Work Text:
To be fair, he did not intend to live.
He had left the pearl. He had written the letter. He had the pills. Lin Chen–and he trusted Lin Chen with his life, quite literally–had told him that not even Heaven could bring him back, if he took the pills. What more could be ask for, than to die in the way he had always assumed, as a boy, that he would die: with a sword in his hand, for the glory of the Empire.
(Well, as close to it, anyway. He knew that Meng wouldn't let him anywhere near the fighting; nor would Fei Liu let him come to any harm, at least not while he still drew breath–and Lin Shu was hardly going to let anything happen to Fei Liu. But still. It would count. He would make it count.)
And so he had no regrets, when he closed his eyes for what he assumed would be the last time. Every part of him hurt, inside and out; he had coughed up what must have been every bit of blood in his body; and yet he was at peace, because this, at last, was a choice he had made for himself.
He smiled.
—
For a moment–or, more probably, for many, many moments–he did not know where he was, or even who he was. In all likelihood, it took him a long time to even recognize that he was conscious at all. But once he understood and acknowledged his own consciousness, there followed the thought: I am alive.
And then, once he recalled who he was: I am alive?
He began to recognize the edges of his body. He had skin (he could feel that it was warm); he had hands (someone was holding his hand, or rather, his wrist); he had a tongue (he was, oh, so thirsty).
He was tired. He was still in pain. That seemed unfair.
"Changsu?"
That sound was irritating, for some reason.
"Your pulse changed. I know you're awake."
Mei Changsu was also aware that he was awake. However, it was taking monumental effort to open his eyes, or move his fingers, or do anything to signal that he knew that he was awake.
Was there even a good reason to signify his consciousness, anyway?
He felt his arm gently lowered to his side by the bed, and his head was cradled upward instead. A moment later, he felt something pushed rather ungently against his lips.
"Drink, if you can. You've been asleep for nearly three days. It would be a shame if you died of thirst now, and as your physician I would die of shame for letting it happen."
Fingers gently pried his teeth apart, and the tiniest trickle crossed his parched tongue. It stopped none too soon, because for a moment Changsu wasn't sure he remembered how to swallow, and he had a moment of panic when he feared he might somehow drown while lying in bed. But his body remembered how to cough, if nothing else, and after that it remembered how to swallow.
"That's good." The voice held a note of real pride, as if watching a child take their first unsteady steps. "Once more, then."
It happened twice more, and after that Changsu was as exhausted as if he'd just scaled a mountain with a horse tied to his back. The other person must have recognized that, because the cup was not offered to him again, and his head was placed back down on the bolster.
After that, he was no longer conscious.
—
It was easier, the next time, to know that he was awake. He was in less pain then, and his thoughts slightly less sluggish. He was faster to find his hands, his feet, his tongue, his eyelids. He was able to open his eyes, even, though it was difficult to focus on anything.
"Mn," he said.
A rustle nearby, and he could see something come into his field of vision. He guessed that it was a person.
"Ah, you've deigned to rejoin us once again," Lin Chen drawled. "Welcome back, welcome back, young master. Auntie Ji would ask, have you eaten? And then thrust some food on you regardless of the answer. But I have no manners, so I won't even ask."
His head was cradled again, and again a bowl was held to his lips. Unlike last time, Changsu could smell that it was broth. His mouth somehow watered, though a moment ago he could have sworn that there was no moisture left in his body. He managed a trickle, like last time, and then a trickle after that. It was bitter from herbs, and deeply savory. Changsu was quite certain he had never had anything better in his life.
"Okay, that's enough for now," said Lin Chen, after Changsu had drunk half the bowl. He let Changsu back down against the bolster.
Changsu tried to clear his throat and couldn't. He rasped out anyway: "How…?"
"I'm afraid I have to take credit for your continued life," Lin Chen said, making clanking noises from somewhere outside Changsu's field of vision. "You didn't think I followed you all the way to that accursed battlefield really just to watch you die, did you? Well, I would have, if I'd had to, but I didn't have to, because I am a genius, and because I thought that perhaps if I had access to some of those Meiling snow beetles that I might…"
Now Changsu was tired for a different reason, and he stopped listening. "Why…?"
"Because you ought to live, you ninny."
"Mmm." Changsu closed his eyes again.
—
He was able to stay awake longer, after that, and to drink more broth, although it wasn't quite as delicious after that first time. He was eventually allowed congee, then congee with pickles, then eggs. Changsu was ravenous in a way he couldn't remember being since he'd been a teenager.
