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Chapter Text

Lord Black-Cloaked Envoy was waiting in the meeting place when Chu Shuzhi arrived. It was two hours past dawn, but Zhao Yunlan had been in such a bad mood after the culminating tragedy of the face-stealer case that Chu Shuzhi’s turning up late for work at the SID wouldn’t make much difference, if it was even noticed by anyone besides the intern.

The Envoy was facing away. Chu Shuzhi shrugged off lingering torpor from the previous night’s poisonous gas attack and approached with the best approximation of a firm, respectful stride he could muster. The air was cool, the sky hazy with high cloud. He ignored the goosepimples that stippled his arms and stopped a few metres short. “Lord Envoy, for what purpose did you summon me here?”

The Envoy replied without turning. “Do you also feel that I am unreasonable?”

Chu Shuzhi paused. What did he mean by also? Ah, he must be referring to Zhao Yunlan, whose display of frustration last night had been deeply disrespectful. Did Lord Envoy think that Chu Shuzhi’s time at the SID had swayed his allegiance, that he would take the part of his nominal boss against Lord Black-Cloaked Envoy himself?

“I wouldn’t dare.” Chu Shuzhi instinctively lowered his gaze, his pulse heavy at the base of his throat. Why would Lord Envoy care about his opinion anyway? There had been a strange note in his voice, perhaps disapproval. Perhaps he really did think Chu Shuzhi’s loyalty so fickle. That made Chu Shuzhi’s chest ache, but he kept his voice firm. “Of course I know you must have your reasons.”

Still facing away, the Envoy raised his arm to the side. Chu Shuzhi, his wits dulled by the gas attack, didn’t understand. Then daylight pierced large ragged holes in the sleeve of the Envoy’s robe, right near his armpit. Holes in the body of his robes, too. Dark stains glistening on the black fabric. Was that blood?

Chu Shuzhi strove to hide his alarm. “Sir, are you all right? What kind of power could harm you?”

“Lin Yusen’s body was laced with dark energy.” There was a disturbing rasp to Lord Envoy’s words now. “Someone used his revenge for their own ends and turned him into a Molotov cocktail.”

“But he was a normal human being.” A mere human couldn’t possibly hurt the Envoy. Chu Shuzhi wished Lord Envoy would turn so he could see his face and gauge his health.

“Human energy and dark energy are naturally incompatible. It’s likely someone infused Lin Yusen with dark energy without his knowing. It ran afoul in his body like a disease that spreads to the bones. Even dead, the bomb was dangerous.”

“No wonder you insisted on taking him away.” Chu Shuzhi had known there must be logic behind the move.

“Zhao Yunlan’s emotions run deep. If he knew that Lin Yusen had been used in this way, violated even in death—” The Envoy half-turned towards Chu Shuzhi, though his face remained shadowed by his hood. “There’s no need to reveal any of this to other people. I only called you here today to remind you to be on your guard.”

There was no mistaking the dismissal, and the Black-Cloaked Envoy was famously powerful and proud. Whether that wet patch on his robes was sign of a wound or not, there was nothing Lord Envoy’s servant could do for him that he couldn’t do for himself, and Lord Envoy wouldn’t thank him for doubting that.

Reluctantly, Chu Shuzhi took three steps backwards and turned to leave.

He’d only gone a few paces when, from behind him, came a wet choking cough. He spun back. The Envoy was holding his hand in front of him, fingers stained a vivid red. There was red on his lips, too.

“Lord Envoy, you’re hurt,” Chu Shuzhi exclaimed, forgetting to hold his tongue. The Envoy’s breathing was wrong, audible even at this distance—shallow and harsh. As he angled away from Chu Shuzhi to conceal his weakness, he seemed to lose his footing on the paved ground. Chu Shuzhi winced on Lord Envoy’s behalf, but otherwise kept a tight rein on his horror. “Why haven’t you healed yourself?”

“I’m all right.” The Envoy’s lips were pale, but his authority was undiminished. “There’s no need to concern yoursel—ah—” He gasped and gripped his side, stiffening.

Chu Shuzhi hastened to offer support, though even now he hesitated before laying hands on him, because this was the great Black-Cloaked Envoy, the history of Dixing incarnate and his own benefactor and saviour. But Lord Envoy was in need. Chu Shuzhi caught his arm high, where the robes were intact, and alarmingly, the Envoy leaned into his hold. He was hot—feverish?—and a persistent tremor was running through him. Chu Shuzhi had to do something. They were in Haixing, in an age of advanced medicine and scientific healing. There were hospitals, IVs, surgeries—

—none of which were designed with Dixing physiology in mind. But the Black-Cloaked Envoy’s healing powers were sometimes referenced in songs about the ancient war. Surely that wasn’t mere embellishment.

The Envoy swallowed, inhaled and swallowed again. The tremor was worsening, either from the wounds themselves or the effort he was making to stay upright and composed. How much energy had he expended to come here and warn Chu Shuzhi, when he could have stayed safe in Dixing?

“The barrier I raised around the explosion last night created a pressurised sphere.” The Envoy bent over to cough again, spattering the flagstones at their feet with blood. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and continued doggedly, “Lin Yusen’s body must have been contaminated with Zhang Danni’s poisonous gas, as well as the dark energy he was already carrying. When I dealt with his remains, the concentrated gas pierced my skin, and it’s—it appears to be interfering with my ability—to exercise my powers.”

The silence was broken only by the sounds of leaves rustling and bird calls in the trees. Chu Shuzhi was too appalled to speak, remembering the night before, the infuriating helplessness that had overtaken him, his body burning and energy unresponsive from just a small dose of the gas. With the poison in his flesh, Lord Envoy must be suffering terribly. It took Chu Shuzhi a moment to unclench his jaw. “Will it wear off?”

“I will heal. I just need time.” The Envoy grabbed Chu Shuzhi’s arm, squeezing painfully tight. “In the meantime, I don’t want anyone else involved.”

He was right. If it became known, it would invite great danger. “Can you walk? I’ll take you somewhere you can rest, Lord Envoy.”

The Envoy made an effort to draw himself up, leveraging his grip on Chu Shuzhi’s arm, but he couldn’t take his own weight. His lips were grey beneath the bright smears of blood. There were no seats nearby, not even a rock or a fallen log. Chu Shuzhi lowered the Envoy to the ground.

To his dismay, the Envoy didn’t demur. He folded to one knee and fell sideways in an ungainly slump so he was sitting on the flagstones, propped up on one arm. Chu Shuzhi’s heart sank into his feet. But this was no time to hold back in the guise of respect, or out of reluctance to return to his homeland.

“Lord Envoy, you need medical attention. I’ll take you to Dixing. The palace must have healers who can help you.”

The Envoy’s gaze found his, lucid and stubborn through the eyeholes of the mask. “No one can find out, especially not at the palace.”

“Then the SID—”

“No!” Despite the Envoy’s debility, he did not yield. “Promise me.”

Chu Shuzhi stared, dismayed. True, Lord Envoy had to protect his reputation and position, but if he was weakened enough to require such a promise, they had to do something, go somewhere. Did he mistrust the SID so greatly? Why? Zhao Yunlan was a disrespectful bastard, but he wasn’t without honour. He wouldn’t hold an indisposition over the Envoy’s head. Perhaps Lord Envoy didn’t know that. They’d only recently become acquainted—perhaps Lord Envoy thought Zhao Yunlan would report the news to the Department of Supervision or the Xingdu Bureau. Perhaps he would.

Right now, that was academic. There was only one answer Chu Shuzhi could give to his benefactor’s demand. “Of course, sir. I promise. But—is there no one?”

The Envoy pressed his cupped hand to the front of his robes, trying to suppress his tremors. He seemed weaker by the second. “Soon the gas will dissipate, and I’ll be able to heal,” he rasped. “I just need to rest a little while.”

Of course there wasn’t anyone. The Envoy had no equal, no peers. The Regent was a slimy toad, and the Haixing authorities must not know. In point of fact, the Envoy had always been a solitary figure, and Chu Shuzhi had, at times, taken a measure of consolation from that while enduring his own lonely life in Haixing. Holding oneself apart must be the mark of a hero if that was how the Black-Cloaked Envoy lived. Now his consolation turned to guilt and self-reproach. The Envoy had dedicated himself to Dixing and, in return, should have all the support possible. At the very least, he should have somewhere to turn when he needed aid.

“I hope—” The Envoy’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “No. I know I can count on you, Chu Shuzhi.”

And with that he closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Chu Shuzhi held his hero in his arms and tried to order his thoughts. He wanted to take Lord Envoy at his word that a short rest would be sufficient to, if not fully recover, at least rally and come up with a plan. He should trust him. But Lord Envoy wasn’t used to being hurt and might not be able to gauge these things accurately. What if his weakness lasted more than a day or—Chu Shuzhi’s throat closed—or two? Then Chu Shuzhi would have to choose between cleaving to his promise or convincing Lord Envoy to receive proper treatment, and Lord Envoy was not known for his susceptibility to persuasion. And in the meantime, while it was true they’d never yet been interrupted in their meetings here in the park, that might be thanks to one of Lord Envoy’s powers, which could no longer be relied upon.

If he didn’t recover soon, Chu Shuzhi would have to take him somewhere private, where he would be safe while he rested.

Chu Shuzhi tried to reassure himself: the worst of the effects of Zhang Danni’s gas had worn off quickly for him last night, leaving him only tired and dull-witted with an incipient headache. Not much worse than a regular hangover. But the concentrated gas embedded in the Envoy’s body was a different matter, and it was doing such obvious harm that Chu Shuzhi’s own experience was small comfort.

He turned on his phone long enough to message Wang Zheng that he’d be late to work, then switched it off again without reading the texts that buzzed at him. Those were the least of his problems right now. And he settled in to wait, hoping from minute to minute that Lord Envoy would stir and open his eyes.

He didn’t, and Chu Shuzhi nearly dozed off himself. After a while, he forced his eyes open and considered their options. It was well past nine o’clock, and they couldn’t sit here on the ground for much longer. Chu Shuzhi had to make the Envoy comfortable so he could heal, and Chu Shuzhi himself had a cramp in his leg. But with Lord Envoy having vetoed all other options, the only place left to go was Chu Shuzhi’s flat, on the other side of town. Chu Shuzhi pushed aside sickening embarrassment at the prospect.

“Hei Pao Daren.” He shook the Envoy, gently at first and then with more urgency. The hood fell back to reveal long hair, braided at the front. “Daren, please wake. Can you walk a short way?”

The Envoy’s eyelids flickered, but he did not reply. His head lolled to the side, baring his neck, giving him a delicate, elegant appearance at odds with his stern strength. Chu Shuzhi went cold. In the time they’d been sitting here, unbeknownst to him, the Envoy had slipped from consciousness entirely. He swallowed down a terrible dread. It was up to him now. Lord Envoy was counting on him. He resituated Lord Envoy’s hood and arranged his robes to cover him.

It had been nearly an hour, and the Envoy was worse, not better. And with him out cold, the danger of staying here and the value of going somewhere warm and safe were both increased. So—Chu Shuzhi’s flat it was. But how to get there?

He could not piggyback the unconscious Envoy of Dixing through the streets of Dragon City. That would be neither dignified nor discreet. They’d have to take a taxi, and for that, the Envoy would require a disguise. There was no way around it—despite his pledge, Chu Shuzhi needed help. And he didn’t know anyone outside the SID, there was no one else to ask. And he’d promised the Envoy he wouldn’t involve them.

Xiao Guo, at Wang Zheng’s insistence, had recently completed a first aid course. Xiao Guo counted as a member of the SID, of course he did, which meant Chu Shuzhi absolutely could not ask him. But Xiao Guo wasn’t Zhao Yunlan—he’d do as Chu Shuzhi told him.

Chu Shuzhi had no idea if that would make a difference to Lord Envoy. He tried again to rouse him. “Daren!”

Lord Envoy’s breath came faster and he muttered inaudibly, but he didn’t wake. It was far worse than a peaceful sleep: he was feverish, and as the morning’s high cloud burned away, the day was growing steadily hotter.

So, then, Chu Shuzhi was going to break his promise. Lord Envoy could not have known when he secured the pledge how desperate the situation would become. Chu Shuzhi was doing it for his sake. Nonetheless, it was a betrayal, and Chu Shuzhi would have to face whatever consequences followed, if it cost him his life. Worse, if it cost him the Envoy’s good regard.

He had to do it. He had to save his benefactor.

He turned on his phone again and found Xiao Guo’s number, braced himself for the deluge of inane questions that were about to slosh over him, and made the call.

“Chu-ge! Where are you? Wang Zheng-jie is looking for you.”

From the ambient noise at the other end—the clatter of keyboards, and a background exchange between Whang Zheng and Zhu Hong—he was in the main room of the SID. Chu Shuzhi closed his eyes. “Go somewhere you can be alone while you talk to me. I’ll wait.”

“Oh, I—wh-where should I—”

“Just do it.” Chu Shuzhi tried to convey the urgency of the situation without spelling it out. If he did, there was every chance Xiao Guo would repeat the information aloud, where anyone could hear.

The sound of footsteps, and the background noise changed. Chu Shuzhi didn’t have to ask to know that Xiao Guo had gone upstairs to the library. Fine, no one ever went there during the day.

“What did you want to tell me, Chu-ge?” Xiao Guo sounded breathless and hopeful.

Chu Shuzhi didn’t have time to deal with the kid’s feelings. “Get my raincoat from the coat rack and my sunglasses from the top drawer of my desk and bring them to me now. Without telling anyone. And bring your first aid kit, too.”

“It—it isn’t raining. Why— Chu-ge, are you hurt? What happened?”

“Without asking any questions.”

“Then—”

Chu Shuzhi could practically hear him wanting to ask why he’d had to go up to the library, if that was all it was. He didn’t understand anything about stealth. “Do what I say,” said Chu Shuzhi, firmly. “If anyone asks where you’re going, what will you tell them?”

“I’ll say—” Xiao Guo trailed off as he failed to come up with a convincing cover story.

Chu Shuzhi swallowed a sigh. “You can say you’re meeting me. Just don’t say where or why.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll text you directions. Hurry!” He hung up and sent his location, glad the Envoy hadn’t been awake to witness that. “I’m not involving the SID,” he said, aloud, though really he was talking to himself. “Xiao Guo won’t say anything to anyone. And I can’t take you in a taxi in your cloak, Lord Envoy.”

The Envoy was still feverish, but his hands were cold. How badly was he hurt? Chu Shuzhi should peel back the robes to ascertain the extent of his wounds, but he couldn’t, not here. Exposing the Envoy in public, even a little bit, would be sacrilegious, especially in broad daylight. Anyone might come across them. And Lord Envoy had said he would heal, given time. Chu Shuzhi compromised by feeling through the fabric as well as he could.

There was a small hard lump over Lord Envoy’s collarbone, too mobile to be an injury. If he’d been upright, it would have lain where Lord Envoy’s hand had gone when Chu Shuzhi asked if there wasn’t anyone else he could turn to. It must be a memento of some kind. Chu Shuzhi left it undisturbed and continued his assessment.

The Envoy felt like a normal man, strong but not bulky. There were places on his torso where Chu Shuzhi’s fingers tingled from the gas, but cautious probing didn’t elicit any reaction from the unconscious Envoy, and there were no outpourings of blood. The damp patches on the robes were already starting to dry, and the smears on Chu Shuzhi’s hands were dark. No need to staunch the wounds, then, and any further intervention could wait until they were safely indoors. Where was Xiao Guo?

Chu Shuzhi sat back on his heels. Carrying Lord Envoy to a taxi would be easy enough, once the disguise arrived, but if he didn’t wake and Xiao Guo’s first aid kit proved inadequate, Chu Shuzhi would have to seek out medicine—somewhere, somehow—and leaving the Envoy alone in his vulnerable state was risky. Too risky, given recent Dixing activity and whoever had turned Lin Yusen into a bomb. Chu Shuzhi would need someone to keep watch. Someone to call him back if the Envoy’s condition worsened or danger arrived.

The decision was already made before he admitted it to himself—he was going to rope Xiao Guo into helping out. It was a further breach of his promise, but there was no way around that. It was purely a practical decision, nothing to do with his own worry and uncertainty. Xiao Guo wasn’t good for much, but he had heart and determination. He wouldn’t just squeak and hide in the face of danger. Chu Shuzhi could depend on him.

But if he was going to involve Xiao Guo, he had to disguise Lord Envoy as an ordinary man to protect his identity. Not a regular Haixingren, or Xiao Guo would question why they weren’t rushing him to the hospital, but a regular Dixingren. Here on a visit. Chu Shuzhi could say he was a friend, a teacher. That something had happened, and his energy was blocked. It wasn’t far from the truth.

Would Xiao Guo accept that story? He was naïve, but he wasn’t bigoted. He’d spoken up about the Envoy taking the Shadow Man away, and he treated Chu Shuzhi himself with respect. Called him ge. If Chu Shuzhi handled it right, he was pretty sure he could order the kid to keep his mouth shut and not blab to anyone at the SID.

