Chapter Text
“You are almost out of Drunk Like A Dream, A-Xu,” Kexing says as he lights an incense of the herb.
Zishu hums noncommittally, comfortable where he is snuggled up in his blankets. He doesn’t even open his eyes as he says, “It’s fine, I’ll make more in the morning.”
“I can make some for you,” Kexing offers.
“No,” Zishu denies immediately, “The orange daylilies in the incense are dangerous if handled incorrectly. It’s better if you don’t touch it.”
When Kexing does not reply, Zishu cracks an eye open to see the younger pouting straight at him. He hears the whine before the “A-Xuuu!” even comes out of his Lao Wen’s mouth.
Zishu tugs him down to the bed that he is lying on, and pulls him close. “Don’t touch it, Lao Wen.”
Instead of replying, Kexing leans forward and presses a kiss to Zishu’s lips. When he tries to pull away, Zishu locks an arm around Kexing’s neck and holds him there. “Lao Wen,” Zishu mumbles, straight against Kexing’s cheek, “Tell me you won’t touch the herbs.”
At this proximity, there is little Kexing can do but give in.
“Alright! Fine. I won't touch the herbs.”
“Good,” Zishu says, and goes right to sleep.
Kexing obeys Zishu’s order.
It does not matter that he only obeyed it for ten minutes. He still obeyed it.
It’s just a herb! How dangerous can it be? He was the great valley master, the conqueror of 3000 ghosts. A herb is not going to hurt him. Right?
An hour later, when there is only an orange puff of smoke where the orange daylilies were just a moment ago, and his fingers have begun faintly smoking at the tips, Kexing realises that perhaps he screwed up. Of course, it is at this moment that the door opens, and Han Ying walks into the mess of an apothecary.
“My lord?” Han Ying asks, taking in the very orange apothecary, and a very orange Wen Kexing in the middle of it. “I thought we weren’t supposed to touch the orange daylilies.”
If Kexing wasn’t worried about getting the orange mess all over his hair, he would have scratched his head sheepishly. As it is, he simply holds out his hands at arms length, and stares pitifully at Han Ying.
“Should i get Zhuangzhu?” Han Ying asks, even as he steps further into the room and closer to Kexing.
“No!” Kexing denies quickly. Too quickly.
Han Ying’s eyes widen imperceptibly. However, instead of running off to Zishu like Kexing had half expected him to, he comes closer to Kexing and takes a closer look at the mess on the table. Kexing sees the chance, and takes it.
“Ying'er, won’t you help your poor lord?” Kexing pleads, letting his voice turn whiny.
It works, because unlike Zishu, Han Ying did not have time to build up a tolerance against Kexing’s puppy eyes. And also because Han Ying was devoted like that. Han Ying begins to look through the scroll containing instructions about Drunk Like A Dream, trying to find a way to reverse the smoking that is emitting from both the table and Kexing’s fingers. They try a few things, but nothing seems to work. After the sixth failed attempt at treatment, Han Ying begins to look nervous.
“Should we get Zhuangzhu?” Han Ying asks again eventually, after the eighth failed attempt.
“You should,” Zishu’s voice answers from the doorway.
Both Han Ying and Kexing startle at the sound of his voice, freezing like deer in headlights. A-Xu steps into the apothecary proper, and barely spares a glance for the scene in front of him as he goes about making a cure for their little predicament. It makes Kexing wonder how long he has been listening for. Zishu is quick about it, mixing a solution from the liquid jars and dunking Kexing’s hands into it. Almost immediately, the smoking stops. Zishu throws the rest of the solution onto the table, and the air clears. It is almost embarrassing how quickly Zishu solved the issue. Kexing bites his lip, looking sheepishly up at his A-Xu.
Zishu stares at him and Han Ying in turn. Han Ying has shifted into a parade rest, with his hands clasped behind his back and staring straight ahead, not daring to meet Zishu’s eyes. He looks a little scared, and Kexing feels slightly bad for dragging him into this.
“A-Xu …” Kexing tries.
“Both of you. Come,” Zishu says, and walks right out of the room.
“Sorry,” Kexing whispers quickly to Han Ying.
“It’s okay, my lord,” Han Ying whispers back, but his smile is a little wobbly.
Kexing cues into what the anxiety is about immediately. Han Ying is still so new to this game of theirs, after all. “You’re ours, Ying'er. Getting into trouble is not going to make him give you up. I promise.”
He hits the jackpot, because the relief on Han Ying’s face is palpable. “Now let’s go, quickly. Before A-Xu throws a fit about us disobeying even more.” Kexing says as he grabs Han Ying’s hand and pulls him out of the apothecary.
