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Zhou Zishu really wondered what he had done to deserve this. Of course there were the terrible crimes and horrendous acts he had committed, but surely none of them had been quite atrocious enough to justify the torture he was subjected to now? Did the heavens really know no mercy?
Not only did he have to spend the entire day on horseback, with the sun’s scorching rays relentlessly bearing down on him, no, he also had to listen to the two self-proclaimed ancestors he was travelling with bickering like old housewives. And then there was his pupil, who complained endlessly about being “too tired to practice the moves for the 5001st time”. Had his own master suffered like this as well, Zhou Zishu wondered. No. Zhou Zishu himself had been a diligent and hardworking student, never complaining and certainly never begging for a rest.
“A-Xu,” Wen Kexing said from where he was slouching on the horse next to Zhou Zishu. Apparently he and Senior Ye had stopped their back and forth squabble to catch a breath or, in Wen Kexing’s case, to shift his focus to annoying Zhou Zishu. “You look hot. Let me fan you for a bit.” He nudged his horse closer and started moving his fan in Zhou Zishu’s direction. The gentle breeze of air felt wonderful against Zhou Zishu’s heated skin, but his bad mood made him petty and there was still left-over anger at how Wen Kexing had acted at the failed Hero’s Conference.
“I’m not warm. Stop it,” he snapped, and if his voice came out even harsher than intended, well, then Wen Kexing probably deserved it.
“Oh,” Wen Kexing said and maybe he had a conscience after all, or maybe he just wanted to pacify Zhou Zishu, but he immediately stopped.
“Wen-shu, I’m really warm! Why don’t you fan me for a bit?” Zhang Chengling huffed while he trudged behind the horses instead of practicing the moves like Zhou Zishu had instructed.
“Who allowed you to stop?” Zhou Zishu snapped and tugged at the rope tied around Zhang Chengling’s waist. “And now you even demand a reward for not having trained properly? Impertinent!”
“A-Xu! Why don’t you let him rest for a while, he has already trained for so long!” Somehow, Wen Kexing managed to sound exactly like a mother who was trying to defend her son. Did that make Zhou Zishu the strict father? He shook his head – the hear must be really getting to him – and glared.
“Is he my disciple, or yours? Don’t undermine my teachings with your useless comments.”
“Alright, alright, alright. Don’t be mad, A-Xu, you’re right and I will shut up.”
“Yes, please do us that favour, the world will thank you for it,” Senior Ye said from his perch on the carriage and Zhou Zishu really wondered why this venerable old sword master behaved like a street-bully. Wen Kexing, predicably, would have none on it.
“I bet the world would thank me even more if I dragged you off that carriage and gave you the beating you clearly deserve.”
“Oh, why don’t you try, little boy?”
Zhang Chengling picked this moment to stumble over his own two feet and land face-first in the dirt.
Zhou Zishu sighed. If this was punishment for his misdeeds, then he could only hope it would get more bearable once he reached the Yellow Spring Road.
-
“But shifu, I can’t even move my finger!”
Zhang Chengling sat on the ground and looked just as miserable as a kicked puppy.
“I won’t always be there to train you,” Zhou Zishu said sternly and crossed his arms. “If you don’t learn now, then when will you?”
“How about tomorrow morning, after he’s had some time to recuperate? We still have a whole day’s journey in front of us,” Wen Kexing butted in, earning himself another glare. Seemingly oblivious to it he still shifted closer, until he was all but pressed against Zhou Zishu despite there being a lot of room left on the log they were sitting on.
“Now I can finally tell why your martial arts are so bad!” Senior Ye said and Here we go again, Zhou Zishu thought. At least they had managed almost two full sticks of incense time without throwing around passive aggressive insults. Now Senior Ye apparently moved on to the obviously aggressive insults. Wen Kexing responded in kind.
“Oh, my martial arts are bad? Excuse me if I take this old master’s words not seriously.” He bowed mockingly in Senior Ye’s direction. “His eyes must have become worse with age.”
“Nothing can be worse than your weak attempts at mockery, my child,” Senior Ye replied with a grin that was more a challenge than anything.
“Who are you calling your child?” Wen Kexing jumped to his feet, but Zhou Zishu grabbed his wrist and held him back.
“Lao-Wen. Don’t cause trouble.”
