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Love always came in waves, quickly, devastatingly. If he were to run, it’d chase; if it wanted to take, it’d take. First, it’d be his heart, then his waking thoughts and dreams—and yet it still craves.
It craves and craves and craves until it destroys; his lover, him.
Wen Changchu wasn’t sure if Zhu Yishu was his first love. He’s lived for years, centuries, too long a time to tell now.
What he knew, however, was that when chaos had first broken out, Zhu Yishu was all he could think about. The way his eyes held him as though he were someone precious and delicate, someone deserving of care; how his ears reddened when he got flustered, the scarlet hue spreading all the way down to his nape; or how his voice was covered in a scowl as he barely maintained his calm, afraid to throw Wen Changchu in a temper tantrum that’d have him tear his wound open.
No matter how much Wen Changchu ran—amid blazing trees that once nicely lined up and lumber woods ripped apart, amid flower beds that were all burnt to a crisp while people and animals alike were embraced in a blazing fire that knew no rest—Zhu Yishu was nowhere to be found.
The familiar scent that had seeped itself deep into his bones, carving its place close to his heart, seemed to have completely disappeared, just as the warmth of slender fingers running through his hair to coax him into calming down had.
It was like all his thoughts revolved around Zhu Yishu; how he had to find him, how he didn’t want to lose him, how he couldn’t bear to lose him.
When he came face-to-face with Qingyuan, it didn’t take long for his patience—which was hanging on to a thread to begin with—to run thin either. His eyes were filled with contempt as he towered over her, and if it were up to him, if Zhu Yishu was right by his side, he would have killed her.
Still, no matter how much he wanted to slash his blade across her neck, he held it together. Not for himself, definitely not for her, but for Zhu Yishu’s sake. With his voice a few octaves lower, he asked, “Where have you hidden Zhu Yishu?”
Even though Qingyuan outwardly put on a composed front, the quiver in her shoulders betrayed her in an instant. Wen Changchu couldn’t help but laugh at the irony as he dragged the blade forward.
Pressing the tip against her throat, he watched as the blood trickled down her neck, feeling almost a little too gratified at the sight. Meanwhile Qingyuan, on the other hand, was now scared witless. Her voice gave off a sense of urgency, and the words slipped past her lips almost hastily. “In the dungeon at the back of the mountain!”
Wen Changchu should have killed her then and there, for whipping him, for hiding Zhu Yishu away in the first place, but things never really went his way, and someone always had to interfere—in this instance, it was Dai Yanxing.
He begrudgingly left them behind and climbed up the back of the mountain in search of Zhu Yishu. As soon as he took his first step, his sensitive nose picked Zhu Yishu’s trace back up. Wen Changchu followed its trail, walking the bumpy path among rubble. The trees were enveloped in a fire that oddly looked like an inferno and proved to be the sole source of light among the pitch-black preventing him from tripping over his feet.
When he finally found the man, Zhu Yishu was sitting in the corner, his body stained with blood and covered in filth—not a single spot left unblemished. His breath had long ceased, and his heart had come to a halt.
At first, Wen Changchu didn’t know what to do; caught in a trance of disbelief, caught in his own mind listening to the soft tone of Zhu Yishu’s voice, the sound of his laughter, his scent, his breath and how it sounded like music to him.
The first rays of the morning sun spilled over the earth and he snapped out of his reverie, jolted back into reality. Wen Changchu walked over to Zhu Yishu’s side, slow and steady, opening his outer robe, and kneeled down to pick Zhu Yishu’s entire body up.
As he did so, Zhu Yishu’s head fell limply to the side, against his shoulder. Wen Changchu shrunk back, and it didn’t take long for his face to drop. Lowering his head, he looked at that serene face and whispered, “What’s so good about this place? I’ll take you away.”
No matter how much he wished for things to be different, he was too late; he couldn’t turn back time. With his lips trembling, Wen Changchu took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions as he let Zhu Yishu eternally rest in his arms. He bit down on his lips, hard, as though that’d make everything easier, as if biting them into a bloody mess would make it easier.
