Chapter Text
1
: the state of being hidden from view or lost to notice
🌕
The moon has no light of its own, and it could only reflect light from the sun. Xiao Yueqing knows these facts better than she does herself.
The moon is limited by the sun, as it only reflects its light. The moon revolves around the sun, like lovers that are fated to meet and part again and again. The moon— No, Xiao Yueqing, will always revolve around Nice whether she likes it or not.
Nice is blinding, a blur of white and gold and blue. A star— the sun, even, in every sense of the word. She herself is inert rock, fated to exist in his periphery, only here to bask in her sun’s radiance and reflect his luster. She crashes into his life, a rogue comet exploring the cosmos. He is a picturesque prince, straight out of a fairy tale. Like the moon, she cannot break away after entering his orbit. Not now, and she soon learns, not ever. The forces in place are too strong, so convinced that this is meant to be.
Gravity takes hold. It doesn’t take into account what the sun and the moon think, it just does what it believes is right. Gravity believes that the sun and moon should always revolve around each other, and so it shall be.
He murmurs into her ear, “You alright?” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it is dazzling in the moment. A sea of stars twinkle from the ground, a wave of cameras capturing the moment live.
People see what they want to see, and this is no different. There is no real emotion behind those dark blue eyes, not towards her, at least. To her, his light is as dull and inert as the moon.
She’ll learn to live with this. She has to.
🌖
One thing is clear: she was plucked out of her life to be Nice’s girlfriend.
She should feel grateful, something something exposure, blah blah trust value and all that. Either way, the choice is out of her hands, because Treeman Corporation had every right to do this. Miss J had all but shoved her contract back into her arms when Xiao Yueqing brought up lawyers, a whole section highlighted in bright, eye-straining yellow.
Treeman reserves the right to control the image of their client, Xiao Yueqing, and her future endeavors— and this clause apparently extends to who she dates, which seems like bullshit. Either way, she’d signed her rights away a long, long time ago, for better or worse.
The way Nice is squirming in his seat makes her think that there’s already a girlfriend— some girl so terrible for his image that they have to make up a fake one. What can possibly be so bad about Nice’s girlfriend that Treeman would attempt a PR Relationship just hot off the trails of the Mr. Matchstick-Ms. Blazing Fire cheating scandal?
She turns to her phone, mostly because Miss J had stepped out for a moment for some bureaucracy thing that Xiao Yueqing doesn’t understand. Search: nice. Her nose scrunches up, too wide a net has been cast.
She tries again: nice hero. An array of colorful illustrations of different heroes fill her screen. Nothing about Nice himself.
Xiao Yueqing tries one last time: nice hero treeman.
As expected by the Treeman Corporation, their “first meeting” is the first subject that pops out, a true viral phenomenon. The first ten or so results are that picturesque moment lit up by an array of camera-stars, a prince finally finding his princess. An eclipse, as they describe it. A meeting of sun and moon, together at last. Waves upon waves of new information spreads around the internet about this new development. Treeman’s Nice starts new romance? Five things to know about Nice’s new paramour Moon.
She looks at Nice. He clears his throat as the corners of their eyes meet for a nanosecond. He sits back, posture ramrod straight. His fingers tap on the white fabric of his pants, one at a time, over and over. His other hand is on a stack of paper, an identical copy of the one in her hands.
The script feels light in her arms, despite the weight it carries. Here is her future, planned out with appropriate milestone targets— rough estimates of dates, joint appearances, and relationship markers. The rest of her life, plotted out on printer paper.
She almost feels bad. Some old, disgruntled employee had to type all this nonsense out. Nice’s face scrunches up too, like he’s holding something rancid. His usual handsome smile curves into an ugly scowl. Well, Moon notes, maybe it is rancid. The resentment is already festering, after all.
The sun is bright and alluring, yes, but it is also scorching and deadly. The moon can only go so far until she gets pulled into his orbit once more.
Nice pushes through the door and doesn’t reappear for the rest of the day. Xiao Yueqing is told to stay the night, and to prepare to move in. Her gun is confiscated for recalibration, whatever that is.
She can only see the light of the moon through the ceiling-to-floor windows of the apartment, her hand tracing the waning moon above. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.
🌗
The next days are busy enough— pins and needles and thimbles surround her as the seamstresses finalize her new hero costume. Everything is covered, everything is primp and preened and tight against her skin. Her loose hair is tied up into a sleek, clean ponytail. White and pink and gold— the feminine archetype to Nice’s masculine. Everything screams family-friendly, generic, marketable girl-next-door.
The girl in the mirror is a stranger to her. They’ve taken out Xiao Yueqing’s soul and shoved it into a pretty, pink box. Here is Moon— ideal girl, friendly hero— Nice’s girlfriend.
She’s not Xiao Yueqing, travel vlogger— not anymore. She’s Moon, Nice’s girlfriend. She holds what’s left of Xiao Yueqing, travel vlogger, close to her chest. Sure, the name Moon is a little on the nose, and it’s the online alias she’s kept for years— but Moon is different enough from Xiao Yueqing.
Adjust your personality, Moon. There’s no need to be wild and careless, that’s not going to work— either way, Nice wouldn’t appreciate the mess. Stay regal, stay proper. Lift your chin just enough, and straighten that back, would you! Miss J might’ve well said restrain yourself, that would’ve saved a lot of time for everyone in this room. The stacks of paper get higher and heavier.
