Chapter Text
"Were you planning on telling anyone that you were in the hospital?" Wu Xie demanded indignantly down the phone.
Liu Sang rolled his eyes. "No," he said, regretting picking up the call. At the annoyed huff from the other end of the line, he elaborated, "Anyway, I'm out now."
"That's not the point!" Wu Xie said. "How long were you in hospital for?"
"A few days," Liu Sang said, shortly. He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to pull the duvet back up over himself and continue being as not-conscious as possible. He'd only answered the phone because when he'd blurrily squinted at the too-bright screen in the dark room he hadn't read more than Wu and had assumed it was Ershu calling.
Wu Xie was never one to take notice of hints when he didn't want to. "You're in your apartment, right? Who's there with you?"
"What do you mean?" Liu Sang asked, annoyed by all the questions.
Too late, he realised he should have prevaricated. "You're alone?" Wu Xie asked, voice sharpening. "Ershu said you were stabbed —"
Liu Sang groaned. "I was asleep."
"Sorry!" Wu Xie said, not sounding like he was wasting much energy on feeling apologetic. "That's good, you should be getting rest. What supplies do you need?"
"I don't need anything," Liu Sang said, with the distinct sense that he was talking to an already-moving landslide.
Wu Xie made a disbelieving noise.
"It's the middle of the night," Liu Sang protested.
The noise Wu Xie made this time was more displeased. "It isn't. It's four in the afternoon."
Liu Sang looked at his watch, and then at the phone screen to confirm it. Apparently Wu Xie was right. Liu Sang was still stuck on that, and trying to work out whether he'd slept for much less or much more time than he'd expected, when Wu Xie said ominously, "I'll see you soon. Go back to sleep," and ended the call.
Liu Sang took a couple of minutes to press his face into the pillow and channel his frustration. He didn't want to deal with Wu Xie in an extremely helpful mood. He just wanted to be left alone…
It was the mirror image of how he'd felt in hospital, during the as-brief-as-possible periods while he couldn't help but be conscious. Lonely; achingly desperate to see a friendly face — but absolutely unable to force himself to pick up the phone and call anyone. Because, what if no one came? Or came resentfully, out of pity or duty and nothing else? Much better to stick with the certainty of not taking that risk, not exposing himself to that sort of vulnerability.
Steeling himself, Liu Sang flicked the light on and sat up, bracing himself against the edge of the mattress while he caught his breath against the pain stabbing from his abdomen at the movement. He'd put his painkillers within easy reach and he took one of the strong ones with a swallow of water. He hooked his glasses around his ears, then used his fingers to comb his hair away from his face and tied it back while he gave the painkiller time to kick in, and then he hauled himself grimly to his feet and flipped the duvet across the bed in some attempt at neatness.
Clothes were the next step. He wavered across the room to his wardrobe and grabbed a pair of trousers and a shirt made out of material thick enough that the slight bulk of the dressing on his torso shouldn't show through it. Changing into them from his pyjamas was done through gritted teeth, and he shoved the pyjamas themselves into the nearest drawer to have them out of the way. He looked down at his bare feet, and decided that trying to bend enough to put on socks just wasn't worth it, not for any amount of face.
He was breathing heavily by the time he'd finished dressing, although he tried to suppress it. He didn't want to be this weak. But his legs were already feeling shaky, and he knew he needed to sit down. He left the bedroom and sank heavily onto one of the chairs at the dining table in the small kitchen, pillowing his head on his arms while he sucked in air, and closing his eyes against the black specks in his vision.
The background rumble of traffic was too constant for him to pinpoint when Wu Xie arrived outside the building, but the main door directly below had a distinctive whining creak just before it slammed itself, and first-time visitors never knew to shut it slowly. Liu Sang sat up straight when he heard it, and then thought ahead, so that by the time the lift reached his floor with a loud ding he had made it painfully across the living room and was waiting by the front door to his apartment, balancing himself with a hand against the wall. He wouldn't open the door immediately when Wu Xie rang, of course. He would give it a few seconds, enough to give the impression that he'd walked across the room at a perfectly normal speed.
