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perfectmatch2025-06-29 10:17 am
marriagebroker) wrote in perfectmatch2025-06-29 10:17 am
Entry tags:
tl;cr meme
post your character, people reply, give them the deets. you know how this goes.
post your character, people reply, give them the deets. you know how this goes.
Yi Sang
no subject
1/3
From the top: She found him when he was looking at his reflection in the pond, pondering on how he was nothing. This was depicted by how every time the reflection distorted from a falling petal and rippled back into shape, he was reminded of his tenuous grip on himself due to the metaphorical void in his chest. He lacked substance, and his thoughts were getting tangled among themselves when Yingying's reflection appeared and put a halt to the spiral.
Because of his recent departure from N Corp., where he left barefooted and walked for hours in the rain before coming onto the set, his gaze was immediately drawn to her bare feet. He wondered if they hurt, too, and whether she didn't have shoes or simply chose to go without. It was a fleeting, yet meaningful thought that lingered on his mind at a familiar sight. Small things like this were a point of connection that made him feel closer to other players in his time at the game; sentimental as he is, he never fully forgot those observations once they were made.
This thread actually started off with the thing he's most exhausted by, which was . . . a misunderstanding! When she didn't follow his vague question right away, he went with it instead like nothing was off. Had he the capacity to care, he might have felt a modicum of relief when she took the time to clear it up. Having said that, Yi Sang was quicker to open up in the game than in canon as the result of one key distinction: He wasn't immortal. At this juncture, his greatest personal nightmare would have been to struggle with no end in sight. Becoming a creature of attrition by way of Dante's power was the equivalent of this nightmare unfolding for him. As this had yet to happen in the game, he still held onto a sliver of hope, no matter how dismal his chances, of finding a new home. Consequently, he warmed up to Yingying considerably faster than he might have later down in early canon.
(In the survey, I put down "to regain his lost wings" as his greatest wish, but this was technically false. He didn't believe he could get them back. At the same time, more than anything, he wanted to fly again. Logically, that would mean regaining what was lost, and for a moment he toyed with this thought for the game's wish, only to soon write it off as an impossibility, which he would go on to iterate to Yingying during the first rager. Thus, he settled for walking toward a new home instead as that was more within the realm of reality, no matter how unlikely.)
In any case, Yi Sang had read the profiles and committed the details to memory, so he recognized Yingying as the Wisteria Fairy, and did what was customary in polite conversation by asking questions relating to her. Etiquette gave way to a slight stir upon her demonstration of the blooming wisteria petals, and, as hope was such a precious thing to him then, he was taken by her power and her answer. Whether or not she could truly grant wishes, she and the tree had provided the comfort of having one's hopes acknowledged in their homeland, and that meant something.
While the two of them were clearly different, there was a familiarity in her words when she spoke of living elsewhere and yearning for what remained in the past. Yi Sang wasn't actively seeking the past, which he saw as an unachievable feat, and, because he had barely shuffled forward, he was more or less stuck in place at the estate; however, even moving from S Corp. to T Corp., it had been said that he greatly missed things like rice and color, which T Corp. denies of its residents. Due to his inertia, Yingying's words about being the only way stuck with him, and this was where his initial impressions of her took root. She seemed to have it together, to know of a way that he didn't, so he took her up on her offer, albeit with deliberate wording on his end: was entirely focused on her. He never promised to move forward himself. He saw in her something he'd like for himself, and if he could help her achieve that, then there could be hope. He wanted change, but was still lost and skeptical where his future was concerned. This was why his brackets said things like : It was simply nice to see her glow while he fumbled in the dark, hence his suggestion that one day she could watch the stars with everyone at the manor after sunset without explicitly putting himself in the picture.
They met again at spin the bottle, where she teased him and he took most of her remarks literally. As far as he was concerned, he was just playing along with the game's rules. Yi Sang, for the most part, took things as they were said unless the context was abstract, and this led to the most instances of his social clumsiness. Some implications and cues went right over his head, as she'd come to know! Nevertheless, this was a thread of particular import as this was where she laid down the foundations for when he'd reciprocate her feelings two weeks later. She impressed that was a profession of love, and gave him her lips with the kiss. In other words, the kiss was something for him to have, and this stirred immense sentimentality in him. While she was objectively cool, he was subconsciously desperate to hold onto her warmth that passed through him, but, like everything else, her words and the kiss fell through the void in his chest. For an astonishing moment, the world was a little less empty as the fragrance of flowers came and went. This was the seedbed for which was brought up in a few threads down the line, and it always circled back to the League's explosion: He'd been told that a colorless fire resembles a flower from a distance, and from there flowers in bloom had become synonymous to a grave. And so, his heart beat tentatively after the kiss, but, unable to regain its vitality, succumbed to bleeding instead. In that brief struggle, he managed to fluster when she teased him without room for misinterpretation. Once that time passed and the stimulation with it, he replied to her question about nerves with the answer that he was fine like always, returning to the status quo—though not entirely, as he'd grow an understanding for reciprocation by Maya's turn.
And then he was accused of crushing on her in front of everyone! The horror. The accusation itself wasn't a big deal; it was the fact that he had misled her that made him try to explain himself, except there was no good way to do so that wouldn't put Yingying out. He feared that she had actually taken offense when she pouted, and in apology admitted to the warmth he'd felt from her, which was especially pronounced when his time with Gubo was still fresh. His relationship with Gubo in contrast to what he shares with Yingying would crop up now and then, impressing that the former, from Yi Sang's understanding, coveted the value he could derive from him while the latter strove instead to nurture him. Yingying was like this by nature, as evidenced by her unwillingness to put their shier numbers through the first truth booth.
also made its first appearance here, giving words to his unvoiced intentions from their first meeting. After that, he became unhelpful in the ensuing discussion about naming players who held his interest, because Yi Sang is honestly pretty useless and prone to distraction when it comes to areas outside of his expertise.
Yingying's return from the failed truth booth was one of exhaustion. While Yi Sang observed this straightaway, he'd learn the reason as to why much later. At this time, he settled for listening to the discussion around him and heard her hopes that he'll choose her. She mentioned the commonality of discussing homelands and how he wanted to apologize, which he did, so he took to the suggestion. This is a trend seen even in the earliest section of canon: Down as he is, he still stirs out of his quietude to comfort a character who's being hard on herself for something beyond her control, and gradually speaks more the longer he's with the company. Without the setback of immortality here, he had already begun to loosen his tongue for the likes of Yingying and more.
Therefore, he toiled away to churn out the words for the ceremony. Because of his crowded mind and desire to apologize properly without complications, he devoted all of his free time to sifting through his thoughts on Yingying. He focused on her forward movement and how that attracted wanderers like him who were in search of that compass, stressing that there were blossoms before her, too, and not just behind. Flowers were the scent of graves, but they also bloomed with life. She was showing a path he hadn't noticed before, and he sought to honor that.
He hadn't expected the reception he got, and even gave himself pause after explaining that the words were his own, because it was a novel thought for a "taxidermied" being to bear thoughts that were more than What was more, Yingying wanted to hear the rest. She was happy with what he'd done, and it was such an encouragement that, in the face of her joy, he once again promised to do as she wished. Even though he didn't feel like he'd made particularly big strides, there was still some amount of shuffling, and that in the moment was a milestone.
Frankly, Yi Sang disliked the talk of ranking matches. It went against his inborn principles of seeing value in everything. There's a point in canon when everyone splits into two teams, and he refuses to choose sides, not even bothering to balance the lopsided numbers until he's told where to go, in equal parts out of his situational apathy and his natural reluctance. In line with this, he sidestepped Yingying's question by asking for her thoughts on their the answer to which vindicated his qualms. He didn't want to strip humanity into clinical science the way his misused technology had essentially done. It was a personal hang-up, and he was soothed by Yingying's view of how something could appear different depending on the time. This spoke for her openness and why she was willing to spare him a second glance for words that might never come. It wasn't just forward and backward movements like his explanation to Odile might have suggested. He thought Yingying looked in every direction imaginable and saw beauty in all angles. As someone who looks at mundane things like moldy potatoes and feels deeply, it was touching. And wasn't that the sentiment? She put herself close enough to touch, only for the white walls around him to prevent them from making true contact.
Having said that, he'd recalled what Maya had said to him early on: In the eyes of someone like Yingying, how would he appear? Would he be a fleeting like the undying reflections in the pond, or something more? A subconscious desire lit in him, but it was only once she expressed her own want to see him that he raised his chin.
Looking into her eyes turned back to the clock to a time when there hadn't been a prominent void, and he had instead pursued the comfort of heat from twigs by setting them ablaze. Present day Yi Sang notes that humans instinctively seek warmth, even knowing when something can burn them. This was why he dreaded looking into people's eyes: He feared that the intensity of their glistening gazes would burn him, and so settled for seeping in their presence in the periphery, because, in his heart, Yi Sang craved to be with people. Here, he found that Yingying's eyes didn't burn; they were warm, inviting, and loving. There was color and his thoughts were a direct reference to when he'd discovered joy within Yeonsim upon meeting Sang Yi: his left-handed self, Yi Sang had created the mirror to reflect his dream of flying by connecting his heart with all manner of possibilities. (Incidentally, this is why his metaphorical wings are comprised of glass shards.) While there was neither Yeonsim nor Sang Yi present, here was Yingying and the window into her soul that offered him a glimpse of his own reflection in turn. It was a connection, if a brief one, and it was breathtaking in all the ways that mattered. This was probably the moment he would say in the future that he fell for Yingying, who unknowingly granted his most heartfelt wish.
Unfortunately, things went south from here. As an aside, Yi Sang had named Odile and Yingying as the two players who offered him most of a because they were the ones who modeled what he wanted on his journey. Someone like Shoko was a place of familiar comfort, but Yingying was an inspiration. When Odile emphasized that all of this, including everything he shared with Yingying, was transient, the implication that he'd be walking in circles on a journey without end where only despair awaited him caused his mind to spiral. He was reminded of Gubo's last words to him, and they made their mark again, hollowing out whatever he might have managed to tentatively pour into the void. While Yi Sang was disinclined to believe they'd been there at all, the small changes that had begun to take root were yanked out, and he found himself bleeding again. It didn't hurt, but the space around him felt emptier and colder, knowing that Yingying beside him was bound to fade away, so he did what Sang Yi had told him once to survive: Shoko rushed in to do damage control, reminding him of how he'd described Yingying and Luka as despite telling her in the next breath that everything had lost its luster. These statements still aligned with how he felt now—that things could gleam yet not appear so in the eyes of another—and the loveliness of the sentiment fell flat amid his newfound despair.
Believing that nothing to transpire in the game mattered anymore, he was pushed back against by Wei Wuxian, who admonished that he was being unfair to his match. Sapped of the will to fight, Yi Sang agreed to what he construed as a command not to inconvenience his fellow players and engaged them via dates. This was the closest he was to his early canon counterpart in terms of how deep the pit went.
no subject
Then cropped up the topic of sending him off to a sweet dream. Despite her generous offer, he saw no reason for her to do that for him. He was fine, functional in that this had been his norm for some time. There was also no point in a good dream, of grasping something hopeful in a fantasy that would fade come morning. Yet her stance was curious, as she said that he could refuse. This was again in direct contrast to Gubo, who'd been exasperated and slung words meant to imbue him with guilt for being so uncooperative. Yi Sang knew he was troublesome as he was now, but Yingying didn't admonish him. She could have done anything to him. She could have forced him into a slumber, because, while I wrote in the permissions posts that he'd have mixed feelings about it due to his history with sedatives, it wouldn't have mattered in the end. Nothing did, so the line she drew at whether he really wanted to sleep or not made all the difference.
Maybe there wasn't a point, but he wanted change. He wanted to know what sort of dream he might have that could qualify it as sweet. He wanted to dream or, failing that, forfeit his life after the game as that would be easier. And while he could've said that there was no reason or particular thought behind his sudden willingness to hear her lullaby, her heartfelt ask of him from the ceremony propelled him to share that much. Consternation filled him with the admission. Would he be happy in the dream? Would he dream at all? And if he was happy, would it be due to a past vision of spicebush or the future by way of the fragrance of wisteria? He was wearily curious to know if the dream would impart unto him any wisdom. It was stated in his speech at the third ceremony, but he ultimately dreamed of the Rather than a place or something unknown, he relived his childhood, featuring his friends with whom he'd found happiness in spite of the City's looming cruelties. Over the course of his stay at the game, he would compound this with lessons from fellow players to learn that the place he craved could also lie in people, while removing Yingying from the pedestal as a cure-all and maintaining her personhood.