But the odds of Xiao Guo staying quiet would plummet if he learned that the sick friend was actually the Black-Cloaked Envoy. So, ironically, to hide the Envoy’s identity, Chu Shuzhi had to remove his mask. His breath stilled at the thought, and he clenched his hands in the robes. Would the Envoy ever forgive such presumption? And what would he look like? Could his appearance possibly be that of an ordinary man, or would he be scarred from battle? Apart from the smear of blood on his lips, his mouth and chin didn’t betray any sign of injury or age.

Chu Shuzhi had no choice. He hardened his resolve, raised his hand—then lowered it again. “Lord Envoy!” he hissed. “Lord Envoy!”

The Envoy’s eyelids fluttered. He groaned. Was he conscious?

“Lord Envoy, your pardon, I had to call Xiao Guo to come and help. He’ll be discreet, I swear. But I have to take off your mask so he won’t know you.”

There was only laboured breathing. Had the Envoy heard? Had he understood? Was his silence disapprobation? He was shivering. Then his lips parted, and he whispered, so faintly Chu Shuzhi had to bend down to hear, “Do—what—you must.”

That was permission. Chu Shuzhi just had to do it. No point worrying. No point averting his gaze. He brushed some of the hair braids aside, gritted his teeth, reached—

The mask was cool to the touch, and heavy, though it was only leather. It came away easily in his hands, revealing pale, sweat-damp skin—a familiar—

Professor Shen! Chu Shuzhi’s mind went blank at the familiar face, last seen in the SID’s interview room, now lying here unconscious, without glasses, with long hair, but unmistakeable. The ground tilted, and he had to put out a hand—the hand with the mask—to steady himself. Then reason rushed back in. That was impossible. The Envoy was not a Haixing university professor! He was one of the three leaders of Dixing, the most ancient and noble of them. But the resemblance was startling. The professor and the Envoy—they must be relatives. Shen Wei must be from Dixing. Zhao Yunlan already suspected as much. And of course, that would be reason enough for the Envoy to keep his appearance hidden. To protect his family. His—descendant? And it would explain the professor’s self-possession in the face of the SID’s interrogation, and his knowledge of Dixing. Here they were, so alike they were practically twins. Two identical faces, two very different minds—the dangerous and the kind. Chu Shuzhi knew all about that.

But if they were related, why hadn’t the Envoy said so, given the dire circumstances he was in? Surely he’d have told Chu Shuzhi to consult the professor, to hand him into his care. The Envoy had implied with his silence that he had no one—no one but Chu Shuzhi. Could they be estranged? Or were they—were they really one and the same?

Chu Shuzhi’s palms were sweaty. He took out his phone, ignored the new text messages from Wang Zheng, and called the university without the least idea what he was going to say.

“Professor Shen is unavailable,” said a harried biology department administrator. “May I take a message?”

“Is he in a lecture?” Chu Shuzhi had to be sure.

“The professor is—away sick.” The pause was almost imperceptible, but its significance rang loud in Chu Shuzhi’s ear. The professor was AWOL.

He stared at the Envoy in his arms, dazed and incredulous but unable to deny the reality— that the Envoy was Professor Shen, and Professor Shen was the Black-Cloaked Envoy.

“Hello?” said the administrator. “Did you want to leave a message? Hello?”

Chu Shuzhi hung up, switched off his phone with numb fingers and tucked it away automatically.

A Black-Cloaked Envoy who lived in Haixing, worked at a Haixing university, taught Haixing kids, did Haixing science. Who had taunted Chu Shuzhi under interrogation—

The interrogation. Chu Shuzhi reconsidered it through the lens of this revelation: the Envoy sitting there in his Haixing finery, proud, coolly determined, authoritative. Chu Shuzhi had remarked on the likeness himself, and Professor Shen had just smiled and passed on the challenge to Zhao Yunlan. Had deliberately reached for Chu Shuzhi’s doll, knowing it was a provocative move—

Chu Shuzhi’s mind reeled.

It was one thing to know your hero was mysterious, existing in a cloud of smoke and secrets, but this was another thing entirely. The Lord Envoy, Professor Shen had lied to Chu Shuzhi’s face and allowed him to treat him with contempt.

What would Zhao Yunlan say if he knew? Zhao Yunlan who was already suspicious of the professor, as well as suspiciously invested.

Chu Shuzhi shook his head. With every passing second it seemed more true and more strange.

It shouldn’t matter. He was still Chu Shuzhi’s benefactor. Still the Envoy. Chu Shuzhi looked up at the trees and blinked away tears. “Lord Envoy, I didn’t mean to learn your secret.”

There was no answer. The Envoy had slipped from consciousness again. Through the fog of shock, Chu Shuzhi forced himself to think. Lord Envoy’s rule, his very existence was necessary for peace in both worlds. It was not Chu Shuzhi’s place to question him or his decisions. He had to help, to protect him while he was vulnerable and ill. Everything else could wait.

How long had they been sitting here like this? Xiao Guo was on his way, and he must not see. Chu Shuzhi unwound his own scarf and arranged it loosely around the Envoy’s neck and face, hiding everything but his eyes.

Then he set to work removing the Envoy’s distinctive accoutrements—the wrist guards and the belt, and so on. The cloak. The Envoy’s left wrist bore the faintest of marks where the professor’s watch usually sat. There was nothing to be done about his long hair and old-fashioned braids. Chu Shuzhi would have to bluff.

He bundled up the accessories and mask and surveyed the Envoy. His clothes weren’t very different from Chu Shuzhi’s. The discrepancies could be explained away as Dixing fashion—but they might still link him to the Envoy in Xiao Guo’s mind. Maybe it would be better to replace the mask, work him back into his cloak and present him as the Envoy after all. Was it more important to keep the Envoy’s indisposition a secret or his identity?

Neither. The most important thing was to ensure he recovered his health, and jostling him in and out of clothing risked aggravating his injuries. Chu Shuzhi would just have to do the best he could.

He was refolding the bundle to conceal the embroidered hood, when Xiao Guo arrived at the edge of the clearing. “Chu-ge, I’m here!”

Chu Shuzhi turned without getting up, shielding the Envoy with his body. “Did you bring them?”

Xiao Guo grinned and held up the black bundle of Chu Shuzhi’s raincoat. In addition to the requested items, he was wearing a large shapeless black hat, which came down almost to his eyes, and he looked absurd. Chu Shuzhi’s resolve was shaken again. He couldn’t allow the Envoy to look foolish. Perhaps it would be inappropriate to dress him up in plain clothes after all. But he had more immediate concerns: Xiao Guo’s smile was fading as he looked past Chu Shuzhi. “What’s wrong with your friend? Is he all right? Oh! Chu-ge, did you h-hurt someone?”

Chu Shuzhi refrained from rolling his eyes. “I didn’t do it! He’s my teacher, visiting from Dixing, and he was injured in an accident. He just needs to rest. We’re taking him back to my place.”

“Your place?” Xiao Guo blinked as if it had never occurred to him that Chu Shuzhi must live somewhere.

Chu Shuzhi ignored that and eyed him severely. “Don’t look at his face.”

Surprisingly, Xiao Guo didn’t ask any more questions. He just blushed and averted his gaze to Lord Envoy’s feet and the hem of his trousers. “Oh, that embroidery looks like Hei Pao Shi’s.”

“It’s the fashion,” said Chu Shuzhi quickly. “Stop gawking at him, and help me!”

The order rendered Xiao Guo unusually subdued, though there was no way to tell if he was scared by the presence of this unknown Dixingren, or merely abashed at having earned a scolding. He helped Chu Shuzhi ease the Envoy’s arms into the coat and tuck his hair away. He even wrapped the scarf more securely when it started to slip. When they were finished, Chu Shuzhi slid the sunglasses on the Envoy’s face and topped it off with the ridiculous hat.

The Envoy certainly didn’t look like the Envoy anymore, but he didn’t look ordinary either, bundled up with barely any skin showing on such a warm day. Xiao Guo glanced towards him, then hastily averted his gaze to the trees. “How will we move him? Shall I carry him on my back?”

Chu Shuzhi scowled. If anyone was going to carry Lord Envoy, it should be him.

“Oh! Or could you—” Xiao Guo gripped the strap of his shoulder bag with both hands, still looking away. “Chu-ge, sorry if it’s rude, but isn’t your Dixing p-power being a puppet master? If we need to move him without anyone knowing, c-couldn’t you do that?”

The suggestion was even more shocking than the revelation of the Envoy’s dual identities. The puppet strings could be used to throw someone, or quickly drag them in one direction or another, but they couldn’t animate a person. Chu Shuzhi’s great-great-grandfather had accidentally killed his youngest son that way, trying to save him from a housefire. Chu Shuzhi would not risk the Envoy’s life. Their straits were not so desperate. “People aren’t puppets. We just need to get him to a taxi. I’ll carry him.”

He hefted the Envoy onto his back, and Xiao Guo picked up the black bundle at their feet without having to be told. The road was only a few minutes’ walk away. This would be fine.

Or it would have been, if Xiao Guo’s phone hadn’t rung, causing him to startle and lose his grip on the bundle he was carrying. He grabbed at it with one hand while hastily answering the phone with the other, and his fingers caught in the fabric but didn’t stop its fall. The loose knot of the bundle came undone as it hit the paving stones, and the Envoy’s effects spilled out at their feet.

Chapter Text

At first, Xiao Guo didn’t seem to realise what had happened. “Wang Zheng-jie?” he said into the phone, bright and innocent.

Chu Shuzhi tried to herd him away, to intervene before he saw, but it was too late. Xiao Guo stopped dead as his gaze fell on the wrist guards and, worse, the mask. He let out a yelp, and his eyes widened comically. “Oh.”

The lurch in Chu Shuzhi’s gut spoke of disaster, a broken pledge and maybe worse, since he didn’t know Lord Envoy’s reason for not wanting to involve the SID. But it was too late, there was no way to explain away the body on his back, nor to make Xiao Guo unsee what he was seeing. So he shoved his dismay down and switched into damage control mode, stooping to balance the Envoy so he could free one hand to snatch Xiao Guo’s cell phone out of Xiao Guo’s loose, confused grasp.

“He’ll call you back,” Chu Shuzhi told Wang Zheng and, without waiting for a reply, hung up. It was tempting to throw the damn phone into the bushes, but then Zhao Yunlan would make one or other of them pay for its replacement. Chu Shuzhi shoved it into his pocket with his own and caught the Envoy’s leg before he unbalanced and fell off Chu Shuzhi’s back.

Xiao Guo was backing away, his eyes screwed shut. “I didn’t see anything!”

If only! Chu Shuzhi snorted and resumed walking, ignoring the hollowed out feeling in his stomach. A text notification buzzed in his pocket. After a moment, Xiao Guo caught up. Chu Shuzhi glanced sideways to make sure he had the bundle. “Did you get it all?”

Xiao Guo ducked his head in a nod. “Chu-ge, is-is it really him?”

The question made guilt rise up like bile in Chu Shuzhi’s throat. “Quiet.”

They rounded a stand of trees and exited the park through a pedestrian gate, more discreet than the wide arched entrance to the south of here. A phone rang in Chu Shuzhi’s pocket—it must be Xiao Guo’s, since Chu Shuzhi had turned his off after calling the university. He let it go to voicemail. They’d deal with the SID later. For now, he focused on the lax weight of the Envoy on his back, still breathing thank the stars, while Xiao Guo hailed a taxi.

Xiao Guo helped get the Envoy into the back seat, grabbing the hat when it fell on the footpath and replacing it without saying anything. It was more discretion than Chu Shuzhi expected from the kid, and he was grudgingly grateful for it.

Chu Shuzhi climbed in next to the Envoy, and Guo Changcheng followed.

The taxi driver, an older man with a tired, pinched face, eyed them in the rear view mirror. “Your friend isn’t drunk, is he? If he throws up in my taxi, you’ll have to pay for cleaning.”

Indignation rose up like the roar of a fire, but before Chu Shuzhi could demand the man show respect, Xiao Guo put a calming hand on his arm and told the driver, “He’s not drunk. We’ll be careful. Thank you, sir.”

The driver let out an unconvinced grunt but dropped the subject, and Chu Shuzhi bit back an insult, aware that his anger was really at himself, fed by his roiling uneasiness. Why had he called Xiao Guo? He should have handled this alone and kept Lord Envoy’s predicament private.

“Where to?” prompted the driver, interrupting this internal tirade.

Chu Shuzhi gave his address, just as Xiao Guo’s phone rang again. Chu Shuzhi took it out of his pocket and answered. “What?”

“Lao Chu, where are you?” said Wang Zheng in his ear. “Why is your phone off? There’s a missing person case, and Chief Zhao wants you and Xiao Guo to report in.”

“He’ll have to handle it,” said Chu Shuzhi. “I’m sick. I can’t come to work today.”

Wang Zheng lowered her voice. “Are you protesting because Chief Zhao was rude to Hei Pao Shi last night? I heard he—”

“No,” growled Chu Shuzhi. “I’m just sick. Ask Xiao Guo.”

He handed over the phone with a meaningful look, which Xiao Guo must have interpreted as a glare, because he visibly quailed. “Sorry, Wang Zheng-jie, it’s true. Chu-ge’s still sick from the poisonous gas last night.”

Chu Shuzhi rolled his eyes, but mostly for show. Xiao Guo’s excuse was more accurate than he cared to admit. He felt like shit, and the problems caused by the gas were a large part of the reason why.

“Yes. Yes, okay.” Xiao Guo darted a glance at Chu Shuzhi. “I-I’ll tell him.” He hung up and gave the phone back. “Wang Zheng says Chief Zhao is looking for us, and he’s, uh, in a bad mood.”

Chu Shuzhi shoved the phone into his pocket with his own and hmphed. Zhao Yunlan wasn’t the only one. “He’ll have to wait.”

“Chu-ge?” Xiao Guo fidgeted with the strap of his bag.

Chu Shuzhi didn’t answer, not wanting to encourage him or his questions. Troubled by the new case. Lives might be in danger while they sat here. It was his duty to help protect the people of Haixing. That was what Lord Envoy had brought him here to do. But what choice did he have? First and foremost, he had to guard Lord Envoy—nothing was more important than that! The SID would just have to handle the case without him. At least he was sparing them the trouble of babysitting Xiao Guo while they did so.

The taxi turned into Chu Shuzhi’s neighbourhood, the tall, rust-stained tenement buildings looming on either side, their facades cluttered with balconies wreathed in laundry.

Xiao Guo cleared his throat, his curiosity having apparently exceeded his timidity. “Ch-chu-ge, what kind of relationship is it?”

He was staring at the back of the passenger seat now, and Chu Shuzhi had no idea what he was talking about. “What relationship?”

“You. With—with your, uh, friend.” He gestured past Chu Shuzhi at the Envoy, who was slumped in the corner of the back seat, his forehead bumping lightly against the passenger door with the movement of the car. His face, obscured by the scarf and sunglasses, was partly turned towards the window, too, and his breath made faint halos of condensation on the glass. Too faint.

With Chu Shuzhi’s coat covering his robes and a scarf in place of his mask, he looked like an oddly bundled-up Haixingren. That was bad enough—and Chu Shuzhi was the one who’d imposed such an unworthy disguise on him—but now Xiao Guo was asking about their relationship as if it were gossip fodder.

Xiao Guo had seen the mask. He was hen-witted, certainly, but he must have guessed the situation, that Chu Shuzhi had been reporting to the Envoy when the difficulty occurred.

“It’s none of your business,” snapped Chu Shuzhi, his guilt spiking as he said it. Xiao Guo was helping. It wasn’t his fault Chu Shuzhi had fucked everything up.

But Xiao Guo ducked his head as if the rebuke was an answer in itself.

Heaven only knew what he thought was going on. There was no way to ask without pointing out in no uncertain terms that the person seated with them in the back of this humble Haixing taxi was the Black-Cloaked Envoy himself.

And then it was too late. The taxi pulled over to the curb. They’d reached Chu Shuzhi’s house.

Chapter Text

It was strange admitting other people into his living quarters, even if one of them was out cold. Lord Envoy had been to his old place, once, three years ago, when he’d first brought Chu Shuzhi to Haixing. Had, in fact, chosen the old place, which had been clean, respectable and far beyond Chu Shuzhi’s needs. Chu Shuzhi had moved out after six months and a lot of wrestling with his conscience. He didn’t need or want anything spacious. He didn’t want to get comfortable—it would only lead to letting his guard down.

But he hadn’t anticipated having anyone over, and Xiao Guo’s expression as he scanned the small third-storey room and tried to disguise his dismay was infuriating. So what if the floorboards were bare, the walls stained, and the outlook showed only the bleak concrete building across the street? Of course a Haixingren would think that material possessions mattered, that they reflected the worth of a person.

All the same, it was just as well Lord Envoy was unconscious. If he knew Chu Shuzhi had moved house, he would wonder why, and Chu Shuzhi didn’t want to appear ungrateful.

“Lend a hand,” he said curtly.

