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I.
“Changsu!”
“Xiao Shu!”
The two voices call, equally frustrated, although one has a greater degree of exasperation and annoyance in the tone, while the other is much more resigned.
The distant figure in the rain doesn’t move.
“Changsu, as your doctor, you should know, that I know you have absolutely no trouble with your ears! In fact, they work far better than most of your body, seeing as when you abuse them it’s for the knowledge they gain you hearing whispers than doing something strenuous!” Lin Chen shouts, slowly slogging his way through the garden. Jingyan follows behind with a huff of laughter and carrying a cloak for said stubborn person.
Jingyan has been on the receiving end of the majority of the knowledge Xiao Shu has gained from his ridiculous hearing, in recent years. Even if some of it he could’ve gone without the other knowing. Like his birthday present, which was supposed to have been a surprise. Or that time when he detailed all the times (even if there hadn’t been that many) he’d overheard he’d heard Jingyan and Lin Chen kissing or having sex, because he still was a possessive child at heart sometimes.
“He’s always been like this, Mother calls it ‘selective hearing loss.’”
“‘Selective’ is right — attempting to selectively worry people, selectively taking care of himself, selectively listening to me when I tell a fool he needs a cloak in the rain like a normal human even if he’s cured, because colds and other illnesses are still a mundane human worry!”
Changsu continues ignoring them both, even if it’s obvious that the latter half of the statement was directed at him.
“You know,” Jingyan mentions, tone light, “the best way to get him to listen is to start talking about things he’d be interested in, at least when we were younger....”
Lin Chen shakes his head, wet strands whipping about his shoulders. “I’ve tried similarly, since he’s recovered both times, but sometimes it’s like you need to walk up behind him and ring a gong next to his head, loud enough to wake him and all his ancestors.”
Jingyan considers the metaphor. “...Did you try to get Fei Liu to do it?”
Lin Chen pouts. “He refused.”
“And then attacked you.”
“So what topics would the illustrious Mei Changsu be interested in enough to join us on this mortal plane?” Lin Chen asks instead of answering Jingyan’s question. Because that’s how his lovers are. Of course.
“Well, he was quite bothered the other day, after you decided to visit me while I was looking over some of the newest medical publications such that we might ensure better quality in the apothecaries across Da Liang....”
Lin Chen smirks. “You mean when I came over and gave you a very thorough lesson on why that one particular herb is so helpful?”
Jingyan does not blush. Not even the slightest reddening of his ears. Not at all.
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
“Well,” Lin Chen’s hand moves towards his sleeve where his fan is currently hiding, but pauses, considers the weather and leaves it be, “I could instead talk about all the wonderful sounds you made. I know Changsu appreciates them almost as much as I do. After all, there’s that one noise that you make when I manage to get your hands above your head and lick my way down from your nipples. It’s a really nice sound. Almost as good as when — "
“Fine, I’ll wear the cloak!” Changsu calls from his position only a few paces away, though Jingyan’s face is slowly turning a truly delightful shade of pink.
Changsu still couldn’t come and get the cloak though, the child.
“Hmm, is he really?” Lin Chen asks his lover. “I’m really not sure he is. Of course, he wears it, but somehow it never ends up tied...”
Jingyan chuckles as Lin Chen takes the cloak. “Of course not, ‘you cannot push a cow’s head down, unless it is drinking water by its own will.’”
“You would know, you silly Water Buffalo,” Xiao Shu replies, words slightly muffled by the fur of the cloak as Lin Chen throws it over him. Especially towards the end, when Jingyan takes a step closer to pointedly tie the front so it closes fully.
“And you call me stubborn,” Jingyan says with a shake of his head.
“You are,” Lin Chen and Xiao Shu reply in unison.
Jingyan rolls his eyes. It’s something he’s been doing far more often since he’s learned Xiao Shu’s identity and of his eventual return, and is happening even more often since he, Xiao Shu, and Lin Chen have entered a relationship.
