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By the third time Shen Jiu spotted the pale rider, he knew he was the only one who could see him. He didn’t know why that was, only that the man walked through a crowded market without drawing anyone’s eye, where no one seemed to bump him or his horse, just passed him by like he wasn’t there.
But he was there. Shen Jiu could smell him. It was an earthy, chilling kind of smell like when the wind blew up from the west and the village smelled like the freshly burned funeral pyres. His horse was a dappled gray, a tad sickly looking but it never faltered, and it had a smell too, but nothing like the horse smell in the stables Shen Jiu sometimes slept. It was the smell of bones and mushrooms, like moss in the woods. It made his hair stand on end when he smelt them and turned to look, this ghostly pair.
No one saw him, but he saw Shen Jiu. He wore armor like some warrior of old, but the polish was gone. It lay over the man’s frame like something broken, though no pieces ever fell off. Shen Jiu knew that too, for he’d followed him one day on the off chance a piece would come off. Unpolished or not, metal was metal and the blacksmith would pay for something to reform. His face was obscured by a ratted black cloth over his mouth and nose and a helmet took over the rest, leaving just two black eyes to watch him.
And he was watched. Shen Jiu knew it like a touch on his skin. This stranger no one could see was often already looking his way when Shen Jiu stole a peek. Even as the world moved on around the ghostly figure, the man simply stood and watched and waited, nodding every so often when he caught Shen Jiu’s eye. What he could be waiting for, Shen Jiu didn’t know, but it made him curious. His usual wariness of the world vanished somewhere in those eyes, dark and tempting. There were secrets there, promises, and Shen Jiu maybe knew little of the world, but he knew that whatever this man was, he was alluring. Dangerously so.
His world had a certain pattern to it. He would wake up from whatever hole he’d squeezed into, berate Qi-ge for snoring in his ear, and sleuth off to steal some food for them. He’d pick fights, run from dogs, take beatings, and feel a strain in his stomach all day, no matter how many mouthfuls he managed to scrounge up, before falling asleep for the night in a new corner. Every day the same. The world moved in a grayscale beat, never stopping, just plowing forward, but when he saw the pale rider, something always stopped. The mud seemed a little more brown, the sky a little more blue, and those eyes all the more striking for their darkness.
He was nine and world-weary when he finally approached the stranger. He expected the pale rider to stop and let Shen Jiu pass by like the rest of the world seemed to, but that was not what happened at all. He turned to lead his horse into a side alley and, fearing he was running, Shen Jiu took off at a quicker pace, sliding through the mud to keep up.
The man came to an abrupt halt, leaving Shen Jiu to collide with his leg. That earthy smell was strong in his nose now, tingling and everything Shen Jiu suddenly wanted very much. Two gloved hands gently settled on his bony shoulders and then the rider knelt before him, his dark gaze flicking up to meet his own.
There was… familiarity there, something warm and almost loving. Shen Jiu didn’t understand it, but ached for it all the same, even as he bluntly demanded, “Who are you?”
He couldn’t see the smile, but it made the man’s eyes crinkle in a way that made his stomach flutter with something other than hunger. He stared as that darkness warmed into a starry sky, beckoning him to fall into them.
“He said you were so tiny at this age,” the man mused and moved his hand to scrub some dirt from Shen Jiu’s cheek. He pulled away half-heartedly, not understanding the other's words or the care in his eyes. No one cared for Shen Jiu but Qi-ge. That was just how the world worked.
“I don’t know any he,” he snipped back, covering his bafflement with his usual bite. Those eyes just crinkled more at his efforts and another spot of dirt was wiped off his cheek. He blushed furiously and crossed his arms in petulant defiance. “Who are you?”
“You’ll know when you’re older. It’s not time yet,” was the cryptic answer, sweet and gentle and teasing. It pulled his heart like a string was attached and he planted his feet all the more firmly, refusing to give in.
