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Chapter Text

Geshu Lin, King of Beasts, the White Tiger of Heishan, had known this day was coming, standing on the edge of a cliff, his back to the crashing waves below. The Clans are ruled by strength, and he couldn’t hide it forever—the ailment afflicting his Resonant abilities, weakening and destabilizing his powers.

The metallic taste of blood wells in his mouth with every breath, thick sanguine streaming from ghastly wounds; yet the white tiger’s tail sways unconcernedly, still standing tall with a sovereign’s pride. “Hongmin, ah, Hongmin, this is why I would never allow you to rule our clans. Ben zuo’s Forte has deteriorated to this extent yet you still don’t dare to face me yourself. I thought you at least had the dignity to confront a cripple in a formal challenge, but I see that I gave you too much credit,” Geshu Lin scorns. “A cravenly coward will never change.”

The wolf-kin being addressed remains calm, shielded behind a wall of his men.

Coward? This so-called cripple had just slain a hundred of his followers. The trail to the cliff had been paved with corpses, a bloody massacre leading to the pile of mangled bodies at Geshu Lin’s feet. Even those guarding Hongmin at the back remain tense, reeking with the sour stench of fear.

“Say what you want, Your Majesty. The age of the tiger has passed. The end of this day will see the dawn of the reign of wolves; I will be the King of Beasts, and you, consigned to eternal rest in the depths of the Abyss.” 

Geshu Lin’s wild laughter should be the admittance of his doom, but no victorious smiles are seen, the sound only serving to send a shudder of ice-cold fear down the gathered beasts’ spines. Diminished as he is, the tiger king’s tyrannical killing intent blankets the cliff in a sepulchral pall, an oppression so dense that it suffocates their breaths, a viciousness so sharp they feel its cutting edge at their throats.

“You want to give me a sea burial? Come then,” Geshu Lin spreads his arms wide in welcome. “Let’s see if you can afford the offerings to send ben zuo over the Naihe bridge.” Beastly golden eyes are lit with fiendish light, reflecting the violet flames that still whip and crackle around them. The reaper’s gaze sweeps unhurriedly over the mob of betrayers. “How many are in attendance? One… two hundred?” He lets out a dark chuckle. “Good; a good number. It’s too unbecoming for this sovereign to go alone without a proper procession; I’ll have you all accompany me into hell.” Fangs bared, the tiger roars. A sea of flames engulfs the cliffside, screams piercing the air as an unstoppable inferno whips through the hoard. The beasts flee for their lives but there is no retreat, the runners’ heads torn from their shoulders by their own master.

“Any who dare turn tail will pay with their lives and the lives of their families!” Hongmin roars. “Attack!”

Weapon long lost, Geshu Lin rends the unending waves of enemies that throw themselves at him with his bare hands, claws dripping with gore and Forte activating erratically. His hateful gaze is fixed on Hongmin the entire time, the rest barely meriting a glance even as he rips them apart.

This grudge between them, as deep as the sea; he wants that traitor’s head if it’s the last thing he does. Geshu Lin’s muscles bunch, coiled to pounce.

Despite the impossible distance to cross between them, Hongmin takes an involuntary step back. He’s embittered by the terror this dying tiger still engenders in him, but some things are not easily forgotten, the scar lying over his heart throbbing with phantom pain.

But he needn’t have worried. Before Geshu Lin can lunge at him, the outcropping where the tiger stands crumbles out from beneath, unable to withstand the battle of raging Fortes.

No—he isn’t done yet. This paltry reprisal is too cheap a price to pay for this Sovereign’s life.

Geshu Lin’s decayed power is running on empty, barely a flicker of frequency left in his body, but he draws up a final conflagration through pure spite, a rampage of dark flames that roasts his enemies alive. Myriad Fortes flare out in a colorful spectacle as the rebels frantically try to fight off the flames.

Their desperate efforts only serve to help fulfill Geshu Lin’s vow. The insurgents have done well in selecting such a fine location to lay the monstrous Beast King to rest—but this advantage can be utilized by him as well. His foes have chosen their own burial; a feat worthy of praise.