Fei Liu came by from time to time with floral arrangements or toys, or to simply declare that Lin Chen was bullying him again; and so did Physician Yan and of course Lin Chen, to take his pulse and feed him bowls of medicine. But much of the time Changsu was alone, sometimes drowsing and sometimes just staring at the ceiling of what he now recognized as his old quarters in Langya Hall.
"I don't know what to do," he said at last, one evening when Lin Chen had come by with a bowl of black, bitter broth that smelled strongly of pork.
"Eat your medicine," Lin Chen told him, and Changsu did as he was told. "What do you mean, you don't know what to do? What needs to be done?"
"I don't know. That's the problem." Changsu stared down into his empty bowl, tiny grains of sediment adhering to the bottom and the sides. His other hand curled into his blankets. "Jingyan is on the throne. Xia Dong is reunited with her husband. Nihuang is looked after. I never imagined this much of a future for myself. There is no place for me here."
"So you mean you have no plans. How sad for you, such possibilities stretch limitless before you, who have had your life returned to you by miracles." Lin Chen took his bowl. "How terrible."
Changsu considered being annoyed and realized that he didn't have the energy. He lay back down and pulled the covers up over his chest. "I wasn't supposed to live," he said, and hated how plaintively it came out.
"Well, what do you want to do? Eh? You could continue on as an advisor and a strategist to kings. Any of the kingdoms would have you." Something must have shown on Changsu's face, because Lin Chen chuckled. "Tired of politics, are you? There's always the jianghu. The Jiangzuo Alliance would surely welcome back their Chief Mei. Or you could wander the country with your mount and your wine, and write poetry and travelogues."
"I am not tired of politics," Changsu said. He stared at the ceiling and thus did not see Lin Chen's smirk, but somehow he could hear it.
"Ah, but you can't bear the idea of setting up shop in another court, can you? There is only one emperor that you can imagine yourself serving."
Changsu closed his eyes. "What kind of doctor bullies his patients like this? I'm very sick, you know. Aren't you always telling me that I need to rest more?"
"Soon enough I'll be bullying you into sword forms," Lin Chen said cheerfully.
—
He had forgotten what a festive affair the Spring Festival was at Langya Hall. Red lanterns were hung from every eave, and Lin Chen playfully argued with everyone about the correct height and distance apart for the lucky characters on the walls. Everyone, even the servants, received new clothes and admired them on one another. Plate after plate of dumplings came steaming out of the kitchens, and Fei Liu ate until he nearly made himself sick and had to lie down. Afterward, there was wine, and with wine there was always drunken singing.
Changsu had not had a head for wine for many years now, and he found that he was surprisingly reluctant to test his less delicate but still not entirely robust health.
"Have you grown sense at last?!" Lin Chen all but shrieked, though he himself was drinking only tea. His new robes looked remarkably like his old robes, but cleaner. "Oh, be still my beating heart! Should I buy a lottery ticket? Is this my good karma, returning to me at last?"
Changsu gave him a half-hearted shove. "If you keep drawing attention to it, I might have to drink some wine just to confound you."
Lin Chen shook his fan at him. "You dare!"
"See if I don't dare!" But Changsu, smiling, continued drinking only tea.
The room grew warmer as the night went on, and Changsu was amazed to feel himself sweating, something he'd thought his body had forgotten how to do. Not one year ago it seemed as if he would never be warm, always singeing his fingertips on the brazier and drinking all the hot tea he could stomach. Now, Changsu stood outside merely to watch his breath fog in the air. A breeze whipped by, and he didn't cough. His feet, inside his shoes, were warm. He stood there, drawing deep lungfuls of the cold, brittle air into his lungs and feeling it warm before expelling it again.
It was too high up for plum blossoms.
Lin Chen squawked from behind him, "Do you want to catch your death of cold?! You can still get ordinary sicknesses, you know, and die from those!"
—
Langya Hall closed until the Lantern Festival. Had anyone come seeking answers they would have been met with barred doors and a deserted plaza. But no one came seeking answers, because they knew better, and because this was, after all, a holiday.
Changsu had started with qigong forms, indoors, when he'd finally been able to get out of bed for more than an hour at a time. Breathing exercises, standing meditation. His legs had trembled at first. When they stopped trembling, he added more movements, and then a wooden practice sword. When Langya Hall closed for the Spring Festival, he decided to take up an actual sword, outside, feeling the blood running hot under his skin and his sweat drying cool atop it.