“That’s not an answer,” he scoffed in all his nine year old wisdom. “Why can’t anyone see you? Why only me? Am I dreaming you up?”
“You’ll know when you’re older,” the man said again, making him growl in frustration. The sound only made those smiling eyes laugh all the more, much to his fluttery, angry confusion. “But no, I’m not a dream.”
This qualified as a conversation, and yet, somehow, Shen Jiu had learned nothing. A group of kids ran by the alley, catching his eye, and then the man stood, his hand gently pushing him back out into the sunlight.
He balked. “Wait. Who is he?” he demanded, wiggling free and spinning to face him. “Who knows a nobody? You’re not making sense!”
Something wistful crossed over those eyes, then a low chuckle left the man. It was warm, sweet, and shivered over him like a kiss.
“Someone I love very much,” he said and shooed Shen Jiu further into the street. “Go play. I will see you soon.”
Shen Jiu huffed, abruptly done with this weirdness, and turned heel to go, though not before stomping the strange man’s foot before fleeing. Laughter followed in his wake, chasing after his footsteps like a ghost.
---
The days flitted by in an endless haze. He was aware of time passing, of changing, but not of the specific measure. It felt like one day he was nine and staring down into dark, depthless eyes. The next he was fifteen and standing amidst a massacre.
His breathing was shallow, his hands sure on his blade. Distantly, he could hear blood dripping from the sword, from his own wounds, and stared, transfixed, at the way the red flooded tiles of the courtyard glowed under the backlight of fire that had enveloped two walls of the mansion and continued to spread.
He knew time was short. If he didn’t leave now, the doors would burn behind him, locking him inside the flames, but he couldn’t quite make himself move. Perhaps it was better to die here, he thought, than flee this place a murderer.
Then he smelt it: earth and ash, moss and moisture. Shen Jiu turned his head and there he stood, waiting at the gates. The fire cast an eerie glow over the horse, who’s eyes pierced him like two burning blades. The man’s eyes were kinder when Shen Jiu stepped free of the building, his sword falling from his grip, and gave into his exhaustion.
He was aware of strong arms hoisting him up and up, then the sway of a horse’s gait. He closed his eyes to the fire and opened them in the darkness of a starlit sky framed by a bracket of trees. The horse was still walking peacefully along, led in silence by its rider, and Shen Jiu slowly sat upright in the saddle, looking down at him. By now, the man was a constant presence in the corner of his eye, a flutter in his heart, and even with a strange grip on time, he knew he was always there, watching and waiting. Shen Jiu still didn’t know what for, or who, nor did he understand him. The man spoke to him like a lover, like someone who knew his heart, like every word his spoke was something Shen Jiu should know, or would know, given time. It was maddening, confusing, and made his heart flutter in ways it shouldn’t. He didn’t know this man, but this man knew him. Perhaps that was enough.
“Who are you?” he asked, as he always did, voice hoarse from smoke and silent screaming.
“You’ll know when you’re older,” the man gave the usual answer, a smile in his voice as he looked up at Shen Jiu. His hand cupped around his ankle and even with the glove Shen Jiu could feel a sense of alluring warmth. “It’s not time yet.”
“When will it be time?” he asked, hands shaking as they gripped both saddle and mane. The horse tossed its head and flicked its tail, almost prancing with him on its back. He wondered why it felt so normal to be sitting astride a horse when he’d never before rode one.
“He said you were stubborn,” the man said, lovingly, and Shen Jiu had never before hated this he so much in his life.
“Who is this he?” he demanded, as always, and was already rolling his eyes before the answer came.
“You’ll know when you’re older,” said the man, his fingers gentle on his foot. The horse walked out through a cluster of trees and onto an overlook, where the expanse of open skies stretched out in an endless blanket of darkness and light. Shen Jiu’s breath caught and the pain he felt vanished. For one hopeful, floating moment, it was just the two of them and the rest of the world. He wondered why that felt right too.
