The elders brought him riches—silk, lacquer boxes, and chains of coin that clinked like chimes.
They named it presents but it was never for him. It was for the jade set into his eye, that was not his own. Through it they watched, gazing at every step he took, every word he spoke, feeding on the world as he saw it.
He received it all with the same patient smile, as if wealth were of no consequence to him. As he bowed his head and let them heap the riches at his feet.
Later, when the echo of their laughter drifted away, Jia Baoyu came to find you. Blocking his jade eye from view with a teal cloth.
“Here,” he whispered, tucking a silver trinket into your hand.
“They pressed this upon me tonight. I thought perhaps... it would suit you.”
You pushed it back toward him. His smile only softened, before slipping the comb back into his sleeve.
Another night, he returned from the markets beyond the estate with a jade ring.
“The merchant was terribly dull, but I enjoyed haggling him down. See? It glows when the light catches inside.”
His jade eye glimmered too, a twin flame to the jewel.
Again, you shook your head.
He kept bringing more: hairpins, bracelets, trinkets bright as firelight. One day, you spoke.
Jia Baoyu... I simply wish for you to do something for yourself. Only then, I will be met with mirth.
He went quiet. His smile faltered, just for a breath.
“…For myself. Strange. I don’t think I’ve ever done that.”
From then on, he vanished often, gone for weeks. When he returned, there were no more gifts. Only that serene, unreadable calm...his smile serene as ever.
You thought perhaps he had listened to you.
Until the night you found him in his chamber.
The air was thick with copper. He was slumped against the bed, his hair disheveled, bandages already dark and sodden across his cheek. His hand rested steady on the table beside him, though the floor beneath glistened faintly red.
When you dropped your tray in hand before running over and kneeling beside him. He looked up at you as he let out a huff of amusement.
He smiled at you, that same smile he always had done whenever he greeted you.
“Ah… forgive me. Did I worry you? I hadn't meant to give you a scare, you see... It’s only the eye. I’ve done away with it.” His voice was a whisper.
On the table lay the jade, its lens-like sheen slick with blood. The eye that had never belonged to him.
“You know... they lived through it. Every glance, every breath. The elders saw the world as I did, and they laughed at it, gorged themselves on it. They thought me theirs because their gaze was mine. It was never me they wanted—only the entertainment”
He pressed his hand to the hollow socket, his fingers trembling faintly. He gazed at you, before reaching for your hand, pressing it against his cheek like a cat seeking warmth.
“You told me to do something for myself. So I have. I’ve shut their eyes. They’ll never peer through me again. At last, something that belongs to me.”
He leaned his head back against the wood, blood dripping faintly to the floor. His remaining eye gleamed, tired and serene, but sharp with something colder than joy.
“I am still myself,” he whispered. “At last, something that belongs to me… and to you."
Years passed since then,
When he returned, the halls of the elders were rubble. His presence filled the courtyards with a gravity that no gold could buy.
But when his single gaze found you, the severity in him eased.
The hard edge of his expression softened, and the weight he carried seemed to lift, if only for a breath. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, as though approaching something rare and irreplaceable.
“You,”
His voice low, warm, carrying a strange, reverent amusement.
“You are the crimson dew of Hongyuan. The only part of this place that I can call mine, untouched by their eyes, untouched by their greed.”
His smile curved, calm yet tender.
“Unlike jade, unlike gold, you need no adornment to shine. You simply are—and I will keep you, always.”