But it’s nice, out here, with the rain blanketing the capital and muffling the sounds of the world around them. It’s nice to take a moment with his lovers and revel that they’re all here together, and happy.
He didn’t think he’d ever get this, not since hearing the news from Meiling (both times).
II.
“You know, Crown Prince, I didn’t drag Changsu back from the grave so you could put yourself in one instead.”
Jingyan blinks up from the scroll he’d been reading — or, honestly, muzzily staring at and hoping to have a revelation suddenly strike him in regards to a solution.
Lin Chen sighs, and then mutters, “Honestly, at least Changsu acknowledges he’s over working himself.”
“Changsu” and “overworking himself,” catches Jingyan’s attention, and suddenly he’s far more awake than he was a few blinks ago.
“What’s wrong with Xiao-Shu? I thought he was doing well this morning when we met to discuss matters with Cai Quan and Shen Zhui!”
Lin Chen abruptly adopts a far more solemn mask and waves his fan warningly at Jingyan.
“Oh it’s terrible. He’s absolutely exhausted, and constantly stressing! Fei Liu can hardly be moved from his side. But I suppose that securing the court is currently more important than your friend’s health....”
Jingyan shoves the scroll aside and all but bolts towards Changsu’s chambers.
Lin Chen trails behind, smirking, particularly when he hears Changsu yell in dulcet tones, after a short muffled question to ensure they’re not under attack or something similar of course, “Jingyan, it is the middle of the night! Why are you waking Fei Liu?”
More muffled words results in Changsu’s voice growing steadily more exasperated, and Jingyan slowly calming down.
Lin Chen muffled a snicker after the peace persists for half an hour.
Mission: get the Crown Prince to sleep successfully accomplished.
He pokes his head around the door to Changsu’s sleeping area and meets the exasperated glare with a smirk.
A very telling smirk.
Changsu rolls his eyes, but given that Jingyan is clearly not moving from where he’s conked out by Changsu’s side, and the fact that Changsu did end up having extra bedding brought, means Lin Chen won this round. Changsu will probably win the next “Jingyan is overworking himself; we need to do something” contest of concern, but hey, Lin Chen won this round.
He can’t have the Water Buffalo up and die on his watch from something as simple as overwork, right?
And it has nothing to do with how adorable his face is when it’s scrunched up in worry. Nothing at all.
(If, the next day, the Crown Prince’s wife sends a few tokens over to Changsu’s rooms when they’re clearly meant for Lin Chen, well. At least someone clearly appreciates him.)
Jingyan, after waking up far more coherent than he’s been in days, is also thankful to Lin Chen and very, very awkward around Changsu now. It hurts, just a touch more than usual, but Lin Chen crushes that in the ensuing hilarity that follows the rabbity Water Buffalo (Lin Chen knows he needs a better name but, honestly, Water Buffalo just aren’t as cute as rabbits and they definitely don’t do the watering eyes as well, but also Water Buffalo are far more stubborn than rabbits...) and his Strategist in the next few months.
III.
It’s something that comes to Lin Chen at some ridiculous hour of the morning, when he’s lightly dozing and ready to take another cat nap after dealing with Changsu and the army, and Changsu, and the Poison of the Bitter Flames, and Changsu.
Because sometimes you need to burn something a little hotter, let it crystallize, let it evaporate, and obviously Lin Chen is not planning on vaporizing Changsu, or his blood, but depending on the evaporation point of the the Poison of the Bitter Flames — and that would just necessitate him taking some of Changsu’s blood, and it’s not like he is coughing up enough of it these days, the complete idiot. Although that has the risk of being contaminated with saliva and other possible things since it’s coming out of his mouth. On the other hand, considering the current conditions they’re in, Lin Chen isn’t exactly sure there’s anything he can do to make things more sanitary and his samples less contaminated.
But he can take a sample, and see what happens, and honestly why has no one thought of this before?
(Perhaps they have and it’s not worked and he’s merely desperate, but that’s not a thought to have, now, when Changsu is counting down the days as he burns out his body for the Crown Prince, for the Chiyan Army, for Da Liang.)