Between Xiao Guo and himself, they took the hat from Lord Envoy’s head, eased him out of the coat and lowered him to the hard narrow bed in the corner without dislodging the scarf or sunglasses or impairing Lord Envoy’s dignity any further. He was still unconscious, and his forehead was clammy.

“Get some water,” Chu Shuzhi told Xiao Guo. “There’s a tap at the end of the hallway.”

Xiao Guo found the pitcher on the shelf next to Chu Shuzhi’s bowl and chopsticks and disappeared into the hallway, leaving the door open.

Chu Shuzhi vented his exasperation in a loud sigh and closed it after him, then squared his shoulders and went to check Lord Envoy’s wounds. He divested Lord Envoy of the sunglasses, then the scarf as gently as he could, till he was laid out on his back, on top of the bedding, his hair spilling around his head in an inky tangle. It was too exposed, especially with Xiao Guo due back any second. Perhaps he should hang a sheet across the room as a curtain, or—

The heavy old wardrobe looming in the corner was free-standing; it had come with the room, like all the other furnishings, and he’d never paid it much attention beyond storing his clothes there. Now it could be of real use. He locked the wardrobe doors to prevent them falling open, then used his energy cords to move it and lower it onto its side, partitioning off the bed from the rest of the room. It turned the space into more of a cramped U-shaped corridor than a chamber, but it was worth it for the additional privacy.

Xiao Guo had put the bundle of Lord Envoy’s things under the airing rack on the floor by the window, along with his first aid kit. Chu Shuzhi fetched them now and hesitated. Lord Envoy would probably be more comfortable without the mask, but given Xiao Guo had already discovered the unconscious man was the Envoy, he must not under any circumstances be allowed to recognise him as Professor Shen. It would be safest to confirm the one broken secret to preserve the other.

None of the disruption—the arrival at Chu Shuzhi’s place, the removal of the coat, or the placement of the wardrobe—had elicited so much as a groan from Lord Envoy. His skin was still fever-hot, and his face damp with sweat. It wasn’t an ideal time to have to wear a face covering of any kind, but Lord Envoy had been adamant about the need to preserve his privacy. And they were safe here. Lord Envoy could take all the time he needed to heal. Chu Shuzhi used the discarded scarf to wipe Lord Envoy’s face and, with due reverence, replaced the mask. It must have been imbued with a Dixing power, because it settled firmly into place as if it were part of his skin.

Chu Shuzhi gingerly folded back the underclothes, uncovering Lord Envoy as little as possible. They hadn’t left any bloodstains on the taxi seat—Chu Shuzhi had checked—but the Envoy was obviously suffering from the embedded gas, faint tremors still running through his muscles, and Chu Shuzhi was afraid of what he might find. Rightly afraid, as it turned out. There was a scattering of small, dark red burn blisters on his arm and across his torso. In places, the cloth was stuck to the skin with serum and tacky, drying blood. Chu Shuzhi winced as he peeled it free.

It was distressing seeing the Envoy so helpless and unresponsive and ill—Chu Shuzhi almost wished Xiao Guo was the one tending to him, using his newly acquired skills. But the kid was too inept to trust with such a task, and Lord Envoy should not be touched by just anyone. Chu Shuzhi himself was unworthy, but at least Lord Envoy had chosen him.

Below the ribs on Lord Envoy’s right side, there was a jagged hole, the wound small and scabbed but puffy and with a worrying green energy oozing from it. Poisonous gas. This was definitely the result of shrapnel from the explosion. Chu Shuzhi opened the first aid kit and found an alcohol swab to wipe the wound, but he didn’t know whether to disturb the scab or not. Would that start it bleeding again and weaken Lord Envoy further? Just cleaning the surface probably wouldn’t have much effect. It needed a poultice.

He pulled the underclothes further aside and stopped. A waxed black cord was twisted around Lord Envoy’s neck—the necklace Chu Shuzhi had felt earlier in the park. Its pendant, a large bead of amber-coloured jade in an old-fashioned setting, was wedged in the crook of Lord Envoy’s shoulder. Chu Shuzhi straightened it, positioning it on the Envoy’s chest. Whatever its significance, it was clearly important to him, and Chu Shuzhi hoped foolishly that its presence might ease Lord Envoy’s suffering, even in his current state.

He moved on and conducted an uncomfortably thorough survey, revealing that Lord Envoy had been lanced by the gas in three other places on his shoulder, chest and stomach. As well, he had those defensive blistering burns on his forearms, inner upper arm and along his side. Those were shallow, and Chu Shuzhi did his best with antibiotic ointment and sticking-plasters, but he didn’t know what to do about the puncture wounds. He didn’t have the skills for this. Lord Envoy needed a medic.

Chu Shuzhi replaced the robes for now, arranged Lord Envoy’s long hair neatly and tucked the cloak around his shoulders. That done to his satisfaction, he stood up. Xiao Guo had been gone too long. Even as he thought it, the kid’s voice called from the hallway, “Chu-ge?”

Chu Shuzhi skirted the wardrobe, pausing only to quickly bundle up the clean clothes on the airing rack and stash them by the foot of the bed, collapse the rack itself and prop it out of the way in the dusty space where the wardrobe had been. Then he stuck his head into the hallway to see Xiao Guo several doors down, holding a full pitcher of water and clearly lost. Chu Shuzhi beckoned him, and he scuttled over sheepishly and handed Chu Shuzhi the water.

At that point, Chu Shuzhi nearly barred his entry. Lord Envoy had ordered him not to involve anyone from the SID, and he’d already overstepped. He should draw a line under that grievous error and take things from here himself.

Honestly, he didn’t want anyone else in his space. There was nowhere to retreat to, nowhere he could be alone. Even unconscious, the Envoy made the room feel crowded, and Xiao Guo was all elbows and legs.

But if he sent Xiao Guo back to the SID now, bursting with the secret that the Envoy was injured, there was every chance Zhao Yunlan would guess something was up and trick Xiao Guo into spilling the beans. Not that it would take much in the way of trickery.

Chu Shuzhi let him back into the flat.

Xiao Guo beheld the rearranged furniture with confusion. “Has Hei—ah, your friend woken up, Chu-ge?”

His eyes were big as he said it, and Chu Shuzhi reminded himself that Xiao Guo’s experiences of Lord Envoy until now had been few and impressive, and his unease was appropriate. Chu Shuzhi tried to be kind. “No. He’s unconscious. Did you learn anything in that first aid course of yours?”

“Mostly, they taught us to bandage splints and call an ambulance if it was anything serious.” Xiao Guo fidgeted with the hem of his sweatshirt. “I could give him an IV to keep him hydrated. I know how to do that.”

Chu Shuzhi bit back a sharp refusal and let him put a cannula in the back of the Envoy’s hand. At least the kid was careful, and he kept his eyes averted from Lord Envoy’s face. They set up the IV, hanging the bag from the corner of the wardrobe. When it was done, Chu Shuzhi nodded his thanks and pointed towards the window. “Now sit over there and don’t say anything.”

Xiao Guo sat on the floor, just out of sight, and Chu Shuzhi brought the pitcher and a bowl to Lord Envoy and hesitated. Should he try to clean the puncture wounds—would that do any good? He was standing, frozen in indecision when someone knocked on the door.

Xiao Guo jumped up from his seat under the window to make way. Chu Shuzhi edged past him without a word and went to answer the knock.

On his threshold was the last person he expected: Zhu Hong, carrying a bag from a pharmacy. “Lao Chu,” she said in greeting. “Our boss who makes even ghosts quail in fear is in a filthy mood. He sent me to bring you medicine if you’re sick and otherwise make you stop malingering. There’s work to—”

“Medicine,” interrupted Chu Shuzhi. “Snake medicine. Yes, I need that, as soon as possible.” Relief made him light-headed. Whatever she’d brought from the pharmacy would be useless, but the Snake Tribe were famed herbalists; if anyone could provide a curative poultice that would heal Lord Envoy’s injuries, it was them.

Zhu Hong eyed him up and down. “You don’t look sick.”

“It’s not for me. For my friend.” He resisted the urge to look behind him, into the room. To make sure Lord Envoy couldn’t hear him claiming friendship.

Zhu Hong was frowning. “You don’t have friends!”

“What do you know about me?” Chu Shuzhi raised his chin. “How did you even find me here?”

“Your address is in your personnel file,” said Zhu Hong, as if he should have known that. And he did recall notifying Wang Zheng of his new address, but no one ever used those details. No one cared where he lived. They’d never bothered coming here before. Zhu Hong folded her arms, narrow-eyed, openly suspicious. “Why don’t you take your friend to the hospital?”

Chu Shuzhi couldn’t say it, especially not here in the hallway of his tenement. He met her eye, pointedly. She blinked, then caught his meaning and jerked back, probably less subtly than she thought.

That was what the SID thought of Dixingren. Chu Shuzhi had always known it. Why, today of all days, did it feel so humiliating?

Without warning, Zhu Hong rallied, shoving him and following him inside, closing the door after her. “I can’t believe you’d harbour a Dixingren behind the SID’s back,” she hissed. “Behind Hei Pao Shi’s back, too!”

“He’s not—” started Xiao Guo, and Chu Shuzhi whirled to face him, putting every ounce of threat he had into his look. By rights, his glare should have been wearing out from overuse, but Xiao Guo’s mouth snapped obediently shut.

“I have my reasons,” said Chu Shuzhi, turning back to the Snake Yashou. He clenched his jaw, struggling with himself. He needed her help, but asking for it was another betrayal of his increasingly tattered promise. Desperation won out. Surely it would be all right to involve Zhu Hong as long as she didn’t learn the identity of the patient—and the relief of having a plan, of doing something to improve the situation, was overwhelming. “It’s important. Please.”

Zhu Hong looked taken aback at the courtesy. She stared at him for a long, searching moment, then nodded briskly. “What kind of injury?”

“Poultices,” said Chu Shuzhi, skirting the question. “And some kind of tonic. Something that will restore dark energy.”

Zhu Hong raised her gaze to the ceiling. “Your friend shouldn’t be using his powers in Haixing anyway. If Lao Zhao finds out—”

“Zhao Yunlan cannot know about this.” Chu Shuzhi’s voice rose, despite himself, because that was one line he would not cross. Lord Envoy had been very clear about not wanting to involve the SID, and Chu Shuzhi had given his word. Recruiting one or two of his colleagues was already far more than he should have done, however desperate the situation. But Zhao Yunlan was the SID. In the brief silence that followed, something in the ambience of the room changed, as if Lord Envoy had reacted to his shout. But no sound came from the other side of the wardrobe. Lord Envoy was unconscious. Chu Shuzhi must have imagined it.

“Lao Zhao is already beside himself about the case,” said Zhu Hong.

“What’s the case?” asked Chu Shuzhi, reluctantly. Whatever it was, he couldn’t do anything about it.

“His precious Professor Shen is AWOL,” said Zhu Hong. “He’s probably off doing professor stuff in a library or laboratory somewhere, but Lao Zhao’s got it into his head he’s been kidnapped.”

Chu Shuzhi kept his expression as blank as he was able. No one else knew the missing Professor Shen was currently lying on Chu Shuzhi’s bed in a coma. They couldn’t know. Chu Shuzhi wasn’t supposed to know.

Zhu Hong took his lack of response as a sign of agreement. “Still,” she said, “I really shouldn’t go to the Snake Village now. If we all disappear without warning, Lao Zhao will lose his mind.”

Chu Shuzhi didn’t know how to persuade her. He tried anyway. “This is more important.”

Her lips scrunched to the side. “A friend, huh?” She looked around the room, seeing too much even if the bed and its occupant were safely hidden by the wardrobe. “Lao Chu, how can you live like this? Aren’t you ashamed to bring your friend here?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my flat.” Chu Shuzhi scowled. He was going to have to beg, to abase himself for Lord Envoy’s sake. He had no choice. “Zhu Hong—”

“Hong-jie,” Xiao Guo interrupted, coming forward. “Chu-ge’s friend is very sick. It really is urgent.”

“You’ve even involved this kid.” Zhu Hong rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Give me money for a taxi to the edge of the forest.”

Chu Shuzhi gave her the entire contents of his wallet. It wasn’t much, but she took it without comment. “Your friend,” she repeated, meaningfully. “Will they be all right until we get back?”

“He has to be. I’ll watch over him.” Chu Shuzhi nodded his thanks and, on impulse, added, “Take Xiao Guo with you.”

Zhu Hong blinked. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t be walking around alone, with all the activity there’s been lately.”

She snorted.

He had to respect her pride, especially since she’d been taken hostage only the night before. To soothe her ruffled scales, he added, “The kid’s not doing anything here except cluttering up the place. Besides, he could use the field experience.”

“Well, that’s true. Come on, then.” She turned and strode off without waiting for Xiao Guo’s response.

Chu Shuzhi grabbed Xiao Guo by the shoulder as he trotted past in her wake and squeezed hard enough to be a warning. “Not a word to her or anyone.”

Xiao Guo nodded like a scared rabbit and hurried away, leaving Chu Shuzhi with nothing to do but to trust him.

Chapter Text

Chu Shuzhi stood in the silence and breathed. His head still ached from last night’s gas attack, and worry for the Envoy was churning his stomach along with a profound disquiet at breaking his word, but he didn’t know what else he could have done once Zhu Hong turned up on his doorstep and offered him medicine. Maybe he should have made her go alone. She would definitely be badgering Xiao Guo for details by now—Chu Shuzhi hoped like hell the intern’s awe of Lord Envoy and fear of reprisals would outweigh whatever pressure Zhu Hong brought to bear.

One of the phones in his pocket buzzed, as it had been doing intermittently, but it seemed louder in the empty room and harder to ignore. He took both phones out. His was powered off. The message had been sent to Xiao Guo. Chu Shuzhi switched the phone to silent and set them both on the corner of the wardrobe. The SID would have to wait.

He went to check on the unconscious Envoy, but there was no change. His breathing was shallow, his face still hot, hands still cold. The IV bag was nearly empty, and Xiao Guo’s first aid kit had only had the one. Dammit!

Chu Shuzhi poured water from the pitcher into a bowl, removed the Envoy’s mask and washed and dried his face. He could do that much. He considered trying again to clean the perforations where the gas shards had pierced him, but the wounds weren’t bleeding and he didn’t want to disturb them until Zhu Hong came back with poultices, so he just removed the IV once the bag was empty, pressed gauze over the opening and, when it didn’t automatically heal, covered the back of Lord Envoy’s hand with a sticking-plaster. The IV disposed of, Chu Shuzhi pulled a blanket over the Envoy and prayed again that Lord Envoy’s assessment of the damage had been accurate, that he would soon heal on his own, or with help from the Snake Tribe’s medicine.

In the meantime, Chu Shuzhi was effectively alone, and as the quiet settled around him, to his surprise, he missed Xiao Guo. The kid was klutzy and had probably been cataloguing all of Chu Shuzhi possessions in his wide-eyed curious way—up to and including the high shelf where Nianzhi’s doll lived, with the puppet next to it, and the handful of books—but he was obliging and kind, and his curiosity came from a place of respect. In retrospect, maybe Chu Shuzhi had called him in the first place because of his ineptness, because it had seemed less of a direct betrayal than calling someone capable. It had left Chu Shuzhi firmly in charge.

He should have found a way to transport Lord Envoy here without involving anyone else, and perhaps if his wits weren’t dulled by the gas he would have, but—secretly, denied even to himself at the time, he hadn’t wanted to face this crisis, the faint but real possibility that Lord Envoy was permanently injured, might never wake. And he especially hadn’t wanted to face that possibility alone.

Still, no reasoning or excuse changed the fact that he’d broken his promise. Lord Envoy had trusted him, relied on him, and he’d failed miserably.

“Hei Pao Shi Daren.” Chu Shuzhi knelt by the bed and bowed his head. “I’m sorry for involving Xiao Guo. I didn’t mean for him to find out it was you, but I should have guessed it would turn out like this. The kid’s clumsy, but he’s not stupid.”

Lord Envoy didn’t reply, of course, but it was all too easy to read disapproval into the silence. Justified disapproval. Once the crisis had passed and Lord Envoy was well again, Chu Shuzhi would have to pay for his failings. He almost welcomed the thought—it was better, more honourable to make amends than to hide or wallow in guilt. He had little to give but his miserable life, and that was already Lord Envoy’s to dispose of as he saw fit, but there must be something more he could give up.

He was pondering what form his reparations might take and, despite his determination not to catastrophise, what would become of Dixing if Lord Envoy didn’t recover, when a trickle of white smoke filtered through the closed window.

Chu Shuzhi hurriedly replaced Lord Envoy’s mask and jumped to his feet, readying his energy cords in case this was an attack, but the smoke thickened just inside the window, gathering into the form of a small stout man in traditional dress, hovering at chest height. A messenger. Chu Shuzhi relaxed his hands and waited.

When it was fully formed, smoke cascading in endless streams from the hem of its robes, it bowed. “Hei Pao Shi Daren, I bring an urgent message from the Lord of the Guardians.”