“Me? A-Xu, he–“
Zhou Zishu gave Wen Kexing’s wrist a squeeze and tugged him back down onto the log. He nudged his shoulder and offered a small smile that hopefully didn’t look too strained after all the antics he had to endure today. Wen Kexing’s expression immediately softened and there was something that almost looked like tentative hope in his eyes. He settled down next to Zhou Zishu and nodded.
“You’re right, A-Xu. Sorry.” He smiled; the gentle one that had nothing to do with the vicious sneer Zhou Zishu had seen him wear so often recently. It tugged at something in Zhou Zishu’s chest and the bad mood that hat been plaguing him seemed to melt under its warmth. Zhou Zishu realised that he had missed this smile, had missed the Wen Kexing who was always laughing and joking, the Wen Kexing who seemed to understand Zhou Zishu so deeply. He felt how Wen Kexing’s wrist turned in his grasp until the other could bend his fingers and gently stroke the back Zhou Zishu’s hand. There was something strangely intimate about gesture and Zhou Zishu couldn’t help stare at Wen Kexing’s soft expression.
“That’s right, wives should listen to their husbands,” Senior Ye commented from the side and Wen Kexing’s smile made way to a glare as he whipped around and his hand slipped away from Zhou Zishu.
The only one who had a nice and comfortable night was Zhang Chengling, who was spared from another strenuous training session.
-
Zhou Zishu didn’t know why had expected his two troublesome companions to calm down after they had reached their destination. Maybe because they had become surprisingly quiet for the rest of the journey. As it turned out, they had simply been recharging their energy. And, contrary to Zhou Zishu’s conviction that such a feat was impossible, they had somehow become worse.
“Drink!”
Two bowls clinked together. Who exactly had started with the alcohol was unclear, but he wagered it was Ye Baiyi, who had then turned it into a challenge which Wen Kexing could of course not turn down. And so they sat in a pavilion behind Zhou Zishu’s, eating and drinking and taking jabs at each other like they were trying to create the most annoying background noise possible. Meanwhile, Zhang Chengling was trying and failing to correctly perform the Swift Moving Steps, which in his case looked more like the Teetering Crane. Zhou Zishu’s nerves were only kept from snapping by the year-long training he had went through in Tian Chuang.
“Please, shifu, can’t you remove some of the weighs? This is really too difficult,” Zhang Chengling panted after he had fallen on his behind for the 87th time. Not that anyone was counting.
“How about I remove your legs instead?” Zhou Zishu snapped. “Clearly you don’t know how to use them!”
“A-Xu! You’re training a teen without a proper base, can’t you go a bit easier on him? My legs hurt from just watching.” Alcohol apparently turned Wen Kexing from bothersome to obnoxious.
“Looking at your legs, I can see why that is.” Alcohol apparently did the same to venerable Senior Ye Baiyi. Zhou Zishu resisted the urge to simply get up, put his mask back on, and wander the Jianghu in comfortable silence like he had intended before his life was turned upside down.
“Old man, if you want a closer look at my legs you only have to ask,” Wen Kexing said, now with a strange drawl to his voice.
Zhou Zishu stilled.
So far, he had desperately been trying to ignore their bickering, but suddenly his attention shifted fully from Zhang Chengling’s pitiful attempts at martial arts to Wen Kexing’s equally pitiful attempts at drunken innuendos. He waited for Ye Baiyi to shut Wen Kexing down immediately, but there was only the sound of more wine being poured.
“What makes you think I’d be in some way interested in a scrawny junior such as yourself?”
“Hah!” Even without looking Zhou Zishu could see Wen Kexing lean back and stretch out those much-discussed legs. Even though they were hidden by robes most of the time, Zhou Zishu knew that they weren’t scrawny. Not that he would ever say that out loud. “No shame in admitting to a bit of curiosity, old man.”
Zhou Zishu forced himself to keep his eyes on Zhang Chengling, even though all his instincts screamed at him to turn around and look at what Wen Kexing was doing. Which was really not what his instincts should be doing, and Zhou Zishu wondered if the nails were acting up even before midnight now.
“If I was this curious about every other pretty boy I crossed paths with, I doubt I would have survived for this long,” Ye Baiyi said and Zhou Zishu could hear the smirk in his voice. “Drink!”
Again the clinking of bowls, the pouring of more liquid, and then Wen Kexing’s voice, now definitely drawling. “Did the venerable Master Ye just call this lowly one a pretty boy?”
