Chapter Text
Ye Zun sleeps through spring.
It's a few days until they realize he’s not going to wake up any time soon. Tense, busy days with so much else going on that everyone in the SID is being run ragged. Having the man who tried to kill them all napping in the interrogation room is one of those things they learn to live with, though Wang Zheng and Sang Zan are the only ones who don’t take a moment to ask their chief if he's sure. The others all do, each in their own way, and Zhao Yunlan tells them all the same thing. “He’s staying.”
Ye Zun stays, and stays asleep.
Shen Wei spends hours doing all in his power to wake his brother, before concluding that Ye Zun sleeps because he doesn't wish to wake.
“You mean he’s—choosing this?” Zhao Yunlan asks where he sits cross-legged on the table in the interrogation room.
Shen Wei’s eyes drift to the silver head poking out of the dark blue sleeping bag they’ve found for Ye Zun, because it was weird just leaving him sprawled on the floor. “Yes. It is sleep—very deep, but…” He sighs. “Restful. I suppose with everything that has happened, his body needs time to recover.”
“You’ve seen it before, then?”
Shen Wei nods, still looking at his brother. “Not often. But occasionally, it’s one of the ways we deal with… with trauma.”
Zhao Yunlan can hear the guilt in that, as though that trauma was something Shen Wei inflicted rather than tried to protect his brother from. “Sounds like a coma to me.” Though due to emotional damage, maybe, rather than physical.
“It isn’t. Not as you would define it,” Shen Wei says. “With our bodies, it’s different.”
“Ah,” Zhao Yunlan says, because it’s true—people don’t always come out of comas, but Shen Wei seems sure Ye Zun will wake up from this. “Well, let me know in good time if you ever decide to hibernate, okay?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but the memory of Shen Wei as motionless as Ye Zun, unresponsive to everything Zhao Yunlan did to wake him, is still uncomfortably close.
“It’s not hibernation,” Shen Wei explains. "Hibernation is seasonal."
“So what do you call this? A very intense nap?"
Eventually, Shen Wei stops correcting Zhao Yunlan’s choice of terminology.
It’s Wang Zheng who suggests they move the not-hibernating Ye Zun to the library. “Professor Shen’s brother will not take up much space.”
“If he wakes up—”
“We do not sleep, Chief Zhao,” she reminds Zhao Yunlan, who hasn’t forgotten. “We will keep careful watch.”
Zhao Yunlan considers her request. She has come to his office alone, but only because Sang Zan is watching Ye Zun through the two-way mirror. Her poise is a little stiff—trying for regal, but clearly worried her request will be refused. She was there in the lab when Ye Zun attacked—rushed to Lin Jing’s defense, and saw what Ye Zun tried to do. But now she’d watch over his sleep? Zhao Yunlan glances at the pencil he’s fiddling with to hide how proud he is of her determination.
“Like I was saying," he tells her, "if Ye Zun wakes up, he might be confused. He shouldn’t be dangerous to you, not anymore—but he might be to himself.”
Zhao Yunlan looks up at her, and sees Wang Zheng’s eyes widen. She nods firmly. “We won’t let anything happen to him,” she says, and Zhao Yunlan believes her. The other members of the SID, they would keep Ye Zun safe if their chief ordered them to. Wang Zheng and Sang Zan will keep him safe because they understand how terrible actions can be born out of unbearable pain. Maybe better than Zhao Yunlan himself understands, for all that he was there to witness Ye Zun’s making and unravelling both.
Wang Zheng orders a bed online. It comes in a flat pack that completely stumps Sang Zan, who claims he could more easily have made one from scratch with his own two hands. The furniture assembly project ends up involving all of the SID. It takes many arguments about the instructions, and reading ability (or lack thereof, or whether it's called "reading" when the instructions are simple pictograms), and who lost an entire bag of wingnuts.
When they finally have it standing levelly on four legs, it proves to be a large, squat bed. Larger than strictly necessary for one immobile sleeper. They place it in a corner of the library, nestled between the shelves behind Sang Zan’s desk. There is a window with natural light there, and it’s out of the way without being completely out of sight. They retire the sleeping bag, and place Ye Zun on plump pillows under a soft down cover. The sheets are all in restful shades of blue and gray. Sang Zan picked them, when Wang Zheng ordered the bed.
Zhao Yunlan isn’t surprised when he drops into the library before heading home that first night of the new arrangement, and finds Wang Zheng sitting next to Ye Zun’s sleeping form. She is gently combing his long hair. Sang Zan leans against a nearby shelf, watching them both with a thoughtful expression.
“Shen Wei makes sure he’s in good shape, you know,” Zhao Yunlan says. Remaining motionless and unfed for as long as Ye Zun has would soon damage a Haixing body. Shen Wei says it is different for Dixing physiology—but he also checks up on his brother every day he can, and siphons energy into that sleeping body. Zhao Yunlan can feel the drain of it through their bond.
Wang Zheng nods. “Professor Shen was here earlier,” she says. She doesn’t stop the slow, repetitive motions of the comb through handfuls of silver hair. They share a moment of silence, the three of them. Then Wang Zheng adds, “But he can never stay for long.”