When they make it to the manor lord’s room, Zishu is already seated on the floor at the low table, pouring himself a cup of wine. Han Ying automatically folds himself into a kneel before him, folding both hands on his lap. Zishu reaches out and tips Ying’er’s chin up, meeting his eyes. Kexing watches as Zishu searches for something in Han Ying’s eyes.
“I am not angry. Promise,” Zishu says so softly that Kexing can barely catch the words.
Han Ying is visibly relieved. He nods, and they stare at each other for a moment more before Zishu shifts back into his original position. With one partner settled, he turns his attention to Kexing. After a moment of giving Zishu his best puppy eyes and Zishu returning the gaze with his signature stern glare, Kexing gives in and sinks to his knees beside Han Ying.
“Lao Wen, I thought I told you not to touch the daylilies,” Zishu says as he empties his wine glass.
“Did you?” Kexing tilts his head innocently. “I don't quite recall.”
“Well, perhaps we can jolt your memory a little with your hairbrush-“
“Oh! I remember now! Yes, don’t touch the daylilies. But I didn't!”
Zishu levels him with the flattest stare he has ever seen. Considering the number of dry looks Zishu has aimed at him, that was a high bar.
“I really didn’t! I used a mortar and pestle. You said I could not touch it, not that I could not grind it.”
Scratch that. This stare was even flatter. “Then why were your hands smoking?”
“…Evaporation?”
Wow. Zishu must be aiming for some world record today. If he rolled his eyes anymore than this, it would get stuck at the back of his head. Zishu pours himself another cup of wine, drinks it, and pulls Kexing straight over his lap. Startled by the sudden movement, Kexing does not manage to resist before his face is suddenly very, very close to the floor. Zishu does not hit him, though. He just holds him there and addresses Han Ying.
“Ying'er.”
“Yes, Zhuangzhu?” Han Ying responds with his usual deference.
“When you saw Lao Wen in trouble, why did you not come and get me immediately?”
“… I am sorry, Zhuangzhu.”
“Do you not trust me to take care of you both when you need it?” Zishu questions calmly, as if he is asking about the weather.
Despite the bland tone, the words make Han Ying panic, and Kexing speaks up. “It was my fault, A-Xu, I coerced him.”
Zishu pinches him hard on the thigh, and Kexing yelps. “I am not asking you. I am asking Ying'er.”
“No! I trust you, Zhuangzhu. Ying'er is very sorry. And I was not coerced, I helped willingly,”
“Is Ying'er willing to be punished?”
“Yes, Zhuangzhu.”
“Come here.”
Han Ying obeys instantly, scooting over to Zishu’s side and kneeling. Zishu lifts Kexing’s hips, and shifts him such that his rear is now lying on Han Ying’s lap, and his chest on A-Xu’s. His hands brace the floor in front of him.
“A-Xu, what is this?” Kexing questions, confused by this new development.
“While not coming to get me immediately is on you, and I will see to that shortly, it is true that Lao Wen got you into trouble. So, you will warm him up for me,” A-Xu explains to Han Ying.
Both Kexing and Han Ying gasp at the same time.
“Zhuangzhu, please. I could not hurt my lord,” Han Ying pleads, at the same time Kexing utters an indignant “A-Xu!”
“Are you saying I hurt you when I warm you up?” Zishu retorts, ignoring Kexing completely. His tone is gentle despite the accusatory words.
“No! But … but that’s okay because it is you, Zhuangzhu. I-Ying'er…” Han Ying trails off, uncertain.
“It'll teach you not to fall for his schemes,” Zishu says.
Han Ying deflates. “It’s okay, Ying'er,” Kexing reassures, breaking out of his bratting for just a moment. “Listen to your Zhuangzhu.”
“If you are really uncomfortable, you can use your word, darling. I will never fault you for that,” Zishu says lowly to Han Ying.
There is a lull as Han Ying thinks about it. “I’ll try,” he eventually says.
“Good. Lift your palm, fingers together. Hit with the flat of your palm,” Zishu offers the praise with fondness, and the instructions in a calm, bored tone, like he is giving a lecture to the disciples.
Kexing is almost embarrassed to admit the effect that tone has on his body. Almost, because Wen Kexing is many things, and shameless is definitely one of them.
Han Ying obeys the instructions, hitting Kexing once over the curve of his left buttcheek. There was not enough strength in it for it to hurt at all, especially over his layers of clothing.
“Harder,” Zishu demands.
Han Ying tries again, but he is clearly still scared of hurting Kexing, because this one does not really hurt, either.
“I am going to take an implement to him later, Ying'er,” Zishu tells Han Ying, and Kexing whines immediately. “If you don’t warm him up properly, it will hurt him more.”
