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Lao Gu was not usually in the habit of judging people. He was not in the habit of thinking about people, most of the time. He was a simple merchant, wanting to make a simple living, and put people into three categories: customers, loan sharks, and royalty. The first made him money, the second took it away, and the third existed.
Jiang Xuanyu, a fellow man of fashion, was the closest thing Lao Gu had to a friend.
“I know, I know, it’s a little more expensive than the silk you get from Dawei, but the quality in Shengjing far surpasses—”
“Is there something wrong with him?” Lao Gu whispered from behind his teacup. He flicked his nose sideways, unskilled in the art of social subtlety. He could no longer go on discussing market spikes and seasonal trends when there was another—more pressing—issue.
Jiang Xuanyu looked in the indicated direction and almost choked on his tea. “Of course not! No? Why would there be?”
“His highness seems to be”—Lao Gu lowered his voice further—“caressing his stomach.”
Jiang Xuanyu shook his head, laughing. “He—haha. Hasn’t been feeling well. Stomach issues.”
Now, even Lao Gu—a man with limited interest in people—had heard tales of Prince Su. A noble warrior, just and trustworthy, but not one to be trifled with. If the man sitting in the inn was him, Lao Gu thought the tales had been generous. In the time they’d been dining together, his highness uttered about five intelligible sentences, seemed to be having a conversation with his lap, and Lao Gu swore he could see him stuffing food into his robes.
He was not usually in the habit of gossiping, either. When Prince Su tightened one hand in his robes and gave a pained hiss, he couldn’t help himself. “Is it true what people are saying?” He caught himself, clearing his throat. “I was forced to overhear a rumour about your friend, Prince Yuanzheng.”
Jiang Xuanyu laughed again, his voice growing squeaky: “Xiao Zhong Zhong? What about him?”
“Is it true his highness”—Lao Gu flicked his nose again, though there was probably no need to be discreet when Prince Su was having a conversation with himself—“and Prince Yuanzheng are getting a divorce?”
A lot of people passed through Lao Gu’s shop every day, and he would not be the popular merchant he was if he didn’t engage in small talk. His highness Prince Su was meant to be accompanying Prince Yuanzheng on his diplomatic visit, but had arrived alone. Jiang Xuanyu was a good friend of Prince Yuanzheng’s, but was part of Prince Su’s entourage. Lao Gu was not a people person, but he could guess how the dots connected.
“What—that—of course not,” Jiang Xuanyu said, and just as he stopped sputtering, there was a resounding clang as Prince Su’s palm hit the table.
“Hey! Stop! Where are you going?” the man yelled, shooting up to his feet and looking at the floor. He flashed a helpless look at Jiang Xuanyu, ignored Lao Gu altogether, and ran towards the door as if he was chasing after an invisible enemy.
“His highness had too much to drink,” Jiang Xuanyu said, after a pregnant pause.
Lao Gu nodded, happy in the knowledge that he would not be struggling with conversation cues in the next few days. He was not usually in the habit of caring about other people’s business, but he was a good businessman. And nothing—not even the highest quality Shengjing silk—sold as well as rumours.
*
Xu Jin needed to sleep.
He knew it, he felt it—the way his vision started growing fuzzy with each page flipped, the heaviness settling into every cun of his body and making it hard to flip pages in the first place—and he had no intention of doing it. Wumei had finally fallen asleep, settling over his lap after one of his nightly energy bursts. It was tempting to follow his example and leave the books for the morning, but Xu Jin couldn’t afford to lose time. He could deal with sleep deprivation.
He had a curse to break.
There was no time limit Xu Jin was aware of, no official deadline after which Wumei couldn’t recover. Xu Jin didn’t need it. Wumei was right there—peaceful in his sleep, nose twitching with each inhale, giving little huffs that Xu Jin found adorable despite the gravity of the situation—but Xu Jin missed him. He missed their conversations, and Wumei’s nagging, and what even was the point of going to sleep when Wumei wouldn’t hog the blankets and wrap himself around Xu Jin’s back.
These days, he would only scratch at Xu Jin’s stomach in his sleep, and then scratch some more to wake him up. Xu Jin was up, so Wumei wouldn’t need to scratch. Win-win for the both of them, and maybe—just maybe—Xu Jin would find a solution in one of the books and there would be no more scratching. Only of the human kind.