Zhao Yunlan knows that Shen Wei hates leaving Ye Zun alone—but with so many duties to attend to, he can’t spare the time for the kind of companionship Wang Zheng is now offering. Zhao Yunlan wonders if Ye Zun has ever known such a gentle touch from anyone not family. He suspects he knows the answer—just as he believes the same was true for Shen Wei, before Kunlun.
“Does he—does he dream?” Sang Zan asks, breaking his long silence.
Zhao Yunlan tilts his head to the side, considers the question. “I don’t know,” he says. “Probably not? He doesn’t move or anything.” And Shen Wei did say he was resting. Dreams would probably not be very restful.
“So he’s—he’s always in dark?” Sang Zan shudders, and Zhao Yunlan remembers that before they found him, the SID’s librarian spent a century trapped underground.
“He’s asleep,” Zhao Yunlan says. “It probably doesn’t feel like anything at all.”
Sang Zan and Wang Zheng exchange glances. Zhao Yunlan lets them doubt his word, because he’s not sure of it himself. And if one of the library lights stays on around the clock at the SID after that—well, nobody is going to complain about the energy bill.
rYe Zun is the only one of them to get enough sleep.
Shen Wei doesn’t need much rest himself, but he feels the lack of it in Zhao Yunlan, and sees it in the drawn faces around the SID. They are drowning in work. Work cleaning up after Ye Zun’s would-be army, work managing a city forced to face the existence of Dixing after long years of pretending ignorance, and work making all the right connections to manage the whole, sprawling mess.
Shen Wei would do more to help them face those dangers, and shoulder those responsibilities. But he can’t be everywhere at once, and Dixing’s need is very great.
Treaties signed in the spirit of peace and understanding ten thousand years ago have been trampled into dust by Ye Zun’s reckless violence, so Dixing stands alone. Its hidden citizens in Haixing are left untethered and frightened, and Dixing itself is suddenly remote. The portals between the realms work sporadically and unreliably, as though they too were held in place by those accords that Ye Zun broke. Nobody knows what will happen if they fail completely—not even Shen Wei. But every time he stands on Dixing’s soil, it is as if he can feel the pressure of all that separates him from Haixing, piled on his heart. Shen Wei already lost Zhao Yunlan once, and Ye Zun twice. If one day the way to Haixing remains closed for him, he will lose them both again.
With the new king’s permission, Shen Wei sets the best minds in Dixing to the problem of the portals. Then he puts on his most polite smile, and approaches the president of Dragon City University. It probably helps that Minister Guo has called ahead, and that the chief of the newly popular SID has stopped by in person for a chat. But even before he has tasted his tea, Shen Wei finds that his position at the university remains as it was, awaiting his return. Officially, he is already on sabbatical.
In his role as consultant to the SID, Shen Wei pulls together a cross-disciplinary scientific taskforce, funded entirely by the Haixing Ministry of Supervision. Shen Wei doesn’t pick the most senior or best published of his peers, but searches for people at Dragon City University and beyond—from students to professors—with interests a little outside the neat boxes of academia. People who all find the puzzle of the Dixing portals a fascinating challenge when he describes it to them.
There is of course only one person he considers for group leadership, if she will have it. Li Qian’s academic background is the same as his own—hardly ideal for what many he has spoken to have classified as a physicists’ conundrum. But she has a mind more resilient and flexible than almost any other human Shen Wei has ever encountered, and so is perfectly suited for the task.
Given the circumstances under which they last met, however, Shen Wei is not quite sure how to approach her. He considers the question as he cooks a quick rstir-fried pork with green peppers—the first meal he and Zhao Yunlan have had together in private for five days.
“Li Qian?” Zhao Yunlan exclaims, his chopsticks freezing halfway to his mouth when Shen Wei asks him over dinner. He looks agitated, though Shen Wei can’t say why. “Seriously? That’s who you’ve been thinking about—Li Qian?”
“I don’t see why you should have reservations. She is an excellent researcher, and—”
“I know that! I was going to hire her!” Zhao Yunlan gestures with the chopsticks, still holding a slice of pork.
Shen Wei stares at him. “You?” What does Zhao Yunlan need a geneticist for?
“The SID,” Zhao Yunlan says, and punctuates the statement by finally eating the morsel. He looks at Shen Wei, holding a hand up to shovel rice into his mouth, then he keeps talking as he chews. “We need more staff, especially right now, and Li Qian would be perfect!”
“But she’s a scientist.”
“So? That didn’t stop me hiring you, did it?” Zhao Yunlan swallows, and dives back into the food. “Or Lin Jing,” he mutters around a mouthful. “Though honestly I suspect someone gave him that degree so he’d stop blowing up their lab equipment.”
It is true that the SID is understaffed for current circumstances, and Li Qian has already been a great help to them—but that’s exactly why Shen Wei wants her. He knows that he can trust her, even if she is faced with science nobody fully understands. “Have you spoken to her?” Shen Wei asks.
Zhao Yunlan shakes his head. “Been too busy,” he says, swallowing. “And I wanted to make sure we had space for her—get Lin Jing to move some of the stuff we’re not using, like the Hallows array, so she’d feel welcome. But he’s been busy too, so…” He looks up at Shen Wei with a crooked smile. “You ask her,” he says.
“Even though you still wish to hire her?”
