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Chapter Text

At least he’d still had enough influence for someone to give him and Ding Rong a bit of warning before the executioner came for them, Wang Zhi reflected. Not that that did anything to ease the stitch in his side, slow his laboured breathing, or alleviate the discomfort of the sweat soaking his silk robes as he and Ding Rong sprinted through the streets towards the harbour. This must be the first time he’d run in years. He was accustomed to riding in a carriage, but they would have been arrested if they’d tried to leave through the palace gates. The only option for him and Ding Rong has been on foot through his secret tunnel.

When they finally reached the harbour, he nearly gagged on the stench of refuse and rotting fish, but at least they seemed to have arrived ahead of the soldiers who would surely be pursuing them by now. One by one, he and Ding Rong went to each ship in the port asking for passage. Everyone told them the same thing: The tide was going out and no one sensible would be leaving before the next morning. Finally, they came to the last ship in the port. Wang Zhi’s heart leapt when he saw her crew was coiling ropes and preparing to cast off. They were Westerners, and they looked filthy, but leaving with them was a fair sight better than the alternative.

“Good afternoon!” he called out to a sailor who was pulling up the gangplank. His English was rusty—it had been years since he’d had instruction—but he hoped he would be understood. Once he had the man’s attention, he continued. “We seek–” but then broke off. He heard the yelling and clatter of soldiers entering the harbour, and panic froze his brain so the words wouldn’t come.

Before he was able to collect himself, the sailor replied in perfect Chinese, “What is it you seek? Passage? Trade?” The man reeked of weeks of sweat, and his stringy blond hair had feathers and straw stuck in it, likely from the seagull perched on his head. Nevertheless, somehow, his accent sounded as if he’d spent his entire life in the Forbidden City, taking elocution lessons with the prince. Dumbstruck, Wang Zhi could only nod.

Ding Rong stepped in. “Passage. We can pay,” he said, holding open a bag of baubles he’d grabbed on the way out. Wang Zhi was surprised to find himself overwhelmed with gratitude for Ding Rong’s foresight.

“Aye well yes then, let’s go, quickly now, before we meet our bloody doom!” The sailor barely glanced into the bag. “Here come soldiers with foul murder on their minds!” He all but shoved Ding Rong and Wang Zhi down the gangplank towards the ship. As they crossed, he heard the shouts that meant that the soldiers had spotted them. “Hurry!” the sailor shouted, pushing them along so hard that Wang Zhi almost lost his footing on the slimy, weathered wood.

Finally, they made it onto the ship. Wang Zhi bent over wheezing with his hands on his knees. Ding Rong leaned against the railing as he gasped for air. Through the haze of waning adrenaline, Wang Zhi was only barely aware of the motion of the ship as it was freed from its berth.

He looked up in time to see the soldiers bunched on the edge of the wharf, snarling and shaking their fists in impotent rage. Wang Zhi smiled thinking of the no-doubt painful punishment they would face for allowing their quarry to escape. Ding Rong was watching them from the railing, smirking and waving smugly at them as the distance between them grew. Wang Zhi stood up and joined him. He and Ding Rong made eye contact, and suddenly a wave of affection washed over Wang Zhi that was so strong that his knees nearly gave out. Or maybe that was all the running. He slipped an arm around Ding Rong’s waist and joined him in the smug waving. He felt Ding Rong briefly stiffen in surprise, but then he leaned his head onto Wang Zhi’s shoulder. For a moment, Wang Zhi felt nothing but a glow of relief mingled with fatigue that somehow merged into a kind of peace.

Which was almost immediately destroyed by the ear-shattering boom of an explosion next to them. If he hadn’t been holding onto the railing, he would have fallen over. A wave of water splashed over the soldiers on the wharf, leaving them sputtering. As his hearing returned, he turned to see two of the crew members arguing animatedly by a cannon.

“Oh my god, did you bother even trying to aim?” one of the sailors demanded. He seemed cleaner and was dressed more smartly than the rest.

“I’m sorry, I just got excited is all,” apologised a man with a lisp. Any other apologies were drowned out by the cheering of the rest of the crew.

“That was awesome! Do it again!” yelled a giant of a man.

The two by the cannon locked eyes. The first sailor tried and utterly failed to keep his face stern until he finally grudgingly admitted, “Well, I guess it was pretty awesome.”

“Thanks babe,” said the man who had fired the cannon as he leaned in for a kiss.

Wang Zhi took this moment to bow formally and said carefully but clearly, “We extend our deepest gratitude to you for your assistance in our hasty departure. I am Wang Zhi, and this is my assistant, Ding Rong.”

“I’m Lucius. And it was really no trouble at all,” said the well-dressed man. “We were actually already in a bit of a hurry, escaping as fast as we could, on account of SOMEone, I’m not going to say who,” he shot a glare at the giant man, who was snickering, “but it was definitely Wee John, thinking it would be funny to try to steal a policeman’s horse in broad daylight. While he was riding it. As you saw, that resulted in rather a large number of soldiers sent after us.”

“The horse ran away, so it’s not like they had any evidence,” Wee John scoffed.

The exhaustion must have weakened his mind, because without even thinking, Wang Zhi said, “Oh no, that had nothing to do with you. It was us they were trying to capture.” Ding Rong kicked his ankle and glared. Wang Zhi winced in self-reproach.

“They were after you? How come?” said the lisping man. He seemed delighted, and not in the way that Wang Zhi would expect if he were a bounty hunter. “The name's Black Pete, by the way.”

Before he could answer, Wee John let out a raucous cheer. “Who cares! Any enemy of theirs is a friend of ours!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Black Pete held out a filth-encrusted flask. “We’re pirates!” he said in explanation.

Ding Rong and Wang Zhi looked at one another with alarm. What had they gotten themselves into?

Chapter Text

Once their escape from the port seemed assured, the crew began settling down into their tasks. Wang Zhi and Ding Rong were more or less forgotten. With the adrenaline fading, exhaustion began setting in, and Wang Zhi was craving a chance to wash up, change into fresh robes and lie down for a bit. He made up his mind to set things in motion after noticing Ding Rong stifle a yawn.

Wang Zhi got the attention of the nearest sailor. Frenchie, he’d said his name was. “Excuse me, but do you know when we might be shown our rooms?” he asked.

Frenchie snorted. “Should be any minute now, soon as the cabin boy’s done with the tidying and finds some of them little mint thingies for the pillows. Then you can take your pick.”

Wang Zhi smiled patiently. “I see.“ He started to let it go, but then saw Ding Rong yawn again from the corner of his eye. “Then perhaps we could have some tea at least? If you could just show us the direction of the galley?”

