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At times, one might wonder if Nanjiang was a tad too calm for Beiyuan’s taste, just a bit too relaxed. Not in the usual sense, no– the people here were a stark contrast from those in the Great Qing, not afraid to laugh with their entire stomachs and never shying away from a friendly slap on the back, a shove in the arm, what have you. Those who played music played it loud, and those who sang let their voices ring out as far as the wind could take them. It wasn’t as if everybody was familiar with everybody else, but– there was a sense of camaraderie, some unspoken tether linking them together like some sort of invisible web with Wu Xi at the center. It wasn’t as if Beiyuan had doubted him when Wu Xi had told him about the people he had waiting for him back home, but it still caught him a little off guard to see it with his own eyes. There had been no such thing in the Great Qing. Your family was your family and your friends were your friends, but even they weren’t guaranteed to link wrists with you like this. Whether water or blood was thicker, neither made a difference in the eyes of the hungry. Power, in all its suits, was quite the motivator.
But it isn’t that that might enable one to think Beiyuan… bored, for lack of better word. There was plenty to do here, plenty of people to meet, wine to drink, food to eat. And Lu Ta had tacked on enough years to manage a half-day more of free time from his father’s lessons, though more rigorous than before for the same reason, so Beiyuan took great pleasure in dawdling around with him in the streets; a boy at fourteen still growing into his own body, he was unaware of what the giggles and stolen glances of girls and boys both at him really meant when he went out. Beiyuan just hid a smile behind his sleeve and carried on as usual.
That was another thing– with Lu Ta already past the age old enough to speak whatever words he chose, conversations with his more laissez-faire father were much more engaging than before. Lu Ta took after Wu Xi with his straightforwardness, but having spent ten years of his life around a man with a tongue too honeyed for his own good, he had a tendency towards more purplish words than many of his peers. That wasn’t to say he had the capability Beiyuan did to run verbal circles around others, though; but even if he did, he probably wouldn’t. Just like Wu Xi, Lu Ta was too kindhearted for his own good.
...So Beiyuan would say, but his heart would still swell with pride when his son would help someone up by the side of the road and insist on cleaning the scrape on their knee for them, when he would cradle an injured animal in his hands and carry it home to nurse it back to health. Just like his father indeed. Blood related or not, Beiyuan would swear even the way Lu Ta’s hair fell down his back resembled that of his husband.
But that was his own business.
So one would think, hm, shouldn’t this be enough? Was there really a need for anything more? Surely, even Prince Nan’ning could be satisfied with this much. And they’d be right– Beiyuan was satisfied, and he was happy. This wasn’t something he’d ever been afforded before; nothing had even come close, and he was bent on savoring it for as long as time would allow. Yet even so… there was an odd tug in his chest, a familiar thing poking at him just below his ribs, even now. It wasn’t anything like homesickness, obviously not, but rather, well.
Old habits always die hard, don’t they?
To be fair, it wasn’t like he meant to not have noticed the single uneven plank and tripped forward over it. It wasn’t like he meant to knock over a vial of something blue-grey in his journey to the ground, and it wasn’t like he meant for it to splatter onto his cheek and trickle down to the corner of his mouth. He’d just been peckish for something new. And snooping around was still a hobby he’d held onto, but it had soon been made clear that his skills had gotten rusty with disuse. And thus the folly of man; or, more fitting, the folly of child.
Wu Xi had only stepped out of his study just moments before, and Lu Ta was out in the forest with a group of other kids his age hunting, so nobody had heard Beiyuan’s fall; the servants usually strayed away from Wu Xi’s study during the day, and often at night too if he was busy to keep out of his way. But he soon returns, a sheaf of paper in hand, and startles at the pile of his husband’s robes on the floor. And– you can’t really blame him for his mind jumping to explicit conclusions, can you– but there’s an odd lump amongst said clothes, and it’s… moving?
"Beiyuan?” He ventures, gingerly stepping forward to draw back the fabric– and as if summoned by name, a head of inky black hair pops out from beneath, and– the child looks up at him, wide doe eyes blinking through dark lashes.
