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Snow fell. Fu Shen sat in the midst of it, breathing out a faint, wintry sigh.
His legs ached fiercely from the cold, pinpricks and sharp echoes of pain that he absently rubbed at. Enduring it was something that came instinctually, other than recently now with Yan Xiaohan, but right now Yan Xiaohan wasn't here to gently pry the truth of the pain out of him, so Fu Shen didn't think too much about it. He would be going back inside soon anyway. It was just…
He raised his hand in time to catch a falling snowflake. Looking at it, he couldn’t help but get lost in thought.
Fu Shen had been commander for years. He'd led his troops across fields and valleys, through sunshine and rain, but every step had always been stiff with tension that haunted the battlefield. There was little time to appreciate the glimpses of beauty nature offered, even less to sit like this and watch, at ease, the way snow drifted from the clouds overhead and onto his palm.
With an indescribable smile, Fu Shen wiped the bit of water away onto his sleeve.
He'd always thought himself as somewhat cold-hearted. Only rain and snow and raging winds could seep into his skin and drag out forgotten pains from the mended breaks in his skin and bones. It had always made him feel a little human despite the cold.
Sitting out here now, the cold was still aggravating, his legs still hurt, but as he watched snow melt against his skin, he realized, suddenly, that he was warm in a way he'd never noticed before.
When did that happen?
He wanted to think about it for a little while, but before he could even grasp the first threads of his thoughts together, something suddenly enveloped him. Quick hands tucked the blanket around him as a voice spoke low and helpless into his ear, "What are you doing out in the snow dressed like this?" Fingers glanced across the line of his jaw, flinched away, then hurriedly adjusted the blanket so that it went up to Fu Shen's chin. "You're freezing! How long have you been out here? Don't you dislike the cold? Are your legs…”
Fu Shen turned his head. His reddened nose brushed across a warm cheek, surprising them both.
Yan Xiaohan's jaw clicked shut. Fu Shen felt heat creep into his ears.
“I wanted to look at the snow,” Fu Shen explained after a moment. Seeing that Yan Xiaohan’s worry didn’t disippate at all, an unexpected warmth filled his chest. He quickly answered the flurry of questions in an attempt to reassure him: “I’d only just gotten out, and I wasn’t planning on staying here for long. My legs hurt a bit, but it’s not unbearable to the point of being unable to think. As for the cold…”
Fu Shen was wrapped neatly within the blanket, and he could still feel the heat of Yan Xiaohan’s breath brushing across his ear, of his arms as they reached from behind him to make him as comfortable as possible. With all these pieces of warmth so clear amongst the snow and wind, even though his feet couldn’t be completely covered to keep the blanket from dragging across the ground, it didn’t bother him in the slightest.
He finished, his voice unconsciously softening, “... It isn’t terrible.”
There was a quiet sigh. A hand squeezed his shoulder, then moved to turn Fu Shen back inside.
As Yan Xiaohan led them down the path, he said, “If it hurts a bit, it still means it hurts. Next time, even if it’s only for a few moments, find something warmer than these casual clothes to bring with you, alright?”
Fu Shen smiled. A sudden, easy agreeableness grasped him: “Alright.”
Yan Xiaohan must have told the servants to prepare some things before he'd gone to fetch Fu Shen from the cold. By the time they reached the bedroom, a fresh pot of tea was set off to the side, and the shape of the foot warmer could be seen from underneath the covers. After helping Fu Shen onto the bed, he peeled a corner of it away, revealing a set of clothes that had been left there to soak in the heat.
For a moment, Fu Shen was speechless. That warmth from before surged at this unexpected act of thoughtfulness, overflowing uncontrollably from his chest.
One would think, after all this time together, Yan Xiaohan’s care wouldn’t surprise him as much as it still did — as much as it always did.