“Yeah. Tell her that too, so she knows she has a choice! She could always come to us. But…” Zhao Yunlan’s smile fades.
“Yunlan?” Shen Wei wonders what has caused Zhao Yunlan’s change in mood, which he can feel as a weight on his heart. He hopes it isn’t that he is inconveniencing the SID.
“Nothing,” Zhao Yunlan says, and digs into his rice. They both know that nothing is a lie, and Shen Wei waits in silence until Zhao Yunlan makes a face, resigning himself to honesty.
“Fine,” he says, leaning back a bit in his seat. “I was just thinking—it’s probably safer for her with you. Even if I didn’t hire her as a field agent—they’ve all ended up in the middle of things, you know?” Zhao Yunlan is looking at his food.
Shen Wei does know. Asking those who trust you to go into danger, never knowing how many will make it back alive, knowing only that there is no guarantee they will—that burden is never easy to bear. And because he knows that they aren’t simply talking about Li Qian now, he reaches out and rests his hand on Zhao Yunlan’s shoulder for a moment.
It startles Zhao Yunlan into lifting his head. “You kept them all safe,” Shen Wei reminds him.
Zhao Yunlan grimaces. “Hardly,” he says. “After all, what I asked of them—”
“What they offered,” Shen Wei says, giving Zhao Yunlan's shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand drop. He is glad that they are talking about this, now. He was—concerned. They have discussed much, in the weeks since returning from Dixing, but so far Zhao Yunlan has chosen not to speak of what passed between him and his team with the Longevity Sundial. Or maybe it simply hasn’t had time to come up, between their many duties and what they prefer to do when given precious time to themselves. A more pressing subject has been the guilt they both carry—Zhao Yunlan’s entirely undeserved, Shen Wei’s own more...complicated. (Zhao Yunlan will not allow him to name it well-earned.)
“You know,” Zhao Yunlan says, eyes downcast as he avoids agreeing with Shen Wei. “I almost ordered Xiao Guo to go to Dixing, when we were looking for you. It’s what got him shot—and I nearly made him go.”
“You didn’t, though,” Shen Wei says, and doesn’t interrupt what Zhao Yunlan is trying to say by claiming full responsibility for Xiao Guo’s injury. One he sustained coming to Shen Wei’s assistance.
“He volunteered. Him and Lao Chu. But he very nearly didn’t make it back that time and then—” Zhao Yunlan puts his chopsticks down, his posture stiff as his shoulders tense. “Look. We did what we had to, for the sake of Dixing and Haixing both. And I get that—even an intern would have understood what was at stake, and anyone who didn’t want to come could have walked away for good. But after that—what they did—” His jaw clenches, and Shen Wei knows he is thinking of the Longevity Sundial. Of what his team did for him.
“Zhao Yunlan,” Shen Wei says, and Zhao Yunlan blinks him into focus. “It was their choice.” One Shen Wei understands—one he would make ten thousand times over. How could anyone stand to choose a longer life without Zhao Yunlan, than a shorter one with him?
“I have no idea what it did to them,” Zhao Yunlan says, a raw edge to his voice. “I mean, we think we know what it did to Li Qian, after she healed her grandmother, but we can’t know for sure. Not until she’s what? Fifty? And with all four of them—what if that confused the Hallow? They can get pretty intense when there’s something they want.”
“I have examined everyone closely,” Shen Wei reminds Zhao Yunlan. “There is nothing abnormal about their energies—nothing to suggest any ill effects.”
“Yet,” Zhao Yunlan mutters, his shoulders slumping from tension to resignation.
“Yunlan,” Shen Wei says, feeling the difference in age and experience between them in a way Zhao Yunlan’s quicksilver mind and cocksure attitude usually prevents. “If the people who follow you choose to give their lives for your sake—that is their choice, and nothing you can begrudge them.”
“But I don’t want them to give their lives,” Zhao Yunlan sounds almost angry. Shen Wei knows it isn’t aimed at him.
“No,” Shen Wei agrees. “No good leader would.” Shen Wei understands that Zhao Yunlan is also a good friend—a better one than he ever was to his people. “But the fact that you see this as a burden, and not something that is your right—that is what makes you a great one.”
Without meeting Shen Wei’s gaze, Zhao Yunlan starts to grimace—to protest. Then his eyes grow wide, and his anger softens. He sighs. “Ah, Xiao Wei. Does it—does it ever get any easier?”
“No,” Shen Wei says simply, instead of offering false comfort.
Zhao Yunlan’s lips tighten, and then his features rearrange themselves around a brief laugh. In the low, warm sound Shen Wei hears a tired exhalation of tension and gentle self-mockery. “Not even if I hire people I can’t stand?”
“Zhao Yunlan,” Shen Wei says, putting on a stern air. “No. Just imagine the apology letters you would have to write to the Ministry, if you started being careless with your staff.”
Shen Wei’s reward for the frivolity of his reply is a broad, bright grin. “Wouldn’t you write them for your husband?” Zhao Yunlan says, and Shen Wei’s heart skips—it always does, when Zhao Yunlan refers to their promised marriage.
“I—I certainly would not,” Shen Wei protests.
“But they expect your neat handwriting now! They wouldn’t believe it came from the chief of the SID if they saw my own forceful strokes...” Zhao Yunlan pouts at Shen Wei, who accidentally lets a fond smile slip. He swallows it back, sighing at Zhao Yunlan.
