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It was a hard hike all day after the frenetic exit from Thunder City. Liu Sang felt ready to drop by the end of it, and no one had even asked him to take a turn at carrying poor Jia Kezi, or lend a shoulder to Pangzi as he stumbled along on hastily-made crutches. Liu Sang had somewhat mixed feelings about that not-being-asked — each step he took made him newly aware of each bruise and cracked rib, and the sore pounding from inside his head fogged the edges of his perception with pain, but also the assumption that he wasn't capable of helping irritated him. Even if it was accurate.
He missed whoever it was finally calling for a break. It was only when Xiao-Bai caught at his sleeve that he realised everyone had come to a stop. He stopped then as well, and followed the others' cues in slinging his bag to the ground.
They'd been walking for hours, his watch told him. He believed it, but without checking he wouldn't have been able to even hazard a guess at how much time had passed, walking in a silent haze. That was definitely the worst thing, the thing that kept him feeling unbalanced — the uncanny silence accompanying his boots squelching over mud, the lack of rustling and soft snaps as Zhang Qiling beat back some overhanging vegetation, the way he knew that the others were breathing heavily when he looked at them, but not when he didn't.
Liu Sang had wished, often, to turn his hearing off. He wore earplugs and noise-cancelling headphones most of the time for that very reason. But he never could shut it off entirely, and of course he hadn't really wanted to. He relied on it. It was the talent he had to offer the world, and also it was part of him.
What if it never came back?
There was a tight ache in his chest under the physical ones as he unzipped his rucksack, his memory supplying the missing sounds. The rustle of his tent coming out. The clicks as the poles snapped into each other — he could feel them do so under his hands but it wasn't the same as the precise, reliable understanding he was used to, and he found himself checking again and again that they were secure.
He looked up and caught Wu Xie's eye at one point. Wu Xie spoke, and Liu Sang concentrated on trying to read his lips — it was context and a good guess that gave him, Do you want help? A flash of stubborn pride made him shake his head. He regretted it a moment later, not least because the movement sent up a new flare of pain from his damaged ears, but it already seemed too late to capitulate.
He finished puting the tent up. In silence. It was only his imagination that was creating a pressure against his ears, as he strained uselessly to use them. But he had shelter, finally, and he crouched inside it next to his rucksack, with his bedding the next thing to take out, and all at once he was utterly done. Setting out his bedroll was an effort that felt insurmountable. Everything hurt, right down to his lungs every time he breathed.
An unexpected touch to his arm made him recoil and spin around, painfully and embarrassingly aware that his eyes were stinging, and his breaths were coming out ragged. "Get lost!" he snarled, and Xiao-Bai flinched back.
She moved her lips. Sorry, sorry!
She hadn't meant to sneak up on him, obviously, but knowing that just made Liu Sang feel worse. "Go away," he snapped, and turned his head away so that he wouldn't have to see her wounded expression.
When he looked back again she was gone.
Being left alone was better. Definitely. Liu Sang hugged his arms around himself and for the first time realised that his breathing was still fast and uneven — and probably audible to anyone near the tent who felt like listening. He forced himself to slow it down, swallowing firmly around the tightness in his throat.
Things were fine. Fine. And besides, he had no idea how he would go about asking for help.
Also, he still needed to unpack. He stared at his rucksack, as if that by itself would achieve anything.
The tent flap twitched, and he straightened his back defensively. Opened his mouth to force whoever it was to go away.
It was Zhang Qiling.
"I'm fine," Liu Sang said, although he wasn't sure his voice contained what he wanted it to. He would have been irritated at anyone else — with Zhang Qiling, he was afraid he just sounded like he was whining. "I don't need anything."
Zhang Qiling didn't react. He came fully into the tent, and put the dish he was holding down onto the floor. Then he crouched, took Liu Sang's rucksack out of his hands, and began to take the contents out.
"I don't need any help," Liu Sang said, definitely whining now.
Zhang Qiling continued not to pay any attention to Liu Sang's words. He unrolled the bedding and laid it out with brisk, efficient movements. When he had finished he sat back on his haunches, not saying anything.
"Thanks," Liu Sang said, embarrassed, and Zhang Qiling gave a slight nod. He reached out to pick up the dish he'd brought in, and offered it out over the space next to him on top of the sleeping bag.
Liu Sang obeyed the implied order, and sat down. His ribs caught once again as he moved, and he held his breath through the jolt. He took the dish from Zhang Qiling. It held a heated-up ration meal and a blister pack of strong painkillers. "Thanks," he said, again.
Zhang Qiling gave him another nod. It was a relief not to have anything to lip-read.
Zhang Qiling continued not to demand any attention while Liu Sang first swallowed the painkillers with some water, and then ate. He was just… there. Somehow making it possible for some of the tension to drain from Liu Sang's shoulders.
When he'd finished eating, Zhang Qiling took the plate back. He looked meaningfully at the sleeping bag.
"Yeah," Liu Sang said. "Yeah, I'm planning on it." It was unsettling, knowing that he was speaking and feeling the vibration inside his skull, but being unable to hear it. He began to work out the knots in his bootlaces.
By the time he'd finished getting his boots off, the tent was empty again. He couldn't be bothered taking off his clothes — they had dried out, anyway, after the day's walking, and it wasn't like his other set were in any better shape at this point. He eased his way carefully inside the sleeping bag, and then tried a variety of positions until he found one which was, if not completely comfortable, at least good enough to allow him to sleep.
-
He did sleep. For a while. Until he woke up with a racing heart and his breath choking in his throat. Not even from a specific nightmare, just — his body bearing the imprint of panic. There were screams ringing in his ears and he had to clench and shake the fabric of his sleeping bag before he could quite believe that no, they weren't something he had heard. Not from him; not from anyone else. His world was still silent, and they were only his imagination.