Wu Xie's footsteps approached the door, and then stopped. Liu Sang made an abortive movement to protect his ears from the buzzer going off right next to him (he'd turned the volume all the way down, but hadn't bothered replacing it for something less aggravating in an apartment he was only renting and barely ever received visitors in anyway) — but Wu Xie didn't press the bell or knock. Instead, there was some metallic scratching. Liu Sang listened for a couple of seconds, puzzled, and then furiously indignant. Wu Xie was picking the lock.
He wrenched open the door, startling Wu Xie into jumping backwards. "What are you doing?" Liu Sang demanded, accusingly.
Wu Xie didn't look at all apologetic to have been caught in the act. "I told you to go back to sleep!" he said, as if Liu Sang was the one doing something wrong. "I didn't want to disturb you."
Liu Sang stared at him, incredulous.
Wu Xie got to his feet, picking up the bag he'd brought, and the thick gloves he'd discarded on top of it. "It's freezing outside," he said. "I'm glad it's a good temperature in here. Also, you should probably sit down."
Liu Sang would have liked to argue, but unfortunately Wu Xie was right. His muscles were going watery. He did his best to walk steadily over to the sofa, which was closest, but he was certain that Wu Xie was watching and analysing. And he couldn't maintain the facade through the act of sitting down — his stitches tightened and his breath came out in a short gasp.
"So, what happened?" Wu Xie asked, neutrally. With his back turned, unpacking his bag on the kitchen table.
"It doesn't matter," Liu Sang said.
"Of course it does!" Now it was Wu Xie's turn to sound frustrated. "I know you've been working more for Ershu lately. He shouldn't be putting you into dangerous situations."
As opposed to the perfectly safe situations he'd been in with Wu Xie, of course. Liu Sang made a derisive noise.
"…All right," Wu Xie acknowledged, flashing Liu Sang a brief grin. He slid a plastic tub into the microwave. "Five minutes."
"What, until the interrogation's over?" Liu Sang asked, grumpily. He wasn't in a very comfortable position, but the thought of moving to find a better one wasn't appealing.
"I'm not interrogating you," Wu Xie said, sounding both amused and exasperated.
Liu Sang tipped his head back against the cushions and determinedly stared at the ceiling. He wasn't sure why he was feeling so… irritated, and so desperate for Wu Xie to just leave. Instead of however he was supposed to feel. It was supposed to be nice, wasn't it, when someone came round to check on you? (A friend, his brain corrected belatedly. When a friend came round.) It shouldn't set him on edge like this.
The microwave's chime was a brief disturbance, but Liu Sang didn't really register what it meant until Wu Xie appeared in front of him with a tray. "You can eat at the table if you want, of course," he said, "But I thought you might prefer not to have to move."
There was some congee in a bowl with a spoon next to it. A mug of tea, and a glass of water. One of the blister packs of painkillers, which Wu Xie must have gone poking into the bedroom to find. Liu Sang stared at the arrangement blankly for a moment, before his brain kicked in and he accepted the tray onto his lap. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.
"Because somebody should," Wu Xie said. He sat down on the other end of the sofa, carefully, so as not to bounce the cushions. "We always have plenty of congee in the freezer, Pangzi makes it in batches. When did you last eat?"
Liu Sang couldn't remember, but knew perfectly well that admitting that would only lead to more nagging. He ate a spoonful of the congee instead. It was pretty good. After he'd finished most of the bowl he realised that maybe he'd needed it much more than he'd thought.
Wu Xie somehow restrained himself from asking further questions while Liu Sang ate. But he watched everything, with clear calculation in his gaze, and Liu Sang had the uncomfortable feeling that the severity of his injury was being assessed as clearly as if he had volunteered the information.
It was the stronger painkillers that Wu Xie had brought out. Liu Sang was aware that he was allowed to take it alongside the one he'd had earlier, but he hesitated. It would be yet another piece of vulnerability.