Fusion is the power of ignition. A volatile cocktail of potent resonant powers in play, and a primed target for him to strike: detonating a disaster is more than achievable. The resulting explosion fractures the earth, fissures splintering out from the tiger’s last stand; a mass execution heralded by the booming crack of stone. A mile of cliffside comes crashing down, its percussive thunder a requiem for the monarch’s final descent.

The King of Beasts always keeps his promises: he brings near two hundred lives down with him into his watery grave.

**

Geshu Lin wakes to hands on his body, the sense of a figure crouched over him.

He’s already moving even as details of his surroundings trickle in—the sound of waves lapping against the shore, the cold weight of his sodden clothes, the grainy rasp of sand against skin. Lashing out, he seizes the offender by the throat, claws pricking their jugular in a deadly threat.

“Who dares lay hand on ben zuo,” Geshu Lin snarls, ears pinned back into his hair. He barely gets a word out and the person has already reacted with commendable swiftness, unimpeded by the surge of Geshu Lin’s murderous intent. In an instant, a blade of wind is at his neck, drawn so fast he doesn’t see it form.

Compassionate golden eyes gaze down on him from a pretty face, a banner of teal hair draped over the man’s shoulder. But what snares Geshu Lin’s attention are the two majestic horns rising from the man’s crown, not molded of common bone as those of a hooved beast but gleaming crystalline. The ethereal quality of those features, the elfin ears and regally resplendent scent he has only encountered once in his life—a dragon.

There are no dragons on the continent. Where the hell did he wash up? His pulse pounds at his temples, his head stuffed full of cotton wool. The sense of disorientation is not helped by the dragon’s bewitching scent: the clean fragrance of green tea, a faint aroma of incense, and a deeper essence of musk, heady but subtle with a honeylike warmth that makes his teeth ache.

His failing body strained by these meager actions, Geshu Lin coughs up a mouthful of blood, his killing intent ebbing against his will. He turns his head just enough that he doesn’t choke on his own blood, vigilant gaze fixed on the dragon as sanguine crimson spills down his chin.

The dragon’s brow creases. “Please be at ease. I mean you no harm.” He uses the sleeve of his free hand to carefully wipe Geshu Lin’s mouth clean, even as his spear remains leveled at his throat.

“My name is Jiyan, a combat medic of the Midnight Rangers. Would you be so kind as to withdraw your hand? Your wounds are severe: it’s imperative that I stop the bleeding at once,” the dragon explains. His voice is hoarsened by the pressure of Geshu Lin’s grip, yet his tone remains gentle.

He’s an odd creature of contradictions, but Geshu Lin can feel the truth of the dragon’s statement. Enfeebled from blood loss, he is weaker than he has ever been. His arm trembles from the simple task of staying raised, from keeping his claws from mistakenly taking a life; transgressions must be punished, and goodwill returned. He will determine which the dragon intends before the lure of respite drags his consciousness under. Blaring pain registers from every part of his body, a good enough focus to utilize in countering oblivion’s tow.

He draws in a breath scenting his surroundings. The sharpness of antiseptic stings his nose, a medical kit lying open at the side.

“If you really intend no harm, then you can continue without my doing so,” Geshu Lin says coldly.

“If xiansheng insists on being hostile, then I can only leave you to your fate,” the dragon returns, calm but firm.

Not a complete idiot then.

Geshu Lin releases the dragon, arm dropping like deadweight. The lance of wind is promptly dispelled, the dragon—Jiyan he said his name was, moving quickly to take a bottle from his case.

“This is styptic powder—a cauterizing agent to stop the bleeding,” Jiyan narrates. “The application will be painful but please bear with it. I’m sorry,” he adds, “it’s too dangerous to give you anesthetics when your condition is unstable.”

“Inconsequential,” Geshu Lin rasps.

The white powder sears like fire poured into his wounds, his pain rising to another level. He breathes it in, breathes out his awareness of it, and accepts the new baseline. He’s fought through worse.

As Jiyan examines his most severe injury, an acrid scent rises that makes his nose wrinkle.

“The… lacerations to your abdomen are too deep; they need to be sutured.”

“Internal injury.” Multiple organs or he wouldn’t be like this. He doesn’t need the sugarcoating. “Proceed.”

