rest.

Was this a man who betrayed her, who didn't care? Was it just guilt?

"Zhang Xiao, do you remember what happened?" the doctor asked.

She shook her head, fear filling her. Huang Di squeezed her hand in comfort.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel like I've been sleeping for a long time, lost in a dream, an endless dream. I feel hollow and like I should like to cry, but I don't know what to cry about."

"What happened to us?" she asked.

She had been released from the hospital long ago, but he was still around. He cared more for her comfort than his own. He threw himself into ensuring she was following doctors' orders for her recuperation and that she was comfortable. Even her parents eventually trusted her into his care and went back home.

It was all genuine concern, she could tell. It wasn't guilt. Not all of it, anyway.

"I messed up," he confessed. There was guilt and self-loathing in his voice. "I think my feelings for you got to a point where it was more than I bargained for and I felt like I was drowning in all the emotions I wasn't ready for. I thought Mei Mei would help balance me. I just sank deeper. I hurt you. I'm so, so sorry. I will devote my life to never hurting you again. Can we...start over?"

She looked at him.

Once upon a time, men had more than one wife. Once upon a time, they married women they didn't like, didn't know, didn't want to marry. And the ones they wanted too, of course.

It was easier to lust than to love. Lust took just a look. Love required work. Love was a house, and brick by brick it must be laid. Then there was the upkeep. Without care, love crumbled. Even with care and attention, in well-intentioned but ultimately misguided ways, love rocked on its foundation and threatened to crumble nonetheless.

Memories came back now and she inspected them with care and distance.

Perhaps it wasn't only he who failed in the upkeep. She had come to taken him for granted, too.

Start over. Yes, she would have to start over, whether with him or anyone.

For now, when nothing in her world seemed to be as she remembered them, she needed a constant. Perhaps he was the constant.

That weekend, they went to a Qing dynasty exhibition. She wanted to go, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

"What do you think?" Huang Di asked, supporting her on his arm. "Don't you think it would have been something splendid to have spent a day here? I just wonder what it must be like to have lived here, in all this riches."

"It looks grand on the outside," she murmured, "but it's a gilded cage. None of these people in these painting really look happy."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know. Anyway, they wouldn't be free. I want to be happy and I want to be free."

Huang Di gazed at her for a long time. It didn't bother her, but it made her curious.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You've changed since waking up. Quieter, more thoughtful, gentler."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, it just made me wonder, how much of that was because of me, because I hurt you."

"It's not, it's me. I'm not mad at you about that anymore. I don't know why, but I feel different. I find that life has more for me to consider now. Before, it was just work and work, letting time slip by. Now, I think I need to think about what I really want out of life, to live it. To treasure what I have before it can be taken away from me instead of expecting it always to be there. To not worry about the future."

"I hope there is a place for me in that life."

She was quiet for a long time. Then, "I hope so too." She turned a looked at him earnestly. "You are a good person, Huang Di. I can't promise right now, but I hope things will work out for us."

"Well, I've grown up quite a bit now, I hope that helps."

She didn't answer but just smiled, genuinely smiled, because she felt like it. The possibilities of life soared before her eyes. She was free to explore them, and perhaps with Huang Di by her side, if they knew how to tend to this budding gentle love that was given a second chance between them.

Across the room, a man watched her walking away from him, farther with each step, but the smile still on her lips.

He had found her, having been whisked to her time after his death. He could have approached her, of course and he might have, if that smile hadn't give him cause to stop and stare. The smile shined not just on her lips but also through her eyes. He didn't remember the last time she smiled so when she was by his side. No, that was wrong. He remembered. He remembered everything about her. But he also remembered it was a long time ago when such a smile danced on her lips.

If he approached her now, would she remember? Did he want her to remember, knowing that memories came with pain?

What was the point, he asked himself. Wasn't this better, seeing her so happy?

Hadn't she want to be free? Hadn't he set her free?

He didn't want to make the same mistake twice. She was happy, she was alive and she was free. And he would let her go.

A/N: Two words: plot bunny. That is all.