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It has been a few months since the three children from Yanhui Town began to live in the Marquis’s Manor. What started out as a temporary arrangement gradually became a permanent one, until none of them could ever imagine being sent elsewhere, and especially not separately; Ge Pangxiao and Cao Niangzi were adamant about staying close to their da-ge. They owed him their lives, after all.
Life at the manor was suitably comfortable, but after days of the same routine it began to become a bit boring, and Ge Pangxiao found himself missing the days in Yanhui Town when they would all visit the Shen siblings and he would get more old armours to look at and play with. Shen Yi seemed to sense his longing, because one day he came over to drag out a few old, rusted iron puppets out of storage and left them to Ge Pangxiao to tinker with as much as he wanted. The little butcher’s son was ecstatic and got to work immediately.
Chang Geng was usually kept busy elsewhere, so Ge Pangxiao’s most common companions were the puppets and Cao Niangzi. The latter surprised him a bit, he was sure that they would spend their days either trying to tag along with Chang Geng, or dedicate all of their time to their own hobbies; and yet, they found time to wander over and watch from the side as Ge Pangxiao disassembled the puppets and dug around in their mechanisms. They were usually very quiet and did not announce their presence; many times Ge Pangxiao looked up from his work and nearly jumped when he perceived the other person. If they were feeling generous, Cao Niangzi would offer him a wave.
Half the time Cao Niangzi would bring along something of their own to do, like a book or some sewing, and the two of them would silently exist next to each other. It was nice. It felt like they were bonding, even if they did not speak much.
Today was one of the few days when Cao Niangzi came closer and studied what Ge Pangxiao was doing with some semblance of interest. He was currently messing around with the mechanical skeleton of the puppet’s shoulder and arm, intent on making it move again.
Thinking back on it, he should have warned Cao Niangzi to stay back first, and found a spot for himself that wasn’t in the immediate range of the puppet’s limbs. Unfortunately, both of them leaned in too close, and Ge Pangxiao hit the dysfunctional iron arm way too hard, and next thing he knew the arm swung out and the pair of them were shoved hard enough to fly back and crash to the ground.
Ge Pangxiao quickly blinked the dark spots out of his eyes and warily glanced up at the puppet, then scooted away from it to be safe. The iron contraption stood motionless with its arm out, its rusty body mutely glinting in the sun, as good as a statue. If it wasn’t for his stinging hands and a dull pain in his shoulder, he would have thought that he imagined the whole thing.
While Ge Pangxiao has been staring at the puppet in morbid fascination, Cao Niangzi slowly shuffled over to him, sniffing quietly. They also badly scraped their hands and wrists when they fell, but were much more distressed about it, their eyes quickly going red. The possibility that he would have to handle a crying Cao Niangzi unsettled Ge Pangxiao much more than the puppet or his own injuries.
“Don’t cry,” Ge Pangxiao hissed, already close to panicking.
“I’m not! You don’t cry!” Cao Niangzi retorted weakly. They carelessly wiped at their eye, leaving a small smudge of blood on their cheek.
“I’m not either!” Ge Pangxiao huffed, and turned away from them. The guilt, however, was starting to set in; it was technically his fault for messing with the puppet in the first place. He chewed his lip nervously and glanced at Cao Niangzi out of the corner of his eye. They looked dazed, frowning as they studied the ripped skin on their arms.
“Does it hurt a lot?” Ge Pangxiao asked softly.
“Of course it does,” Cao Niangzi murmured, gingerly dabbing at the blood with their already-stained sleeve. They did not seem angry, however, which only made Ge Pangxiao feel worse.
“Uh,” he shifted awkwardly. “Sorry about that.”
Cao Niangzi shrugged without looking up, concentrating on the raw scrapes. Their eyes were still a little red, but at least they did not look like they were about to burst into tears anymore.
“I think you’ll live,” Ge Pangxiao declared after the awkward pause.
