Work Text:
Guo Changcheng had just cleaned up his breakfast dishes in the kitchen area at the back of 4 Bright Avenue and set them to dry next to the large bin full of beer bottles from last night's party welcoming Professor Shen as a consultant -- about half to two-thirds of them bottles Zhu Hong-jie had thrown back after grumbling something like, "Who is this Shen Wei to tell Zhao Yunlan let's go home..."
He'd never seen anyone who could drink as much as she could! Although personally he thought it was very kind of the Chief to give the professor a ride back to the university, since it was so late and it would probably get cold waiting at the bus stop. But, dishes done, Changcheng was now trying to decide if Chu-ge would be more likely to eat congee or vegetable buns if he set them on his coworker's desk. And he probably would have gone on debating for another five minutes if the sound of the outer door opening hadn't pulled him totally out of his thoughts.
It was about ten minutes until the day technically started; everyone who lived here or ate here had already been in the building for over half an hour. That meant -- in addition to Wang Zheng and Sang Zan -- himself, Zhu Hong, Da Qing, and Lin Jing. And Lao-Li, who was always here early to make breakfast.
Chu-ge came in fifteen minutes before the day started, every day, because he had a morning health and fitness routine. Changcheng had tried to shadow it once, but around two minutes into the run, Chu-ge had squinted at him, taken his pulse, sniffed his neck, and then told him to go home, shower, and get to the office to "do some paperwork or something, you can start with a kilometer on the treadmill at lunch." Also the single poached egg that Chu-ge had swallowed more than eaten really didn't seem like enough to be a good breakfast, which was probably why he was so cranky most mornings.
(Hence the congee. Or vegetable buns.)
But since everybody else was here, that meant the only person left to arrive was the Chief. So why did it sound like there were two sets of footsteps? Didn't Professor Shen say he had classes today?
Deciding quickly, Changcheng put two vegetable buns on a plate and added a napkin, then poked his head out of the kitchen to see the Chief walking in with...
Oh well, it was Professor Shen after all!
They were walking shoulder to shoulder, and Changcheng couldn't see clearly but he thought the Chief's hand might have been on Professor Shen's hip, under the suit jacket, while he was saying almost too soft to hear because his face was really close to the professor's ear, "Be careful when you're heading to campus, Shen Wei, ah? Remember what Minister Gao said about that shutterbug."
Of course, Chief Zhao was a pretty hands-on guy. Changcheng still remembered his first day, getting pulled in with an arm around the shoulder and thrown right at Zhu Hong-jie. And he hadn't even known the Chief yet! Since he and Professor Shen were such good friends, this sort of thing was probably normal for him.
Professor Shen seemed comfortable enough. Even though he took Chief Zhao's hand off his hip with a little shove, he still reached up to brush his fingers through the Chief's hair, clicking his tongue. "I'm always careful, Zhao Yunlan. Oh... You got a leaf in your hair, driving with the window open. Here, let me."
Chu-ge only narrowed his eyes a little while he stared, but Zhu Hong-jie swiveled her chair all the way around to look at them with her chin resting on her fist. And she was kind of making her scary eyes?
"Shen Wei, ah..." said the Chief with a hint of a smile Changcheng thought was somehow different from his usual smiles as he tried to hold onto the professor's hand. The professor managed to slip out of his grasp, but his eyes flickered back up to meet the Chief's with a smile of his own that seemed to match. "What would I do without you?"
"Pay too much for your laundry service, lose all of Da Qing's toy mice, and die on the street of gastritis. Now, you have a department to run, I think, and I have some papers to review and lecture notes to work on before I go to campus. I'll be in the library if you need me."
Before the professor could turn all the way towards the stairs, Chief Zhao had hooked a hand around his elbow, making the same pleading pout around his lollipop that Changcheng had seen him use to ask for help at crime scenes. "Come on, Shen Wei! When don't I need you?"
He tried to pull Professor Shen toward his office, but he must have been playing around. The professor barely budged a millimeter, and most of that was the pained face he made after Zhao Yunlan stumbled backward a little when the professor twisted his arm out of his grip and the level of pouting increased.
"For work, Zhao Yunlan. I'll be upstairs."
The chief made a big show of slumping against the couch by the meeting table, but when he looked up to watch Professor Shen stepping rapid-fire up the stairs to the second floor, he still had a glowing smile on his face. And no concern at all for Chu-ge and Hong-jie's eyes following him all the way to his office. He was just humming a cheerful song Changcheng couldn't recognize -- if it had ever been on a streaming rec list, it wasn't on a service he listened to, or at least Chief Zhao didn't sing it properly enough for him to pick out the melody -- and shaking his hips and shoulders like he was dancing while he walked.
Lao-Li hummed softly behind Changcheng. "Do you think I should bake Chief Zhao and Professor Shen a cake?"
Thanks to remembering that he didn't want to spill the vegetable buns he was carrying, Changcheng managed not to jump, although he did turn around to blink at the old custodian. "Umm... a cake? Why?"
They looked at each other blankly for a moment, then Lao-Li smiled and patted Changcheng's shoulder. "Someone will explain when you're older." The elderly gentleman retreated back into the kitchen just as Da Qing appeared from the hallway around the back of the lounge. "I know Chief Zhao will eat most things, but I wonder what kind of cakes Professor Shen likes?"
"I think...he said he doesn't like sweets?" said Changcheng, trying to remember anything about it from the cases they'd worked on. He'd never seen the professor eating a dessert. Or much of anything, really.
"Don't do it," said Da Qing, shaking his head and picking at a plate of barely cool fried fish. "Professor Shen has a vibe. He doesn't want other people cooking for Lao-Zhao, he wants to do it himself."
That seemed to make sense to Lao-Li, or at least was enough explanation that he was nodding instead of asking questions, but Changcheng furrowed his brow in confusion, stammering at the deputy, "B-but...what does that... Why wouldn't h-he...?"
The Cat Yashou squinted at him for a second. "Let me ask you something," said Da Qing. "Why would you give someone food?"
Changcheng hoped this wasn't a trick question. "For them...to eat?" he guessed.
"Exactly," said Da Qing, and took the plate of fish off toward the back hallway like that had settled everything. "Thanks for the fish, Lao-Li!"
"Anytime, Da Qing."
If anything, Changcheng felt more confused than he had two minutes ago. Oh well! Not understanding things at first wasn't really anything new for him here. The SID was a fairly unusual workplace, after all. Before he'd started working here, he hadn't known anybody who could turn into a cat or a snake, or fight with puppets using dark energy, and out of everybody, Chief Zhao was probably the most mysterious in the end.
Well, Chief Zhao, or the legendary Black-Cloaked Envoy. He was fairly mysterious, as well as a hero like Chief Zhao, but they only saw him a few times per month, and Changcheng had usually passed out or was hiding when he was around. Or had been told to go somewhere else because it wasn't safe. He definitely didn't want to speak out of turn around the Envoy again. Someone who had survived ten thousand years of war and untold dangers just to free his people then from injustice, and now to protect them from persecution on the surface, deserved more respect than that! And was also very intimidating to know in person.
He walked quietly across the workspace to where Chu-ge and Hong-jie were sitting at their desks. Wang Zheng was probably still upstairs, since her desk was empty. Hong-jie was staring at the library on the second floor with the red starting to ring her eyes looking a little scary, although she turned back to the work on her desk like nothing was happening as soon as she noticed Changcheng approaching. Chu-ge, on the other hand, was staring as if frozen at the empty air in front of the entryway. The only way Changcheng was sure he was alive was that he watched long enough to see Chu-ge blink, which took awhile.
Slowly, Changcheng slid the plate he'd brought over with the two vegetable buns onto an empty space near Chu-ge's hand. That got the other man to look down at the plate with a suspicious frown, then up to Changcheng's face.
Changcheng waved with a hopeful smile.
Chu-ge never made much of an expression, but Changcheng had been around him enough to see the signs of a tiny sigh. "This isn't necessary."
"I know," he answered brightly and walked toward where he usually worked. Halfway there, he stopped, looking from the heartwarming sight of Chu-ge taking large bites of vegetable bun to the more forbidding arch of Hong-jie's back, then to the closed door of the office where he could still hear Chief Zhao singing an unidentifiable song. Scratching his neck, he asked, "Did...did s-something about the Chief...seem different...somehow...to you guys?"