“May I suggest getting competent staff you like as an alternative to finding disposable hires?”
“Like Li Qian?” Zhao Yunlan asks, as he picks up his chopsticks again.
“Like Li Qian,” Shen Wei agrees, then adds, “Though I did just get Professor Emerita Wu to agree to participate in my project.”
Zhao Yunlan looks blankly at him while heaping more pork and peppers on his rice. Shen Wei allows a hint of smugness to permeate his explanation, which he calibrates for Zhao Yunlan’s superficial knowledge of academia. “One of the foremost theoretical physicists of our time. Li Qian had a poster of Professor Wu receiving the world’s most prestigious scientific award by her desk in the graduate students’ office.”
“A poster?” Zhao Yunlan whines. “That’s unfair! All I have is Lin Jing!”
“I don’t believe anyone had a poster of him,” Shen Wei says thoughtfully.
Zhao Yunlan rolls his eyes, as his mouth is too full to speak.
“But I will extend your invitation to join the SID to Li Qian when I speak to her.” Which he decides he will do by calling her. Then she will have the option of hanging up on him if Shen Wei’s callous attitude to Zhao Yunlan in Professor Ouyang’s laboratory has made her think less of him.
“Before or after you tell her about this Professor Wu?” Zhao Yunlan asks plaintively.
“After,” Shen Wei answers promptly, and hides his smile as Zhao Yunlan explodes into mock protest.
The playful argument doesn’t subside until Zhao Yunlan makes it physical, deftly manipulating Shen Wei into bed though the dishes are still sitting out on the kitchen counter. It feels too good to hold Zhao Yunlan in his arms for Shen Wei to care that he is enforcing bad habits. Shen Wei can work on those once they have a surplus of time for themselves. For now, both of them need this—the heat of it, the closeness—more than Zhao Yunlan needs rest and Shen Wei needs to complete the tasks he has begun.
Not even after Zhao Yunlan has drifted off does Shen Wei get up and do the dishes. He is needed elsewhere.
Normally, Shen Wei would try to stay at Zhao Yunlan’s side. The nightmares that have plagued him since they returned from Dixing are taking a brutal toll on his sleep. The only thing that seems to help is having Shen Wei there—he can feel them building through the energies connecting them, and is often able to coax Zhao Yunlan back to sleep before he wakes fully. But Shen Wei knows from experience that the potent combination of endorphins and exhaustion will have calmed him deeply enough for a couple of peaceful sleep cycles. Nothing should disturb him until early morning.
More than enough time for Shen Wei to transport himself to the SID and then return. Out of courtesy for the watchful Wang Zheng and Sang Zan, he makes sure to arrive downstairs, near the entrance. His footsteps echo in the empty offices, and he calls a greeting as he mounts the stairs. None of them wish to have a repeat of the incident with the—the interruption, when Shen Wei picked the wrong time to appear in the library.
“Good evening, Professor Shen,” Wang Zheng calls softly from above—she still treats nights the same way someone used to being around light sleepers would. She rises from Sang Zan’s desk to greet Shen Wei when he comes into view. She has kept a small reading light lit, but the rest of the floor is dim. The massive fan blades that keep the air moving on hot summer days are still, now, and watery moonlight falls through all the windows.
Sang Zan comes up behind her, from where he was keeping watch by Ye Zun’s bedside. The young man nods seriously in greeting. “He’s still sleeping,” Sang Zan reports. The words are worn familiar enough that he doesn’t hesitate when speaking them.
“Thank you, Sang Zan, Wang Zheng.”
They both smile at him, and Sang Zan takes Wang Zheng’s arm as they move to sit together in the lounge. Shen Wei appreciates the gesture, though he doesn’t need to be alone with his brother for this.
The faint light leeches the color out of everything, even to Shen Wei’s eyes. His brother looks carved in ivory—silver hair washed white, skin even paler than that of those in Dixing who have never seen the sun. The only motion in him is that of the slow, slow rise and fall of his chest, and the sluggish pulse in his neck. Shen Wei knows that if he keeps watching his brother, the only thing that will shift is the slant of the shadows across his features—not an eyelash will twitch. Ye Zun sleeps in perfect stillness.
And even though he is sleeping, the smiling round animal faces patterning Ye Zun’s pajamas are—incongruous. Shen Wei can see them peek out above the covers pulled up to Ye Zun’s armpits. They are not Shen Wei’s doing—nor Zhao Yunlan’s, though he did laugh uproariously the first time he saw them. Wang Zheng calmly defended the choice, claiming flannel would be more comfortable for a sleeper than layers of Dixing robes. But she didn’t say that she was the one to choose the pattern. One that does look soft, and—childish.
It is a puzzling sensation, having others caring for his Didi’s comfort. Shen Wei can't quite believe it yet—he trusts Zhao Yunlan’s people, of course. But he also knows that neither Wang Zheng nor Sang Zan has spent many moments in Ye Zun’s company. He has resigned himself to the fact that the easy sympathy with which they treat their sleeping charge will most likely transform to something else entirely once that sleeper wakes.