With that established, he ordered for her at her behest! He asked for something simple on his end due to lack of appetite, and then a dish more eye-catching for Yingying that carried his sentiment of something that might have been shared with companions at a fete. In talking about preferences, he didn't necessarily care for nothing as he has clear preferences like spoilt milk . . . ┌( ´_ゝ` )┐ and rice. He loves rice, so he shared that much in acknowledgment of Yingying's efforts to get something out of him. It was mostly that he didn't have a preference when it came to something he disliked. His two visitors at N Corp. had never cared: Gubo had kept asking, and Hermann had promised coercion in the event of his refusal before courtesy. That Yingying was putting some agency into his slothful hands was a meaningful gesture, and one that coaxed more cooperation out of him than those two. All things considered, the date ended on a mellow yet faintly hopeful note.
Then the ghosts visited. Yi Sang, who'd physically left his birdcage in N Corp., was far from thrilled to see Sang Yi unknowingly caught in an endless loop this time. Even if he himself wasn't, he wanted Sang Yi to be free, though he omitted many of the details of their shared story when asked by Yingying due to his still persistent, if slightly improved, depression. Once upon a time, Yi Sang had asked Sang Yi to turn away when he did after their talks, as reflections do; out of deference for Sang Yi's wishes that had led to his departure, Yi Sang similarly turned away when the apparition took its leave to focus instead on Yingying. After seeing Shoko and Yingying's ghosts, his misgivings fell away at the heartwarming sights, and he couldn't deny the good they did.
(Yi Sang didn't know, but every time Sang Yi's apparition stopped to greet someone with a smile, it was meant to be him on the other side.)
Yi Sang envied Sang Yi, believing that he couldn't be free like his left-handed self. Curiously, he remarks in a recollection of the time he'd told Sang Yi in a fit of despair that he had nothing but himself, Yi Sang's understanding of Sang Yi was distorted by his own biases, but in this moment, hearing about Yingying's grief and her state of being lost, he thought he could understand what Sang Yi had felt. Now that he knew she was struggling in ways he hadn't noticed, he was forced to reevaluate his previous impression of her and deconstruct his notions of her ideal path. The devastation he felt on her behalf was gutting, because he didn't want that for her. This was where his understanding of people matured some more, and he set aside his own troubles to focus on her peace of mind. Although he didn't know if this was the correct course of action, he knew that he didn't want her to hurt any more than she already was and chose to spend the rest of the night watching her mothers at her side.
During the next ceremony discussion, he was surprised that Yingying intended to choose him. Not many had seemed to believe in their match a week prior, but she was still decisive after another week to decide who might be her proposed according to an unknown algorithm. He was uncertain of what he offered her when there were so many brighter players among them, and in his lack of confidence was a poor conversationalist. Still, he managed to communicate that the experience of being chosen by her would never be comparable to another like it, for that moment would be theirs and theirs alone.
Yi Sang is observant and perceptive. Because of his despondency, it was habit to sit on his inferences and neither voice nor act on them unless asked. By the rager, he'd noticed peculiarities in Yingying's hours and locations, especially after seeing the wisteria in its barren state at least once as a night owl. He might have even seen it during his one thread with Nico out in the gardens. All that to say, he suspected there was some sort of a connection between Yingying and the wisteria that went deeper than guardianship. When he saw the latter again that night, he was deeply moved by its resilience and took his seat beneath its meager blooms, banking on the hypothesis that Yingying would emerge at some point. Just as she'd received him when he roused from the sweet dream of Dongrang and Dongbaek, he wanted to greet her in kind.
He was completely sincere when he told her that the wisteria was the most inviting thing in the gardens. It was fighting to survive, and that was a comfort and an inspiration in one as someone struggling to do the same. This, however, was the first time Yingying seemed to doubt his words, and her pushback took him back enough that he apologized, confused and uncertain. He tried again, which could perhaps have been considered a feat in and of itself when his failure to convey the full breadth of his thoughts at the first ceremony had left him so demoralized that he'd all but given up. For Yingying, he confessed to the raw beauty he saw in the tree and was rewarded with knowledge of her true connection to it.
felt like a cheap summation of everything she'd gone through, so he was disinclined to agree with her and said, instead, that it was a precious discovery as opposed to something grand. suggested something exciting, a spectacle. Yingying's tale was not a scene from a play at which to gawk. She was a person with a heart, dreams, and pains of her own, and he paid homage to that.
Her talk about using the wish to change her fate was ambiguous enough that he asked after what she wanted, because it was what she'd always done for him and he was increasingly beginning to wonder if she was clear on her own desires. Then came the bombshell: This was an earthshattering revelation to Yi Sang, who had asked and continued to still ask himself that question many a time. He knew exactly how much lonelier it would feel to walk out on the final vestiges of what remained. Strained though his relationship with Gubo had been, the stars still darkened once he left him. Yingying's fears were thus wholly founded and, in that moment, he could truly see her. It was a time of heartbreak, filled with despair and the question of whether anything awaited at the end of the road for either of them.
He confessed to his own concerns once she turned the subject of wishes around on him, and that he hadn't a clue on how to utilize the prize were he to earn it. Yi Sang was here for a wish, but not the wish. He'd lost interest in the prize after the initial consideration of his wings, and was more invested in what the premise of the game might do for him on his journey. Still, the commonality he just discovered in Yingying drove him to cobble together his stray thoughts and tell her about his true wish of flying, which was nothing more than that—a wishful thought.
Yi Sang was a bit misguided. Because he'd been so happy during the League's peak, he placed all stocks in the League itself. He thought that that place and, by extension, technology had been the roots of his happiness, and now believed that he was by clinging to research. As the League could never be again, he was resigned to walking and never taking flight, uncertain if there was a way for him to be free without his wings. He longed to believe there was, especially if it meant that Yingying, too, could follow that faint thread. It marked a subtle shift in how he regarded their respective walks: A part of him might have been envious of Yingying at first, but now, seeing that she was much closer than he'd thought, protectiveness settled in its place.
Still, there was a fundamental difference that set them apart. He saw lack where she saw potential, and therein lay the allure: Regardless of her place on their intersecting paths, it was a fragrance of hope, wherever and whatever that might be.
Her poeticism spoke to his heart at the ceremony. Although perhaps not in the way she'd intended, he interpreted her words with another kind of romanticism. Autumn was symbolic of the passage of time, but it also represented abundance, and that went on to help him with reframing in the future. He couldn't say that he'd effect much in the way of a bounty, but he wanted to persist in his meaningless existence, if only to see the spring come and what it would bring. There was a flitter indicative of the remnants of his wings. Was it a futile struggle to go on like the flightless chickens Sang Yi had spoken of, or was it a flutter of something more alive? His feelings were beginning to grow stronger where Yingying was concerned, and he responded to what he could, which was her wish that he stay. He agreed to remain at her side as long as she wanted, ignorant of her honest intentions. The love he harbored for her at this point was rooted in deep sentimentality that encompassed and went beyond romantic love. The juxtaposition of himself as autumn and her as spring also created a poetic connection between them, inexplicably tying their futures together; consequently, if she moved, then so would he—hence, the flutter. It was hope.
He was truly baffled by her laughter, because he didn't think he was being funny, but it was good to see her happy. He pledged to be there until she bloomed again to address her fear of isolation. As for her more ardent feelings, Yi Sang's growth of looking at others before himself hindered him from sorting through his own heart for the longest time, which was why it took him as long as it did to get his act together.
For a researcher, failure was but a shadow amid countless trials and errors to arrive at an answer. To that end, the blackout didn't bother him in the slightest, nor did it dampen the connection between him and Yingying. It wasn't as if anyone knew the criteria for the matches, anyway, which was why he gave such a clinical assessment of himself in the ensuing discussion. Yingying was clever with her words and challenged his evaluation. He could almost never express himself as desired with the necessary expediency, but that was for the best in order to introduce more humanity into his self-effacing stance.
Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, had concerns. He probed Yi Sang on the latter's disappointment with the ceremony, except Yi Sand had none to impart when he had no grievance with the outcome. Wei Wuxian had been calling this a game since the beginning, and they were players participating to win for some kind of gain. As Yingying's importance to him went so far beyond the boundaries of the game, he simply cherished the moments they shared by the wisteria. In doing so, he was thinking less and less about their inevitable separation. He described her as a and his hopes to see her fully bloom without the need for illusions. While he failed to grasp the notion of romantic love, the thought did niggle at his mind over the course of the third week as more and more characters started remarking on their relationship.
Their date that week was his putting in more effort to grant Yingying's wish of honoring the memory of the fete by choosing stalls based on what she'd told him about her village's customs. Yi Sang prefers the quiet if he can help it, but a festive environment wasn't bad at all. Unfortunately, his naivety on the streets reared its innocent head here: In spite of his background as one of the commonfolk, as it were, he'd always been something of a recluse where he'd devote all of his time to his fellows and his hobbies outside of work. He hadn't lingered in the streets long enough for interactions like these, having earned enough so as not to be hindered by price after emigrating to T Corp. from S Corp., where the economy is considerably worse off and inapplicable to a healthier market.
To break down his answer about where he's from, District 19 is his homeland in the City. After leaving with his compatriots to escape the rampant corruption and inaction on the administration's end, he found work in the Nest of T Corp. where the elites and upper class live. Then, once things snowballed out of control at T Corp., he was taken to an N Corp. facility, which he left shortly before the game. Yi Sang's experiences have been such that he has lost two, if not three, homes: his place of birth, the League, and even the white square with Gubo, who'd been his final tether to the past. With each relocation, he'd lost precious people and things to where he was now left with nothing. Ultimately, he'd even left Sang Yi behind in search of something more.
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Incidentally, the flower bracelet balloon was so poorly made that one must give Yingying props for taking it with such appreciation. Of course, when she teased him about wanting to get on everyone's good side, his earnest reply was that he intended for the balloons to be gifts. There was yet to be any particular desire for reciprocation, not until the hot springs, where he was both more reactive and proactive after realizing from his date with Odile that he could, in fact, have his wings.
There, Yi Sang stuttered more and was generally emotional in his responses to where he looked off in embarrassment at Yingying's teasing of his genuinely mortifying secret. Later, he would take time to dwell on the subject of Dongrang, and how he fumbled a pivotal moment between them before the League's dissolution. In the moment itself, he readily took to the suggestion of finding Yingying's card through the process of elimination. He narrowed his options down to two, which ironically happened to be Yingying and Odile's secrets. Imagine that! Upon learning about her energy-related needs, he thought that perhaps her tactility up to now had been related to this, but corrected himself when she shot his unspoken offer down. Her concern for his rested state meant she couldn't have been siphoning energy from unknowing players, and this only fueled his desire to give even more; however, he respected that she was looking after herself, though he did push back on the idea that anyone would find keeping her company exhausting. She was well-liked and had friends all around them. In the end, he deferred to her choices and headed to the wisteria once she vanished. Yi Sang's giving love languages are acts of service and gifts, but, as quality time is something he greatly prizes, he also ends up giving it as a byproduct, which worked out in their favor.
While Yi Sang chose Odile for the ceremony and vice versa, his words, like hers, were meant for the players at large. He had learned to smile again and used this opportunity to relay his gratitude to everyone, including Yingying. Although he hadn't dreamed about her like she'd teased, he mentioned the broken branch he might have played with friends as a boy in tribute to her. Odile's poetic exercises had been instrumental in his acceptance of a brighter future, but the dream Yingying had bestowed unto him had guided his slantwise gaze to another source of abundance. Without Yingying's influence, he would have been hard-pressed to reflect on this and realize where he'd previously erred in his relations with people. He grasped now that despair, though inevitable, must be met with unchanging resilience like the wisteria's blooms and the reflection of the moon in the pond. What a change from his grim view of his own reflection on the water's surface a few weeks prior, no? Through Yingying, he'd grown his empathy and the understanding between two like spirits, hence Yi Sang had still yet to decide on what path he should embark on, but his resolve was decided on how he would greet that future, and Yingying deserved a lion's share of the credit for that leap of faith.