From Zhao Yunlan? Chu Shuzhi frowned. The messenger had obviously found the room because Lord Envoy was here, but it didn’t seem to realise he was lying unconscious. Chu Shuzhi would have to receive the missive and pass it on when Lord Envoy awoke. “Speak.”

The messenger obeyed his direction. “The Lord of the Guardians regrets to report a person is missing. His disappearance is suspected to be related to last night’s case involving the culprits with the face stealing power and the power of poisonous gas. He would be grateful for your immediate assistance.”

Chu Shuzhi blinked. Zhao Yunlan was requesting help finding Professor Shen? He’d been angry with the Envoy to the point of rudeness last night; he must be worried indeed to turn to him now. Why? What was so urgent? The Professor has been missing less than a day. But then, if Zhao Yunlan suspected the professor’s absence was related to the case—Zhu Hong and Da Qing had both been kidnapped by Zhang Danni and her accomplice. Five others had been killed, as well as Lin Yusen. From Zhao Yunlan’s perspective, it wasn’t unreasonable to be concerned, and with most of the SID incommunicado, perhaps this was his last resort. Asking the Envoy.

Chu Shuzhi almost felt sorry for him.

The fact that Chu Shuzhi knew Shen Wei’s whereabouts was no help whatsoever. He couldn’t convey that intelligence. Besides, given the state the Envoy was in, Zhao Yunlan was right to be anxious, even if he was wrong about why. But Chu Shuzhi couldn’t tell him that, either. Zhao Yunlan would have to wait. And Chu Shuzhi would have to take the presumptuous course of replying on Lord Envoy’s behalf and hope that the messenger wouldn’t report what it saw.

“Hei Pao Shi Daren is occupied,” he said. “Tell Zhao Yunlan he will attend in due course.”

Was it the right thing to do? Well, it was done. The smoke messenger bowed and dispersed, and Chu Shuzhi sat on the floor by the bed, his back to the wardrobe, and settled in to sit vigil.

Chapter Text

Chu Shuzhi woke to a soft creaking. He’d fallen asleep on the floor, curled up against the wardrobe. His neck was stiff, and he was bleary, and the sound was coming from right beside him. It was—

“Daren, you’re awake!” Chu Shuzhi untangled his limbs and scrambled onto one knee, propelled by a violent jolt of relief.

Lord Envoy was trying and failing to sit up. His face was still pale, his lips colourless. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a breath. “Are you—all right? Where—are we?”

“Yes, I’m well.” Did Lord Envoy assume they’d left their meeting place because Chu Shuzhi had also been hurt? Maybe he was worried they’d been attacked or even abducted by whoever had turned Lin Yusen into a bomb. He must have expected Chu Shuzhi to guard him in place in the park. “We’re safe in my quarters, Daren. You fell unconscious, so I brought you here. Please, don’t get up.”

Lord Envoy fell back on the pillow, catching his breath. Between the mask and his illness, it was impossible to gauge how he felt about this news. If his experience of the gas was anything like Chu Shuzhi’s, his head must be pounding, and his lungs were clearly damaged and labouring with the effort of speech, but there was no indication that his senses were impaired. His next words proved it. “Is this—your room?”

“I moved.” Chu Shuzhi lowered his gaze, ashamed of his ingratitude.

Lord Envoy started to say something but broke off, coughing. Chu Shuzhi poured water into a cup and supported him as he drank. After a few sips, Lord Envoy pushed the cup away. “What time—?”

Chu Shuzhi got up to check the time on Xiao Guo’s phone. “It’s nearly two in the afternoon. You lost consciousness six hours ago, and I couldn’t rouse you.” He knelt again. He would not flinch from telling the whole. “Xiao Guo helped me bring you here. It was under a promise of secrecy, but he—he knows it’s you, Daren. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean him to find out. And then Zhu Hong came looking for me—”

Lord Envoy turned ashen. “History is—too fragile to—risk—” He broke off, clearly distressed. “Told you—not to—involve the SID.”

Chu Shuzhi’s stomach turn into a cold, leaden pancake. All along, despite his misgivings, a small inner voice that sounded not unlike Nianzhi had been reassuring him, saying he had no choice in his actions. He was doing what needed to be done to keep Lord Envoy safe, and when Lord Envoy heard the whole, he would understand. Now it turned out the voice had lied.

Well, of course. Lord Envoy wouldn’t have extracted that promise for no reason. Chu Shuzhi should have known. Shouldn’t have needed Lord Envoy to tell him history itself was at stake, for him to keep his word. What had he done?

He put the cup down and moved onto both knees, bowing his head. “I failed you, Daren. And—” He clenched his hands at his sides and admitted the rest. “And to transport you here by taxi, I had to remove your mask. Daren, I know your secret.”

The silence rang so loud that Chu Shuzhi thought Lord Envoy had summoned his blade. But he wasn’t strong enough for that, didn’t seem to have access to dark energy at all, and his jaw was clenched as if his wounds were tearing at his insides. He took a ragged breath.

Chu Shuzhi’s heartbeat pounded like shame in his ears.

A rustle of fabric, and Chu Shuzhi had to look up. Lord Envoy had removed his mask. Even in his weakened state, he was very much the Envoy, Dixing’s legendary general, with the gravitas of ages and an air of accustomed leadership. His long braids added to the impression. But there was a directness to his gaze, a confidence that Chu Shuzhi associated with the professor, too. This was the face Professor Shen had shown the SID in the interrogation room, holding his ground until they’d all yielded—Zhu Hong, Chu Shuzhi himself, and Zhao Yunlan.

Chu Shuzhi clenched his hands. “Daren, Zhao Yunlan knows—”

Another paroxysm of coughing seized Lord Envoy, shaking him brutally. It sounded as if he couldn’t draw enough breath into his lungs to clear them, but when he finally did manage to, blood painted his lips again and spattered his clothes.

Chu Shuzhi was too alarmed to explain further, to say that Zhao Yunlan knew Professor Shen was missing and was concerned for his safety. It could wait until Lord Envoy was stronger. Until his inhalations were no longer as hoarse and rattling as a sandstorm. Pain was etched on his face, his fingers curling restlessly against the folds of his cloak. Chu Shuzhi wet a cloth and tried to clean his lips and clothes.

Lord Envoy gestured the cloth away. “The poison—lodged deeper—than I realised. Shouldn’t have—expected you to—”

Chu Shuzhi couldn’t bear to hear Lord Envoy’s disappointment in him. Between one breath and the next, he volunteered, “Zhu Hong has gone to the Snake Village for medicine. She and Xiao Guo should be back soon.”

“Thank you.” Was that gentleness? Was Lord Envoy extending kindness to such a one as him at a time like this? From his sickbed?

Remorse and self-contempt clogged Chu Shuzhi’s throat. He had broken his promise. Men of honour did not peddle in excuses or justifications. If Lord Envoy was too merciful to seek to exact punishment for his failings, Chu Shuzhi would have to offer it. “Daren, you should send me back to Dixing.”

The silence was smothering. He waited, determined not to interrupt Lord Envoy’s thoughts. Hoping and waiting for Lord Envoy to say, despite everything, No, I need you here.

Lord Envoy coughed. His brow furrowed. “Is that—what you want?”

“Daren.” It was what he deserved, the only recompense he could offer short of his life, and Lord Envoy wouldn’t accept that; he was not the Regent, ordering executions right and left. This punishment would be true justice.

“Then,” said Lord Envoy, “I’ll—send you back. I should—have done it—sooner.” The sentence pronounced, his eyes fell closed.

Chu Shuzhi went numb. He’d made an oath and broken it in the space of a few hours. He deserved to die. But this lesser fate—this exile—felt a thousand times worse.

To leave Haixing. No more bright sunshine or starlit skies. No more lush gardens and tall trees. No more modern conveniences and trivial entertainments. And more—to leave the SID, the noisy irreverent weirdos and, at their helm, rude cynical Zhao Yunlan, who was surprisingly able despite his deficiencies. And gangly Xiao Guo with his admiring gaze and naïve determination.

And more again, to set aside his duties, his sense of purpose. He’d done good work here, protected innocent lives. He’d known he was on the side of justice.

These were all the treasures Lord Envoy had given him—none of them available to him in Dixing—and he’d barely valued most of them till now.

Above all, here he’d been Lord Envoy’s man—willingly, completely. The Envoy had trusted him and used him, and that use had made him stronger and better. Now he was no longer needed, what was left of him? What worthless waste of space was he? What future lay ahead? The palace guard wouldn’t have him, nor he them. He’d make his home in a lava-filled crater before he set foot in the same room as the Regent again. His family were dead, his few friends in Dixing had long forgotten him.

His life was here. But it was not his life. It was Lord Envoy’s, loaned to him and now, justifiably, reclaimed.

He dug his nails into the palms of his hands. With supreme effort, he kept his voice level, and said, “Thank you, Hei Pao Daren.”

Chapter Text

Lord Envoy was silent so long, Chu Shuzhi wondered if he was expected to pack his few things and leave immediately. He felt a faint stab of defiance at the thought. Whatever Lord Envoy had decreed, he would not leave until Lord Envoy was healed. Lord Envoy might have other priorities, among them keeping his condition and his identity secret, but Chu Shuzhi knew in his heart that the Envoy’s wellbeing was what mattered. That without the Envoy to protect them, Haixing and Dixing would both fall into chaos.

And though he himself was a poor substitute, it was up to him to protect Haixing and the SID from any further incursions as long as the Envoy was indisposed.

“Daren, I won’t leave until you’re recovered.”

Lord Envoy didn’t disagree, and though it was possible he’d fallen asleep or back into unconsciousness, there was no point disturbing him further. The fact he had woken on his own was a good sign—however weak he was, if he’d done it once, he would do it again.

Chu Shuzhi sat back down and contemplated his future morosely, but he was soon interrupted by another knock on the door. He flushed. Who was it now? Another member of the SID? Lord Envoy’s eyes were still closed, but he must think Chu Shuzhi an idiot to have brought him here. That it was always like this, with so many comings and goings.

“I don’t know who that could be,” Chu Shuzhi muttered, and he went to find out.

The knock had been polite, but he half-expected Da Qing or Lin Jing, or Zhao Yunlan being uncharacteristically diffident. In fact it was none of these.

Grandmother Cheng, the elderly woman who lived in the next room, stood at his door, her hands in the pockets of her dull green quilted coat, which was fraying at the cuffs and hem.

“Ah, my handsome young neighbour! I thought I heard you in there.” She squinted up at him over the rims of her glasses and under the brim of the shapeless old hat she was wearing. Whisps of grey hair escaped at the sides. “I wonder if I might trouble you for just a moment? I bought too many ripe pears from the market this morning, and I can’t eat them all myself.”

She made no move to look past him, and she didn’t ask why he was home in the middle of the day, and he was grateful enough for both of those things that he shut the door behind him and followed her to her room. He accepted the pears with a gruff word of thanks and took down the extra blankets for her bed.

He washed the pears in the sink down the hall and went back to his room, where he cored one, cut it into slices and took it to Lord Envoy. “Daren, are you awake? You should eat.”

Lord Envoy opened his eyes. “You have—made friends in Haixing.”

Chu Shuzhi didn’t know if it was disapproval or merely an observation, but he couldn’t let the misapprehension stand. “Your pardon, Daren. She’s not a friend. She’s just an old woman whose grandson is in prison and who can’t reach the top shelf in her room.”

Lord Envoy moved to sit up, fell back with a pained grunt and lay, panting shallowly. Chu Shuzhi put the plate on the wardrobe and moved to help him. If he could have taken on the affliction in Lord Envoy’s stead, he would have done it a heartbeat—that would have been a good use for his life. But all he could do was look after Lord Envoy and try to make him comfortable. There was only the one pillow, so he rolled up his spare coat to serve as a bolster and propped Lord Envoy up so he could nibble at the pear.

Lord Envoy was still holding his mask in one hand. Chu Shuzhi wanted to ask about his dual identities, but it felt impertinent, and it was easy to guess the answers: Lord Envoy lived in Haixing because he was required to and taught at the university because he found it rewarding. He held his secret close because otherwise chaos would follow. He didn’t trust the SID because—because it was tied to the Haixing authorities? Or was there more to it than that? Chu Shuzhi had heard infuriating stories of the first Chief Zhao of the SID and his pitiless treatment of the Dixingren he’d caught. Lord Envoy didn’t think Zhao Yunlan was like that, did he? Zhao Yunlan wasn’t perfect, by any means, but he was at his core a decent man. He talked about arresting all Dixingren who crossed his path, but when he met them, he considered their circumstances and treated them as individuals. As people.

And Professor Shen and Zhao Yunlan were on good terms. Zhao Yunlan was worried enough about the professor’s absence that he was turning the SID upside-down and sending messages to the Envoy. If Zhao Yunlan found out Professor Shen was the Envoy, what would he do?

It was impossible to say, and Lord Envoy had too much to lose. That must be the reason for his silence.

Lord Envoy licked pear juice from his fingers and touched one of the places he was hurt, just below his ribs. “If the Snake Medicine—draws out the poison—I will heal quickly. Then—you can return—to Dixing.”

Chu Shuzhi said nothing. There was no point talking about it.

Still, Grandmother Cheng’s request had been a strange sort of comfort. She was an old woman with nothing, an ordinary human, and he had helped her in this trivial way. Perhaps there would be people in Dixing for whom he could perform similar services. It wasn’t the work Lord Envoy had given him, but it would be meaningful in a small way. The kind of thing Xiao Guo might do, he realised, with a silent snort.

The kind of thing Nianzhi would have done.

Chapter Text

Chu Shuzhi had left his phone off and put Xiao Guo’s on silent hours ago to prevent their disturbing Lord Envoy’s rest, but when he answered the next knock on the door—this one peremptory—he regretted having neglected the devices. If he’d answered the no doubt numerous calls from the SID, he would not now be facing Zhao Yunlan across the threshold of his private dwelling.

“What are you doing here?” Chu Shuzhi came outside and shut the door behind him.

Zhao Yunlan hadn’t been affected by Zhang Danni’s gas the night before, but he looked exhausted and frazzled nonetheless. He was carrying a wrapped lollipop, gripping it so tightly the tips of his fingers were pale. He did not react well to Chu Shuzhi shutting the door. “Where is everyone? Not one of you good-for-nothings is answering your phone, and on top of that, your precious Envoy is too busy to help.”

“Did Wang Zheng tell everyone where I live?” Chu Zhu scowled. None of the SID had ever expressed interest in his living situation before, but it was a stupid question. Of course she’d told. Why had he ever thought his place would be secure? He should have taken Lord Envoy to a motel or had a safe house planned in case of emergency.

Zhao Yunlan didn’t even smirk. “Lao Chu, why are you here and not at work? We have a serious emergency on our hands.”

The emergency was Professor Shen’s unexplained absence. And yes, Chu Shuzhi could leave Lord Envoy here, weak and defenceless, and make a show of searching for the professor around the university and the city, but aside from the misdirection it would be a waste of time and energy, and the idea of leaving Lord Envoy unattended filled him with misgivings. He had to be here when the others got back with the medicine.

On the other hand, with the promise he’d made and his time in Haixing running out, perhaps protecting Lord Envoy’s secret from Zhao Yunlan was reason enough. Lord Envoy was intermittently conscious. He would be safe here and could order the others to stay quiet on the matter. And he had been very clear about keeping his condition a secret from the SID—which meant, above all, from Zhao Yunlan.

Chu Shuzhi refused to betray Lord Envoy’s trust any more than he already had. “Let’s go.”

Zhao Yunlan didn’t move, so Chu Shuzhi took a step down the hall, aiming to lead him away from the room, in such a hurry he didn’t stop to lock the door. Last night’s poisonous gas must still have been fogging his brain, for him to make such a foolish mistake.

“Let’s talk in private first.” Zhao Yunlan pushed the door open. “Wang Zhang thinks you’re mad about last night. Why do you have this huge thing in the middle of the room?”

He meant the wardrobe. Chu Shuzhi ran back. “You can’t be in here. We have an emergency to deal with. Everything else can wait.”

He grabbed Zhao Yunlan—something he’d never done before—and pulled, but Zhao Yunlan twisted his arm, slipping neatly from his grasp. “Where are Zhu Hong and the kid? Isn’t Xiao Guo with you?”

“They’re running an errand for me.” Chu Shuzhi stayed in the doorway, arms folded and chin raised, desperately trying to hold Zhao Yunlan’s attention.

Zhao Yunlan scowled. “Do you want to get fired? This is not the day to dodge my calls and send my staff on irrelevant errands.”

“You can’t fire me,” Chu Shuzhi shot back. “I’m leaving. I’m going back to Dixing.” Should he forcibly remove Zhao Yunlan? Should he use his power on him? If they kept shouting, half the residents on the floor would come to see what was going on. They’d certainly disturb the Envoy.

Zhao Yunlan was heading down the narrow aisle between the wardrobe and the shelves towards the window, too close to a secret that he must not discover. But Chu Shuzhi’s retort stopped him in his tracks. “Why would you leave now? You’re not a coward.” He gestured to the room at large. “And why have you been living this way? I pay you better than this!”

