Chapter Text
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“I don’t want you to… I won’t make this a condition,” says Zhixing when he has to breathe.
“I’d not allow it,” comes the bland riposte, not hasty yet prompt and with absolute certainty.
“But will you teach me?”
This gets a twitch out of Zang Hai, mirrored in the slight shift of his mouth; it settles in a cool, slanted smile. “I’m not going to dole out that kind of reward.”
“Can I earn it?” It’s terribly blunt, but what’s to lose?
“I can find you-”
“No. You. Either you, or nobody.”
“Not me.”
Right. A defeat at the first bulwark. But Zang Hai still doesn’t pull away, or kick Zhixing into the shins, or wrest himself free. Neither does he seem worried that Zhixing might leverage what he’s learned already during this memorable hour, soaked in the aroma of expensive herbs and strange confessions.
He feels incredibly good, lightly pressed against Zhixing. Warm and firm, and completely composed. “You let me kiss you,” says Zhixing, under no illusion about who’s in control.
“A technicality.”
Zhixing’s breathing stalls. It’s a small, precise, merciless humiliation. He stares at Zang Hai and wants to rattle him so badly. He wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a gourd. But Zang Hai’s gaze is frosty, his tone forbidding, his posture gives Zhixing nothing. That kiss was just another thing he had to do, and he won’t do more.
oOo
Disappointment coils in Zhixing’s guts. Oddly enough, it seems to fuel his new-found resolve. He lets go, reluctantly. For now. Zang Hai’s teaching will be of the practical kind, and the strongest lessons are those learned the hard way. He draws back – two, three steps – then clasps his hands before him and bows. “Zhixing thanks Master Zang.”
Zang Hai acknowledges it with a small nod, then climbs out and begins to get dressed.
Zhixing watches for a few heartbeats, before scrambling after him. He turns his back as he dries himself and dons his robes. He wonders whether it is only his desire for retribution, or more that’s driving him. A shared secret. The urge to measure himself against someone as formidable as the man he just kissed, and at least draw even. The urge to please. It’s odd, how much he wants to please Zang Hai, and he thinks vaguely that this too is something shared – his father, and Zang Hai, won’t give anything without effort. He has to earn it. He has to fight for it. It is thoroughly conditional.
And as he turns to see Zang Hai smooth out his robes, to become his regular, impeccable self again, Zhixing knows he will. He’ll be the best student ever. He’ll draw that cool, appraising gaze onto himself, and he’ll see respect spark in it (and perhaps more, he thinks, a fervent little sting, perhaps more).
If he earns it. There might be more if he works for it. If he reshapes himself from what he is these days, into a man. Nothing will earn Zang Hai’s respect but resolve, put to the right purpose. Zhixing owes a filial debt to his mother. What he owes his father is quite different. He’ll prove himself worthy: He’ll pay both debts, at once and in full. And then Zang Hai might look at him the way Zhixing craves.
oOo
END