Frenchie shook his head at this nonsense. “Tea? You can’t have tea on a ship.“ He interpreted Wang Zhi’s confused silence as disagreement. “Brewing tea is like putting out a welcome mat for demons. Nothing draws ‘em faster. ‘Cause you know, it’s the demons what arrange the tea leaves into shapes for fortune tellers to read. It’s just common sense, really.“

Wang Zhi said, “I see,” again and went back to Ding Rong’s side so they could try to figure out a course of action. They hadn’t gotten very far before Olu approached them with a shifty look on his face.

“Right so there’s something that needs to get sorted, and It’s rather odd, I’m afraid,” he said apologetically. “This ship has two captains and two crews, and the captains mostly stay in their cabins, and they aren’t speaking to each other, so neither are their crews, and we all have to pretend like the other one doesn’t exist. Bit of a mess, really.”

“Two captains who aren’t speaking? How do you decide what to do?” Wang Zhi asked, brow furrowed.

“We mostly don’t, if I’m honest. The British Navy was chasing us, so we came to the East to get away from them—”

“and also the French Navy,” interjected Black Pete. “And the Spanish Navy. And the—”

“Right, we get it,” interrupted Olu. “Anyway, in the balance between escaping and pirating, I’d say we’ve been pretty much all escaping and not so much pirating lately.”

“For like, months and months,” said Black Pete.

“Oi, you’re not even supposed to be part of this conversation!” Olu tried to shoo him away. He didn’t move. “Anyway, Jim is sort of the intermediary between the crews and in charge of relaying messages because they’re the only one both captains will talk to.”

Jim snorted and rolled their eyes.

“Well I guess they don’t actually do much in the way of relaying messages.” Olu looked at Jim fondly. “But anyway, I hope it’s not too much of a bother, but the captains have to decide which crew you’ll be on. Jim will take you to meet them now.”

“That man in black over there by the poop deck, sneering at us, is he on the other crew?” Ding Rong asked.

Olu shushed him. “I don’t see anyone and even if I did, I really wouldn’t say because we don’t talk about them,” he said with the tiniest of nods.

Jim silently turned and began walking away. After a moment’s pause, Wang Zhi and Ding Rong realized they were supposed to be following. They took a couple of quick steps to catch up.

The stench of unwashed bodies and pitch hit Wang Zhi almost palpably as soon as they went below decks. He pulled a perfumed handkerchief out of his sleeve and held it over his nose, but Ding Rong elbowed him and shook his head slightly, so he put it back. If this was what the pirate life was all about, he didn’t know how he could bear it. He already longed terribly for the elegance and comfort and, especially urgently, the fragrant incense of home. But he also longed for his head to remain attached to his body, so he pushed those thoughts out of his mind and focused on the present.

Wang Zhi and Ding Rong looked at each other incredulously when they realized where they were being taken. A single doorway had been divided in half with pieces of driftwood and canvas. The room behind the right side was dark; the view into the room on the left was obscured by a decorative screen, but they could see the flicker of candlelight.

As soon as they reached the doorway, Jim melted away.

“Wait, which one should we go to first?” Wang Zhi asked.

An aristocratic voice called from the candlelit room, “Jim, would you be so kind as to bring them to me at once.”

Moments later, the sinister black-clad man who’d been glaring at them on the deck reached out of the darkened room, grabbed them roughly by the arms, and yanked them in. “You’ll be seeing Captain Blackbeard now.”

Chapter Text

The man in black roughly shoved Ding Rong and Wang Zhi into the centre of the room so that they were facing Captain Blackbeard, who glared at them from behind a long table. Two men loomed behind him, arms crossed over their chests.

“Well? Who the hell are you? What are you doing on my ship?” Captain Blackbeard asked with a quiet intensity that was somehow more threatening than the other man’s open hostility. Despite his aggressive stance, his eyes were intensely curious.

Wang Zhi decided that their foreignness might go a long way towards mitigating the etiquette gaffes they were sure to make. He bowed with utmost formality. As if their thoughts were linked, Ding Rong did the same next to him in unison. They rarely needed words to communicate anymore. It was one of the things he lov— appreciated about Ding Rong. About what a helpful and efficient assistant he was.

“We seek passage on your ship, Captain Blackbeard. We have the means to pay for it. Ding Rong, show them,” he said. Ding Rong pulled out the silk purse of baubles again.

At a nod from Captain Blackbeard, one of the men came around the table, took the purse, and tossed it to Captain Blackbeard. He sifted through the contents, nodded appreciatively, and said, “Right then, we’ll be keeping these. But we don’t have passengers on my ship. We have sailors, hostages, and shark food.”

Ding Rong recovered immediately. “We can sail.”

“Reeeeally?” Captain Blackbeard raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You’re telling me you’re sailors?”

“Of course they’re fucking not. Their hands are as soft as silk,” Izzy said impatiently, shoving Wang Zhi by the shoulder. Wang Zhi bit back the anger that was building in him. He was going to have to get used to this scum’s disrespect. For now.

“I was the lead advisor to the emperor. Ding Rong was my assistant. At times, our roles demanded that we sail.”

“The emperor?” Captain Blackbeard put down his pipe and leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. “Did you live in the palace?”

Before Wang Zhi could answer, Izzy interjected, “Captain!” His tone was anguished.

Captain Blackbeard recoiled. “Right, right. Ocean sailing?”

Wang Zhi shook his head. “River. But on the mightiest river in the empire,” he lied.

Captain Blackbeard sighed, disappointed. “Any fighting or maiming background?”

“I can shoot,” Wang Zhi said. Captain Blackbeard only puffed on his pipe, unimpressed. “And I’m very good at torturing,” Wang Zhi said. He was grasping at straws at this point.

“It’s true,” Ding Rong said. “Everyone always said he went too far. He definitely maimed people quite a bit more than necessary. And he was… inventive. It created problems sometimes, like the time I had to replace nearly half the kitchen staff between lunch and dinner after he tortured them to death. And the way he did it was excessively—”

“ENOUGH!” Wang Zhi interrupted. How dare Ding Rong judge him. Ding Rong raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“Also we learn fast,” said Ding Rong.

When they didn’t volunteer any more information, Captain Blackbeard took a long contemplative draw off his pipe and said, “Well Izzy? What should we do with them?”

Before Izzy could respond, the man who was presumably the other captain called out, “Jim, please tell Captain Blackbeard that I must insist that we give these gentlemen passage!” from the other side of the canvas sheet.

“Maybe we should throw them overboard,” Blackbeard said, just loudly enough for his voice to carry.