As for Zhao Yunlan himself—after what Ye Zun did to him, Zhao Yunlan would have been perfectly within his rights to exact retribution. Instead he listened to Ye Zun, and healed him, and took him away from whatever fate would have awaited him in Dixing. Zhao Yunlan does not have to let Ye Zun hide away in his own SID—does not have to exert the authority of the Lord Guardian to keep a guilty man safe from those who would have their vengeance on him. And yet he does.
Zhao Yunlan will protect Ye Zun. Shen Wei doesn’t doubt it—not anymore. The certainty of that undeserved loyalty brings a deep and fierce joy—and guilt, for wanting this. For wanting Zhao Yunlan to forgive what should be unforgivable. For hoping that maybe, just maybe, Zhao Yunlan can continue treating Ye Zun as a brother, even after Ye Zun wakes. Shen Wei shouldn’t hope, and should have learned better than to trust Ye Zun, but this time—this time he’s not alone in wanting to save his Didi. Zhao Yunlan used the Awl, and Shen Wei used the Sundial, and Ye Zun regained memories lost and returned those memories and powers he himself had stolen. That changes everything.
It could change everything, if Ye Zun let it.
Shen Wei sighs, and takes his brother’s cold, limp hand. He doesn’t have to—there is no need for any physical touch for the transfer of energies. But though Ye Zun’s sleep feels deep and dreamless, when he trails his senses across the calm surface of his brother’s mind, Shen Wei can’t rid himself of the irrational thought that maybe Ye Zun can sense his presence like this. That it might even offer him some comfort, to know that his Ge keeps returning to his side.
Wang Zheng and Sang Zan speak to Ye Zun, and read to him. Shen Wei has even found Zhao Yunlan talking softly at Ye Zun. But other than, “I’m here, Didi,” Shen Wei doesn’t know what to say. What else could he talk about, when their last conversation brought such a chasm of hurt to light? Even knowing that Zei Qiu is to blame for so much of their actions and assumptions, Shen Wei is afraid to say anything that isn’t an apology. So he usually simply holds Ye Zun’s hand, and shares a little of his life force with his brother. Dixing bodies don’t need much to sustain them in deep sleep. But it will help keep Ye Zun from experiencing any unexpected side effects. And, Shen Wei hopes, it will help speed up the healing that Ye Zun is seeking.
Shen Wei hopes, because he doesn’t know. Not even with all the gifts he has learned can he see into his brother’s heart. The energy he pours into Ye Zun, Shen Wei senses as a single glowing drop—and then when it shifts from being his energy to being his twin’s, that drop is swallowed up by a deep stillness, leaving not a ripple behind.
Perhaps being still and blank is not such a bad thing. Shen Wei sighs, thinking of half a dozen things he should be doing, and gives his Di’s hand a quick squeeze. “Good night,” he says, accepting the bittersweet memory of when they would say it to each other—his little brother holding Shen Wei’s hand until sleepiness won out over fear of the night. He hears Ye Zun’s barely perceptible exhalation, and takes it for a parting greeting. His heart—Zhao Yunlan—is still calm, but it is time he returned home.
Zhao Yunlan sighs and unwraps a lollipop. His spirit isn’t in it, though—the lollipop will do absolutely nothing to help him with the mountain of paperwork on his desk. There are loose sheets of papers, and stapled sheets of paper, and manila folders and plastic folders and—is that an actual binder? Zhao Yunlan shudders expressively.
Knowing what he does of bureaucracy, he should have suspected that saving the world would come with a few forms and some sticky red tape, but this? This is just unfair. The stack is literally taller than Da Qing. (Cat Da Qing, or Zhao Yunlan might have had to exercise some judicious arson.) Zhao Yunlan checked, as part of his—preparations.
Just as he’s tidied all of his drawers and finally gotten rid of that broken filing cabinet and is now sucking on a fresh lollipop. All part of preparing for this bit of the process.
All part of hoping that maybe one of their rogue Dixingren fighters will pick this precise moment to strike so that Zhao Yunlan can be urgently called away, instead of having to deal with—the pile.
It’s been growing on his desk since before he got back from ten thousand years ago. Wang Zheng—practically running the office now that Zhu Hong keeps getting called away on Yashou business—won’t let him leave anything truly urgent sitting around, so this is just… the rest. Zhao Yunlan shifts the lollipop in his mouth, and rummages around for a decent ballpoint pen.
He can do this.
Fifteen minutes later there are three loose sheets of paper and one manila folder in Zhao Yunlan’s outbox, and he’s looking at his phone. More exactly: at his bank account. He honestly didn’t mean to stop working on the pile, but it made him realize there is other paperwork he should be figuring out, too. He’s never bought property before, but every time he’s out with people his age it’s all some of them can talk about, so how hard can it be?
Zhao Yunlan likes his place fine, but it’s not really big enough for two and a cat, for all that they’ve made do. Certainly not for three and a cat, which… He grimaces. Well. It’s not like they can permanently house Xiao Zun in the SID’s library. Not once he wakes up. Sucking in a noisy breath, he waves that annoying thought aside, and goes back to the figures in his total statement. He thinks it’s probably enough to serve as a down payment for—well. Something big enough that the master bedroom can fit a very robust bed, and Shen Wei can have a proper desk, and they can have a kitchen not designed with bachelors in mind.