Wu Xi stares at it. The child stares back at him, then opens its mouth. “Who are you?” He asks. Wu Xi continues to stare.
“…Beiyuan?” He tries again, making a valiant attempt to keep the alarm out of his voice. The kid raises an eyebrow at him that effectively wipes the doubt from his mind like mud from a stone. He forces his breath not to catch. “Who are you?” He asks again, tone challenging, but his attempt at a threatening air doesn’t really hold up what with the robes he’s swimming in and his tiny stature. Wu Xi takes a deep breath and attempts to school his expression into something friendly that a child wouldn’t feel put off by. Perhaps you should’ve taken lessons from me about that, a voice eerily reminiscent of his husband murmurs in his brain. That wouldn’t be necessary if you weren’t too curious for your own good, he thinks hysterically.
"My name is Wu Xi.” He manages, hesitating as to where to go from there. “I’m… a friend, of your father.” The lie is totally transparent, but Wu Xi banks on whatever age Beiyuan has regressed to doesn’t possess the staggering mental fortitude he already did when they first met. The child– Beiyuan looks at him dubiously regardless. Wu Xi scrambles to recall every scrap his husband had told him about his late family, and adds, “Senior Prince Nan’ning asked me to take care of you for a while.”
The familiar title tends to ease him somewhat. He looks around, drinking in the shelves stuffed with books and bottles of this and that, Wu Xi’s cluttered desk with fresh ink drying into its stone and brush going sticky with lack of proper cleaning, the sunlight pouring in through the window and cloaking the room in pale yellow. Wu Xi prefers to leave the lanterns unlit when it’s still bright outside; it quells his worries, whatever they happen to be that day. “I don’t know this place.” He notes, and despite his immature language it still carries the promise of Beiyuan’s future eloquence. He turns back to Wu Xi then with suspicion renewed. “Where did you take me, Wu-ge?”
Ah, it’s really not good for his heart to hear Beiyuan address him like that no matter what the context. He stamps down heated cheeks and responds, “This is Nanjiang,” a beat, then he adds, “my study. You… went exploring while I was out.” It comes out more as a question than a statement from the way his voice goes up at the end.
Beiyuan considers this. “If Father trusted you to take care of me,” he says with a hmph, "then I want some clothes.”
Wu Xi can’t help it– he smiles despite himself. “Of course.” There’s surely some of Lu Ta’s old garments they haven’t given away yet somewhere around here.
Beiyuan continues to interrogate him as Wu Xi dresses him in clothes Lu Ta had outgrown when he turned seven that fit this younger version of his husband like a glove. Wu Xi answers as best he can if only to ensure he doesn’t look away for a moment to turn back and find that Beiyuan has run off somewhere in an attempt to escape, because– well, for one, he’s not quite sure how he’d explain having acquired a child without having breathed a word of it before. The absence of his husband wouldn’t help his case either, so as a six-year-old Beiyuan walks around just ahead of him (still princely, even now) growing more and more comfortable with every right answer Wu Xi provides, he brainstorms antidotes from recipes off the top of his head. He’d taken note of the vial that’d been knocked to the ground and emptied and identified it while he’d been convincing Beiyuan of who he was, and he recalls the ingredients without much trouble. It’s just an issue of how-- though Beiyuan seems to have relaxed around him, he still strays to clutch a fistful of Wu Xi’s robes when they pass by a servant or the like. It’s terribly cute and it takes near his full willpower not to pat his head, but he does reach down and gently take Beiyuan’s hand in his in an attempt to ease his nerves. Beiyuan’s head snaps up to stare at him when he does, but Wu Xi’s eyes just crinkle at the corners in a small smile when he glances down at him in lieu of words. Beiyuan looks away again, but allows his small hand to be engulfed by Wu Xi’s own.