Lin Chen forces Changsu to cough into a bowl for him the next day — technically a few hours later, but really, who can tell — and hides it away to experiment with later, because the wounded are once more returning and Lin Chen has bone setting and sewing to do.
(And if he’s more sarcastic and biting and less flamboyant and misdirecting, these days, well, he thinks he can be forgiven. It’s not like Changsu is in a position to notice, one foot firmly on the road to meet his beloved army, the other barely remaining on this plane to ensure this army succeeds, the fool. But then, Lin Chen has always known that, and Changsu has always been Lin Chen’s fool — or the fool Lin Chen deals with the most often, but who can still match wits with him. It’s debatable some days.)
It’s more hours than he’d like before he gets a chance to look at the bowl again, but he lights a fire, brings it as hot as he can go with the materials at hand — which, admittedly, is not that hot and he mourns his tools languishing in Langya Hall, and back at Changsu’s manor — and places a small amount on a metal plate. And waits.
And waits.
And then there’s steam rising, of course, because water is one of the most important components of blood and it will, usually, leave first, but from what Lin Chen can smell, it’s not just water leaving.
Which is good — it means this idea has merit, if he can prevent Changsu from catching fire and burning to a crisp while he does it.
Or have his blood evaporate into mist and kill him that way.
But then, isn’t that what near magical herbs and a wealth of knowledge and genius (and desperation) are best used for?
So he plots, and plans, and snatched a larger map — or, rather, steals into the map tent and browses until he finds the one he needs, and buys time, and buys time, and buys time.
And then absconds with Changsu and Fei Liu from the newly victorious army with a wave and a mention of “things to do,” to General Meng.
Maybe he should’ve said “people to heal,” or “a very specific person to do.”
Well, he’s been working under less than ideal circumstances and not getting enough rest, nor seen enough beautiful people recently. Honestly, is it any wonder his wit has suffered some?
~IiI~
He buys more time.
They make their way north east, a little, and it’s a relatively short trip, which is good, because Lin Chen has bought and traded and bargained for time, at that time is running short, short, short. Not to mention that they’re in enemy territory, but really, who’s thinking of that, right now?
In the meantime, there are herbs along the way to pick — for now and for later, stories to tell, and things to see, and time to create something perfect.
(Changsu’s blood is sacrificed in many bowls swirling with varying concoctions, but Lin Chen does get it right eventually, and proceeds to ensure that his recalcitrant patient ingests as much of the perfected brew as he possibly can. Changsu protests that Lin Chen is trying to pickle him, but his voice is very, very hoarse, and he doesn’t even try to lift his hand to bat away the bowl.)
~IiI~
They make it to the volcano and Changsu would probably be incredulous if he were conscious, but he’s not, so there’s one less thing to worry about. And the volcano isn’t even active right now, so Lin Chen doesn’t need to worry about Fei Liu (over)reacting until much later.
There’s the creating something to use to drag Changsu in and out of the fire, and an ointment to smear over him (and his hair, because Lin Chen is just that thorough thank you very much), and figuring out where best to revive the volcano, and the ritual for that, and Fei Liu might need to be knocked out by something in his dinner, but the whole process goes quite smoothly for Changsu being involved.
And he can wake up Fei Liu and tell him his Su-gege is going to get better for real now and that’s something.
(So is Changsu’s face when he can feel his strength coming back to him, when he can laugh and not try coughing up his lungs and possibly his stomach, when he’s actually warm and not feverish, when he’s warm down to his bones for the first time in 15 years.)
Lin Chen is very, very pleased with himself.
He’s less pleased when Changsu insists on finding out what’s going on in Jinling, and then wants to hare back there because of plots and assassins, and Lin Chen would really, really appreciate it if someone would appreciate his work for longer than a hot second.
(Go figure, it’s the Crown Prince who does. It’s still nice, even if Changsu is still as reckless as ever — more so, now, probably. The Crown Prince has quite a bit to say on that matter, and if Changsu complains on occasion that they’re ganging up on him, well. Really, it takes more than one person to temper that flame.