Chu Shuzhi glared. He didn’t have to explain himself to Zhao Yunlan, particularly not when Lord Envoy might be listening. Anything he said would sound resentful or stupid.

Zhao Yunlan glared back, then threw up his hands in exasperation. “Fine. Go! Who needs you? At this rate, there’ll be nothing between Dragon City and disaster but me and Damn Cat, but if you’re prepared to walk out like this, then good riddance. I’ll manage without you or your damned Hei Pao Shi.”

Chu Shuzhi stiffened at the insult to Lord Envoy, but that aside, Zhao Yunlan’s complaint was valid: he hadn’t only let Lord Envoy down. Breaking his promise and receiving his deserved punishment for it meant he’d let everyone at the SID down, too. His failure was complete, reducing his honour to tatters.

“You’re serious.” Zhao Yunlan was very still, watching him like a cat, and when he spoke, his exclamation was as frustrated as Chu Shuzhi had ever heard him. “Dammit, Lao Chu, you can’t just—”

“Zhao-xiong.”

The whispered name had an electric effect: Chu Shuzhi’s skin prickled all over, and Zhao Yunlan’s head whipped around. He took two more strides to round the bulky wardrobe and halted abruptly, a flash of alarm crossing his face as he registered the situation: Lord Envoy lying on the plain narrow bed, his head and shoulders propped up on a rolled-up coat. Obviously wounded, with a sticking-plaster on the back of his hand where the IV had been.

“What is this?” Zhao Yunlan glanced at Chu Shuzhi, then back to the Envoy, evidently joining the dots with the night before and Chu Shuzhi’s own temporary incapacity. “The explosion? Zhang Danni’s gas? Or is it something else?”

Chu Shuzhi had left Lord Envoy unmasked, so he wasn’t sure what Zhao Yunlan was seeing. Had Lord Envoy revealed the whole truth after making Chu Shuzhi promise to keep it from Zhao Yunlan? Was that a mistake caused by Lord Envoy’s exposure to the gas? Or had he managed to change his appearance so it was Professor Shen lying there? Was all of this Chu Shuzhi’s fault, too, because it was him Zhao Yunlan had come in search of? He moved to the foot of the bed and almost wept with relief to see Lord Envoy had replaced his mask before he’d spoken up. He was still out of his cloak and hood, of course, with his long hair in disarray, a far cry from his usual imposing self, but with the mask in place, there was no mistaking him as the Envoy.

“I’ll be all right,” he said, hoarse but steady. Chu Shuzhi could sense how much effort it cost him.

Perhaps Zhao Yunlan recognised that, too. He didn’t ask any further questions, just dropped his head and visibly gathered himself. After a tense moment, he exhaled noisily, then boosted himself up to sit on the side of the wardrobe and unwrapped his lollipop. The air of frustrated urgency slid away as if it had been an act, though Chu Shuzhi was sure that this composure was the real performance.

Lord Envoy paid no heed to Zhao Yunlan’s show of nonchalance. His dignity was like another set of robes, independent of his circumstance or his infirmity. “The decision to return Chu Shuzhi to Dixing is mine.”

Zhao Yunlan tucked one foot under his leg and sat there, sucking on his candy while he mulled that over. He sighed.

“Zhao-xiong, do you h—have something to say?” The hitch in Lord Envoy’s voice was unmistakeable this time.

Zhao Yunlan flexed the foot that was hanging down and answered, “I imagine you’re feeling like all kinds of crap right now, Hei Pao Shi. If there’s anything the SID can do for you—”

“Zhu Hong and Xiao Guo have gone to the Snake Tribe for medicine,” said Chu Shuzhi to save Lord Envoy the trouble of responding.

But Lord Envoy turned his head on the coat-bolster to face Zhao Yunlan anyway. “Say your piece, Zhao-xiong.”

Zhao Yunlan nodded and set his hands on his knees in a careless show of formality. “A man is missing, possibly in grave danger. Hei Pao Shi Daren, it’s our sworn duty—yours, mine, the SID’s—to protect innocent people. So is this really the time to be sending Lao Chu away? If you think you’re protecting him by it, let me tell you the SID is—”

“Stop,” blurted Chu Shuzhi. This was excruciating. He couldn’t stand by while Zhao Yunlan lectured Lord Envoy in his sickbed, especially since it was dressed up in fake courtesy, and he couldn’t bear the misapprehension that Lord Envoy was so concerned, so irrational as to send him away for Chu Shuzhi’s own sake. “It’s not to protect me. It’s my fault. I betrayed Hei Pao Daren’s trust.

“Eh? That’s can’t be right.” Zhao Yunlan’s gaze was fixed on Lord Envoy. “Hei Pao Shi, trust me, no one is more loyal to you than this bastard. He’d take your orders over mine any day of the week. There’s no way he’d betray you—it’s impossible.”

Chu Shuzhi’s hands involuntarily fisted at his sides. Everything Zhao Yunlan said was true, but they were weasel words; Chu Shuzhi would not seek to be let off the hook with sophistry and convenient logic. None of that would change what had happened. “I swore an oath, and I broke it.”

His voice came out hard and clipped, and as soon as he heard it, he was ashamed of that, too. He wasn’t angry at Zhao Yunlan or Lord Envoy; he was angry at himself.

Zhao Yunlan regarded him as though he could read all this and more on his face. “What kind of oath? Never mind, don’t tell me. Hei-laoge, I see it must have been a very solemn and important vow, and this bastard’s failure to keep it created a lot of problems.” He took out his lollipop, then stopped, holding the candy aloft as if struck by a thought. “Ah, is that how you were hurt?”

“No.” Lord Envoy’s tone was unreadable. “My injury is unrelated.”

“Okay, good.” Zhao Yunlan licked his lips and his heel knocked gently against the locked door of the wardrobe. “Still, no doubt it caused grave complications. Hei-laoge, as one leader to another—”

He broke off, and Chu Shuzhi wished with all his might that he’d fallen quiet because he’d thought better of this line of persuasion and was going to shut up or, better yet, apologise to Lord Envoy for his presumption. But of course that wasn’t it. This was Zhao Yunlan. He was only changing tack.

He lowered his voice confidingly and said, “You should know I’m only saying this because you’re unwell. Otherwise, you’d see for yourself that if it was in Lao Chu’s power, he would have moved heaven and earth to keep that oath. And you can’t blame him for not doing something beyond his abilities. Everyone has their limits. I don’t blame Damn Cat for sleeping on stakeouts—it’s who he is. And as his superior, it’s my job to know that.”

That was too much for Chu Shuzhi. How dare Zhao Yunlan set himself up as a role model for Lord Envoy and criticise his decision! How dare he tell Lord Envoy what he could and couldn’t do! What insolence! Chu Shuzhi held his ground, but it was a near thing when he itched to throw the SID chief bodily from his flat. The only reason he managed not to was because he was fairly sure Lord Envoy wouldn’t like it. Lord Envoy had invited Zhao Yunlan to speak. But Chu Shuzhi could not stay silent in the face of such insolence.

“Zhao Yunlan, this is not your affair! Hei Pao Shi Daren, say the word and I’ll remove him—”

“How is this not my affair?” Zhao Yunlan stuck his stupid lollipop back in his mouth and glared at Chu Shuzhi. “You’re one of my people.”

Lord Envoy’s eyes were closed, but his jaw had a familiar stubborn set. “Chief Zhao, I will find another Dixing representative to work at the SID.”

Despite himself, Chu Shuzhi flinched. Luckily, neither of the others noticed.

“That’s great!” said Zhao Yunlan. “We’re understaffed, and as you know, business is picking up lately. But Hei-laoge, can’t you leave Lao Chu at the SID as well? You sent him to me with advice to take him on, and I did. That means he’s under my protection. If he needs disciplining, by all means make a complaint and I’ll discipline him. But don’t take him away. We need him. I, your brother, need him.”

In the silence that followed, Chu Shuzhi found his eyes stinging. He had only just acknowledged to himself, when faced with Lord Envoy’s decision to remove him from Haixing, the satisfaction he gained from working at the SID with the rest of the team. It had never once occurred to him that the SID might rate him as worth fighting for. He’d assumed he was there under sufferance, because they couldn’t find anyone else with the skills they needed. He’d certainly never gone out of his way to ingratiate himself with the other staff there, least of all Zhao Yunlan.

The light in the room dulled as the sun outside went behind the building opposite. Zhao Yunlan seemed unconcerned with any reactions his speech might have provoked. He hitched his other leg up and sat cross-legged. “Let’s talk about it again when you’re recovered. In the meantime, I need your assistance. We have a missing person to find—can you lend me Lao Chu for the search?”

Lord Envoy considered. “That’s up to him.”

Misery hit Chu Shuzhi anew. Was Lord Envoy so upset with him he wouldn’t even let him tend his sick bed? Did Lord Envoy’s uneasy relationship with Zhao Yunlan and the others—surely it must be uneasy, if he couldn’t trust them with his secret—now extend to Chu Shuzhi as well? Chu Shuzhi had said he wouldn’t return to Dixing until Lord Envoy was recovered, and now Lord Envoy was suggesting he spend his remaining time running around the city with Zhao Yunlan on a wild goose chase?

Well, he wouldn’t go! Whether Lord Envoy wanted him at his side or not, Chu Shuzhi was going to stay, to protect him and nurse him back to health. He wouldn’t get in the way or bother him—once Zhao Yunlan had gone, he wouldn’t say another word if Lord Envoy preferred silence. But the Envoy’s well-being mattered above all else—even above obedience. Chu Shuzhi would defy Lord Envoy’s wishes, if he had to. The knowledge put a sick, cold, stubborn feeling in his stomach.

He sent Zhao Yunlan a mulish look. “I’m busy.”

“After Zhu Hong returns with the medicine, then.” Zhao Yunlan frowned, but it wasn’t a scowl this time. He was genuinely troubled. “The thing is, Hei-laoge, it was only yesterday Zhang Danni and her partner drugged and kidnapped my team, but they’d been operating in Dragon City for over a week. Five women are dead, that we know of. And if her gas affected even you—” He ran a hand through his hair, which was already more dishevelled than usual. “I let this man—this missing person—assist with the case. She saw his involvement. And now no one knows where he is, and Zhang Danni and her accomplice are dead. He could be anywhere, locked up without food or water, he could be—” He dropped his head, swallowed, and continued, roughly, “Zhang Danni said she wanted revenge on all the beautiful people. If you saw him, you’d understand why I’m worried.”

“Zhao-xiong—”

Zhao Yunlan didn’t seem to hear the interjection. “If it makes a difference to your decision, I have reason to think he’s one of yours. I’ve been delaying bringing him to your attention, I’ll admit, but I’m hoping you’ll make an exception for him. For me. You see, I’m planning on recruiting him to the SID. But when I went to see him this morning to tell him about—about what happened to Lin Yusen, he wasn’t there. The university where he works didn’t know where he was.”

Behind the mask, Lord Envoy blinked rapidly—maybe alarmed at the mention of the university.

Chu Shuzhi saw his chance and took it. “Oh, is that who all this fuss is about?” he said, doing his best to sound bored. “He isn’t dead or kidnapped. I saw him this morning catching a taxi.”

Zhao Yunlan’s head came up sharply. “What taxi? Are you sure? Shen Wei would never miss a lecture without informing the university.”

There was no good answer to that, so Chu Shuzhi shrugged. “I can only tell you what I saw. He’s safe.”

Zhao Yunlan let out a shaky breath and sagged as if relief had turned his bones to liquid. Chu Shuzhi risked a glance at Lord Envoy, who inclined his head in the faintest of nods. Approval. Chu Shuzhi felt his own surge of relief. He’d been able to mitigate some of the damage he’d caused, before Lord Envoy sent him back down below.

Chapter Text

“Well,” said Zhao Yunlan, eventually, when he’d asked Chu Shuzhi for more details about the sighting—when, where, what direction the taxi had been heading in, how Professor Shen had been dressed, whether he’d been alone—“if there’s nothing I can do to assist here, I’ll make my excuses.”

Yes, go! thought Chu Shuzhi, but he stayed silent, deferring to Lord Envoy, who said, after a pause, “Zhao-xiong, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how sensitive this situation is.”

“You can count on my discretion.” Zhao Yunlan jumped down from the wardrobe and stood straight, looking down at the Envoy. “Feel better soon. And you—” He turned to Chu Shuzhi. “Turn on your phone, and answer it when I call.”

Lord Envoy didn’t comment, and Chu Shuzhi saw Zhao Yunlan out and shut the door after him with an exhausted sigh of his own.

“I should lock the damn door and refuse to answer it,” he muttered under his breath, but Zhu Hong and Xiao Guo could be back anytime, and the medicine they would bring was sorely needed.

From the other side of the wardrobe, he heard a huff that might have been amusement—or pain. He rounded the wardrobe again to find Lord Envoy’s eyes were closed behind the mask, but there was a faint wry curve to his lips.

Perhaps Zhao Yunlan finding out wasn’t the disaster Lord Envoy had feared. Chu Shuzhi debated whether to raise the matter of his own future again, but Zhao Yunlan’s stepping in to argue on his behalf sat uneasily in his stomach; however much life here was preferable to retirement in Dixing, any decision about his future was Lord Envoy’s and no one else’s. And Lord Envoy in his wisdom had already made the call. Chu Shuzhi pushed any thought of Xiao Guo and the others from his mind.

There was no point asking if Lord Envoy was comfortable, either. The conversation with Zhao Yunlan had clearly drained him, but he was as unmovable as granite, steadfast in his refusal to admit he might not heal. His determination gave Chu Shuzhi confidence, too. Either the Snake medicine would restore Lord Envoy to full health, or if things remained uncertain, Chu Shuzhi would—he’d take the damned Longevity Dial from the SID and give his own life force to heal him, if that was what it took. That student had saved her grandmother with the thing, and Chu Shuzhi’s life wasn’t good for anything else, now.

In the meantime, seeing Lord Envoy’s pallor, he removed the coat-bolster from under Lord Envoy’s shoulders so he could lie flat and rest, and said, jokingly, “You know Zhao Yunlan is probably going to spend the rest of the day looking for Professor Shen.”

Lord Envoy didn’t immediately reply. Chu Shuzhi bowed his head, clutching his rolled-up coat in his hands. Had he overstepped? Lord Envoy didn’t want him here, so— A rustling sound as Lord Envoy took off his mask again, revealing a furrowed brow sheened with sweat. “Earlier you said—Zhao Yunlan learned—of my other identity.”

“No, Daren.” Chu Shuzhi had to think back: what had he said to Lord Envoy? How had he given that impression? Ah. “I only meant to say he knows Professor Shen is missing.” He dumped the coat on the floor at the foot of the bed and rinsed blood from the cloth he’d been using. “Daren, may I wipe your face?”

“Not necessary.” Lord Envoy was obviously uncomfortable at being so weak he couldn’t even perform this small function for himself. But then, “I would—appreciate it.”

An admission and a concession in one. Carefully, Chu Shuzhi wiped Lord Envoy’s face and blotted it dry with a clean cloth.

Lord Envoy seemed easier, afterwards, but then he frowned. “My colleagues—at the university must—be wondering—where I am. Would you—call them?”

It was the first time he’d admitted his other role in so many words. Chu Shuzhi was determined not to react. He focused on the practicalities instead. “If I tell them Professor Shen has been taken ill and Zhao Yunlan hears of it, he may make the connection and suspect you, Daren.”

“A risk—I’ll have to—take.”

“Could you claim a family emergency?”

“Raises other—questions. Illness is the only—way to explain—unscheduled absence.” He sighed. “Tell them—I’m all right and—I’ll return—tomorrow. I’ll make—my apologies then.”

“Daren!” protested Chu Shuzhi, before he stop himself. He ducked his head but continued, doggedly, “The headache from the gas is persistent. It’s already Thursday—please consider taking the rest of the week to recover.”

“I have lectures,” said Lord Envoy. “No one to cover—for me. The department—is short-staffed since—Teacher Zhang’s departure.”

Surely a Haixing university’s staffing problems were the least of their concerns, given the state Lord Envoy was in! But it was obviously important to him. And Chu Shuzhi’s warning about the headache had given him an idea. “I told Zhao Yunlan I saw you walking around. Might Professor Shen be occasionally subject to very severe migraines?”

“Unless I were—completely—incapacitated, I should have—notified the Biology Department this morning, but—yes, that’s—a good answer. Thank you—Chu Shuzhi.”

Chu Shuzhi went to the window and turned on his phone. A flood of notifications buzzed as it connected to the network. Ignoring them, he called the biology department and told the story to the same administrator he’d spoken to that morning. “He expects to be back at work tomorrow.”

“Which hospital?” she asked.

“What? Ah, no.” Chu Shuzhi couldn’t say Lord Envoy was hospitalised, in case the administrator contacted the hospital directly, but nor could he say he was at home. Professor Shen lived in the teachers’ dormitory, and the department must have already sent someone there to look for him, when he hadn’t arrived that morning. Zhao Yunlan would have checked there, too, or sent Da Qing in. Chu Shuzhi made a helpless face at Lord Envoy and said, “He’s resting at—at a friend’s house. A healer—a doctor, I mean—gave him medicine and said he mustn’t be disturbed for the rest of the day.”