If Wu Xie had said anything about it, or urged him to take it, Liu Sang would have stubborned it out. But Wu Xie didn't even mention it, and the growing ache was clutching around Liu Sang's whole torso again, and in the end he swallowed the pill with a gulp of water.
"Don't fall asleep on the sofa," Wu Xie said.
Liu Sang rolled his eyes, and pulled himself to his feet, moving his body very slowly. He could focus either on that or on thinking of something cutting to say in reply.
Wu Xie reached for his elbow, still not over wanting to be helpful, but Liu Sang shook his head. "Don't," he said. "Makes it harder." He had learned that in the hospital. Keeping his own balance and moving with very small steps was more manageable for him than leaning on someone else, who would move unpredictably no matter how hard they tried not to.
He stopped at the bathroom, and pointedly closed the door in Wu Xie's face. Then he clung onto the handle for several seconds. The drug was kicking in, and he was getting lightheaded. He kept a hand on the wall for balance as he moved about in the bathroom, and then the edge of the basin as he washed his hands.
He hadn't taken a look at himself in a mirror for a while, and when he did so Liu Sang found himself grimacing at his reflection. Fuck, no wonder Wu Xie was hovering over him like a mother hen. His face was drawn, and practically grey.
He touched his thumb very lightly over his bandages, and winced.
It wasn't a surprise to find Wu Xie leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door, apparently casually, although doubtless he'd been listening out for the sound of Liu Sang keeling over. Liu Sang nodded grudging appreciation, and trudged towards the bed. He remembered then that he'd left his pyjamas across the room, and decided he didn't care.
"Yell if you need anything," Wu Xie said.
The idea of having enough energy to yell was laughable. Liu Sang barely remembered to take off his glasses before sinking into the mattress, and unconsciousness.
The sound of scrabbling at the apartment door dragged him up though cloying layers of sleep. Wu Xie, who couldn't just knock like a normal person. And Liu Sang had meant to get up and be ready before Wu Xie got there, why was he still in bed…
…Hadn't that happened already?
He fought against the tide of exhaustion trying to drag him back under. The small part of his brain which was always on alert was doing its best to kick him into wakefulness, fighting against the cotton-wool stupor of the medication he'd taken.
Wu Xie was asleep on the sofa, snoring faintly.
Someone was trying to get in through the locked door.
The two facts filtered in slowly, and then finally combined in a spurt of adrenaline which gave Liu Sang enough of a surge of energy to roll over. And then he was paralysed by the agonising jolt of pain radiating from the stab wound in his side, which he'd just pulled hard. Tears sprang to his eyes as he struggled to breathe around it.
The apartment door sprung open.
Liu Sang wasn't processing properly; he wasn't sure how many men there were. Heavy-booted, moving with certainty. Wu Xie sprung to his feet, stumbling slightly — light spilled suddenly around the edges of the door from the living room; Wu Xie must be blinded by it. A confusion of voices, all shouting at once.
Fuck. Fuck. Liu Sang shoved himself off the edge of the mattress, and his legs folded beneath him as he tried to stand. He dizzily grabbed for support as he fell but only managed to pull the duvet down with him from the bed. His face pressed into the carpet and he felt sick, specks of light whirling behind his closed eyelids.
"Who are you?" Wu Xie was demanding.
There were still several voices talking over each other, but the most domineering snapped loudly, "Just grab Liu Sang and shut him up!"
Liu Sang tried to move, flailing uselessly. He lifted his head and it collided with the hard slats of the underside of the bed and dropped back down against the floor.
Wu Xie was… struggling. Fighting. Slammed against a piece of furniture with a brief thud. What did they want with Wu Xie? Wasn't he just in the way?
The bedroom door banged open, rebounding off the wall. Liu Sang instinctively froze, but no one came in. Someone said, "All clear."
"Okay. Get him out of here."