Besides, Lin Chen has quite a bit to say about the Crown Prince’s own habits, the workaholic rabbit.)
IV.
Changsu meets the future Empress of Da Liang when he’s summoned to the Eastern Palace upon his (honestly miraculous) return. It’s a little awkward, meeting this young woman who is now so inherently tied to Jingyan, someone who he’s accounted for in his schemes, to a degree, but only as a passing gesture, otherwise too preoccupied with the movement of the Chiyan case.
He trusted that Aunt Jing wouldn’t choose someone unsuitable for her son — of course she didn’t.
But now to face the Princess-Consort, to give life to the facsimile in his head made of silk and air and vague imagination....
It’s not a shock, but it’s not quite pleasurable, not quite comfortable, either.
For that matter, they meet by accident — Changsu on his way to see Jingyan in the study, and she on her way, judging from her clothes, to the market.
“Your Highness.” Changsu bows.
“Sir Su. I know my husband is greatly pleased that you have returned safe and well.”
“Yes,” Changsu bows his head a little. “I wish to apologize to the Crown Prince for my delayed return.”
“In that case, please let me not delay you further. My husband has been quite looking forward to your visit.”
Changsu hides a wince.
“Yes,” And with another bow they part ways.
Lin Chen meets her highness, the Princess-Consort, while trying to make Changsu go back to bed because of a cold he caught from the Crown Prince, and convincing the Crown Prince to, himself, go back to bed and stop working for the day — is he really so interested in prolonging the cold and increasing the likelihood it worsen and then re-infect all his people (especially Changsu) again?
“Really, it’s a great compliment to Da Liang that you value the people and the empire so much, Crown Prince, but it’s certainly exhausting to watch you run head long into problems you might avoid with a brain able to function at full capacity.”
“But this report —“
“Is getting snot all over it, yes, and I doubt you’ve retained even a quarter of what it contains.”
“Lin Chen —“ Changsu is thankfully cut off by a sneeze.
“Yes, yes, let’s go. I brought Fei Liu, and a carriage, and you two can plot later, once you’re both not ill.”
The Crown Prince’s eyes seem to be tearing up slightly (and odds are even as to whether it’s from his cold or because Xiao-Shu is leaving) and Lin Chen is very much taking that as a sign to leave, when the Princess enters bearing a bowl of soup.
Very gracefully, Lin Chen avoids splashing the soup everywhere, because that’s just rude to beautiful ladies, and also because the Crown Prince is already looking soggy because Changsu is leaving him.
Lin Chen is not jealous in the least. Because what isn’t to like about Changsu? Well, besides his hard on for justice for all his men and his family (his loyalty), and his absolutely ridiculous plans (his oft acknowledged and sometimes cursed intelligence), and Lin Chen is maybe getting sick too because normally his examples actually help him win arguments — especially with himself.
But that’s how he meets the beautiful and radiant Princess-Consort to the Crown Prince: dodging soup, berating her husband while he’s ill, and taking away Changsu.
All successfully he might add.
(They’ll laugh about it the next time it happens in that exact same sequence, and while Changsu very much does get along with the Princess-Consort — eventually, the Empress — both Changsu and Jingyan call the meeting of her and Lin Chen an unholy alliance.
(Changsu more-so than Jingyan, but then he ends up pranked or otherwise managed more anyways. Lin Chen is of the opinion his ego needs it.)
V.
Lin Chen sweeps into the room, ducking to avoid Fei Liu leaping out onto the walkway and then flying away, hands full with some treat or another in a very distinctive lacquer-wear box.
Apparently the soon-to-be Emperor is here for once, rather than Changsu visiting him.
It’s probably to do with that demoted minister left languishing in the countryside that they want to yank back to the capital, but it’s always good to be sure it’s not something like assassins. Again.