Then the hand moved to his hand, squeezed once. He was unconscious before he even fell out of the saddle and into waiting arms.
---
“Who are you?” Shen Jiu breathed, half delirious from hunger and thirst. In the dilapidated ruins of the temple, the rider sat before him with a bowl of soup that tasted like nothing, but Shen Jiu drank it down with greedy, shaking hands.
“You’ll know when you’re older,” he said and tipped the bowl for him so none of it spilled. Time was once more hazy and uncontrollable, and he knew he was older, lost to the world and on the run for murder. He was eighteen, something in him remembered. Older, but not old enough. “It’s not time yet.”
“When will it be time?” he asked, tired as he was of starving. There was no more Qi-ge or familiar streets. All his life was running and hiding, running and hiding, and doing his best to survive. He wasn’t sure he was even doing it properly, but the rider didn’t even waver.
He caught Shen Jiu’s head and gently lowered him into a curled position on the floor. There was his earthy smell under his cheek and Shen Jiu realized he was being cradled in a lap. Gentle hands caressed his hair, so tender and loving and familiar, with no hesitance. These were hands that knew him intimately and his body burned in the wanting of more. Exhausted as he was, he could only cry softly as a thumb caressed his cheek, surrounding him in warmth for the first time in years.
“He said you were tired,” the man said in some regret, but the love in his voice was plain. Shen Jiu felt a rush of anger for this he that dared to steal this man’s love before he could. It was an irrational anger, but a real one, and he gripped the man’s hand with the last of his strength.
“Who is he who leaves you so alone?” he asked, not even sure what he was saying. He saw the rider so often but never was there another at his side. No one but the horse and surely he wasn’t talking of that creature?
“Someone I love very, very much,” the man said, his eyes crinkled in a smile. “You’ll know when you’re older. Sleep.”
He didn’t want to sleep, but was pulled under anyway in a wave of sweet surrender. He dreamed of a dappled horse playing in the sun with a black horse hurrying to catch up. They twirled and danced, pawed at the earth, and when their noses touched he opened his eyes to the silence of a waterlogged ruin, with water dripping on his cheek and utterly, coldly, alone.
---
“Is it time?” Shen Jiu rasped, collapsed in a puddle as the rain came down, churning the mud around him a sickly color of blood and earth. He could smell moss and promise, warmth and hope, and as his head was gently cradled, he looked up into dark, dark eyes and felt his heart give a weak, sweet flutter.
The man said nothing, just held his face in his hands and bowed his head, taking in the damage that had been a last second scuffle to save a child. Shen Jiu wasn’t even sure why he’d done it, beyond that the asshole hurting the little girl had reminded him of his own slavers, so long ago. Without food in his gut or a weapon in his hand, he’d started the fight.
A sword had finished it, swift and cutting. Ironic, he thought, that he should die like some kind of sad hero, instead of executed for murder.
“It’s time,” the man said, gently sweeping back his bangs. “I’m glad to have met you, Shen Jiu.”
“Who are you?” he pleaded and tried to lift his hand to catch the other’s. His fingers were squeezed and he felt that warmth, even through silk and leather. He did his best to squeeze back.
“Someone who loves you very, very much,” said the man, who held their joined hands to his heart. With his other, he removed his helmet, revealing a mop of short hair, and leaned down to kiss his forehead with his masked lips. Shen Jiu’s pain slipped away the moment he was touched and the world once more regained color, especially as he looked up into those loving, gentle eyes. “Now, it’s time to wake up. We have work to do.”
The words made no sense, but he gave in with all his might, and as Shen Jiu fell away into a rainy sky, he felt time stop and shift a different direction, pulling him along into a void of warmth and light. Helpless against it, he embraced the faraway feeling of a kiss upon his head and rain on his face, and when he opened his eyes again, he was leaning against a tree, the sound of rain heavy on the bowing leaves.
