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As soon as Zhang Qiling hears the crashes, he begins to sprint. He knows this area well enough, so it is easy to bound over the fallen branches and avoid the holes dug into the ground by small animals. In a clearing lies a group of people dressed uniformly in orange, suffering the ill-effects of the toxins in the air. He scans them for familiar faces, and the first person he recognizes is Pangzi. That means that Wu Xie is here as well because where one goes, the other follows.
The minute he identifies Wu Xie, he lifts him into a piggy-back. He is worryingly easy to carry, only skin and bones and determination holding him together. Zhang Qiling can feel the lightest of raspy exhales on the side of his neck. He puts Wu Xie down gently against the wall of the nearby cave and unceremoniously runs back out. "I'll just take care of him then, yaba-Zhang!" Hei Xiazi yells after his retreating back.
Pangzi is next, and this is not favoritism because he is the heaviest. Zhang Qiling knows that even his considerable store of energy will flag when the exertion, combined with the poisonous fog, gets to him as well.
He manages to carry all of Wu Xie’s companions out of the danger zone, just as his lungs start to burn and his vision blurs around the edges. He wants to slink off to recover and rest, but he doesn’t. Now, more than ever, his typical impassivity and composure are necessary. There is no room for weakness in times of crisis.
Hei Xiazi slaps him on the shoulder, hard enough to make him lean forward to absorb the blow. “Good job, yaba-Zhang,” he says cheerfully. Zhang Qiling rolls his eyes in response. Over the weeks he and Hei Xiazi were trapped together, Hei Xiazi made it his mission to be as annoying and as oblivious to the concept of personal space as possible. At this point, he is more resigned than uncomfortable, not that he would ever let Hei Xiazi know that. Give him an inch, and he would take a mile.
In need of something to do, he begins rummaging through the various backpacks for water bottles. Hei Xiazi, deciding to be useful at least once in this lifetime, starts to remove the gas masks. “These have been tampered with,” he says. Zhang Qiling nods calmly at what he already suspected. Inwardly he represses the sudden rage at the thought of someone deliberately setting Wu Xie, and Pangzi, up to die.
Thanks to improved air quality and the water they force down the throats of Wu Xie’s companions, some new, some he already knows, they come to one by one.
Except for Wu Xie.
As he lingers somewhere between life and death, lungs no doubt struggling under the increased load the poison places upon them, Zhang Qiling feels as if he is holding his breath. He left Wu Xie in the hope of a cure, a miracle, or even something to give them a little more time. Ultimately, he found nothing. He only managed to waste time. Wu Xie is still dying, and Zhang Qiling can’t save him from himself.
The young girl who introduced herself as Bai Haotian pours more water in a tin mug and takes it to him, care evident in her actions. Wu Xie is dangerously good at that: getting people to follow him, however unintentionally. Ambivalence is not an option when it comes to Wu Xie. His personality is magnetic. Zhang Qiling is honest enough to admit that he is not immune to that attraction.
He is standing off to the side and out of Wu Xie’s line of sight when Wu Xie finally wakes up. Pangzi has the most overt reaction to this, and immediately directs Wu Xie’s attention to him. Their eyes meet. Zhang Qiling sees the gathering tension drain from Wu Xie’s body, relief evident in a slow, trusting blink.
“So, in the end, it was still you who came to save my ass,” he says. Zhang Qiling offers a half-smile and a nod because this is neither the first time nor the last. Even if I was almost too late, he thinks.
"Of course Xiaoge will come for us!” Pangzi says with confidence that comes from long experience. Zhang Qiling opens his mouth to reply. He is interrupted by the sudden necessity of fending off Pangzi’s crushing hugs, then listening as Pangzi decides a second, formal, round of introductions are necessary.
He will wait.