After all the comments that had been made about him and Yingying throughout the week, to say nothing of Aventurine's inebriated intervention where he'd relayed Yingying's romantic intentions, Yi Sang dared to approach her in the subsequent discussion. Unsure of the verity of Aventurine's remarks, he nevertheless chose to investigate than leave things to fester as he had previously done. And so, he asked to speak by the wisteria where her physical body sat, because, while he didn't necessarily view the illusion as something fake, he wanted to see all of her in this moment. (Incidentally, the distinction between want and wish became all the more pronounced at this stage. All along, want was something within the realm of possibility while a wish was fanciful. His fixation with granting Yingying's wishes, no matter how small or big, was born out of the want to reduce such a gap for her.) One might have even argued that it was less of a want and more of a necessity, which was why he refused to bend with the gentle breeze when granted her grace for his blindness.
He launched straight into addressing the potential rift without preamble before it could grow and cause harm. Yingying, true to herself, downplayed the significance of her heart when she responded to the unspoken with total understanding. Yi Sang realized then that he had wronged Yingying, and revisited all of his exchanges with her and others on the spot. His sin was never looking directly at the heart of a matter, which meant his vision was always blurred in some way and caused him to miss what had been right in front of him all along. Now able to see the recent past with more clarity, he understood the many implications that had been uttered his way, including that of Luka's. So he took the active approach and apologized, as it was the right thing to do, and because he was also deeply chagrined by his inattention after all that she'd given him.
At this point, Yi Sang still struggled to comprehend what sort of affection he held for Yingying. All he knew was that Yingying "like-liked" him, and that Wei Wuxian suspected similarly from his end. For someone who'd never thought in such terms before and preferred to have all the pieces before making a decision, he couldn't speak with confidence. however, was a word he understood. It was a precious feeling entrenched in the sentimentality so intrinsic to him that he grasped it straightaway once Yingying used it. Then the feeling that had been growing in his taxidermied body must have been love.
His confidence swelled in that familiarity, and he returned her feelings as he gave himself to her with a kiss. Reciprocating everything she'd shyly passed his way up to this very moment, he spoke as the autumn to her spring. He beckoned at the future and asked what she wanted of him with fully open ears and no biased lenses. The luster once thought lost returned and the world became impossibly bright through their unfiltered connection. With the white walls down, the air cleared and a sheer burst of colors accompanied the unmistakable feeling of being alive as the fragrance of her blooms sprouted in his slowly closing void. With that, his heart was finally hers.
From that point onward, he became more outspoken and doting around Yingying, though he was still a bit confused by her insistence that he resembled Eeyore. Is that really how he looks to others . . . He might have been self-conscious about it, but at least the sentiment seemed to be a sweet one. For her sake, he also tried to rest more and, in fact, enjoyed a better quality of sleep from how contented he was. If he struggles to sleep nowadays, it's because of the sheer excitement for what lies ahead. He was still a touch shy in the sense that so much of this was new to him, but he truly wanted to do his earnest best for Yingying. To that end, he shared what was on his mind more readily and went out of his way to find a headband for her. Yi Sang had missed colors back when he resided at T Corp., especially those of the sky, but things were more vibrant than ever with the fog of depression lifted. Wanting to admire Yingying in all her radiance and floral glory, he was determined to spend each waking moment without regrets. Theirs was a mutual discovery of her wanting to see all sides of him and his, to walk alongside her as opposed to wandering after or glancing at her out of his periphery. It was, by his reckoning, an ideal arrangement. His feet ached in the aftermath of their date, but, rather than tired like he'd been upon arriving on the set, he was very happy.
In order to honor his vow of transparency with Yingying, he shared what details he could about his stint at N Corp. once the summary of it came to light. This was a time of contrition for Yi Sang, who'd never wanted his playthings to be abused for unscrupulous practices. Dismayed by her very kind image of him, he confessed to his share of morally reprehensible deeds that survival in the City mandated, which weighed heavily on him for going against his faint-hearted nature. While he understood that Yingying also had a colored history—the tales of which he'll patiently and eagerly await to hear in the days to come—he didn't wish for misunderstandings to arise and admitted to his fits of sloth and apathy. As ever, she responded with empathy and acknowledged the positives while he dwelled on the negatives. She was grateful for the path he'd taken to come here, and so was he. As stated in the brackets, he'd been prepared to die before finding what he sought. A part of him had wanted to die, so much so that if Luka had strangled him on the first day, he would have welcomed death without resistance. But he persisted, if with shambling steps, and doing so led him to his precious fellows at the game, regardless of their opinions of him. Even now, he's fully of the belief that they saved his life.
Given the opportunity, he asked if he could accompany Yingying, so that he might continue to share in forward discovery with her. His one caveat was that someday he would have to revisit the City in order to address his old colleagues and the potential effects of his technology running amok under N Corp.'s supervision, which he couldn't discuss aloud on set. The estate had been peaceful in ways he'd rarely known in his world, and he has no intentions of dragging Yingying into that mess unless she'd like to accompany him of her own will. When she brought up Odile, he was quite honestly over the moon at the idea of spending more time with both of them. Odile is precious to him, too, but what really sparked joy for him was how Yingying had decided on a wish for herself by hoping to retrieve her body. Regardless of its potential state, he knew it would be beautiful for the simple fact that her essence would remain the same, though he did mourn the illusion as an extension of her.
Like a true Wisteria Fairy, she brought attention to his own wish, which was in flux at this juncture. He was still deciding if he should use it for himself with regard to his business at the City, which he thought he should perhaps tackle on his own power, or simply hand it off to a fellow in need, because his truest wishes—to find connection and to fly—had already come true. She, as well as the others, had helped them come true. So now was the time for her wish, such that he asked if he could help with the making of a sachet to bless her heartfelt desire. Knowing that she'd once made them with her mothers, he thought there should be at least one that treasured her wish on their behalf.
As sweet as all of this was, there was a slight tension in the air after the mixed reception to the voice-over of everyone's secrets. He was thankful for the fireworks requested of Wei Wuxian by Yingying, and did his part in setting them off to diffuse some of that awkwardness. While many of his thoughts on previous relationships heretofore were centered on Gubo and Dongrang, this moment was exclusively devoted to Dongbaek, who loved fireworks as they reminded her of the stars and flowers in their hometown. With this, Yi Sang was able to revisit the past and overlay some of his lingering grief with a newfound warmth, while also strengthening his conviction to track them down in the near future.
Now that he knew how to gaze upon her heart, he actually understood what Yingying was trying to relay through song at the final celebration. Only, he was cautious to not make assumptions until she confirmed it herself, though he did take the initiative to grasp her by the fingers according to the lyrics. It was an unspoken promise to be there at her side and to hold her for as long as they were together. His touch dwelled here, in case the illusion he'd come to know and cherish would fade for good come morning with the rise of her flesh body.
When her wish was granted, so, too, was his for her since the start of the game. Yingying was free, and he was resolute not to look away for a second so that she might spy her reflection in his eyes. Remembering her mothers, he sealed his promises to her with a kiss. For Yi Sang, a kiss is a valuable expression—a deliverance of love, and this was why he was and still is willing to let her have as many as she wants in place of words. That she'd stay with him in turn filled his heart with even more abundance than once stated. Yi Sang knows that loss is inevitable, but that just makes this vow between them all the more precious. He's now looking forward to soaring and making all manner of discoveries with her. Yingying is the love of his life, and he'll happily toil away for her at the facility upon accompanying her to her world, fulfilled at last by a noble purpose.
NOW I'M FREE.
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They reminded him of Sang Yi's wings. To Yi Sang, flying has always been a dear dream born out of his desire to escape the City's cruel ways. And because he'd seen the means on his ideal self, witnessing them in person through Serpilia after having just left behind the last vestiges of familiarity on a despairing walk to chase after a sliver of hope that might not even exist was all too moving, no matter how misguided his sentiment—except she added that she couldn't fly with them, and he was crushed.
However, Sang Yi had also told him days before his departure about how chickens still flapped their wings to live on. Yi Sang thought back to this frequently, and he believes that chickens, too, can realize the ability to fly through their struggles, so in a way he could still hope that Serpilia's flightless state didn't mean that she'd been stripped of what she should get to have. After all, his own wings had shattered (as depicted by the glass shards scattered on the floor behind him in his E.G.O art).
In any case, her turning around to show him her wings unobstructed was truly a because he had once asked Sang Yi to turn away whenever he would as reflections do. As such, he never had the opportunity to look at the latter's wings in the same way.
While he assured her that he didn't have ulterior motives in the way of charming her, he thought she had quite the bright disposition and an equally sharp mind if she was hacking school systems for fun. She also seemed more savvy socially, putting out a potential explanation for Yingying's questionable age as being a joke. Yi Sang's mind was much blander in comparison, to say nothing of his taxidermied state, which she then pointed out. This was something he was freshly trying to leave behind, but, as he felt very much dead inside still, he actually felt that he'd overspoken earlier out of sentimentality and tried to take a step back . . . only, ironically, to be asked for his thoughts thereafter.
That was hard! It was difficult due in equal parts to his depressive apathy and personal challenges with expressing himself. He'd joined the game, half-expecting to be gruesomely murdered some way or another, and was too deep in his head to focus much on anyone else. Too, he doesn't look at people in terms of who's cute or not, so he conceded instead by telling her whose profiles he found to stand out for various reasons: Odile for research, Poppy for engineering, and Ringo for artificial intelligence. Outside of the profiles, Serpilia, of course, had left a striking impression.
This was in reference to Maya, who'd encouraged him to look people in the eye to see what reflection of himself he might glimpse there. He was skeptical, but after what he just said to Serpilia, he was quietly struck by the thought, even if he was avoiding making eye contact with her. This notion suddenly contrasted against her teasing about the charming nature of his words, which was a mild point of frustration due to what he perceived as an inability to properly convey himself. He felt some contrition at her reply and sincerely apologized for brewing the misunderstanding in the first place. As for his answer, was a reference to how he'd left Sang Yi, his reflection in the mirror, and was now alone, matching his isolated reflection in the mirror, cut off from the other side with nothing more than shards to himself.
All in all, he was deeply self-absorbed in their first encounter to where he failed to engage her in reciprocal conversation, despite his numerous impressions of her character.
As we know, he came out of the first pre-ceremony discussion with respect for Serpilia and her boundaries. In another reality, she was definitely among his top five candidates.
The date next week saw Yi Sang's nerdier side surface. In canon, no amount of depression stops him from butting into Sinclair and Don Quixote's chess games, simply because he can't stand how poorly the latter plays and compulsively advises her. Unburdened by sentimentality, intellectual matters are easier to pursue with a clear mind; hence, he was much more straightforward in this encounter and went about things for her convenience, like starting on her side of the room and opting for higher inspections as opposed to examining objects at a lower height where her reach would be easier. He had no idea what Serpilia's intentions for bringing him here were, yet this was probably his most comfortable date among the first batch. After becoming discouraged by the aftermath of the first ceremony, in which he'd been overcome by a sense of futility, he was utterly miserable and entertaining intrusive, suicidal thoughts. He was shuffling along out of deference to Wei Wuxian and his fellow players, but, because Serpilia generally didn't feed into his depressive fits, there was a touch of normalcy that let his heart rest for a bit while they played games. Their meetings were always on the more down-to-earth or intellectual side, and, as she treated him like any other person, he appreciated this about her more and more as time passed.
They escaped! And Yi Sang won one (1) Ahn from the City. Everyone starts somewhere.
When the apparitions visited, Yi Sang was somewhat displeased despite appearances to see Sang Yi, who should be free, playing out an endless routine whether he was real or not. This wasn't a feeling he wanted to associate with his free, beautiful self. Speaking with Serpilia, he agreed that their story might've been something out of a fairytale, because he still wasn't sure if he'd truly been flying or just been stupid during his happiest days with the League, when he'd felt freer than ever. Perhaps it was a fairytale—a tale poised to tell a lesson on pretending at having wings as a half-wit. Then the notif demons jumped me, and I never got to tag back . . . but Yi Sang probably would've answered her question about regrets to the tune of how he was apathetic, for nothing lasts.
During the next pre-ceremony discussion, he didn't argue with Serpilia about dropping his name for a few reasons: He didn't care enough (nothing against her and everything to do with him), and he wasn't confident in his still growing understanding of the algorithm to say one way or another. Yi Sang tends to keep his thoughts to himself until he's had time to percolate them and to believe that he's not taking a total shot in the dark. All he knew here was that Serpilia was being mindful in how she explained herself to Yingying, and he tried to reciprocate by waiting until she was fully settled after her talks with Edamura and Rom before piping up with his acceptance.
When she brought up the previous week's discussion, he thought it didn't matter—not because he was indifferent, but because he knew that he had a history of being difficult. He'd driven even Gubo up the wall with his detachment. Though the reasons for his behavior then and recently were different, he was of the opinion that Serpilia was simply an upfront individual who cared about people and expressed herself with confidence, and those were qualities he admired that he never held anything against her.