"You must be important too, if your house is so big.” Beiyuan decides when Wu Xi sits him down for a meal. It’s nearing the late hours of afternoon, the sun beginning to go orange as the sky fades from light and airy blue to muted cerulean, just barely pink and purple. The sunset never fails to impress in spring, bringing with it the flora and fauna that had huddled away into death and slumber in winter. No one in Nanjiang allows the seasons to slow them down, but life still breathes fresh fire into them with its lush return. Wu Xi holds no ill feelings towards winter, but Beiyuan has always loved to sit outside when the weather warms before it goes humid, and he’s always made a picturesque sight.
"You could say that.” Wu Xi replies, placing bamboo shoots and mushrooms into Beiyuan’s bowl. His initial shock has mostly worn off– at this point he’s allowing himself to fall back into his usual doting habits until he catches some time to address the, ahem, issue at hand. “I lead Nanjiang, as the Great Shaman.”
Beiyuan fixes him with a look, and Wu Xi hides his grin behind his cup. He’d looked a little apprehensive about how the dinner fare had looked different than what he was used to (less extravagant, for one, but the vegetables varied somewhat as well), but after watching Wu Xi eat for a moment with no issue he picks up his own chopsticks and begins to too. “What do you do?” He asks between bites. “Do you make laws and stuff, like the emperor?”
Wu Xi thinks of the days he spent in court when he was younger, a hostage in a foreign land with barely any footing to stand on; he thinks of Helian Yi and Beiyuan teetering on the edge of death in his arms, and answers, “A little. The people of Nanjiang aren’t as… political, as the Great Qing. My role is to pass on the word of Gazh.” If Beiyuan notices his somber tone, he doesn’t comment on it. “The bulk of my work is in medicine, though.”
He glances up at him then, familiar curiosity glittering in his black eyes. It strikes Wu Xi like a blade how much he looks like his older self in that moment, the way he’d gaze at Wu Xi when he dropped into the Shamanet Estate to terrorize his animals roaming its courtyard. How he’d look at him when poking at plants and concotions he was unfamiliar with. His lust for knowledge was insatiable, and it seems to be innate. “What kind of medicine?” Beiyuan asks with poorly restrained enthusiasm.
Wu Xi places a piece of giblet in his bowl before responding. “Most that you’d expect; things to treat sickness and protect one’s health.” He puts in another mushroom, ignoring the face Beiyuan pulls. “But others too. Your Great Qing would probably call them spells.”
Beiyuan makes an interested noise, tapping the end of his chopsticks to his lip thoughtfully. “Can you control stuff? Like animals or humans?”
"I wouldn’t say control, but animals are simple-minded creatures.” Wu Xi explains, the sable crossing his mind. He hasn’t seen it around since Beiyuan regressed in age; perhaps it noticed and made itself scarce. It was all but guaranteed to scamper back soon regardless. “There are ways to bargain with them without a specific method. Humans aren’t like that; there are gu that can alter one’s mental state, but saying that you could control someone with one wouldn’t be right.”
Beiyuan eats a bit more before saying anything else, rolling Wu Xi’s words over in his head to decide on what his next words are. “What do those do, then?” A stray grain of rice has made a home at the corner of his upper lip, so Wu Xi reaches over the table and brushes it away with his sleeve. Beiyuan startles slightly but quickly relaxes once he feels it fall away. Another mannerism he carried into his adulthood– he’d never go so far as to call Beiyuan a messy eater, but he definitely didn’t always hold himself to such dignified standards when they shared meals. It’s more endearing than it should be, but that might just be Wu Xi.
He takes a bite himself, nearly full. “Primarily, they highlight someone’s internal desires.” He thinks back to the passion parasite he had let loose the very first time he’d set foot in court and chuckles inwardly. “Some make you speak the truth, or what you think it to be, or your unfiltered thoughts. Some make you see the things you want, but it depends on the poison for what kinds of things those are.” Like a prostitute whose services you’re interested in, he doesn’t say, his lips tugging up at the corners a tad.
The tiny version of his husband sitting across from him ponders this as they finish their meal, and Wu Xi can practically see the gears turning in his head. He has to admit that the lack of one-sided conversation isn’t at all what he’s accustomed to, but obviously a Beiyuan two decades older than this one isn’t going to act all the same, so he allows himself to relax.