It was dark. His watch's luminous dial told him it was nearly 2am. There was a muted firelight glow through one side of the tent fabric.
Too wide awake now to want to just lie there, he got up, moving slowly in appeasement to his sore and stiffened muscles. He put his feet into his boots without doing up the laces, and exited the tent mostly by feel.
The campfire was burning brightly under a freshly-added load of wood. Li Jiale was sitting next to it — he gave Liu Sang a weak smile before he spoke, mouthing carefully, Couldn't sleep?
Liu Sang returned a wry expression of his own. Thankfully, Li Jiale didn't seem to be in a particularly talkative mood — he didn't make any attempt at further conversation. Liu Sang sat down, close enough to count as next to him while maintaining a healthy amount of personal space, and joined him in staring at the fire.
It was a quiet night. Not much wind, and there were stars out. No clouds. That was good. Liu Sang felt he'd had enough of storms to last a lifetime.
He lost track of time, staring into the flames, until he startled at an unexpected movement in the corner of his eye. He whipped his head round, slamming instantly back into his body and all its aches he'd tried to forget about.
Xiao-Bai smiled a little guiltily. She was wearing her sleeping bag half-unzipped around her. Didn't mean to sneak up, Liu Sang lip-read, filling in the gaps himself between the words he could make out in the flickering light. Can I join you?
Li Jiale nodded, and Liu Sang cleared his throat, scratchy from the smoke, and said, "Sure."
She smiled more widely, and sat down in the gap between the two men. Li Jiale responded to something she said. A moment later she prodded Liu Sang and waited for him to turn his head. Warm enough? she asked, and held out a corner of her sleeping bag.
"I'm fine," Liu Sang said, and was relieved that she didn't press it and just snuggled the sleeping bag more tightly around her own shoulders.
Eventually, her head nodded, and then drooped down onto Li Jiale's shoulder. He met Liu Sang's eyes in mild panic, and then shook her arm gently. Liu Sang didn't catch what he said to her, but presumably something about going to bed.
Sensible advice for all of them, since they had a lot of ground to cover yet. Liu Sang stood up too, and nodded a silent goodnight to the others.
He was cold, as he climbed back into his camp bed, but he felt calmer for his time at the fire. So it evened out.
-
The next morning was bad. Liu Sang woke with the bright sunlight stabbing through the tent's thin fabric, raising the temperature inside to an already uncomfortable degree. When he sat up his head pounded, much worse than it had been the previous evening, with pain radiating from his left ear. He touched that side of his face gingerly, trying to block out the sense memory of the bug scrabbling inside his flesh, and the awful pressure of the sound vibrations in Thunder City tearing his eardrums.
Packing helped him displace the memories somewhat. When he emerged from his tent he found that the others were in the process of striking theirs. At least he didn't seem alone in having been hit by the full effects of the day before, judging by how everyone looked rather tired and wan.
A small stone hit his sleeve and he looked up in annoyance. Pangzi was in the process of flicking a second one, sitting beside the fire. When he saw that he had Liu Sang's attention he switched to vigorously waving him over, gesturing to the tinned meat he was frying in a pan. Want some?
It didn't look terribly appetising, but his portion smelled good and tasted okay, helped by the dried herbs Pangzi sprinkled on top. Pangzi was apparently in the mood for chatting, but Liu Sang wasn't, and kept his eyes mostly down on his plate as if he hadn't noticed the attempts at communication. His jaw ached as he chewed.
It was a steep uphill climb today, but Zhang Qiling had promised them all that they would reach the Tianlin Hotel by nightfall if they kept up the pace. Whether it would prove true or not, that goal hung temptingly in front of Liu Sang as he plodded onwards, one foot in front of the other. Head mostly down. The choking fog was thankfully not in evidence here, but it was still damp, though getting dryer as they slowly rose out of the valley, and the wet grass was at times dangerously slippery underfoot.
Liu Sang had taken more of the painkillers Zhang Qiling had given him before setting out. They were doing less and less to help, and he felt dizzy besides. Pain spread tendrils down each side of his face to grip his whole head in a vise. It resonated in him with each footfall, managing to mask the older aches from his ribs almost completely.
He walked. He'd stopped looking up at all. When something grabbed his arm, and held on, he merely pulled against the force at first, and it took several long syrupy seconds before he recognised it as a hand. Holding him still. He staggered slightly as his legs tried to adjust to the lack of motion, and blinked hard against the unwelcome brightness of the sky.
Wu Xie. Holding his arm. Saying… something. Liu Sang stared at him, uncomprehending. Wu Xie tapped against his hand, in what Liu Sang recognised as the knocking language, but even that refused to form for him into coherence.
A shadow cutting across the brightness made him flinch — Zhang Qiling leaning in to press a freezing hand against Liu Sang's forehead. He jerked away from that cold touch but that unbalanced him, and then Wu Xie and Zhang Qiling both grasped his arms firmly and lowered him to sit. Zhang Qiling kept him upright while Wu Xie unscrewed the cap from a water bottle and wrapped his hands around it.
Liu Sang drank. Too fast — it churned in his stomach and he retched, struggling not to throw up. He swallowed thickly and tried to hand the bottle back, but Wu Xie gestured with his finger and thumb. A little more. Reluctantly, Liu Sang took some more small sips.
It was a general rest break, apparently. Once he was finally allowed to give back the water, Xiao-Bai tried to hand him a ration bar, but he pushed that away. He felt nauseous at the idea of eating, and moving his jaw to drink had been bad enough. He bent over his knees, dignity be damned, and wrapped his arms tightly around his head, pressing down to try and control the pain.