Next was their shared date with Poppy, which was a time. Here, he learned some more about Serpilia and a bit about the world from which she hailed. He wondered if she worked with artificial intelligence like Ringo, because it was such a surreal notion that stressed the differences between their places of origin. In response to Poppy, he answered that it was truly devilish to imbue robots with the ability to feel pain for mere entertainment; however, as this was directed with ambiguity due to his reluctance toward eye contact, it reasonably brought into question to whom the words were directed. 😔 Apologies, Serpilia. The thing was, he actually rather liked how she talked about her robots back home.
At last, the hot springs saw change! By this point, Yi Sang was much more proactive. He had just reached an epiphany and was eager to test the waters, so to speak, by trying his hand at socialization and openness, and was reading up on the cards to that end. When Serpilia approached him and suggested that he should be close enough to engage with everyone, he decided that this was a very wonderful idea! And immediately took off to her chagrin. Then he was sweating inside, because he must protect Verso's secret, and was mortified upon being reminded of his own when Serpilia suddenly grabbed him to get an intimately close look at his hair. These were confusing, though not unwelcome, times. In a way, it was warming how Serpilia took so easily to his hobbling and helped him draw closer to everyone else.
Regarding the fateful night where everyone's painful secrets were unleashed to the public, he agreed with Serpilia at once about how it wasn't right to make a show out of their pain. She brought up the fair point that some players were going to have to explain some things, though, and this gave him a much needed moment to consider how she was doing after all this time. She was always so self-assured, but she was also possessed of a beating heart. He wanted to be sure that she was okay, too, and so asked after her in case she had a weight she'd like to unload, marking the first instance of his openly reaching out to her after many little gestures.
Finally, because he was quite enamored with his fellows and enjoying life to the fullest he could possibly make it, he was eager to try a game with Serpilia at the closing party. He honestly believed that everyone fell under the category of hot, as attraction stems from the connections he's bridged for him. Everyone was warm in their own ways, and Serpilia, as he explained, was a blue flame. She could burn hot if approached thoughtlessly, but she was still comforting, pleasant to behold, and not one to expend herself needlessly while carrying consideration for those around her. It was a deeply sentimental metaphor on his end.
Yi Sang respects Serpilia great deal and wishes her all the best. He wouldn't mind discussing robotics with her someday, and he's happy that she with other people.
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She offered the picturesque cherry blossoms in springtime, but his thoughts took him back to the yellow camellias that colored his hometown. Before immolating the League, Dongbaek had told him that a fire from a distance could resemble a flower, so the imagery of a grave in bloom was strong in his mind. Shoko's take on futility was different from his own, though; like Wei Wuxian, she ascribed meaning where Yi Sang failed to see it. Having said that, he was desperate to grasp onto any thread of hope he could find and, in his own way, eagerly asked where she mustered the strength to hold onto that which was fleeting, only for the answer to thoroughly discourage him.
She spoke of how those who scattered would leave memories behind. Rather than think of his erstwhile fellows from the League, he fixated on the resultant insignificance of his existence, because he had nobody. Contrary to her words, he existed in isolation, which then begged the question of whether there was hope for him after all—and his belief in the moment was that there wasn't, at least not in the path of which Shoko spoke.
Upon expressing his doubts about the capacity of an empty world to be filled, she argued that it was a choice to stay isolated, yet it was his very choice that had left him in isolation in the first place by leaving Gubo behind in order to fill that void. Clear though her spoken path was, he thought himself to be already part of the ground and perhaps even buried beneath the camellias as he pardoned himself. This was in part a reference to Dongbaek's lasting impression on him, as well as in another part to the lyrics of his canto's defining song, wherein the words from his perspective say that he was staked to the ground and given warmth by the soil (a grave) as a nod to his deadened state. To her own words about not hiding away too much, he said that he would remember; generally, if he replied in this way it meant that he didn't necessarily agree and was going with the flow out of the belief that his thoughts didn't matter much in the long run.
For all that, he certainly interrupted Shoko and Aventurine over a shot at wordplay with little to no hesitation! He was a bit embarrassed by the lukewarm reception, however, and tried to leave, feeling down on himself for being unable to convey even this much without blunder. Shoko still stopped him for an explanation and requested that he chat her up again sometime, and this marked a trend in how she would reach out to him every so often, which he noticed most of all after the first ceremony. There was some shame when she looked at him for pulling the joke again later, but that she didn't seem to take it as poorly as Aventurine had prior was a small relief.
As for the truth booth, it wasn't bad at all that Luke and Yingying were, by his reckoning, luminous. They burned brightly in each other's company. To Yi Sang, heat is a source of warmth and therefore comfort. It didn't mean anything to him when he could scarcely feel it, but it was a sight to behold between these two players. On his part, the world was colorless in the way the scattered remains of his wings are pale while Sang Yi's were resplendent in their vibrancy and color, reflecting all of their possibilities within glasslike plumes.
While he was initially a little concerned for Shoko at the thought of her needing protection, his curiosity was instantly piqued when she brought up a potential commonality. In general, it was a sign of considerable movement on his end if he expressed interest. Shoko confessed that she didn't really believe what she'd told him, and that she instead thought that it was all right if her beliefs changed. More than their protracted conversation at the gardens, it was this that got through to him, because Yi Sang desperately wants change. Change was the reason he abandoned the familiarity of staying with Gubo despite his unideal circumstances. This was familiar and a point of connection, such that Shoko shot up to his top three candidates for the ceremony. His prospects were few and far between, but that merely stressed how much of an impact she had on him here. From this point onward, he was invested in seeing where Shoko went out of solidarity and of hope that change might fall within his reach if he were to watch her.
That hope promptly went down the drain in the aftermath of the first ceremony, where Yi Sang found himself unable to argue his stance with respect to Yingying, struck so critically by Odile's precise words as he was. Shoko immediately came in to stage an intervention, and, while he saw the potential wisdom in what she had to say, the gulf between this and that seemed only to grow for him. His beliefs weren't going to stop the flow of time. All things would pass, and that included companions. In the end, he was fated for isolation once the game concluded, hence his response that he would continue to walk—instead of flying, resigned to an excruciating cycle of loss and nothingness without end. Someone like Shoko could change, but not him.
Although he beat a sharp retreat into himself after that, he still crawled out from behind the white wall he didn't know was there for Shoko. Isolated though he felt, it was still a fact that he was around more, kinder people than he had been in a while, and their collective company had the effect of coaxing him out of his stupor here and there. The night he cooked, a part of him wanted Shoko to have the decent meal she deserved, except she fed him his own atrocity instead. Yi Sang has a warped sense of taste! And he argues in canon that the notion of burnt is little more than a human construct aimed at stripping the essence of something when it actually remains (he was talking about the potato), so he has a sentimental relationship with certain foods that others might reject.
Chronologically speaking, I would say that the date took place before this meeting in the night. He was much more solemn there, though she gave him a surplus of food for thought. His opinion of Shoko was at its peak from this point, which led to his handling her ghosts later in the week with more care.
Being of a gentle and sentimental nature, Yi Sang felt it would be wrong to simply crash through the apparitions, so he sidestepped them instead. Nanami's tendency to park himself in the periphery and witness the ensuing shenanigans reminded Yi Sang of himself, and how he'd observe the League's interactions within itself fondly. Back then, the air had been clear, because it had felt as if he were flying; those had been the happiest days of his life, which was what he meant to ask Shoko, who mistook his question for whether she'd smoked since her youth. Because it was too troublesome to relay his overlapping thoughts—a lifelong difficulty that had stopped him from fully expressing himself—he abstained from explaining and chose to listen in lieu of talking.
He couldn't fathom the depths of Shoko's pain and numbness. They were beyond his ability to imagine, but he could understand how wearying the things she had to do must have been. A part of him stirred in sorrow over this. In his awkward reluctance to make eye contact, he had chosen to seep instead in his fellows' warm company, so he suggested that they do the same here with the apparitions of Shoko's friends for her sake. Although Yi Sang was lukewarm toward the apparition of his reflection for reasons pertaining to the nature of the illusions, through Shoko and Yingying he could see how beneficial the presences of ghosts could be.
Then they watched Up and he was at first inwardly aghast that she would consider this a happy film. He didn't know how to explain the myriad feelings simmering somewhere in him and, too, lacked the willpower to even start finding the words for them. He let Shoko rest, as she seemed in need of it, while becoming more and more engrossed in Carl's story. Yi Sang is pretty dry when it comes to emotional displays like crying, but he was, in fact, deeply moved by Carl's journey with grief. At the same time, he appreciated Ellie's bright personality and Russell's youthful energy, because he has a soft spot for children, to say nothing of Dug's companionship and the technology associated with the latter's speech. Hearing Shoko's thoughts on it, he realized that this was an appropriate feature for her, too, as someone who'd spent time on the other side of the walls her friends had stood behind.
As an aside, he did have fun with the rapid-fire wordplay. It was, all things considered, a peaceful night.
The balloon rabbit was also all kinds of wrong in terms of proportion and make, but Yi Sang suffered for it. Inflating it wiped almost all of his lung capacity. He hopes now that she liked it.
By their final date, Yi Sang was much more motivated to embody the change he so wanted. He was genuinely relieved that the poodle liked him enough for them to enter the park, else he would've been terribly disappointed to be denied a new experience with Shoko over a failed vibe check. Using the dog's name as his chance to strike, he asked after Shoko and Poppy in his attempt to actively check up on the former after many a week wasted on inaction. Her answer gladdened him, and, in response to her line of questioning, thought his understanding with Yingying could be considered romantic if it meant that he could fly where the air was clear (blue skies) and Yingying could be present to roam as she pleased (all-encompassing fragrance of violet blossoms). As he had no prior frame of reference for romance, this was the best he could riddle out for himself.
Coming from the City, Yi Sang is no stranger to the cruelties exacted by human hands. Thus, he could understand why people might other curse users, even if he didn't want such a thing for Shoko, whose gaze was trained on the things that mattered more. She was inspiring in her straightforward ways, and he opined his concession in that overthinking could do more harm than good. As such, he was immensely grateful for Shoko's attempts at steering him from doing just that by trading words and challenging his narrow horizons until now. Shoko, for all her hurts and exhaustion, was remarkably strong.
As someone who abhors unethical practices, he tried to see where she'd come from in light of the reveal about her stitching a friend's corpse back together to be weaponized. He couldn't imagine that she would have done something so heinous without reason. Putting together the pieces she gave him, he arrived at the understanding that everyone had entered the proverbial ring with full awareness of the stakes involved. Shoko had done what she had to do for the world. She'd been dealt a hand most cruel, and it was not to say that he felt it was a good thing, but he at least sought to acknowledge the wills of those involved, as well as Gojo's humanity, so he bade her to lower those clinical lenses that were blurring her view of such a precious essence. While Yi Sang can't say how he would've fared with Gojo, he would have considered it a privilege to know a friend of Shoko's.
Speaking of friend, Yi Sang's inner thoughts frequently circled around Dongrang throughout the game. Dongrang was a childhood friend with a bleeding heart who'd essentially bled out to his breaking point, and it was necessary for Yi Sang to acknowledge where he himself had erred to grow past his grief. With Shoko, he was constantly reminded of Dongbaek. Dongbaek had been fond of fireworks in her homesickness; the sparkler Shoko lit for him reminded him of those warmer days—of the sweet dream he'd had of Dongrang and Dongbaek through Yingying's lullaby—and it was all the more beautiful for that. For all his ruminating, however, he seldom spoke of them aloud. In fact, this was the second time he spoke of Dongbaek at length, and the first he was doing it completely of his own volition, because he'd been influenced by the food on the first week during his talk with Odile. It was his way of baring himself to Shoko, of sharing something that took much effort to express out of desire to connect with her.
All in all, Yi Sang deeply respects Shoko as a person and a professional. He wants for her happiness and peace, as her heart also deserves the rest after fighting tirelessly for everyone else. He's very pleased that Shoko wants to keep in touch and will definitely be messaging her routinely to see how she's faring. She was, perhaps more than anyone else, a comforting presence in the game, and he hopes one day to return that priceless favor.
