Chapter Text
The World Championships conclude in the first week of July, just as the weather is beginning to warm. Geneva feels alive this time of year, green rolling hills spreading out as far as the eye can see and lakes a clear cerulean blue that reflects the soft clouds in the sky.
Summer has always been Zhang Xinjie’s favorite season. As a child, the warming weather ushered in the end of the school term which meant the end of class and cram school. It makes Zhang Xinjie yearn for the feeling of heat beating down the back of his neck, and the cool breeze in his face, for long hours of fishing and cricket and football matches with the kids in his neighborhood.
Coincidentally, summer is the one season of the year that Tyranny’s professional team gets three weeks off of training to reset for the upcoming season. After back-to-back competition in the playoffs and an intense month at the World Championships, Zhang Xinjie is more than ready for a little time off.
Stepping off of the plane, he takes in his first breath of Qingdao’s air.
It’s good to be home.
As exhausted as he is, there are still responsibilities a vice-captain can’t shirk. But on the cab ride back to Tyranny’s headquarters, Zhang Xinjie wastes no time booking a train ticket home.
This time of year the building is quiet, with only a skeleton team of engineers working on upgrading the team's weapons for the next season. Zhang Xinjie sighs in relief when he notices Han Wenqing’s already gone, saving him a lengthy lecture that can definitely wait for a couple of weeks.
He submits his notes to the strategy team, and is about to hand in his player card for safekeeping when Qiao Guangjun comes barreling down the corridor, looking breathless.
“Yes?” Xinjie prods, as the engineer coughs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Do you need something?”
Qiao Guangjun looks pleadingly at him, Desert Dust’s worn and scratched player card held out in his hand like an offering. “Captain Han just took his leave of absence yesterday. Do you think… maybe… you could drop this off to his uh… personal residence?”
Zhang Xinjie frowns. “You do realize summer vacation technically started yesterday?”
To his credit, Qiao Guangjun’s flushes, but doesn't waver.
“He gave us blanket permission to call if we needed anything.”
Xinjie sighs, recognizing a losing battle when he sees one and takes the card from the grateful engineer.
It’s rare that silver weapons are completed so far ahead of schedule and it would benefit Tyranny to have Han Wenqing test the weapon out sooner rather than later, giving the R&D team extra time to iron out any kinks.
“I'll do it. But after that, I’m really on vacation.”
“Captain?”
There is a quiet muffle of voices over the phone before Han Wenqing clears his throat and answers, “Xinjie?”
Han Wenqing's voice is low and husky, still gravelly with sleep even though it’s almost noon. “Did I catch you sleeping?”
There's a pause.
"No. Did something happen?”
“The R&D team finished updating your silver weapon today, they were hoping you could test it out and give them some feedback.”
“That’s fine,” Han Wenqing says, but, is that a sigh?
Zhang Xinjie can swear his captain sounds almost reluctant.
“I’m at my apartment so you can drop the cards off now if you want.”
“Yeah, all right I’ll see you soon.”
Before Han Wenqing hangs up, Zhang XInjie can almost swear he hears a quiet chuckle.
Han Wenqing’s apartment is in a nondescript neighborhood, a ten minute drive from the team’s headquarters. They’ve been team mates for years, but Zhang Xinjie’s never had a reason to be here, seeing his private life, being in his private space. Seeing his apartment, and the somewhat domestic welcome mat neatly arranged outside makes him realize how little they know each other.
He rings the doorbell, blinking when a sleep-mussed Ye Xiu ushers him inside.
"“Senior?" Zhang Xinjie barely manages to hide his surprise. "What are you doing in Qingdao?”
“His flight was redirected,” Han Wenqing says, from inside where he's seated at the dining table, hunched over a plate.
“Funny how these things just happen," Ye Xiu shrugs, his ill fitting t-shirt slipping enough to reveal the shadow of a bruise just below the dip of his collarbones. "Old Han offered to put me up until I sort out my flight back to Beijing.”
“There are three flights to Beijing tonight,” Zhang Xinjie frowns, “you could probably make at least one of them.”
Han Wenqing chooses that exact moment to choke on his breakfast which effectively puts an end to that conversation. Ye Xiu slaps him on the back, none too gently.
“Are you good now?” Ye Xiu asks mildly, when Han Wenqing stops coughing.
“I’ll live, thank you.”
Ye Xiu laughs, settling into the empty chair next to Han Wenqing and gesturing for Zhang Xinjie to do the same. "So, how was your flight?”
“Long,” Xinjie sighs. “I’m ready to go home and sleep for two days straight.”
“Is this a subtle cry for coffee?”
"If you're offering, I wouldn't say no.”
Han Wenqing shakes his head at the exchange but gets up anyway, returning with a full pot of freshly brewed coffee and an extra cup for Zhang Xinjie. He fills the cup, sliding it across the table and Xinjie gratefully accepts, closing his eyes and taking in a deep sip.
Han Wenqing's hip nudges against Ye Xiu's shoulder as he leans over to top up Ye Xiu's empty mug, but neither seem to notice.
"Aren't you having any, captain?" Zhang Xinjie asks, when Han Wenqing sits back down, and there are only two cups of steaming beverage sitting on the dining table.
"I--" Han Wenqing begins, and his eyes flick over to the blue mug of coffee nestled possessively in Ye Xiu's hands. Ye Xiu takes a long sip, catching his eye over the rim of the cup. "No, I'm all right."
They end up in a discussion about the future of the Glory World Championships and the possibility of hosting combined team trainings the next summer. Ye Xiu thinks training should be staggered, with the teams which don't make the playoffs starting early to maximize training time. Aloud, Zhang Xinjie worries the staggered training would only serve to deepen existing fault-lines.
They reach a standstill and turn to Han Wenqing expectantly.
"Will you consider the invitation for next year, captain?"
Han Wenqing shakes his head.
"As the only decent cleric in Glory, you're indispensable," he says with a wry smile, "which means you have to go, and I have to stay."
"It's a shame," Ye Xiu says, pushing his half finished mug of coffee away. "Geneva is beautiful that time of year."
Han Wenqing shoots him a sideways look. "I know. But needs must."
He stands, collecting the empty dishes, rinsing them in the sink before loading them up into the dish washer. Ye Xiu's mug is still half-full of cooling coffee, and Han Wenqing tips it back, draining the cup before he loads that in too.
“So,” Zhang Xinjie says when they run out of small talk, because as friendly as this has all been, it's a faux pas to talk team business in front of a rival. “I have the card, Captain, if you want to take a look at it.”
Ye Xiu looks between Han Wenqing’s faintly amused smile and Zhang Xinjie’s tense, anxious face and gets up.
“All right, I’ll make myself scarce.”
Ye Xiu gets up, casually grabbing a jacket off the coat hanger and pulling it on. It fits him poorly, too large in the shoulders, the sleeves so long they hang over his fingers, swallowing him up. But he doesn’t seem to notice and he turns back to give them a jaunty little wave before he slips outside.
Zhang Xinjie blinks, a little surprised by how at home Ye Xiu looks in Tyranny’s team colors, Han Wenqing’s name splashed across his back.
If Han Wenqing notices, he doesn’t say anything, just watches Ye Xiu leave, his hands shoved into his pockets, his lips pursed like he’s trying hard not to smile.
It’s an expression that looks out of place on Han Wenqing’s stern face, but like this he almost looks fond.