He was left alone for — he wasn't sure; time was blurry. But eventually his elbow was tapped until he gave in and lifted his head, squinting at the over-bright daylight. There was a white square held up in front of him, and it took him several seconds to process that it was paper, being held up by Glasses, with writing on it. Can you walk?
Adrenaline forced him up. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I can keep up —" and Glasses clamped a hand around Liu Sang's arm as vertigo swooped and he tilted. But he struggled to his feet nonetheless. He hadn't realised — he hadn't expected the visceral fear of being left behind, again, even though last time in Thunder City it had been at his own insistence.
He hated how strong his panicked reaction was. The world was slippery, unfocused, fever-tinged, and he belatedly realised that at some unmarked point he'd tipped over into being extremely unwell. He didn't know what he could do about it, though, other than keep walking. Don't leave me here, his thoughts pleaded, and maybe he'd said it out loud, too. Had he? He couldn't tell. Couldn't hear. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Xiao-Bai was flitting about anxiously in front of him, and then settled under his other arm in support. Glasses was still holding him up on his other side. They pulled him forward, and with each step it was as though he was losing contact with the earth and with gravity, tilting randomly this way and that, searching for a balance that didn't exist.
He had no idea how long he endured it for. The upwards slope remained steep under his boots and his chin bobbed against his chest and his eyes were — not closed, but mostly so, so that he just saw blurred shapes of light and dark through his eyelashes. There was a very faint ringing in his ears, but nothing else, and without sound — small stones crunching under his soles, the voices of the rest of the group, the wind that tugged against his hair — he felt adrift. Like he wasn't moving at all. He'd felt like that yesterday, but this was much worse. He wasn't even certain that he was entirely conscious, as opposed to in some weird, shifting nightmare.
But after a long, long time someone was tapping his face, squeezing his arm — enough that he eventually blinked firmly and lifted his head, the world rushing vertiginously back. High walls loomed in front of him.
The Tianlin Hotel. They had made it.
It was Wu Xie and Li Jiale now who each had one of Liu Sang's arms over their shoulders, which was disconcerting — he hadn't noticed the swap. And it was clearly hours later, with the sky now darkening towards evening.
They entered the central space, Pangzi stumping along with his makeshift crutch under one arm and Glasses under the other. Zhang Qiling carried Jia Kezi's body. And Xiao-Bai dashed ahead with incomprehensible energy.
Liu Sang actually smiled. They'd made it. Somehow.
Huo Daofu came out of a door and his face went through about ten different expressions in a couple of seconds. Wu Xie's body shook against Liu Sang's, and when Liu Sang looked across at him blearily he realised that it was with laughter. At not being dead, presumably.
But it was Liu Sang that Huo Daofu frowned at and then made a beeline for, barking questions far too fast for Liu Sang to follow, so he just stared at him blankly from within a wash of pain, unable to properly piece anything together. Someone else would answer.
They began moving again, heading indoors. The room that Liu Sang was steered to had a bed, and he thought he had never been so pleased in his entire life to be semi-forcibly lain down. Then Huo Daofu touched the side of his face and Liu Sang made what was probably a horrible squawk — it felt like a flash of fire running down his nerves, and whited out his vision for several seconds.
Huo Daofu snapped something at him, and when Liu Sang shrugged helplessly he rolled his eyes. Stay still, he mouthed, over-exaggerating the words.
It was hard to force himself to do so. Liu Sang closed his eyes briefly, but that didn't help — he needed to know what was going on. Huo Daofu was rummaging through his medical supplies while talking at a rapid-fire pace. To the others, not to Liu Sang. Wu Xie was holding up his hands defensively. Pangzi and Glasses both looked as cheerful as spectators at a sporting match.
None of the group seemed at all inclined to leave. Zhang Qiling was the only one missing — but then he came in too, empty-handed, and took up a position next to the door. An odd inversion of how they had all stood around Wu Xie's bed, and noticing that brought its own touch of vertigo. Liu Sang wasn't someone who made friends. He took jobs as part of a larger team, but that was all. Supposedly. He had said the same to himself even as he'd gone with Wu Xie towards Thunder City.
He had no idea what was in his face, but Xiao-Bai patted his hand and said something with a soothing expression.
Huo Daofu's examination was professional and also awful. By the end of it Liu Sang was gripping the mattress hard with one hand, where he hoped no one could see it, although he was very certain he was fooling nobody. He was shivering, clammy inside clothes that were damp with sweat, and clenching his jaw tightly. He didn't meet anyone's eyes, not wanting to see confirmation that sounds kept leaking out of him anyway.
Huo Daofu flipped open a notebook to a blank page and scrawled across it. He held it up in front of Liu Sang. Ruptured ear drums. Serious infection in left ear. Need to clean out then IV antibiotics and anti-inflammatories.
Liu Sang read it. He didn't realise that a specific response was expected until Huo Daofu sighed heavily — it was perfectly clear even without the audible component — and wrote Consent? underneath in much larger characters.
Well, obviously he did. Liu Sang gave a slightly irritated thumbs-up.
Everyone started moving again, ordered around by Huo Daofu. Liu Sang half-closed his eyes against the ceiling light, wanting to turn his head to find a more comfortable position but afraid of the agony that would come from jostling it. He zoned out a bit, and then snapped back into proper consciousness when someone started unbuttoning his shirt. "I can do it," he said, fumbling the fabric out of Wu Xie's hands. "I can — Let me —"
He couldn't, though. His hands were clumsy, his fingers seemingly unable to find the buttonholes. He gave up, frustrated, and submitted to Wu Xie doing it, his face serious. I'm sorry, Wu Xie mouthed, apology and guilt in his expression, and Liu Sang didn't know what to say. It wasn't his fault. They were even. Wu Xie had saved his life, and Liu Sang had thrown the wrecking ball of naming Wu Xie's illness, and then had followed Wu Xie for reasons that had nothing at all to do with his missing uncle. For Zhang Qiling and Glasses and for the forlorn-seeming hope of saving Wu Xie himself. They were even now, surely; and Liu Sang managed to salve his pride by raising himself onto his elbows to wriggle out of the shirt himself.