“An excellent decision Captain.” A sinister light came into Izzy’s eyes as he stepped in front of Wang Zhi and Ding Rong, standing far too close in an effort to intimidate. All things considered, it was working, but Wang Zhi’s pride did not allow him to break eye contact.

“Jim! Tell Captain Blackbeard that he is by no means to throw them overboard! We simply don’t do that to guests. It would be unforgivably rude.” The other captain sounded frantic.

“Throw them overboard, Izzy!” Blackbeard roared and slammed his fist on the table.

Izzy grinned malevolently. “Yes Captain, pleased to oblige.” He firmly clamped a hand on each of their shoulders and spun them around to face the door. "Fang, Ivan, let's go."

“Jim! Please extend my heartfelt welcome to them and invite them to join my crew.” Despite his words, there was a note of panic in his voice. “Please tell Captain Blackbeard that, since they're on my crew, he musn’t do anything untoward towards them.”

Fang and Ivan came to flank Wang Zhi and Ding Rong. Wang Zhi made eye contact with Ding Rong and gestured as if to reach for his gun. Ding Rong nodded subtly. Although Wang Zhi didn’t like their odds, it looked like they were running out of options. But before he could pull his gun out, Jim appeared in the doorway, standing with arms crossed and an unimpressed expression.

“Jim, are you bringing them in? What’s going on?” the other captain called.

Jim gestured indifferently towards the other side of the room.

“Well Izzy, you know how it is,” Captain Blackbeard said, almost apologetically. “Let them go talk to Captain Fancypants. Maybe you can still throw ‘em overboard later.”

Izzy cursed, spat on the floor, and gave Wang Zhi and Ding Rong a final shove out the doorway, such as it was. Izzy slammed the door once they were in the hall, but the effect was undermined because Jim immediately reopened it to show them into the other captain’s room.

Chapter Text

Captain Blackbeard’s half of the room had been barren; this one was cluttered with fine, albeit battered, furniture and decor. A man in a maroon silk dressing gown leapt to his feet when they entered.

“Captain Stede Bonnet, the Gentleman Pirate,” he said, returning Ding Rong’s and Wang Zhi’s bow. “It is so lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“Captain Bonnet, I am Wang Zhi and this is my assistant, Ding Rong. The pleasure is all ours.” Lucius gave them a little wave from the chair where he was perched, quill and logbook at the ready.

Captain Bonnet clasped Wang Zhi’s hand in his. “I am so eager to hear all about your adventures, and I must say, it is such a delight to have others who clearly appreciate the finer things in life on board. By the way, that reminds me,” he switched to a shout, “Jim, please inform Captain Blackbeard that the lavender soap is for my use only, and he is to keep his cruel, plundering hands out of my toilette cupboard.”

From the other side of the curtain, Blackbeard yelled, “Jim, tell Stede I’m a fucking pirate and I’ll use or not use any soap I want.”

“Jim, tell Captain Blackbeard that that is simply unacceptable!”

“Jim, tell Stede to fuck right the fucking fuck off!”

There was a crash of shattering glass from the other side of the curtain, as if Blackbeard had thrown a bottle. An expression of misery clouded Captain Bonnet’s face and his gaze turned inward for a moment. Wang Zhi’s fixed smile felt like it was on the verge of becoming a grimace.

The moment passed, and Captain Bonnet returned to their conversation. “As I was saying, welcome to my crew. Please do have a seat.” At his behest, Wang Zhi and Ding Rong sat on a toile-upholstered divan. Two legs had been snapped off, so it was propped up on a crate. “Now, you’ll find that life aboard the Revenge is a bit different than many pirate ships…”

Wang Zhi could see in the lift of Ding Rong’s shoulders that he was working just as hard to suppress laughter as Wang Zhi was.

“...But we really do put our entire hearts and souls into elevating the buccaneering life to a more sophisticated standard, one where we share our feelings and where everyone has a say.” He beamed with pride.

“It sounds truly admirable,” Wang Zhi said, studiously avoiding eye contact with Ding Rong. He smirked to himself when he saw Ding Rong’s shoulders lift again.

“Jim, tell Stede it sounds fuckin’ stupid!” Blackbeard yelled.

Captain Bonnet stood up and screamed, “Jim, tell Ed to keep his surprisingly elegant, Byronic nose out of my business!” Flecks of spittle flew out of his mouth. Breathing hard, he pushed his hair back, then sat down abruptly and buried his face in his hands. There came another crash of breaking glass from next door. Then the only sound was the scritch of Lucius’ quill across the page.

“Ed???” Ding Rong mouthed at Wang Zhi.

“Lucius, stop writing! Why must you always write everything?” Captain Bonnet cried.

“Ah well, technically, being a scribe and all, it is a bit in my job description and—”

Captain Bonnet stood up suddenly, interrupting Lucius. “Yes, well, once again gentlemen, welcome to my crew. I hope you will enjoy your stay aboard the Revenge and even become part of our little family over time. Lucius will be able to get you settled in, show you where you’ll be sleeping, assign you your tasks and so on. Please forgive me, but I must take my leave for now.”

He walked ten paces, collapsed face-down on his bed, and moaned loudly.

Lucius stood up. “Yeah, we should just go,” he whispered. Captain Bonnet moaned again, more loudly. “I can assure you the night will not get better from here.”

Lucius hustled them out the door and into the passageway. Captain Bonnet’s moans followed them until they’d gone through the hatch onto the deck.

“So right, I’d say the company culture here is a little more laid back than average, a little more decentralised than your typical ship. You two seem more than capable, I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out what sort of tasks to take on in no time.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Wang Zhi with a smile. He wondered if there was a single sane person on this ship.

Black Pete gave Lucius a sultry gaze from across the deck. “Well anyway,” Lucius said, suddenly in a rush, “you two seem to be settling in fine, and night approaches, so I’ll just be on my way.” He started to hustle off.

“Wait,” Wang Zhi stopped him. “Where should we sleep?”

“Oh…” Lucius said, suddenly looking discomfited. “Well, anywhere that looks cozy, I suppose.”

“You mean…”

“Ah well, just casting the eye about a bit, that barrel laying on its side there, that’s not a bad place to sleep. I’ve slept in there myself, still likely would if Black Pete didn’t have a room. But really, the world’s your oyster. If the barrel doesn’t suit your tastes, there’s loads of rope. The only limit is your imagination.” Black Pete wolf-whistled from across the deck. “Anyway I really must be going.” He scampered off before Wang Zhi or Ding Rong could ask him anything else.

They blinked at one another. “We sleep in the barrel,” Wang Zhi decided.

