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It is several years after Wen Kexing begins traveling with Zhou Zishu that he realizes he has never actually heard him say ‘I love you’. Once he becomes cognizant of this fact, he can’t stop thinking about it. He is aware it is an inherently absurd premise- after all, Zhou Zishu has spent several years at his side. They’ve shared hundreds of meals together, spent hundreds of nights sharing a bedroll, kissed and held each other hundreds of times. They trained a disciple together. He has never trusted anyone more, and he is sure no one knows more about him. And yet still, the doubt sits heavy at the back of his mind, drawing his consciousness towards it at all times. He figures the first step is to try and bait him. It is the easy way out, perhaps, but he has never had any shame about embarrassing himself to get affection from Ah-Xu.
The night is sweltering and the structure of the inn they’re staying in does little in the way of offering much cooling. Sweat coats every square inch of Wen Kexing’s body, and even his thin under-robes cling to his damp skin. The absolute last thing he wants to do is attach himself to another person and take on additional warmth. Not one to ignore a challenge, however, he persists, wrapping his arms around Zhou Zishu and pulling him close. He has filled out some in the few years since the nails were pried from his body, and they fit together perfectly now, Wen Kexing’s chest slotting pleasingly up against his spine. Still, with the heat, it is a distinctly sticky, unpleasant experience.
“I love you,” Wen Kexing whispers up against the shell of his ear. Zhou Zishu grumbles something unintelligible, seemingly to himself, and shrugs Wen Kexing off of him. For good measure, he pushes him away with his foot.
“I know that, you lunatic. Did you need to climb all over me in the middle of the night when you’re covered in sweat to tell me that?”
Wen Kexing does not respond- surely the obvious response would just be to return the sentiment before pushing him off. Right? He likes Zhou Zishu because he is unpredictable, and knows his husband will never be the sort to openly fawn over him. And yet, he is suddenly a bit unsure, self-conscious. His tongue sits too heavily in his dry throat. Zhou Zishu seems to notice something is off and uses the foot he had used to push Wen Kexing away to nudge teasingly at him.
“Unless you are personally responsible for making it hotter than the surface of the sun outside, don’t mope. I don’t need another person on top of me right now. You know it takes you a while to fall asleep when it’s hot like this; settle down now so you can get some sleep. I don’t want to deal with you in the morning when you’re sleep-deprived.”
It’s not what he was looking to hear, but for some reason it soothes the burn at the back of his mind just a little.
—
Wen Kexing’s epic quest continues anew the next day. True to Zhou Zishu’s words, it had taken him ages to fall asleep, and he wakes up already feeling drained. Zhou Zishu sees the bags under his eyes and throws him a knowing look, but says nothing. The meaning is obvious: perhaps if you hadn’t wasted time last night crawling all over me and stating the obvious, you could have gotten some sleep.
The heat is still oppressive, seemingly having weight and filling every crevice of the small room they had rented. It’s worse as the sun rises, which doesn’t help the sweating situation. Neither of them particularly feels like putting on their outer robes, even the lighter summer ones they had purchased a few weeks back. They stall on dressing themselves for as long as they reasonably can, and the sun is already high in the sky when they manage to drag themselves out of the inn. They had planned to head north today in search of a town that Ah-Xu heard made excellent rice wine, but neither of them feels like walking the distance today, especially starting so late. Wen Kexing instead shells out a bit more of his own money on some higher-quality wine from the marketplace to make it up to him.
Zhou Zishu takes appreciative swigs of the wine as they instead walk to a small river a few li out from the town’s marketplace. It remains surprisingly– and blissfully– devoid of any other life, and Wen Kexing eagerly sheds his outer robes and heads towards the enticing water. Zhou Zishu grabs his arm and pulls him back away from the water’s edge, shaking his head. He wordlessly kicks off his own boots and steers them both to sit on the riverbank, only their feet dangling into the water. He takes Wen Kexing’s hair into his hands, pulling it from the plait holding it loosely away from his face and instead twisting it into a tight, efficient bun on the top of his head. Wen Kexing waits patiently for him to do the same to himself, the water on the soles of his feet cooling him down enough to sate his desire to simply throw himself into the river.
“It’s hot out, but it’s still not good to walk around with wet hair the rest of the day. You could catch a cold, and I don’t want to spend the next week being your nursemaid,” Zhou Zishu explains simply before wading a bit further into the river. He still hovers close to the shore, though, instead just bending his legs and kneeling so the water covers more of him instead of venturing any deeper. They both know he cannot swim, but Wen Kexing avoids bringing it up to spare his pride.
Wen Kexing, on the other hand, throws himself aggressively into the water’s depths, trudging into the murkiest section. He lays on his back and just floats, sighing happily as the cool water buoys his body. He hadn’t done this in so long- they usually avoided bodies of water for logistical (and Zhou Zishu-related) reasons, and it was generally best practice to avoid the water in Ghost Valley at all costs. Drinking it was suspect, and throwing your body into it was practically unthinkable. It would probably merit another ghost sneaking up and slitting your throat, anyway. At this moment, he felt a bit like a kid again. He throws a grin over to Zhou Zishu, who has upgraded his shallow-water experience by chugging the wine as he crouches there. He looks as peaceful as a man with his past can, eyes closed and face tilted up slightly towards the sun. Wen Kexing finds himself smiling to himself as he watches.