At the same time, Xiao-Bai took away the pillow and spread a couple of folded towels across the mattress instead, indicating for him to lay his head on them, while Huo Daofu filled a plastic siphon bottle with saline.
"I'm ready," Liu Sang said, in what he hoped was a confident voice. It was hard to maintain even that illusion as Zhang Qiling knelt on the space on the mattress on Liu Sang's right side, and put his hands firmly on Liu Sang's shoulders, holding him down. He tried anyway. "Don't I get anything to bite on?" he asked, attempting to sound casual and falling far short.
Huo Daofu shook his head. No. He gestured with his fingers around his face, miming relaxing his jaw. Which was easier said than done, since relaxed was the absolute last thing Liu Sang felt at the anticipation of the pain to come. He took a couple of deep breaths, and nodded.
Zhang Qiling's hands pinned Liu Sang in place through the first wave of agony as the saline washed under pressure through the torn and swollen membranes inside his ear. Liu Sang screamed, and thrashed uselessly against him, and screamed some more. He felt it as a vibration in his chest, and that was what he briefly struggled to focus on — that; Zhang Qiling's bruising grip; the thought that it would be over soon over soon oversoon — Then there was a second wave of pain, even worse than the first, and everything splintered into blackness.
-
Liu Sang roused gradually, becoming aware of the bed under him and the covers over him, and the heaviness of his body, and then only after some more time did he have enough presence of mind to open his eyes.
He was still in the same room in the Tianlin hotel, the one Huo Daofu had previously set up as a makeshift hospital for Wu Xie. There was an IV drip going into his arm, and after some consideration he recognised the fuzzy, floating feeling he was experiencing as not quite the absence of pain, but of pain being held at bay by strong drugs. That was fine. He didn't feel any particular desire to move.
He was on the verge of sliding back into sleep again when the door opened and Huo Daofu glanced around it, with the air of someone making a habitual check and not expecting to take any further action. He was actually already moving to automatically close the door again — and then stopped himself and reversed course. You're awake.
Awake. Yes. And coherent enough to have a hope of lip-reading again — but Liu Sang felt almost drowned by a wave of crushing disappointment. The world was still silent. He still couldn't hear.
Obviously he still couldn't hear. Had he really expected Huo Daofu to perform some magic on his torn eardrums? That was plainly ridiculous. Annoyed with himself, Liu Sang pushed himself up onto his elbows. Then subsided as Huo Daofu frowned at him and pointed for him to lie back down before taking a thermometer from the bedside table and putting it in Liu Sang's mouth.
Xiao-Bai poked her head through the door while Liu Sang was still waiting to be allowed to take it out. You're awake! she called, far more exuberant than the same words from Huo Daofu had been. She advanced into the room. Are you okay?
Liu Sang shrugged, nodded, and gestured at the thermometer. Huo Sang caught that, looked at Liu Sang in faint irritation, and pulled it from his mouth. Of course, Liu Sang had missed hearing it beep.
"Hi," Liu Sang said, once he could.
Xiao-Bai looked over to Huo Daofu and repeated her question, realising correctly that he was the one with actual information. Huo Daofu nodded to her, then spoke to Liu Sang with exaggerated slowness. Much better. But stay in bed.
Liu Sang wasn't sure he could get up if he tried, so that was an easy instruction to follow. His bones felt heavy, pinning him to the mattress beneath the weight of the covers. "Who's still here?" he asked Xiao-Bai.
All the team, she said.
Liu Sang hoped she kept up the short sentences, which were easy to follow even if he was surprised by the content. "When are they heading back, then?" he asked.
Maybe tomorrow, Xiao-Bai said, and looked over to Huo Daofu. He said something, and shrugged. Seeing Liu Sang's lack of comprehension, Xiao-Bai added, If you're well enough.
It took Liu Sang a little longer to process that, because he wasn't immediately sure he'd understood properly. He would have expected Wu Xie at least to have already left, to follow Er-shu and find out his condition — and Pangzi needed to have his broken leg properly set, Huo Daofu wouldn't be able to do that out here —
Xiao-Bai kept looking at him like she hadn't said anything particularly unusual. Even though Liu Sang felt that his understanding must be somehow mistaken. Everyone waiting for him didn't make sense.
But while Huo Daofu checked the rest of Liu Sang's vitals, the others on the team began trickling into the room, all expressing what even Liu Sang couldn't mistake as anything other than pleased surprise at finding him awake. He strained to keep lip-reading questions directed to him, although most of them were only variations on asking how he was. Huo Daofu, on the other hand, apparently found speaking slowly too onerous and continued to jot down notes, including instructions on not allowing any water into his ears.
"How am I supposed to wash?" Liu Sang asked in response to that one, feeling unreasonably irritated about it. He had started to register the griminess of his skin, and as soon as he actively thought about it it became almost unbearable.
Someone can help you, Pangzi suggested, cheerfully. He cast around. Tianzhen —
"No!" Liu Sang snapped, mortified at the very idea.
He did reluctantly accept help to walk to the bathroom, though, after feeling the tug of vertigo when he put his feet to the floor. Falling flat on his face would probably be more humiliating. And Huo Daofu, for all his affected lack of personal warmth, was a steady and non-judgemental support. He probably would have been equally professional once inside, but Liu Sang's stubbornness rose to the fore again in an insistence that he could manage by himself. Huo Daofu shrugged and withdrew.