Even before he finished the sentence, Ding Rong was kneeling down to brush the feathers and filth out of the barrel. Darkness was coming fast, and all around them, the crew members were settling down into whatever sort of pathetic nests they could scrounge for themselves. Ding Rong and Wang Zhi worked together to try to make the barrel as comfortable as possible and rolled up some spare clothing they’d brought into pillows. Then there was nothing for it but to lay down.

The curve of the barrel pushed their bodies close together. Ding Rong lay behind Wang Zhi, one arm draped over Wang Zhi’s chest and the other serving as a pillow for Wang Zhi’s head. “I don’t want to go to sleep,” Ding Rong whispered. “It feels like once we go to sleep, once this day ends, it all becomes real.”

Wang Zhi whispered back, “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. A denunciation of me is probably all it would have taken for you to be promoted into my role.”

Ding Rong chuckled mirthlessly. “Don’t remind me.”

In the silence that followed, the gulf between them seemed to stretch to infinity. Before he could drift away entirely, Wang Zhi grabbed the hand that was draped over his chest. “Thank you for coming with me.”

He felt Ding Rong start. Fair enough, Wang Zhi thought. He could probably count the number of times Wang Zhi had thanked him on one hand. “I don’t know how I would have gotten by without you. I don’t think I could,” he said.

“I know,” said Ding Rong. Wang Zhi could hear the smile in his voice. Ding Rong tightened his arm around Wang Zhi.

They had tried sharing moments like this before, but it was always too complicated, too difficult to step in and out of their roles, to shuffle between intimacy and hierarchy. So they had kept their distance. He still thought of Ding Rong as his subordinate, but what kind of authority could he really claim, exiled on a stinking pirate ship, sharing a filthy barrel?

The unfamiliar motion of the ship, the itch of dried sweat and salt on his skin, and the hard, splintery wood of the barrel pressing into him all conspired with his tumultuous thoughts to keep sleep elusive. Somehow, at some point, he finally drifted off.

Chapter Text

The next few days were a haze of novel experiences and pining for home. Ding Rong and Wang Zhi had long since mastered secretly exchanging appalled glances and sharing in silent hilarity at court; they had never thought to find themselves in a place that provided even more opportunity for that. Izzy skulked and glared at them, Fang and Ivan snuck in time with Stede’s crew when Izzy wasn’t around, and true to Olu’s word, the Captains Blackbeard and Bonnet barely left their quarters. Stede’s crew, however, immediately accepted Wang Zhi and Ding Rong as if they’d been on the ship for years.

It was rare that any of the crew asked about another’s past. However, one evening as they all sat around the table after dinner, Olu said, “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to be the emperor’s advisers anyway? Were you royalty too, or just really rich or something?”

Wang Zhi was about to clarify that Ding Rong was his subordinate, not an advisor in his own right, but Ding Rong answered first.

“No, actually, we were both born into poor families. Our parents couldn’t afford to raise us, so we were given to the royal court as eunuchs.” Several of the pirates looked shocked. Anticipating the snide comments that were sure to come, Wang Zhi sighed in resignation and cut his eyes at Ding Rong, who shrugged philosophically.

“Did the deer like living in the palace?” asked the Swede.

“What? What deer?” sputtered Ding Rong.

“Because a eunuch is a shepherd but for deer, right?”

“No that’s not it,” Roach interrupted before Wang Zhi was able to suppress his laughter long enough to speak. “A eunuch is a bishop who is Catholic most of the time but can also be a regular bishop on holidays.” He haphazardly crossed himself. “I didn’t realize we had men of the cloth aboard… Fathers.”

Before either Wang Zhi or Ding Rong could set the record straight, Frenchie jumped in. “No, a eunuch is a fiend who bakes foul cakes for witches to put on the Devil’s altar,” he said. He gave Roach a shove. “You better watch out or they’ll have your job!”

Roach shoved him back, and the entire room threatened to devolve into chaos until Lucius’ voice cut through the tumult. “Gentlemen, please excuse my moronic colleagues,” he said with a slight ironic bow to Wang Zhi and Ding Rong. Turning back towards everyone else, he said, “A eunuch is someone who has been castrated.”

Everyone nodded and said, “Ohhhhhhh” in sudden comprehension.

In the brief moment of quiet that followed, Wee John asked, “Then where do the deer come in?”

Before anyone could answer, Roach said, “Are you calling my cooking foul?” and shoved Frenchie again. Frenchie fell over into Wee John, who shoved him back, and the topic was forgotten in the ensuing uproar.

Black Pete leaned over and tapped Ding Rong on the shoulder. “That happened to me once,” he said in a confidential tone of voice.

“Castration?” Ding Rong asked.

“Yeah! I was on a raid with Blackbeard, before he was on this ship, and I got hit by an arrow right while I was doing something really badass!”

Wang Zhi lifted his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized.

Black Pete continued. “So I was just bending over to pick up some loot when WHAM, right in my backside!” He reached around to rub his butt.

“The arrow hit you in your… backside?” Ding Rong asked in confusion.

“Yeah! And it got infected and I couldn’t sit down for weeks. It was really gross. Pus kept squirting out everywhere,” he said enthusiastically.

“But it was only your… backside that was affected?” Wang Zhi asked.

“Right! I thought I’d have to get my butt amputated! But I didn’t. Still there.” He turned in his seat as if to offer proof and winked at Lucius, whose attention was mostly on avoiding the fray.

“So then it wasn’t actually castration,” Ding Rong said.

“Well, not really but also in a way it was, if you think about it,” said Black Pete.

“I’m already thinking about it, much to my sorrow, and I’m afraid I can’t agree,” said Wang Zhi.

“Well it COULD have been, if the arrow had hit a little higher and also in the front,” Black Pete persisted.

“But it didn’t. It hit you in the backside,” said Ding Rong.

“Well I guess that’s true, if you’re going to put it like that. So then maybe you could say it was more like castration of the butt,” Black Pete said.

“Hmm,” said Wang Zhi. Black Pete turned his attention back to the main group, where they were arguing about whether or not Roach knew how to cook venison. Wang Zhi cut his eyes towards Ding Rong. Ding Rong shrugged philosophically.

Chapter Text

Wang Zhi sipped his water ration slowly to make it last as he stared longingly at the distant lights twinkling across the water. Next to him, Ding Rong did the same, gazing at the distant lights twinkling in the opposite direction on the other side of the strait.

He held the last sip of water in his mouth as long as possible, hoping to fool his thirst into thinking he’d drank more.