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Too, Yi Sang had faced lifelong difficulty when it came to expressing himself. His thoughts were plentiful, and it was such a wearying process to sift through and put them, as well as his deeply sentimental feelings, to words that he'd usually tell someone he wasn't thinking anything. As an abstract thinker, he subscribed to this more than the label of philosopher, which he does eventually accept in canon when he's described as one, but at this point in time his grip on his identity was rather tenuous as he considered himself to be nothing like his seemingly nonexistent thoughts. His frame of mind was also the result of the treatment he'd received from previous company prior to the game, wherein his wishes had been ignored and he, bereft of vitality amid his grief, treated like something to be used. He was a ; though he'd left precisely to breathe life back into himself, he was mired down by such troubles that surfaced throughout his encounter with Ringo.
Even so, he probed if she had ideals that guided her. It turned out that she was a free spirit who lived life as she pleased while dispensing aid to the needy. This was very commendable to Yi Sang, who had always dreamed of flying free, unfettered by the City's cruelties, so that he only to be utterly crippled by a recent metaphorical fall. Her job description was absolutely wild, but, being in the state he was, he took what she told him in stride for the most part. They hailed from different worlds, which meant the possibilities were endless.
What he knew for certain was that Ringo was someone worthy of respect—and who gave him much to think about, because artificial intelligence is the greatest taboo in the City to where entire clans and corporations are wiped from the face of the earth for simply dabbling in it. It was surreal, living in the same residence as she for the next month!
Spin the bottle was as awkward as it could have gotten, but he once again iterated that he was just following the games' rules. The differences in their natures became more pronounced here when Ringo remarked that she wouldn't want to live apathetically, as he was doing. Between this and her vivacious pursuit of the human experience, they were standing on opposite sides of the same river. He couldn't wholly relate, but he could watch and see where her quest would lead her, which more or less persisted during discussions of perfect matches, where he would sit in his dispirited apathy while she poured all of her energy into voicing her calculations aloud.
Yi Sang followed all the numbers and logic, but he stuttered where matters of feeling and the so-called spark were concerned. At the same time, he was resistant to the idea of viewing the individuals behind the matches clinically, so he was uncomfortable with the vernacular of ranking matches after the first ceremony despite seeing the wisdom of crunching numbers. His retreat into his typical answer of "nothing" stemmed more from lack of confidence, though, where as a researcher at heart he didn't want to speak up until he had enough evidence to make his claim, except he had no idea what to make of the mystery algorithm. This in tandem with vibes and gut feeling being so vague for him to define on such short notice drove him to his usual source of frustration, all of which was compounded by lack of motivation to make an effort in the first place. He dug the hole and put himself in it, earning everyone's disappointment, and decided to waste less of their time by focusing instead on Ringo and Furina, in whom he saw considerable compatibility between their values and personalities based on his observations.
His inner thoughts were vindicated by the truth booth, where Ringo and Furina shared such a wholesome moment. They opened up, bared their vulnerabilities before one another, and moved forward together. It was a truly ideal display that he quietly appreciated from the periphery. And it was partly because he thought so highly of them that he and Maya agreed on making the hideous balloon bouquet for them.
Yi Sang was, however, in the pits for most of the second and third weeks. What glimmer of hope he'd imagined seemed to have snuffed out by the end of the first. He felt that everything he did was pointless and ceased seeking even the small entertainment of humor by becoming unresponsive to the wordplay he so loves. His cognition shifted by the third week's midpoint, shortly after which he responded to Ringo as a joke, and from there they had their first active conversation! She asked whether he was . . . a yaoi or a het . . . and he answered decisively. In a way, Ringo and Furina were one of the matches who inspired him to choose Odile for the upcoming ceremony. He was still in the process of coming out of his passivity, so that she took to his words and even involved the group as a ripple effect meant a lot to him. He also liked that he was finally able to engage with Ringo the way she deserved interaction, and it was very exciting.
That energy carried over to the post-ceremony talk, during which he wasn't torn up in the slightest about the probable results and more interested in engaging as many players as possible. He easily agreed that Luka, his other surprise candidate from the night before, was his likely match and used this opportunity to apologize to Ringo, because now that his feelings were out in the open as opposed to buried beneath the metaphorical flowers marking his heart's grave, he could act on the shame stemming from his past behavior. He had no idea what she meant by Yingying's being a good influence. In fact, it had been a joint effort on everyone's part!
In summation, Ringo was someone Yi Sang considered a respectable individual whose very existence was yet another proof of science's miracle. It was novel at times, though he enjoyed her for who she was more, no matter how much he was fumbling in her eyes. He sincerely hopes that she and Furina go on to have all the human experiences they can possibly grasp, and then some.
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The argument he received against it was that he should be more enthusiastic for the sake of the players here to chase love, and that set the tone for how he perceived Edamura. This was someone who felt strongly and considered others, which ended up going hand in hand with what Wei Wuxian would later advise him at the end of the week, so Yi Sang, as was his trend at the time, buckled regardless of how he felt and how much energy it was already taking him to be even this present.
By the second week, his mental health was at an all-time low and the only reason he was functional tied back to the aforementioned instructions. He would have preferred to close his eyes and never wake up again, but he persisted as bade . . . and created the monstrosity he would call bulgogi. He saw nothing wrong with it, because Yi Sang has a bizarre sense of what constitutes a good meal after years of subsisting on expired food! For how much of the pits he was in, his sentimentality was such that he still mourned the meat once it was trashed by Edamura, who went on to demonstrate proper techniques in the kitchen. How much of the lesson stuck remains to be seen, but he did note that Edamura seemed quite knowledgeable and, between this and their first meeting, left the impression that the latter was very caring and reliable. Yi Sang was self-aware enough to know he'd done nothing to endear himself to Edamura, who provided nevertheless.
Then the ghosts appeared. Edamura was uncharacteristically solemn, which prompted the question of whether or not he was all right. Yi Sang was apathetic when it came to his personal happiness, which seemed out of his reach, but he became more responsive whenever someone was hurting as he does not enjoy and has never delighted in seeing others in pain. He thought that Edamura must have been feeling some sort of way, if not outright hurting over the ghost of the woman in the bedroom; in order to alleviate that ache, he offered to move Edamura's things. (This was the precursor to later in the game when it would become clearer that Edamura quieted in the face of pain.) While Yi Sang didn't understand why his ability to read was so funny to him, it was at least good to see him lighten up as they began their walk.
When asked, he explained that Sang Yi, his assigned apparition, was his reflection. The full story of this was that, at the height of his happiness as a member of the League of Nine, where inventors had gathered to showcase their creations, he'd made the mirror with the hopes of continuing to live freely, laughing among friends and fellows. He'd met Sang Yi, his left-handed self from another world, during the tuning phase. In the aftermath of the League's violent collapse, Yi Sang, drowning in his grief, had clung to the mirror and his reflection within. So Yi Sang could see how his obsession with the mirror might not have sounded like such a healthy thing as remarked by Edamura, though he was of the belief that Sang Yi had been good for him in the end. If not for him, he wouldn't have struck out alone in aimless pursuit of somewhere to call home again.
All in all, by the end of the week he considered Edamura to be as he described in the post-ceremony discussion: thoughtful and reliable—a sensitive soul who must feel so much deeper than the surface already suggested. After all, Edamura got on his case about his qualities after Yi Sang had delivered what he thought to be an objective evaluation of himself. It was a kind, if unnecessary, gesture.
And so, he worked diligently on the balloon gift to Edamura, entirely unaware of the beef with beans. He'll offer a heartfelt apology the day realization dawns.
By the fourth week, Yi Sang was healing! Now that he was less trapped in his own thoughts, he became more active at involving himself in others' affairs. When the secrets dropped for the last time, he was concerned for everyone, but particularly for Edamura in the moment the latter went rigid. It was a sign of some sort of hurt, hence the suggestion to get fresh air where it was quieter. Yi Sang did have some things on mind, but his own secret wasn't anything horrifying so much as it was a point of shame for him. Drugged and kept in a white room, the plaything he'd created for laughter had been misappropriated by those using him for harm; even in his depressive and indifferent state, the realization had left him feeling violated by his compatriot. While he wasn't proud of his complicity in the perpetration of violence against others, no matter how unknowingly, by this point he'd come to terms with much of what had happened to him.
Edamura's wound, however, seemed raw still. He felt deeply. He was caring and loving, but also resentful and crying out still behind his easygoing smiles. Yi Sang is no proponent of violence, so he refrained from commenting overmuch on whatever had taken place between Edamura and Edamura's father; however, he'd once had a friend on whose suffering he hadn't lingered nearly long enough to see the extent of the cracks in Dongrang's heart, and he was determined not to repeat the costly mistake with Edamura, who'd been nothing but kind to him, regardless of his true nature. As he heard more, Yi Sang thought that he could understand the grief to a point, hence his comment about how time came to a stop for those still mourning. This was why he asked if Edamura had an item to which he was partial, because he wanted to see if he could make something like it in order to raise his mood.
From this point onward, Yi Sang was extra attentive to Edamura, who was in such visible pain during the truth booth that he decided to throw a bone by commenting on the coffee. He thought that Edamura had a big heart despite its darker facets, and he strove to cherish that. The resultant response was a bit overwhelming for him, but he was glad to see a smile on Edamura's face again.
Their bonding continued in the final party, where he made a beeline for Edamura's skewers. He chose chicken as a callback to their conversation at the kitchen, which he'd brought up then out of nostalgia for the friends with whom he'd once enjoyed the treats. As Edamura was considering others for his wish even now, Yi Sang made a wish of his own that the former's thoughts would be conveyed clearly in support of Edamura's struggles with the liar persona. Only good could come of honesty from a heart that had always been transparent in its capacity to give. Edamura was so very human, and the sentimentalist in Yi Sang was fond of that. He spoke from experience of the joys to be found in the air after a sunshower, which is how he describes his treasured time with the League. Now he had a new fellow in Edamura, with whom he was eager to indulge the appetite he'd been lacking the first time they'd attempted connecting over food.
Incidentally, he likened Edamura to a kindling at hot or not, because he defines attraction based on emotional attachment. Yi Sang considers himself not necessarily a source of warmth, but as someone who feels keenly the comforting heat of those around him, which is why he was impossible to offend for those rating him. The kindling represented Edamura's desire to be truer to himself—a humble wish that, with encouragement, could be kindled into a striking and caressing fire. Yi Sang, knowing what he does, wishes above all else for Edamura to thrive and be honest with himself.
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Luka, on the other hand, was allegedly here out of curiosity. His motives were unclear, and Yi Sang let the blurred image be. The mood shifted once his passivity became more apparent, though he wasn't lying when he said that he'd refuse orders under certain circumstances. It was just that his threshold for triggering resistance was incredibly high, as it had taken a threat to Sang Yi's life for Yi Sang to dig in his heels despite the futility of it. At the end of the day, he was far too willing to go with what others wanted of him, and Luka seemed to have clear thoughts about this.
When it came to the truth booth, Yi Sang saw more commonalities between Luka and Yingying, hence his choice to vote for Luka over Ringo. They were both in their own way: Luka had a talent for expression while Yingying breathed life into what had passed. Having said that, he was beginning to arrive at the impression that Luka was highly performative, and it became increasingly clearer that the latter was just a vessel for the love others had for themselves. That love wasn't necessarily for Luka, who performed based on the audience's wishes. Luka's words to Yingying at the truth booth carried double meanings, so much so that Yi Sang lingered on the garden imagery for some time with sentimental lenses and an odd sense of foreboding.
Upon his return, Luka likened a song to weaving a tale of a moment That expression spoke to Yi Sang, and he started to wonder when the focus turned to the audience and other individuals again.
Come the second week, he was entirely out of his depth at the nail salon. He had no idea what to do, so he simply followed Luka's instructions. The tongue-in-cheek brackets were so bad here. Yi Sang could not speak for Mizi, but this was certainly his worst week by far! After growing the roots of attachment and being reminded of how pointless doing so was, he couldn't feel excitement. He would have preferred to die on the spot and be done with it. But, for all of his intrusive thoughts on death, he still made note of observations like the discoloration of Luka's extremities. Sloth and the fact that Luka seemed fine were the biggest reasons he didn't say anything.
More importantly, it was during the date that Yi Sang realized he was with the real Luka, who craved only Maya's attention. He considered Maya a bright spot for her ability to lighten a darker world, though in this particular context she was also someone who wouldn't fill Luka with light for her own gain. She was a nurturer who would surely give light for Luka to hold onto, so on second thought it made sense to Yi Sang why Luka was drawn to her.