Cao Niangzi finally smiled, albeit weakly, but on their face it looked very cute. “Oh? Maybe I shouldn’t, just to spite you.”
“Please do, or else I’ll get in trouble with da-ge,” Ge Chen grumbled, then instinctively scratched his head and winced when his hair brushed against the cuts. “I really am sorry, though.”
“Stop apologising, I can’t listen to it anymore!” Cao Niangzi brushed him off. “Didn’t it get you, too?”
They compared hands. The injuries were just about the same, the only difference was that Cao Niangzi already started cleaning up theirs, and most of the dry blood has already been wiped away.
“Oh,” Cao Niangzi looked sympathetic as they studied his hands. “I really can’t be mad at you now. It looks so painful.”
“It’s not,” Ge Pangxiao couldn’t help but brag. “I don’t even feel it that much.”
“I don’t believe you,” Cao Niangzi frowned. “You’re just acting brave.”
“I’m not acting, I just— hey, ow!” Ge Pangxiao quickly took away his hand as soon as Cao Niangzi’s cold fingers brushed against the torn skin on his wrist. They raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you touch it, it hurts,” Ge Pangxiao said defensively.
“Ugh, whatever,” Cao Niangzi put their hands in their lap and stretched out their legs. “We should probably go find some bandages.”
“Yeah, um…” Ge Pangxiao fiddled with his fingers. “I don’t really know where the medical supplies are.”
“Me either!” Cao Niangzi said cheerfully. “We can wait for da-ge to come back.”
“Well, or a servant,” Ge Pangxiao said. He wasn’t sure if he was comfortable bothering Chang Geng with this, even though deep down he knew that their da-ge would not mind.
“Whoever comes along first,” Cao Niangzi amended, brushing a few strands of hair out of their eyes and leaving another red smudge on their face.
“You’re smearing blood all over yourself,” Ge Pangxiao pointed out.
“Oh?”
Without pausing to think, Ge Pangxiao reached out and wiped off the leftover blood on Cao Niangzi’s cheek with his thumb. He was a bit too rough, judging by how they screwed their eyes shut and huffed, but they didn’t complain. Good enough.
“What will you do with that thing?” Cao Niangzi asked after a while, motioning towards the offending puppet.
“I’m a little pissed, so I might pull it apart for scraps,” Ge Pangxiao said honestly.
Cao Niangzi’s eyes glinted. “An execution.”
Ge Pangxiao side-eyed them. “Sure?” Cao Niangzi seemed satisfied with the answer, and even offered Ge Pangxiao a smile.
Chang Geng paused as he saw the two of them sitting huddled together on the ground, ruffled like baby birds, staring down an old iron puppet. “What are you two up to?”
Both of them immediately jumped to their feet.
“Da-ge!”
“Wah, da-ge~!”
~~~
Ge Chen has never been on such a serious mission before this, but it seemed straightforward enough; find as many secret entrances for the hidden passages in the mountain as possible, don’t act suspicious, report their findings whenever possible. So far, everything has been going well; for the most part, Ge Chen acted like he usually would while pretending that he had no ulterior motives, while his partner was the one who usually slipped into different personalities to sell whatever story they happened to be going with at the time. They were also the one who asked all the right questions while all Ge Chen had to do was listen carefully and store the answers in his memory.
He snuck over a glance. The partner, Cao Niangzi — no, Cao Chunhua now, — was sitting closer to the cave entrance, murmuring something under their breath as they scanned a few pieces of paper written in another language, tilting them to make as much use of the dying daylight as possible.
“Come over here, you’ll ruin your eyesight,” Ge Chen called. Cao Chunhua startled out of their focus and blinked owlishly at him, then obediently came closer to the circle of light cast by the lamp, settling down to read again. Placated, Ge Chen went back to carving yet another one of his wooden birds.
“How many of these are you going to make?” Cao Chunhua asked.
“Huh? Oh, I don’t know,” Ge Chen shrugged. “Until I get sick of them, I guess.”