The short scoff that boomed out of Chu-ge's throat sounded like there actually was something, but he was more likely to get another lesson on observational skills than an explanation.
Hong-jie saying in a voice like a knife edge, "He combed his hair," didn't actually help much more.
"Doesn't he always comb his hair?"
Changcheng found himself caught between a considering squint from Chu-ge -- the kind Chu-ge made when he'd missed something really important and obvious, and made it really clear that he didn't know anything about being a special agent -- and a red-rimmed glare from Hong-jie as she swiveled her chair around that was probably cold enough to cause frostbite. Maybe he shouldn't have asked?
Leaning back on her desk, perched on her elbows in a way that made Changcheng imagine the pose of a cobra rearing back to strike, Zhu Hong-jie set her bright red lips in a hard frown. "Lao-Zhao usually shoves all his hair forward, over his forehead. That way, if his motorcycle helmet flattens it, his hair still looks...intentional. He likes to look sexy, not like he has helmet hair. But after he and Shen Wei left together last night and came back in together today, his hair is parted to the sides, off his forehead," said Hong-jie, eyes and lips narrowing. "With a comb. And he's wearing it tousled. His hair has body. A helmet would make that hair look like shit."
"O-oh..." murmured Changcheng, turning to his desk and trying to ignore the weird atmosphere around...all of that. Mostly to himself, he wondered, "Maybe his motorcycle is in the shop?"
A pile of paperwork slammed against Hong-jie's desk louder than Changcheng had thought was possible, and he jumped back to his feet from halfway-sitting. Even Chu-ge looked up, slowing the rate at which he was chewing the vegetable buns on his plate. Hong-jie's chair was empty, spinning until it hit the edge of her desk, and their resident Snake Yashou was already halfway to the front door with her high heels clicking on the floor.
"I am too sober..." she growled before slamming the door on her way out...to a bar? Or probably bars weren't open yet, so maybe a liquor store or a grocery store for more beer? To buy alcohol, anyway, which Changcheng was pretty sure wasn't allowed during the workday, but when he glanced at Chu-ge, he got a firm headshake telling him not to interfere.
And, well, Chu-ge wouldn't tell him to do the wrong thing.
"Why is Hong-jie going day-drinking?" asked a voice from behind the desks, tuned just loud enough to be heard and just quiet enough not to carry over to Chief Zhao's office. Changcheng looked up to see Lin Jing-ge with an excited grin, still doing something to the dark energy gun he must have been working on in the lab when the Chief and Professor Shen had come in.
Of course, talking about people was bad, but Changcheng didn't know anything that was going on beyond things Lin Jing-ge would see himself as soon as the Chief came out of his office. So, biting at his lip, he said, "Umm... I can't really say. It has something to do with Chief Zhao parting his hair, I think? So he can't drive his motorcycle?"
Lin Jing-ge froze, setting the dark energy gun down on the meeting table. "He what?" Like he had eyes on the back of his head, their scientist speedwalked backwards around all the furniture to take a look through the windows on Chief Zhao's office. Once he got a glimpse, Changcheng barely heard him mutter, "Holy shit, he did change his hair! That's definitive. Is there anybody still in the betting pool, or did everybody already lose?" Walking back more slowly, he kept murmuring, "It took way longer--"
Chu-ge signaled Lin Jing-ge to stop talking, then made some other motion with his hands Changcheng didn't recognize and pointed to the library on the second floor.
Covering his mouth, Lin Jing-ge leaned over their desks to whisper much more quietly, "He brought Professor Shen here with him?"
"I don't run his life," answered Chu-ge.
At the same time, Changcheng quietly reminded him, "He is our consultant now. Won't he be stopping by often?" Although it did seem odd that Chief Zhao would fetch Professor Shen from the university from the first place if he just had to go right back.
As Lin Jing-ge ducked very close to his face, Changcheng fought the urge to jump away. "This is important data. I need accurate information, for scientific inquiry." Waving off Chu-ge's scoff, their scientist asked in a hushed but clear voice, "On a scale of zero to five, zero being no physical contact and five being intimate physical contact, how touchy were they when they walked in?"
Frowning, he considered the question and the scene, and eventually answered, "Umm... It's Chief Zhao," to Lin Jing-ge's apparent frustration. "Why would you have a betting pool about Chief Zhao's hair?" Changcheng asked. He didn't really mind that no one had asked him to place a bet in it, although he did kind of wonder if the SID had a group chat he wasn't in where they talked about those sorts of things. Maybe he'd ask Da Qing later. The deputy knew the most about social media out of everyone except Lin Jing-ge, who would probably set a weird screen name for him and put locks on his account as a "test" for him to figure out.
The team scientist leaned back on the couch by the meeting table, speaking a little louder, but not enough that his voice would carry. "Not betting about his hair. Betting about why he changed his hair. I mean, look at him! He's singing. It's pretty clear..." Lin Jing-ge pointed between the library and the Chief's office. "You know."
Changcheng definitely did not know. As Chu-ge shoved the last bite of vegetable bun in his mouth and stood with a hasty swallow, Changcheng asked the scientist, "You...had a bet that Professor Shen would change Chief Zhao's hair?"
"Not exactly?" As Lin Jing-ge leaned thoughtfully on the couch, he gestured to Changcheng in a way that reminded him of TAs in college starting a lesson. "Okay, so. You know how when you're giving a blowjob, some guys like to pull your hair?"
Around the word "blowjob," Changcheng's eyes flew wide open, and he started shaking his head, no. Among the things he knew, none of them were about giving blowjobs. He was pretty sure that was a sex thing he had heard some of the guys in gym class talking about? He hadn't asked what it meant. How could he?! He didn't even talk to those guys unless he happened to be reading an answer aloud in a class they were all in, that didn't count at all!
By the time Lin Jing-ge got to the word "guys," Chu-ge was around the desks and Changcheng felt the familiar tug of the senior officer yanking him by the back of the collar, so he barely had time to wonder what the point of pulling someone's hair while you blew on them would be. He followed at a quick clip past the meeting table while Chu-ge grunted, "This conversation is over," at Lin Jing-ge, and managed to get his feet onto the stairs up to the library without tripping.
"What did I say?!" Lin Jing-ge wondered to himself downstairs.
"I could tell you," Da Qing's voice echoed from somewhere indeterminate, "but fixing your social flaws isn't in my job description, and you haven't fed me today."
Once they reached the second floor, Chu-ge took his hand off Changcheng's neck and prodded him to take a few steps toward the surprised faces of Professor Shen, Wang Zheng, and Sang Zan. When Changcheng looked back at Chu-ge, the man said, "Anything it's appropriate for you to know, Professor Shen will be able to tell you," and left.
Left. While Changcheng was just standing there, with everybody watching him expectantly, like he knew what to say now! At least Professor Shen was just about the kindest person in the universe and pointed to a nearby chair with a smile while Wang Zheng and Sang Zan made themselves scarce. If this were anybody but Professor Shen, he would have been much more intimidated!
"Now, Officer Xiao-Guo," asked the professor in a kind, melodious voice that seemed designed to put people at ease. "It sounded like you had a question?"
Changcheng twisted the hem of his shirt into a tight spiral while he bit his lip. "Umm. I really don't know why Chu-ge brought me here... I'm sorry to bother you."
Professor Shen smiled with a perfect ease that was almost infectious enough for Changcheng to take a proper breath. "I'm here for a few minutes," he said, "so if I can help, take your time. Were you discussing something downstairs?"
He nodded, recalling the last several confusing moments, and trying to decide how best to sum them up. "I guess I wasn't sure why everyone thought it was important that Chief Zhao changed his hair? And then Lin Jing-ge said..." After briefly considering what Lin Jing-ge had said, Changcheng shook his head. It couldn't be appropriate to say sex words in front of Professor Shen. "That's not important. Is Chief Zhao's motorcycle in the repair shop? Do you know?"