His devious little A-Xu. Of course what gets to Han Ying is the threat of either one of his lords suffering. Kexing is genuinely touched at how much Han Ying cares about them both. Impressed too, at A-Xu knowing exactly which buttons to push with the both of them. He would even consider singing some words of praise, when the following hit significantly increases in strength. Kexing begins to complain instantly.
“A-Xu! So mean to this poor one. Why are you assaulting me this way?”
“Keep going. Do not stop until I say so,” Zishu says, completely ignoring Kexing’s pitiful cries.
“Yes, Zhuangzhu.”
“Ying'er, this is a betrayal!” Kexing complains, casually ignoring the fact that he had reassured Han Ying not even five minutes ago. This is how their game goes, after all.
“I am sorry, my lord. Ying'er will seek correction from you accordingly after this.”
“You better!” Kexing squeals as the smacks continue, peppering all over his poor behind. Despite his demure manner with his lords, Han Ying is an ex-assassin, and he is strong.
At some point, Zishu pulls Kexing’s outer and inner robes up above his waist, leaving only the thin layer of trousers to fend off the assault from Han Ying’s palm. Kexing makes a lot of noise about this, but Zishu holds him firmly in place. There is safety here, in the warm grip of Zishu. He is much stronger now with the nails out and his body recovered, and Kexing delights in testing out that newfound strength. A part of him always thrills at seeing his A-Xu strong and healthy. It was not easy getting here, and Kexing will savour every moment.
The sting gradually builds, the warmth spreading, gaining traction and depth with each smack of Han Ying’s palm. Soon enough, Kexing is making constant, punched out noises as he writhes on Zishu’s and Han Ying’s laps. In his distant past now, there were times he took skin breaking whippings without a flinch or a single sound. He has endured unfathomable pain meant to break him. This is not that. This is safety, in his A-Xu’s hands; in Han Ying’s. He lays himself out in pieces in front of them, and knows in the surety of his bones that they will put him back together. He is not here to put on a facade of strength. He is here because he is loved, and being loud about it will not push his partners away. This is a lesson his A-Xu has painstakingly taught him. He had gone from a scared little boy to a monster of a man, and then mellowed out into something sweeter, but no less dangerous. A-Xu has loved every part of him. So he groans and writhes, whines and complains, and Zishu and Han Ying hold him snug the whole time. The emotion makes his eyes burn, though the tears do not yet fall.
When A-Xu seems satisfied with the warm up, he orders Han Ying to stop, and lifts Kexing back into his kneel. Once again, the easy manhandling of him does something to Kexing’s guts, lighting his insides on fire. He blinks, sure that his eyes are red rimmed, and Zishu smiles at him. It is a small one, but it lights up his A-Xu’s face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. It is wonderful and perfect and devastating. Kexing almost sobs at the sight of it.
“Good,” Zishu praises, though Kexing is unsure which one of them it is directed towards. probably both. “Ying'er, over my lap.”
Han Ying, obedient boy that he is, goes.
Zishu sweeps Han Ying’s robes aside and starts with firm, methodical swats over the seat of his trousers. When Han Ying does not relax into it, Zishu switches up the pattern, beginning to land swats unpredictably at different levels of strength.
“Don’t anticipate it, Ying'er. Give in to it, just let it come,” Zishu instructs, still in his placid instructor voice.
Slowly, Han Ying relaxes a little. His hand still twitches restlessly against the floorboards where they are placed beside his head. Kexing gives it a few moments, but when Han Ying does not settle, reaches out to take both his wrists in his grasp. He wrenches both of Han Ying’s hands behind his back, holding it there and forcing Han Ying to rest his cheek against the floor to balance. Almost immediately, Han Ying stills, his fidgeting giving way to surrender.
It is counterintuitive, certainly. For an ex-assassin that built a livelihood around being in absolute control - of information, of his body, his expression - to crave restraint this way. It means trust, safety. That Han Ying allows it of them, needs it of them, is because he believes that he is safe here with them. The trust Han Ying has for him and Zishu is unfathomable, sometimes. It does not mean Kexing delights in it any less.
“You’re doing well,” Zishu reassures softly.
The last of Han Ying’s tension visibly seeps out from him. Kexing holds Han Ying’s wrists tight, and Zishu continues to swat him randomly. The smack of skin on covered skin echoes in the otherwise silent room, and Kexing watches both of his partners with rapt attention. Zishu is regal as usual, back straight and commanding aura flooding the space around him. He looks stern, but the fondness in his eyes is unmistakable. He truly is the most gorgeous man Wen Kexing has ever had the privilege of setting his eyes on. Ying’er is silent and still over Zishu’s lap, as he tends to be in these situations. He is fully relaxed now, giving himself over to the care of Zishu and Kexing. Kexing used to want to prod at the silence, find holes in it the way Zishu found all his weaknesses. But Han Ying’s silence is not borne from the same root as Kexing’s. While Kexing’s is born of defiance and sheer willpower and pride, Han Ying’s is honed, like a blade, another skill in his arsenal. It takes effort to coax sounds from him, and Kexing has come to find that being able to reach that point brings him satisfaction too. It's usually words that do it for Han Ying. Zishu knows this too, because he starts to talk, even as his smacks do not falter.
