Chapter Text
Explaining what he himself did not fully understand was as difficult as expected, especially when Zhou Zishu was reluctant to share the information in the first place. Not once in his life had he ever wanted to be seen as weak, always putting up a facade and forcing himself through things during challenging times was his way of coping.
But he and Wen Kexing had done enough lying and hiding. With the eternity they had now, it was better to be honest than to try and keep up a lie forever.
“...I’m still not sure what causes it, but the time each incident lasts seems to vary,” he finished with a small pensive frown, still turning over the possibilities in his mind even now. There had to be some sort of connection, if only he could discern what it was.
Wen Kexing sported a small frown of his own, having shifted during their conversation so they were laying side-by-side under the blanket. Throughout the course of Zhou Zishu’s explanation, the younger man had stayed silent, taking in everything that was carefully shared with him. There was little doubt that the other man had not been suspicious of the recent events, maybe he had even deduced that something similar was happening on his own.
Threading their fingers together, Wen Kexing mindlessly rubbed circles on the back of Zhou Zishu’s hand as he replied, “Could it be the heat? Are the effects of our cultivation method weakening the longer we’re down here?” his eyes meeting Zhou Zishu’s own dark pair beseechingly, as though he expected to find an answer hidden within their inky depths.
With a slight shake of his head, the elder man responded, “I’m not sure. Wouldn’t it be affecting you then, too? You haven’t noticed anything wrong with your body, have you?” a hint of anxiousness to his words. On one hand, that would give them a solution so that they could go back up the mountain and hope that the degradation righted itself, on the other, he would rather tear his own heart out of his chest than to know Wen Kexing may have been dying without his notice.
A quick shake of the other’s head, white hair moving back and forth across the bed sheet, assuaged his worries. Continuing in his small movements, Wen Kexing shifted closer to the other man and spoke resolutely, “No, nothing. I was keeping track of myself just in case something like that may be going on, but my body is perfectly fine,” his own frown only growing deeper. It was clear he was not happy with the knowledge they were completely in the dark when it came to what was going on with Zhou Zishu.
They laid together in silence for a while, Wen Kexing refusing to let go of Zhou Zishu’s hand. A fear that had once been smothered out had reignited within his eyes. The younger man’s chest was now pressed up against Zhou Zishu’s back, keeping the elder man within the other male’s arms that were wrapped around his middle.
Zhou Zishu could not bear to ask him to move back a bit, even if it were beginning to get uncomfortably hot.
“I’ll write to Wu Xi tonight and ask him if he knows what may be causing it. If Ye-qianbei were around we could also try to speak with him, but as far as I know he’s completely vanished,” not a single person had seen the immortal since that fateful day. At the time, most of the focus had been on saving Zhou Zishu and then on saving Wen Kexing. By the time anyone noticed the man had vanished, there wasn’t even the barest hint of a clue as to where he had gone.
He wasn’t on the mountain, at least. Nor Four Seasons Manor.
Truthfully, Zhou Zishu didn’t want to bother his friends again so soon with something the Shaman may know nothing about in the first place. The cultivation method they had used was a lost art, very few knew the details of how it worked aside from himself, Wen Kexing, and Ye Baiyi, if any.
But it would put Wen Kexing’s mind more at ease if he sent the letter.
Besides, were Lord Seventh to learn about this situation some other way, he would be sure to show up with Wu Xi on his own. Knowing Lao Wen, he was more than aware of this as well and would find some way to send his own letters if Zhou Zishu did not. It would be easier to know the master of chaos and his husband were coming rather than to suddenly be blind-sided by them.
“Alright,” Wen Kexing replied reluctantly, clearly still uneasy about what was going on. And how could Zhou Zishu possibly blame him? To have your zhiji be saved from dying, only to find out not longer after that he may be dying again?
Then again, it could also have to do with how little he knew Zhou Zishu’s friends. In the end, Wu Xi had not been able to save Zhou Zishu on his own, it was possible Lao Wen didn’t fully trust the Shaman’s capabilities.
Either way, the Manor Lord would need to get up eventually and find a mechanical bird to send off. Writing the letter itself wouldn’t be difficult, but untangling himself from the tight grasp Wen Kexing had on him was, in his vast experience, almost impossible without cooperation from the owner of said-vice grip.
It was still mid-afternoon, there was enough time before nightfall. He could give Lao Wen a few more shichen of this quiet closeness before getting up.