It’s right as he’s pouring himself another cup of tea that his ears perk up as he hears footsteps he can identify as Lu Ta’s ambling down the hall. He slides the door open, inclining his head in a gesture that’s enough of a bow to appease Wu Xi’s sense of filial piety, saying, “Teacher, I’m back…” He trails off when he notices Beiyuan, looking at him expectantly. Wu Xi can see him trying to parse the situation from his expression alone, and clears his throat.
"Lu Ta, Prince Nan’ning is our guest. You should greet him as well.” He says pointedly, and Lu Ta stares at him, his mouth dropped partway open. Just go along with it, he desperately tries to get across with his eyes alone. Thankfully his son is still quick on the uptake even now, and turns to the young Beiyuan and dips his head slightly deeper to him. “Good evening, Prince.” He says, and uncertainty taints his words but Beiyuan doesn’t seem to notice. “Good evening.” He says back. He then returns his gaze to Wu Xi, clearly waiting for an explanation as to who Lu Ta is and why he’s here with them.
Wu Xi sighs inwardly. “Prince, this is my son and future successor, Lu Ta.” Beiyuan raises an eyebrow but paints on a polite expression when he turns back to Lu Ta, placating his manners with an, “It’s nice to meet you.” His (future?) son nods in agreement and settles by the table between them. “Did you already eat?” Wu Xi asks, his voice going fond, and Lu Ta nods again. “We roasted some of the rabbits we caught.” He elaborates. “I brought back one of the skins to clean, we split them. There was one extra, though, so He Zhu took two to give one to his sister.”
He pours himself a cup of tea as Beiyuan inquires more about his endeavors in the forest earlier, answering more respectfully than he usually would to heed the loose grasp of the situation Wu Xi had thrown at him without breathing a word. Wu Xi is relieved to not be necessary to conversation, taking this chance to muse on an antidote. The solution that had regressed Beiyuan back this far was still a work in progress– just before he’d ushered Beiyuan out still swimming in oversized robes, he’d identified the vial knocked to the floor as such. Luckily the few counterparts to the main components were ones already stored in his study, so though he hadn’t gotten as far as making an antidote to begin with, there was that. The original thing had only taken an hour to brew and therefore enabled a hopeful spirit in him, but going the other way always leaned towards being more fickle in production and application both than the poisons they counteracted. It would make life hell tomorrow if he were to work on it through the night, but then again– even with spring flouncing back in through open windows, it was already partway through and the initial preparations that Wu Xi oversaw had been finished for the year. His workload lowered back down to its usual amount though still a bit higher from the heightened activity of said season, so– worst case scenario– he could take a day off. Just one won’t hurt, especially if it means he gets to spend it in bed with Beiyuan, an adult Beiyuan. Asleep or not.
Probably asleep, though. If not him then Beiyuan would be.
Towards the tail end of their conversation Lu Ta gathers the empty dishes and sets them on the tray Wu Xi had brought them in on without being asked, and when Wu Xi thanks him he squeezes his shoulder to try and tell him that he’ll explain later. Lu Ta’s eyes flicker up to him with confusion still pooled in their deep brown yet seeming to understand his sentiment, so he lets go and watches his son modestly bow his head once more before slipping out. “He’s nice.” Beiyuan comments after he leaves, not just referring to his demeanor. “You must be proud of him.”
“Yes,” Wu Xi drains his cup, an image of his husband mindlessly swaying to a tune in his head with a young Lu Ta held in his arms flitting through his mind, “I am.”