A tap on the door made Xu Jin look up and realise the sun was already peeking in through the screens. He yawned at the sight, and Wumei woke up. Xu Jin petted his head, hoping his husband could go back to sleep—for the both of them—but the door slid open to reveal Jiang Xuanyu and a pair of attendants, carrying breakfast trays.
“You didn’t sleep,” Jiang Xuanyu said by way of a greeting.
Xu Jin hummed in response, leaning back on his palms. He knew what was coming—the very same thing that happened every morning, Wumei’s ears perking up at the sound of Jiang Xuanyu’s voice, the bundle of fur in Xu Jin’s lap springing up violently and running towards the door for good morning cuddles.
This was another reason why Xu Jin needed to break the curse: his husband got turned into a rabbit, could no longer talk to him, and cuddled up to his best friend with zero inhibitions while Xu Jin couldn’t even be jealous because, back to point one, his husband got turned into a rabbit.
“Xiao Zhong Zhong, did you sleep well?” Jiang Xuanyu cooed as soon as the attendants left them in the room alone.
He hoisted the bunny up—eliciting a slight hiss from Xu Jin, even though Jiang Xuanyu had actually been the one to teach Xu Jin how rabbits should be held—and carried him off to the breakfast spread, muttering nonsense that made Xu Jin feel like he was the one encroaching on their domesticity. He was tempted to ignore Jiang Xuanyu and go back to his books. He needed answers, as soon as possible.
“What are you in the mood for today?” Jiang Xuanyu kept talking, folding himself down so that Wumei could rest in his lap. Ridiculous. It was no place for Xu Jin’s husband, but Xu Jin couldn’t even be jealous properly because his husband was a bunny. “Choy sum? Gai lan? Lettuce?”
“No more choy sum for him,” Xu Jin said, cracking his joints as he stood up to follow them. “Upsets his stomach.”
Of all the skills Wumei’s current form had stripped away, glaring was not one of them. Xu Jin smiled at the sight, instantly feeling less irritable. It was good to have reminders that Wumei was still Wumei, just smaller and nonverbal.
Jiang Xuanyu clicked his tongue. “Aish, even choy sum makes you gassy?” he scolded playfully, scratching behind Wumei’s ears. “First no carrots, now you’re even picky with your greens.”
“It’s not his fault,” Xu Jin said, desperate to earn himself good husband points. “It’s his digestive system.”
Jiang Xuanyu rolled his eyes. “Maybe this is all a ploy to make a rabbit farmer out of you, Prince Su.”
Xu Jin didn’t dignify that with a response, content with having Wumei scramble from Jiang Xuanyu’s lap back into his. From frowning to nosing at Xu Jin’s palm, Wumei was just as moody as ever. More reasons to keep up hope.
Jiang Xuanyu didn’t bother arguing for long, turning his attention to the food. He slurped his soup, Xu Jin picked at the meat, and Wumei crunched his greens. A failure of a diplomatic mission—the main negotiator having no human form, and his right hand being too preoccupied researching curses to hang out with the local royalty—but a stranger might see the image and call it an idyllic road trip.
“The rumours are getting out of hand,” Jiang Xuanyu said after finishing the last of his meal. He’d obviously been stalling, working up his courage to deliver the news. “Half this town is convinced that you’ve split up.”
“Let them think what they want,” Xu Jin said, staring at his bowl. Rumours were pretty much the last thing on his mind. It was already cumbersome that he’d have to stop his research and meet the taizi for tea the following day. Perhaps he could take Wumei with him, he’d been getting less jumpy in Xu Jin’s robes and—
“Hey!”
Wumei bit his thigh.
“Xiao Zhong Zhong doesn’t think that’s wise,” Jiang Xuanyu said, as if Xu Jin needed him to translate. “And I don’t, either.”
“My husband is currently a rabbit”—Xu Jin paused, just in time to prevent another bite—“forgive me if I don’t care about rumours.”
“I understand, but you can’t just say that to the court.”
“Pardon me, I should’ve said the Emperor Regent is currently a rabbit,” Xu Jin said, channelling Wumei with a sarcastic bite to his tone. “Forgive me if I don’t care about rumours.”
Jiang Xuanyu sighed. He looked at Wumei—who was already ignoring their conversation, back to stuffing his face with greens—and grumbled: “This is all your fault, you know. Always getting into fights.”
