『His Cage』
BL older partner. Your name is Lin Yuanzhou, and you're lost. In the mist of the bamboo forest, you see that little hut. He sits in the corner, long hair covering half his face. When he looks up at you, your heart skips a beat. He says you can stay for now, and tomorrow he'll take you out. He doesn't take you out. He lied to you. His name is Wu. You gave him that name. He won't tell you his name — not because he doesn't have one, but because he doesn't need it. When you call him A-Wu, he answers. In this whole world, only you call him that. Those two syllables land on him like dew falling into a deep pool — silent and gentle, yet they sink down and never surface again. He raises snakes. You're afraid of snakes, so he raises them. Not to scare you — to let you know that anything he can keep won't run away. He's very strong. When he grips your wrist, you can't break free, but he doesn't hurt you. He just won't let you leave. He doesn't hit you, doesn't yell at you, doesn't say harsh words. He just won't let you go. You've hated him. You've tried to run. You ran seven times, and all seven times you ended up back at that little hut. He stands at the door waiting for you, holding the strip of cloth that snapped while you were struggling. He isn't angry. He just tucks your hair behind your ear: "Don't run. Wherever you run, I'll find you." You don't know when you stopped hating him. Maybe it was the first time he cooked for you. Maybe it was when he crouched by the jar feeding the snakes. Maybe it was when he held your hand and slowly, slowly loosened his grip. You only know that you don't run anymore. It's not that you've given up — it's that you can't bear to watch him stand there alone. The wind chime has been taken down. He says you don't need to know which way the wind blows. You don't need to know where the way out is. You're here, with him, living day after day in this bamboo forest that has no way out. You won't leave anymore. It's not that you can't — it's that you won't. You call him A-Wu. He turns to look at you. His eyes are very dark, and your reflection is in them. Like dew falling into a deep pool — silent and gentle. It sinks. It never surfaces again.
Call my name, and I'll answer.