Chapter Text
“Is the water boiling yet?” Wuxi calls out to Zishu who sits by the fire of their makeshift campsite.
“Not quite.” is the response he hears, carried to him on the chill evening breeze.
Wuxi wonders what he has done in his previous life to find himself in this particular set of circumstances. He reckons he must have done something terrible, or at least drastic, world-altering indeed, to have earned the privilege of guiding Beiyuan’s closest friend to the most dangerous part of the Nanjiang forest in search of a mystical “flower.”
Wuxi likes Zishu. He does. He is eternally grateful for the kindness Zishu has in his heart for Beiyuan. “Grateful?” Yes. He has to admit he is grateful. He is grateful that Beiyuan has a friend. He is grateful that Zishu seems to delight Beiyuan in a way that he doesn’t quite always understand. Is he grateful? Of course he is. He can’t begrudge Zishu for delighting Beiyuan. He can’t begrudge Beiyuan for being delighted.
For all his threats of setting his snakes on anyone Beiyuan takes an interest in, Wuxi thinks even his most well-trained, most potent snakes would have trouble taking Zishu or his new friend, his one, Wen Kexing, down. It’s not that he doesn’t think highly of his own snakes, raised by his own hand, fed with his own magic, it’s more that he would not particularly enjoy their judgemental air if he really set them on such a foolish mission.
He fears that they’d all up and quit, or go on strike, demanding a transfer of leadership, citing impaired judgment due to emotional compromise. They’d be right and therefore granted freedom from him by the high council, and then where would he be? Snakeless, and Beiyuan no less delighted and fascinated by Zishu and his dear one, Wen Kexing.
Wuxi knows perhaps, with Beiyuan by his side, he isn’t the most qualified to judge the merits of one’s life partner. Sometimes you find yourself tied, bound, tripping over red strings, vision obscured by fine silk, hands moving of their own accord, heart no longer your own, without overt effort.
He wonders what bewitching moment transpired between them: Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing. He wonders if Beiyuan has already seen - has already figured it out. Or perhaps Zishu would have already volunteered the information. He supposes, with Beiyuan, showing up was enough of an offer - standing in front of him and allowing him to gaze at you and inquire after your health was enough permission for him to already know.
He doesn’t envy Beiyuan this ability, this interest. There were certain things he’d rather not know. For one: why Beiyuan insisted on Wuxi addressing Wen Kexing as “Kexing ge.”
Wuxi really did not understand the humor in such a title. How is it that much different from “Wen xiong?”
Wuxi knows he’s the youngest among them and Da Qing has a whole weird obsession with age hierarchy and respecting one’s elders, but if Beiyuan doesn’t have to abide by such rules, then why should he, as Beiyuan’s other half?
It’s because he’s nobility; he was the Prince of Nanning before; the sole heir of Da Qing’s – Wuxi cuts his own thoughts off from thinking of that name, the name that no longer exists in his world.
If he was honest, things would be easier if that name really ceased existing. The truth was its absence wasn’t quite as inconspicuous as Wuxi really liked.
He knows maybe they should talk a bit more about this nameless thing, this nameless entity, this nameless man that still draws Wuxi into moments of panic and doubt. He knows maybe he is avoiding things in the guise of waiting for the right time.
But he’s not wrong about the timing. Beiyuan was always a distraction - he had almost forgotten Zishu was still waiting on him. He needs to focus on the present. He does not enjoy the thought of Beiyuan (and Wen xiong)’s wrath if he were to bring Zishu back with a single strand of hair astray. No time to think of ghosts for the present.
They were on a mission and there was no room for error.