Just enough, and it won’t leave him much for anything else. Certainly not enough for a proper wedding. The shiver of joy at wedding makes him grin, even with the pile right there. He tips his chair back enough to get his feet up on the part of the desk not covered in papers, thinking. Maybe instead of buying something new, Ye Zun could take Shen Wei’s old apartment—after all, it’s not like they use it for anything except as an auxiliary, and storing Shen Wei’s few belongings. But that won’t change the fact that Shen Wei is having to put up with a subpar kitchen. And if they got a proper bedroom with a door, maybe Da Qing would stop complaining about lifelong trauma.
Really, Zhao Yunlan just wants to buy Shen Wei a house. Wants, enough that it’s an instinct or urge beyond the mere practical reasons why it might be a good idea. He’s seen how Shen Wei used to live—camping out with his army, wandering the mountains, never having anywhere to come home to. And even now—when they met Shen Wei was living in the teachers’ dorm, and now he’s sharing Zhao Yunlan’s cramped space. He deserves better.
Of course, Shen Wei also deserves an outrageously splendid wedding. Not that Shen Wei really cares about it, really—he hasn’t said it in so many words, but only because he has been adorably awkwardly avoiding the subject and Zhao Yunlan has been very easily distracted. But it’s a matter of principle. Zhao Yunlan has the best husband-to-be of all times—certainly better than any of the grooms at the weddings he’s suffered through for friends and acquaintances (even those where he was the groom’s friend or acquaintance)—so how could he resist making sure everyone knows it?
Zhao Yunlan groans. He might not want to resist, but his bank account is going to—at least if he wants to take his new husband home to something more suitable than their current apartment. The ceiling has no opinion on the matter, but Zhao Yunlan stares at it for a while. That way he can’t see the pile, or his bank account.
There are, of course, two other perfectly logical options. A young man in his position would usually get help from his parents—and those of the other groom.
The thought of asking his father makes Zhao Yunlan snort derisively. His father’s reservations about Shen Wei might change eventually, perhaps—certainly saving the world should count in his favor—but Zhao Yunlan isn’t exactly in a hurry to deal with any of that. Maybe he’ll send his father a postcard from their honeymoon. That would certainly be one way of breaking the news. It’s an entertaining thought, entirely spoiled by the fact that Shen Wei would never allow it.
So the other option is to ask—well, obviously not Shen Wei’s parents, but Shen Wei has been in Dragon City for long enough that he could well be his own paperwork father. Zhao Yunlan could ask Shen Wei to pay. But he doesn’t want to. It wouldn’t feel right. Besides, cleaning out both their savings would hardly be the responsible thing to do, with another mouth to feed—two, if they count the cat.
Maybe another lollipop will make Zhao Yunlan feel better about having to make reasonable choices, and not splurging on Shen Wei. Even though someone as wonderful and gorgeous and willing to marry Zhao Yunlan as he is deserves everything. It’s worth a try. Zhao Yunlan sighs as he reaches for the pile—and nearly knocks it over. He catches it just in time, patting it to stabilize it, and then considers. Does it all absolutely need to be done by him? Maybe he should delegate some of it to his subordinates. He is the chief, after all. He has important work to do. Like—looking up auspicious dates for the rest of the year, and comparing wedding venues, and downloading all those real estate apps his property-obsessed acquaintances are always going on about.
Zhao Yunlan has just picked up the pile for delegation to the main office when Wang Zheng sweeps through his door, and finds him standing there with an armload of paperwork.
“Chief Zhao,” she says. Her tone is very suspicious.
“Can I help you?” Zhao Yunlan says.
“Chief Zhao, those are sorted in order of urgency. I hope you haven’t been moving them around?”
They were sorted? That—that is probably something Wang Zheng told him already. Zhao Yunlan smiles feebly. “Uh. I was just…”
“Yes?”
Zhao Yunlan sits down again, placing the large pile of papers and folders very carefully on top of the slim stack he’d kept for himself. “Nothing,” Zhao Yunlan says. “Nothing, I was—sitting down to do them. Look—there’s a couple for you?” He gestures hopefully to the out tray.
Wang Zheng narrows her eyes at him. “Yes. It is good that you are making progress.” Somehow she makes it sound like a threat.
“Right, so. What did you want?”
“To bring you these.” Wang Zheng turns her pitiless gaze on him, and for the first time Zhao Yunlan realizes that she’s holding half a dozen manila folders. “Let me see. These should go…” She runs her fingers down the pile until she’s a third of the way through, and then stops. “Here.”
Zhao Yunlan swallows a groan, and fixes Wang Zheng with a cheerful grin. “Yes. Of course. I knew that, and I will totally get to those today.”
“Thank you, Chief Zhao,” Wang Zheng says, and sweeps out of the office with one final narrow-eyed stare at him over her shoulder.
The moment she’s gone, Zhao Yunlan exhales slowly, and then giggles—he feels like a schoolboy caught copying answers, and he didn’t even make it out the door with the files. He’s lucky Wang Zheng didn’t catch him trying to sneak them onto the others’ desks. She would never have let him live it down.
Zhao Yunlan rolls his shoulders, reaches for the pen, and grabs the topmost document. One third of the pile today. How hard could it be?
