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It’s dark, hot, and quiet in the supply room in which Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang have barricaded themselves, and Huaisang’s labored breathing is harsh in Jiang Cheng’s ears. Huaisang shifts in Jiang Cheng’s arms and gasps.
“Lie still, baby,” Jiang Cheng says, easing Huaisang back until he’s settled against Jiang Cheng’s chest. “Just, just rest, okay?”
“Did we get it?” Huaisang asks, his voice low and rasping.
“Yeah, we did.” Jiang Cheng kisses the top of Huaisang’s head. “You got it. Jumped right in there between that fucker before it could get me. Took its head off with that fan.”
“Oh, good. ‘S my fav’rite.” Huaisang turns his head to rub his cheek against Jiang Cheng’s chest, but the movement pulls the wound under his collarbone, dislodging Jiang Cheng’s hand and the torn shirt he’s pressing to the injury, and Huaisang whimpers.
“You’ve gotta be still, A-Sang,” Jiang Cheng says. He swallows hard, desperate to keep his voice calm. He wants to shake Huaisang, and yell at him for being a complete idiot, jumping between him and the fierce corpse they were tracking in an old warehouse south of town. He had Zidian out and ready to take the thing down, and Huaisang, noble, stupid Huaisang just … he just got in there! And got himself slashed across the chest! In an abandoned warehouse! In the middle of a blackout!
Okay, the blackout wasn’t Huaisang’s fault. Nor were the five additional fierce corpses that drove them to hide in this supply closet. That’s on Su She’s faulty intel. And Jiang Cheng is gonna fucking murder Su She, just as soon as he gets Huaisang safely home.
Which would be…? Jiang Cheng’s phone is in the Jeep, Huaisang’s had gotten damaged in the fighting, and the blackout means that the convenient phone on the wall of this convenient supply closet is now simply decorative.
“A-Cheng.” Huaisang pats Jiang Cheng’s leg weakly. “Did we get it?”
Jiang Cheng tightens his grip on Huaisang’s hand and gently kisses his cheek. “Yeah, babe, we did. We’re good.”
“Can we go home now?”
“Not quite yet, okay? We just need to sit tight for a bit. I sent a paperman to get some help. We just need to wait for Wei Ying to come get us, okay?”
“Mm.” Huaisang’s breaths come faster, shallower. “Don’t feel good.”
“I know, baby, I know.” Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and takes as deep a breath as he can manage without moving Huaisang unnecessarily. His energy is dangerously low—thanks to your incomplete report, Su She, you absolute fucker!— but he can access a little. He directs it through hand pressing against Huaisang’s injury, and Huaisang gasps, but his breathing becomes easier as the cool flow of qi passes between them. It’s just enough to stem the worst of the bleeding and ease a bit of Huaisang’s pain. Jiang Cheng keeps his hand on Huaisang’s chest, which rises with a more fluid regularity. They sit together, breathing, waiting. Jiang Cheng strains to hear anything that might herald their rescue, but he only hears their breathing. At least the extra corpses haven’t made their way to this floor. The one Huaisang killed seemed a bit more … lively? Intelligent? It was different from the corpses they are usually called to handle, and that worries Jiang Cheng, but it’s something to think about later, after he’s gotten Huaisang out of here.
“A-Cheng.” Huaisang squeezes his hand. “‘M okay. We can go home now. We should go home.”
“I know, sweetheart, we should. We just have to wait a little bit longer, okay?”
“If you wanna get me in a closet you didn’t hafta drag me here,” Huaisang teases. “Coulda kissed me anywhere you want. ‘S good thing about bein’ married.”
“Hah, yeah, you’re right.”
“Are you gonna—“ Huaisang coughs, rough and wet sounds rattling in his chest.
Shit! He’s hurt worse than Jiang Cheng thought. Where the fuck was Wei Ying?
“Huaisang, babe, what…can you…can you tell me what hurts?”
“Doesn’t hurt,” he says. “‘M fine. Wanna go home.”
“I know, I know.”
Huaisang sighs, ragged and shaking, and goes limp against Jiang Cheng.
“Huaisang! Hey, hey! Wake up, okay? Just need you to stay awake with me, just for a bit!”
“Kay.” Huaisang’s fingers twitch in Jiang Cheng’s hand, just a flicker of movement.
“Just a bit more,” Jiang Cheng whispers. He shifts gently so he can lean against the wall behind him and support Huaisang. Huaisang gasps once as he’s jostled, but otherwise, he is quiet. His breathing is shallow but steady, and he occasionally grips Jiang Cheng’s fingers, weak but intentional.
“Feel fuzzy,” Huaisang says after a while. “Floaty.”
“Are you hurting?”
Huaisang shakes his head. “I’m not ready to go.”
“We’re gonna go home soon, I promise, I—what? What did you say?”
“Not ready to leave my A-Cheng,” Huaisang says. Soft and sure. “I’m cold.”
Jiang Cheng reaches up to Huaisang’s forehead, hissing at the feverish heat rolling off him.
“Not ready,” Huaisang says again, “but I’m tired.” He draws a quick, shallow breath, and says, “Love you.”
“Huaisang? Huaisang! Hey, no, no! No, come on! Just hang on, just a bit more, just —Huaisang!”
“‘S bright,” Huaisang complains. “Why’s it so bright?” He tries to roll over and stuff his head under a pillow, but pain shoots through his veins like lightning, and he bites back a cry.
“Hold still!”