—
They headed to a new town slightly closer to the river after they’ve both had their fill. As is their usual experience, Zhou Zishu has to clarify to the innkeeper that yes, they would indeed like only one room for the night, thank you. By now he has stopped bothering with trying to offer any explanation– they may receive an odd look for a few seconds, but beyond that no one particularly cares too much what they get up to as long as they pay. In the past, he used to excuse himself by telling the innkeeper of the day that it was just cheaper that way, or maybe that they were brothers if he was feeling particularly spiteful to Wen Kexing that day. He requests another bottle of wine for the room, and Wen Kexing chides him for being a drunkard. Zhou Zishu shrugs without remorse and they walk up to the room together, shoulders just barely brushing.
“You look like you had fun today,” Wen Kexing says playfully, a slight smirk settling onto his lips. Zhou Zishu throws him a side eye, but eventually caves and nods. Just slightly, so Wen Kexing would only be given the satisfaction of seeing if he was paying close attention.
“...It must be because you knew you would be safe in the water with your dear wife ready to swoop in and save you if the water swallowed you up,” he finishes proudly, and Zhou Zishu punches him in the arm in response.
“Shut the hell up,” he says simply, but his hand lingers on his arms and pulls Wen Kexing close. He pulls his hair, still a bit wet from his time laying in the water, down from the bun.
“I told you you shouldn’t get your hair wet,” he clucks disapprovingly, eyes scanning over him and fingers carding through his damp locks as if he’s evaluating how much damage a battle wound had dealt. “It’s your own damn fault if you get sick.”
“You’re of course right, Lord Husband Zhou,” Wen Kexing snarks, rolling his eyes, “even though it’s approximately as hot as hell outside. I think I’ll be okay.”
—
As it turns out, an unseasonably extreme cold front hits the town they’re staying in that night. It would normally be a blissful break from the godawful heat, but Wen Kexing with his wet hair is left shivering and clinging to Zhou Zishu that night. This time the other man does not protest– they had left their thicker winter robes with Zhang Chengling when they visited a few weeks ago, and he probably is freezing as well– but Wen Kexing can practically feel the ‘I told you so’ radiating off of his body.
Despite his misery, Wen Kexing is still determined to draw an ‘I love you’ out of Zhou Zishu. He buries his chin into the crook of his Ah-Xu’s shoulder, nuzzling up against him. Partially out of affection, and partly to eke out every bit of warmth he can from the other man’s body.
“I love you,” he tries again, hand coming to settle on Zhou Zishu’s hip.
He receives only the quiet hum of snores in response.
—
It had taken Wen Kexing much longer to fall asleep, the stinging cold keeping him up. When he wakes up, having somehow stayed warm enough to sleep through the night, their blanket is tucked neatly and snugly around his body.
—
The cold puts some wind behind their sails the next day, and they walk quickly to keep warm in their quest for the town with the good wine. They purchase the wine first thing upon their arrival, and it receives an enthusiastic seal of approval from Zhou Zishu, resident wine connoisseur. Happily strolling through the town’s marketplace swigging it, he next meanders off in search of some slightly thicker outer robes for them. Wen Kexing stays behind and turns back to the wine seller, purchasing three more bottles– much to the man’s delight. He blithely accepts the effusive compliments of his fine palate and heads back to find his Ah-Xu among the hustle and bustle of the marketplace.
They generally try to keep their packs light, dropping off and switching gear every few months at Zhang Chengling’s place when the seasons change. They don’t generally stay anywhere else for more than a day or two and spend the majority of their time wandering around on foot, so carrying around three extra jugs of wine may not be the wisest of ideas. But… Zhou Zishu had really enjoyed it, smile broad around the mouth of the jug he carried around the market with him. Wen Kexing quite liked his smile. Lugging around a slightly bigger pack would be worth it.
The market is crowded today, with more people choosing to seek shelter in the town in the face of the colder than expected weather. It takes Wen Kexing more time than he would like to find Zhou Zishu, who throws a burgundy outer robe into his arms.
“For you,” he says absentmindedly, “I’m not carrying it.”
The fabric is stiff but not the thickest- likely the best he could find in the middle of summer. Still, another layer won’t hurt. And it is his favorite color, he notes to himself, pleased. Wen Kexing nods approvingly, and they head off towards the inn at the center of the town without another word.
As soon as they enter the building, the innkeeper looks flustered. If they still cared about the great conspiracies of the jianghu, or if they thought anyone knew who they were, they might be concerned. Instead, they share a glance, but still approach.
“Ah, I’m terribly sorry, young Masters, but we’re out of rooms for the night.”
“We just need one room,” Zhou Zishu explains casually, but the man just nervously shakes his head.
“We don’t even have a single room, I’m afraid. We normally have no issues, but this is the only inn in town, and with this weather…”
The man is fidgeting with a brush left upon the counter, and the residual ink streaks across the light colored wood. He seems obviously overwhelmed, so they decide to leave without protest and head for the woods surrounding town. Camping it is, then. Wen Kexing is suddenly much more appreciative of the new outer robe.