The answer is—very. Most of them he has to read. Several he has to compose replies to, not just sign. He’s just about to give up for the night when Li Qian calls from the university, explaining that they picked up portal activity and Shen Wei left, saying he was urgently needed on the Dixing side.
Urgently enough that there wasn’t even time for him to call Zhao Yunlan himself. There’s a tightness across Zhao Yunlan’s chest at that, and he takes a deep breath after hanging up. He won’t pretend it’s okay—having Shen Wei on the other side of those unreliable portals is bad. It would have been bad even before everything happened, but now, after all the portals and partings and coming back to find Shen Wei gone… He closes his eyes, and focuses on Shen Wei’s presence. There. Warm and steady and there, even when Shen Wei isn’t.
There’s a knock on his door. Zhao Yunlan opens his eyes and looks up. “Chief Zhao?” Wang Zheng again. Not sweeping in with files this time. “Li Qian called,” she says by way of explanation. “What would you like to order for dinner?”
Zhao Yunlan gets the beef noodle soup he ordered, and a whole lot of company for dinner he didn’t. Even without any new emergencies, everyone is very unsubtly hanging around the office ‘catching up on paperwork’ or ‘running diagnostics’ or—well, Da Qing is just napping on the couch. Zhao Yunlan can’t actually bring himself to mind, though he’s tempted to tell them they get no overtime for babysitting their chief.
The only way he gets any of them to leave is by going home himself. Da Qing invites himself along, hopping on the back of Zhao Yunlan’s motorcycle in cat form, and threatening to hang on to Zhao Yunlan’s jacket with his claws unless he’s given a proper ride. It’s late enough when they get back that exhaustion is dragging at Zhao Yunlan, but he spends a good hour avoiding sleep by quickly going to download those real estate apps and getting thoroughly distracted browsing everything available within walking distance of the university. Da Qing tries a couple of “Lao Zhao? Lao Zhao!” but when Zhao Yunlan ignores him he sighs and curls up in a basket.
Cats probably don’t avoid sleep just because of nightmares.
Zhao Yunlan finally lets himself collapse into bed when he can’t remember which of the listings he’s already visited. It feels good to close his eyes, and he burrows into the covers, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and Shen Wei. Then he tries to relax. It’s not like he can go entirely without sleep. And just because he’s slept terribly all the other nights Shen Wei has been in Dixing… Well, at some point that’ll get better, right? Maybe tonight’s the night.
And maybe there was some deep and dreamless sleep, but all Zhao Yunlan knows when he is jerked awake by Da Qing’s hand on his shoulder is crushing terror. “Lao Zhao?”
Zhao Yunlan gasps, pulse racing, cold sweat plastering his t-shirt to his back.
Da Qing leans over him, shaking his shoulder again. “Lao Zhao?” The damn cat doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to, when his voice is so full of questions.
Zhao Yunlan shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He knows that it was just a nightmare, even if the panic hasn’t receded yet. He breathes through it as he shudders at the vivid memories of—of nothing he wants any fucking memories of, so instead he forces himself to meet Da Qing’s worried eyes. “It’s okay,” he grunts, sitting up before Da Qing can shake him again.
The cat gives him a highly doubtful stare.
“I’m fine.” He’s not in Dixing, Shen Wei’s not—Zhao Yunlan hunches over, pressing both hands against his chest, as if he can shove through his ribcage to feel Shen Wei’s living presence there. It sits warm and solid next to his wildly beating heart—and of course it isn’t something he can touch, but for a few breaths that pressure feels good. Comforting.
“You were making some weird noises,” Da Qing says carefully.
“I thought you could sleep through anything,” Zhao Yunlan retorts.
“Oh!” Da Qing rummages around his pockets. “Yeah, no, that wasn’t what woke me up. This was.” He holds up his phone. Zhao Yunlan blinks blearily at it. Apparently it’s 4:19 am, and—is Da Qing’s background image a bag of dried fish?
“What?” Zhao Yunlan is beginning to wonder if he’s still dreaming.
Da Qing glances at the phone, and goes, “Ah! Right, it wasn’t a message, it was a call.”
“A call?” Zhao Yunlan tenses up, instantly alert as he cycles through scenarios bad enough for anyone to call them at this hour.
“It was Wang Zheng.” Da Qing makes a face and takes a deep breath while Zhao Yunlan feels like he’s been hauled under a cold shower. Wang Zheng would never bother them needlessly, so—
“It’s Ye Zun,” Da Qing continues. “She thinks he’s waking up.”
“What?” Waking up? Ye Zun? But—Shen Wei isn’t around. And why did Wang Zheng call Da Qing and not Zhao Yunlan? He reaches for his own phone, ready to call her at once, but it’s dead. He must have run down the battery without noticing.
“Yeah. She said you should probably hurry over?”
“Damn cat,” Zhao Yunlan growls as he throws himself out of bed and strips the damp t-shirt off, rummaging around for yesterday’s clothes on the floor. “You should have said something sooner!”
Da Qing shrugs a non-apology, and waits by the door while Zhao Yunlan grabs his jacket, helmet and keys. The fresh night air brushes the last of the nightmare’s cobwebs from his mind. He drives fast, Da Qing clinging on for dear life as he makes it to the SID in record time. He slams the door to the office open and takes the stairs up to the loft two at a time, Da Qing following close behind. “Wang Zheng?”