Liu Sang could manage. Slowly, and in stages. The dizziness and vertigo were far more debilitating than his body's soreness. He sat by the drain on the tiled floor and washed his body with the showerhead held in one hand, with only a minimal flow of water coming from it. The residual pain from his ear was there as a reminder whenever he moved his head, and he certainly wasn't going to risk doing anything that might make the infection resurge.
The silence of the running water was deeply disorientating. Partly to distract himself from it, Liu Sang examined his fading injuries carefully, pressing fingers against each bruise and cataloguing the painkiller-dulled sensations. Most of the acute purpling was gone by now, turned to greenish-yellow smears across his torso.
He badly wanted to wash his hair, but he couldn't think how he could manage to do that by himself without getting water in his ears, so in the end he left it.
When he slowly emerged from the shower, it was to find a folded pile of new clothing just inside the bathroom door, with a toiletries bag on top. That was freshly frustrating, because it was a reminder of how helpless he was at present — he had been facing away, hadn't even considered when he'd chosen that position how he wouldn't have any other warning of the door opening. But those things had obviously been slipped inside the room to be helpful, so Liu Sang gritted his teeth and dressed slowly in the clean pyjamas — his own, from the supplies they'd left at the hotel. Then he combed his hair and tied it back neatly, although he had to lean hard against the sink while standing to look in the mirror because his sense of balance continued to be frighteningly unreliable.
By the time he had staggered his way along the bathroom wall and back through the door, he was trembling with effort. The walls were beginning to tilt as much as the floor, and he didn't manage to hold back his exhale of relief at finding Wu Xie on the other side of the door, very clearly waiting for him. Liu Sang clung to his shoulder, and screwed his eyes half-shut as Wu Xie guided his steps, vastly grateful that he was able to make it back to the bed without either falling over or throwing up. Hands prodded at him — Huo Daofu — and Liu Sang slapped him away and then pulled a pillow over his face.
He slept on and off for the rest of the day. He was muzzily aware that the room never seemed to empty — Wu Xie and Xiao-Bai were across the room playing a card game, or Glasses was tapping away on his phone, or Huo Daofu was checking Liu Sang's vitals. Liu Sang would probably have refused dinner, except that it was delivered by Zhang Qiling, and for him Liu Sang found the effort required to sit up and drink the thick soup before sinking back down again in exhaustion.
He woke up properly late the next morning, judging by the bright sunlight through the window, feeling many degrees better. Liu Sang rubbed his eyes, noticing as he lifted his hands that the IV drip had been removed and the back of his hand covered with a neat dressing. He blinked at the sight of Pangzi sitting to one side of the bed in an armchair, his splinted leg supported by a cushion on a low table, shelling peanuts.
Pangzi gave him a little wave. I'm keeping you company, he mouthed.
"Okay," Liu Sang said, not sure why he needed it. He could tell that his fever was all but gone. His ear was still sore, but a degree that was easily manageable.
Pangzi spoke again — too fast for Liu Sang to quite catch all the words, but he got the gist. Packing. Leaving soon.
"Don't you have to pack too?" Liu Sang asked.
Pangzi grinned, and gestured to his leg, saying something which included the word Tianzhen.
Liu Sang rolled his eyes. "Is there anything to eat?" he asked. He actually felt hungry, which was a pleasant change.
Pangzi pointed to the covered bowl on the table beside the bed, and Liu Sang sat up cautiously to reach it, cheered by how much less the room was spinning now. The rice-and-vegetable dish was a fairly plain one, and he devoured it in short order. Pangzi provided conversation, or at least when Liu Sang glanced in his direction he was obviously talking. Since he wasn't remembering to speak slowly and clearly, or indeed to keep his face directed at Liu Sang while he was speaking, Liu Sang didn't feel in the least bit guilty this time about not paying attention.
After a while Xiao-Bai entered, her cheerfulness immediately segueing into a query as to why Liu Sang wasn't up and dressed.
"No one told me to!" Liu Sang protested.
Xiao-Bai put her hands on her hips and threw a clear accusation at Pangzi.
Pangzi waved his hands defensively, protesting to her and then belatedly turning to Liu Sang. I did!
"I've no idea what you were saying to me," Liu Sang snapped at him. "I can't hear, remember?"
Pangzi looked guilty, but also wounded. You know I said, packing! he mouthed carefully.
"How should I have known you meant leaving right now?" Liu Sang demanded.
Pangzi flicked a peanut shell at him. Liu Sang glanced around for something to throw back, but Xiao-Bai planted herself in between them. She turned her back to Pangzi, and gestured to some clothes neatly folded on a chair. Are you okay to get ready?
"Only when you've both gone," Liu Sang said, grumpily.
Xiao-Bai giggled at him but they did leave, Pangzi still hobbling between his crutch and Xiao-Bai's shoulder. Liu Sang tested his legs gingerly against the floor. He felt low on energy, and unsteady, but the dreadful shakiness and vertigo had faded.
He dressed, finishing just before Huo Daofu returned to collect his medical gear and also Liu Sang himself. Liu Sang submitted to having his temperature and pulse briefly checked, and then finally summoned his courage to ask the question he'd been so far avoiding, while it was still just the two of them. "Dr Huo," he said, dragging the words out reluctantly. "Are my ears going to heal?"
Huo Daofu halted what he was doing and stared at Liu Sang in obvious bewilderment. He spoke, but Liu Sang was too tensely strung to be able to trust his lip-reading — and then Huo Daofu clearly recognised that and nodded emphatically at him instead.
Such a wash of relief — it knocked Liu Sang off-balance again for a moment and he had to grab for the edge of the dresser to support himself. Huo Daofu was frowning, though, searching for a notepad. Up to three months for full recovery, he wrote, and then, Didn't you know?
Liu Sang shook his head briefly. He felt… He still felt adrift without the sense he most relied on, but that feeling would end. He would be able to hear again.