Ha! If only there were a way to guarantee an end to the disturbances and interruptions. But instead, naturally, Zhu Hong and Xiao Guo chose that exact moment to return. They didn’t even wait to be admitted, just gave a cursory knock and barged in, Zhu Hong looking around with open curiosity. Had Xiao Guo told her who the patient was?

“Tomorrow,” said Chu Shuzhi into the phone again, and hung up before there were any more awkward questions or the others realised who he was talking to and why. If the university had further questions, Lord Envoy could deal with them after he’d healed. Chu Shuzhi put his phone away and moved to block Zhu Hong’s path before she rounded the wardrobe. “Did you bring the medicine? What took you so long?”

“It’s here. Auntie had to make the poultice, and Fourth Uncle gave me the instructions, but we would have been here sooner except Xiao Guo insisted on stopping for dumplings.”

Xiao Guo held up two steaming plastic bags, and Chu Shuzhi belatedly registered the savoury aroma of food. His stomach growled audibly, but he ignored it. “Why did you waste time on that? The patient needs medicine, not food!”

“Chu-ge, you haven’t eaten since early this morning at the latest,” said the kid, thrusting the bags into Chu Shuzhi’s hands. “You should—”

“There’s no time for that.” Chu Shuzhi dumped the food bags on the floor under the window and accepted the silk-wrapped bundle of medicine from Zhu Hong. “Tell me what to do with this.”

While she was explaining, Xiao Guo took the pitcher from the top of the capsized wardrobe and disappeared into the hallway, shutting the door after him. He found his way back this time and let himself in, carrying the refilled vessel carefully, and returned it to its place.

“Of course, I could do it for you,” said Zhu Hong, when she’d told Chu Shuzhi how to apply the poultices. “If you weren’t all being so melodramatic and secretive. What’s going on?”

“You don’t need to know.” Chu Shuzhi returned Xiao Guo’s phone to him and ushered them both firmly out.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Take care of your friend. But I will find out everything, sooner or later.”

“Then it’ll be later.” Chu Shuzhi shut the door in her face and locked it.

The quiet was a relief, but he wasn’t alone, and there was still work to be done. He took a fortifying breath and returned to the other, cramped side of the wardrobe. “I have the medicine, Daren.”

“Good.” Lord Envoy had put his mask back on, presumably as a precaution in case Zhu Hong had invaded his privacy. Now he removed it again, stiffly, as if the mere act of moving his arm pained him and he were trying to suppress it. He swallowed hard. “Xiao Guo—was right. You—eat first.”

“I’ll eat after.” Chu Shuzhi put the medicine on the floor and untied its silk wrapping, trying not to think about what he was about to do. He, who had broken his promise and was soon to be sent away, was the last person who should be tending to Lord Envoy. A stranger in the street would be more worthy. The fact that there was no one else who could be trusted with the task didn’t change that.

He poured water into a bowl and washed and dried his hands. First, the medicine. He tipped the sachet of spicy-smelling powder into a cup and mixed it with water, then supported Lord Envoy as he drank it. Zhu Hong hadn’t known how long it would be before it took effect.

“It’s an anaesthetic as well as a restorative,” said Chu Shuzhi, in case Lord Envoy hadn’t overheard the instructions. “We should wait until the pain has subsided before we proceed.”

“There’s no time,” said Lord Envoy. “I’m weakening, and—I can’t heal—until the solidified gas shards—are removed.”

Chu Shuzhi ducked his head in acknowledgement. He didn’t want to hurt Lord Envoy, but he would say the same in his place. “Then I will uncover your wounds, Daren.”

An emotion flickered across Lord Envoy’s face, too fast to read. “Whatever—is needful.”

Wiping his face, with permission, had felt transgressive. Now Chu Shuzhi had to trespass into his reserve and privacy, making it impossible to ignore that the powerful and legendary Envoy was a person in a damaged body, lying helpless. It had been bad enough when he was unconscious; the prospect was so much worse now he was awake and not healing.

And how galling for Lord Envoy to be forced into a such situation with the one who’d let him down. But hesitation would add to the awkwardness. Hiding his embarrassment, as matter-of-factly as he was able, Chu Shuzhi peeled back the robes and bared the Envoy’s chest except for the pendant which lay cradled in the hollow of his throat. The puncture wounds appeared even more angry than before, hot and puffy, and each with a deep purple halo and a faint drift of Zhang Danni’s bright green gas. Chu Shuzhi hoped the haze wasn’t enough to affect him—he would need his power if trouble came—but regardless, there was no turning back from what had to be done. He dipped a clean cloth in water and cleaned the four deep wounds as gently as he could, peeling off the scabs, wiping away the crusted blood and lymph. The sores began to bleed again.

Lord Envoy clenched his jaw and fists and made no sound, but his breath was ragged.

Chu Shuzhi unwrapped the poultice, which smelled of herbs and earth, broke off a goodly portion and pressed it to the place below Lord Envoy’s ribs where he’d been lanced with the poisonous shrapnel. He covered it with gauze from the first aid kit and secured the gauze with surgical tape. Lord Envoy’s muscles quivered with the effort—of staying silent or of holding still. Chu Shuzhi wished there were a way to make it easy. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” said Lord Envoy, his voice a rasp. “It’s all right. I’m—all right.”

He was plainly not all right, but lacking other options, Chu Shuzhi continued. By the fourth and final wound—the shallowest, but in no better shape than the others—Lord Envoy’s skin was slick with sweat, and the tape wouldn’t stick. Chu Shuzhi dried the skin and tried again, and this time it held fast. “Do you know if there are any other places—”

“I don’t—think so.” Lord Envoy was obviously only keeping his breathing quiet by force of will, but when Chu Shuzhi started to straighten his robes and cover him, he spoke. “I’d prefer—if there’s something else—to wear—”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Chu Shuzhi was an idiot. The robes were bloody and unpleasant by this time, clammy and ripe with sickness. Of course Lord Envoy would want to change out of them. And he was asking as a favour, an unusual enough occurrence that Chu Shuzhi wasn’t sure what it meant. Had Lord Envoy’s illness lowered his inhibitions? Regardless, of course Chu Shuzhi would do whatever he could. He had no experience with nursing, and getting Lord Envoy in and out of the coat had been a laborious task, possible only because of Xiao Guo’s assistance and Lord Envoy’s having been unconscious, but he’d just have to do better.

He opened the drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, currently on its side. The clothes fell out in a spill of black. He found some knit-cotton sleep pants, a plain, long-sleeved t-shirt and, from the bundle of laundry at the foot of the bed, thick woollen socks. He stuffed everything else back into the drawer and shoved it closed.

Then he faced Lord Envoy. “I’ll have to—”

He faltered.

“I have not—been tended like this—in a very long time.” There was a gentleness to the observation, a wistfulness, as if the memory held significance. Lord Envoy blinked and focused on Chu Shuzhi. “There’s been—no need. But today—today I am in need—and you’re doing well—Chu Shuzhi. I’m grateful—for all you can—do for me.”

Fortified by this encouragement, Chu Shuzhi set the mask aside and stripped Lord Envoy of his upper clothes first, disturbing his dressings as little as possible and trying not to catch his hair in the tangle of clothing. Surprisingly, it was actually easier now that Lord Envoy was conscious—although he was very weak, he was cooperative, bending his arms so Chu Shuzhi could get them out of the sleeves.

Chu Shuzhi paused once most of the garments were set aside. “Your necklace?”

Lord Envoy, lying there in only his drawers, covered the jade pendant with his hand. “It stays.”

That was all. Chu Shuzhi’s curiosity sparked, but he ignored it and continued. He tried not to pay too much attention to Lord Envoy’s body. It felt wrong to see it. Lord Envoy, with his unimaginable powers and longevity, commanded with the authority of age and wars past, and once this setback had passed, he would be unassailable again. Untouchable. For now, he wasn’t able to maintain his own privacy, but if he had been, he would certainly not have exposed himself like this, so Chu Shuzhi shouldn’t notice how fit he was, lean and toned, nor how his youthful appearance gave away nothing of his past. He looked no older than Chu Shuzhi himself, an impression that deepened once he was lying there in Chu Shuzhi’s mundane clothing. Except for the long hair, if any of the SID saw him now, they’d recognise only his other persona, Professor Shen.

The process of changing clothes was clearly uncomfortable, but afterwards, some of the tension left Lord Envoy’s body. “That’s—better. Thank you. And I think the compresses are working—to leach out the poison. Snake medicine is—fast acting.”

Chu Shuzhi sat back on his heels. Once Lord Envoy was healed, his time in Haixing would come to an end. Still, the alternative—Lord Envoy’s prolonged illness—was unthinkable. “I’m very glad, Daren.”

Chapter Text

Lord Envoy seemed lost in thought until a dog barked in the street and someone shouted at it. The disturbance broke through his reverie. He blinked and focused on Chu Shuzhi. “You said you would eat.”

Food. Chu Shuzhi rose to his feet, reluctant to tend to his own comfort. It didn’t matter in the slightest, especially not now. He could eat when all this was over. “Would you like the rest of the pear, Daren?”

“No, thank you.” Lord Envoy seemed exhausted.

Well, it would be good for him to rest while he healed, and Chu Shuzhi could serve him better if he ate something himself. He retrieved the dumplings Xiao Guo had brought. When he opened the plastic bag, the savoury steam made his head swim and his stomach growl. He was much hungrier than he’d realised.

He sat near the foot of the bed, and at first he stuffed his face in silence, but when he’d assuaged the worst of his hunger, he said, tentatively, “Zhao Yunlan is very concerned for Professor Shen’s safety.”

He was also suspicious and would inevitably pry into the professor’s affairs. If Lord Envoy wanted to hold himself apart from the SID, cultivating Zhao Yunlan’s acquaintance seemed an unnecessary risk. But the Envoy didn’t seem troubled by Zhao Yunlan’s interest.

“So it seems.” A softness touched his expression, then he grew serious, his eyebrows drawing together. “Chu Shuzhi, do you—think me unreasonable?”

It was the same question he’d asked that morning in the park, with regard to taking away Lin Yusen’s remains the night before. Now he was asking about keeping his identity hidden. Chu Shuzhi swallowed the dumpling in his mouth, bowed his head and answered as he had before. “I wouldn’t dare, Daren. I know you must have your reasons.”

“Chu Shuzhi, look at me.”

Chu Shuzhi obeyed. Lord Envoy was probably headachy as well as pained by his injuries, and for one who had a power of healing, those ailments must be an unaccustomed trial. But his manner didn’t speak of physical ordeal; when he met Chu Shuzhi’s eye, he looked like Professor Shen, a gifted young scientist, faced with an intractable problem. “Chu Shuzhi, can I tell you something in confidence?”

Chu Shuzhi’s grip tightened on his chopsticks, making the last dumpling split and fall back into its plastic tray with a splatter. The question should have been reassuring, he knew—it meant he hadn’t entirely lost Lord Envoy’s trust, despite his behaviour that morning. But it was obvious Lord Envoy wanted to talk because something was weighing on his mind. Perhaps the medicine wasn’t working, and there was intelligence he had to pass on in case he didn’t recover, perish the thought. Chu Shuzhi was the only one available to hear his words. Surely, after today, Lord Envoy would have chosen anyone else to confide in, if he’d had the choice.

Or maybe it was because Chu Shuzhi was about to leave Haixing, so whatever Lord Envoy told him, there was no risk of Chu Shuzhi divulging it to the SID; he wouldn’t have the opportunity. If it were more than that, if Lord Envoy truly wanted him as a confidant, wouldn’t he have spoken up before, in their meetings? So the reassurance was hollow.

And for himself, the more he learned about Lord Envoy, the more complicated the picture became. It had been easy, thinking of him only as Lord Black-Cloaked Envoy, the legend, righteous and awe-inspiring, a saviour for Dixing, so ancient he was practically a god. Serving him would have been worthwhile even without the debt Chu Shuzhi owed him for commuting his sentence. But today had seen Lord Envoy hurt to the point of incapacity, with a body that bled and suffered like anyone else’s. It had revealed another, more mundane side to his life. Chu Shuzhi still didn’t know how to think about Lord Envoy’s other career, wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it.

Nonetheless, to be asked to receive his confidences was an honour, far more than Chu Shuzhi deserved. “Of course, Daren.”

The room fell silent but for the sounds from the street outside. Lord Envoy had the air of someone about to share something he had not spoken of in a very long time, who was searching for the right way to start. He coughed wetly, recovered and then began in what Chu Shuzhi suspected was the cadence of an academic lecture: “Not long from now, when all four of the Hallows are assembled, they will activate to create a wormhole. A portal through time.”

Chu Shuzhi held himself still to hide his surprise. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. Were the Hallows so important that Lord Envoy was concerned with them on his sickbed? And what about this portal—would it be dangerous? “Will it lead to the future?”

“It will lead to the past, to ten thousand years ago.” Lord Envoy licked his dry lips. “I believe Zhao Yunlan will travel through it.”

The poisonous gas must still be fogging Chu Shuzhi’s thoughts. Zhao Yunlan? Why Zhao Yunlan?

“Have—” Lord Envoy’s hand moved to his chest, to where the pendant lay under the t-shirt. “Have you heard the name Kunlun?”

“Kunlun.” Chu Shuzhi ears felt blocked. He shook his head to clear them. “You mean General Kunlun from the songs?”

Would General Kunlun travel through the portal, too? Perhaps he would come forward with his men, exchange places with Zhao Yunlan and help the SID fight their enemy. With Lord Envoy and General Kunlun, no one would be able to stand against them. Zhao Yunlan would be missed, of course, but—

Lord Envoy raised his eyebrows, and Chu Shuzhi’s fantasies of a bold, disciplined army screeched to a halt. Lord Envoy hadn’t said anything about soldiers. He’d said that Zhao Yunlan had gone to the past—

“Kunlun was the name Zhao Yunlan went by, during the war.”

“What?” Chu Shuzhi was too stunned to be polite. Zhao Yunlan was Kunlun? That was ludicrous. Smirking, lollipop-eating Zhao Yunlan wasn’t a warrior. Chu Shuzhi almost laughed, expecting Lord Envoy to say it was a joke.

Lord Envoy must have seen his disbelief. He nodded confirmation. Zhao Yunlan was the great general. Even in the face of Lord Envoy’s earnest expression, it seemed wildly far-fetched. But—Lord Envoy was Professor Shen. At this stage, anything was possible.

“So it’s not—” It wasn’t that Lord Envoy mistrusted the SID or Zhao Yunlan. It was the complete opposite. Zhao Yunlan had been—would be General Kunlun. Chu Shuzhi tried to take it in. “I suppose I should show him more respect. Should have shown him.”

He’d almost forgotten he was leaving.

Lord Envoy didn’t comment on the past tense, just surprised him by saying, “No. No, the SID is shaping him. I can already see it happening. You’re part of it, all of you. But Zhao Yunlan is perceptive, and any conscious attempt to guide him could be disastrous. He has to find his own way, with help from his friends, so he can be who he was.”

He didn’t say that Chu Shuzhi, by breaking his promise, had nearly let Zhao Yunlan learn his destiny, but that was obviously what he meant.

Chu Shuzhi tried to focus on the revelation. The idea of Zhao Yunlan wandering around the ancient world was hard to fathom. Had there been couches for him to lie on, or had he sprawled on rocks? “You really knew him, back then?”

“He saved my life.” Lord Envoy looked proud and fond. “Without him, the war would certainly have been lost, and Haixing fallen to the Rebels. This timeline we’re in must be preserved for the sake of everyone alive today. Zhao Yunlan must traverse that portal. So you see—” The corner of his mouth quirked. “—the reasons for my secret are existential as well as personal.”

“Ah.” Chu Shuzhi felt his eyes widen. The disbelief about Zhao Yunlan’s heroism had passed while Lord Envoy explained, and a sense of rightness risen to take its place: Professor Shen was fairly unsubtle about his interest in the chief of the SID, to the point where it would be easy to misinterpret his motives, but here was Lord Envoy saying that his intervening was a serious matter encompassing the fate of the world.

With those last four words, though, that sense of rightness shattered. Lord Envoy wasn’t just claiming friendship with Zhao Yunlan; he plainly meant more. Thinking back, it was there in every one of their interactions that Chu Shuzhi had witnessed. The first time they’d met, at the university, the Black-Cloaked Envoy had addressed Zhao Yunlan as a brother.

Lord Envoy was watching and flushed at his reaction. “I assumed—I thought you knew,” he said. “Regardless, thank you for keeping him safe until now.”

Chu Shuzhi didn’t know what to say. The Black-Cloaked Envoy had feelings. It shouldn’t have been a surprise—what person didn’t have feelings? But Lord Envoy’s performance of cool impartiality had been absolute until today. Chu Shuzhi hadn’t realised how much he’d relied on it. How much he’d tried to emulate it.

Now it seemed he’d been holding himself to a standard that didn’t exist.