“I expect you to trust me to take care of you both.”
“Yes, Zhuangzhu.”
“Are you going to fall for Lao Wen’s schemes again, Ying'er?”
A beat of silence. Then, “…probably, Zhuangzhu.”
Kexing barks out a laugh at that, taken off guard by the honesty. Zishu shoots him a sharp glare, but it is dampened by the upward twitch of his lips. Zishu tsks, and hits Han Ying hard on the curve of his ass. Han Ying does not flinch, but raises his head to shoot both Kexing and Zishu a sheepish smile. The stab of fondness through Kexing’s chest is vicious.
“I am sorry, Zhuangzhu. But my lord can be very … persuasive. Ying'er promises to seek correction when it happens!”
“That's a very long winded way of saying he gives you his best puppy eyes and you cave like a deck of cards,” Zishu says flatly.
“…Ying'er promises to seek correction,” Han Ying says again firmly. Kexing has to fight his laughter.
“Ying'er is not even done being corrected for today,” Zishu says as he guides Han Ying off his lap and directs him to kneel on the floor and bend over the bed. He tugs Han Ying’s trousers to mid-thigh and quirks an eyebrow at Kexing. “Neither is Lao Wen, for that matter.”
It takes some wrestling to get Kexing’s trousers off and him bent over the bed, because Kexing simply refuses to cooperate. Eventually, Kexing is put on his knees, trousers ripped off and thrown somewhere on the ground, his face pressed to the bed by Zishu’s hold on his neck. If the blatant display of strength makes Kexing a little hot under the collar, that was only for him to know.
“Between fighting me and instigating today’s little adventure, you are getting double of Ying'er’s strokes, darling.”
Kexing cries out indignantly, even as the pet name curls warm in his belly. “A-Xu, that’s not fair!”
Zishu presses Kexing more firmly into the bed, and Kexing goes boneless instinctively. He flushes red when he realises it, but Zishu has already caught the motion. “Fight me all you want, love. your body always tells me the truth.”
The pet name makes Kexing feel feral. It was not long ago that he deemed himself too far gone to be saved, and set himself up to burn with the rest of the Jianghu. Now, he is being cradled gently, lovingly, even as A-Xu is holding him down to discipline him. Discipline him, because he had endangered himself, and somehow Zishu thinks his life is worth enough that he should be corrected for it. The fondness his partners have for him scares him more than the previous valley master ever did. Being loved like that is deadlier than the threat of a knife pressed to his throat. It has hands wrapped firmly around his heart. A vicious squeeze, and it will fall straight to pieces. Yet, the love lies in the fact that they would never squeeze. They would place their hands right over his pulse point, and never press down. He feels unmoored, so he does what he always does. He tests the limits that A-Xu has laid out for him.
With a sharp jerk of his head, he aims directly for the wrist that is holding him down. Zishu must have seen it coming, because he reacts before Kexing can chomp down onto his wrist like a feral dog.
(He would have let him bite down, if the guilt of hurting him wouldn’t eat Kexing alive afterwards. Kexing tries not to think about it.)
With one hand still on his throat, Zishu’s other hand comes up to twist in his hair, pushing him back down to the bed. Zishu’s thighs press flush against his own, close enough that Kexing can feel the heat of his skin even through the layers of robes his A-Xu still wears. Then, a hand reaches for his own, tangles their fingers together. Kexing’s face is still pressed to the bed, turned towards the bed frame. However, given that both of Zishu’s hands were on his head, there was no doubt as to who had just reached out.
“My lord,” Ying'er says reverently as he presses a kiss to Kexing’s knuckles, “It’s okay. We are here.”
Zishu hums approvingly, gentling the grip on his hair and stroking smooth circles into his scalp instead. “Love,” he says pointedly as Kexing shudders, “Ying'er is right. We are here. We aren't going anywhere. Fight all you want. I am right here.”
Kexing bucks against the grip, but Zishu does not even falter. He holds him down, firm and steady. He is stuck here until Zishu allows him to move. The thought fills him with so much relief that Kexing can’t help but surrender. Kexing breathes in, out, then all his muscles relax at once as he goes boneless against the bed. He holds Han Ying’s hand tight.