There was actual shame on Huo Daofu's face, an odd emotion for him, and when he said, I'm sorry, it looked foreign in his mouth.
Liu Sang shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.
I thought we told you, Huo Daofu said, taking the time to say it slowly and clearly for once. He cast an accusing glance towards the door.
Liu Sang probably should have known. Probably he'd been reassured of it over and over by his teammates, trying to make him feel better, while he'd been too stressed by his fears to focus on what they were saying. Contained in the long streams of chatter from Pangzi that he had ignored. "Please don't — say anything," Liu Sang begged, hastily. He could picture, suddenly, how horrified the others would be at this miscommunication.
Huo Daofu nodded, grimaced apologetically again, and gestured at Liu Sang to come with him.
The two of them piled into the back of a battered taxi. Pangzi got into the front seat on Huo Daofu's order, where he would have the most legroom, and then Zhang Qiling and Wu Xie had a brief but apparently involved silent discussion about who was going to take the final space in the back. It ended with Zhang Qiling squeezing in on Huo Daofu's other side.
The taxi had very little suspension, and the rural road was badly surfaced and full of bumps. Liu Sang thought it might for once be a blessing not to be able to hear — this sort of background screech and clatter was often hellish. In exchange, however, his head began to pound again as they were shaken about. He looked up and caught a glimpse of Pangzi in the mirror, his face white and drawn, catching his breath each time he was jostled from side to side. Zhang Qiling was leaning forward, gripping Pangzi's shoulder tightly.
The train, by contrast, was modern and comfortable. Xiao-Bai carried Liu Sang's bag on for him, and put it on one of the lower bunks. Pangzi, following, flopped down onto the one opposite and sprawled himself out.
"I'm taking one of the top ones," Liu Sang said. He could foresee that he would get no peace otherwise.
He climbed up the ladder and lay on his chosen bunk as the vibrations under him told of the train engine engaging. Pangzi had already brought out a pack of cards, which was proof that Liu Sang had made the right decision. He preferred having some solitude.
…Well, a more honest part of himself pointed out, no he didn't. Not really. He wanted the reassurance of having most of the team where he could see them. His team. Who could have already made this trip back days ago.
He wasn't quite sure what to do with those thoughts. He propped himself up on his bunk and drank the milk tea that Xiao-Bai passed up to him, and watched Wu Xie sit wrapped in his own thoughts by the window, with Zhang Qiling as his shadow hovering always close by.
-
It was after dark when the train finally pulled into Hangzhou station. Liu Sang had been asleep, and he still only felt half-awake as they all piled onto the platform under the sudden glare of the overhead strip-lights. The station was bustling even at this late hour, and Liu Sang almost found himself flinching, despite the eery silence he moved through, from the cacophony his imagination supplied.
Li Jiale left for his own apartment, but everyone else congregated near the exit. There was something of an argument going on. Wu Xie was saying hospital, and Er-shu, and Glasses was frowning at him and gesturing at the nearest clock. Pangzi looked like he was raising his voice too, and Zhang Qiling had his arms crossed and looked unimpressed.
Liu Sang tapped Xiao-Bai's elbow. "What's happening?" he asked her.
She sighed. Arguing, where to go, she told him.
Wu Xie pointed at Liu Sang, who stared back with his best uncomprehending face, but apparently he was being used to illustrate something in the debate rather than being called on for an opinion.
I am going somewhere with a bed, Glasses said, emphatically enough for even Liu Sang to catch the whole sentence.
Pangzi spread the arm which didn't have his crutch under it. Our flat?
Zhang Qiling spoke briefly. Something that made everyone pause.
Wu Xie's face pursed, like he'd tasted something bitter. Then he nodded, and swept his arm in invitation. Come on.
Everyone bent to pick up their luggage. Liu Sang nudged Xiao-Bai's arm again in question.
Wushanju, she said.
Feeling intensely awkward about it, Liu Sang allowed himself to be shuffled along as part of the group. He would have excused himself and gone to find a hotel room on his own, except he knew that that would bring on a whole new barrage of questions and conversation he couldn't properly follow, and he was abruptly so tired of it all. It was much easier to just continue along with the others, and slide into one of the taxis from the rank quickly suborned by Glasses. A drizzling rain was falling.
He knew about what had happened with Wushanju, of course. Everyone on Er-shu's team had heard about the circumstances of Wu Xie and Pangzi getting kicked out. So when the three taxis disgorged them all in front of the gate, it wasn't a surprise to see Wu Xie looking conflicted as he and Pangzi glanced at each other, before doing something which popped the lock open without the need for a key.
Liu Sang still hung back, or tried to. As a partly-unwilling guest at this painful homecoming, he had no idea how to act. He'd become at ease with the professional relationships he'd struck while working for Er-shu, and the desperate mission to Thunder City had contained the same framework. Even the antagonistic interactions he'd had with the Iron Triangle at the South Sea King's tomb had been easier than working out what he should be doing in this situation.
Huo Daofu glanced behind him to see Liu Sang dragging his feet, and doubled back to haul him into Wushanju with everyone else.
Inside, Pangzi had already claimed an entire sofa to flop down on with his splinted leg stretched out. Wu Xie was perched casually on the edge of a table that was probably several hundred years old, holding court. He had his head held up, but there was an air of put-on brashness to him.
Liu Sang leaned back against the nearest wall, feeling more overwhelmed and out of place than ever. He caught Zhang Qiling's glance briefly, and looked away. He should have gone to a hotel after all. His head was aching again, and he closed his eyes.
A hand landed on his forehead, and Liu Sang jerked back and slapped Huo Daofu away. Then he felt his face redden as he realised that everyone was staring at him. "What?" he asked, irritably.