“This one looks different.” Cao Chunhua laid the papers on their lap and squinted at the bird currently taking form in Ge Chen’s hands.
“It’s going to be a little smaller,” Ge Chen explained. “And I’m making the neck shape different so it can lean down and peck.”
“Why would it need to peck?”
“To look natural, I guess.” Ge Chen paused to carefully carve out an eye socket. “I also just want to see if I can make it happen.”
Cao Chunhua laughed quietly. “The main reason you do things, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Ge Chen shrugged and focused on the beak, giving it tiny nostrils. Cao Chunhua hummed in acknowledgement and settled down, rustling with their papers, and eventually going quiet. Ge Chen was sure they had fallen asleep until they suddenly spoke.
“Is that…?” Cao Chunhua leaned forward, frowning. “Are you bleeding?”
“Huh?” Ge Chen was genuinely confused. He followed their line of sight and looked down to find a long, clean slice on his left palm, hard to make out in the stark shadows. Dark blood steadily trickled down to his wrist, some of it already smeared into red on his skin. “Oh. Looks like it.”
“How did you not notice?” Cao Chunhua asked incredulously, wrinkling their nose and already reaching for the travel pouch where they stored their medical supplies. Ge Chen shrugged.
“It doesn’t even hurt,” he mumbled, finally covering the cut with his other hand and quickly checking up on his wooden bird. The carving tool had red smears on it, and so did the bird, but luckily it wouldn’t be difficult to carve away the tainted parts of it; this one was only supposed to be good enough for more tinkering, anyways, not actual use. He nevertheless was more worried about ruining his work than he was about any pain or blood loss.
As if offended by his lack of attention, the cut finally began to sting.
Cao Chunhua stopped shuffling around in the supplies and scooted over, right next to Ge Chen. “You should still keep the blood in your body,” they scolded, their hands much gentler than their voice as they lightly gripped his wrist and pulled it closer, clicking their tongue once they got a better look at the cut. Ge Chen couldn’t help wincing as they carefully wiped the blood with a wet cloth. “You don’t have to lie if it hurts,” Cao Chunhua said accusingly. “Who are you trying to look tough for?”
“It really did only start hurting just now,” Ge Chen assured them. Their lips twitched, but they didn’t say anything more.
To their credit, they made quick work of it. By the time they neatly wrapped up his hand and tied off the bandage, the cut didn’t sting quite so much anymore, and the furrow between Cao Chunhua’s eyebrows gradually began to smooth out. Ge Chen caught himself feeling much more endeared by it than he should.
“There,” Cao Chunhua pat his hand and let go. “Don’t move it too much for now.”
“What would I do without you,” Ge Chen said dramatically.
“Wither away with your life-threatening wound, of course,” Cao Chunhua quipped.
“It’s just a small cut.”
“It takes up half of your hand,” Cao Chunhua said dryly.
“Like I said, small.” Ge Chen grinned. “You don’t need to worry.”
“Who’s worried about you!” Cao Chunhua shot back, smacking his arm. “Go back to your bird.”
“Thank you for your medical expertise, xiao-Cao,” Ge Chen said solemnly, a smile tugging at his lips as he pat Cao Chunhua’s head. They allowed a few moments of it before squirming away.
“Be more careful,” they huffed, fixing their hair.
~~~
Cao Chunhua quietly sneaking into his room or workspace is something that Ge Chen has long become accustomed to; he even stopped flinching when he would realise that he is no longer alone, usually feeling the human presence rather than hearing Cao Chunhua’s footsteps, so feather-light they were nearly soundless. His friend loved sneaking up on him, impossibly smug every time they managed to startle him.
Now, Ge Chen was even more alarmed when he heard shuffling behind him, and Cao Chunhua — usually silent, careful — scrambled their way through the window and immediately lost their balance as soon as they were inside the room, clinging to the wall to stay upright. They were visibly shaking.
“Xiao-Cao?” Ge Chen jumped to his feet. “Hey?”