Jiyan’s eyes widen, whether at his self-diagnosis or indifference he doesn’t know, but he says no more before beginning. His motions are brisk and sure; changing his gloves, sterilizing the area. “I hoped you would be unconscious for this,” he says quietly.

“I don’t.”

Jiyan lets out a quiet sigh.

“Talk to me,” Geshu Lin says, trying to center his straying mind.

Jiyan’s gaze doesn’t lift from his work. “It’s best you don’t. Hold your breath for ten seconds.”

He counts to ten, and breathes out, blinking away the blur in his vision. “Where am I?”

“…This is the Misty Coast, within the jurisdiction of Jinzhou city-state.”

Jinzhou, the land of dragons in the Huanglong continent across the ocean? How the hell was he carried this far by the waves?

“May I ask this gentleman’s name?” Jiyan inquires.

You may not, Geshu Lin thinks, cantankerous on learning he’s a world away from home—and from the unwanted consideration; Jiyan deigning to talk to him because he’s doing something that makes Geshu Lin’s soul want to vacate his body.

“You shouldn’t still be conscious,” Jiyan says, sounding upset. The hands working on him are unaffected, constant and ever steady.

A doctor more distressed than his patient; there’s some morbid humor in that. Looking at the restrained misery on Jiyan’s face, Geshu Lin doesn’t feel like laughing.

“Do what you can.” It’s as close to a consolation as he ever gives. “Geshu Lin,” he provides. Disclosing his name isn’t a problem. Outside the beast clans, few have heard his true name, even those on the continent only knowing him as the Beast King. As for why, his thoughts are too disordered to identify the reason, but he feels that Jiyan deserves a reward.

“Geshu Lin,” Jiyan repeats softly. His lashes are very long. “Thank you.”

Geshu Lin blinks, and Jiyan is bandaging his abdomen. The pain is a degree more tolerable and the tension at the dragon’s temples has relaxed; he must have been successful in treating the injury.

Seeing Geshu Lin awake gives Jiyan pause. After a moment, he strips off his soiled gloves and pulls a recognizable apothecary bottle from his bag. “Take a nutrient block for now. I can administer a dose of healing elixir later; its effectiveness will be greatly diminished if I don’t close your wounds first.” He takes out one of the medicinal sugar cubes to give to Geshu Lin.

Geshu Lin seals his lips tight in refusal.

“Ah,” Jiyan says. He shakes the bottle, takes a random cube out, and pops it into his mouth, wincing as he crunches through it—they’re supposed to be slowly dissolved on the tongue. Swallowing, he selects another cube and brings it to Geshu Lin’s lips.

Geshu Lin takes the medicine from Jiyan’s fingers.

He makes a face. “Cherry,” he complains.

Jiyan lets out a shocked laugh. His lips part in disbelief when Geshu Lin pushes the cube to the front of his mouth with his tongue, gingerly holding the revolting cube between his teeth. His limbs aren’t responding to him at present and he’s not so ungrateful that he’d spit out the medicine Jiyan gave him.

“…What flavor do you want?” Jiyan takes the cube, tossing it in the rubbish bag.

“Peach and lemon. You need to double the dosage. Not just this, any medication.”

“I’ve treated beastkin before. They’ve needed at most 1.56 times the dose of the equivalent weight dragonkin,” Jiyan says doubtfully. “Increasing the dosage for nutrient blocks is fine since the overdose threshold is high, but the same can’t be said for other medications.”

He really is a physician. Not that Geshu Lin had any doubts left after Jiyan sewed up his abdomen. It was a considerable task; Geshu Lin had been gutted like a fish.

“I’m not the average beastkin,” he drawls.

Jiyan opens his mouth to argue. Closes it. “Yes. You shouldn’t be coherent right now. You shouldn’t be conscious.”

“Hm,” Geshu Lin says. Good that he knows.

Peach-lemon is a tasty combination. If the whole of his being is in a state of suffering at least one of his senses can have something pleasant.

Jiyan moves on to work on his critical injuries, cataloging them as he goes. “You must have been in a fierce battle.” There’s a question in his voice.