“Of course that’s what you would take away from it. How predictable. Drink!”
Zhou Zishu only noticed that his hands had curled into fists when he felt his nails bite into the skin. He absently noted that Zhang Chengling was sitting on the ground instead of practicing his moves, but Zhou Zishu couldn’t be bothered to scold him right now. Not when Wen Kexing’s next words were: “Are you looking for something unpredictable? I can provide that.”
Zhou Zishu was able to meditate for hours on end, had a tight grip on all his emotions, he was living with the Nails of Seven Apertures for Three Autumns without going mad. He refused to let this be the thing that broke his impeccable self-control.
The bowls clinked again. “Boy, you can show me nothing I haven’t seen yet.”
“Are you sure of that? I’ve been told that I’m quite unique,” Wen Kexing purred.
When had Zhou Zishu gotten to his feet? He wasn’t sure, but the next thing he remembered was that he stood in front of a Wen Kexing who slouched so indecently in his seat that Zhou Zishu felt the urge to tear down one of the curtains and cover him with it.
“A-Xu! Are you joining us?” Wen Kexing tipped his head back, exposing the long, pale line of his throat. His filled cup tilted dangerously in his hand as he held it out to Zhou Zishu like it was some valuable offering. Zhou Zishu took it and slammed it on the table, making the wine slosh everywhere.
“What a waste,” Ye Baiyi said, but Zhou Zishu barely paid him any attention.
“I think you’ve had enough,” he snapped at Wen Kexing. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Wen Kexing leaned back even further and grinned up at Zhou Zishu from underneath his lashes and how was this man allowed to exist? “That’s okay, as long as I’m not embarrassing you, A-Xu.”
“I can’t believe you,” Zhou Zishu muttered. He should just turn around and leave Wen Kexing to his antics. He had a disciple to train, after all. Something nudged his calf.
“What do you say about my legs, A-Xu?”
Zhou Zishu looked down to see that Wen Kexing’s foot had found its way under his robes and was now trailing up his leg.
He made a decision then. This man could absolutely not be left alone. He glared as fiercely as he could and grabbed Wen Kexing’s wrist to pull him up. There was no resistance at all, but apparently both Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu had underestimated the former’s level of intoxication. As soon as he was expected to stand on his oh-so-precious legs, he swayed dangerously and clutched at Zhou Zishu’s shoulders.
“Not only are your martial arts bad, you also can’t drink,” Ye Baiyi commented while emptying another bowl of wine.
“Don’t test me, old man, I can–“
“You can go and lie down now,” Zhou Zishu said sternly. Wen Kexing’s indignation turned into complacence as he regarded Zhou Zishu.
“A-Xu knows best. I will gladly follow your guidance.”
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes. “Make sure my disciple doesn’t slack off,” he said to Ye Baiyi, who only waved his hand dismissively.
“Go get your wife into bed.”
Zhou Zishu refused to let warmth colour his cheeks and slung one of Wen Kexing’s arms around his shoulder.
“Who’s a wife?” Wen Kexing yelled, but there was no real fire behind it. He leaned heavily on Zhou Zishu as they made their way towards the bedroom, his head comfortably resting against the crook of Zhou Zishu’s neck.
“Lao Wen, can you maybe put those legs of yours to use?” Zhou Zishu huffed when they reached the top of the stairs.
“Mmmh,” made Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu felt his nose brush his neck.
“If you can’t hold your alcohol, then why did you drink so much?” Zhou Zishu managed to slide the door to the bedroom open with some trouble, courtesy of a limp Wen Kexing hanging from his shoulder.
“He challenged me. I’m no coward,” Wen Kexing murmured and Zhou Zishu could feel warm breath against his skin. “A-Xu. I’m no coward.”
“I know that. But you’re a fool.” He deposited Wen Kexing on a chair, from which he immediately slid down and reached for the jug standing on the table.
“A-Xu, drink with this fool.”
Zhou Zishu leaned down and took the jug from Wen Kexing. “No more wine for you.”
Wen Kexing made a strange noise in the back of his throat and when Zhou Zishu looked at him, he found his gaze trained somewhere on Zhou Zishu’s chest.
“What are you looking at?”
Wen Kexing reached up and brushed his hand against Zhou Zishu’s collar. “A-Xu…does it hurt?” he asked. His eyes were glistening, undoubtedly with alcohol more than genuine emotion. Zhou Zishu straightened and took a step back.