Wen Kexing arranges their bedroll while Zhou Zishu sets up a small fire for them. It’s probably not the best idea to leave it going all night in the middle of summer with so much foliage around, but both of them are light sleepers. Desperate times and all.
—
Wen Kexing wakes up with a violent sneeze. His nose is suddenly stuffed up and the pressure makes his head ache.
“I told you so,” Zhou Zishu really does say when he notices, and Wen Kexing throws him a miserable look. Ah, why must he revel in Wen Kexing’s suffering?
“Ah-Xu,” he whines pathetically, voice nasal, “I can’t get up. I’m much too exhausted. Besides, you couldn’t know it would suddenly get cold like this. As wonderful as you are, you can’t predict the future.”
“I can look at the clouds and see a front was coming, though. Maybe if you were a tad bit more observant…”
Wen Kexing responds with a dramatic sniffle.
“Fine, just go back to bed,” Zhou Zishu huffs.
“Ah-Xu, how am I supposed to sleep without you next to me?”
“You’ll manage. Go back to sleep, I don’t want to deal with you like this.”
Feeling as he is, like all the energy has been drained from his body, Wen Kexing does manage to fall back asleep despite the distinct lack of an Ah-Xu he can snuggle. When he wakes up a few hours later, he’s so groggy it takes him a few minutes to process his surroundings. In the back of his head, that registers to him as a small blessing– in the past, allowing himself to be caught so unawares could be deadly. Comfortable as he is now, he allows his senses to slowly pull him back to full awareness.
The smell around him is… interesting, a mixture of metallic blood and food just verging on the edge of being burnt. There are bits of some small animal, maybe a hare, strewn about. Zhou Zishu usually does clean the animals they hunt, but it almost looks like he wasn’t entirely sure of what parts they actually ate. Some of the parts on the ground were partially cooked or had char marks, and one of two was cooked and had bites taken out of them. Wen Kexing winces as he notices the poor creature’s liver is among the latter category. That had to be bitter.
As for the burnt parts, well… they usually packed one small set of shallow wooden bowls with them, as they were easy to carry and worked for a lot of meals. For some reason, however, Zhou Zishu appears to have attempted to cook some sort of hare soup over the fire in one of the bowls— which, being made of wood, had obviously burnt on the bottom. He seems unbothered by this, and turns around when Wen Kexing sits up.
“I made you some soup,” he says, pouring some into the second, unburnt wooden bowl. The one he had used as a cooking vessel was overly full, so some spills onto the forest floor as he pours. Paying that no mind, he shoves the bowl into Wen Kexing’s hands.
“Sorry it won’t be gourmet, but it should be warm and good for you,” he explains.
Wen Kexing decides he cannot look at the soup for too long before he eats it. The broth looks almost like it consists of just water, and the chunks of hare have turned an off putting grayish-brown color. He braces himself as he spoons some into his mouth. It tastes… as expected. It’s extremely bland until an insane amount of heat hits as an aftertaste, and the hare seems to have been boiled in the broth instead of sautéed first in the pan, and has resultantly adopted a strange, rubbery texture. It’s just barely palatable, but there is a reason they always get food from restaurants or have Wen Kexing cook. It is not a skill his dear Ah-Xu possesses, having been raised as an upper-class head disciple of a martial arts sect and having spent a non-insignificant amount of time in a royal court.
Nevertheless, it is indeed warm and the meat should be fortifying, so Wen Kexing forces down the bowl. He’s starving anyway. Zhou Zishu looks secretly pleased with himself, which motivates him to finish it. He does feel a bit better after he’s done, like some energy has returned to him.
He helps clean up the bits of hare and the half-charred set of bowls, and puts out the fire. It’s a bit warmer tonight, so the extra set of robes each should suffice to keep them comfortable. Zhou Zishu claims that since Wen Kexing already got to sleep today and is the one who got himself sick, he should sleep outside of their bedroll tonight so as to avoid passing it on. He does not complain when Wen Kexing settles into their bedroll with him anyways, and indeed pulls him closer when he tries to at least sleep a few inches away to spare him.
Having slept most of the day, Wen Kexing is wide awake long after Zhou Zishu dozes off for the night. He watches his ink-black lashes fall against his cheeks, the soft part of his lips as he sleeps, the way he curls his body against his own. He thinks to himself that he loves him so much that it hurts, and that he is the luckiest man in the world for being able to travel with him, to fall asleep and wake up beside him every night.
But he understands now, after the last few days, that he will not get an ‘I love you’ out of Zhou Zishu. He does not need one. He thinks of the way Zhou Zishu chided him to try and fall asleep early because he never could in the heat, the feel of his hands in his hair as he pulled it up into the bun for him, the new outer robe in his favorite color, the clumsy attempt at soup… He will not hear an ‘I love you’ in his voice, but he’s surrounded by it every day. He falls asleep early in the morning with the twinge at the back of his mind eased and Zhou Zishu in his arms.