Chapter Text
When he came to Zhao Jing, Xie'er's skin was soft and unmarred. A weak, tender thing, Zhao Jing had called him. Years down the line after it was all said and done, Xie'er's skin existed carefully concealed in paints and layers masking all the hardness of scars he gained in working for Zhao Jing. He had though, those were marks of honor. Even when Zhao Jing had called them unsightly when they laid together. When the light of morning brought out all the ugliness and he shuffles back under the sheets.
His fingers dig into one of the scars now as he thinks of those days long gone. Brought out of his revere by a quick little tap to his hand.
"Now, now, stop picking at that. These aren't going to get any better if you continue on." And the same large calloused hand returns to rubbing oil on those old wounds.
"These have been with me for years, they will remain with me until I die." He is unsure, if he is saying this as a point of pride or not. His past is embedded deep within his skin. It is what fills him out. Without it he would be but a scorpion's discarded molt.
Ye Baiyi gives him a long look, hand paused over one of the deeper gouges across Xie'er's shoulder. "It sure isn't going to get any better if you don't give it a chance."
He wonders at this possibility. That he might hold onto hope still of being more than this network of old hurts. The hand returned to rubbing back and forth over him seems to believe in it. And in the warm glow of a new day it does not look so awful. Not when Ye Baiyi would touch him like so.