This world was hazy but green, moist and earthy. He could smell every droplet hitting the ground, every scratch of moss at his back. He took a breath of it, breathed in deep and slow, and felt his body come back to life.
Another smell reached his nose, sharp and familiar. The smell of fire and sprouted grain, ashes and soot. He lifted a hand even before he could see his horse, who nosed his fingers with happily quivering black lips.
Then, footsteps. He knew them by the beat of his heart, the way he breathed, moved, and smelled. His other hand lifted and was caught in a warm, gentle squeeze.
“Have a good sleep?” asked his rider, who knelt down before him with his smiling eyes. Shen Jiu breathed out and shakily pulled down the mask, revealing the face beneath. The full lips, the beauty mark under them, the dimples of his cheeks.
“How long?” he asked, cupping his hand through that short, soft hair. Shen Yuan came easily, pulled in with a smile, and allowed himself to be kissed. It further sharpened his clarity of the world, the colors and smells. He gripped Shen Yuan tight and kissed him again, a little more urgently, until the other laughed softly into his lips.
“Too long without you. He was very upset you left me alone for so long,” Shen Yuan murmured, amused and sweet, and cupped the side of Shen Jiu’s face with glittering, star filled eyes. “You were right. He was so small at that age. And stubborn, and tired. He was strong, too. I wish I could have told him before he became you.”
“He knows,” Shen Jiu murmured back, his heart giving that all too familiar flutter. He smiled slightly and was kissed for it, then Shen Yuan’s hands were gripping his own, pulling him to his feet. He felt oddly rooted to where he’d been sitting, a sure sign his sleep had indeed been a long one. Long enough to relive most of his mortal life with Shen Yuan ever watchful over him. He swayed a bit on his feet and his horse came to steady him with its head, while Shen Yuan braced him on the other side, smiling up at him with so much care and love the world took on a golden haze.
“He knows I love him, too, I hope,” Shen Yuan said then, tilting his head in something like a tease and a lot like devotion. Shen Jiu’s heart fluttered all the more, an echo of past and future, to see him smile. “Even then. I loved him.”
“He knows,” Shen Jiu assured, cheeks warming at such insistence. There’d been a time Shen Yuan hadn’t been able to speak the words without a flush, or a stammer. Even now his ears were pink with such blatant confessions, and Shen Jiu had to snort at the sight. “He knows, husband.”
“Good,” Shen Yuan said, pink in the face and on tiptoe to kiss him. Their lips met in a warm, sweet slide that made his toes curl in his boots. They stayed that way a long moment, re-familiarizing themselves with each other’s lips and taste, before Shen Yuan finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, hands curling softly into his nape. “It’s time.”
“I know,” Shen Jiu breathed out, already feeling the pull. It didn’t stop him from stealing one final kiss before he turned to his horse. It was already tacked up, ready for him, and he smiled a little as he checked the girth, already knowing Shen Yuan would have everything as he liked it. Truly, no one knew him better.
“Another drought, another year. This season will be a long one,” he mused as he turned back to Shen Yuan. His husband already had his mask back up and his helmet on and held out Shen Jiu’s own with his ever crinkled eyes.
“You’ve rested long enough,” Shen Yuan said and Shen Jiu could only smile as he tucked on the helmet and smoothed his hands down his armor, which gleamed black in the rainy sun. “Death doesn’t wait forever.”
Shen Jiu raised an eyebrow at that and followed him to the edge of the clearing, their horses shadowing them like ghosts. “You waited for me,” he pointed out and caught Shen Yuan’s hand one last time, unable to stop himself.
Even without seeing his smile, Shen Jiu knew it was crooked and true, a tad embarrassed, and the fingers that squeezed his were almost shy. “Well, you were worth waiting for. So was he, for that matter.”
Shen Jiu snorted and gave Shen Yuan’s hand a return squeeze. “He knows that,” he promised, and felt that old life warm into something golden and rested, at last at peace in the flutter of his heart. “He knows.”