Unaware of Fu Shen’s thoughts, Yan Xiaohan helped him change, speaking almost absent-mindedly, "Your clothes are cold from staying out there, who knows how long it'll take to warm them up again. It'll be quicker to just wear these instead, and you'll be much more comfortable afterwards, too…"
Though he was always careful whenever he helped Fu Shen dress and undress, it was inevitable for some accidental touches to happen. Usually, Fu Shen didn’t mind them, and neither did Yan Xiaohan think too much about it, but this time, when Yan Xiaohan’s knuckles brushed across his bare collar as he adjusted the robe, Fu Shen startled slightly at the cold touch.
Yan Xiaohan noticed immediately and pulled his hand back. “What’s wrong?”
“Your hand…” Fu Shen started, somewhat dazed.
It didn’t take too long for Yan Xiaohan to understand. He smiled a bit and asked, “Is it cold? On my way back, I had to make a detour and fetch a certain reckless man from freezing to death.”
"What freezing to death…" Fu Shen retorted, but his heart wasn't into it. It seemed that light touch set him on a long, winding path, thoroughly distracting him.
It had never occurred to him before, or perhaps just not quite like this, but Yan Xiaohan was always warm. His touch, his expressions, even his voice, whether he was scolding or teasing or speaking casually, would unfailingly be mixed with the affection of someone who held him in his heart.
Fu Shen was not familiar with this, a touch whose innumerable, unspeakable emotions were removed from his reach by a thin layer of ice. An unreasonable sense of loss gripped him, driven by a tiny, greedy animal in his heart he hadn’t realized had existed there.
Of course, Yan Xiaohan wasn’t blind to Fu Shen’s distraction. It was only because he looked to be in deep contemplation that he decided to sit aside and let him gather his thoughts without disturbance, finishing dressing him and pulling the blanket over his legs before he stood to pour some tea.
When he turned back, he settled beside Fu Shen and offered the tea to him, “Drink some of this before you lie down, Jingyuan. It’ll help warm you up.”
However, not only did Fu Shen not take the cup, he reached out and grasped Yan Xiaohan’s free hand instead, pulling it up to press it sloppily against the hot porcelain of the cup. The tea nearly spilled over the edge at the sudden movement.
Before Yan Xiaohan could ask, Fu Shen made a face, tugging at his other hand. He said inexplicably, “This one, too.”
With no other choice, Yan Xiaohan did as urged, adjusting his grip on the cup so that it was now settled between both his palms, Fu Shen’s hands pressing against the back of his own.
After a long moment, Fu Shen asked, “Is it… Are you warmer now?”
Fu Shen did not know how to take care of others. Casual conversation and teasing was easy, scolding came even more naturally. Only these short sentences filled with feelings of concern that silently and boldly and honestly conveyed to the other person I care , though it was genuine, coming from his mouth, it ended up sounding slightly awkward.
Even if he was insincere, Yan Xiaohan would have been moved just from hearing these words from him. He tempered the smile that wanted to show itself, saying somewhat dishonestly, “Not yet.”
Fu Shen’s brows twitched. Yan Xiaohan’s fingers really were still cold. He frowned, then pressed a little more firmly against Yan Xiaohan’s hands, sandwiching them even more tightly between his own and the cup.
With a laugh, Yan Xiaohan said, “You’ll break the cup at this rate. Here, if you rub a bit, it’ll help warm them up.”
Fu Shen took his instruction to heart, rubbing diligently, nearly wiping off a layer of skin. It wasn’t until Yan Xiaohan reminded him of the tea that he slowed down, not wanting to spill it on the sheets, and after that Yan Xiaohan fell quiet.
After a rubbing for a while, Fu Shen looked up at him, intending to ask if his hands were warmer now that the cold had dissipated, but then he caught sight of his expression and stopped short.
There were hundreds of unspoken words in that one look, a thousand affections left unexpressed.
“What is it?” Yan Xiaohan asked.
Fu Shen blinked, then asked: “You weren’t cold at all, were you?”
“I was,” Yan Xiaohan replied, and there a lilt in his voice that made Fu Shen think he was talking about something other than his cold hands. Yan Xiaohan smiled, eyes softening around the edges. All the world’s tenderness seemed to be concentrated within this gaze when he added: “Though not anymore.”