With wide eyes, Professor Shen pushed his glasses up on his nose, then clasped his hands on the table. "His...motorcycle? No. Zhao Yunlan actually does the maintenance on his motorcycle himself. He doesn't take it to a repair shop. And I believe when he did a tune-up this weekend, it was working perfectly. Can you say more about the connection between Zhao Yunlan's hair and the motorcycle? I'm afraid I don't follow."
If he twisted his shirt any more, the wrinkles would never come out. Changcheng was trying to look professional at work, so he took a deep breath and set his hands flat on the table. He could have a conversation like a normal person! He could! "It's... Well, Zhu Hong-jie said, his new hair...doesn't work with a helmet. I don't really understand why. I don't ride motorcycles. But she seemed to know."
"Ah." Professor Shen nodded. "I see. Well, I can't comment on a helmet with his current hairstyle. Since he and I came in together, naturally Zhao Yunlan drove his car instead of his motorcycle."
Nodding, Changcheng answered, "Of course. It was really kind of him to drive you all the way from the university. The walk from the nearest bus stop is a little confusing the first time."
"Of course," said Professor Shen, smiling again, so his eyes practically crinkled shut. "It was so thoughtful."
"Although I'm surprised you decided to come in this morning, since you have classes around noon, right? Don't you live in the Faculty Dorms?" Changcheng thought about the bus route from Dragon City University to Bright Avenue, and the loop back. Neither one was very short as a bus ride even if the direct drive wasn't bad, and that meant sitting in a lot of unnecessary traffic. "I-is Chief Zhao trying to monopolize your time again, Professor?"
After a moment to think, and what seemed like a shadow of honest concern passing over the professor's face, Professor Shen took on a reassuring tone to say, "Please don't worry about that. I moved off campus recently, that's all. This was actually much more convenient."
"O-okay."
He couldn't say why anyone would move away from campus-provided housing within walking distance of their classrooms and the university library, but if the professor said it was more convenient, then he would know. And if Chief Zhao wasn't making trouble for Professor Shen like when he'd gotten alcohol poisoning on the trip to the mountains, then it was probably fine. That had turned out to be a misunderstanding apparently, too, because the Chief hadn't pressured the professor at all. Chief Zhao was intense sometimes, but he really was a good person. Changcheng was sure of that, deep down.
"Was that what you wanted to know, Officer Xiao-Guo?"
He slowly shook his head. "I guess I really don't understand why everyone is making a fuss about Chief Zhao's hair. Don't people just change their hair sometimes?"
To be honest, he had expected the professor to tell him that it wasn't actually a big deal, and everyone was making something out of nothing. Changcheng had been less prepared to see Professor Shen put on a thoughtful frown as if contemplating the question of hairstyles seriously. Was there really some secret hair code that Changcheng had never learned? How was he supposed to find these things out?!
Eventually, Professor Shen spoke. "It's true that sometimes people do make changes to their appearance simply because they had a whim or saw a new trend they wanted to try. Change is an inevitable part of human development. We are not precisely like our genetic structure, of course, but there is something to say for the similarity between the constant duplication of cells leading to genetic mutations where beneficial changes survive, and the constant recreation of the human self over the passage of time. We may notice a shift in our everyday existence that makes our life better or brings us joy, and we choose to adapt to that change instead of undoing it. You might say, in that sense, there are some decisions to change a hairstyle or a way of dressing that people have historically treated like evolutionary symbols of entering a new stage of life, no different from a caterpillar's body remaking itself into a butterfly."
Changcheng's eyes gradually widened, and he felt them growing glassy as he wished he'd been holding his notepad when Chu-ge had dragged him upstairs. He didn't have a single thing with him to take notes! There was no way he'd be able to remember all of the words the professor was using! He'd gotten his degree in Civics!
"Chief Zhao is a butterfly?" he asked weakly.
"Not literally, of course," said Professor Shen, as if just remembering that Guo Changcheng had recently learned that some people were cats, snakes, birds, flowers, and who knew what else. "That was a metaphor. I'm referring to symbolic change, like showing that you've entered a new stage of your life or made a commitment by visibly altering something about yourself in a way you wouldn't have done before, or wouldn't have been able to do before. Zhu Hong says that this hairstyle isn't compatible with a motorcycle helmet. Perhaps Zhao Yunlan is making a statement that something has changed in his life that means he won't be riding his motorcycle as often, or something else is more important now than how his helmet affects his hair. He could keep his hair the same, but this change in his life has enough meaning that it either brings him satisfaction personally to change his hair to accommodate it, or he wants to offer a visual sign of commitment. Have you known some people to do that?"
Thinking of the hairstyle his second uncle hadn't changed for as long as Guo Changcheng had been alive, his aunt trimming it with clippers every weekend and going to the salon every month to keep her own unchanging bob in shape, Changcheng shook his head. His aunt cut his hair, too, in a style he knew only as "his haircut," which there had never been a reason to change since he'd been in preschool. No one he knew had ever done anything of the kind. Sure, people at school had changed their hairstyles sometimes, but he didn't really know any of the people at school that well. Not well enough to ask them why they'd cut their hair, at least.
With a hint of a sigh hidden behind a smile, Professor Shen said, "Okay. How about this as an example? In some pre-modern eras, it was traditional for unmarried women to wear their hair down, and the transition after the wedding ceremony to wearing their hair styled up was a symbolic way of showing the change in their life -- not unlike the traditional crowning ceremony for the male coming of age."
"Chief Zhao got married?!" Changcheng exclaimed. "And everyone could tell from his hair?! I didn't even think he was seeing anybody..." he murmured.
"...ah, well--"
The events of the morning started running through Changcheng's brain, slotting into place. "Is that why Lao-Li wanted to bake a cake?"
"I beg your pardon?" asked Professor Shen, blinking and holding a polite smile on his face that looked a little less natural than usual.
Changcheng squinted at the table as he recalled. "Oh, but he said it was a cake for Chief Zhao and..." Once the words filtered in, he slowly looked up at the professor again, noticing the nervous edge to the way the older man was sitting. "And you. Oh, don't worry, Professor Shen, Da Qing told him not to do it!" Seeing the professor relax slightly into his chair, Changcheng asked softly, "So you and Chief Zhao got married? I'm sorr-- Or, congratulations? I had no idea..."
The professor glanced to the side, obviously uncomfortable with having a conversation that personal. Changcheng was ready to apologize, except he didn't want to interrupt. "We didn't...get married, no. That was an analogy. About transition and commitment. Oh my goodness..." Pulling one lacquered wooden box and one nicely folded oil-paper packet out of his briefcase, Professor Shen flashed him a bright smile. "I hope you'll forgive me. I want to make sure I put Zhao Yunlan's lunch in the kitchen before I leave, and I brought some sardines for Da Qing as well. If you need to talk later..."
"Of course!" Shooting out of his seat like a rocket, he rubbed his neck and apologized as the professor got ready to leave. "I-I'm sorry I'm not...very good with...analogies, and social...things. I really don't get it."
With a friendly smile, the professor suggested, "Maybe you can ask Sang Zan if there's a book in the library on understanding body language. It's an important skill for a police officer, after all."
Changcheng nodded, because probably that was why everyone knew what was going on. The professor was right. They were all trained police officers, he thought as Professor Shen disappeared down the stairs, and he was so new at this. He wished someone could just tell him what was going on. Was this another thing where Chief Zhao had told everyone to make sure he figured it out himself as a training exercise? Taking a deep breath, he looked around for the librarian, and not seeing him, started to call out. "Sang--"
"F-for...you."
The voice came from behind him, and Changcheng's heart nearly thundered out of his chest before he remembered that neither Wang Zheng nor Sang Zan made audible footsteps. Turning around, he accepted an armful of books from the librarian whose spines covered a range of topics. The one on top appeared to be a Chinese translation of a former United States FBI agent's guide to reading body language in witnesses and suspects during questioning. There was at least one traditional manual entitled "Bodily Feng Shui," and a "dictionary" for poses and habits. Changcheng decided to start with the volume entitled "Emotional Intelligence," since that felt more like what he was missing in most situations. But when he lifted that book off the stack, he saw the title of the book underneath was, "All About Love." There had to be a mistake here. Had Sang Zan grabbed the wrong book? He was usually so good about finding the right ones, it was uncanny, since Wang Zheng was still teaching him Mandarin.