“This is absurd,” Ding Rong said. “How many days have we been sitting here, baking in the sun?” Without swallowing the precious mouthful, Wang Zhi held up four fingers. “We’re less than a half-day sail from land in either direction, but because those idiots in the captains’ quarters are fighting about which port to go to, we’re rationing out the last of the sludge from the hold for our drinking water.”

Wang Zhi finally swallowed, too thirsty to even cringe at the scummy aftertaste anymore. “We need a plan,” he said. Ding Rong turned to look at him expectantly. It warmed Wang Zhi to his core that, despite their changed circumstances, Ding Rong still trusted him to determine the best path forward. He thought for a moment. “And we need to get them both to agree to it without being aware that the other has agreed.”

On the other side of the deck, Frenchie played his mandolute to soothe Roach, who was groaning and holding a cloth to his head. He’d gotten punched by Ivan in the fray that broke out that afternoon after Bonnet’s crew attempted to follow their captain’s orders, putting them in direct conflict with Blackbeard’s crew.

“There will be no swaying either of them on these ports, but maybe there’s some other land nearby?” Wang Zhi mused. “Go get a map from Captain Bonnet,” he ordered Ding Rong.

Dong Rong silently left and returned a few minutes later holding a scroll. “He was lying on his bed moaning again so I didn’t dare disturb him by asking permission.” His eyes twinkled slightly.

“Go get a candle,” Wang Zhi ordered. “How am I supposed to read this in the dark?”

Without saying anything, Ding Rong pulled a candle from his sleeve and lit it. They leaned over the map together, their heads occasionally touching.

“We should be about here,” Wang Zhi said, pointing. “This island to the North, Natuna, looks to be the closest land. Disregarding, of course, the ports that we've been staring at for the last four days.”

“That’s a full day’s backtrack,” Ding Rong grumbled.

“That may be so, but that’s still a faster solution than waiting for them to agree.”

Ding Rong snorted.

“So first, we need to find something that each captain will accept as a reason to abandon the port they’re advocating for,” Wang Zhi said. ”It doesn’t have to make sense. It just has to be enough for them to save face.”

“Maybe we could say that we thought we saw a British Navy ship headed that way?” Ding Rong suggested.

“That will do. Next, they have to each agree to change course for Natuna without knowing that the other has agreed.”

Ding Rong said something, but it was drowned out by the mandolute. “What?” Wang Zhi asked.

Ding Rong leaned in closer to him and said “Maybe we can lure one of them out of their quarters so they won’t overhear the conversation?”

Wang Zhi dismissed that out of hand. “When was the last time you saw either one of them go out?” In the stillness of the night, the twang of the mandolute was inescapable. He gritted his teeth in annoyance. He could barely hear himself think.

He sat up straight suddenly. “Ding Rong, I know what to do.”

He and Ding Rong very quickly spread the word amongst Captain Bonnet’s crew. Everyone was eager to break the impasse, and it took surprisingly little herding to get them lined up to go below decks.

Roach was still sitting on the deck, leaning against the bulkhead, holding the cloth to his head. Wang Zhi went over and extended a hand to help him to his feet. Instead, Roach pulled him down.

He vaguely waved his hand in front of his chest in an imitation of crossing himself. “My head hurts real bad. I need last rites, just in case.” He lifted the cloth to show the bloody, bruised area underneath.

“You’re going to be fine. Now let’s go,” Wang Zhi said impatiently and tried to stand.

Roach pulled him back down. “Bless me Father because I did some bad stuff, or whatever,” he said, looking furtively around. Satisfied that no one else was in earshot, he leaned in towards Wang Zhi.

“I’m not a priest! I keep telling you this!” Wang Zhi protested.

“I know. You’re a eunuch, obviously,” Roach said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, bless me because the other day, Frenchie left his dirty underwear on the floor—”

“That’s not what a eunuch is,” Wang Zhi said. He was ignored. He glared at Ding Rong who was smirking at him, knowing exactly what was happening.

“Anyway so I picked them up and I don’t know why but—”

“Let GO!” Wang Zhi unsuccessfully tried to pull his hand free.

“Ok well I do know why because I’ve done this before, so bless me for that too I guess. Anyway, after I picked them up, I took off my own underwear—”

“You’re blessed in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Son and the Holy Father,” Wang Zhi said desperately. Jim had told him a little…. very little… about how this rite was supposed to go.

“I am? Don’t you need to know what I did?” Roach asked.

“No! God already knows,” Wang Zhi said, using his eyes to beg Ding Rong for help. Ding Rong’s smirk grew wider. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the mast to enjoy the show.

“Then what penance should I do?” Roach asked.

“Say ‘Hello Mary’ five times?” Wang Zhi said. “Now we really must get started if we want this plan to work.” He finally pried his hand free.

Before he could stand up, Roach grabbed his hand again. “Five?” He looked disappointed. “I don’t think that’s enough. Because it wasn’t just that I took his underwear, it’s what I did with them next. So there I was standing naked, holding his underwear and they smelled REALLY bad, and it made me feel—”

“I meant five hundred!” Wang Zhi squawked. Roach looked like he was going to try to explain more. “Five thousand!” Sheer panic gave him the strength to jerk his hand free and leap to his feet. “Catch up with us after you finish.” He glared at Ding Rong who didn’t even have the grace to conceal his laughter.

Wang Zhi and Ding Rong made their way to the captains’ quarters. The rest of Stede’s crew was lined up just out of sight, waiting. The next part had to be timed precisely. Izzy opened the door to Wang Zhi’s knock. He looked like he wanted to refuse them entry out of hand, but Blackbeard saw them first.

“Bring them in, Izzy,” he ordered.

Wang Zhi and Ding Rong bowed to Blackbeard. Wang Zhi mentally counted to 5. Just as planned, the rest of the crew burst into Stede’s quarters.

“Captain, we’ve prepared a bit of entertainment for you, to try to cheer you up,” Lucius called in a sing-song voice.

“Please, I beg your forgiveness, but I’m afraid I’m not up to anything more than wallowing in misery tonight,” Stede said.

Blackbeard looked like he was going to yell some commentary, so Wang Zhi began talking.

“Wang Zhi has been carefully considering our current situation, “ he said slowly, buying time. Right on cue, the crew next door burst into loud song. Frenchie played his mandolute for all he was worth while the rest sang. Most of them were even singing the same song. It was deafening.

Rather than raise his voice, Wang Zhi approached Blackbeard more closely and leaned over the table. “We are in urgent need of water, and while Sambiliong is clearly the superior port of call, Ding Rong informs me that he saw the British Navy approaching there earlier today, so we can’t go there. Obviously, Bintulu is out of the question.“

“Obviously,” scoffed Blackbeard.