He looked up from his practice drills to see Lin Chen sitting on a bench nearby. Lin Chen applauded as soon as Changsu noticed him. "Very good, very good," Lin Chen drawled. "You'll probably never be great, but you'll be very adequate."
Changsu considered rising to the bait, but in truth he had been thinking much the same. Where others had been honing their martial arts abilities for a decade and a half, he had spent it sharpening his mind where his body would not hold. Nonetheless, he spun and thrust his sword into the air before him. "Adequate enough for what?"
"Well, it would take assassins fifteen seconds to kill you, rather than five. That can make a considerable difference."
"And why am I the target of assassins, in this hypothetical scenario?"
"If not to protect yourself from assassins, why are you training? Are you planning on going to war? Or to roam the jianghu, challenging martial arts masters for their titles? Because I can tell you right now, you will not be on the Langya List of martial arts masters anytime soon."
Changsu took himself through another ten forms before he answered. He thought about Mei Changsu's name on a different Langya List. He wondered if it would appear there again. "Nothing makes you happy, does it? You were telling me I needed to put on weight. You said you were going to bully me into doing sword forms. Well, I am gaining muscle, and I am doing sword forms. What more do you want?"
Lin Chen somehow gave the impression of fluttering a fan despite not, at this moment, carrying a fan. "I'm going to tell the kitchens to start preparing an extra bowl of meat for you. With noodles. You're going to be starving, at the rate that you're carrying on."
—
He did indeed eat two bowls of noodles at every meal, and all the meat they would give him. One day, as he was dressing, he looked down at his own legs and did not recognize them, corded with flesh and muscle as they were. He was nearly 35 and still did not know his body. He inspected his hands, which were beginning to form calluses, and made fists with them, over and over, watching the skin pull taut across the backs. Whose name did this body bear?
He also had his first night emission in…well, he couldn't recall how many years, truly, and the flush of embarrassment when he awoke and realized what had happened was also…new. Mei Changsu had been a finely honed blade, and tools did not feel shame. But here, now, he slunk to the servants and muttered after new bedding and new undergarments, and was grateful when they didn't so much as snigger.
He couldn't hope to expect that from Lin Chen, however. Lin Chen choked out an exaggerated sob, clapped his friend on the shoulder with a heavy hand, and declared, "My boy, he has become a man! Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"
"No," he said through his teeth. "I woke up and it had happened. Could you not do this? I'm telling you as my doctor, you know."
"Yes, and I am responding as your doctor and also your friend." Lin Chen took up his patient's wrist, though he still had the air of a puffed rooster about him. "You are gaining weight. Your appetite is good. This was surely next, or did you not anticipate that?" His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. "Something Mei Changsu did not anticipate! About his own self, even. However will he live it down?"
"I despise you," Changsu muttered.
Lin Chen dropped Changsu's arm and patted him on the face. "Don't masturbate too much. You need as much of your vitality as you can, or you'll embarrass yourself when you meet your Princess again. Or your Prince. Whichever it is. Or is it both of them?"
"I'm leaving now," Changsu announced.
—
Changsu began going on walks.
Longer and longer each day, the snow crunching under his feet, sweating under his robes and panting on the way back. The days were getting longer, and each day Changsu went a little bit farther down the mountain path before turning around and heading back up. He waited for someone to say something, ask something, but no one did. Even on a day when he was a little bit late back for dinner, Fei Liu only brought him his two bowls of noodles with extra meat that Auntie Ji had set aside for him and said, "Eat dinner!"
One day, Changsu packed a travel bag and headed down the mountain. No one stopped him. He walked until he thought he'd better make camp before he was too tired to make camp. Then he pitched his tent, built his fire, and cooked his dinner of dried noodles with pickled vegetables and dried pork floss. He made tea and drank it while the darkness settled around him. The moon was waxing, and the stars overhead seemed immense and overwhelming. He crawled into his tent, wrapped himself in his fox fur travel cloak, and slept a profound and dreamless sleep.
It had been a long time since he had slept on the ground. Not since he'd been in the Chiyan Army, most likely; after that he had been Mei Changsu, and Mei Changsu's delicate health had necessitated staying in inns. He expected to wake feeling bad, and in truth he did feel…well, he did not feel his best. It took some effort to get up off the ground, and he could feel where a rock had dug into his back all night.
But he was upright. A little sore, a little tired, but not unto death. He wasn't coughing.
He made more tea and drank it, and made rice for breakfast to eat with the rest of his pickles and pork floss. He ate a handful of dried fruit and nuts while waiting for the water to boil and listened to the birds. He watched his breath fog in the air as he said out loud, "I am called Lin Shu." He thought his voice sounded strange. Then he packed his things back up and walked back up the mountain.