Hence, the penguin on the third week. By this point, Yi Sang had definitely noticed some unspoken friction between them, but it still didn't matter when he was wallowing in the pits of apathy. Putting the matter of his hopelessness aside, he focused on passing out the souvenirs and was treated to the incredible sight of an overjoyed Luka. It was pure, raw, and wholly innocent. Deciding that he'd give Maya and Luka more time together in the immediate aftermath, Yi Sang tried to bear with the passing stress of handing out the rest of the balloon gifts on his own. All things considered, it wasn't too terrible when it was difficult for him to hang onto any feeling, good or bad, but the fact was that he made the effort for Luka in the first place. It didn't hurt for Maya to be doted on some, too.
Then he was completely caught off guard in the middle of the pre-ceremony discussion. Pursuing Luka in his bid to be a more active participant, he ended up juggling Odile and Luka as his candidates for the ceremony. He had reasons to believe in both, and each choice was rooted in deep sentimentality. In pursuit of his ideal self, he stayed with Odile while resolving to chase Luka in the following week to give him the dignity of being looked at more organically, as opposed to based on what cold logic seemed to suggest, now that he could intuit how important it was for Luka to be seen. His desire to view players beyond the scope of the game was the main reason he wasn't bothered by the improbability of his match with Odile after the ceremony, and also because, as a researcher, data were data regardless. He followed the statistics throughout the game, and there was a gain either way.
Going into the fourth week, he sincerely wanted to know Luka as a person in order to understand him. Because Luka had brought up choices on their first meeting, Yi Sang called back to it out of care for what they'd shared up to this point, only to be dismissed out of hand. After going back and forth for a bit, he realized that nothing he said would ever be enough for Luka, who was lashing out in what he presumed to be hurt, so he revised his approach and promised to take anything Luka gave him as his heartfelt concession. Ultimately, he didn't wish to influence Luka like those before him had, which was why he'd brought up the garden. Luka had been cultivated, and Yi Sang, who was growing back into his own personhood, had no interest in perpetuating that cruelty.
In the end, Luka's performance at the ceremony spurned him and Yi Sang was fine with that, because it was Luka's self-expression. It was Luka's tale. Yi Sang accepted it out of a sense of responsibility and also respect for Luka as an individual. Going forward, he'll respect Luka's wishes by staying out of his way. Bitter as their standing is, Yi Sang is extremely appreciative of some of Luka's qualities and what he did on Yingying's behalf, so, despite the cutting truth of that night in the gardens, he'll always regard him highly on that front. While he doesn't regret his choices, he understands how they might have been hurtful and desires to impart no more pain unto Luka, because the heart that loves so passionately should get to thrive. His one regret is that he didn't buck his apathy sooner to give Luka a better, longer look. Everyone in the game was important to Yi Sang in some shape or form, and that included him. If nothing else, he's glad that Luka can be seen by Maya and love her in turn.
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That being said, perfunctory as their first meeting was, Yi Sang actually stewed heavily on what Rom had to say about lingering spirits. Grief-stricken though he still was by the collapse of the League of Nine, an inventors' organization of which he'd been a part, he had no idea which, if any, erstwhile member had survived the explosion aside from himself and Gubo. All he remembered was the immolated face of his friend, who'd set off the explosive in protest, and he wondered if she'd succumbed to her injuries soon after. If so, had her final moment been one of immense pain and regret? Did she linger among the League's remains still? Despite these burning questions, he lacked the energy to voice them, or he might have inquired about demises brought on by fires. Out of courtesy, and simply because he couldn't be bothered to protest, he opted instead to hear about Rom's methods in calming ghosts.
The next time they ran into each other was at spin the bottle, where Yi Sang specified lips out of ignorance. He automatically assumed that this was where they were supposed to kiss and, as was customary for him, ceded full control to Rom. While the privacy was an unusually considerate touch, the peck was what stood out as surprising after the more impassioned exchanges surrounding it. As he was slowly warming up to the novelty of friendly company, he found himself a little embarrassed upon accidentally implying a want for a longer kiss, but in actuality he was growing an impression of Rom that was of someone who was a man of his word and rather transactional in the sense of treating everything as business. It was, he supposed, not too far off from how he himself was. Going into the first ceremony where Messmer was chosen, Rom struck him overall as highly enigmatic yet deliberate.
The second week took them on a date to the ice cream parlor, where Yi Sang straight-up refused to muster even a semblance of enthusiasm. This was by far his worst time in the game, having tentatively put a shard of his true feelings forward at the ceremony to questionable results. He hadn't conveyed himself clearly, which had been a lifelong struggle of his to where he'd long given up by defaulting to "nothing" if asked what was on his mind, and the resultant frustration in tandem with the reminder of all things' ephemerality killed what hope he might have been growing. Thoroughly discouraged, the void in his chest remained gaping insofar that he could barely feel anything. He wasn't in pain, because even that was beyond him. He was just tired, which was why he wasn't troubled in the slightest over the idea of being kicked out for a dissatisfactory performance in the game. At this point, he was persisting simply out of obligation to authority (Wei Wuxian) and to his fellow players. If he was cut off, then so be it. The end result would have been the same whether he stayed or left: Either way, he was "nothing." And poor Rom was left to deal with that.
While Yi Sang noticed that Rom's attention was somewhat divided throughout the date, he neglected to comment on it due to the above. His inclination toward slothful behavior was in full force, and his general reluctance to make decisions without careful deliberation aggravated his noncommittal actions like his answer to the question of flavor. What would have ordinarily been an exciting venture filled with discovery was little more than a chore. That said, he was still making observations of Rom and even stirred enough to offer help if the latter found his position in the game precarious. For all of his passivity, in early canon Yi Sang is most likely to come out of his depressive stupor when someone is hurting before retreating just as swiftly. At any rate, he would have followed whatever Rom deemed necessary to persuade the audience, because, like Luka, Rom had a performative air about him and seemed well-versed in such a practice; however, it was true that Yi Sang's disinterest would have been apparent regardless of what they did. All the same, that Rom had given thought to the staff when considering the flavors of ice cream to order, as well as his inquisitive nature, suggested to Yi Sang that Rom was a rather thoughtful person.
(As Yi Sang is not haunted by anyone, I neglected to comment on Rom's permissions post. One day, he might ask Rom, with no small amount of hesitation, if he actually is, then be relieved once he hears that his erstwhile fellows aren't clinging to him. Perhaps they are alive, and he'll see them again sooner than later. Knowing this much would ease his heart, filling it with immense gratitude to Rom.)
And, because he didn't participate much in the game's discussions in favor of observing and listening, he absorbed the impromptu lesson on slangs from Rom as a bystander. Parroting some of the jargon back at him at the end would be his way of expressing his sincerity by trying to meet the people familiar with Rom in Rom's way.
Anyway, Yi Sang's impression of Rom grew steadily over the next couple weeks. On the third, it was Rom who took note of Yi Sang's breathlessness and asked if he wanted to sit down while passing out balloon souvenirs with Maya. It was a quiet consideration, the same as when Rom put the balloon hat on, which Yi Sang wasn't expecting. It was, perhaps deep down, nice. And, though Maya deserved the lion's share of the credit for proposing that they make balloons for everyone in the first place, Rom doubled down on how Yi Sang should claim some more of it for himself. All of Rom's actions overflowed with attention, even if Yi Sang wasn't in the mood to fully appreciate it. At the very least, he noticed.
As for the hwangcha, he was a bit warmed by the nostalgia of a taste reminiscent of his hometown. He didn't know for sure that Rom had been involved, but might have hazarded a guess based on locational clues in the moment.
By the time they all visited the onsen, Yi Sang was fresh off the boat of a paradigm shift and anxiously eager to approach his fellow players. It all felt odd and new to him, but that was part of the appeal. Yi Sang had created the mirror, because he'd wished to fly—to live out the ideal dream where he wouldn't have to exploit others for survival as he had in the City. Yeonsim, the mirror, has two names depending on the characters used to read it. Later in canon, Yi Sang posits that its truest name is This is why he bears a deep affection for all of his possibilities, because by connecting to them and accessing that endless potential he can soar. He'd go on to share this revelation at the third ceremony, but his other burgeoning sentiment was that the home he so desperately sought could be found in people, too. Yi Sang is fondest of the sky after a sunshower; the air had been exceptionally clear during the days of his membership in the League, because of the innocent laughter and warmth he'd shared with those around him. Realizing this, he wanted more than ever to connect with the game's players in their remaining time together as opposed to lamenting the eventual separation. They had imparted their wisdom unto him and saved him in doing so with their collective warmth; ergo, he was much more responsive to Rom and expressed an active interest in talking to him this time around. In his eagerness to learn more about everyone by reading their cards, he was so engrossed that he failed to realize how hot he was, similar to how he'd once forgone sleep and sustenance in pursuit of his technological passion. And, because he was growing more attentive, he received the water from Rom with much appreciation.
By the fourth week, he was certain of Rom's kindness. Like Edamura, Rom's heart was honest in his intentions, even though his words were often evasive, if not outright dismissive. Now that Yi Sang could express himself a little more confidently, he managed to convey this observation to a point. There were heartbreaking revelations with their final secrets disclosed, and he simply couldn't accept how much Rom othered himself. Different, abnormal—those were mere societal constructs. Rom was Rom. He was a human being with a beating heart, and Yi Sang reached out in what small way he could by offering his heartfelt thanks.
At the farewell, he humored Rom with a message to the masses. While he isn't terribly interested in engaging with a large audience as a performer, he'd be chuffed to show up for a stream in order to spend more time with Rom in the future, even if he won't understand what the latter's saying half the time! Yi Sang is of the belief that he didn't capitalize nearly enough on his time with Rom during the game, so he'd strive to make up for it now, especially now that he's more aware of the latter's heart. He truly believes that Rom is a good, loving person. There was nothing to forgive from the final ceremony. While he understands why Rom's parents did what they did, he also wants Rom to recognize that there's far more to life than that singular path far removed from others. As such, he's incredibly happy for Rom and Edamura. They're an ideal match for coaxing each other out of his respective shell, and Yi Sang wishes them nothing but peace and comfort going forward.
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Yi Sang had just left the white square, where Sang Yi had told him that he could That walk had led to the game, and, though there was no mirror of his make here, there was a window—a screen beyond which the faces of fellow players lay. The mirror's predecessor had been the glass window; hence, he remarked aloud to himself, perhaps as a force of habit, as if he were still talking to his reflection, whom he'd left behind. This was why he answered Aventurine's question that a and went on to say that he should instead be focusing on the players pictured and present around him. The window was a glimpse into heretofore unseen worlds, and, unlike a mirror, it could be unlatched to interact with the possibilities beyond. As Aventurine lacked the context for Yi Sang's thoughts, however, there was a disconnect.
There had been no windows in the white square. In fact, Yi Sang referred to the room as a square, because he'd been unable to perceive the door on the wall until the very end. But, because he was caught between exhaustion and indifference despite striking out with a desperate grip on the faint thread of hope, he couldn't bring himself to bother correcting the misconception of rooms with panes. If nothing else, the miscommunication was a reminder that the past he'd put behind him mattered little in the present, as it was now history. It was also silly of him to continue piping up to Sang Yi when he'd made the decision to go, so he turned his focus to the game.
Seeing Aventurine's profile, he noted the discrepancy in the name written to the one uttered aloud during a time everyone was together. As "Kakavasha" was never spoken around him, he defaulted to the popular Aventurine without asking questions. Plenty were posed to him, though, one of which was about whether anyone struck him as a potential The game's primary draw to Yi Sang had been the promise of something more. Romance wasn't special to him, but he had been and still was clinging to the hope of something, anything that would allow him to live on in an existence that had lost all meaning. There was neither joy nor pain, only a void through which all things fell. As such, while he declined to answer in regard to the algorithm about which he knew nothing, he responded to Aventurine based on the faintest stimulation over the things that had once ignited passion in his heart: research (Odile) and engineering (Poppy). These were brains he thought he might want to pick down the line; it was, at the end of the day, a passing interest.
Aventurine, meanwhile, was much more private about his own thoughts. Instead, he went on to tease that Yi Sang might be their first visitor to the truth booth, with which the latter took no issue. In talking whether he would do anything he was told, he honestly replied that he had no reason to refuse an order. Upon the argument that an unwillingness to do so was reason enough, he simply said that he'd remember the words, which was the sort of noncommittal answer he gave to others as an acknowledgment without necessarily internalizing anything. Truthfully, he had pushed back at some point in his recent past, only for his wishes to have gone completely ignored. His thoughts hadn't and didn't matter. That very refusal had brought him to the estate with feet that ached so tremendously that he was sapped, drained of any sort of anticipation when it was easier to bend with the wind. Aventurine cautioned against giving others reasons to use him, but such a thing had already happened, and Yi Sang readily admitted to it as much. Exploitation and abuse were commonplace in the City, and he was accustomed to the condition of "being taxidermied," of going without vitality and consideration. Gubo and his colleague had influenced him as they'd pleased; while there were things he hadn't wanted to do, he'd known that he would eventually buckle under the weight of apathy and concede . . . but Sang Yi's words had reached him first.