"Umm..." Changcheng said, looking up at the circulation desk where Sang Zan was practicing his writing. The librarian smiled back, and Changcheng just didn't have the heart to ask if the book about love was a mistake. Sang Zan worked so hard! How could he ask something that mean? Instead Changcheng lifted the book he was about to read and said, "Thank you."
"It's good!" Sang Zan answered. "We...learn!"
That was right. He'd learn, Changcheng decided, taking his seat again and starting to read.
~//~
On his meandering walk towards the library stairs, Zhao Yunlan heard voices. Real voices, not imaginary ones, coming from members of his team, who were distinctly unchill. Therefore, as a responsible Chief of the SID, it was his clear-cut duty to eavesdrop outside the door where his team members seemed to be trying to keep anyone from noticing they were having an argument. After all, if it were a legitimate, work-related argument, they could have it in front of everybody as usual, maybe at the meeting table or in the lab. But instead, Lao-Chu and Lin Jing sounded like they were having some kind of whisper-shouted fight in the first floor lounge, and Zhao Yunlan had to know what this was about.
He tucked himself by the side of the door and palmed the wrapper off a lollipop, holding it tight so it didn't crinkle right up until he pitched it silently into a trashcan. These two didn't normally bother each other over anything. Lao-Chu didn't sweat the shallow stuff, and Lin Jing was pretty universally obsessed with either geek tech or shallow stuff, and had a decent sense of self-preservation.
"Look, is this because you lost the betting pool?" asked Lin Jing. "Because we all owe Da Qing fish for about three months--"
"Mm, fatty salmon..." said Da Qing in what Zhao Yunlan recognized as the cat's sleeptalking voice. He sounded like he was out like a light on the other side of the room from the two officers who were arguing, so he probably wasn't involved. "...tuna belly...mmmrph..."
"I wouldn't make a bet I cared about losing," Lao-Chu growled. "You need to watch your mouth. Xiao-Guo doesn't need to hear that kind of crude gossip."
"Oh come on, like he doesn't... Wait, are you telling me he doesn't know this stuff? Lao-Chu, seriously. He's got to learn sometime!"
Zhao Yunlan leaned outside the door, twisting the lollipop in his mouth as Shen Wei, looking gorgeous as ever, trotted down the stairs with lunch in his hand. With a lift of an eyebrow and tilted chin, he silently asked if there was anything happening, and Zhao Yunlan waved casually to let him know this was business as usual. He certainly wasn't going to sound any alarms because there was something Guo Changcheng didn't know about yet. The pool of things Xiao-Guo didn't know about was big enough to host a pool party for every national Olympic swimming and diving team around the world, a full cast reunion of Playboy Bunnies from the last decade, and the entire combined talent of the pop music industries of Asia. Xiao-Guo knew about as much as a blank book -- which didn't mean that Zhao Yunlan wanted Lin Jing setting his training schedule. He'd assigned the kid to Chu Shuzhi for a reason. And yet...
Crude gossip wasn't something Lao-Chu would call anything that was work related.
Chu Shuzhi was very serious about saying, "Xiao-Guo doesn't need to do anything. You need to keep your mouth shut about things that aren't your business. Is personal discretion not a virtue in Haixing like it is in Dixing?"
"Wait, can you clear this up for me?" asked Lin Jing, not trying to be obnoxious, Zhao Yunlan could tell, but succeeding with flying colors. "What part of all this is your business? How much Xiao-Guo knows about blowjobs? Or Chief Zhao obviously having blown Professor Shen between yesterday and--"
Oh, he'd done way more than give Shen Wei a blowjob, Zhao Yunlan thought with a grin. Hot damn, but the man could fuck. Shen Wei kissed like he could eat you alive, and had plowed Zhao Yunlan's ass into the mattress until he saw enough fireworks behind his eyelids to light the Milky Way. Not to mention that the professor's very proper rule about "no marks above the collar" was definitely not the same as "no marks''. If Zhao Yunlan took his shirt off, everybody would know what he'd been up to. Still, there was way more wrong with this conversation than the implication that sexual health education in this country was failing their children badly enough that a college graduate didn't know what a blowjob was.
Although that was a problem, and it concerned him greatly, it wasn't his problem.
As he listened to Lao-Chu telling Lin Jing to shut his mouth, and Lin Jing protesting that he really wanted to know what Lao-Chu's standing in this fight was, Zhao Yunlan was fairly sure he also heard the Dixingren field agent obfuscate for about the fifty-second time since the good professor had hit their radar whether he knew that Shen Wei was from Dixing or not. Most of the time Chu Shuzhi had an unerring sense for strong dark energy users, like someone holding a magnet being able to sense another magnetic field, but he'd either clocked Shen Wei and opted to pretend he hadn't noticed, or Hei-laoge's control was just that good. One of these days, Zhao Yunlan would figure out which.
But not before Lin Jing had dug his own grave on the question of personal discretion. He had really decided to commit to sticking his head up his ass on this one, and the patience he had for eavesdropping while they went in circles was just about up. Since they hadn't wrapped this up like adults, Zhao Yunlan sauntered into the room and flopped on the chair by the door, contemplating the lollipop he'd been sucking. Both of his officers fell silent, watching him from where they were practically at each other's throats.
"Do I have this right?" Zhao Yunlan asked, fully intending to get everything wrong, but misdirection practically compelled people like Lin Jing to set you straight. The argument itself almost didn't matter; he knew how to end it, and could almost certainly crack the more ridiculous of these yahoos in well under five minutes. "This office had a betting pool on whether I would give Professor Shen a blowjob? Because let me just tell you, giving Shen Wei a blowjob is a privilege..."
Chu Shuzhi walked out of the room as fast as he could, while Lin Jing held his hands out in surrender. "No! No, boss, I swear..."
"Who in this office thinks that I wouldn't give a guy a blowjob?! What kind of jerk do you all think I am? Obviously, if I'm having sex with my wife, I would blow him. How was this even a question?"
"Everyone thinks you would give Professor Shen a blowjob, boss!" Lin Jing turned nervously to see the good professor himself standing in the doorway.
At the professor's arched eyebrow, Zhao Yunlan said, "Baby... You, me, most of the office... We all knew I'd do that since the day I met you. Subtle just isn't your hubby's style."
"Unquestionably," answered Shen Wei in a chill tone, walking over to perch with perfect posture on the arm of the chair where Zhao Yunlan had sprawled to interrogate Lin Jing. The smile he turned on the scientist was just as much a mask as anything Hei-laoge ever wore, and just as terrifying. Lin Jing was practically sweating out. Zhao Yunlan could feel himself glowing as he tried to thread his fingers into Shen Wei's grip and got himself a slap. He loved that man so much...
From his state of being frozen in fear, Lin Jing recovered acceptably fast, and confessed. Two minutes had to be a record. "I might have...tried to tell Xiao-Guo that you changed your hair because Professor Shen likes to...you know, pull? While you're giving him a blowjob?"
Zhao Yunlan nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. Yeah. That is none of your business." Whether or not he would give a blowjob was basic manners, but how Shen Wei liked it and details like pulling hair or not? Nope. That was personal.
His wife did happen to pull his hair while he was sucking cock, and Zhao Yunlan liked him doing it, because obviously Shen Wei was good at hair-pulling, but the point was that Lin Jing's whole attitude was ass-backwards here, and the scientist had no right opining about how he and his wife fucked. As soon as he figured out how to put this into paperwork appropriately, he'd have Wang Zheng cancel Lin Jing's next bonus. Possibly, he owed the SID money at this point. He might even have to rep the department at the next annual Party Seminar.
"That does explain why Chu Shuzhi brought Officer Xiao-Guo to me this morning to discuss your hair," Shen Wei added. "He seemed extremely confused."
"Really?" Running a hand through his bangs, Zhao Yunlan remembered seeing his hair in the mirror that morning, and how much he'd liked what he saw. He'd been too fucked out last night to know what Shen Wei was doing with his hair in the shower except that it felt good having his lover massage his scalp. And then he'd woken up with it looking amazing instead of like his usual bird's nest hair. "I thought it looked good, though. You like it, right?"