“We’re here, Chief Zhao,” she says, her voice carrying brightly in the dim stillness. Wang Zheng doesn’t sound alarmed, but Zhao Yunlan doesn’t relax until he can see their silhouettes between the shelves—Wang Zheng sitting on the bedside, Sang Zan standing beside her. There's no sign yet of Ye Zun being up and about.
Zhao Yunlan stops. He quickly shrugs out of his jacket, and undoes his holster—after going armed for so long in the past, it has become a habit to wear it.
“Here,” he says, pushing the revolver in its holster at Da Qing.
“Uh, what?”
“Just take it!”
“Lao Zhao, are you sure—” Da Qing tries to protest, but Zhao Yunlan lets go of the whole thing, forcing Da Qing to catch it.
“Yeah. Leave it in my office.” He is sure that he doesn’t want to freak Ye Zun out even more. With Shen Wei absent, it’s going to be challenging enough to deal with Ye Zun without making him think Zhao Yunlan sees him as a threat. Which Zhao Yunlan doesn’t—not really, not when he thinks about it. That latest nightmare is nothing but scraps of impressions he’s going to do his best to forget. He's certainly not going to make decisions based on remembered fear.
"But—"
"I need you to go there anyway. We should send a message to Dixing. Shen Wei might not get it for a while, but he should know."
Da Qing can't argue with that, but he doesn't look happy. "Fine."
Zhao Yunlan gives him a sunny smile. "And then you can wait around in case there's an answer."
"Lao Zhao!"
"I'll call for you if I need you."
Da Qing makes an insolent, "Hmph!" and hops onto the handrail to slide downstairs without another word.
“How is he?” Zhao Yunlan walks over to the other two.
“At first we weren’t sure,” Wang Zheng says.
“Very small changes,” Sang Zan agrees.
“But we waited, and when we called you—when I talked to Da Qing—his breathing was much faster than usual.”
“Ten breaths for one minute,” Sang Zan says.
They both sound at once excited and anxious. Zhao Yunlan leans over next to Wang Zheng, studying Ye Zun’s face. Still sleeping, but not deeply. He can see Ye Zun's eyes moving restlessly under the closed eyelids. “Has he been doing this for long?” Zhao Yunlan indicates the motion to Wang Zheng. She leans closer, peers at Ye Zun.
“Oh! No. No, he was just—”
Ye Zun’s long eyelashes flutter, and Zhao Yunlan makes the call. “Okay, everyone back off.”
Wang Zheng draws her eyebrows into a frown, and her mouth takes on a stubborn set. Zhao Yunlan shakes his head, and lowers his voice. “You didn’t see what he was like, before. We can’t crowd him. If you want to help him…” Zhao Yunlan trails off, seeing Wang Zheng’s nod, and Sang Zan’s hand on her elbow.
They do. They do want to help Ye Zun—as the SID helped Wang Zheng, and Wang Zheng helped Sang Zan, and nobody has been around to help Ye Zun since he was taken.
“We wait where?” Sang Zan asks.
“Downstairs,” Zhao Yunlan says at once. “Make sure to let everyone know what’s going on.” It would be better if they could keep everyone away, but the SID is far too busy for them to take a whole day off.
“Yes, Chief Zhao,” Wang Zheng says, and he listens to the inhuman lightness of their footsteps as they make their way downstairs.
It’s not even five in the morning. Zhao Yunlan can hear the early city traffic beginning to trickle through from the streets outside. A hint of dawn light shines through the glass of the curved window behind Ye Zun’s bed. The small desk lamp is on, but they are at the edge of its cone of light here. Still, it’s enough to see the motion of Ye Zun's chest rising and falling by. He looks like a normal human sleeper, now. Zhao Yunlan catches another brief trembling of lashes.
Zhao Yunlan takes a deep breath, sparing a moment to close his own eyes and wish Shen Wei were here. Then he sits down in the spot Wang Zheng vacated—feet on the floor in case he needs to move quickly, far enough away that his body doesn’t nudge Ye Zun under the covers—and waits to welcome his little brother-in-law to the land of the waking.
Though which Ye Zun will it be? He is someone who makes Shen Wei seem as unsecretive and unchangeable as a rock. Shen Wei, who wears the mask of professor and Envoy and shows Zhao Yunlan those parts of himself nobody else has ever gotten to see—despite all of that, he’s always Shen Wei. Ye Zun, though, who went from stolen child to tyrant? Zhao Yunlan remembers how quickly the man who gave grand speeches to all of Dixing transformed to someone so cowed he flinched at a raised voice.
Is it possible that Ye Zun got more than simply powers from those he absorbed? Has he been collecting bits and pieces of other lives—other impulses and desires—for all these years? There is no one else like Ye Zun, so not even Shen Wei would know the true answer to that question. Maybe not even Ye Zun himself does.
A sound draws Zhao Yunlan’s attention. Someone has come through the SID's front door. Soft footsteps, low voices—Zhu Hong, come early despite the morning chill, to put a few hours in for the SID before going to deal with pressing Yashou business. He should find some way of giving her more of a break, but—
When Zhao Yunlan turns back to the bed, Ye Zun’s eyes are open.