Chapter Text

Although Lord Envoy was obviously waiting for his answer, the tension had left his body, the lessened burden of a secret shared. Chu Shuzhi couldn’t begrudge him that ease, so he nodded. “Of course. But Daren, Zhao Yunlan knows Professor Shen is Dixingren.”

It was one thing for Zhao Yunlan to be concerned for Prof Shen’s welfare; quite another to bring him to the attention of the Black-Cloaked Envoy. And his suspicion about the professor’s background might complicate Lord Envoy’s Haixing identity, especially if Zhao Yunlan really was set on recruiting him to the SID and Lord Envoy was determined to hold himself apart.

“No.” Lord Envoy’s exhalation might have been a sigh. “He only suspects. I’ve been keeping that side of things ambiguous.”

The distinction seemed important to him, though Chu Shuzhi didn’t understand why. “He’s been trying to protect you from yourself, until now.”

“Yes.” Lord Envoy actually smiled, which made him look much more like Shen Wei than the fearsome Envoy. “I’m hoping he’ll grow to trust me despite that.”

“So it’s a test?” Chu Shuzhi bit back a smirk. If it was, Zhao Yunlan was scraping through with a C.

“It’s a matter of balance. I don’t wish to lie to him, but it’s too dangerous for him to know the truth.” Lord Envoy looked wistful again, and closed his eyes.

Chu Shuzhi regretted making light of the situation and started to apologise, but Lord Envoy had slipped into a restful slumber.

Chu Shuzhi was tired enough he was tempted to follow Lord Envoy’s example and have another nap, but there was work to do. He stood up, steadying himself on the wardrobe, cleaned away the food containers and dirty cloths, emptied and rinsed the bloodied water bowl, and took Lord Envoy’s clothes to the bathroom along the hall and washed them in the sink. As he did, he thought over what he’d learned.

The idea of the Black-Cloaked Envoy having personal feelings was already hard to comprehend. The fact that those feelings were for Zhao Yunlan, an irreverent bastard, a slouching scruffbag of a human, and one whom Lord Envoy barely knew in this time, was a thousand times stranger! It was hard to imagine two more different people. On the other hand, there was a lot more to the Black-Cloaked Envoy than Chu Shuzhi had previously been aware. His residence in Haixing could have been a mansion with servants and staff, as suited his status. He could have chosen a life free of the petty annoyances and trivialities that must plague Professor Shen in his work at the university. But he had chosen to burden himself, to surround himself with boring academics and naïve students, and to stay in the university’s staff housing. He had allowed the SID to interrogate him like a common criminal to protect that part of his life, allowed Zhu Hong and Chu Shuzhi himself to try to pressure a confession out of him. He clearly enjoyed his work. And he cared for Zhao Yunlan.

How unexpected it was, the Envoy having not just a hobby but a whole other profession—one that seemed frivolous in the context of his other responsibilities—but Chu Shuzhi was glad to have learned of it before his departure. It made him appreciate Lord Envoy’s commitment to Dixing all the more, and Chu Shuzhi was truly honoured to be in his confidence.

Over the years, he’d seen something of Lord Envoy’s official work and had twice helped to resettle Dixingren who had to leave Dragon City but were permitted to stay in Haixing. Without realising it, his respect for the great hero of Dixing had expanded to the world as Lord Envoy was shaping it, his values and ideals. When Lord Envoy cast him off and sent him away, Chu Shuzhi would continue that work on his own, for Lord Envoy’s sake and for his own. He would follow him even in exile.

He wrung water out of the robes, rinsed them again until the last traces of blood were washed away and took them back to his room to hang on the airing rack to dry.

Lord Envoy was still sleeping, so Chu Shuzhi sat on the floor next to the washing, in a band of afternoon sun between the wardrobe and the window, and soon dozed off.

He bolted awake to the sense of a malevolent presence, scrambled to his feet almost before he’d opened his eyes, and readied his power. He’d forgotten to lock the door after doing the laundry, and it stood slightly ajar. Lord Envoy was gone from the bed. “Daren?”

There was no answer.

Heaped beside the bed, in a wispy cloud of poisonous green gas, were the poultices. That was where the sinister sensation was coming from. Could someone have stripped them off and abducted Lord Envoy without waking Chu Shuzhi? How would Chu Shuzhi find him? Maybe the neighbours had seen something. He hurried into the hallway—and stopped dead.

The old lady from next door, Grandmother Cheng, was shuffling along the hall in her green quilted jacket, staunchly supporting Lord Envoy, who towered over her even in stocking feet. Chu Shuzhi exclaimed, and Lord Envoy stumbled slightly, but he caught himself before he fell, and the fact that he was up and walking at all was cause for celebration. Chu Shuzhi guessed he’d needed to use the bathroom and felt well enough to make his own way but had found the trip back too onerous to manage alone.

The two of them were exchanging pleasantries as they came slowly up the hall, and Chu Shuzhi held back from intervening. Lord Envoy would let him know if he was needed.

By the time they reached Chu Shuzhi’s door, they’d fallen quiet, apparently needing all their energy to finish the journey, but they made it.

“It was good to meet you, Grandmother Cheng,” said Lord Envoy, his voice rasping.

She smiled and patted his arm, then peered up at Chu Shuzhi. “Do you need more pears?”

“No.” Chu Shuzhi took over supporting Lord Envoy and helped him inside and back to the bed. Too late, he realised he should have taken the opportunity to change the bedding, but Lord Envoy didn’t lie down again. He sat on the foot of the bed with his back against the wall and his legs outstretched. “I’d like some water.”

Chu Shuzhi poured a fresh cupful, and Lord Envoy drank it without aid. When he was done, he said, “Chu Shuzhi, if anything happens to me, I need you to finish gathering the Hallows so the wormhole can open.”

Chu Shuzhi almost knocked the pitcher over. “You said the medicine was working.”

“It is.” And yes, he was speaking more easily, and the colour was coming back to his face despite his recent exertion. “But the enemy is sly and ruthless—what he did to Lin Yusen is proof of that. We don’t know what his next attack will be. I will take you to Dixing, but I’ll arrange for you to receive word if I should fall. In that event, will you return and protect Zhao Yunlan and the timeline until the Hallows are gathered?”

Chu Shuzhi looked at his hands, eyes stinging. The Envoy could die. After today, the possibility was all too real, and Chu Shuzhi wouldn’t be here to stop it, or to avenge Lord Envoy’s death. That wasn’t right! And in spite of the day’s disasters, Lord Envoy was depending on him to ensure the safe passage of history and protect the one Lord Envoy held dear. It was still a kind of trust. A burden, too, a small voice whispered in his head. If the possibility of one day returning remained in his peripheral vision, a constant hope and fear for what it signified, then how could he hope to build a new life for himself in Dixing?

“I’m sorry to ask it of you,” said Lord Envoy.

“It’s not that.” Chu Shuzhi shook away the jumble of apprehension and despair and looked at the request from Lord Envoy’s point of view. How heavily Lord Envoy was relying on him and on the slim chance that he might succeed where the Black-Cloaked Envoy himself had failed. Was there really no one else to entrust with this duty?

Chu Shuzhi had already heard the answer to that this morning. Since then he’d broken his promise despite all his best intentions, and he would pay the price for that, accept his banishment. But to make a new promise—to risk failing Lord Envoy again, this time knowing how vast the stakes were—it was not something to do lightly.

He wanted to remind Lord Envoy that he wasn’t worthy. Was tempted to find an excuse to leave for Dixing at once. His hands clenched at his sides. He was fallible, and it would cost the world too much if he couldn’t live up to Lord Envoy’s expectations. Lord Envoy should find someone else—but he was asking Chu Shuzhi, and there had always only been one possible answer. “Of course, Daren. I remain ever at your service.”

It was much easier to read Lord Envoy without his mask; his gratitude was written plainly on his face, unnecessary though it was. “I hope you know I count you a friend and ally,” he said. “And I hope we will stay in touch after you return to Dixing.”

“I don’t understand.” What kind of exile did Lord Envoy envisage for him? It was supposed to be a punishment. How could they be friends?

“Zhao Yunlan was right,” Lord Envoy continued, half to himself. “The SID needs you. I need you here. I do wish there were something I could do to make you happy here, so our arrangement could continue. But I won’t pressure you, since it’s not what you want.”

“I’ve been happy.” Chu Shuzhi was too confused to hold it in. “Working for you and at the SID has been the greatest honour of my life, Daren.”

Not that that said much, given what had gone before, but he meant it anyway, with all his heart.

Lord Envoy was staring at Chu Shuzhi, a crease between his eyebrows. “Then—why do you want to leave?”

“I don’t. I—” Chu Shuzhi broke off. Surely Lord Envoy couldn’t have forgotten. Unless—perhaps the poisonous gas had interfered with his memory. Did Chu Shuzhi really have to recite his betrayal aloud and witness again Lord Envoy’s disapproval and dismay? It was excruciating. He spoke quickly, to get it over with. “This morning, Daren. I pledged I wouldn’t let anyone learn of your injuries, especially not the SID, and I failed. Utterly. I called Xiao Guo myself for assistance to bring you here, and then half the team came knocking on my door, one after the other. It was the worst fu—screw-up imaginable. I broke your trust. Of course, I must be sent away.”

“Chu Shuzhi.” Lord Envoy’s eyes had widened. He was rightly appalled at Chu Shuzhi’s confession. He must indeed have suffered a lapse of memory and only now been reminded.

Chu Shuzhi hung his head. “Do with me whatever you wish, Daren.”

“Chu Shuzhi, listen to me, you have my trust. You never lost it.” Lord Envoy sounded so definite, saying those incongruous words, that Chu Shuzhi had to look up. The truth was plain on his face: he meant it. “You have always been loyal, and I will not send you back to Dixing against your will. Don’t you know that?”

Chu Shuzhi flushed. He hadn’t meant to insult his benefactor. But none of this made sense. “This morning, you said you would.”

It had been more than reasonable, a mercifully light sentence when in truth he’d deserved execution. Except—except Lord Envoy didn’t seem to think that at all.

“You asked it of me. And I thought—” Lord Envoy rubbed his temple, tiredly. When his hand dropped, he searched Chu Shuzhi’s face. “I feared I’d misunderstood all this time. That you’d spent your years here unhappily, working for me under sufferance. That you believed it to be your only alternative to the Regent’s torture.”

Chu Shuzhi gaped. The room seemed to tilt precariously, and he put out a hand to steady himself. “That—it couldn’t be further from the truth, Daren.”

He looked away, ashamed. He had misunderstood Lord Envoy so badly and allowed Lord Envoy to doubt his loyalty. He wanted to blame the poison gas dulling his senses—dulling both of their senses! But his persistent worry about Lord Envoy’s injuries and the horrible feeling of having broken his promise had probably been just as much to blame. Even with the Envoy’s assurances, that feeling persisted.

Perhaps Lord Envoy could tell. He placed his hands formally on his knees. “Chu Shuzhi, Zhao Yunlan was right about the SID needing you. He was right about something else—I asked too much of you this morning. Under the circumstances, you handled the situation admirably. You guarded my secret as well as you were able.”

Chu Shuzhi closed his eyes to hold back scalding tears. Lord Envoy didn’t resent him or blame him for his failure. He wasn’t going to punish him at all! It hadn’t occurred to Chu Shuzhi that forgiveness might be possible, nor that Zhao Yunlan’s speech had been anything more than self-serving rhetoric. He hadn’t allowed himself to believe that the fault might be with the circumstances, rather than himself. But Lord Envoy wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.

“Moreover,” added Lord Envoy, quietly, “I likely would have died today without your care.”

There was no holding the tears back, then. Chu Shuzhi buried his face in his sleeve and took a deep, ragged breath. The cold sick weight in his stomach was dispelled at last.

When he could compose himself, he raised his head. Lord Envoy’s eyes were reddened, too, perhaps out of sympathy.

Chu Shuzhi swallowed. “You still have use for me here?”

“You’re not a weapon to be used,” said Lord Envoy, and then, with infinite patience, “Chu Shuzhi, the choice is yours.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, both the hope answered with such kindness, and the absurd, horrifying realisation that, earlier, Lord Envoy had been prepared to send him away despite needing him here, despite Zhao Yunlan’s petitioning, because he’d believed it was what Chu Shuzhi wanted.

His wishes had never mattered before. Most of the time, he was barely aware of having them. But today he knew exactly what he wanted: to continue the work that meant so much, with the people who had become his team. To keep serving the Envoy. To be of use. He was a weapon—or if not a weapon, a tool for the Envoy to wield.

He shouldn’t want anything that hadn’t been chosen for him. The words that sprang to his lips tasted like sedition because they were his own. But the Envoy had asked, so he said them anyway. “I want to stay, to keep working at the SID.” With Xiao Guo and Zhao Yunlan and the others. “And to continue to serve you.”

Lord Envoy let out a breath, as if he couldn’t keep it in. It was unreal.

Chu Shuzhi leaned back against the wardrobe, weak with gratitude, all his worries evaporating like so much noxious green gas. The Envoy was well on the way to recovery, his own position here in Haixing was secure, and the Envoy had even spoken of friendship.

He couldn’t say thank you. If he tried, he’d start crying again. And he couldn’t remain still. He jumped to his feet. “I’ll make tea.”

“I’d appreciate that,” said Lord Envoy, after a pause, accepting this change of subject. “And is there any more pear? My appetite is returning.”

Ten minutes later, when Lord Envoy had finished eating, Chu Shuzhi took the empty plate and handed him a cup of tea, then sat back down on the floor across from his benefactor. Lord Envoy had peeled the sticking-plaster from the back of his hand, and there was no mark where the IV had been, just unblemished skin.

Lord Envoy blew on his tea, sipped, and lowered the cup. “Since we’re speaking openly, and if it isn’t an intrusion, may I ask why you moved here from the other apartment?”

The suddenness of the inquiry gave Chu Shuzhi a lurching feeling as if he’d missed his footing. He flushed. “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful, Daren. This was all I needed.”

Lord Envoy smiled with what looked like wry recognition. He glanced around at the bare walls and the ugly old wardrobe that loomed on its side. “Something Kunlun taught me all those years ago is that there’s more to life than bare necessities. It was an important lesson for those of us who grew up in times of hardship. You can’t become a great person unless you let love into your heart. You have to allow yourself to care—for others and for yourself.”

“That’s why you became a professor?” Chu Shuzhi wasn’t sure about that. Lord Envoy was an intimidatingly impressive person in his own right. He didn’t need to prove himself to anyone. But then, being Professor Shen didn’t seem to be about proof—if it were, he wouldn’t keep it a secret. Rather, he gave every sign of being happy among his books and his students. He cared. Did it make him a better leader? Chu Shuzhi turned it over in his mind, and the answer was self-evident: for someone whose role was to judge the motives and preoccupations of others, how could it not?

Lord Envoy nodded absently and took another drink, his attention moving on to other matters. “I’m very glad you’ve chosen to stay, and I look forward to our continuing to work together. However, there is one complication.”

Chu Shuzhi lowered his cup and rested it on his knee, bracing himself. He should have known things couldn’t be so easy. But whatever this hitch was, whatever it took, he would get through it.

“I’ve told you how important my secret is, what hangs in the balance. If you stay, you’ll have to treat Zhao Yunlan as you’ve always done, giving no sign of what you’ve learned. And you’ll have to continue to treat me—Professor Shen—as a stranger, just as you did in the interrogation room. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Daren,” said Chu Shuzhi. “I won’t let you down.”

Lord Envoy raised his eyebrows, serious, making it a warning. “Everything hinges on this. You must be sure.” He leaned forward, coughing at the movement. “I don’t want to ask this of you if it’s more than you can manage.”

Chu Shuzhi dropped his gaze and made himself think it through. Treating Zhao Yunlan as Zhao Yunlan was no problem—it was hard enough to believe he’d ever become General Kunlun that Chu Shuzhi could simply put that knowledge aside. And as for Professor Shen—Lord Envoy was sitting there in simple clothes, with one braid falling forward over his shoulder. Once his hair was short and he was wearing his glasses, the resemblance would be noticeable but not startling. But the idea of being casually dismissive to Lord Envoy in any guise made him cringe inwardly, even if it was requested and necessary—even as a way of honouring his wishes—

“I can do it, Daren, but—” He flushed. “It will be easier if we could continue to meet as we have been, only more regularly.”

So he could gauge the Envoy’s reaction to his behaviour and reassure himself he hadn’t overstepped or angered him. So he could apologise if necessary.

“Would every second week be enough?” asked Lord Envoy, as if they were making a business arrangement, rather than Chu Shuzhi imposing on his spare time.

“That’s—” It was a generous offer, but Chu Shuzhi made himself stop and consider all the same. Fortnightly would be ideal—often enough to keep him on track and provide opportunities to confer if anything needed to be discussed. “Yes. That would work. If it’s not too much to ask.”

“It’s for both our benefit,” said Lord Envoy, and Chu Shuzhi felt lighter than he had all day—lighter than he could remember feeling in a long time, really. Filled with hope and resolve. He could do this. He could help Lord Envoy keep the timeline on its path and, in doing so, protect his friends.