They'd come for Liu Sang, and they were… leaving without him? Liu Sang muzzily tried to make sense of it.
They had Wu Xie. Who hadn't told the intruders that he wasn't Liu Sang.
Liu Sang couldn't breathe in his panic. What was he supposed to do?
He wasn't given time to figure it out. The men departed, hustling Wu Xie in their midst, making gag-muffled noises. The front door slammed behind them.
They didn't use the lift. Their heavy footfalls echoed on the concrete stairwell. Shortly afterwards, there was the dim roar of an engine from the street. A large van.
Silence. It was all over.
Liu Sang tried more carefully to lift his head. He felt around with his hands, and wriggled and pushed himself out of where he'd managed to wedge himself half-under the bed, and then fought free of the duvet which had landed on top of him. Pain flared again from the movement. He tried to sit up, and was flattened once again by a wave of dizziness, followed quickly by nausea.
He needed to… to call for help…
Instead, he passed out.
Liu Sang next woke because he was cold. He tried to curl into a ball, but his body was stiff and painful. The floor beneath him was hard.
He opened his eyes. Grey light filtered in from around the edges of the curtains. He was on the floor next to the bed, the duvet part-draped over him.
He'd had… a dream? The memory of it bubbled up slowly from the depths the medication had dragged his sleep down into. Footsteps drumming; voices; struggling. Liu Sang only half-remembered it, but those pieces were… vivid.
"Wu Xie?" he called. His voice was a croak. He swallowed a couple of times, and tried again. "Wu Xie?"
But if Wu Xie was in the apartment, Liu Sang would already be able to hear him.
Holding on to the edge of the bed, Liu Sang pulled himself slowly to his feet, gritting his teeth through the now-familiar pull on his injury. His limbs were stiff from the uncomfortable position on the floor, but he stumbled across to the open door. He clutched onto the frame, and his stomach plunged as he stared into the living room.
It was all there. Everything from what he'd been desperately hoping was just a bad dream. Dirty footprints trodden into the carpet. A blanket hanging from the edge of the sofa. The coffee table shoved out of place. Wu Xie's phone lying against the skirting board.
The phone began ringing.
The shrill sound jolted near-panic through Liu Sang, and he hurried towards it without even thinking, dropping to his knees to reach it in lieu of bending over. He needed to let people know what had happened. And then — And then —
It was Pangzi calling. Of course it was. "Tianzhen, are you having a lie-in?" he grumbled, before Liu Sang could say anything. "I've sent you eight texts —"
"Pangzi," Liu Sang said, cutting him off.
"Jinx, is that you?" Pangzi asked. Without waiting for an answer, he plunged straight into, "Tell Tianzhen that —"
"Pangzi," Liu Sang said, again, more forcefully, and the other man paused. "Wu Xie's — Some people took him."
Pangzi drew in a sharp breath. "Took him? You mean he's been abducted?"
"Yes," Liu Sang said. "From here — From my apartment."
"What?" Pangzi swore so loudly that Liu Sang jerked the phone reflexively away from his ear. "When? Just now? Who were they? What did they want?" There were sounds of him crashing around in the background.
"They were after me instead," Liu Sang said. "I don't know who they were. It was during the night."
"After you? Why did they take Tianzhen then, and leave you behind?" Pangzi demanded. His voice abruptly sharpened. "What do you mean, during the night? Why didn't you call me before?"
"I didn't…" Liu Sang leaned his forehead against the wall, struggling to answer. "I was in the other room. They thought Wu Xie was me."
"And you didn't do anything?" Pangzi exploded.
"I didn't ask him to be here!" Liu Sang snapped.
"He was there looking after you!" Pangzi snapped back. "Or have you already forgotten?"
How was he supposed to forget, with such a knot of guilt burning away inside him? Liu Sang clenched his teeth. "I need to call Ershu," he said, tightly.
"I'm calling Xiaoge," Pangzi said, with the air of a riposte. "And then I'm coming over there." He hung up.