Breaking through the pain / Washing off the stain

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Huaisang loved everything about Venice. The beauty and artistry, the libertine sexuality, the melting pot of culture and the casual anonymity. It had never been so easy for him to stay in one place for so long. As long as he had money, people were happy to ignore his household as eccentric, and all he needed to do was scatter some new rumors every decade or two. All that popular society knew was that there had been the original patriarch from overseas, then there had been twins for a while, a boy and a girl, and eventually the girl died in childbirth and it was her son who was the only one ever seen in society anymore.

His servants asked few questions, and if their knowledge conflicted with the gossip, that only made the wild gossip all the more interesting. A wealthy family trading in art and artifacts. That was all anyone knew. It helped that his villa was on one of the smaller islands of the lagoon. He had an island of his own, utmost privacy, and as long as he made no efforts to involve himself in power or politics, no one took any interest. For most of the year, Huaisang remained elusive, alone in his beautiful house, and only emerged during festivals where he could be all the more anonymous.

Carnevale was the best and the longest of the festivals, and Huaisang spent nearly the entire thing celebrating on the main island. He rented a suite of rooms and then ventured out to enjoy the city at his leisure, enjoying the endless parties.

Dressed and masked elaborately for the night, he took along his favorite painted fan. It was no longer the original painting, but the metal spokes were the same, and he hadn’t had to replace the paper in over a hundred years.

Fanning himself idly as he flirted his way through a busy party, Huaisang paused to linger near the refreshments table, considering whether he wished to lift his mask and partake or if he would rather drift upstairs to where the party was audibly becoming… more physical. It was a party like any other in Venice that night, anonymous and libertine. Nothing pleasurable was forbidden.

Huaisang’s smile ached a little beneath his mask. Somehow it was always at these times, surrounded by people and brightness and joy, that he felt the most lonely.