“But we must go somewhere. Fortunately, there’s another possibility. This map shows a large island, Natuna, about a day’s sail away. It could provide an ideal spot to lay low while we replenish our tanks. Ding Rong?” he held his hand out expectantly. Ding Rong rolled the map flat on the table for Blackbeard to look at it.

Blackbeard stroked his beard contemplatively as he looked at the map. “That just might work. But has that one,” he waved his hand towards the curtain dividing the room, “already agreed to it?”

Wang Zhi could barely hear Stede‘s shouted pleas for quiet next door. The crew’s singing somehow got even louder.

“Captain Blackbeard, we of course brought this to you immediately,” Wang Zhi said, bowing. “Your wisdom is without peer, and we see no reason to consult with anyone else.”

Blackbeard looked significantly at the curtain and nodded slowly and with full understanding. “I think I see why the two of you were advisors to the emperor.”

“I was an advisor, not Ding Rong. He was just my subordinate,” Wang Zhi said impatiently. No matter how many times he corrected people, they never seemed to remember that. Ding Rong stiffened next to him. Wang Zhi turned to look, but Ding Rong did not return his gaze.

“Izzy, set a heading towards Natuna,” Blackbeard commanded.

“There isn’t a bloody British ship within a thousand miles of us. Pretty fuckin stupid to go to some fuckin island when Sambiliong is already in sight,” Iggy protested.

“What part of that sounded like I was interested in your opinion?” Blackbeard roared over the music. “That was an order.”

Izzy muttered, “Yes Captain,” through gritted teeth. Wang Zhi did his best to ignore the long look that passed between Izzy and Ding Rong.

As soon as Izzy had left, Ding Rong and Wang Zhi joined the rest of the crew in Captain Bonnet’s side of the room. He was huddled on his bed, hands pressed to his ears, with the rest of the crew looming around him singing at the top of their lungs. Lucius knelt on the foot of the bed waving his arms as if he was conducting. He exchanged a conspiratorial look with Wang Zhi and made his arm movements more constrained. The crew’s volume dropped. Slightly. Wang Zhi didn’t waste time. He pried one of Captain Bonnet’s hands from his ear and began talking.

“Captain Bonnet, we’re in desperate need of water, and while sailing for Bintulu would be ideal, earlier today, Ding Rong saw a British naval ship heading that direction. Obviously, Sambiliong is right out of the question, but fortunately, there is an island about a day’s sail away.”

Stede didn’t even look at the map when Ding Rong held it out. “Was this Captain Blackbeard’s idea?” he demanded.

“Not at all. It was this one’s idea,” Wang Zhi reassured him.

“Very well. Your counsel is wise, as always, and I concur. And we mustn’t let on about our scheme, either. Else, I’m sure he would ruin it because he would let his ego get the best of him AS USUAL!” Although the last part was delivered at a shout, the crew successfully drowned it out.

Lucius said “We’ll go get right on this Captain. Mum’s the word.” He winked at Stede, who scrunched up his face to wink back. The crew quit singing and prepared to leave.

Just then, the door started to open. Wang Zhi froze, fearing Izzy had come to sabotage the scheme.

“Hello Mary, hello Mary, hello Mary. Done!” said Roach. He looked around the room. “Am I too late?”

Chapter Text

Ding Rong and Wang Zhi rolled out of the barrel with the rising sun, as they did every morning.

“Have you ever seen Izzy’s room?” Ding Rong asked casually. He used both hands to pull his head to one side, wincing as the stiffness in his neck began to give way.

Wang Zhi spun to look at him. “What, and you have?”

“Yes, he showed me. It seems very comfortable.” They both cringed at the pop in Ding Rong’s neck.

“When did you see his room?” Wang Zhi demanded.

“A few days ago. He was taking me on a tour of Blackbeard’s crew’s section of the ship,” Ding Rong said, switching directions to pull his neck to the other side.

Wang Zhi seethed and changed the subject to show that he didn’t care in the least about Izzy taking Ding Rong to his bedroom. “What’s wrong with your neck? My neck gets a little stiff, but never that bad.” he asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He wasn’t jealous, obviously. But as Ding Rong’s superior, if Izzy was going to show Ding Rong something, he should have come to Wang Zhi first. They certainly shouldn’t be sneaking around together like that.

Ding Ring looked at him incredulously. “It’s because I’m the big spoon every single night. You rest your head on my arm, which sometimes makes it go numb by the way, but I don’t have anything to lay my head on.”

“Oh.” Wang Zhi felt some chagrin.

“Izzy has an actual pillow,” Ding Rong mentioned, seemingly as an afterthought.

Wang Zhi stormed off.

In the late afternoon, there was never anyone belowdecks, so that was when Wang Zhi chose to explore. Most of the crew had shared rooms, so he focused on those who didn’t. He didn’t feel capable of deposing more than one person with such short notice. Roach was his first choice, mostly because he already seemed to spend a fair bit of time in Frenchie’s room and therefore might not be strongly opposed to Wang Zhi’s moving in.

He quietly pushed open the door and wrinkled his nose as the smell hit him almost palpably. It was even worse in here than in the rest of the ship, which was truly an achievement. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that Roach appeared to be aging a side of beef over his bed. The mattress looked strange, so he nudged it with his toe. Its constituent parts rolled around, and a closer look revealed that it was just a giant bag of onions. That wouldn’t be good for Ding Rong’s neck, he decided.

Frenchie’s room was his next choice. Looking around, he found nothing objectionable. Well, that was that, Wang Zhi decided. Frenchie would have to find a way to make Roach’s room habitable or get used to the deck.

He returned topside to begin the character assassination that would win him his room. He had already determined that Lucius would be the best vector to spread the first round of suspicion.

He sidled up to Lucius casually. “Lucius, if I may interrupt for a moment,” he said, bowing his head modestly. “But you’ve likely heard some of the gossip. You strike me as an excellent judge of character, and I certainly trust your word over Frenchie’s…” He paused expectantly, waiting for Lucius to take the bait and fill in the blanks.

“Oh, is this about the chicken? Well, look, that was ages ago, and honestly? I’ve moved on. No matter what anyone says.” Lucien stuck his chin out resolutely.

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that he would be bringing it up now?”

“Odd for normal people? Perhaps. Odd for him? Who could even say. That one has a lot of Big Ideas, if you know what I mean.” Lucius raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Then you’d say he’s a bit of a schemer?” Wang Zhi tutted. “And with a room all to himself, what do you suppose he’s doing in there?”