Zhou Zishu had sent the letter the next morning, writing as clearly and concisely as he always had. His writing as a child had always been more to the point than the more flowery language found in poems; his time crafting reports in the Window of Heaven had only further honed those skills. Wu Xi himself would prefer it that way, hopefully it would be enough for him to get a good grasp on the situation here.
Once the bird had been seen off, Zhou Zishu had quickly settled back into his usual daily routine. While the cases of losing his senses had disrupted his days more than once, it wasn’t enough of a concern for him to feel the need to rest in bed all day.
Despite Wen Kexing’s protests.
For his part, Wen Kexing had taken to hovering around Zhou Zishu at any point in time. He wasn’t as overt about it as he may have tried to be in the past, knowing that the Manor Lord did not like being coddled kept his attempts more restrained, but it was still noticeable to a martial arts master.
It seemed as though Wen Kexing had decided to take it upon himself to always have Zhou Zishu within his sight, throwing Zhang Chengling over to take watch if he were pulled away. Even at this very moment Wen Kexing was there, standing just beyond the doorway, as though physically unable to take his eyes off of Zhou Zishu.
Part of Zhou Zishu’s confession last night had included the truth about each of his incidents, which was more likely than not the fuel for this monitoring going on. It was also why the elder man couldn’t bring himself to chastise his shidi, knowing he had already proven at least five times that he had a tendency to get hurt in some way when he suddenly lost his senses.
Half of him bristled at it all, it wasn’t as though he had died or anything, this was too over-the-top. The other half understood that there was a certain level of remembrance and fear at play here. Wen Kexing had been so desperate for Zhou Zishu to survive he had even resorted to lying and giving up his own life for it--of course he would be beside himself with worry at the prospect of his partner getting harmed in some way again.
This tenuous balance within him was the only reason Zhou Zishu had yet to snap at his companion to stop dancing around him. He could be understanding and mature, he should be if he didn’t want a repeat of their previous arguments. It was fine. Wu Xi would reply soon with an answer and they could move from there.
Luckily no instances of sudden loss of sight or touch or anything of the sort had happened in the few days between sending off the notice and receiving a reply.
It was one of the older disciples who had run in during lunch perhaps three or so days after the initial letter had been sent, marvelling at the mechanical bird resting on his finger. Although this boy was one of the older disciples, he was in fact one of the newer ones and had never had the chance to come into contact with mechanical birds as the ones who had worked with the Window of Heaven had. Zhang Chengling had been teaching the students some of Long Que’s skills, although none were far enough along to have close contact with mechanisms like these birds.
There was an innocence there that made something deep within Zhou Zishu’s heart constrict.
Taking the bird, the Manor Lord had dismissed the boy back to his studies before opening the letter. As expected, Wen Kexing materialized from seemingly nowhere, reading over his shoulder.
They were both quiet as they read the words, focusing all of their attention on what the Shaman may have to share about their current situation.
“A-Xu…” the younger man started once all had been read, giving his companion an unreadable look, “Do you still…?”
Sighing, Zhou Zishu put the paper down, averting his face from the other man’s searching eyes.
Wu Xi’s letter had been insightful, to be certain. Apparently the Shaman had theorized that something like this might happen, but had decided to keep it to himself in case he was wrong. It was true, as Zhou Zishu himself had mused before, that they all knew very little of just how far-reaching the effects of the Combined Six Cultivation method were. Still, the answer seemed so fantastical it was hard to believe.
It was, Wu Xi hypothesized, not a physical problem, but a mental one. The mind was a powerful thing, this Zhou Zishu could readily agree with. But to say the reason Zhou Zishu was losing his senses was due to his enduring regrets? That because Zhou Zishu did not believe he deserved to have his happy ending, that because his punishment had been cut short and he still held so much guilt, that he was somehow doing it to himself? Was that even possible?
The answer suggested seemed dubious to the Manor Lord. Still, thinking back on it, he had lost his sense of taste after the dream of his past pains. Had the other instances been the same? Had he been thinking about such things before they occurred? Was that the trigger? And if that were so, how was he going to solve this?
It was true. Zhou Zishu did believe he had gotten off too easily, that he did not deserve everything he had now when everyone else in his past had suffered because of him, be it directly or indirectly.
But he couldn’t say that to Lao Wen. Not out loud, anyway.
Avoiding answering the other man’s inquiry, Zhou Zishu turned his gaze back down to the letter, as though trying to find some sort of hidden second response within the characters.
“A-Xu,” Wen Kexing repeated, taking a few steps closer to the elder man, “You...then, do you think I deserve this sort of life right now if you don’t? I, the evil Ghost Valley Master?” he questioned, almost hysterical with what might have been anger or despair.