Lord Envoy was regarding him thoughtfully. “Would you like to practice?”

“Daren?”

“Treating me as Professor Shen,” said Lord Envoy.

Chu Shuzhi nearly scoffed aloud, but—Lord Envoy was offering. And it would be safer to try it out in private. He couldn’t afford to stammer like Xiao Guo or trip over his tongue the next time he met Professor Shen at the SID. He nodded.

Lord Envoy closed his eyes and spread his hands. A swirl of dark energy gathered around him, and when it had dispersed, his long hair was replaced with the professor’s short cut, and the round glasses were on his face. There was a subtle shift to his expression, too—he suddenly looked as young as his assumed age, as curious as a cat, as studious and intellectual as a philosopher.

“Professor Shen,” said Chu Shuzhi. It felt outrageous, knowing what he knew. He wasn’t sure whether to meet Lord Envoy’s eye, or how polite to be. “I take it you’re feeling better. That’s good news.”

“Lao Chu, excuse me for imposing on you today.” Professor Shen’s tone was calm, but lighter than the Envoy’s measured speech.

These comparisons weren’t helpful. Chu Shuzhi needed to separate the roles, view the professor as a completely different person. Zhao Yunlan would certainly notice if he did it poorly, and heaven only knew what interpretation he’d put on it. Chu Shuzhi took a deep breath and let it out. He stood up and loomed slightly over the professor—not enough to threaten, but enough to imply that he could.

“Professor Shen,” he repeated, eyes narrowing as he stepped into his role. He’d never cared for academics or other respectable types, and the last time he’d met the professor was in the interview room at the SID being a model of polite defiance. “Here you are. Zhao Yunlan has been looking for you all day.”

Chapter Text

When Chu Shuzhi arrived at the SID, Wang Zheng was on the phone and Zhao Yunlan was sitting on the table, scowling over some papers.

“Chu-ge!” Xiao Guo jumped up and started forward.

Before he could say more, Wang Zheng hung up the phone and told Zhao Yunlan, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “The university confirmed that Professor Shen has checked in, and he expects to be back at work tomorrow.”

Zhao Yunlan’s shoulders visibly eased, and he jumped down from the table and pointed an accusing finger at Chu Shuzhi. “You said you were going to Dixing.”

“You said you needed me here,” said Chu Shuzhi, matching his tone.

Zhao Yunlan stared at him, waiting for more, then nodded. “Good.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the back of the couch. “How’s Hei Pao Shi? Has he recovered?”

“Enough to travel to the palace in Dixing for proper treatment.” Chu Shuzhi had been prepared for the question and planned his answer with the Envoy, but as he said it, he was acutely aware it was a lie, and that Zhao Yunlan was still watching him.

So it was actually a relief when Zhu Hong sat back from her computer and shrieked, “What? You never said your friend was Hei Pao Shi! If I’d known—”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” interrupted Chu Shuzhi. “None of you were. And he’s not my friend—not like that. Obviously. Show some respect!”

“Oh,” breathed Xiao Guo. “Oh, I thought—” He broke off, blushing.

“Anyway,” continued Chu Shuzhi, before Xiao Guo could say anything embarrassing or unthinkingly irreverent, “I owe you and Xiao Guo my thanks. Without your help, the outcome could have gone very badly.”

“Yes, you definitely owe me one,” said Zhu Hong, coming over, her arms folded. “But at least I got to see that dump you live in.”

“It’s a perfectly serviceable—” started Chu Shuzhi.

“You know, Lin Jing said something about needing a flatmate,” she said, ignoring his objection.

Chu Shuzhi rolled his eyes. Given the state of the lab, Chu Shuzhi dreaded to think what kind of state his flat would be in. “I’d rather live in an old tenement than in absolute squalor.”

He expected Zhu Hong to scold him further, but she’d fallen silent. He turned to see why.

Professor Shen was walking into the room, without his usual firm steady tread but otherwise perfectly himself. Chu Shuzhi quickly looked away and headed for his desk to find something to busy himself with, but heard him say, “Chief Zhao, they said you were asking for me at the university.”

“Professor Shen!” Zhao Yunlan’s tone was a touch too loud and overly hearty. “Where have you been?”

“I was laid up with a migraine today. It came on suddenly, quite inconvenient.” The professor sounded convincingly wan.

“Come in, come in, sit down,” said Zhao Yunlan. “Wang Zheng, bring some tea.” Footsteps as the two men approached the couch. Chu Shuzhi watched his computer boot up. “You know, you weren’t the only one sick today, professor. Must be something in the water.”

Chu Shuzhi felt as if Zhao Yunlan’s eyes were boring into the side of his face, unlikely as that seemed. He opened his desk drawer and rummaged in it for snacks. Then, conveniently, Da Qing came by. “Deputy, how’s your head after last night? Do you still have a headache, too?”

“I’m not even hungry,” grumbled Da Qing. “I just wanted to curl up and sleep today, but Lao Zhao had us traipsing all over the university.” He cast a reproachful look towards Zhao Yunlan and, when he saw Professor Shen on the couch, hugged the folder he was carrying closer to his chest.

Chu Shuzhi hoped Zhao Yunlan had drawn the desired conclusion: that even if Professor Shen’s headache wasn’t a true migraine, it might be a symptom of exposure to Zhang Danni’s gas. It would add to the weight of circumstantial evidence that the professor was Dixingren but not directly link his identity to the Black-Cloaked Envoy.

“Next time, let me know so I don’t turn Dragon City upside-down searching for you,” Zhao Yunlan told Professor Shen, and Chu Shuzhi risked a casual glance and saw him sitting on the arm of the couch, right next to Professor Shen, and Professor Shen’s obvious pleasure at his company. “But I’m sorry to hear you were suffering. I know what that’s like.” He rubbed his stomach absently.

“What’s that?” asked Zhu Hong in an undertone, from right by his desk. It made Chu Shuzhi startle a little, but she was speaking to Da Qing and neither of them noticed.

Da Qing leaned in and whispered, “Lao Zhao had me search the professor’s dorm rooms for clues to his whereabouts, and I found this dossier on the SID.”

“Really? He has information on us?” Zhu Hong frowned. “So suspicious. What’s he up to?”

“It’s an official file,” said Da Qing, angling it to show her the cover.

Chu Shuzhi turned back to his computer without saying anything, but he made a mental note to tell Lord Envoy when next they met.

“Chu-ge,” said Xiao Guo, from the other end of his desk. He was fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. “You’re—you’re not mad? I know you didn’t want anyone to—”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Chu Shuzhi swivelled to face him. He was a good kid, and he’d done everything that had been asked of him, as well as he’d been able. And Chu Shuzhi hadn’t forgotten his silent, thoughtful replenishment of the water pitcher. “You helped. I really am grateful.”

“Oh.” A wide smile bloomed on Xiao Guo’s face, until he was glowing. “No, no, it was nothing.”

Chu Shuzhi huffed a laugh, fondness kindling at the kid’s shy pleasure. It was so easy to cast him down or brighten him up—it only took a few words. Chu Shuzhi almost envied him his openness, and he realised he liked having the kid around, not just because he could intimidate him into obeying, but because he was kind and considerate, and he believed Chu Shuzhi was a good person. Even without Lord Envoy and the SID, it would have been worth staying in Haixing to have a friend and mentee like Xiao Guo. Not that he’d admit it.

“Okay, it was nothing,” he teased, gruffly. “So I shouldn’t buy you fishcakes next time you’re hungry? I won’t then.”

Xiao Guo starting tying himself in knots in his eagerness to get his reward without admitting he’d helped, and Chu Shuzhi rolled his eyes, smiling, and was about to actually get some work done—he still hadn’t written his field report about the night before—when he heard Professor Shen’s name and realised Wang Zheng and Lin Jing had arrived and were gossiping in undertones with Da Qing and Zhu Hong behind him. About the professor and Zhao Yunlan.

“Chief Zhao is being so obvious,” said Wang Zheng. “He must be much more in love. I can’t even tell if Professor Shen likes him like that. Do you think Chief Zhao stands a chance with him?”

Chu Shuzhi scoffed before he could stop himself. Zhao Yunlan’s interest was nothing compared to Lord Envoy’s steadfast ten thousand years. But of course, the others didn’t know that. Couldn’t know that.

“Lao Chu?” Wang Zheng raised her eyebrows. “You don’t agree?”

“You don’t really think Professor Shen likes him?” Zhu Hong’s arms were tightly crossed.

They were all looking at him. Chu Shuzhi’s palms went sweaty at the thought of the secret he had above all to guard, but they were only talking about Professor Shen, not Lord Envoy. He could play this game. He glanced across at Zhao Yunlan and Professor Shen drinking tea on the couch, and Zhao Yunlan fussing over him, and said, “Any idiot can see Professor Shen likes Lao Zhao more than Lao Zhao likes him. He came here to see him, even when he was feeling sick.”

“Lao Chu!” Wang Zheng looked impressed. “You respect Lao Zhao more than I thought!”

Even Da Qing grinned at that.

Chu Shuzhi wanted to argue the point, but he had to let it pass to maintain his cover. Besides, if Zhao Yunlan was Kunlun he deserved respect—or would eventually. “He’s capable.”

Lin Jing snickered and came to tower over Chu Shuzhi’s desk. “So, Lao Chu.” He stood there, fidgeting with a rubber band, until Zhu Hong came up beside him and elbowed him in the ribs, making him flinch. “Ow! Uh, Lao Chu, I heard you might be interested in my spare room?”

Chapter Text

Chu Shuzhi wrapped his pitcher in a towel and wedged it in the box, and then scanned his empty room. The wardrobe looked even darker and more imposing and the lumpy mattress, stripped of bedding, seemed narrower now that everything else had been packed away. The shelves were like skeletal ribs, bare and slightly warped against the old painted walls. Chu Shuzhi had tried again to wipe the stains from the ceiling for the benefit of the next tenant, but without success, and he wasn’t going to go to the trouble of painting when the landlord didn’t care one way or another.

He was about to shoulder his duffel bag and go down to hail a taxi when there was a knock on the door. Probably Grandmother Cheng needed something taken down from a high shelf. He’d asked Xiao Hua down the hall to lend a hand when she needed it, but of course she’d try here first.

But when he opened the door, half the SID team were crowded in the hallway—Xiao Guo, Zhu Hong, Lin Jing, and the deputy chief.

They shoved inside without waiting for an invitation, and deputy chief looked around, nose wrinkled. “Ugh, how long have you been living like this?”

“What did I tell you?” Zhu Hong looked vindicated. “It’s even worse without the wardrobe in the middle of the room, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“It’s not that bad!” Chu Shuzhi was only moving now because Lin Jing’s place was closer to the SID, Lin Jing worked such long hours it would be like having half a flatmate rather than a whole one, and there was room in the yard for a vegetable garden.

When he’d mentioned the last point, earlier in the week, Xiao Guo had exclaimed in surprise. “I didn’t know you liked gardening, Chu-ge. My aunt’s friend sells seeds and herbs—I’m sure she’ll give you a discount.”

The offer had left Chu Shuzhi stumped. He’d never expected Guo Changcheng, who after all came from a highly respectable Haixing family, to want Chu Shuzhi to have anything to do with his relatives and their friends.

And now everyone was crowded in his tiny room. “What are you all doing here?”

Zhu Hong held her phone up. “I promised Wang Zheng I’d take pictures, since she couldn’t be here herself.”

“We came to help you move,” said Lin Jing, as if it were self-evident.

Deputy chief stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “If Hei Pao Shi had any gratitude for the other day, he’d be here helping out, too. Then we could just throw everything through a portal.”

Chu Shuzhi glared at him until he covered his mouth guiltily, and then they all turned to regard the bed, where Chu Shuzhi’s worldly possessions were packed and gathered—one large box, a duffle-bag of clothes, and his doll.

“Look who offered to come and help you move!” said Zhao Yunlan from the open doorway. At his side was Professor Shen in pristine pale slacks and a zip-up sweater. Zhao Yunlan had slung a friendly arm across his shoulders, and the professor looked relaxed and quietly impressive, with a hint of reserve. Compared to the assorted indecorous members of the SID, he couldn’t have been more out of place.

Not to mention there was barely room for them to come inside.

Professor Shen nodded to everyone including Chu Shuzhi from the doorway, and Chu Shuzhi thought there might eventually come a day when they could speak openly, he and the professor, without anyone suspecting. But that wouldn’t be today. Zhao Yunlan was already sticking his head around the door, assessing the situation. “Eh, we’ll wait in the car. Take your time. I’m parked out front.”

“I still don’t know what you’re all doing here,” muttered Chu Shuzhi, after the two of them had retreated, but he couldn’t deny a secret warmth at the effort the SID was making. When he’d moved into this place, he’d done it alone one rainy night after work, via taxi.

“We came to help,” said Xiao Guo, stubbornly. “The wardrobe? The bed? You can’t carry those by yourself.”

“They came with the room.”

Xiao Guo visibly wilted and then glanced in the corner. “The airing rack?”

“That is mine,” admitted Chu Shuzhi.

He’d been planning to leave it behind, but Xiao Guo grabbed it before the words were out of Chu Shuzhi’s mouth, as if he were afraid the deputy or Zhu Hong would get there first.

Chu Shuzhi snorted to hide a swell of affection, shoved the box into Lin Jing’s waiting arms, and picked up the duffel bag and the doll himself. That was it. He was done with this place. It was time to make a new life for himself. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Chu Shuzhi was waiting in the meeting place, under a vast night sky. The air was fresh, smelling of healthy earth and growth, and the trees rustled softly. An owl hooted somewhere to his left, but it fell silent when the Envoy’s portal opened.

The portal hung on the other side of the clearing for a trembling few seconds, its absolute blackness emphasising the ambient haze created by the city lights. Then Lord Envoy stepped out in robes and mask, and the portal vanished.

“Chu Shuzhi, you’re here already.”

It was a Sunday night. Two weeks and three days had passed since the Envoy’s illness, ten days since Chu Shuzhi moved into Lin Jing’s flat. He’d seen Professor Shen twice more, though they hadn’t spoken, but this was his first meeting with the Envoy, and he’d been looking forward to it with some uncertainty. Disregarding the Envoy’s status when he appeared in his other guise was one thing, and Chu Shuzhi didn’t think he’d given offence for following their plan, but he hadn’t known how it would be when they met again like this.

If their relationship would continue as it had been all along. If that moment of startling accord and understanding had been an aberration borne of relief at Lord Envoy’s healing and Chu Shuzhi’s decision to stay in Haixing. Or if, having confided in him, Lord Envoy would treat him differently.

Lord Envoy walked over. “I’m late. My apologies.”

That was new and strange. Lord Envoy had never apologised to him before all this. Chu Shuzhi stood straight and bowed his head. “Not at all, Daren.”

The darkness blurred as the Envoy raised his robed arm and removed his mask. He even gave a small smile. “How has it been?”

“Very well.” It took Chu Shuzhi a breathless moment to shore up his composure. “Well, aside from Lin Jing’s cooking habits.” Or lack thereof.

Lord Envoy laughed softly. “And Zhao Yunlan?”

Chu Shuzhi paused. Anyone else, and he would have teased them for asking, but—he couldn’t joke at Lord Envoy’s expense. Besides, the Envoy’s feelings were far too deep and long-standing to joke about. “I don’t think he’s noticed anything amiss.”

The Envoy’s eyes were shadowed by his hood, but he seemed pleased. “You’re doing well.”

He turned to one of the paths, gesturing to Chu Shuzhi to join him.

Chu Shuzhi scanned their surroundings as they walked, alert for spies. The walkways and even the trees were empty. “Daren, I have information that might be useful.”

Lord Envoy’s relaxed air vanished. “Speak.”

“I visited Grandmother Cheng yesterday.” He felt the Envoy’s questioning gaze and explained, “Her son is in prison. She’s all alone.”

“I remember.”

“Her son wrote, telling her to stay away from the derelict warehouses a few streets north of the tenement. There’s been talk among the inmates. They say someone lives there who even the most hardened criminals are afraid of. I thought, perhaps—”

They still didn’t know who had corrupted Lin Yusen’s energy and turned him into a bomb. Over the last two weeks, Chu Shuzhi had spent his off-hours trying to build up a picture of the kid’s last day, where he’d been, who he’d met with. He’d had no luck at all until, by chance, Grandmother Cheng mentioned the rumours. The two things might be completely unrelated, he might be clutching at straws out of sheer frustration—or it might be a lead.

Lord Envoy must have been thinking along the same lines. His head came up, decisive and stern. “We should investigate. Do you have time?”

This was definitely new. In the past, the Envoy had always chosen to face danger alone. No doubt the change in strategy was due to the degree of threat, but regardless, it was an honour to be permitted to assist.

Lin Jing had been lost in a computer game when Chu Shuzhi left. There were good odds he hadn’t even noticed his departure. And if he asked, Chu Shuzhi could easily come up with an excuse.

“Yes, of course.”

“Good.” Without further delay, Lord Envoy put on his mask and opened a portal. Chu Shuzhi followed him through.

END