Cao Chunhua startled, hand flying up to cover their side. “Bird,” they whispered.
“Huh?” Ge Chen froze, heart sinking when he saw the slowly growing red spot on their clothes. “You — when did — who?”
“Mission,” Cao Chunhua gritted out. “Went wrong. Someone talked. Do you still have the birds?” They took a step and almost collapsed, cursing quietly under their breath; Ge Chen instinctively stepped forward and grabbed their shoulder, ready to hold them up if need be.
“How urgent is it? Are you sure it can’t wait?” Ge Chen fretted. With his support, Cao Chunhua slowly hobbled over to the table, their face gradually becoming paler and paler.
“Very. No time,” they muttered, blinking quickly as they scanned the work table. They spotted what they were looking for and bent over to reach for it; then paused, their face twisting in pain.
“Easy, easy.” Ge Chen’s hands hovered around them, but afraid to touch lest he hurts them more by accident. “Xiao-Cao, it’s a lot of blood.”
“I’ve noticed,” Cao Chunhua said hoarsely and, gathering up their strength, pushed Ge Chen away. “Letter. I need to send one.”
Ge Chen was becoming frustrated, and he quickly looked over his work table, certain there would be a spare bird there. There wasn’t one. “But —“
“Enough,” Cao Chunhua hissed, slowly sinking to the floor and slumping over the table. “I need a bird. Right now.”
“You need medicine,” Ge Chen spat out while flying around the room, knocking scrap and tools off of his table, digging around in the shelves trying to find at least one single bird; he knew he had tons of those things, where the fuck did they all go? His hands were shaking faintly; he couldn’t tell if the quiet dripping of blood on the floor was real or his mind playing tricks on him.
He finally managed to dig out a wooden bird from a box of miscellaneous machine model parts and rushed over to Cao Chunhua, who somehow managed to write out a small letter despite trembling all over, in acceptably legible, if slightly messy, handwriting. There were a few smudges of blood on the paper.
“I got it,” Ge Chen snatched the letter out of their hands and hurriedly began folding it. “You just… relax and stay still. Keep your hand on the wound. Damn it.”
Cao Chunhua just coughed in response.
The next few moments passed by in a complete blur. By the time Ge Chen was back to being aware of his surroundings, he was already tossing the bird into the window; it spread its little wooden wings and flew off to complete its mission. He was now free to fuss and pretend his soul wasn’t trying to leave his body. At this point he could smell the blood in the air.
“I’ll be right back, just…” Ge Chen wrung his hands. “Just stay here.”
“Where… would I even go?” Cao Chunhua asked weakly, their voice barely audible. Ge Chen hesitated, then forced himself to walk out. First, get them help, then there will be time for everything else.
He managed to look calm enough to flag down a younger Institute apprentice and tell her to urgently find a doctor. She looked at him in alarm and ran off without asking any questions, to his immense relief. Then he immediately returned.
In the small amount of time that he was gone, Cao Chunhua gave up completely and opted for laying right on the floor, curled up on their side with both of their hands resting protectively over their injury. They looked like a lonely, very sad shrimp. Ge Chen knew from experience that the floor was horrifically uncomfortable to lay on; he sat down next to them, carefully pulling them up to lay their head on his thigh. They sniffed, but otherwise didn’t react, their eyes closed.
“Hey.” Ge Chen flicked their forehead. “Don’t fall asleep.”
Cao Chunhua blinked and shot him a scandalised expression, then rubbed their forehead with their least bloody hand. “My day. Is going horribly. And now… now I can’t even sleep?” They complained. Their tone was forcibly nonchalant, but it was clearly difficult for them to speak.
“You need to wait a little first. Then you can sleep as much as you want,” Ge Chen promised.
The only response he received was an incoherent sound, but it was good enough to signal that Cao Chunhua was still vaguely alive. Ge Chen wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, and he was too restless to keep them still; he ended up combing through Cao Chunhua’s messy hair.
There wasn’t much else he could do.