[The worst thing about it is that it all flows so logically. He can see how each point interconnects, with barely any space for arguing between them. He could argue. He could rail against such accusations; his mother had been a whore and he didn’t find it shameful so much as necessary to survive, but the profession still had its mark of shame in society that bleeds even into Meng Yao who knows better. His pride is bruised and hurt and he’s been struggling to reconcile that it’s not something to be embarrassed of despite... Well, everything in his life trying to run counter to that.
His mother both was and wasn’t a source of shame. In this world, it didn’t matter. In this world, his ability to become like a whore and seek and give pleasure was a skill looked on with approval and envy. And it’s true he did far much more than that, both for Wangji and the temple, and Huaisang and his business. They... liked him, he supposed. Truthfully it didn’t matter how much they told him so, if they did, there would always be a traitorous whisper in the back of his mind warning him to watch out for such falsehoods and lies, because— Well. Because why? What did they have to gain from it here except as another means of subtly insulting him somehow?
He blinks back more tears and thinks that this sin’t the reason he’d come here today. He can’t quite recall the real reason anymore anyhow and that’s troublesome too.
There’s a lot he wants to say, but he can’t find the voice for them. Can’t find the motivation to try and argue when he doesn’t have any evidence to present otherwise. Even if he’s unwilling to face the truth, he must. Because it is the truth, isn’t it?]
...Yes. [Is what he says at length, soft and accepting. Yes, it must be true. Yes, he must accept it, because there’s no other alternative that he can feasibly see. Yes, because he has no choice. He closes his eyes and leans his head into the touch, sighing in a sort of deep contentment, like letting go.]
[Huaisang nuzzles at him, affectionate and soothing, wanting to help him to relax after that intense catharsis. He keeps kissing gently at Meng Yao's face, kissing away those tears. He wants to cement this new certainty, and to bind Meng Yao to him more than ever, and kindness has proved to be the most effective way to do so.] Come on, A-Yao. Let's go take a bath together. Won't that be nice? We can relax and you can choose whichever of my bath salts or oils that you like.
[Drawing his own panties the rest of the way down, Huaisang leaves them on the floor for Xichen to tidy up later. Taking Meng Yao's hand, he helps him to his feet.]
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His mother both was and wasn’t a source of shame. In this world, it didn’t matter. In this world, his ability to become like a whore and seek and give pleasure was a skill looked on with approval and envy. And it’s true he did far much more than that, both for Wangji and the temple, and Huaisang and his business. They... liked him, he supposed. Truthfully it didn’t matter how much they told him so, if they did, there would always be a traitorous whisper in the back of his mind warning him to watch out for such falsehoods and lies, because— Well. Because why? What did they have to gain from it here except as another means of subtly insulting him somehow?
He blinks back more tears and thinks that this sin’t the reason he’d come here today. He can’t quite recall the real reason anymore anyhow and that’s troublesome too.
There’s a lot he wants to say, but he can’t find the voice for them. Can’t find the motivation to try and argue when he doesn’t have any evidence to present otherwise. Even if he’s unwilling to face the truth, he must. Because it is the truth, isn’t it?]
...Yes. [Is what he says at length, soft and accepting. Yes, it must be true. Yes, he must accept it, because there’s no other alternative that he can feasibly see. Yes, because he has no choice. He closes his eyes and leans his head into the touch, sighing in a sort of deep contentment, like letting go.]
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[Drawing his own panties the rest of the way down, Huaisang leaves them on the floor for Xichen to tidy up later. Taking Meng Yao's hand, he helps him to his feet.]