"Very much," his beloved wife answered, running a hand through this much more touchable hairstyle -- one of its many benefits, Zhao Yunlan had decided. If he got to have Shen Wei's hands in his hair like this all the time, he was never going back. "It's extremely becoming. But I actually came in here to give Da Qing some sardines before we left. He's been a good cat."
As the professor pulled out an oil-paper package, the sleeping cat on the couch across the room sniffed the air unconsciously. When he woke, he spotted the fish instantly, and sprang up to grab the package from the professor's hand. "Thanks, Professor Shen! You're the best!"
"All these extra snacks are coming out of your dinner," Zhao Yunlan warned.
Da Qing rolled his eyes at what they both knew was an empty threat and shoved Lin Jing lightly with his shoulder as he walked by. "You ready to butt out of Lao-Zhao's love life yet?"
"You bet on when they'd get together, too, Da Qing!" Lin Jing hissed as the Yashou headed toward the door.
"That's different. I'm a cat."
Yeah, different rules applied to people who could and did scurry out the window if they didn't want to witness a lot of loud, sweaty sex firsthand. Lin Jing, Lin Jing! So smart, but sometimes so unwise!
"I should probably...catch the bus to campus soon," said Shen Wei, standing up.
Zhao Yunlan gestured toward the door with a grin, rolling to his feet. "I'll walk you out!" Maybe if whatever blind alley Shen Wei planned to portal out of instead of actually taking the bus was secure enough from Cong Bo and his omnipresent cameras, he could talk his wife into a goodbye kiss! Probably not, under the circumstances, but a man could dream.
As the professor walked out the door, Zhao Yunlan cocked his head to make it obvious that he was admiring the cut of Shen Wei's trousers over his ass, then winked at the suffering Lin Jing before sticking his lollipop back in his mouth and strutting out after him. Shen Wei had stopped about five feet outside the door with a sigh and turned his head back over his shoulder like he could guess everything that had just happened. To be fair, Zhao Yunlan thought, slinging his arm around Shen Wei's shoulder, he had some shameless habits he didn't feel like changing when there were so many good things in his life worth appreciating right now.
~//~
The library was always quiet after hours, which made it the best time to study extra materials. And there were a lot of extra materials Changcheng had to catch up on, since he hadn't come to the SID with a background in law enforcement or anything about Dixing or Yashou, so he spent a lot of days using these quiet hours for reading. His current reading list hadn't taught him much in the immediate sense, despite the additional practice Chu-ge had given him with watching old interrogation videos to look for body language signs that people were being truthful, or dishonest, or when you'd found something they were hiding, or when they were scared...
It was a good training exercise for a day when he wasn't allowed to train outside the SID building because of the paparazzo stalking them. Chu-ge could defend himself from surveillance, but Changcheng didn't know how he could. There were just so many things, though! It didn't seem possible to know all of it from looking at people and nothing else. And of course, you did have to look at people for it to work, so there was that.
After giving it some thought, though, at least he'd sort of worked out why Chief Zhao had changed his hair! Not why Zhu Hong-jie had gotten drunk downstairs earlier and left strange messages on Chief Zhao's phone (he felt like maybe someone should have stopped her from doing that, but she outranked him by a lot, and Da Qing just looked uncomfortable about it before he called a cab to get her home and paid for it with the Chief's credit card? Which Da Qing had assured him Chief Zhao would insist on if he knew, after Changcheng tried to pay instead...) or why anyone thought his new hair was important, but between Professor Shen working with them regularly and living off-campus somewhere close enough that he could drive in with Chief Zhao, everything people had said about Chief Zhao not minding that this hairstyle didn't work with a motorcycle helmet seemed much more reasonable.
If he'd be taking the car with Professor Shen everyday, he'd barely be riding his motorcycle to work anymore! Maybe he would have always worn his hair this way if it hadn't been for the motorcycle helmet! But learning about body language was obviously still something he should do for his work as a police officer, and Chu-ge agreed, so Changcheng planned to do his best.
Taking his favorite table in the center of the room, where he could see if anyone came up the stairs or if either of the SID's permanent residents came out of the stacks, Changcheng spread out the books Sang Zan had held in his cubby and started reviewing the notes he'd taken that afternoon with Chu-ge. Now, which of these looked like it would be the best text to continue with? The dictionary of mannerisms, so he could compare what that said against his notes? Or more general theory, so he could get a better sense of the concept before working with particulars?
"Good night, Chief Zhao! Good night, Professor Shen!" called Lin Jing-ge from his lab downstairs. "Don't worry, I've got this end. I rigged a DMZ so when he captures the bait node, it'll expose his system to me without him actually cracking the secure local network for the SID. The shadow network image with spoofed data should fool him just long enough for me to take control of his system. You just reel him in."
Their scientist didn't usually work this late, but he'd seemed particularly eager to make a good impression today. He must have been showing Chief Zhao and Professor Shen some of his experiments, or something he'd been working on with the Hallows. Or had they located a suspect? Changcheng hoped they had more people than just the two of them if they were going against Zhu Jiu, but no one else was around, and his phone hadn't gone off.
He double checked for messages just in case, but there was nothing. They would probably tell him if he needed to be there, and he didn't need to ask?
Also from the direction of the lab, Changcheng heard Professor Shen call out, "Thank you for your assistance, Lin Jing. We'll let you know what the outcome is."
"Don't think you've earned your bonus back yet," Chief Zhao added. "You're going to have to do better than that."
The scientist's sigh was almost as creaky as the front door. "I know, I know. See you tomorrow."
Changcheng considered that, if he were a little more capable with talking to people, it wasn't that far a walk to the top of the stairs where he could wave goodbye, tell Professor Shen that he looked forward to working with him, and thank Chief Zhao for his hard work as always. All those normal sorts of things people did. But he hesitated a bit too long, and Lin Jing-ge wasn't talking anymore, so he had to be absorbed in his computer work. Even worse, he could hear Chief Zhao saying to Professor Shen, "Hey, look at that... Do you think we're alone?"
Now it would just be awkward for him to say anything. Changcheng curled his shoulders in on himself and tried to turn his pages as silently as possible. He could be a non-presence until Chief Zhao and Professor Shen left for the day. He was good at that!
Except instead of going out the front door, the two of them went into the Chief's office, and Changcheng could still hear fragments of their conversation coming up through the hole in the library floor around the fireman's pole Chief Zhao sometimes used when he needed to go directly from looking up something to taking an important meeting. To be honest, Changcheng hadn't known what that pole was for until the first time he'd seen Chief Zhao paging through resources in the library, suddenly look up at the clock, then stick a book in his back pocket and slide down the fireman's pole -- disappearing through the floor as Changcheng had run over to see him immediately open his office door to greet a city official with a handshake. At which point obviously Changcheng had ducked out of sight.
It did seem a little convenient, but at the same time, he couldn't imagine that the previous Chief of the SID had put it there or used it. And at the moment, Changcheng felt distinctly uncomfortable about being able to hear the conversation Chief Zhao and Professor Shen were having, which the workday noises would usually have covered up somewhat.
"Yunlan, we're hardly alone. Even if Lin Jing weren't here, you know the SID is never empty. Have a little propriety."
"Wang Zheng and Sang Zan do their lessons in Wang Zheng's study around now. They're not going to see us. Baby..."
Feeling his face flush, Changcheng got the sudden feeling he was hearing something he wasn't supposed to hear. Would it be better for him to leave as fast as possible? No, there were windows on Chief Zhao's office. They'd see him run, and they'd know he'd heard, and that he was running. Maybe he should drop something near the hole in the floor before they said anything really private, so they'd realize there was someone around?
That sounded like a better idea.
The Chief and the professor were whispering now, so he could only hear a few words here and there, most of which didn't make any sense together, like the professor saying things like, "finish this mission...get home...your back...mattress...make dinner," while Guo Changcheng inched closer and grabbed the sturdy-looking hook Wang Zheng used to close the blinds from a distance. That would probably make a good clatter when it fell, and not damage a priceless artifact.
The things Chief Zhao said were even more incomprehensible. Changcheng wasn't even sure that most of them were proper words. He'd heard "Baby" before, and "right here" was at least something he recognized, but he was pretty sure that, "portal instead...like it hot...all the nookie...take this ass...sexy," must have been something he'd misheard. Some of those weren't real words.