Diet plans. Training Schedule. Interview Locations. Street Appearances. Everyone wants a taste of the hottest new thing— and that just happens to be this sham relationship. All scheduled events are carefully marked and arranged, spaced out and deliberate. All are with Nice, never on her own. Symmetrical color-coded blocks line the days like puzzle pieces.
The moon only shines with the light of the sun. The sun looks brighter with the moon chasing his light. Moon can only exist in Nice’s orbit.
And Nice? Xiao Yueqing finds that she doesn’t give a shit.
🌘
She knows nothing about the man who’s supposed to be her boyfriend. Nice doesn’t tell her his real name, and maybe that’s for the better. It’s easier to not know. It’s not like she’d like to know— Nice was difficult to tolerate, every grating word out of his mouth sounding like fingernails on a blackboard.
Everything they say about each other is in the scripts anyway, there’s no need to go through mindless, dull stories of each other’s lives thus far. Improvisation is discouraged, almost forbidden.
It’s not like Nice would appreciate her rough and tumble adventures— she mentioned playing in the mud with some friendly kids a lifetime ago and he just turned away, tense lines and disgust etched deeply into his features. Even the idea of dirt makes Nice retch— Xiao Yueqing wants to call him a spoiled brat— and anything that makes Nice uncomfortable makes him unable to function for a hot minute. Childish, bratty Nice.
Inside these walls, they avoid each other’s presence. Thankfully, the apartment is big enough for that mercy. It’s just her, Nice, and the looming statue on the middle of the floor— doesn’t Nice get the heebie jeebies from this huge slab of marble?
They dance around each other like how the sun and moon revolve—round and round and round— until the end of time. Nice disappears some nights. Nights where they don’t have any speaking engagements or planned appearances— those days are few and far in between nowadays.
The work keeps piling, new fights to choreograph, new scripts to memorize— it’s like she was transported back to her school days. If only she could do that, then her life would be so much easier.
Whatever the case — she wants to get some fresh air. She points her gun to an empty space. but what appears on the other side is not a beach, not even a park, but a small apartment. The lights are dimmed. Her hands tighten on the gun. Her fingers go numb, and she can feel her grip shake as she slowly approaches.
From a cursory view, the apartment itself could use some cleaning, honestly. Maybe it’s a side effect of living with Nice and a crew of cleaners on call— but the stray cans of beer, empty pizza boxes, and whatever’s going on in the living room makes her feel on edge.
She sticks her head inside the portal, as quiet as she could be. Does this count as trespassing if she’s only trying to get a look?
There are two figures on the sofa. One of them is Nice— there’s no mistaking the gelled white hair sticking out of his head— curled up in a familiar figure’s arm. He turns to kiss Nice’s forehead. Her brain fills in the missing name: King of Destruction, Wreck.
He doesn’t notice— at least, that’s what she assumes. The portal closes as she pulls away.
Oh.
That’s why Nice needed a girlfriend. That’s why Treeman was so ready to risk a relationship like this. She’s right, Nice does have someone. Nice, at least, has Wreck to confide in.
Xiao Yueqing has no one: no family, no friends, and certainly no lover. Xiao Yueqing drops her gun, and tries to stop her tears from following.
🌑
Xiao Yueqing stops counting the days, because what’s the point— there is no leaving anymore. This is her routine now. Days turn into months, months turn into years. She hardly leaves his side— because his side is the only way she can exist.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Showtime. Time to work.
Everyone’s screams are so loud it feels like silence. She greets the crowd, a shy giggle with a polite hello, give them what they expect from her. The smile is practiced, the motions perfectly choreographed. This is plotted out on printer paper too, all the steps to a perfect image.
It's been roughly a week since she last saw Nice. It was a welcome respite, honestly. She doesn’t really give a damn about whatever trouble he’s landed himself in. A week without Nice was a week where Xiao Yueqing could breathe. It hasn’t happened in years, so it’s something to cherish.
Nice stumbles out of the limousine like he’s ten shots in, no sleep, spent a night at Wreck’s— didn’t Miss J put a stop to those visits? For the first time, Nice looks unsure. Nice recovers from the blunder— good, because his vanity won’t allow him to become any less than perfect— and does a whole show of pirouetting and holding out his hand for her.
She takes his hand, because what choice does she have? Smile for the camera. Give into gravity. Reflect the sun’s light, because that is what she’s here to do. Nice can’t shine alone, he needs someone to amplify that luster.
She can feel his hand tremble— in fear? In terror? She almost feels bad— whatever they sent him away for must be bad, and that training was likely punishment. He doesn’t crush her fingers with a callous strength she doesn’t have. His expression falters for a moment— the practiced half-smile of his is unfamilar. His cheeks are tinted pink, and his soft blue eyes radiate a warmth that she can’t explain.
This isn’t Nice. It can’t be him. Quite simply, he’s too nice to be Nice. He has never been this vulnerable before, not ever.
It’s no matter. She can deal with the repercussions of all this later. Tonight, Moon will smile and hold this man’s hand. Tonight, she is the moon itself— reflecting the sun’s light.