Wu Xie falls back asleep, so they take this opportunity to discuss what they will do. Hei Xiazi takes the lead in providing explanations, and Zhang Qiling contributes when necessary. He is a consummate professional who can take in the information others share and quickly decide on the best course of action. Wu Xie, however, is a distraction. His traitorous eyes keep glancing over at the supine man. A part of him wants Wu Xie to wake up, and another is grateful because it makes it easier to do what is necessary: leave him behind as they go to find a better cave to set up camp. Focus, Zhang Qiling tells himself.
Zhang Qiling knows Wu Xie dislikes being left behind—he is guilty of doing so many times, for many reasons, some better than others. This time, everyone else shares his reasoning. Wu Xie needs a chance to regain his strength, no matter how capable of ignoring the fallacies of his all-too mortal body he is. Yet more exposure to the toxic air will do him no favors.
“Xiao san-ye! You’re awake!” Bai Haotian exclaims helpfully, just as their group is ready to set out. As Wu Xie orients himself and quickly takes in the situation, no one can meet his eyes.
“Be a good boy, stay here,” Pangzi says, his casual manner almost managing to smooth over the sudden awkwardness that permeates the cavern. Wu Xie looks from one person to another, first betrayed, then determined, then resigned.
Wu Xie catches Zhang Qiling’s eye. “Everyone, be safe,” he says. Zhang Qiling nods. He will protect them.
Zhang Qiling doesn't sleep the night after their return. Instead, he does what he does best: lurk and stay alert to any danger. An hour passes. The only things he can hear are the rustling of the leaves in the wind and the occasional scream of rabid animals. Boss Jiao’s group is out there somewhere, but considering the timeline and the lead Wu Xie’s party has, they should have one more night of respite.
He abandons his self-assigned post and slips into the cave. On silent feet, he moves to crouch beside Wu Xie. Pangzi lies beside him, imitating a koala with the way he has slung an arm and one leg over his friend. Zhang Qiling drinks in the sight of them, well, mostly Wu Xie, and allows fondness to slip into his gaze. Wu Xie rolls over onto his side and coughs. Pangzi grumbles and tightens his hold but does not wake up.
"Xiaoge," whispers Wu Xie. His voice cuts through the silence like a sharp knife. It almost sounds healthy. Wu Xie gropes blindly till his cold hand finds Zhang Qiling’s gloved one. If it were anyone else he would quickly extract his hand from the hold, but this is Wu Xie: the exception to most everything in Zhang Qiling's life. So, he holds the offered hand tightly, as if his iron will alone can drag Wu Xie back from the brink of death.
“Shh,” Wu Xie says, “don’t wake the others.” He looks over at Liu Sang who twitches in his sleep. Zhang Qiling raises an eyebrow. Between the two of them, Wu Xie is the one talking. All the same, he settles on his heels and knocks the pattern for Status? on Wu Xie’s wrist, just over his weak and surprisingly steady pulse.
Ok. Wu Xie replies immediately.
Not true. Wu Xie huffs a laugh. Zhang Qiling can perfectly picture his unrepentant expression. He runs his fingers over the back of Wu Xie’s hand only to feel unnaturally smooth skin, a telltale sign of a burn. Zhang Qiling has spent an inordinate amount of time cataloging Wu Xie’s every feature; he knows this scar is new. Zhang Qiling wishes he had been there, with him, instead of on an ultimately fruitless quest for a cure. That way, if he couldn't prevent the injuries and scars, at least he could destroy whatever caused them.
Status? Wu Xie asks in return, taking hold of his hand once more.
Ok. Zhang Qiling hesitates. Maybe it is the illusion of privacy, or maybe it's the rapidly emptying hourglass that marks the end of Wu Xie's time among the living, or maybe it is the sheer relief he wasn't expecting to feel that makes him add: Now that you are here. Immediately he cringes at the uncharacteristic sappiness, expecting Wu Xie to—well, he doesn’t know. Wu Xie only grasps his hand tighter. I missed you too, he knocks confidently, without a shred of embarrassment. He pushes Pangzi away so he can half-sit up, slumped against the backpack he was using as a pillow.