“Okay?” Zishu asks after a moment, a check in.
Kexing nods against the bed.
“We can stop, if you want.”
Kexing lifts his head up at that, a mischievous glint re-entering his eyes. He sees Zishu’s eyes narrow in suspicion before the words even leave his mouth.
“So I don't have to get double? I am so fragile, after all. How can A-Xu be so mean to his Lao Wen?”
Zishu scoffs. “Keep this up and I'll triple it.”
“A-Xu! How can you do this?”
“Zhuangzhu, Ying'er is willing to take the extra-“
“Who is asking you?” Kexing and Zishu say at the same time, in almost perfect unison.
Han Ying gapes at the both of them, jaw snapping shut with an audible click. It lasts a second, then he opens his mouth again. He was getting bold, their boy.
“It wasn't my lord’s fault!” Han Ying exclaims, “If it is really so dangerous Zhuangzhu shouldn’t have left the daylilies out in an accessible area in the first place!”
The silence that settles in the room is deafening. Han Ying’s brain seems to catch up with his mouth, and Kexing watches the realisation settle on his face. Han Ying’s jaw snaps shut for the second time, then stays that way.
“You are saying it is my fault?” Zishu asks, and the temperature in the room seems to drop by a few degrees. The hand wrapped in Kexing’s hair shifts away, and Kexing sees Zishu grip Han Ying by the neck.
“…Um,” Han Ying replies eloquently.
Han Ying’s ass is toast. Kexing knows this from both experience, and the look on Zishu’s face. Their boy truly has gotten bold. Kexing wants to cheer. This is a side of Ying’er that comes out rarely, but it is always a treat to see.
“Guess I shall give you the same, sweetheart. What have you been teaching our Ying'er, Lao Wen?”
“He learnt from the best. Also, his logic seems sound to me. Perhaps Zhou Zhuangzhu ought to be more careful in the future?” Kexing replies in a sing-song voice, entirely too delighted by this turn of events.
“Hm. Perhaps I should,” Zishu moves away, but comes back before Kexing can mourn the loss of his touch for too long.
“But using my words hasn’t worked very well for me in getting through to my brats, so let’s try something else.”
Kexing barely registers the ominous words when he feels something thin, smooth and cool tap against his bottom. He hears Zishu repeat the action with Han Ying and feels the subtle twitch of his fingers where it is still tangled in Kexing’s. Zishu has picked up the ruler.
Oh no.
“It seems like I went too easy on the both of you. Zhou Zhuangzhu will indeed be more careful in the future,” Zishu remarks casually, and brings the ruler down sharply onto the curve of Kexing’s ass.
For a split second, there is nothing beyond the press of wood and sound of the hit. Then, the pain sets in, a sharp sting that leaves the afterimage of a throbbing burn. Kexing cries out at the feeling of it. There is a second crack of the ruler, and Kexing flinches before he registers that there is no pain this time. Beside him, still holding his hand tight, Han Ying gives no indication that he has been hit besides a small intake of breath.
The ruler swishes through the air again, and Kexing wails at the stinging impact of it. That hurt. His A-Xu really wasn’t playing around anymore. Kexing holds tight to Han Ying’s hand, and Han Ying returns the grip as the ruler comes down on his bottom during his turn. Zishu keeps going, firm and unrelenting, alternating between him and Han Ying. Kexing cries out when he is hit, flinches when Han Ying is. Han Ying remains stoic and unmoving, but he clasps Kexing’s hand like it is a lifeline. At some point, they turn their faces towards each other, allowing Kexing to see the minute changes in Han Ying’s expression as the ruler hits. His eyes crease more in pain when Kexing is hit than when he is hit himself. There is a flutter of Han Ying’s eyelashes, as if he cannot stand looking at Kexing getting hurt. Wen Kexing is once again overwhelmed with a surge of emotion he does not know what to do with, even as his ass is lit up by A-Xu’s steady application of the dreaded wooden ruler. The burn builds, until his entire ass feels lit up by a thousand tiny fires.
“A-Xu, my sweet A-Xu, please-“ Kexing pleads after a vicious hit to his sit spots.
“Are you going to disobey me again?” Zishu asks as he whips Han Ying in presumably the same place.
“No! Never!” Kexing promises, knowing even as the words leave his mouth that he is lying.
The next stroke is harder than the rest, landing on the meat of his ass and sending a sharp twinge of pain that reverberates through his entire body. Kexing jerks, instinctively grasping at Han Ying, digging his nails in. Subconsciously, he registers that he must be leaving marks and hurting Ying'er, but he does not move away.
“We both know that’s a lie, Lao Wen. Don’t make promises that you cannot keep,” Zishu remarks idly as he gives Han Ying his turn with the ruler.