He arrived back at Langya Hall a little after lunch, and went back to his quarters without anyone stopping him or querying where he'd been. It seemed a little suspicious. And so, after Lin Shu put away his things and had had a chance to bathe and change, he went and found Lin Chen in his office, poring over correspondence that was probably entirely meaningless.
"Your erstwhile patient has returned," Lin Shu announced.
"Oh, were you gone?" Lin Chen said without looking up.
"Do you mean for me to believe that you don't keep close tabs on your walking medical miracle, the greatest achievement of your medical life and career, not to mention dear friend?"
"It sounds as if you've answered your own question."
Lin Shu folded himself into a seat across from his friend. "I'm sure you had people watching me. They would have rescued me if anything truly dire had happened. It was why I felt comfortable trying it in the first place."
"It? What was this 'it' that you tried? Did you do something foolish? Why would you do something that you knew your doctor and friend would disagree with?" Lin Chen continued writing.
Lin Shu waited. Eventually, Lin Chen looked up, and Lin Shu took a deep breath.
"Thank you for your support," he said. "For keeping your promises, even though I have not always kept mine."
Lin Chen made a face. "Gross. Disgusting. How dare you. Who are you? I don't know what you're talking about." He flapped a hand at Lin Shu. "Go away. Get out of here."
Lin Shu smiled and went away.
—
If xiao-Shu had survived longer in the world, he most likely would have become a master of the six arts. Already he was proficient in archery and charioteering, his calligraphy was adequate, he excelled at mathematics as it pertained to the movement of troops on the battlefield, and he did not embarrass himself on the xiao. Given enough time, he would have mastered the rites as well. They had all assumed that xiao-Shu had plenty of time.
Then he had died.
Mei Changsu's hands had not been strong enough to draw a bow or grip the reins. His grip on the brush had been weak, and his characters had lacked strength and precision. He had not been able to control his breath for the xiao and lacked the fine motor control for it or any other musical instrument. But Mei Changsu had had no concern for being a perfect gentleman; he'd had other goals in mind.
The first time he'd set foot in the library of Langya Hall, he'd still been covered in white fur and relearning how to shuffle along on two legs rather than four. He'd been so overcome by the cavernous halls, the shelves lined with books and scrolls, that he'd had to sit down. It had seemed to him as if all of human knowledge was contained in these shelves and scrolls, or close enough to it as made no difference. He couldn't speak, but he could still read, and he could still turn pages. After Lin Chen had found him sitting on the floor with a pile of books beside him, he'd begun bringing books to Changsu's quarters: travelogues and history books and books on rites; things that, in a previous life, he would have dismissed as "boring" but now devoured, his mind going where his body could not.
Which was why Lin Chen's reaction to finding Lin Shu in the library was surprise: "When Fei Liu said you were in the library, I thought he must be purposely trying to throw me off the scent. What are you doing in this stuffy old place? Do I need to bully you into sword forms?"
Lin Shu turned the page of the book he was reading. "I did my morning drills and my afternoon drills. In the rain, even. Which you would know, if you actually talked to Fei Liu instead of just bullying him."
Lin Chen tucked his hands into his sleeves and peered over Lin Shu's shoulder. "On the Origins of the Supernatural? I didn't take you for having an interest in demons and monsters. Thinking of becoming a Daoist priest and exorcizing spirits? That would be quite a swerve."
Lin Shu shut the book with his finger in it to mark the place. "Did you have something important to say, or did you merely want to pester me?"
"Ah," Lin Chen said. "I thought you would like to know that the Emperor just died."
—
Mourning spread across the land.
Lin Shu fasted, and wore white, and burned joss paper. Langya Hall buzzed on around him; if anything, seekers came in greater numbers than before. Perhaps they thought Great Liang was vulnerable now. Lin Shu knew that they were wrong.
"You're surprised," Lin Chen observed.
"I thought he would last longer than this," Lin Shu murmured. "He was not that old."
"A weak heart," Lin Chen said, and Lin Shu knew he meant weaker in more ways than one. "Besides, what did he have to hang onto life for?"
"Power."
"You and I know he had no more power."
They sat on the back porch for a while, gazing out over the mountainside. The sky was so blue that it almost hurt to look at. Lin Shu took deep lungfuls of clean, moist air into his lungs. Soon, the air would be filled with the drone of cicadas, and peaches would come into season. Summer had been a reprieve for Mei Changsu; his joints hurt a little less then, and while he still had to be careful outdoors he didn't have to have quite so many blankets indoors. Now, it was just another season in the cycle. Lin Shu looked forward to it.