"Absolutely not," Professor Shen was saying. Changcheng was close enough that the whispers were clearer now, but he wanted to be right next to the hole in the floor so he could be sure the clatter from dropping Wang Zheng's window hook would carry. He didn't want to have to do this twice. "Yunlan, that would make a mess, and anyway...I'd prefer to take my time."
"See, that sounds like we're negotiating, baby," said Chief Zhao as Guo Changcheng got within six inches of the hole in the floor, flinching as he approached.
But he made himself turn towards the fireman's pole and open his eyes as Professor Shen said, "Yunla--" because he didn't want to drop the window hook through the floor, or fall through himself. That would be mortifying. And...
Oh no.
"Yunlan," said Professor Shen, barely breaking away from what had definitely been kissing. Extremely, intensely personal kissing. "That's enough misbehavior. Get your coat and let's get to Cong Bo's apartment. If we leave now, we can stop by home for dinner first, meet Cong Bo, and still get to bed at a decent hour." He nearly lifted Chief Zhao by his rear end from where he was sitting on the desk -- no, Chief Zhao must have been getting up himself, right? No one could have lifted a grown man with as much muscle as the Chief had that easily with just one hand...
Changcheng was frozen, hearing the Chief laugh, "The hour doesn't matter! When am I ever decent, Shen Wei, ah?" But the image of Chief Zhao rolling his shoulders and heading over to where he'd left his jacket past Changcheng's line of sight may as well have not existed, nor the back of Professor Shen's head as he stood still at the desk.
The visual centers of his brain were totally frozen on the split second he'd seen of Chief Zhao up on his desk, legs in unmistakable tight, shredded jeans hooked around Professor Shen's hips, hands clinging to Professor Shen's neck and shoulder. And Professor Shen had...had been...
Well, there was kissing, like aunties kissing you on the forehead, and then there was that, which technically he guessed was also called kissing, but it wasn't like anything Changcheng had ever seen, even in the movies. He hadn't actually gotten to see Chief Zhao's face, and the stunned, frozen Guo Changcheng found that he couldn't be entirely certain that Chief Zhao still had one. It was ludicrous to worry about because he'd just heard the Chief talking normally, but Professor Shen had practically been consuming the Chief's mouth?! And the professor's hands had been...
In Chief Zhao's hair. Holding the Chief's head still, his fingers combed through long, parted bangs hanging to either side.
Oh.
At the Chief's desk, Professor Shen was putting on his glasses, and looked over his shoulder as he turned around, smiling up at Changcheng as if he had already known he was there. His face was just as calm and friendly as ever, and yet somehow ten times more chilling than any death threat Guo Changcheng had ever heard in the field. Stepping back from the fireman's pole so quickly, he nearly ran into a table, Changcheng realized he hadn't been breathing and after a couple false starts managed to get a lungful of air. With it, he thought he might have gotten some idea why a professor would move out of campus housing to somewhere so far from the university -- and, of course, some impression of why Chief Zhao might want his hair this way. Or at least, why other people thought it had something to do with Professor Shen.
And, probably, if they kissed like that often... Chief Zhao would still have a face tomorrow. Right?
Maybe he really did need to read the book about love stuff. He could ask Sang Zan tomorrow.
~//~
Lunch break when they were between cases had always been Zhao Yunlan's favorite time of the day, since he didn't need to even pretend he was worried about what his people were doing with their time. Now that he had Shen Wei at the station to look at while he ate the best cooking on the face of the earth, lunch break had gotten that much better. Every day from now on, he'd get to eat three square meals of Shen Wei's home cooking (and his digestive system had given up trying to kill him for the first time in over a decade), feast his eyes on an endless parade of tailored suits and sweater vests adorning a man too gorgeous for words, and get his brains fucked out every night. Not to mention that his dishes were always clean, his laundry was always folded, and his floors were always vacuumed. He hadn't felt this good in years.
After savoring the last bite of chicken and vegetables in the boxed lunch Shen Wei had brought to his office, Zhao Yunlan leaned over the paperwork his beautiful wife was reading and kissed him as close to the mouth as he could manage from across the desk.
"Yunlan," Shen Wei scolded, startling slightly before he checked the office windows to see if anyone was watching.
Obviously no one was. They were all on their own breaks, on their own business, avoiding the shit out of their PDA-prone boss and the sexy professor he'd only recently gotten into bed with their pants off, because everyone knew what a couple on their honeymoon was like!
"Baby, it's break time! Taking some time away from work is good. That's science. Anyway," said Zhao Yunlan, settling down in his chair with feet propped on his desk so his skinny-jean-clad legs were splayed open in a way he knew Shen Wei found distracting -- and yep, he noticed those deliberately soft brown eyes turning knife-sharp as they studied his legs over wire glasses rims. "I just felt like showing some appreciation. I really don't know how I managed without you looking out for me."
"Badly," Shen Wei informed him with an arch expression, going back to his paperwork. "I'm convinced you only survived because you're perversely stubborn when confronted with opposition."
"Shen Wei, ah! Are you saying you played hard-to-get because you wanted to see me beg?" Putting on his most shameless, flirtiest tone, which was pretty damn shameless if he did say so himself, Zhao Yunlan slid a lollipop into his mouth and puckered up. "You know you only had to ask, right? There's more than one way I'd have gotten on my knees for you a long time before now."
He'd never particularly been a prize, emotionally, and his job was just as demanding as the one that had kept his dad away from his mom and from him all these years. Zhao Yunlan had made sure to be clear about his unavailability when he'd dated (versus hooking up) before, and it was no surprise that not one of those relationships had lasted. But he wasn't going to trap somebody in a marriage based on a lie. This, though... This wasn't a lie. He could share his life with Shen Wei, and never be that guy who said, "I'm sorry, honey, you know I can't talk about work," or who only showed up at home two days out of seven like a stranger who shared your bed. And fuck, he wanted to have something to give that showed Shen Wei he was a keeper. That he was for real.
Zhao Yunlan was still trying to figure out what he could do, what he had to offer, besides fucking, and fighting, and fast-talking his way out of a pinch. Shen Wei was intelligent, dangerous, beautiful, skilled... Someone he'd thank his lucky stars for the chance to wake up to every morning. And who was he? An emotionally constipated bastard cop. But fuck, he was gonna try.
And then Shen Wei's ten-thousand-year-deep brown eyes looked through him, the way they seemed to do sometimes, like his soul was under a microscope. "Zhao Yunlan. Now that I've found you, and you're mine, I will never let you go. Losing you was never an acceptable option."
What the hell could he say to that? He didn't know if his heart could take it. In lieu of having a good response, he slouched in his chair and cocked his head to the side, making eyes at Shen Wei through his eyelashes. "In that case, I hope My Lord will educate this servant thoroughly if anything at home is not to My Lord's satisfaction."
While Shen Wei's hungry stare promised a very detailed lesson plan between the sheets that evening, for the moment his beautiful wife just scoffed and went back to reading his papers. Well, patience was a virtue Zhao Yunlan had plenty of, although most people wouldn't believe it.
He'd lost count of how many moments he'd spent gazing at the fine lines of Shen Wei's eyebrows and eyelashes, as vivid and bold as a master's brushstrokes in ink on the flawless page of his face. Even the quirk of Shen Wei's lip into a rare, sly smile -- one that glimmered in a way the professor's usual pleasant, professional expressions didn't -- could make Zhao Yunlan lose all track of time. His lips were an unfair barrier to concentration. They could look so unforgiving when they frowned even slightly, with or without the silver-traced black mask, and could pronounce justice and mercy without hesitation over the fate of nations and the lives of mortals. And yet they were somehow as soft as fresh-bloomed peach petals in kisses that could be as demanding as the report of gunfire in the streets. If Shen Wei's mouth didn't taste like the memory of a home cooked meal at night, and mint toothpaste in the morning, it might be hard to believe a man that perfect was real and not a dream. All told, Zhao Yunlan hardly thought anyone could blame him for being preoccupied enough for a cascading series of thunks and crashes from the library upstairs to take him by surprise.