Beiyuan becomes much more lenient with his belly filled and acquiesces to let Wu Xi leave him in the company of the humble library his older self has been adding to since he first came here years ago, kept in a room adjacent to Wu Xi’s study at his insistence. If I want to dip into yours for an additional something, I don’t want to have to walk across this entire house. Spare your poor wife’s legs, would you? He lingers at the mouth of the threshold for a moment, looking back at him with his legs crossed and a book pillowed in his lap. His hair had escaped its style from that morning when he’d turned young, and his bangs hung free around his temples and the sides of his face. His features still allude to his future striking beauty, even with the baby fat filling his cheeks that contrast his mature demeanor, and Wu Xi forces himself to tear his eyes away to go address what he needs to. Yet it sticks in his mind like feet in thick mud– I wish you hadn’t had to grow up so fast, he thinks. I wish I’d met you sooner.
With him temporarily sated, Wu Xi pulls Lu Ta towards his own quarters to have a private space to update him. He relinquishes the duty of preparing a spare room for the night to one of the servants he passes along the way, and sits opposite his son at the low table in his and Beiyuan’s room once Lu Ta has slid the door shut behind them.
“He ingested the regression potion I’ve been tweaking while poking around my study.” He explains, leaving the again unsaid. Lu Ta immediately catches on; “That one hadn’t taken too long to steep, right? Will an antidote take long?”
Wu Xi crosses his arms and taps his fingers on his bicep in thought. “I’m hoping not.” He admits. “The ingredients and portions themselves shouldn’t be a problem at least, the necessary counteractives are all things that have already been preserved. I’d like to get started as soon as possible, so you’ll have to accompany your father for the rest of the night and to where he’ll sleep.” A drop or two of the original solution might be a good idea, almost like a vaccine– if I recall correctly, there was some left in the vial when I put it back…
Lu Ta agrees without missing a beat. “Of course, Teacher.” Only then does he hesitate, and Wu Xi glances over at him from where he’d been watching the candle that’d been lit with unfocused eyes while lost in thought. “Will… will it affect Father, do you think? As in, do you think he’ll remember it as a past memory?” His uncertainty gives voice to Wu Xi’s own.
He weighs the possibilities– the regression potion isn’t something that he’d tested on a human before, obviously– he hadn’t even tested it on anything more than a few plants. It sounds like something not worth the worry when considering the fantastical idea of altering one’s memories to that extent to begin with, but. De-aging to begin with was already a pretty fantastical concept, wasn’t it?
"I’m not sure.” Wu Xi confesses, having no better answer despite his shared concern. “The only one who’d know is Beiyuan when he reverts to the correct age.”
Lu Ta obviously isn’t satisfied with that, but he knows just as well as Wu Xi does that speculating on it with nothing to lead him down the right path is a fool’s errand, so he deflates in deference. “Do you think it’ll be finished by morning?” He asks, metaphorical fingers clearly crossed for a yes.
Wu Xi sighs. “I hope so. I believe it will, but you know these things are unpredictable.”
Lu Ta’s shoulders droop slightly, but he straightens back up within seconds, because he does know. “I’ll go stay with Father, then, so Teacher can begin his work.” He declares, and Wu Xi smiles despite himself. Beiyuan loved to gripe about how he missed being able to carry Lu Ta in his arms when he was little even though he took a frankly massive amount of pleasure in spending time with a now teenaged Lu Ta; Wu Xi has to admit to himself then that his feelings on the matter are similar. He was a cute child no matter how serious he came off, that much goes without saying, but pride still unfurls in his chest whenever Lu Ta does anything remotely leader-like. It lends to him a vision of the future, easing the ripples on the surface of his heart to tranquility even now.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He says in informal dismissal, standing himself to return to his study as Lu Ta exits. There’s still urgency in his brisk pace as he walks back, yes, but when he takes a seat at his desk his hands still before retrieving the documents he needs. This younger Beiyuan’s wide eyes flutter through his thoughts, his hand fisted in Wu Xi’s robes and enveloped by Wu Xi’s own, his speech still attempting eloquence but unmistakably childish and charming if only from that alone– so Wu Xi pulls out a fresh piece of paper, grinds his ink, and brandishes a brush to save a reminder just for himself. All those years of composing two-dimensional replicas of every living thing he caught a glimpse of, poured into one careful line after another. Spread across the paper like a memory, just one. He only spares himself one quiet skim before setting it aside to dry and getting down to business.