Injuries? Wu Xie then asks.
His blood has already counteracted the effects of the neurotoxin in the fog. Zhang Qiling snorts softly. No. You?
Yes. But I’m alright. He is not alright. He is dying. Zhang Qiling abruptly pulls his hand away. Wu Xie frowns though he should be able to see that Zhang Qiling is only sitting down, that this is not a reaction to the blatant lie. In retaliation, Wu Xie flings his arm over Zhang Qiling’s thighs as soon as he settles down, and stills. Just as Zhang Qiling thinks Wu Xie is content to stay like this, he feels a hand slide up his leg. Wu Xie begins to trace random patterns over his thigh, worrying at the seam of Zhang Qiling’s pants and lightly kneading into muscle. He deliberately does not react, even as Wu Xie's hand climbs higher and higher.
Zhang Qiling raises a hand and lets it hang suspended in the air for a moment, seemingly hesitant until he places it on Wu Xie’s head. He knocks: You’re planning to go to Thunder City. Alone. Let it not be said that Zhang Qiling can't give as good as he gets.
Wu Xie's hand stops wandering. You knew? he asks, tapping out the requisite patterns in the crease between Zhang Qiling’s thigh and hip bone.
I know you. Idly, Zhang Qiling massages Wu Xie’s forehead. It is cool to the touch, at least he doesn’t have a fever. He allows himself a feeling of amusement at the sight of Wu Xie trying to splutter silently.
Part of the reason Zhang Qiling has been paying such close attention to Wu Xie—beyond the fact that he always does—is that he wants to catch him as he slips away to die in pursuit of answers. Convincing Wu Xie to stay behind on a small mission is feasible. Blocking him from his ultimate goal is a lost cause.
He knows that nothing can stop Wu Xie from going where he truly wants to go, and Zhang Qiling also knows that the sooner Wu Xie can get his friends out of danger and place all the burden on himself, with as little fuss as possible, the happier he will be.
They are all too alike in that way.
Will it work? Wu Xie asks, neglecting to provide a subject. Will Wu Xie make it to Thunder City? Will the fabled treasure of the South Sea King help? Will he make it there alone? The answer to the latter is obviously ‘no’. Wu Xie can leave all the others behind, but the Iron Triangle must be together in the end. He must be there with Wu Xie.
Pangzi saves him from having to answer as he burrows deeper into Wu Xie’s personal space, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “Tianzhen, don’t you dare go dying without me.” Wu Xie looks at him, then up at Zhang Qiling. He smiles slightly then he pushes his head up into Zhang Qiling’s palm. In response, Zhang Qiling runs his fingers through the soft hair, oily and more than a bit dirty thanks to days without a proper wash. It is perfect. His fingers snag on a knot so he pulls lightly, Wu Xie barely seems to notice. He gets lost in finger-combing Wu Xie's hair, occasionally scratching the scalp and enjoying the way Wu Xie shivers.
For a short, companionable eternity, they exist in this liminal space: comfortable, relaxed, almost but not quite able to ignore everything else but each other. Five hours till dawn. Zhang Qiling finally taps out on Wu Xie’s forehead, when his hair is as smooth as it will get and he can no longer justify this moment of indulgence. Get some sleep before leaving. He gently pushes Wu Xie’s arm off of him and stands up.
As he goes back outside to his watch, Zhang Qiling can feel Wu Xie’s eyes on him even though he is no doubt barely visible thanks to the darkness and his black clothes. Nothing is resolved, not truly, not yet. Still, he feels more settled than before. It is raining now, a steady downpour. What pleasant weather for a sick man to go adventuring.
“Wu Xie, don’t you dare go dying without me,” he whispers sometime later, perched in a tree, drenched to the bone and waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to join Wu Xie when he leaves. There is no answer.