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Shen Qiao had a bad habit of hiding when he was hurt. Yan Wushi had found it out the hard way after years of the two being some of the strongest in the martial arts world. Some people would still try their hardest to fight them. They knew they had no chance of fighting Yan Wushi but if they tried to fight Shen Qiao and won, they’d still be satisfied.
Sometimes they would get a couple good hits in or they were better than Yan Wushi thought. They dragged the fight out longer than expected so Shen Qiao was exhausted and ended up having to cough up blood from an internal injury.
It was in those moments that he would be relentless in finishing the fight and then leave. Yan Wushi would hear about the fight and make his way to where Shen Qiao lives in Xuandu Mountain afterwards. He would always be holed up somewhere and was meditating.
This fight was different. It was more energy consuming and longer than either thought. Yan Wushi bid Shen Qiao goodbye at the gates of his estate by Half Step Peak and waited for Shen Qiao to come back. It was when a servant rushed over to him in the gardens, saying that Shen Qiao won but got heavily injured that had him frowning.
They fought in a forest away from prying eyes and filled with small caves and nooks to hide in. It was almost amusing to wonder if Shen Qiao took after him when he had to recuperate and hid himself. It wasn’t hard to find him but it was shocking.
` Shen Qiao was in an abandoned temple in the forest, collapsed against the farthest wall, partially hidden behind the overturned offering table. He’s curled into a ball, shivering and flushed on the floor. It’s almost laughable how small he’s made himself but Yan Wushi is quick to walk over, crouching beside him. He reaches out and almost immediately draws away at the scorching heat from Shen Qiao’s forehead.
Shen Qiao gives a delayed flinch, sitting up with fever hazy eyes. Yan Wushi sighs as Shen Qiao holds his head, staring at the ground at his resulting nausea from the sudden movement.
“Ah-Qiao, do I have to babysit you in your fights now?” Yan Wushi says. It comes out gentler than he means.
“Fine...I’m fine,” Shen Qiao’s voice is barely a whisper.
Yan Wushi clicks his tongue, pulling Shen Qiao into his arms and standing. “I’ll make sure to take care of you, don’t worry. I wonder if this is a qi deviation or you really are just sick.”
“Meridans out of sync.” Shen Qiao mumbles. “Thought the fight wouldn’t make it worse.”
“You’ve felt like this before the fight?”
There’s a mullish set to Shen Qiao’s jaw that gives him his answer.
Yan Wushi leaves it be for once, bringing them both to his residence. The servants aren’t shocked by Shen Qiao being carried, more shocked because of the flushed mess Shen Qiao is.
They hurry to bring water for a bath and make tea and medicine barked out by Yan Wushi. Then Yan Wushi brings Shen Qiao to their shared room and lays him on top of the bed for a moment. The transfer has him stirring from a half awake state, his eyes unable to focus on anything.
Yan Wushi takes his wrist, probing along with his qi to check the state and almost sighs. Shen Qiao was infuriatingly stubborn and admitting he wasn’t well before a fight was something he would never do. It was mid March, there were no big festivals or influx of disciples, he should have been relatively free in his time outside of his usual tasks. Yet he still was troubled enough to fall ill, hindering himself.
He blinks awake at the hand on his forehead, moving against it and almost chasing it as it starts to pull away. There’s a laugh above him that he recognizes that makes him sigh, relaxing further in the bed.
“Ah-Qiao, is there anything troubling you?” Yan Wushi asks. His voice is quiet and it’s nice, not hurting Shen Qiao’s already throbbing head.
“Master died today…” Shen Qiao hears himself mumble. There’s a quiver of something in his voice that baffles him. It had been so long since he had been sad from Qi Fengge’s death. Maybe it was seeing him again after years when he was transported 20 years in the future.
The hand moves to push hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear where it falls into his face. “So that’s what’s troubling my Ah-Qiao enough to make him like this.”
A servant knocks on the door and they trail in with everything asked for. Yan Wushi only watches quietly until they bow and leave. Then he moves and helps Shen Qiao sit up, shifting behind him to help support Shen Qiao’s chest with his own.
“You don’t have to…” Shen Qiao mutters, his face turning even darker.
“I can’t leave you to take care of yourself! What kind of person would I be. I would miss seeing my Ah-Qiao looking so helpless and needing my assistance.”
Shen Qiao weakly tries to fight against the arm around his waist but his arms are heavy and barely do anything before they fall limply back, bracing against the arm. He lets himself be fed the medicinal broth, his frown looking more like a pout as he sulks in his own embarrassment for the treatment.
Then he’s picked up and taken behind the privacy screen to where a bath is waiting. Yan Wushi is surprisingly more lenient in letting him take his own clothes off here. Shen Qiao is almost sure it’s because of the fact he gets to press kisses along his neck, under his jaw, along his shoulders as he shakily tries to undo his robes.
But the bath is nothing more than that, a bath to make sure there’s nothing sticking to him from his earlier fight. Yan Wushi is diligent in making sure he’s clean, his sleeves rolled up as he scoops water in his hands to pour over Shen Qiao’s hair. The warm water helps his fever abate a little. His head is still swimming, hard to focus with little energy to help Yan Wushi as he leans against the side of the tub.
He’s wrapped in one of Yan Wushi’s robes, noted because of how they fall past farther down his legs than usual and a little past his hands. Shen Qiao is pliable as he’s laid back down, a cloth pushed onto his forehead and a light quilt put over his legs. There’s the shift of Yan Wushi pulling away but Shen Qiao frowns, clumsily grabbing Yan Wushi’s hand in his.
“Yan-Lang,” he calls tiredly. There’s a pause before the hand threads through his own, a kiss placed on the back of his hand.
“What else do you need, Ah-Qiao?”
“Can you stay with me? Sleep better with you around.”
Yan Wushi smiles, small but no less bright as he places another kiss against the hand in his. “Of course I can stay. I’ll be here as long as you wish.”
Shen Qiao smiles, his eyes fluttering closed as he goes limp in the bed. Yan Wushi can’t help but watch him as it’s rare that he truly falls asleep. He looks as ethereal as he always does, the light filtering through the windows in the room brightening his looks. Yan Wushi smiles again seeing the relaxed look. It suits Shen Qiao so much more and he’s greedy, knowing only he will see it.