“Let's start smaller. If I tell you not to touch something because it is dangerous, you don’t touch it. Understood?” Zishu reprimands.
Kexing buries his face in the blankets and mumbles something unintelligible. A-Xu does something with his wrist that sends the ruler flicking across his ass in a way that nicks his outer thigh. The resulting burn on previously untouched skin quickly changes Kexing’s mind on disobeying.
“Ah! A-Xu, I understand, please-“ Kexing cries as he lifts his head back up and regains eye contact with Han Ying.
Han Ying, who is still looking at him with the devoted loving puppy eyes of his. Kexing had gotten him into trouble, objectively. Yet here he was, still looking at Kexing as if he hung the moon and the stars.
“Ying'er,” Kexing breathes, and Han Ying smiles at him in response.
It is a barely there quirk of his lips, but it is devastating. Guilt wraps its hand around his heart as the consequences of his actions truly register. Getting into trouble is one thing. Getting Han Ying into trouble is a whole other ballpark. Anyone else would resent him. Ying’er is not, and will never be, anyone else.
“I'm sorry,” Kexing says, genuinely contrite now.
“It's okay, my lord. I chose to stay.” is Han Ying’s steadfast reply.
“And next time, you will come get me immediately,” Zishu demands. “We solve problems together. As a team. I care greatly about you both, and I do not want either of you getting hurt.”
Han Ying seems a little struck dumb at that declaration, so much so that he makes a small noise as the ruler cracks down this time. His hand twitches in Kexing’s, and Kexing feels the point of contact stretch between them like a taut string.
“Ten more each,” Zishu announces, and sets to his task.
Kexing groans deeply, writhing in place when he is struck. The last ten seems to stretch out forever, lines of fire spreading throughout his rear. It burns something fierce, not quite the sting of the switch but not quite the throb of his hairbrush. Han Ying keeps holding him, looking at him, and he feels himself sinking into a haze. The world narrows down to the pain, A-Xu wielding the ruler, and Han Ying’s warmth in his hands. Nothing else seems to matter. At the end of it, he is panting open mouthed into the blankets. There is a wet patch on the bed where he laid his cheek. He hadn’t even realised he had been crying.
He hears A-Xu drop the ruler onto the bed, and feels a warm hand tangle in his hair. A-Xu strokes his other hand through Ying’er’s hair.
“Good, both of you,” Zishu praises, his voice filled with warmth and affection.
“…Zhuangzhu?” Han Ying’s voice sounds uncertain enough that Kexing pries his eyes open from where he had squeezed them shut. “…Can I…I need…”
“More?” Zishu finishes, more a statement than a question.
“Please.” Han Ying whispers into the sheets, his ears flaming red.
Something like understanding flashes through Zishu’s eyes.
“Just a minute, sweetheart,” Zishu replies, and then both of his hands are on Kexing. He lifts Kexing onto the bed proper, prompting him to lie on his belly. The movement forces him to let go of Han Ying’s hand. Kexing turns on his side to curl towards where Han Ying is kneeling. This way, Kexing lies perpendicular to Han Ying, and he gets a full view. He reaches out to re-twine their hands together, and Han Ying grasps for it like a drowning man. Zishu presses a gentle kiss to Kexing’s forehead, murmuring praises and reassurance, and Kexing turns to him like a sunflower seeking the sun. Zishu turns to whisper something to Han Ying, but Kexing can't quite parse out the words. Han Ying nods, and Zishu gives him his own forehead kiss. Wonder blooms in Han Ying’s eyes.
By the time the elder pulls away, Kexing feels more present, but still lightly floating. He reaches out to pat Han Ying lightly on the cheek, and watches in fascination as his eyelashes flutter at the contact.
“Do you want me to keep going until you say stop, or do you want me to decide when you’ve had enough?” Zishu asks Ying'er as he picks the ruler back up, twirling it in his hands in an impressive show of dexterity.
It is a surprise to no one at all that Han Ying goes with the latter option. He has always taken in Zishu’s approval like it was the finest wine in the world. Kexing is too out of it to fully parse why Han Ying made his request for more, but it is of no matter. He is sure Zishu is fully aware, and they will tell him later when he asks anyway. So he allows himself to drift, watching the scene play out with half lidded eyes.
From this angle, he can see every flick of Zishu’s wrist, every twitch in Han Ying’s face. As expected of the former leader of Tianchuang, every strike lands true to where Zishu wants it to. He varies his angle, making sure the tip of the ruler does not curve over to unintended areas. Each hit is hard, unrelenting. There is a meaty thwack of the ruler each time it makes an impact on Han Ying’s unprotected skin, and though Kexing cannot see the state of Han Ying’s rear from this angle, he knows it must reddening rather quickly. Judging by the force and frequency of the strikes, it is likely that he will bruise. Ying'er, being Ying'er, takes it all with grace and stoicism, despite how badly it surely is hurting. He is truly something else. With how much Kexing’s ass already feels like a lit furnace from Zishu’s earlier ministrations, he cannot really fathom taking this many more strokes of the ruler.