The voice is familiar, but it’s not his Jiang Cheng. Huaisang inhales sharply and lets his breath out slowly, and the pain subsides to a persistent but manageable burn. He slowly opens one eye and sees a beautiful woman in glowing white robes.
“Am I dead?” he croaks.
The beautiful woman scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Not for lack of trying, but I’ve patched you up.” She moves towards his feet and picks up something — papers, maybe — and studies them a moment before putting them back from wherever she got them and fixing him with a stern glare. “I suppose this wasn’t your fault, not that Mingjue cares.”
“Da-ge?”
“Yes. He told me to, and I quote, ‘put the fear of heaven, hell, and all the gods into you or so help me, Huaisang, I will lock you in the basement.’” The woman smiles at Huaisang and pats his foot. “Jiang Cheng said he’d just break your legs.”
“Mm.” Huaisang thinks it’s probably alright to open both eyes now. “I’m in the hospital?”
The woman, who Huaisang can now see is not dressed in robes but in red scrubs and a white lab coat, rolls her eyes again. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Huaisang closes his eyes for a moment. “Someone called about a fierce corpse in … Moling territory, I think. But there was something? And they called us?” Huaisang tries to rub his eyes but pain sears his senses, and his vision whites out briefly.
“Damn,” the woman mutters. She holds down Huaisang’s shoulder until he’s more or less breathing normally, then fiddles with his IV.
Cool relief washes through him, and he takes a full, deep breath. “Thank you,” he rasps. He focuses on the woman, her features clearing. “Oh! Wen Qing!”
“Who else?” She rests the back of her hand against his forehead. “The injection won’t last long.” She pulls a small, rolling cart over to the side of the bed, and Huaisang can see an assortment of wickedly sharp needles. “It’s just to help you get comfortable. I didn’t want to work on you until you’d regained consciousness fully. You’ve got a few minutes before I need to start, though. Would you like to see your family?”
“Are they — you said something about locking me in a basement?”
Wen Qing smiles and pats his shoulder. “Mingjue was scared. But don’t worry. I won’t let anyone harm one of my patients while they’re in my hospital.”
“He'll probably calm down by the time I’m ready to go home,” Huaisang muses. “A-Cheng will — well, I knew what I was getting into when I married him.”
“I’ll let them in.”
Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue shuffle in a moment later, timid and afraid.
“Da-ge. A-Cheng.” Huaisang puts a bit of a whine into the words, intent on milking this fragile equilibrium for as long as he can. Making amends is Future Huaisang’s problem.
“Wen Qing says you’ll be alright,” Mingjue says gruffly. He stands at the foot of Huaisang’s bed, arms across his chest.
“Of course! She’s the best doctor.” When Jiang Cheng still refuses to meet Huaisang’s eye, Huaisang makes a grabby hand and whines until Jiang Cheng takes it gently. “And my husband is the best protector.”
Jiang Cheng scoffs. “I wouldn’t need to be the best if you didn’t jump in front of me and get slashed in the chest.”
Huaisang’s about to poke at Jiang Cheng’s bluster when he notices that his husband is ashen and his hand is trembling as it holds Huaisang’s.
“Best husband,” he insists. “What happened? How did we get here? Qishan General is miles and miles from Moling.”
Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Jin Fucking Zixuan,” he mutters. “The Peacock saved our asses, and I am never going to hear the end of it.”
“And you couldn’t—“
“Didi,” Mingjue interrupts, “we’ll talk about it later. I want Wen Qing to patch you up, and A-Cheng needs to be seen as well.” Mingjue puts an arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “You promised.”
“A-Cheng?”
Jiang Cheng leans down and brushes a kiss across Huaisang’s forehead. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I promise. I’ll tell you all about it once you’ve recovered.”
“Even the Zixuan part?”
Jiang Cheng grimaces, but he squeezes Huaisang’s hand. “Even that part.” Jiang Cheng shakes off Mingjue’s arm and crouches down beside the bed. “Thank you,” he whispers. He strokes Huaisang’s cheek. “You saved my life tonight, which was completely stupid and reckless and dangerous, but… thank you.” He kisses Huaisang before straightening up. “I’ll be waiting for you, okay?”
“I’ll try not to keep you waiting long.”
Wen Qing clears her throat. “Well, you’re both keeping me waiting.” She pokes Jiang Cheng in the chest. “You. Get down to Qiao Shiyu’s office. She’s got a kid to get home to, but she can’t do that until she looks over your meridians.”
“I’ll make sure he gets there,” Mingjue says. He bends down to kiss Huaisang’s forehead. “Listen to Doctor Wen, didi, and I might stop Jiang Cheng from breaking your legs.”
“Yes, da-ge.”
Jiang Cheng steals one last kiss before Mingjue gets him out of the room and Wen Qing shuts the door. When she returns to Huaisang’s bedside, she’s no longer smiling. She checks his IV and makes a few notes on his chart.
“Well, this is going to hurt.” She gives his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it as quick as possible, but whatever slashed you wasn’t a regular fierce corpse. If it’s any consolation, Zixuan managed to get a few samples from the thing you killed, so if cultivators face it in the future, we’ll be better prepared.”
“But it didn’t hurt A-Cheng?”
“No, not directly.” Wen Qing replies. “You made sure the thing didn’t injure him.”
Huaisang takes a breath. “Then whatever happens next will be worth it.” He nods at Wen Qing. “I’m ready.”