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Even in human form, Da Qing’s ears wanted to flatten against his head. His mouth wanted to hiss. He wanted to swat and scratch or back away. The hole in the SID lab had taken lao-Zhao and then Shen Wei had jumped after him. It had swallowed them without a trace, and still it was hanging there, yawning ominously.
Unlike the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s portals, which smelled of spice and sulphur, this had an absence of scent, and it was drawing waves of static electricity across Da Qing’s skin towards it. If he’d been in cat form, it would have felt even worse.
But lao-Zhao could be lost in there. Perhaps he needed someone with keen cat senses to lead him home. And Shen Wei—he might be the Black-Cloaked Envoy, but he was supposed to be resting after being held in Dixing. What if he didn’t have enough power? What if he needed help? When had he last eaten?
*
Da Qing took a deep breath, gripped the bag in his hand and leapt. The world slid out of existence as the hole closed around him.
Inside was an endless purple swirl of cosmic confusion. It didn’t feel like anything. Objects danced in the distance, but he couldn’t make any of them out. “Lao-Zhao!” he shouted, with all his strength. “Lao-Zhao!”
His cries vanished into the vastness.
“Lao-Zhao! Professor Shen!” Da Qing looked around, starting to panic. He’d never felt so alone, not in all his ten thousand years. Where was this? Where was the way back?
“Da Qing!” said a voice behind him, and he whirled around to see Shen Wei, still pale-lipped and gripping his side through his sweater vest. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow—was he getting worse? “Da Qing, why did you come here?”
“Where’s lao-Zhao?”
“He’s gone back to the war. There, look—we’re meeting him for the first time.” Shen Wei pointed into the dizzying void, and following his finger, if Da Qing squinted, he could see Kunlun and the Envoy sitting on a clifftop in the night, tiny and real.
The Envoy said something, and Kunlun laughed. His eyes were shining, his smile gentle, and Da Qing’s heart ached. When his memories had come back, he’d realised lao-Zhao must be Kunlun, but to see him—his familiar face back in that ancient setting, the long hair and blue robes—it made it real for the first time. “Am I there, too?”
“You were just a minute ago. Then the gong rang for dinner.” Shen Wei smiled fondly, and Da Qing remembered why he’d come.
“You need to eat.” He thrust the bulging plastic bag he’d brought at Shen Wei. It was nearly cold now, all the heat leaching from the takeout into the strange purple nothing-space, but it would taste all right. Oh, and since lao-Zhao wasn’t here… “Don’t you tell him that I’m feeding you. If he knows I can fend for myself, he’ll think he can stop taking care of me.”
Shen Wei stared at him. “You came into the wormhole to bring me food?”
“Both of you. This hole doesn’t have any smell so there can’t be anything to eat here, and you need strength to come home again.” Da Qing pointed at Shen Wei sternly. “You both have to come home again. All right?”
A complicated expression crossed Shen Wei’s face. In the distance, where Kunlun and the Envoy were sitting, the sun was already sending its first rays across the horizon, and Kunlun—lao-Zhao—stretched out his arms and yawned. Time must work differently there.
“Well?” said Da Qing. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Yes, of course.” Shen Wei blinked and looked into the bag. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me by sharing.” While Shen Wei took out the dishes, Da Qing tried to make himself comfortable. After a couple of wobbly attempts, he managed to sit on the nothing. It wasn’t as good as a couch, but it was better than standing in the insubstantial void.
Shen Wei sat too. He didn’t seem to find the nothing-space disconcerting. Maybe it reminded him of his own portals, despite the absence of smell. He ate well, keeping half an eye on lao-Zhao and his younger self, and colour started to return to his face.
“You should go back,” he said, when they’d finished. “It’s not safe to stay here.”
“What about you? What about him?” Fortified by his full belly, Da Qing stuck his chin out. “I’m not going back without him.”
“Someone needs to be there to deal with—whatever’s happening in Dragon City, and you are the Deputy Chief of the SID. I can hold the wormhole steady. I’ll bring him back.”
It was a meaningless promise. Even the Envoy couldn’t control the Hallows, and the Hallows had done this. And Shen Wei still looked drawn; the food hadn’t been enough. But he was right that lao-Zhao would want Da Qing to keep an eye on things at home. “I’ll go back,” conceded Da Qing, “after you’ve rested.”
Shen Wei blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You were supposed to be recuperating. You can look after him better if you get some sleep first,” said Da Qing. He didn’t say it was disconcerting seeing the Black-Cloaked Envoy as weak as a kitten, but it was. Shen Wei had always been indomitable. “Can you hold the wormhole while you sleep?”
“I could if I had to, but it’s not necess—”
“Then I’ll keep watch,” interrupted Da Qing. He had hunting instincts: in cat form, he could wait by a mouse hole from sun-up to sundown, barely blinking. He could certainly stand sentry here for an hour or two.
“I don’t—” Shen Wei’s gaze returned to Kunlun. “I don’t want to miss anything.” He said it quietly, as if to himself. Then he looked at Da Qing. “I’m fine.”
Da Qing frowned. Shen Wei didn’t have to worry about missing anything—he’d been there at the time. Did he not remember? Or was he being sentimental? Either way, the problem was the same. “You haven’t changed after all these years! You still think being a leader means doing everything yourself.”
“Da Qing—”
“Hei Pao Shi.” Da Qing stood up and put his hands on his hips. “We can bring him back together.” It wasn’t just about a division of labour, or making sure Shen Wei was okay. He needed Shen Wei to acknowledge his claim—that lao-Zhao was important to both of them.
For a moment, Shen Wei’s jaw was firm, his posture stubborn. Then he let out a silent breath and nodded, and Da Qing knew he understood. “I’ll rest just for a little while. You’ll keep watch?”
“I’ll wake you if anything happens.” And once Shen Wei had slept, Da Qing could leave this horrible place and go back to the lab to keep an eye on things there, in case lao-Zhao found another way home.
Shen Wei lay down as if on solid ground, settling on his back with his hands on his stomach. If Da Qing hadn’t been on lookout duty, he would have curled up at his side for comfort. But after a while, Shen Wei’s eyes closed, and the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out. He really did seem to be asleep.
Da Qing turned his attention to lao-Zhao and their long-ago adventure, playing out like a movie on fast-forward. Lao-Zhao was training with Shen Wei and some of his men, wielding his sword like a feather duster, while Da Qing’s younger self offered helpful critique from the side lines. Lao-Zhao wasn’t too bad, though. How long had he been there now?
They couldn’t lose him. When the Hallows snatched him out of the past, who knew where the timeline would try to take him next? Da Qing folded his arms, determined not to fall asleep. He had to be ready to pounce.
And if lao-Zhao was still back there when Shen Wei woke up, Da Qing would pass the responsibility on. Shen Wei would do it, whatever the Hallows tried. Especially now he was well-fed and rested, he’d be able to reach out for both of them, find lao-Zhao and bring him home.
END