As the strikes build up and layer upon each other, Han Ying begins to gasp at each hit. He tugs Kexing’s hand closer, and Kexing shifts enough to breach the distance between them. He runs his thumb soothingly along the ridge of Ying’er’s own, and uses his other hand to gently stroke through his hair. Zishu flicks his wrist, and Han Ying’s lips part at the pain. He keeps his eyes locked on Kexing, like just looking at him brings him comfort.
“I'm proud of you for asking for what you need. You are doing well, Ying’er” Zishu praises, voice soft and fond, and Han Ying crumbles like a deck of cards.
In finely wrought glass, the appearance of the single crack in the lattice causes the rest to fracture into a shower of a million tiny glass shards. Just like that, Han Ying gasps once, wetly, then the sobs wreck through his body seemingly uncontrollably. Zishu doesn’t let up, continuing to litter sharp impacts of pain all over Han Ying’s rear with the ruler.
“Good,” Zishu praises again, “Let it out, Ying'er.”
Han Ying cries, tears wetting the sheets beneath his cheek, hands scrambling for purchase against Kexing’s own. Kexing holds him, holds him, holds him. By the time Zishu stops, Kexing has almost curled entirely around Han Ying, with the younger’s head tucked flush against his belly. Zishu kneels next to Han Ying, and pulls him into an embrace. Still holding Kexing’s hand in his right hand, Han Ying wraps his left around Zishu like the man is a lifeline. In a way, he is.
“You did well, Ying'er. good boy,” Zishu mumbles into Han Ying’s hair, and the younger shudders bodily.
Zishu rubs at Han Ying’s back gently until his sobs even out into little sniffles, then lifts him onto the bed right next to Kexing. Zishu gestures for them to both lie on their bellies, and unscrews the ointment that Kexing is only now realising was lying conveniently on the bedside table, within reach. Zishu is gentle with it, warming the ointment with his hands before gently rubbing it into their sore skin. He gets them both some water, making sure both of them downs one bowl each before setting it back on the table. Satisfied, Kexing snuggles back into the sheets and watches Zishu sort everything back into place.
When Zishu is done, he climbs into bed between them. He kisses both of their foreheads in turn.
“My good boys,” Zishu mumbles, fondness emanating from every pore of him.
Kexing feels warmth curl in his belly at the praise.
“How did you know we were in the apothecary?” Kexing asks after a moment of cuddling.
“I knew you were going to disobey me the moment I said you couldn't, brat.”
“Does that mean you were just standing outside, watching us struggle?” Kexing pouts, imagining an amused Zhou Zishu watching the scene play out like a show.
“It was funny. Besides, there was never any real danger, or I would have stepped in.”
“Never any real danger?” Kexing says, confused. “But you said-”
“The fumes aren't actually toxic, just annoying to deal with,” Zishu smirks, very much looking like a cat who got the cream.
The realisation settles onto Kexing all at once. “Does that mean you set us up?!”
On Zishu’s other side, Han Ying gasps. “Is that why you asked me to fetch incense from the apothecary?”
“A-Xu, you devious-”
Zishu cuts him off with a kiss, then turns around to kiss Han Ying too. It is enough to stun the youngest speechless. Wonder blooms on his face, the way it always does when Zishu kisses him.
“I did not set you up. I simply told you you could not do something. It is not my fault you obey orders about as well as a feral puppy does.”
Kexing gapes at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He thought he was being so sneaky, going into the apothecary. Maybe he should have considered his choice of partner more carefully before falling for a mastermind of a man. He makes eye contact with Han Ying, who looks as flabbergasted as he feels. They did not see this coming at all.
“Also, I wasn’t lying. The daylilies are dangerous if handled incorrectly. But there’s two batches of them in the apothecary, one I’ve processed and one I haven’t. You just happened to grab the ones I already detoxified.”
“So I could have made you more Drunk Like A Dream,” Kexing concludes.
“Technically.”
Kexing narrows his eyes at him, assessing. He is not bothered by the reveal of A-Xu setting him up, exactly. He is just shocked that A-Xu has managed to one up him. He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, at this point of their relationship, but the intricacies of Zishu’s mind always puts him in awe. He knows why Zishu did it though, is the point. It is much safer for them this way, with Zishu helming the scene. Kexing still winces sometimes at the memory of his last serious infraction. All the more, he should have seen this coming. He is going to one up Zhou Zishu … next time.