He jumped, and Shen Wei looked up with a slightly concerned frown. Without a word, they both headed for the office door, walking in lockstep down the hallway to where they could get a better view of what was happening.
They caught the tail end of a very flustered Guo Changcheng practically shoving an amused-looking Chu Shuzhi toward the railing that overlooked the office common space.
"Please, Chu-ge?"
The puppet master shrugged, half a grin on his face that was only visible to Zhao Yunlan because he'd turned it away from their greenhorn. Probably the grin would have detracted from his indifferent shrug. "Doesn't matter to me," the Dixingren announced, taking a seat by the railing.
As soon as Changcheng retreated, Zhao Yunlan shared a look with Shen Wei, and they immediately started up the stairs. Rather than bother the greenhorn, who looked absorbed in reading, surrounded by a pile of books at one of the library tables, they trailed up to Chu Shuzhi, who acknowledged their approach with a glance and went back to staring at his young trainee with an odd, distant look on his face.
"What was that all about?" asked Zhao Yunlan.
"I saw him studying and came to remind him that your policy is that no one works during their lunch break," Chu Shuzhi said, enunciating slowly. "Xiao-Guo didn't hear me walk up behind him."
Tilting his head, Zhao Yunlan shrugged, looking for more information. Xiao-Guo was hardly the most difficult person in the SID to sneak up on.
Lao-Chu turned towards him slightly more. "I've been training his ears to hear more subtle noises. No using headphones, playing his music only at certain hours and lower volumes. I had been walking up behind him stomping loud enough for him to hear at first and slowly walking more quietly. I walked up behind him at a footstep volume he can usually detect. Today, he was more preoccupied. So I asked what he was reading." Settling back down to observe his trainee from across the library, Lao-Chu stabbed a small dumpling out of a boxed lunch with a toothpick. "He panicked. Knocked over seven chairs, then pushed me over here."
As Lao-Chu popped the dumpling in his mouth, Zhao Yunlan noticed that the other dumplings in the box arranged on a bed of steamed vegetables appeared to have small smiling faces and stars drawn on them in some kind of brown sauce. He had a feeling Lao-Chu hadn't suddenly decided to pack lunch instead of scrounging from whatever was in the kitchen.
Not that he was going to poke his nose into another man's lunch being packed for him with love. It was only his job to get involved if Lao-Chu wanted something from Xiao-Guo the kid wasn't happy about.
"So," Zhao Yunlan asked. "What is he reading?"
"Your, ah..." Chu Shuzhi waved his hand dismissively. "Poetry Book. The one he has open didn't have another title I saw."
"The Book of Songs?" asked Shen Wei. "That's odd. Wouldn't Officer Xiao-Guo have memorized that in his early education?"
Looking carefully at the young man frowning and blushing over the old book on the library table, Zhao Yunlan touched a thoughtful finger to his lips. Thoughtful, but trying not to think about how many of the books on that table looked like they'd come out of the collection of old books he'd tried to buy for Shen Wei once upon a time. "Mm, yeah... He's not reading them to memorize them now, though. Look at that focus. He's thinking about them. He's got a stack, too. You see what else is in it?"
"It all looked like poetry. Collections from a few Haixing poets. Li Bai. Sima Xiangru. Li Zhiyi. Su Shi. Du Fu. Some other names. Collections by era. Something called The Hill Song." Their puppet master looked up at him and Shen Wei with a vaguely impressed expression. "This library apparently even has a copy of Odes to a Forgotten Moon."
Zhao Yunlan had copied a lot of verses in school, and regularly impressed politicians, businessmen, and (less regularly now) pretty faces in clubs with his better than average grasp of the classics despite his rugged, bad-boy demeanor, so when Shen Wei offered up a stunned, "...That's an astounding find," for a book Chu Shuzhi knew the title of, but that he himself had never even heard of? Well, it was easy to tell this was a book with a -- to date, at least -- somewhat underground target demographic.
He turned to Shen Wei for more of an explanation, and he wasn't disappointed. Eyes wide, in full professorial mode, the love of his fucking life started one those 'energetic lectures' all the undergrads were willing to get up at nine in the morning to attend. "It's a compilation of classic Dixingren love poetry, pieces collected from different authors over the centuries, some of which are only known to have been preserved in that book with the original writings lost. The collection itself is one I've only heard of and never seen. The Regent banned it at least one thousand years ago, claiming it spread dangerous ideas about returning to the surface. From what I understand, all printing blocks for it were destroyed centuries ago, and more recent versions were copied entirely by hand. All I ever knew about it were--"
Cutting off the rapid flow of words, Shen Wei turned to Chu Shuzhi, who was listening politely with slightly narrowed eyes.
With a professional smile, Shen Wei replaced whatever he'd been about to say with "...rumors." Following a respectful nod from Lao-Chu, the professor said, "It must have been with the effects of someone who came to the surface, and was either killed, or arrested and returned to Dixing. I would hope some paper trail exists that would allow the SID to return such an important volume to its owner or any family if it's ever safe to do so. But at the same time, it's a cultural legacy for the entire civilization that would be at risk of being burned if that book re-entered Dixing at the current time. All care should be taken to preserve the text, and the archival condition of the original volume. I hope you'll allow me to transcribe an additional copy, Zhao Yunlan."
"Let's preserve the cultural heritage of Dixing!" he agreed with a shrug. He'd already planned to swipe the book from Xiao-Guo's holds at the end of the day so he could read it himself. If there was love poetry from Dixing, his beautiful wife's birthplace, just sitting in their library, that was vital education he needed for a happy marriage! "Lao-Chu, have you read it before?"
The sour-faced puppet master shook his head and speared a steamed bit of cabbage out of his lunch. "I've seen a copy, once when I was very young, but I was never literary."
"Ah," sighed Zhao Yunlan. "So you wouldn't know if any of the poems were by Heipaoshi..."
That got him a scowling expression like he'd just tried to steal one of Chu Shuzhi's puppets, next to a blanched look of censure on Shen Wei's face mixed with just enough horror that Zhao Yunlan had no doubt... At some point, Shen Wei had written poetry in Dixing, and it was just a question of whether anyone had found it.
He waved his hands in surrender at the angry glares from both sides. "Hey! Come on! I can't be the only person who thinks Hei-laoge has a romantic soul and a way with words. How is it weird to think he'd write poems? Everybody used to do that."
Shen Wei turned to the side with an embarrassed huff, a pink blush faintly staining his ears and cheeks. Oh yeah. Published or not, he definitely used to write some kind of poetry, and love poems weren't out of the question. Zhao Yunlan had to wonder what kind of person had been lucky enough to claim Shen Wei's heart the last time, or the first time... Because ten thousand years was far too long for a person with a heart like his to have never loved, and Zhao Yunlan was far from the kind of idiot who expected a lover to come to him both experienced and without a history. He was happy to give Shen Wei a space in his life, complete with all the ghosts of old lovers, whether Zhao Yunlan ever learned those stories in the end or not. He squeezed Shen Wei's hand lightly, hoping he could feel that acceptance somehow. And Shen Wei's face was still stern when he looked back, but he squeezed Zhao Yunlan's hand in return.
Chu Shuzhi cleared his throat. He was pointedly looking in the opposite direction once Zhao Yunlan tore his eyes off of Shen Wei's face. "If His Highness, the Lord Heipaoshi, had ever published anything, everyone would know."
Zhao Yunlan wagged a finger at him, filing that away for future attempts to find out about Shen Wei's poetry that definitely existed. "You're right. What was I thinking?!"
Unpublished, anonymous, or under a pseudonym. Important information.
"Well, I don't think we're needed here?" he said to Shen Wei, starting back toward the stairs. Looking back at Lao-Chu, he asked, "You're just going to watch Xiao-Guo read?"
The Dixingren officer gestured at his half-eaten food with the toothpick he'd been using to spear bits of it now and again. "I am also on my lunch break," he explained, and went back to staring fixedly across the library.
Yep. They were not needed here.
~//~
"So will I be able to transmit files directly to your Chief when you're done here, or do I still have to come in person to your little clubhouse?"