It does end up taking longer than projected, two hours alone just getting everything meticulously prepared and proportioned as precisely as Wu Xi deemed fit (which was to say, completely) before brewing it to the right color, viscosity and smell all. He throws open the window right as it steps over the finish line, catching a cricket in his hands and pinching it just firmly enough in his fingers that it can’t hop away before dropping it into a ceramic bowl with a translucent lid with a small hole poked through it with this exact purpose. He drips the very last of the original solution onto the insect and closes his eyes for five seconds, then opens them to a cricket half its initial size. It wasn’t necessarily a rule, but when he was a child himself the Illustrious One had told him it was disrespectful to witness more extreme things, like rapid age regression and progression, even when researching them. The tools come from the soil, so we use them, but when something unnatural is borne from them, we look away. We can only live because of this land Gazh has given us, so we must protect the sanctity of its unknown.
He sucks up a dropperful of the antidote then, and feeds in a couple drops of it before shutting his eyes again and holding his breath in anticipation. One, two, three… five pass, and he opens his eyes, and–
The cricket is back to its original size, hopping around and trying to escape as if nothing had happened. The relief is instantaneous; his shoulders slump as he exhales, and alongside it giddiness bubbles up. He releases the bug outside the window and shuts it again, hurries to fill a small sipping dish with the liquid, and all but bursts out into the hallway. His quick steps echo in his ears like the staccato of his heartbeat. Maybe he’s a little too excited to revert the changes, maybe too little, maybe just enough, but it doesn’t matter either way. When Wu Xi can throw his arms around Beiyuan again, it won’t make a difference. It won’t when he can kiss him again– and whack him for worrying him for the millionth time with a hand too gentle to ache even a bit.
The young Beiyuan is sleeping when he slides his door open. Wu Xi kneels by his bedside, setting the antidote on the short table nearby and softly shaking him awake. “Beiyuan.” He calls quietly. “Wake up.” He should probably be saying Prince, but hopefully he’s still not conscious enough to have heard that part.
His eyes flutter open, blinking to abate his grogginess as he props himself up on his elbows, turning towards Wu Xi. “What?” He yawns, voice thick with slumber, and Wu Xi smiles brighter than the moonlight filtering in from outside. “I brought you some medicine, for your stomach.” He fibs. “Nanjiang fare can sometimes upset those who aren’t used to it; I only remembered just now, I’m sorry.” He holds out the dish for Beiyuan to take.
Luckily he doesn’t question it, but he doesn’t move to take it, watching Wu Xi expectantly through half-shut eyes. “You forgot, so you feed it to me.” He complains. Wu Xi bites his lip to keep from saying any unnecessary words, but as he cradles the back of Beiyuan’s neck in one hand and tilts the dish up to his lips to let him drink, he remarks, despite it all, you’re still my Beiyuan, aren’t you.
He swallows it all obediently but makes a gagging noise when the dish is empty, pulling himself from Wu Xi’s hold; he closes his eyes then and waits. One, two, three, fo– a hand around his wrist surprises him and makes him look prematurely. It’s one with longer fingers, attached to a longer arm, and a body now naked in the bed with scraps of a child’s clothes around it.
"Beiyuan." Wu Xi breathes and rushes forward to hug him so tight he might break his bones. Beiyuan laughs at his joy, bringing his arms up to rub reassuring patterns on Wu Xi’s back and deigning to let him squeeze the life out of him for a few moments more. “Did you miss me that much? Was I not cute enough for you?” He wriggles out of his iron grasp but doesn’t resist at all when Wu Xi’s hands drop to rest on his hips. “I must not have been; you got that figured out fast.”
Wu Xi huffs, but face is stained pink. “I didn’t say that.” He defends. “You were an adorable child. Not all the same, but you were still very you.”
Beiyuan’s eyes glitter with mirth. “Yet you didn’t coo over me once!”
Wu Xi rolls his eyes, saying, “You think I didn’t want to?”, then leans in to kiss him.