Zhang Qiling, especially, was watching him steadily from where he'd moved across to Wu Xie. It followed that he was the cause of this sudden attention.
Wu Xie waited for Huo Daofu to finish whatever he was saying — Liu Sang deliberately didn't look over at him — and then started gesturing in a troop-marshaling way. Zhang Qiling appeared at Liu Sang's side, picked up his bag, and beckoned.
Following him was clearly better than the alternative of standing around while his condition was discussed, so Liu Sang did so. Zhang Qiling led the way down a couple of corridors. Wushanju was clearly a warren even when half-packed boxes weren't standing around the place and necessitating squeezing past, but the small guest bedroom they arrived at seemed to have been untouched by the eviction process.
Liu Sang sat down on the bed. It was easier to show that he was fine really, just tired, once he was off his feet. "Thanks," he said. He meant to follow it up with a request to tell Wu Xie that he only needed a place to stay for this one night, that he could find somewhere else tomorrow… but against Zhang Qiling's quiet seriousness Liu Sang felt whiny and childish just imagining the words.
Zhang Qiling sat on the very edge of the bed next to him, his expression searching. He held a hand up and out, and then paused. Liu Sang sighed, and nodded, and let Zhang Qiling press the back of his knuckles to Liu Sang's forehead. Although he was certain he didn't have a fever, Liu Sang tolerated this confirming touch as he'd refused Huo Daofu's.
Zhang Qiling finally removed his hand, satisfied, and gripped Liu Sang's shoulder briefly. He tapped with his fingers. Rest.
Liu Sang nodded. "Thanks," he said, again, and all but fell into bed as soon as Zhang Qiling left the room.
-
To his great surprise, Liu Sang didn't wake up until the next afternoon. He wandered through Wushanju in clean clothing (something he'd stopped taking for granted), and thought that the building was completely empty until he tripped over Kanjian playing a handheld game in the courtyard.
Kanjian looked genuinely delighted to see him. He waved vigorously.
"Hi," Liu Sang said, feeling the now-familiar disconcertion at the apparent silence where his voice should be. "You know I can't hear you?"
Kanjian nodded, his mouth scrunching sympathetically, and handed over a piece of paper. I'm going to drive you to the hospital. It was in Wu Xie's writing.
Liu Sang read it, and shrugged. "Okay. We might as well go now."
Kanjian mimed using a spoon. Have you eaten?
"I don't know where anything is here," Liu Sang said, feeling worried and embarrassed all over again at being temporarily dependent on Wu Xie. "I'll just get something from a vending machine."
Apparently that wasn't acceptable — Kanjian mimed for him to wait, and then went and cheerfully rummaged through the kitchen. He turned up the remains of some clearly ordered-in breakfast, but a swarm of starving locusts could hardly have done better at removing everything edible. That left a box of energy bars at the back of a cupboard, and Liu Sang, who had begun to feel steadily hungrier since seeing the evidence of the breakfast he'd missed, decided he had no compunction about taking one of those when Kanjian offered it.
Then they drove to the hospital, and Liu Sang was taken away to be prodded at great length by medical staff, although they did at least numb his face with anaesthetic first. Eventually, through the medium of typing into a tablet, he was reassured by the doctor that the internal damage to his ear, although significant, had a good chance of healing fully. He was ordered to continue taking the same antibiotics that Huo Daofu already had him on, and get plenty of rest.
It was late in the day when everything finally wrapped up, and apparently he hesitated too long when asked if he had anyone at home to look after him, because he ended up being kept overnight. He hadn't seen Kanjian since they'd been separated in the admissions area, and was considering whether he should text… someone? to let them know where he was, when Zhang Qiling appeared at the door to his room.
"Oh," Liu Sang said. He felt silly in his hospital pyjamas. "Hi."
Zhang Qiling came over to his bed and passed him a foil takeaway container. He tapped his fingers on the lid. From Pangzi.
It smelled much better than the hospital meal Liu Sang had been given earlier. "Thanks," he said. "Is everyone — Are the others okay?"
Zhang Qiling shrugged a little, and then nodded. Mostly, Liu Sang interpreted that as. He swallowed. "And Er-shu?"
This time Zhang Qiling gave a small head-shake.
Not a surprise, but still distressing. "Can you say to Wu Xie —" Liu Sang began, and then had no idea how to finish the sentence.
Zhang Qiling, at least, looked like he understood. He pulled out his phone and wrote using the text function, before holding up the screen. How long will you be here for?
"I think they're letting me out tomorrow," Liu Sang said.
Zhang Qiling nodded, gave him a quick thumb-up, and wrote again. See you in Wushanju.
"I just need to pick my stuff up," Liu Sang said. "I can find somewhere nearby to stay."
Zhang Qiling gave him a look that was outright amused, and left.
-
Liu Sang did not in fact move his stuff out of Wushanju and into a nearby hotel. He'd meant to, but somehow it didn't happen. Mostly because everyone seemed to expect him not to.
Wu Xie and Pangzi came through the gate not ten minutes after Liu Sang had arrived back in a taxi after being discharged from the hospital, and without understanding or agreeing Liu Sang found himself co-opted as a crutch while Wu Xie wandered off into the depths of the house to ask something from Zhang Qiling. Pangzi decided he wanted to cook, and determined that Liu Sang was going to help him even though Liu Sang tried to convince him that there was literally nothing in life he was less interested in than cookery.
Not that it mattered at all to Pangzi, who was very happy to keep shoving random ingredients and implements at Liu Sang, and then impatiently taking over a couple of minutes later as Liu Sang failed to live up to the high standards which chopping up tofu apparently deserved. Kanjian wandered in after a while, weighed down with a second load of food shopping (incidentally solving the mystery of where this first lot had come from), and took over as a far more satisfactory kitchen minion.