“No. I’m already used to it.” It was a lie, but it didn’t matter. Wen Kexing probably won’t remember this tomorrow, anyway.
“You shouldn’t be,” Wen Kexing said and pushed himself to his feet. Zhou Zishu took an instinctual step forward, but this time Wen Kexing managed to stand without swaying. “I’ve only just found my soulmate, A-Xu. Can you please not die?”
Zhou Zishu stared at him. This was the alcohol talking, he knew it, and still the words pierced his chest, joining the nails that were already buried there.
“Don’t be childish,” he said, but it came out much too gentle to be taken as the reprimand it had been intended as. “You should know that you can’t have everything you want.”
“I don’t want much. A-Xu.” Wen Kexing took a step forward and reached out. “I only want you.”
You deserve more than me, Zhou Zishu thought. But he was a selfish man; always had been. He was a man who was poison to others – his master, his sect brother, his Emperor, they had all been left by him. Left, and worse. And here was Wen Kexing, begging him to stay. Zhou Zishu swallowed heavily. Suddenly he wished he was back in the pavilion, watching Zhang Chengling stumble about and listen to idle banter.
“You’re drunk, Lao-Wen. You should sleep.”
Wen Kexing still stood there, hand extended and reaching for Zhou Zishu, eyes bright with tears, and he looked so broken and helpless that Zhou Zishu couldn’t help but take that outstretched hand into his. As soon as he touched it, Wen Kexing let himself fall forward, his entire weight crashing into Zhou Zishu and making him stumble. He wrapped his arms around Wen Kexing’s waist to keep him standing and Wen Kexing buried his face in Zhou Zishu’s robe.
“You won’t leave, A-Xu. Tell me you won’t leave.”
The me was lost in the folds of Zhou Zishu’s robes.
“I won’t leave you, Wen Kexing.”
What was one more lie?
He gently stirred Wen Kexing in the direction of the bed, which proved a lot more difficult for the fact that Wen Kexing refused to let go of him. As it were, Zhou Zishu had to walk him backwards until he bumped against the edge of the bed, and then carefully lean down to deposit him on the blankets.
“Lao-Wen, why don’t you assist me a bit here, I rea–“
With a loud yelp Zhou Zishu felt himself tilt forwards, suddenly thrown off balance by a surprisingly strong yank on his robes. He fell face-first into the mattress and bodily across Wen Kexing.
“You said you wouldn’t leave,” Wen Kexing said, hands fisting into Zhou Zishu’s robes.
“I was speaking more in general,” Zhou Zishu pressed out as he tried to stand again – a fruitless endeavour, for alcohol might have taken away Wen Kexing’s glib tongue, but definitely not his strength. “Let go of me, Lao-Wen, you’re not the most comfortable person to lie on.”
“Hmm,” Wen Kexing said and slowly uncurled his hands. “That’s because normally I prefer to lie on others.”
Zhou Zishu, who had barely managed to stand up again, spluttered and almost fell right back down. He had been feeling too many unfamiliar emotions tonight – he was slowly getting dizzy.
“Sleep, Lao-Wen,” he said and prayed to all the gods that, just for once, Wen Kexing would listen.
“Only if you stay, A-Xu.”
“I already said I would.”
“Now.” Wen Kexing looked up at him, his wide eyes still glistening with unshed emotion and his lips curled unhappily.
Zhou Zishu sighed.
“Move over.”
The slow smile that spread over Wen Kexing’s features made everything worth it. When had it come to this, Zhou Zishu wondered. Not that it mattered.
Not with how Wen Kexing immediately scooted closer as soon as Zhou Zishu had lain down and pressed himself against him, and not with how Wen Kexing sighed contently as he slung an arm around Zhou Zishu’s chest. It took only a few heartbeats for Wen Kexing’s breathing to even out and for his body to turn slack. Zhou Zishu turned his head and gazed at the other’s features, now relaxed in sleep. He looked young, peaceful, and not at all like the person who drove Zhou Zishu crazy each time he opened his mouth.
Zhou Zishu allowed himself a little smile and leaned forward to press his lips against Wen Kexing’s forehead.
If he had the choice, he would never leave him. Maybe once he reached the Yellow Spring Road, he could sit down in front of the Three-Life Rock and eventually, Wen Kexing would return to him.