(Yes, Lin Chen had heard about that last group from the border near the North that was thinking of rebelling and had mustered up enough money to send a few assassins down to the capital before Changsu dealt with them. And the other capital-grown group that Changsu had put off dealing with until they did something obvious — like assassins. And Lin Chen did not appreciate coming back to his least favorite, most ill-behaved patient and finding him bleeding. From a very thin, very small sword slice, but still.)
“Changsu, if you’re having a meeting regarding assassins yet again, I’m going to have to question your planning skills.”
Changsu gives Lin Chen a look, equivalent to him rolling his eyes.
“It’s not about assassins.”
The Crown Prince’s facial expression makes it seem more serious than assassins.
“Did someone get caught embezzling military or educational funds?”
“No, we haven’t had that problem in nearly two years.”
“Alright, alright,” Lin Chen makes a placating motion with his hands. “Then you’re planning on killing the emperor a little early to run off and elope, leaving me to comfort the beautiful Princess-Consort and take over the empire while you two rule the jianghu and then we’ll have kids that end up fighting to the death, but you’ll give me Fei Liu so he doesn’t have to fight his Su-gege.”
“No, not at all.”
Lin Chen is not blind, he'd like to tell Changsu. He can see the sexual and romantic tension between the almost emperor and his strategist, and he dearly hopes his eyebrows and pointed look convey that sentiment. He’s ready to lock them in a room at this point, just so they’ll air out their feelings and get it out of their system, so it won’t be so painful to watch them interact.
(It’ll be painful for other reasons, but Lin Chen is studiously ignoring those.)
“No, we asked you here to discuss our relationship,” Jingyan cuts in, putting an end to Changsu’s meandering responses.
“So you’ve gotten it through your thick skulls that you like each other? Finally! Everyone will be so pleased.”
“Er, yes but that not all we —”
“So are you going to elope for a few months and take a break from the insanity that is now the capital, which Changsu created?”
“No,” Jingyan says firmly, “it’s more like we asked you here because we’d like you to be a part of our relationship, too.”
“So I have the great honor of gracing your bed when I’m occasionally in the capital to ensure you two don’t get bored of each other, really, how thoughtful, Your Highness.” He feels cold to his bones and -- maybe it's a mix of hurt and affront that they would think him of him so. But Lin Chen is proud enough to not stoop to that level, no he likes his heart beating, even wounded, still beating and whole in his chest for that.
“Not like that, Lin Chen. Like an actual part of the relationship — complete with berating us and bemoaning the state of affairs together and all,” Changsu counters. “We enjoy — we like — your company, and it’s not as if we’d have gotten this far without your assistance in the first place.”
Lin Chen does not flinch at that or say, “because you’d be dead for your men, for your family, for your justice,” but only barely.
“And we think our relationship would be incomplete without you here, when you want to be, in it.”
The Crown Prince takes that as his cue to add, “We love you, Lin Chen. You flit about the jianghu and the empire, and we appreciate and try to understand it, but while you’re here we’d like you with us — in bed or out of it — and while you’re traveling we’d like to continue to have your companionship through letters or messages whenever you can.”
Lin Chen blinks, a little stunned.
“Honestly, Lin Chen, we’ve been flirting for years,” Changsu says into the silence.
“Yes, you’ve been flirting with your Water Buffalo for years. It’s been entertaining and sometimes a little painful,” comes the automatic reply.
“We’ve both been flirting with you for years,” the Crown Prince — well, Lin Chen should probably call him Jingyan — says dryly.
“Ah, that was...”
“Not obvious?” Changsu says with a slight laugh.
“No,” Lin Chen replies, “Not obvious at all.”
(“So that’s a ‘yes,’ right?”
“I suppose if I can’t convince you two to elope and leave to the jianghu then it’s a yes.”
“Why are you so obsessed with eloping to the jianghu?”
“Isn’t that what always happens, these days? I’ve run into Jingrui and Yujin, and a half dozen other familiar faces doing just that.”
“Xiao-Shu, is that where they went?”
“Who?”
“You just let Jingrui and Yujin wander off into the jianghu? I thought they were helping with court matters!”
“Why not both?”
“That’s not the point!”)
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