Maybe that would have been a good time to think about packing his things. Except then Wu Xie reappeared and insisted on giving Liu Sang a tour. Which accidentally stalled out in one of the stockrooms where Wu Xie carelessly shifted some priceless antiques to show off some personal diaries of the Wu family from generations back, and handled them in such a casual manner as to nearly give Liu Sang a heart attack, and then on noticing his reaction, let him know that he was welcome to read them…
And so on. And Liu Sang didn't, honestly, want to be on his own. All of his skillset was bound up in his hearing, and without it he was permanently off-balance. Every morning he woke up and pretended weakly to himself that he hadn't actually rustled the bedcovers, and maybe there were just no birds around outside at that moment, or city traffic for that matter — and then gave in and tapped experimentally on the bed frame. There was a morbid sort of satisfaction in making himself confront the silence that followed, day after day.
Until one day, sitting with his feet up on a sofa, Liu Sang jerked upright, his heart hammering. That — That had been —
Thunder.
It was a low growl, and when it stopped Liu Sang realised that Wu Xie and Pangzi had paused their rowdy card game to stare at him.
He flapped his hand agitatedly, trying to dismiss their attention. "Nothing," he snapped. "It's nothing."
After some hesitation, they turned back to their game, and Liu Sang stood up and walked out with deliberate steadiness into the courtyard, staring up at the blue and cloudless sky. His heart was hammering.
It didn't make sense. He couldn't have heard thunder. He couldn't hear.
It was several minutes before he felt calm enough to go back inside. He headed for the kitchen and poured out a glass of water.
Thunder. Again.
It pounded inside his head and he dropped the glass, staggering sideways at it shattered against the tiles. The roar of thunder was everywhere and for a moment he was transported back to the vast cavern of booming bronze pillars, gasping in pain.
"Liu Sang!" Wu Xie was holding his upper arms. Liu Sang struggled — to get himself free, to squeeze his fists against the sides of his head, to block out his ears.
Pangzi stepped in too, and pinned him. He all but dragged Liu Sang along — into Wu Xie's bedroom, which was next door, and pushed him down onto the bed. Liu Sang curled over his knees, feeling a low constant moan coming from his throat that he was powerless to stop.
"Liu Sang, what's —"
"Jinx —"
"The thunder," Liu Sang ground out. "Too loud. Hurts —"
"Thunder?" And then there was a sudden silence, so shocking that Liu Sang actually managed to open his eyes and raise his pounding head.
"Jinx?" Pangzi whispered. "Can you hear us?"
It was clearly a whisper, but it was also so loud. Reverberating painfully in his ears. It took effort to take the roar of it, split it into sounds, process the sounds into actual words. That he —
That he had heard.
He couldn't even think of anything to say. He just nodded.
Pangzi inhaled excitedly, and then stopped himself from speaking with an obvious effort. He squeezed Liu Sang's knee instead. Liu Sang was grateful for the restraint. He pressed his fingers against his forehead, as if that could fight off the appalling headache he was developing.
More thunder — no, footsteps. His brain was getting better at parsing out sounds, at categorising them. Had they always been this deafening? Wu Xie left the room with a creak of the door hinges and the sound of his steps faded but didn't vanish. Along ten paces, left, along five paces. Liu Sang felt his understanding of Wushanju's layout solidify, in a way it hadn't over the last couple of months.
Wu Xie detoured via a bathroom on the way back from Liu Sang's room. He passed something over when he returned — Liu Sang's earplugs. "Lie down," he whispered. "You look like you need to."
Liu Sang pressed the earplugs into each ear in turn, the cord settling familiarly across the back of his neck. They muted everything, bringing the world out of such intense aural focus. He groaned in abject relief, and allowed himself to be pressed into lying back on Wu Xie's bed.
Wu Xie draped the flannel he'd dampened in the bathroom across Liu Sang's forehead. Liu Sang fought not to groan again.
Pangzi patted his hand. Liu Sang didn't need to open his eyes to know that it was him, or how he and Wu Xie were positioned in the room. "Need anything else?" Pangzi whispered.
Liu Sang shook his head slightly. "No," he whispered back, marvelling at the novelty of being able to hear his own voice. It sounded almost strange to him, after so long. "I'm — I'll be okay. Just… getting used to it."
"Take your time," Pangzi told him. "Tianzhen can sleep on my floor tonight." He grunted as Wu Xie elbowed him.
"Do you want us to stay?" Wu Xie asked, quietly. "Or leave you alone?"
It would have been easy, before, to bluntly say that he'd rather be left alone. He could even have persuaded himself that he meant it. "I'll hear you fine from the next room," Liu Sang said. "Carry on with your game."
"Okay," Pangzi said, in a voice that understood that Liu Sang wasn't asking to be left alone, not in the least. "Call out if you want something? Our ears aren't as good as yours."
"Yeah," Liu Sang said, managing a smile. Then he paused, and his smile widened. "Zhang Qiling's here." He was just coming through the gate, back from some errand in Beijing.
"Xiaoge!" Pangzi exclaimed, delighted, and then made an apologetic noise at Liu Sang's involuntary protesting squeak. "Sorry!" he whispered. "Forgot!"
"How could you forget, he's right there," Wu Xie hissed.
"You can't blame me," Pangzi protested. "I was only —"
Wu Xie hustled him out of the room, the two of them trading muttered insults.
"Hey, Jinx, I'll tell Huo Daofu," Pangzi said, speaking in a normal voice as soon as the door was shut. "He'll be pleased."
Liu Sang stretched a hand out to find the solid surface of the wall, and knocked on it. Yes. Agreeing with Panzi's assessment — and Kanjian would be delighted too, as well as Xiao-Bai, and the others. All of his friends, who were invested in his well-being.
With his eyes closed, he let the world around him fall into focus.