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Historians will call them anything but.
His head was clouded, full of emotions and heavy with thoughts. A tiny smile was on his face, registering to others as a smirk, his eyes casted down and his cap protectively tight on his head. “Ba Ye,” he said, a tease far over his expected tone, “are you sure you don’t want to back out now?” He saw the hesitance, the reluctance to answer his question – his tease – yet the reply came steady and strong. “Of course! With Fo Ye, I’m sure nothing will go wrong.”
Fo Ye. Zhang Rishan knew better than to get sick of that name, knew that he did not hate that name. He simply grew jealous of it. The lieutenant licked his lips, careful with his expression as he continued to eye the man. He felt Fo Ye watching him, an amuse look upon first gaze, and he knew very well that the other Zhang was aware of his emotions.
“I will be off, then,” Fo Ye said, patting a hand on to Ba Ye’s shoulder before giving a look to Rishan, a nod in return, as he walked out of the room, a pure glance of entertainment on his face. Zhang Rishan rocked slightly on his heels, growing his smile as he watched Ba Ye in front of him, the gaze silent and with great observance. “So, you only trust Fo Ye?” he asked, aware of the consequences, aware of the tone he was using – knowing very well that he sounded this way that may offend him. He did not know how to correct himself.
“No, no,” the fortune teller replied quickly, hands shaking in the air as he smiled brightly at him. “You are great too, it is just that… that-”
“That you don’t think I’m good enough?” interjected Zhang Rishan, taking a calculated step forward and his upper body leaning in slightly. His arms were crossed behind his back, eyes tilted upwards as he took another foot-sized step forward. In the quick flash of recognition in Ba Ye’s eyes, he knew very well that the other was aware of his choice of words, aware that he had ticked him off in a way that was not a normal fit of anger. A finger flicked gently under Qi Tie Zui’s chin, his own body betraying him as he let himself sway in the direction, head tilting along.
Zhang Rishan felt disappointed with himself, feeling jealous yet upset of the lack of recognition. He acted, continued to pretend to be fearless and cocky, as he presented himself in front of him, clicking his tongue at himself and his face reactively curling into an ironed out blank stare. A Zhang feature.
To look emotionless, as emotions bubbled up underneath and burn as they tear you apart.
He rolled his head to the side, tongue poking at his cheek, before nodding his head at him and clicking his feet together. And Ba Ye saw. He saw passed the façade of plain bone and flesh. Zhang Rishan ignored the aching feeling, and saluted, turning around as his smile dropped, his body rushing forward.
He was pulled back by voice, a force stronger than what one would believe to be.
“Zhang Rishan.”
There were no honorifics, no titles, just his name. He waited, for anything.
“Maybe the reason why I, uhm, do not say it is because of you is because…”
And he waits, because he knows very well how the awkwardness would ease if this one conversation was finished properly.
“… because you are not the reason I would want to run off into tombs.”
Zhang Rishan slumped his shoulders, a slight tinge of hope still there, and he blinked in the lack of explanation, knowing well that the fortune teller could not see his face.
“I mean,” came the voice, stronger and more confident, “you are the reason why I would want to keep living, and if you were the reason I would want to die, it is probably because I would go and save you, or sacrifice, of to make sure you are safe.”
And that was enough. More than enough, to keep Rishan there and waiting.
He could tell, word for word, that it was honest and real. That it was truthful. So he stood there, feeling the warm gaze of Qi Tie Zui at his back, and he smiled to himself at the confession. Word for word, he knew that it was close, and that he just had to respond.
Word for word.
But history hates lovers.