Then it happened. Just as he was about to take a step forward, the person he yearned to see alive the most, suddenly started raising his head. It was hot, burningly so, like his entire skin was being sizzled off and yet, Wen Changchu couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t just simply throw him off.
Originally, Wen Changchu wanted to take him away, somewhere far away where no one could reach them, safe and content. Thinking about it now, it was all a little ironic.
Clearly, Wen Changchu was the one who said that he’d take Zhu Yishu away and it was also Wen Changchu who had held Zhu Yishu in his arms, carrying his supposedly dead body. So how come in the end he was the one being taken away, by the same person he thought dead nonetheless?
To make matters even worse, the guy turned out to be actually batshit insane. Not like the Zhu Yishu who always wore a warm smile, the Zhu Yishu who was always clean and gentle, who was surrounded by the pleasant smell of incense and was overall soothing to be around, able to easily calm his thumping heart.
He didn’t know what was wrong with this Zhu Yishu, with his eyes as red as rubies, dressed as though he were a Chinese flowering crabapple while his every fiber burned like a fierce wildfire. Wen Changchu also wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know in the first place. Though his face was the same, his eyes still smiling and his expression still gentle, there was something almost deranged about him. Without fail, every time he tried to run, he would be picked up by the scruff like a puppy and dragged back right to where he started.
However, the worst part of it all was undoubtedly Zhu Yishu’s obsession with getting Wen Changchu to call him father. He only needed so much as to even hint at it, and Wen Changchu would gnash his teeth and frown. When Wen Changchu first approached Zhu Yishu, he had initially tried to bed him and maybe he even fell for him a little more than was necessary in the process—so much so in fact, that he was willing to do nearly everything that was asked of him—but calling Zhu Yishu father was really going too far now!
Now, the moment he steps outside that irritating breath coils down his neck and feathers tickle at his nape, sending shivers down his spine. His ears tingle and immediately follows the sing-song voice that calls his name in a tone that feels almost too endearing yet equally obsessive. Slender fingers would then make their way around his waist and before he knew it, he’d be in Zhu Yishu’s embrace.
Recently, though, he hasn’t seen Zhu Yishu around all that much. Maybe this is God’s way of telling him to get out while he still can, or maybe Zhu Yishu simply grew tired of him and had enough. ‘That’d be fine too’ he thinks, or wants to believe he does.
Pushing his thoughts aside, he takes the chance to dash down the stairs right out the front door—besides Zhu Yishu, there’s no one keeping watch over him anyway—but as fate has it, there he is, making his way over to him. If he feels a slight sense of relief wash over him, then he doesn’t let it show and if his heart beats several beats faster than usual, then no one needs to know.
At first he cursed, scoffing so loudly he’s sure Zhu Yishu heard it, but when no reaction came from the latter, he met him halfway despite his feigned indifference.
Coming to a stop in front of him, Zhu Yishu looked him up and down, his eyes curving into thin arches as a mild smile played on his lips. “Chuchu, were you waiting for me?”
“Not really.” Wen Changchu said nonchalantly, and he could swear that Zhu Yishu’s voice sounded lighter, quieter, and maybe somewhat weak.
He moved in closer, staring at the sweat dripping off Zhu Yishu’s forehead down to his nose, the sweat that shouldn’t have been there because Zhu Yishu is a phoenix; because Zhu Yishu has a much higher tolerance for heat than the average person does.
When Zhu Yishu staggered forward, tumbling directly into his arms, it all clicked into place. His hands holding onto Zhu Yishu’s back felt wet, thickingly so, and it felt as though a warm liquid was seeping through the gaps of his fingers, dripping down Zhu Yishu’s back. A sharp metallic scent filled his senses, and when the realization came, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Wen Changchu looks down, to the torn robes on Zhu Yishu’s back, the ghastly wound still oozing blood and his hands covered in red now—Zhu Yishu’s red—and his stomach churns.