“So I was right then, that this is Zhuangzhu’s fault,” Han Ying accuses. “You hit me extra when I was right!”
There is a little pout on his face that is absolutely adorable to see. He knows that Ying’er is not actually upset, but Kexing loves to see him complain like this, rare as it is. Not that Han Ying is capable of being genuinely upset at Zhou Zishu anyway.
“And then you asked me for extra on top of the extra,” Zishu supplies, and the pout on Han Ying’s face delightfully deepens.
“Could have just done the spanking without all this set-up,” Kexing grumbles, and knows it is a mistake the moment the words slip out.
“Are you giving me blanket permission?” Zishu asks, and somehow makes it sound like a threat.
“No!” Kexing protests immediately, “Please work on your reading comprehension skills.”
“There is no reading here,” Han Ying pipes up helpfully.
Kexing glares at him in mock outrage. “Whose side are you on?”
Zishu laughs then, bright and cheerful. Kexing’s attention is immediately drawn to the ways his eyes crease at the corners when his A-Xu laughs genuinely. He gets this sparkle in his eye, and his whole face lights up. They settle back into comfortable silence for a while, and Zishu gently runs his hands through both Kexing’s and Han Ying’s unbound hair.
“Why suddenly today?” Han Ying asks after a moment.
“You’ve both been stressed,” Zishu says, “You are also both terrible at asking for the things you need, in case you haven't noticed. I simply threw out a bait, to make it easier.”
Oh. Kexing hadn’t even really noticed, to be honest. His stress response typically involves running himself ragged trying to do things better, or picking a fight with an unlucky ghost that sparks his ire. The latter is no longer an option now, given the circumstances, so his body has automatically defaulted to the former. He did not process the tension in his body until it was gone. It is easy to notice how much more relaxed he feels, now that Zishu has pointed it out. It is not hard to then figure out why he feels so much better. Being taken in hand by Zishu has always been liberating. A-Xu really does know him like the back of his hand. Loath as Kexing is to admit it, he really did need…whatever today was.
Across from him, on Zishu’s other side, he watches a similar realisation dawn in Han Ying’s eyes. With the manor being set up to take on new disciples again, Han Ying’s plate has been full. Between overseeing training, expanding their information networks, facilitating the settlement of the newcomers, and finishing up on demolishing Tianchuang, Han Ying is pretty much busy all day. Kexing had noticed it, and was intending to bring it up as an issue soon if circumstances did not change. Guess Zishu has beaten him to the chase.
“Ying’er, if your workload is too heavy, we can reassign some portions of it,” Zishu offers.
“No!” Han Ying protests immediately, and Zishu raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really, Zhuangzhu. I am happy doing all the things I am doing now, and I really am managing. I guess I just needed…”
“To be taken over my knee?” Zishu says.
Han Ying flushes a bright red. “Zhuangzhu! You can’t just…”
“If it is something you need on a more regular basis, we can arrange for it,” Zishu says.
Han Ying looks like he very much wants to accept that offer, but he sneaks a tentative glance at Kexing. Zishu catches it, because of course he does.
“Lao Wen can either be spanking or spanked. Depends on how he chooses to behave on a particular day.” A-Xu says, and Kexing feels himself flush as red as Han Ying.
“A-Xu!” Kexing wails, loud and pitiful.
Instead of taking pity on him, A-Xu turns towards him, and there is so much fondness in his eyes that Kexing forgets what he was complaining about almost immediately. Zishu leans in again, and Kexing savours the kiss for as long as it lasts. Which is to say, not long enough. Kexing whines at the loss, and Zishu has the audacity to laugh at him!
In retaliation, Kexing rolls over Zishu, shoving him to the outer edge of the bed, and climbs on top of Han Ying. He brackets Ying’er’s face with his arms, and leans down to capture his mouth with his own. Han Ying moans into the kiss, and yields to him easily. Kexing licks deeper into his mouth, relishing in the way Ying’er cedes control. By the time he looks up to gauge Zishu’s reaction, both of them are a little breathless.
The rest of his breath is stolen from his lungs by the look on Zishu’s face. He looks hungry, like he is ready to devour them whole. Kexing grins, all too pleased by this turn of events.
By the time Zishu is satisfied, Kexing feels like he has been kissed senseless and ravaged by a beast. Han Ying looks to be in no better condition.
“Sleep,” Zishu commands as he rolls all of them back into their initial positions.
Kexing watches Han Ying’s eyelashes flutter shut, his contentment palpable in the air. It is not long before his breathing evens out. Drained as he is (loved as he is), Wen Kexing follows him into dreamland.