“UGH don’t REMIND me!” Lucius buried his face in his hands dramatically. “Black Pete and I share a wall with him so we know exactly what he’s doing, how often, and for how long. Plus, he leaves his dirty underwear everywhere. And then Roach comes along and… well… Truly it would drive a saint mad.”

Wang Zhi waited a moment, then continued. “So not only is he scheming and gossiping about you, he’s also unpleasant to have as a neighbour. Was he always in that room, or did he do something unsavoury to get it?”

“No, he’s a founding member of the crew; he’s been in that room from the beginning.” Lucius gave Wang Zhi a long, appraising look. “But what’s all this actually about?”

Wang Zhi internally cringed. Barely a month away from the Ming and already, he’d apparently lost all powers of subtlety.

“OH!” Lucius exclaimed, finally getting the drift. “You’re angling for his room. Yeah this isn’t how you go about it with this lot. It’s going to take a bit of mild-to-moderate bloodshed, likely more on the moderate side. Perhaps even a nice stabbing.” He nodded as if agreeing with himself.

“There’s gonna be a stabbing?” Black Pete joined Lucius at the railing.

“Wang Zhi has his eye on Frenchie’s room,” Lucius explained.

Black Pete nodded knowingly. “Oh yeah, the barrel is fine for the bachelor life, but not once you’ve settled down with someone.” He looked affectionately at Lucius. “So you’re going to stab Frenchie? Do you even know how to stab?”

“Oh come on babe, does he look like he knows how to stab?” Lucius said, leaning against Black Pete.

“I know how to stab!” Wang Zhi protested.

“Yeah but not like in a knife fight, right?” Black Pete snorted. “It doesn’t count if the other person is chained up.”

Wang Zhi shrugged. Black Pete had him there. “Anyway, no one is getting stabbed!”

“Who’s getting stabbed?” Wee John asked from over Wang Zhi’s shoulder.

“No one!” Wang Zhi said, simultaneously with Black Pete saying, “Wang Zhi’s going to stab Frenchie.”

“Do you even know how to stab anyone?” Wee John asked.

“He doesn’t,” answered Black Pete. “I’d offer to teach him, but I’m really more of a swordsman.”

“You can say that again,” Lucius said lasciviously. “You certainly are very adept at impaling.”

“Thanks babe, you’re pretty good at it yourself.” Black Pete winked cartoonishly at Lucius, as if there could be any doubt what they were talking about.

“We’re talking about swords,” Lucius said to the rest of the group.

“Yeah we are,” said Black Pete, waggling his eyebrows as he threw his arm over Lucius’ shoulder.

Wang Zhi was relieved when Wee John interrupted. “Well if you don’t know how to stab, that’s going to be a problem.”

“Is someone getting stabbed?” Roach asked gleefully.

Wang Zhi sighed.

“Wang Zhi is going to stab Frenchie,” said Wee John.

Roach’s grin grew wider. “When?”

“I’m not going to stab anyone!” Wang Zhi protested.

“Well yeah, not if you’re trying to stab Frenchie,” Roach shook his head incredulously. “He’s probably the second-best stabber on board, after Jim.”

“What’s this about Jim?” Olu popped up at his elbow. Wang Zhi sighed again.

“Oh, Wang Zhi is going to stab Frenchie,” Wee John explained.

Olu winced. “No offence, but I don’t see that going well for you,” he said to Wang Zhi.

“Well I’m not going to stab him,” Wang Zhi argued.

“Obviously,” Black Pete scoffed. “Because he’ll definitely stab you first.”

“It really doesn’t seem fair,” said Olu thoughtfully. “You probably haven’t had much stabbing practice. At least not in an actual fight, when the other person isn’t in chains.”

Wang Zhi narrowed his eyes. What on earth had Ding Rong been telling these people? It was correct, of course. But he had some nerve.

“We were just saying that someone ought to teach him,” said Wee John.

“That makes sense.” He paused, thinking. “Hmm, well Jim is obviously the best at stabbing.” As he said that, Jim materialised and nodded without a shred of humility. Olu looked at them fondly. “Though I can’t see them teaching you.” Jim rolled their eyes at the idea. Olu thought more. “But Frenchie is probably the second-best stabber on board. You really don’t want to go against him unprepared.”

“Maybe Frenchie could teach him. Just to give him a little practice before they go at it,” Wee John suggested.

“He doesn’t need to teach me because I’m not going to try to stab him,” Wang Zhi said, wondering why he was even bothering to argue the point anymore.

“When will the stabbing commence?” Buttons loomed over Wang Zhi’s shoulder.

“Any minute now,” said Roach. “Frenchie is in the hold getting more pitch, but he’ll be back soon.” He eagerly looked over his shoulder to check.

“Aye, then I’ll go get the mop. There’s bound to be rivers of blood.” Buttons grabbed the mop and immediately returned.

Wang Zhi looked up from the crowd assembled around him to see Ding Rong smirking at him from the other side of the deck. He gestured for help and was infuriated when Ding Rong responded by ostentatiously taking a spectator’s seat on a coil of rope.

Roach looked over his shoulder again. “Hey Frenchie, come over here!”

Frenchie joined the throng. “What’s going on?”

“Rivers of blood, I tell ye. Veritable seas,” Buttons intoned darkly.

“Wang Zhi is going to stab you!” Black Pete said enthusiastically.

“Oh,” Frenchie blinked and turned to Wang Zhi. “Do you even know how to stab?”

“I’m not going to stab you!” Wang Zhi argued.

“Well yeah, obviously not. I’m the second-best stabber on board. You don’t stand a chance.”

“We said you’d teach him, to even things out a bit,” said Wee John.

Frenchie nodded. “That seems fair. Look, let’s have a go at it now and then you can stab me later. Come on.” He clambered onto the poop deck and gestured for Wang Zhi to follow.

“Do you even have a knife?” Black Pete whispered. When Wang Zhi shook his head in despair, he pressed one into his hands. “You can borrow my personal dagger. Good luck!”

Wang Zhi tried to resist, but many hands pushed him forwards until he had joined Frenchie on the poop deck. He looked down. Ding Rong had stood up, actually looking a bit alarmed now.

“So here are your basic stabbing motions.” Frenchie swung his dagger wildly around in the air. “Now you give it a try.”

Wang Zhi flailed around while Frenchie offered him the odd bit of correction. After a few minutes, he pronounced Wang Zhi ready to learn the next step.

“Now, as you know, the thing about the killing blow is that you have to turn the knife at a 45 degree angle to the earth,” he explained.

“You do?” Wang Zhi asked.