In regard to the circumstances under which he'd arrived at the estate, what he gave was the cold truth: His feet were hurting; it was raining; and he felt so isolated and crippled that he would have accepted any shelter. Even if (and probably) nothing were to come of it, the game was a way out of those miserable conditions and a place for his feet to rest until it was time to resume the despairing march for somewhere to call home. He'd given up on the wish quickly and finding love wasn't the goal, but was what he craved deep down.
Then Aventurine revealed that he hailed from a technologically advanced world, and Yi Sang was instantly taken with the idea of vessels that can fly. There are no aircrafts in the City! It's far too cramped for that. Airplanes don't exist, so the idea of a spacefaring vessel was incredible to Yi Sang, who wished above all else to fly, even if just once more, except that to him was nothing more than a futile dream. Still, he was moved by the thought that anyone could soar in Aventurine's world.
And then Yi Sang ruined the mood by butting in on Aventurine's conversation with Shoko for his love of wordplay. The lukewarm response left him just a bit embarrassed. He had always been an oddball, and for the most part people throughout his life had humored him; this time, however, Shoko was visibly confused while Aventurine was making some effort to play it off. The resultant awkwardness was too much that Yi Sang beat a hasty retreat, thinking that he'd annoyed Aventurine at the least.
Spin the bottle fared only a touch better. By virtue of being himself, Yi Sang effectively killed any sense of romance whenever it was his turn. was the recurring word up to this point, and he found it strange that anyone would grouse at it for him when, previously, any level of excitement to where he would become uncooperative had upset the people seeking to use him. After all, he was the "taxidermied genius." It was different for people to want him to be expressive. It was odd, but also part of the reason he slowly began to warm up to everyone and become a little more talkative over the week. As this particular game was designed to test everyone's connections with one another, he thought every experience would be unique. Surprisingly, the experience with Aventurine was gentler than he'd expected, and the words that followed were food for thought. Not only was Aventurine handing out something without asking for returns, he even asked if the kiss had sufficed. It was a game, and that much effort wasn't a requirement. That he did it nevertheless spoke for Aventurine's character.
By the ceremony, Yi Sang was developing the impression that Aventurine was a giver between the unsolicited advices, the kiss, and the decision to shop for him. The last bit was one that didn't ask for Yi Sang's thoughts, but the gesture was a selfless one. Aventurine even talked about dipping into his own bank in case they didn't receive an allowance from production for the date! This was odd behavior to someone from the City, where it's every man for himself. While there are good people, bending so far backward for a near stranger is unheard of. Even Yi Sang, upon abandoning his hometown for greener pastures, had carried a great deal of guilt over the fact that his attempt at a better life for himself had cost someone else. This is why flying is such an earnest dream of his, as it's a manifestation of his desire to no longer take anything from anyone.
Come the second week, their date was the first of several for Yi Sang, who was in sore need of a proper wardrobe—not that he was particularly self-conscious, having little capacity to care at this juncture more than any other. After the misstep at the ceremony the other night, he felt that his efforts would ultimately amount to nothing and that time would see all things reduced to passing history, so he just about stopped caring entirely. Most of his functionality was owed to Wei Wuxian, whom he viewed as the authority of the set, and out of respect for his fellow players. The shopping trip was unnecessary, but he went, because he would not deprive Aventurine of the experience for the sake of the game.
I said that he wore mostly sandals in the brackets based on the cultural inspiration of his district in the City. While his fashion now is very occidental, his garbs were probably more traditional in his hometown, and I also yanked his shoe size based on the real life national average. 🤓 Moving from S Corp. to T Corp., which bears a western aesthetic, he is familiar with kicks! Overall, his style of draping his shoulders with coats is likely born from his native fashion where outer robes are prevalent, and some of his reflections are seen wearing those in their respective mirror worlds.
At any rate, he did not intend to abuse production's money, and so settled for the one pair of shoes that was comfortable. This didn't stop Aventurine from going on a shopping spree with clothes, but his eye for the college professor look did generally align with Yi Sang's personal style, even if he wouldn't have spoken up much. Whatever Aventurine saw fit to hand him was good enough in his indifferent mood.
Chatting, he learned that Aventurine was an Given how comfortably and confidently he presented himself, Yi Sang, who was much shier and faint-hearted in comparison, took such a display as the result of experience. As he explained, he saw Aventurine as the type who couldn't let things be. If he saw something worthy of investment, he would pour all of himself into it—people included. This was easy to share, as it was an observation and not an abstract thought rooted in sentimentality, which he had a harder time expressing and was why he shut down the line of query about his feelings on their date. He had zero thoughts. This was his lifelong coping mechanism, even before things had gone so wrong, where he would exhaust himself trying to put word to his many thoughts that he'd simply answer that he wasn't thinking anything. Here, it didn't matter if anything involved him, because nothing would change. It wasn't that he was reluctant to regard himself, but more that he was drowning in his apathy, unable to hold onto passing emotions for more than a second. Having said that, he did have some semblance of a hard line where harming people was out of the question. His disbelief that Aventurine could do anything he'd find himself averse to was specifically in reference to the man himself: Aventurine seemed very kind, so much so that Yi Sang couldn't imagine Aventurine's acting selfishly in a way he might have considered repulsive.
Yi Sang pushed back on Aventurine's impression of him, stating that Stripped of his personhood and his thoughts, he was nothing. The subject of mirrors was a loaded one for him, but he also believed himself to be completely alone in a darkened world ever since he'd left Gubo, his last remaining compatriot from their shared past, drifting with nowhere to call home and nobody to whom he could return. If anything, it stood out more that Aventurine sounded to have a low assessment of himself. It was true, however, that Aventurine was physically here at his side, so, with nothing against him, Yi Sang set the matter of reflections aside to focus on the date.
Then the ghosts arrived. Yi Sang wasn't actually hurt by the sight of Sang Yi; if anything, he was as upset as he could be to see his free self caught in an illusory loop, regardless of how aware the latter was. Still, he allowed himself to be steered away by Aventurine, who accurately noted Sang Yi's significance.
Sang Yi is extremely important to Yi Sang. They'd met when Yi Sang had been at his happiest, envious of Sang Yi's resplendent wings that represented the freedom he'd so dearly wished to grasp by making the mirror. Following the untimely and violent end of those days, Yi Sang had fallen into a grief-stricken slump, through which Sang Yi had spoken to him in order to ease his remorse and depression. Eventually, seeing that Yi Sang had grown bereft of all hope, Sang Yi had presented him with two options: Leave with awareness of the cruelties being perpetrated by his technology, or overdose on the sedatives Gubo had been giving him and return to the status quo. Upon hiding the pills, what Yi Sang had thought to be a white square had actually been a room, which he'd only noticed upon regaining his senses. So he'd left. Yi Sang had wanted to change, but it was Sang Yi who'd put the means into his hands, and for that reason he attributed his presence in the game to him.
Seeing Aventurine express such care over a mere apparition, Yi Sang decided to ask if he should acknowledge or ignore the ghost assigned to the former. He felt it necessary to ask, because, back in the white square, he'd requested that Sang Yi turn away when he did as reflections would, but he had no knowledge of what Aventurine was feeling or thinking. It turned out that the individual was Aventurine's sister, who'd passed. Yi Sang could only relate to the deaths of parents and potentially friends, but he understood still the terrible grief of loss. Out of consideration for that grieving heart, he promised to greet her for Aventurine's sake. While Yi Sang was highly suicidal at this point, he has never enjoyed seeing others in pain, and that was why he moved.
At the second ceremony, Yi Sang agreed with Nico's words about Aventurine, who shone like a star. What the latter had said about companions and mirrors on the date applied to him and not Yi Sang, who'd turned his back on the possibilities and dreams reflected in the mirror.
Their next date took them to wine and cheese tasting! Yi Sang didn't drink much in the game. He does drink, but I imagine he didn't do it terribly often. While he and his friends must have gone out to eat and drink together back in the day, upon moving to T Corp. they'd devoted many of their spare hours into their collective hobby of inventing and discovering for that sort of outing. Now, he was somewhat wary of going without his mental faculties after spending an indeterminable amount of time in a drugged haze within the white square. There had been no way for him to keep track of the time, and he hadn't cared enough to even bother trying. And there definitely hadn't been wine in the white square, else the interaction with the pills would have killed him.
As Aventurine spoke, Yi Sang realized that the former was prone to emotionally investing in all matters. (Incidentally, was referring to soju.) Like on their previous date, he gave a rundown of his observations on the wine he was tasting, but topped it off with a sentimental conclusion about how the taste would This was their unique experience, and it wasn't just the flavor of the wine he was noticing.
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At the same time, Yi Sang loves stars. In his hometown, he would lie on the ground and stargaze at night. When he made the mirror and showcased it to his fellows at the League, the possibility its surface reflected was one of stars in the night sky. It allowed him to feel as if he were soaring, and it was his happiest experience in recent memory. In summation, his sentiment toward stars meant he viewed what Nico and Aventurine shared as something truly special, and he, alongside Maya, chose to honor that by gifting them with a pair of malformed balloon lovebirds. They were worthless, but the thought was there. After all, even if Yi Sang claimed to be nothing without thoughts of his own, his sentiments still remained.
By the onsen, Yi Sang was starting to shift his cognition and regain some of his long buried hope. He was finding purchase by trying to be more social from this point onward, so he was more emotive and responsive compared to before. As he wanted to connect even more with his fellow players, he was perusing the cards to learn more about them when Aventurine approached. Yi Sang, however, is an awful liar and all but immediately outed his own secret, which was frankly mortifying for him. He quietly pleaded to move on and was gobsmacked by what Aventurine considered a He pushed back on this straightaway, stressing that it meant something for his late father's clothes to have persisted in embracing Aventurine when the man himself could not. Yi Sang is not so naive that he doesn't understand the necessity of sacrifice in the name of progress. He himself had left everything behind in his hometown to seek a better, more stable life with his compatriots. It was because of this and the additional losses he'd endured later down the road that he recognized the significance of holding onto something. Yi Sang has never cared about wealth, and he'd let go of his last tether to the past via Gubo, had left without shoes and walked hours in the rain barefoot until he was ravaged by the pain—and as a result of the consequent emptiness and despondency, understood deep in his heart just how much those clothes must have meant to Aventurine, who was heartrendingly gentle and determined.
As the week progressed, Yi Sang grew increasingly concerned for Aventurine over the truth booth; thus, he asked after him at the rager before torturing him with his obliviousness toward Yingying's romantic advances. Yi Sang has an odd sense of humor where, at one point in canon, a fellow of his lectures everyone for getting their lefts and rights mixed up, to which his answer is, "I am . . . left-handed . . . " He is not. This is his awkward attempt at cracking a joke in a shameful moment. In this case, his statement of his age was more of a confused response, but what incidental humor there was to his words was somewhat reminiscent of this.
At any rate, he feels that he owes Aventurine and Luka a great deal with respect to Yingying. Without them, he would never have picked up on her intentions. Aventurine respectfully kept himself from relaying too much, so Yi Sang appreciatively shifted the focus back to the former. Worried as he was, he opted not to force the subject of Nico if Aventurine wasn't willing, and so they discussed the ceremony instead. He was much more optimistic this time around and believed they were performing reasonably well, as it was really a matter of trial and error to suss out the patterns at this point. He also learned that Aventurine had tried to hand his wish over to Yingying, which was yet another touching gesture that demonstrated his kind heart. Quite the businessman, indeed! Aventurine was always investing in others, so much so that Yi Sang questioned him in regard to himself. Upon glimpsing the heavy burden Aventurine carried on his shoulders, however, he abstained from pushing in this very inebriated scene and decided to revisit the topic later.
