Work Text:
Ling Jiushi keeps holding Tan Zaozao in his arms long after she dies. He’s holding her and not letting go, rocking her slowly back and forth, back and forth, and stroking her hair gently.
She’s dead. And he’s stopped crying.
When the emergency services arrive, Lanzhu finally steps in. He can’t bear the thought of these people being unkind to Lingling. He would never stand for it, but especially not now.
He drops to his knees next to Ling Jiushi and rests one hand on his lower back. “Ling Jiushi… Lingling, let go,” he whispers gently. “Let her go.”
And he does. Slowly, Ling Jiushi opens his arms, releasing Zaozao, letting the medics take her. He follows their ministrations with his eyes but there’s little life in them and no hope. He knows there’s no bringing her back.
Lanzhu knows it too. Very well. Best of all of them. He’s known the rules since his very conception. He’s known them and accepted them, easily so. But lately, he’s been... living them - and it hurts.
“Come on,” Lanzhu whispers and takes Ling Jiushi by the shoulders, helping him stand. He has to hold him up, prop him up because Ling Jiushi's knees give out. But that’s okay, Lanzhu's strong enough. For Lingling, always. “Let’s go home.”
*
The ride back is quiet. They don’t talk.
Lanzhu had to help Ling Jiushi into the car, had to put on the safety belt for him because Ling Jiushi completely blanked out, he froze. For a moment there, he wasn’t even sure if Lingling was breathing. Lanzhu's never seen him in such a state and it’s starting to really worry him.
Ling Jiushi is staring down at his hands, numb and uncomprehending. Lanzhu glances that way, taking his eyes off the road for a second, and sees that Lingling’s hands are bloody. There’s a little blood soaked into his pants and his shirt, too.
Lanzhu hopes that Ling Jiushi didn’t cut himself on the broken glass of the fallen chandelier. He opens his mouth to ask - but then he doesn't. Lingling most likely doesn’t know himself, he would most likely not even answer anyway.
Lanzhu wants to stop the car and hug Lingling, just hug him and hold him. He doesn’t. He drives on.
*
When they arrive at the villa, Lanzhu has to help Ling Jiushi in.
The others are waiting for them, the mood in the living room serious and somber, grief hanging heavily over them. Qianli jumps to his feet but before he can say more than a hesitant “Lingling-ge…” Lanzhu shakes his head. Not now. Ling Jiushi isn’t even aware of them, it seems.
Lanzhu takes him upstairs, to Ling Jiushi's bedroom and through that to the bathroom where he strips him naked and guides him into the shower stall where he starts the water running. He needs to wash the blood off, the blood and the glass. Lanzhu doesn’t want Lingling to hurt himself. He doesn’t want Lingling to see Tan Zaozao’s blood when he comes back to his senses.
He’s been thinking of undressing Lingling, of touching him and of… other things, too, for quite some time now but none of that is on his mind right now as he runs the washcloth over Ling Jiushi’s arms and the palms of his hands, cleaning away all the physical evidence of Tan Zaozao’s death.
And Lingling just stands there and lets him, either he trusts Lanzhu that much - or he doesn’t care. Either way his eyes are completely blank and his breath is shallow, barely there, he's just a hollow husk. It’s terrifying, this emptiness.
Afterwards, Lanzhu dries Ling Jiushi off and puts him in some warm clothes, the earth colored sweater that he bought for him and his old pants, so worn, almost threadbare yet so comfortable and soft to the touch. Then he helps Lingling into bed and bundles him up and then he leaves to quickly change too because he’s soaked, having only removed off his outermost clothes, not wanting to make Lingling uncomfortable with his own nakedness if he came back to himself.
But when he returns, Ling Jiushi isn't asleep, he’s lying there just as Lanzhu left him, with his eyes open and staring at the ceiling without really seeing it - and he’s trembling all over, shaking almost visibly. Lanzhu touches his cheek, his hand and finds them chilled, almost icy cold, as if Lingling’s body lost its ability to generate heat.
Lanzhu calls Chen Fei.
“Lanzhu, I keep telling you I’m not qualified for this,” Chen Fei says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking Ling Jiushi’s wrist in his hand to check his pulse. He’s exasperated and worried - and he's not an actual human doctor, no matter what the others think!
Lanzhu’s leaning back against the head of the bed with Ling Jiushi nestled against his right side and he can feel the tremors running through the other man's body getting stronger, like he’s shaking apart.
And he still hasn’t said anything, Lingling, not a word. He isn’t asleep but he’s not entirely there either and Lanzhu… Lanzhu can’t take this. He doesn’t do helpless, especially when it comes to Lingling.
“Chen Fei!” he says quietly but firmly, cutting off all his objections. He simply stares at him, hard, until Chen Fei sighs and looks away.
“Alright, alright…” Chen Fei mutters and gets up. “I’ll be right back.”
When Chen Fei comes back, he orders, “Pull up his sleeve,” while he rummages through the contents of his not-doctor’s bag for a syringe and a small bottle, half full of a clear liquid. “It’s a mild sedative. It will help him rest - or it won’t harm him, at least. I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with him, he’s just…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. There's no need. Lanzhu was there and the others saw it on TV. In the chase after sensational news, it was aired life, the whole thing. And so they all saw it. Tan Zaozao’s death, Ling Jiushi’s despair, none of it was private.
After Chen Fei’s done, he puts away his things while Lanzhu pulls down Ling Jiushi’s sleeve, hiding the needle mark that should give him some relief. He’s watching Lingling blink more and more slowly, languidly, eyelashes fluttering, until he falls asleep, his head lolling against Lanzhu’s shoulder.
Lanzhu tries to move, to get up and let Ling Jiushi lie down more comfortably but Lingling instinctively burrows closer, throwing one arm across Lanzhu’s stomach, gripping him tight, hand fisted into Lanzhu’s shirt, one leg slipping between Lanzhu’s, pinning him down.
Breath catches in Lanzhu’s throat. This… he didn’t plan this. It wasn’t his intention to–
“Stay with him,” Chen Fei says softly as he gets up, snapping his bag shut with a metallic click. “Your company might help him more than the sedative. I think what he really needs right now is not to be alone.” And with that, he leaves.
Slowly, hesitantly, Lanzhu wraps his arms around Ling Jiushi, lightly stroking his hair and his back. He stares down at Lingling - and once again he sees him holding Tan Zaozao’s lifeless body, back there, on the stage.
And it hurts!
Tan Zaozao’s death. Lingling’s grief. Those things, they hurt and they're choking him and they're making his eyes burn. And Lanzhu doesn’t know what to do with that. He wasn't made for this. He was never meant to be like this. He’s never thought he could feel so much and so deeply, that he was even capable of it. And yet, here he is. He has friends and a family - and he’s fallen in love, so desperately that it makes him want to live.
Resting his hand on Lingling's sleeping face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb lightly, Lanzhu thinks to himself that... he was never meant to be anything more than an NPC, yet unexpectedly, he feels so human.