Lin Jing turned to the hacker-journalist, Cong Bo, who'd been such a pain in their ass up to yesterday and who was now -- courtesy of the one-two punch of Chief Zhao's bulletproof charisma and some CCTV footage Lin Jing had liberated from a couple archives -- working for them. "Oh, no way in hell are you getting read-write access to our network."
"Then what are you even doing to my computer?!" the guy grumbled, fighting Lin Jing for the mouse for two seconds. "Is that a malware scan?" He managed to look even more insulted than when Lin Jing had shown up and identified himself as the person who'd back-hacked him in the first place. "You realize I do keep my system protected, right? I don't click on random links and I run a daily scan."
As if Lin Jing thought any guy with three monitors who tried to hack a secret government agency was running around without some form of malware protection. But that was commercial-grade shit, he thought rolling his eyes, and clearly Cong Bo had forgotten or never learned the rule that if someone could pwn your system, you didn't fucking question what they did to patch your exploitable vectors.
"Look," said Lin Jing. "You don't want to hook into our network, because the second you do, your box becomes a government information system, and the Haixing Inspectorate can claim it and any data on it at any time, without notice, okay? Trust me. There's a whole set of protocols you don't need to get into for your home computer, and you're up shit creek if you want somewhere for your personal data to live. And this does scan for malware, but it also assesses hardware and configuration vulnerabilities. By the time I'm done modding your system, the only way someone will be able to take it over is if they break into your fucking house while you're logged in and knock you unconscious before you can lock it. Even if they tell you to unlock it at gunpoint, I can set you up with an encrypted partition with a fake account and password that will look good enough to anybody, and send a distress signal to the SID on activation."
He and Cong Bo stared at each other for a few seconds before the journalist released the mouse with a grumpy, "Fine..."
After a few minutes of petulant silence and watching the status bar on his scan tick by, Lin Jing finally asked, "So... Those pictures you brought to the Chief to blackmail him..."
"It wasn't blackmail. It was demanding transparency from our public figures." The arch tone in his voice was really something else.
"Right." Lin Jing flicked his eyes from the computer to Cong Bo's face, watching the journalist turn wary. "So, what? Did you actually get pictures of him and Professor Shen fucking?"
Their new investigator rolled his eyes so hard, he looked like he should have given himself a concussion. "Don't be so banal. I only do exposés on things that aren't common knowledge, all right? I'm a whistleblower, not a tabloid scandal monger. And if they cared about hiding their relationship, I wouldn't have gotten chased out of their apartment building by the local auntie brigade, all thinking I was one of 'Xiao-Zhao's' exes trying to mess things up with his new steady boyfriend."
"For real?" asked Lin Jing, grin lighting up.
Cong Bo slumped in his chair and tossed his hands. "Xiao-Zhao's seeing a good man now! He's a professor up at DCU! They're very happy! That Professor Shen takes care of Xiao-Zhao! None of you lot used to look after him properly, and he'd always be hungover and have gastritis! Professor Shen has been so good for that boy. He's always smiling, finally eating properly and getting in at a decent hour, and so attentive and caring. I heard Xiao-Zhao say he's saving for a house! That Professor Shen is making an honest man out of him, and don't you go making trouble!" The epic stink-eye Cong Bo shot him had Lin Jing shaking from laughter. "What kind of exposé would that be? 'Entire neighborhood knows that local cop is fucking his boyfriend who transparently moved in across the hall.' God. I thought they were going to stab me and render me down to bones in a soup pot if I didn't get out. Stop laughing, it's not funny."
"It's kind of funny."
"Okay, yeah, it's kind of funny."
"And off the record," Lin Jing added, "they were still mutually flirting when Professor Shen moved in across the hall from Chief Zhao. They weren't fucking yet when that happened. Welcome to the office gossip network, nothing from the office gossip network goes in the blog. I will be enforcing that."
The journalist rolled his chair around so he could stare at Lin Jing. "He moved across the hall to flirt? Who does that?"
Lin Jing could only shrug. He worked with a lot of weirdos. Keeping a concept of baseline normal in their office was a lost cause. The golden rule of the SID was "You do you, buddy."
"But they're obviously having sex now," Cong Bo said, using his usual obnoxious, authoritative tone, but looking to Lin Jing for confirmation. "Like, Chief Zhao's excuse for telling Professor Shen to come over at night was so lame. Being too excited to sleep? And now he's got the..." Cong Bo gestured to his forehead, miming bangs parted to either side. "You know, the blowjob hair."
Raising his hands above his head, Lin Jing shouted, "Yes! Thank you! You get it! Because Professor Shen--"
"--is clearly a hair-puller," they finished together.
"Finally, someone who understands..." Lin Jing sighed.
"Your Chief would not go two seconds with his hair sticking up all funny the way it would with his old hairstyle if someone had been pulling his hair so they could fuck his face or something. At the same time, he's somebody who goes for a low-maintenance look, unlike the professor. Something where he knows he can always hit the road within five minutes of getting a call, no matter how fucked up or shitfaced he is. The math is really simple here: blowjob hair that can ride."
"I couldn't have put it better myself."
The silence was a little easier now as they watched the scan bar on the diagnostic click closer to 8%. Easier, but still silent, Lin Jing thought. "So you never told me what the exposé pictures actually were."
Cong Bo frowned, wrinkling his nose. "You ever seen Professor Shen using superpowers? Like telekinesis?"
Lin Jing's eyebrows shot up. "Not verifiably. Like, we all thought he was probably Dixingren, but we could never prove it. So you got it on film?"
The journalist's shrug absolutely radiated, I'm just that good. His words, despite sounding equally smug in tone, were, "Yeah, your Chief didn't sound all that surprised."
"I should hope not. I assumed he was so gung-ho about recruiting Professor Shen for the SID so he'd have an excuse not to deport him if his cover got blown," said Lin Jing with a wince. "Chief Zhao never needed to get the guy a job just to sleep with him."
The judgmental scoff from the next chair was completely uncalled for. "With the crazy hours you people work? I wouldn't be so sure. When's the last time you got laid?"
Turning completely away from the computer, Lin Jing raised a finger in Cong Bo's face. "Not a fair comparison. I may be the sweetheart of the national science community, but I'm still just an ordinary man compared to Zhao Yunlan. The Chief can fucking pull. Any bar he walked into, on- or off-duty, he was walking out with three phone numbers, guaranteed minimum, and the chance of a hook-up against the alley wall in the back. I think the longest dry spell I ever saw him have was when he was pining for Professor Shen. Obviously when I work crazy overnights like this, I'm not getting laid, and I hate it. That doesn't mean the Chief needed Professor Shen to match his schedule so they could fuck. He always found a couple hours somewhere."
"Hmm..." Cong Bo deflated with a grudging sigh. "Yeah. Of course he's like that. Guys like him aren't fair. Like, an ordinary guy has to choose between having a vocation and getting laid, because you put all your time into the mission. Cracking the case, finding the next lead. There's no clock on the truth," he said, petulant with sincerity.
"So, you too?" asked Lin Jing, nodding.
"Yeah."
The status bar on the computer said 11.5%
"This is probably going to take another two hours to finish." Lin Jing waved at the scan, which he knew better than to screw up by trying to reconfigure things while it was running. "Do you want to maybe order in dinner and fuck? I know a Sichuan place with good mapo dofu."
Cong Bo narrowed his eyes. "Stand up, take off your shirt, and turn around."
Fair enough, Lin Jing figured, stripping his shirt off over his head and turning around while Cong Bo did an inspection he was absolutely sure he'd pass, whether the guy was checking for a good body or for a wire. He kept in good shape, and please... As if he'd ever wear a wire that looked like a standard microphone pack! Also, he wasn't wearing a wire today. These were his non-audio/video glasses.
Still, he had some honor. "If you've got a console and MarioKart is more your speed, I'm good for that, too," offered Lin Jing.
"Nah, I could fuck," Cong Bo said, shaking his head. "But I'm not up for Sichuan right now. I'm thinking char siu."
"Char siu is good. I'll put it in and send you the split."
"Cool. I'll get plates and clear the bed."
Lin Jing opened his phone to order dinner, humming under his breath as the computer scan whiled away doing its business. That was tonight's plans settled, at least, and the boss couldn't even get mad at him for slacking! Bonus City, population: Lin Jing.