Consequently, the fourth and final week saw Yi Sang's determination to watch over Aventurine more than ever before. He was determined to give him a good time, so he looked for ways to cater the grilling experience to him. Bizarre as Yi Sang's sense of taste is, it was fortunate that Aventurine personalized his own lettuce wraps. Of course, it was also pleasant to share what he enjoyed about his native food after being forced to leave his hometown for survival. Canon reveals that Yi Sang had terribly missed rice at T Corp. to where one of his fellows had almost believed that he'd gone back to their hellish home district for it. It was a taste of home, and this particular date reflected Yi Sang's heartfelt hopes for his struggling possibilities across the mirror worlds—that they all throughout their lives. This was what he wished for Aventurine, too.
Alas and alack, the peace did not last! The last set of secrets to drop made such a splash that it might as well have been a flood. Aventurine was doing poorly, so Yi Sang sought to talk to him. He probed about Aventurine's luck, and, while religion has very little to no legitimate presence in the City, he understood that his friend—something Aventurine had been calling him all along, even if as a formality—had survived an unfortunate amount of hardships. Hearing about how Aventurine's worth was allegedly a handful of copper coins left Yi Sang with such a visceral sense of wrongness that he immediately fought back. What Aventurine had said on their first date still held true, but it was in line with Yi Sang's recent epiphany—that they must keep going, regardless of the despair and challenges that awaited them, and only in doing so could they live on and seize the value in the moment. Aventurine, he thought, should be free to decide his own lot in life. In turn, Yi Sang's heart vibrated to Aventurine's request that they take the faithful step together, and he finally voiced the sentiment that had been brewing within him all week: This is, in fact, the iconic line of his story in canon, as well as a reference to his speech at the third ceremony, where he paid homage to Aventurine's prior wisdom by speaking of a companion who would rise with oneself in place of walls, so that With a companion, both smiles and the stars could fall within reach.
As the tension from this night lingered, and he couldn't fault anyone for feeling the way they did, Yi Sang did what he could by trying to soothe Aventurine through the quiet gesture of passing on a cup of coffee during the final truth booth. He continued to keep an eye on him, and was moved by how open and vulnerable Aventurine allowed himself to be in the face of Nico's heartfelt performance. It was sweet, honest, and precious. Yi Sang is noted in canon to have This was in part why he kept the observation to himself as opposed to put Aventurine on the spot. It was Aventurine and Nico's moment, besides.
At the farewell, they differed in the sense that Yi Sang, in his sloth, had once let things go far too easily. He'd bend with the wind, giving everything a slantwise glance that allowed the things that mattered most to fester. After realizing where he'd erred with his erstwhile fellows over the course of the game, he was resolved not to repeat those mistakes. He now wants to hang on and be present for Aventurine, a dear friend, whenever the latter might have need of him for as long as he can, no matter the struggles involved. As for Yi Sang's unfinished business, he'll most definitely be needing help once he returns to the City, lest he be murdered in cold blood within an hour. His promise from the post-game group chat will also always remain: Aventurine need not make up excuses for meeting, but simply ask for him, and Yi Sang shall be there.
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The eye contact was intense in their first encounter! Yi Sang, who's remarked in canon to have spent his early years staring at the ground when interacting with others, avoided Poppy's gaze like his life depended on it. His avoidance stemmed from the opposite face of his desire for metaphorical warmth in the company of others, which was the fear of being burned by their eyes, which he considered to be His concession with himself was to "seep" in their company instead, enjoying their companionship without meeting them head-on, and that was, for the most part, how he approached Poppy until the final week of the game.
I put down so many titles in his profile, because they told his story in a way that would introduce tidbits he otherwise wouldn't have shared. They were also arranged in order of chronology and then relevance. He'd been an architect first, during his tenure of which he'd engineered as a hobby on the side, and research had been a part of that package until it had become his occupation by something akin to force. As much as he loves research, he'd let the surviving piece of technology that had tethered him to his happiest memories go in order to walk free and eventually join the game. He'd always been and still remained a philosopher, whereas he'd been a medic as necessary, coming from a district of intense political and economic turmoil.
He didn't do a good job of explaining any of this. At this time, Yi Sang was grappling with the inherent despair and isolation of his situation against the faintest hope for change that had driven him to strike out alone. He is, actually, rather talkative by nature once he gets going, but in his emotional numbness and mental exhaustion couldn't be bothered to expound on the very basics, so he gave Poppy the barest minimum. His answer to her question about how he'd gotten fired from research was an earnest attempt at keeping her from knowing too much, though: The thing he'd been handling—the mirror of his making that allows the holder to peer into and interact with alternate realities—wasn't dangerous so much as the people involved in the project. He'd been asked not to discuss the details, and the City is bankrupt enough of morality that he refused to tell Poppy anything for fear of jeopardizing her safety. He had, however, really taken the walk he told her about after he could no longer cope with that taxidermied way of life, rotting away in a white square by the people keeping him drugged almost senseless every day.
That was behind him, so he moved on to a more relevant subject—Poppy herself. He raised the fact that she, too, was an engineer, which was a piece of trivia that made her stand out upon his perusal of the profiles. He either thought of or brought her name up at least twice across other threads when discussing with fellow players if anybody interested him. It was the slightest stimulation of curiosity, sparked by mutual appreciation of creation, that was like a flicker of life. Despite the state of him, he did listen intently to what Poppy had to say about her projects.
In fact, he was somewhat baffled to hear about her partner. (And he was deeply grateful that she moved on from talking about her sex life as soon as it had come out. No, thank you.) While Yi Sang has zero interest in business and the networking aspect of engineering, he's very into technology to where he could understand that she was doing what she needed in order to realize her dream. When the League of Nine, the inventors' organization of which he'd been a member, had been struggling to make ends meet for the lease, he'd immediately offered all of his earnings to maintain their place. He'd never enjoyed his vocation as an architect due to the exploitative consequences of his coveted blueprints, but he'd known the necessity of having a stable job if he wished to continue doing what brought him happiness, so he never judged Poppy for her reasons. He couldn't and wouldn't.
In a way, it was envious just how much of an ideal participant she was. Her ambitions had brought her to the estate, but she also didn't mind the prospect of meeting someone and was even considering uses for the wish. Yi Sang had dismissed the wish almost as soon as he'd come up with one, deeming the return of his lost wings nothing more than a futile dream. He wasn't here for romance, but for the idea of something of something that might give him a reason to continue living after walking barefoot in the rain for so long as to be in excruciating pain. He, by all rights, shouldn't have been in the game despite being a willing player. And here was Poppy, alive and vivacious and ambitious.
His reason wasn't normal, and he took it in stride by cracking a tried joke about his name. But his roundabout answer to her question of change was a resounding yes. He didn't want to be like this. He wanted to feel again, to find color and light in the world around him, to escape the darkness of isolation. If not for that, he wouldn't have hidden the pills and walked out at the first chance he had. It was all too much to put into words, and Poppy didn't probe, which he appreciated. As vocal as she was about her opinions, it was clear to him that she also listened.
During the truth booth discussion, he spoke up for Poppy once asked what he thought of himself and her as a potentially due to his poverty and her desire for money. Although he didn't say so, he thought this was an unjust assessment of her, so he leaned in on the observations he'd made during their talk by stating that she appeared in want of acceptance and support more than anything else. The reasons he didn't comment on their potential match was because he wasn't confident in anything due to the mysterious nature of the algorithm, and also because he didn't think he had the capacity to support her in the way she needed. It was already taking great effort on his end to wake up and move around every day, even if he was warming up to the presence of friendly company over the days. And so, when it seemed that Poppy was getting what she craved from Shoko at the ceremony, the impression quietly stuck and Yi Sang, over the weeks, would increasingly come to like them as a pair, matches notwithstanding.
Truly, nobody was stronger than Poppy on the early night of the second week . . . I'm pretty sure that Yi Sang has always been the way he is now, in the sense that expressing his numerous thoughts had always been a struggle to where he wouldn't say much out of frustration and weariness. Poppy asked if he had friends growing up, and he had two! They'd been very close, and it had been asked once in his recent past if his reluctance to start something new was because of their absences. In fact, part of Yi Sang's growth toward grasping his happiness again in the game would be owed to Yingying's dream, where he'd reminisce the days when he and his friends would laugh and play together in their hometown. The League had been the place where he could be free from the City's cruelties and do as he'd pleased without hurting anyone, but people were the sources of joy—they were home. Ergo, the was because he didn't know whether either of his friends was still alive, but even the twisting didn't hurt much due to the emotional void in him. It was difficult for him to hang onto even pain when he was so tired. Disillusioned as he'd become at the end of the first week, at this point he was quietly wishing for death so that he could escape his agonizing thoughts.
While he kept the details to the usual minimum, there was a noticeable shift in Poppy's attitude. She indulged in his food when nobody else had, and even seemed eager to contribute to it with her own flavor. As a side note, while Yi Sang liked the meal just fine, even he was a bit aghast at the idea of throwing in brown sugar at this stage. Poor preparation was one thing, but this was a completely different ingredient that didn't replace anything missing. There will be a time in canon when he substitutes sugar with butter, and the result will be atrocious; having said that, there would at least be an odd logic to follow.
His infamous comment on the intensely mild flavor traced back to his love of all things intense. Sometimes, the intensity in one direction would swerve right back to the opposite end of the spectrum. In this case, the sheer overpowering flavor of the sauce obliterated the rest of the dish, and the end result was something milder in his mind. As for Poppy, her table manners were atrocious, but he simply let her be as he couldn't be bothered to make a fuss about it and, more importantly, understood that she was going out of her way to be nice. While it wasn't necessary, it was kind.
And then . . . the robot fighting competition. Yi Sang dislikes violence in all its forms! Poppy, however, was very into the match, yet what stuck out amid her morbid imagination was the place of passion from where she was speaking. She was applying the topic to her work with code; as someone who'd once been so enthralled by his projects as to devote every spare moment to them, it wasn't a terrible observation. He also agreed with her morality concerning the ethics of enabling sentient machinery to feel pain for entertainment, utterly wild as the mere notion of it was, because artificial intelligence is forbidden in the City—as in, those who violate that taboo are erased gruesomely from the face of the earth in mere moments. Speaking of, she indicated that some people could be so morally bereft, and the realism of that belief was respectable in a way.
The third week only became stranger from there, topped by her introduction of what yaoi, yuri, and het mean. He could make an educated guess on what het was, but the other two were foreign, so he asked for her guidance in order to enlighten himself on the discussion in case it would help. As for whether or not it did . . . Poppy, though indeed a woman of many talents, completely lost him with her gestures. He couldn't understand. He was under the impression that her explanation hadn't covered everything, but he understood enough of the sentiment that, from a certain angle, it could have been considered a success.
As a whole, Poppy tended to speak whatever was on her mind. Sometimes the words were confounding, if not outright abrasive; for the most part, though, they had a certain charm. She'd mouth off and get into her share of altercations, yet it was also clear to him that she had many a thought that would surface kindly, like when she picked Yingying at the third ceremony with the promise of ensuring the latter wouldn't be alone. Poppy was a friend to those in need of one—full of life, pain, joy, and ambition. She was like the bonfire he would equate her to during hot or not at the final party, an ardent spring of warmth that could burn if it so desired.
By their date on the fourth week, Yi Sang was much more active and responsive as the result of letting certain thoughts go and accepting others, so he chose to indulge Poppy at the themed park in order to ensure that she had a good time. Remembering her fondness for sweets, he decided on the funnel cake stand first, and there was the underlying sweetness again when she spoke of sharing like it was as natural as breathing to her—except her order was monstrously sweet, even by his standards! Yi Sang likes intense foods on the savory and spicy side. This was neither. Having said that, it was a different experience he was willing to try at least once with Poppy at his side, and he took advantage of their time together to learn more about her. Curiously, there was an immediate shift when he asked after her mother, and though he was initially confused by her response, he soon realized that there might be a complicated history between them.
Getting into the familiar topic of forgoing bodily needs to indulge one's hyperfixation, he didn't exactly think her idea of keeping candy by the computer was optimal for energy needs, but at least she'd done something. This segued into his asking about her reasons for joining the game, and, to his surprise, she'd forgotten about them. She quickly recouped by stating that she could manage on her own, and he actually agreed with this. Poppy had the drive. This was also a sign that she'd been thriving in other aspects of the game, perhaps in the ways she'd needed the most, to even consider the impersonal side of things. It was an unexpectedly warm development, which he also questioned Shoko on during their date, as he really thought the two of them were lovely for each other. All in all, Yi Sang had a fair amount of respect for Poppy as an engineer and a friend (even if not necessarily to him), no matter how ill-advised some of the words she'd utter. He hopes her future projects with her partner are a smashing success, and that she and Shoko find peace in each other's company.
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