Zhou Zishu continued to keep his gaze averted, speaking evenly, “Lao Wen. There’s a difference between you, who did what you had to to survive and get revenge, and me, who killed innocents for nothing more than the whims of a narcissist I was too blind to recognize. I decimated my whole sect, even Han Ying--” he cut himself off, that particular wound still too fresh to press on.
Clearly wanting to argue this conclusion Zhou Zishu had come to, the younger man exclaimed, “A-Xu, you…!” then stopped himself, averting his own gaze to the floor and taking a few deep breaths.
Neither man moved for a few moments, both too caught up in their own emotional turmoil.
Wen Kexing was the one to break it, standing back up straight, eyes staring holes into Zhou Zishu, “Fine. If you won’t believe you deserve this ending, if you can’t accept that you’re not at fault for everything, then I’ll make sure to remind you every single day that you’re wrong.”
Those ridiculous words were spoken with such conviction that Zhou Zishu found it impossible not to turn and give the other man an incredulous look, “Lao Wen, no--” he began to protest, only to have his partner force the words back.
Not taking any sort of objection to his words, Wen Kexing reached forward, holding Zhou Zishu’s hands in his own larger one. Staring into each other’s eyes, the younger male spoke, “It was not your fault. A-Xu, you’re not a coward, or a monster, or anything of the sort. If anyone is, it’s your bastard of a cousin. You do deserve this life, with the new Four Seasons Manor you helped to create,” he squeezed their joined hands, as though to punctuate his words.
Zhou Zishu could do nothing but stare back, knowing how stubborn the other man could be.
“And I’ll say it as many times as I need to until you believe it.”
They waited two more weeks before heading back up the mountain. It was something Wu Xi had suggested, to see if there would be any more instances of Zhou Zishu losing his senses with them trying out this new strange method.
The disciples had been ecstatic to learn their shifu and shishu would be staying a bit longer than planned, Zhang Chengling most of all. Although the boy was getting older day by day, he was still a child. Zhou Zishu was not cruel enough to leave the teen in charge of everyone, he himself was evidence enough of how bad an idea that was, and instead had called Shen Shen over to help manage things whenever he and Wen Kexing were gone.
Those two weeks were spent much the same as the three days between messages had been. Although Wen Kexing hovered less, he still did his best to make certain he always had Zhou Zishu within sight. Every night Wen Kexing would sit Zhou Zishu down and repeat those same words, much to the embarrassment and unease of his partner. Keeping up with his increased stickiness, the man would then wrap himself around the Manor Lord for the rest of the night, the two of them staying entangled until morning came.
Paradoxically, Zhou Zishu found himself ruminating on his regrets even more than he had before, despite his efforts to try and keep them out of his mind and follow Wu Xi’s instructions. Or part of them, at least. Wen Kexing seemed intent on fulfilling the other part.
Often, Zhou Zishu would find himself stopping whatever he was working on and turning to gaze across the trees and flowers, thinking of all he had lost. Wen Kexing seemed to always know, of course, and would swoop in with a distraction. Sometimes he would remark on the scenery, asking Zhou Zishu what he could see out there, other times of the smells of the flowers, the sounds of the birds and other animals flitting about through the world around them. A few times he had even brought over food, plying Zhou Zishu with anything he had on hand and inquiring about the taste.
No matter what method he chose, though, Wen Kexing would always take one of Zhou Zishu’s hands in his own. It felt almost as if he were trying to ground the elder man, keeping his mind from drifting completely into the past to drown, instead tying him to the present.
Amazingly, it seemed to have worked.
Not once had Zhou Zishu had another instance of losing one of his senses, despite his expectations. Perhaps Wu Xi had been onto something.
He still didn’t believe he deserved to be forgiven, but he was starting to understand something. For Wen Kexing, part of having a happy ending included him being there. If Zhou Zishu had died, if he really had lost all of his senses and succumbed to the nails, it was just as likely that Wen Kexing would have perished as well. It didn’t make up for everything, nothing ever truly could, but it did click something back into place within him.
He hadn’t realized anything was missing in the first place.
If living on and figuring out how to appreciate the moment meant making Lao Wen happy, he could learn to do that. There were still times he became lost in his memories, days when regrets seemed to overwhelm him, muting the world and all of its colors; but when he felt Wen Kexing take his hand, somehow someway, it felt as though he could suddenly breathe again. He may not be able to fully escape his past, but he at least knew Wen Kexing would always be there to hold his hand.