He was teasing, and he was partially right. Wumei could never keep his temperament on a leash, his words always got him into trouble. It just so happened that this time, the target of his snark was a travelling salesman with curses in his wares. If Xu Jin could find that man, he’d—
“What are you going to do?” Jiang Xuanyu asked, tone suddenly serious. He was looking at Xu Jin with a concerning expression of sympathy, voice quiet like he was hoping Wumei’s bunny ears wouldn’t pick it up. “If he never—you know.”
Xu Jin had considered the possibility, of course he had. If he returned to Shengyuan with a rabbit instead of a husband, he’d probably get accused of treason right away. He was supposed to be accompanying the Emperor Regent on his travels, and if the man disappeared while away, with no court witnesses to speak in Xu Jin’s favour…
“He will not stay a rabbit,” Xu Jin said out loud, giving Wumei a few apologetic scratches. He was a very cute rabbit, despite it all.
“But if he does?”
“He won’t.”
“Xu Jin.”
“We’d move someplace far from the court, grow vegetables and greens,” Xu Jin said, clipped, indicating that this was all he was willing to share on the topic. “Fresh air makes him happy. Maybe he’d find other rabbit—friends.”
“Xu Jin,” Jiang Xuanyu repeated, this time looking downright mournful.
Xu Jin couldn’t have that. “He won’t stay a rabbit.”
He followed the sentence with a yawn, pushed his food away for good, and his thoughts were drifting back to the last scroll he’d been reading before Jiang Xuanyu’s arrival, when he felt something latch onto his foot.
Ah, not this again.
“Mei-er, please—don’t.” Xu Jin tried to push the bunny off, gently.
Wumei’s ministrations were the opposite of gentle.
“I think he doesn’t want other rabbits.” Jiang Xuanyu cackled. He got up from his seat, brushed his robes and ran off like he was leaving a crime scene. “I’ll send someone to fetch the dishes.”
Xu Jin glared at him. His hand was getting scratched red—Wumei not respecting the attempts to protect his innocence—and Jiang Xuanyu just left him there. Some friend he was. Xu Jin stood up to dislodge Wumei, feeling like he was betraying him in the process.
Running away from his husband. His husband, who was a rabbit. His rabbit husband who was trying to hump his leg.
It wasn’t fair.
Wumei was right there, and Xu Jin really missed him.
*
Lao Gu’s showcase had been a success.
He knew, because he’d asked most of the visitors to get confirmation. All sung him praises, admiring the new silhouettes, the exquisite materials, and the beautiful presentation. Only two of the guests had appeared… apathetic.
“It’s only a matter of time until you’re being copied by all the fashion houses in town,” Jiang Xuanyu said, clinking their cups of wine. “The highest form of flattery.”
“I suppose Shengjing won’t be joining in anytime soon,” Lao Gu said, looking behind his friend’s shoulder. “His highness didn’t seem impressed.”
“Oh?”
Since he was a staunchly non-judgemental person, Lao Gu didn’t need incredible observation skills. His customers were his livelihood, the only observing they needed was to ensure they left the shop satisfied. The loan sharks were usually too violent to even give him a chance to observe. Royalty, Lao Gu didn’t need to observe them to know that they were the same as everyone else, only dressed in more lavish disguises. However, the Emperor Regent and his husband were… too peculiar to escape observation.
In all fairness, Prince Su had not talked to his robes that day, got rid of the scratching habit, and sat in place for the duration of the showcase. Prince Yuanzheng—a normal person upon first introduction—started running around the store in the middle of Lao Gu’s closing speech, and randomly flopped to the ground. Twice.
“Don’t mind Xiao Zhong Zhong,” Jiang Xuanyu said, drinking the rest of his wine in one gulp. “He’s had too much to drink.”
“Never a boring day with those two?”
They were currently hiding in the corner, whispering to one another, stuck at the hip just like they’d been during the show. Giving a show of their own, really, Lao Gu had to wonder if this was just a desperate attempt to put a stop to the divorce talk.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Jiang Xuanyu said.
Lao Gu hummed.
It was not nice to have the visiting Emperor Regent make light of his collection—stealing attention by feeling up his husband and running circles around like a rabbit—but it wasn’t bad for business, either. The tale would be on everyone’s lips. His new collection would be the closest people would get to catching a glimpse of the spectacle.
“Celebrating the end of a successful trip,” Lao Gu said, nodding with understanding.
“You could say that,” Jiang Xuanyu said, and left in search of more wine.
*
Bonus not-really-related sketch