“Oh, you don’t know that?” Frenchie looked at him quizzically. “Then it’s a good job you asked me for some stabbing lessons. But yeah, hard to kill without it. All the blood in the body is aligned with the crystals in the earth and that’s what keeps you alive, obviously. Getting stabbed isn’t that big a deal if the knife is also in alignment with the crystals, but turning it to the side breaks the connection.” He stabbed at the air a few times in demonstration. “Why did you want to stab me, by the way?”

“I wanted to try to get your room.” There didn’t seem to be a point in denying the stabbing part anymore.

“Oh, is that all? Why didn't you just say so?” Wang Zhi let out a long breath of relief when Frenchie put his knife away. Looking down at the deck, it looked like Ding Rong was doing the same.

“Well I didn’t really get a chance…” Wang Zhi tried to explain.

“A room really isn’t worth stabbing for. I mean, sweet of you to try, but.” Frenchie considered for a moment. “Look, if it means that much to you, maybe you can just share my room sometimes?”

Wang Zhi found himself shockingly moved for someone who had been scheduled for a stabbing. “Thank you for the offer. I truly appreciate it. And for the stabbing lessons. But no, I’m happy with the barrel.”

“Ahhhhh, I see how it is.” Frenchie gestured with his chin towards Ding Rong.

“That’s how it is,” said Wang Zhi.

That night, as they prepared for bed, Ding Rong asked, “Were you really planning to get stabbed by Frenchie just to get us a room?”

Wang Zhi sighed. “Stabbing was their idea, not mine. I was going to try to do what we normally do.”

“Turn the tide of opinion against him and leave him in disgrace so that it naturally followed that we would move into his room?” asked Ding Rong.

“Precisely.”

Ding Rong chuckled at his naivete. “That’s not the way things work on a pirate ship.”

“So I gathered.”

Ding Rong lay in the barrel and opened his arms for Wang Zhi to lay down.

“I’ll be the big spoon tonight,” Wang Zhi said. “You can rest your neck.”

Ding Rong raised his eyebrows in surprise, but rolled forward to let Wang Zhi squeeze in behind him.

Wang Zhi embraced him fiercely, reminded of Izzy’s temerity all over again. “He offered to let me share his room sometimes, but I turned it down because I didn’t want to sleep without you.”

Ding Rong cuddled against him and pillowed his head on Wang Zhi’s arm. He took Wang Zhi’s hand in his and said, “I’m glad you didn’t get stabbed.”

“Me too.” Wang Zhi pulled him closer and sighed. The pleasure of holding him close was almost enough to make him forget the pain in his neck. Almost.

Chapter Text

“We’ve been through so many dangerous, potentially fatal things together, but none of them were this moronic,” Ding Rong said. He half-turned in Wang Zhi’s arms so he could roll his eyes.

Wang Zhi felt Izzy’s gaze on them from the prow, so he bundled Ding Rong closer and ran his fingers through his hair. Ding Rong sighed contentedly. “It’s true. I’d certainly rather we not die, but if we must, I’d rather it be to preserve the Ming—yes, even now—” he said, feeling Ding Rong start in surprise, “than for this complete farce.”

“All we have to do is sail north or south. Simple,” Ding Rong complained. “But no. Typhoon season is coming on fast, and we’re anchored right in the middle of Typhoon Alley.”

Wang Zhi noticed Izzy pacing and seething in rage as he watched them. He probably wanted to order them to swab the deck just to get Ding Rong out of Wang Zhi’s arms. However, they were technically Stede’s crew, so the rules of the ship’s fragile detente demanded that he ignore them. Well, he ignored them in his capacity as Blackbeard’s first mate anyway. As a man, he paid far more attention to Ding Rong than Wang Zhi would have liked.

“Maybe we could repeat the trick we used with the water,” Wang Zhi said.

“No,” said Ding Rong remorsefully. “That only worked because we had a third option, so neither of them had to accept the other’s choice. North or south doesn’t give us much to work with.”

“Hmm. We shouldn’t waste time on any more temporary solutions. We have to get them back together,” Wang Zhi said.

“Or we could get rid of one of them,” Ding Rong suggested.

Wang Zhi immediately dismissed the idea. “Stede’s an idiot. I don’t know how his crew survived under him. And Blackbeard as captain with Izzy as first mate? Far too cutthroat, literally, for me.”

“I don’t know, I think things would go well for me if Izzy were first mate,” Ding Rong said mischievously.

Wang Zhi snorted and jostled him. Ding Rong chuckled. The moment was almost homey, at least if Wang Zhi ignored literally everything else about the setting. Although the Revenge was beginning to feel homier than he was entirely comfortable with.

They thought in silence for several more minutes as the sun started to dip below the horizon. The ship was unusually quiet, and Wang Zhi clearly heard Izzy cracking his knuckles in agitation as he watched them. He chose that moment to lean forward and nuzzle Ding Rong’s cheek. Ding Rong turned towards him in surprise.

“Is Izzy watching or something?” Ding Rong asked. His knowing smile, so familiar to Wang Zhi, made his chest feel almost unbearably full.

“Yes,” he admitted, then hugged Ding Rong more tightly for reasons entirely unrelated to Izzy.

“Pervert,” Ding Rong said playfully, swatting Wang Zhi’s hand. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back comfortably into Wang Zhi’s embrace.

“So how are we going to do it?” Ding Rong murmured to Wang Zhi the next morning as they finished their breakfast.

“Whatever we do, we have to get Izzy out of the way first,” Wang Zhi said.

Ding Rong looked at him, eyes twinkling. “Of course the first thing you want to do is get Izzy out of the way.”

Wang Zhi said primly, “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

Ding Rong raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Wang Zhi turned around to a tap on his shoulder to see Black Pete looking unusually bashful and concealing something in his hands.

“Hey, so, anyways, you might not know, but I’m kind of into wood carving, and I made you two a little something, but it’s really no big deal, so if you don’t want it, I understand, and you don’t even have to ever mention it again, but—”

Wang Zhi interrupted. “What a kind gesture. Would you please show us?”

“Oh well, ok,” Black Pete said. “I thought maybe the two of you might get homesick sometimes, you know, miss your old lives, so I carved you this.” He opened his hands to reveal a tiny rough-hewn deer.

Ding Rong reverently lifted it from his hands and held it to the light. “It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Oh, you’re just saying that,” Black Pete said, looking at the ground in embarrassment.

“It is one of the best gifts I have ever received,” Wang Zhi said. “I mean it.” He did mean it, much to his surprise. A month ago, he would have collapsed in laughter. Now, he was almost moved to tears. “Thank you.”

Black Pete grinned at him, but before he could say anything, Roach burst into the room.

“Bless me fathers because I did that one bad thing again!”