Immediately, the expression in his eyes changes, twisting into a mixture of horror and concern. He stammers, “Zhu Yishu, you… That wound…”
Zhu Yishu laughs, brushing it off like it’s nothing. In reality, although his wounds normally mend rather quickly—all he needs to do is get some rest and all is well—it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel pain. He’s felt it before, a pain far worse than this, excruciatingly so, back when he powerlessly watched the Wen Changchu of the past fall to his demise, taking his last breath in a desperate struggle after shielding Zhu Yishu from harm. So when his eyes meet Wen Changchu’s that seem to contain the night sky and all its stars, a part of him doesn’t understand why he gets so fussy over such a small injury. Another part of him relishes in it, and then there’s the more twisted part of him, the part that wants to get hurt even more to see just what kind of expression Wen Changchu would make if he were to be on the brink of death a second time. But he doesn’t. Instead, he sighs, reassuring the pup that there’s really no need to worry.
“It’s nothing.” Zhu Yishu said, not being able to hold himself back from teasing him after all. “But Chuchu~ I’m so honored that you’re worrying about me.”
“Nothing my ass.” Wen Changchu rebuked, picking Zhu Yishu up to carry him inside. His hold on him was gentle, firm enough to not drop him but loose enough to not hurt him, while he carefully maneuvered his way through the entrance. With the way his hands and Zhu Yishu’s clothes were steeped in blood, it nearly seemed as though they had returned to the chaos back in Mo Yao Sect.
After entering Zhu Yishu’s bedroom, Wen Changchu wasted no time in carefully laying the bird down to rest. He brought over a towel and a bowl of clean water and sat down next to his bedside.
Zhu Yishu had a complicated expression on his face, quietly watching him for a moment. “Chuchu, are you mad?”
“No.” Wen Changchu shot back, avoiding his eyes to focus on tending to the wound on Zhu Yishu’s back. He carefully cleaned it and applied a bit of pressure to stop any bleeding, making sure to remove any dirt or debris that may have gotten into it beforehand.
“Are you sure?”
“If I said no, then yes, I’m sure.” Wen Changchu didn’t mean to sound as snappy as he did, but for some reason his heart ached. Accompanied by a sharp, unbearable pang of pain, it made its waves throughout his chest, as if it wasn’t Zhu Yishu who got hurt, but him.
For a while, neither of them said anything. Wen Changchu, attempting to be as gentle as possible, carefully wrapped his wound up in a clean bandage and got up to take away the bowl, which was now filled with crimson water. Then, as he turned to leave the room, Zhu Yishu reached out and impulsively took hold of Wen Changchu's sleeve. Zhu Yishu also didn’t know what had overcome him, but something was screaming at him to hold onto him, to not let Wen Changchu go right in this moment. “Wen Changchu, you…”
Slipping out of his grasp, Wen Changchu scoffed. “Don’t worry, I won’t run away. I’m not heartless enough to leave you by yourself with these wounds.”
Zhu Yishu could only helplessly watch as Wen Changchu left the room. For a moment, he considered running after him, to grab hold of him, and force him to talk if he must. But Wen Changchu had always been stubborn and would undoubtedly get mad at him for chasing after him. Admittedly, he thought it was quite cute, but right now, no matter how unusual, he didn’t feel up to it. Not after the way he looked battered and broken, like Zhu Yishu’s injury affected him more than he let him know.
Meanwhile, Wen Changchu was mad, not at Zhu Yishu, but at himself. He wanted to rip into whoever did this to Zhu Yishu, tear them apart, make them beg for mercy, and even then he wouldn’t grant it to them. Realistically speaking, however, there was nothing he could do.
He couldn’t run away from Zhu Yishu even if he tried, even if he originally wanted to and while he wasn’t weak, Zhu Yishu was much stronger than him. So just what was there that he could do for him? Wen Changchu couldn’t think of one thing. In the scheme of grander things, he was powerless.
He couldn’t protect Zhu Yishu.