"You hung on," Lin Chen said. He sounded casual, and he looked upward as if searching for hawks. "You have. Hung on."
Lin Shu fought the urge to fidget. "Force of habit," he said at last.
Lin Chen snorted. "I will shove you off this mountain."
"You wouldn't dare. I'm your pride and joy, your greatest achievement as a physician."
"My greatest pain in the ass," Lin Chen muttered, without any real rancor.
Lin Shu smiled.
"Well?" said Lin Chen. "What will you do?"
Lin Shu found himself fidgeting with his sleeve, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. He stopped, then deliberately let himself start again. "You expect me to leave."
"Of course I do. Why would you stay?"
"The food is good," Lin Shu suggested. "The view is incomparable. The library alone–"
Lin Chen snorted. "Don't patronize me. There's nothing standing in the way of your return to Great Liang now. So: are you going to?"
Silence. Lin Shu focused on the texture of his sleeve between his fingertips.
Lin Chen heaved a sigh like Lin Shu had purposely set out to disappoint him, personally. "What is it you want, Changsu?"
Lin Shu squinted out over the valley. Lin Chen had asked this question before, he realized; had asked it several times, in several different ways.
"I think," Lin Shu said slowly, "I would like to live without lying."
—
The leaves turned, and Langya Hall received a pigeon with information that Emperor Jing of Great Liang was en route.
Lin Shu thought that he was probably not supposed to know; at least, Lin Chen shared nothing of this with him. But he knew, because he still had his ways of gathering information within Langya Hall, and in all likelihood Lin Chen knew that he knew.
He could wait, but he thought it was worth enduring Lin Chen to find out a little more information: "When will he arrive?"
"Hmm? Who?" Lin Chen fluttered his fan and squinted at his notes.
Lin Shu scowled at him. "You know who."
"It doesn't hurt to be more specific." Lin Chen snapped his fan shut. "Very soon, I imagine. He is traveling with a very small retinue. Only seven retainers, all of them on horseback."
For speed, then. Lin Shu tucked his hands into his sleeves and sternly told his gut not to curl. "Tomorrow?"
"Likely. Or the day after. He must have a very pressing question."
Lin Shu thought the same, and it distressed him that he hadn't even a guess as to what that question was. Or rather, he had too many guesses, all of which were only faintly possible. He had left Jingyan and Great Liang in the best possible position: the borders under control; all obstacles in the palace removed; a clever Empress Consort by his side…was there something he had overlooked?
He dared not–no. He would not even allow the thought to finish crossing his mind.
The next day, Lin Shu made sure to ensconce himself in the library, far from any windows and doors where he might be seen. He stared down at a book about tariffs and waterways and did not take in a single word. Eventually, Fei Liu came to him and declared, "Water Buffalo."
"How does he look?" Lin Shu said in a low voice.
Fei Liu shrugged. "Like Water Buffalo."
Lin Shu supposed that was a fair answer.
Lin Chen came to him two hours later with a slip of paper and a smug expression. "Would you like to see his question?" When Lin Shu only glared in response, Lin Chen sat and presented him with a tiny scroll of paper that read only:
DOES MEI CHANGSU LIVE?
Lin Shu's breath caught, and he was shocked to feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes.
"What should we charge for the answer?" Lin Chen said gleefully.
"I shouldn't," Lin Shu said raggedly.
"Wow. Did I hear right? Did you just say that you shouldn't? How many times have I said that you shouldn't, and you shoulded ahead anyway? Who are you?"
Lin Shu looked down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap, and swallowed. "I–can't. I can't."
Lin Chen did not answer right away. Lin Shu looked up, expecting to see Lin Chen rolling his eyes. But his friend looked serious, and Lin Shu had to look away again. "We could tell him that Mei Changsu is dead," Lin Chen offered. "It would not be a falsehood. Are you still Mei Changsu? Did Mei Changsu ever really exist?"
Lin Shu swallowed. He supposed, in some way, he would always be Mei Changsu now, just as when he'd been Mei Changsu he had also still been Lin Shu.
"You said," Lin Chen murmured, "that you wished to live without lying."
The silence stretched out. Lin Chen waited, still as a tomb. At last, Lin Shu cleared his throat. "Tell him," he had to clear his throat again, "Tell him that the price for the answer is a pearl the size of an egg."
—END—