Geshu Lin has no reason to respond so he doesn’t. As he works, Jiyan’s scent becomes noticeable again, changing disagreeably as he worries his pretty head over something. At this proximity, he can’t not smell it. The scent still isn’t foul, but Geshu Lin makes a sound of displeasure.

Jiyan goes stock still. “What’s wrong?”

Why is he so alarmed?

“—Does it hurt too much? Is there something I should avoid—”

Oh. “No, you’re fine. You’re just agonizing over something so loudly that it’s giving me a headache. Whatever it is, spit it out.”

“…”

“Keep it concise. I’m not going to answer all your questions.”

“It can wait until you’re better.”

“Why are you being difficult? I already know you can work and talk at the same time. Annoying.”

…He hadn’t meant to say the last part aloud. The offended expression on Jiyan’s face is pretty funny though.

Jiyan finishes his needlework, knotting and cutting the thread.

“You bear signs of injuries from every element and multiple beastkin species. And… to have left you near death, you must have encountered a substantial force—”

When Jiyan wants something, he can flatter it seems. He’s not very good at it though.

“—If there is a threat to Jinzhou’s people, it’s imperative that we bring it to the attention of the Midnight Rangers who guard these lands. However, if you do not wish to divulge the information, I will not insist.”

Minus points for not pressing the advantage, even retreating a step. That’s just the kind of person Jiyan is though—assuming he is sincere, which Geshu Lin is beginning to suspect he is. This entire time those long-fingered hands, scarred but beautiful have been constantly moving—to heal, to succor. Geshu Lin has nothing but contempt for naïve kindness, but he can appreciate the dragon’s vigilant grace.

“The ones who did this—they’re gone. They won’t be a problem for your people.”

Jiyan pauses to meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

Geshu Lin inclines his head and closes his eyes.

**

His consciousness is slow to rise, impressions drifting in. The bitter astringence of bittberry on his tongue, the fragrance of silver lotus… He feels… remarkably improved. This taste, the distinctive profile of highest-grade elixir, that would explain it. The dragon, Jiyan, must have given it to him.

…That doesn’t make sense, he realizes as clarity returns. What kind of medic carries a priceless healing elixir on him? And what is that bizarre jouncing sensation?

“What the fuck,” he mumbles groggily, waking to find himself on a cantering horse. A sturdy chest supports his back, an arm looped around his waist to keep him steady. He pulls the reflex to attack the person in too-close proximity, recognizing the scent of tea-incense-fucking-intoxicating that envelops him.

There are more important things he should focus on but—how the hell is he on a horse? Out of self-preservation, even the staunchest warhorses flee the presence of the common beastkin, much less the Beast King himself.

“You’re awake?” Jiyan hurriedly calls the mare to a stop. “How do you feel?”

Bewildered, Geshu Lin ignores the question. “What’s wrong with your horse?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Jiyan says after a puzzled moment.

The beautiful white horse whinnies in protest.

Jiyan hushes the horse, reaching around Geshu Lin to pet the snowy mane. “You should be kinder to Xuehua. She’s been doing her best to hold a smooth pace so as not to aggravate your wounds.”

Jiyan seems to think his horse is normal. This is not normal. Geshu Lin eyes the horse, feeling disturbed.

“You can’t be too badly off if you’re asking arbitrary questions. I’ll find a place to rest. I need to check your vital signs and make sure your wounds haven’t opened.”

Geshu Lin grunts as the horse begins moving again. “What’s our destination?”

“I’m taking you to Jinzhou city. Your injuries are too severe, they need to be evaluated at a hospital, and there is a worrying disturbance in your frequencies that I don’t have the capacity to diagnose.”

Geshu Lin can feel it, the discordance of his Forte a physical sensation, like having his veins scraped raw. It hadn’t been this bad before, but he had also been tempering the use of his Forte then. Not expecting to survive, he had gone all-out in that last fight. Overexerting his unstable frequencies had very thoroughly fucked them up. He’s not enthused about being examined by strangers in a foreign land, but he needs it fixed sooner rather than later.

Jiyan halts Xuehua beneath a large oak. Smoothly dismounting, he reaches back up for Geshu Lin, arms sliding around him—

A suppressed roar echoes through the glade. Paws scrabble against the ground as small animals flee, branches rustling violently as birds take to the air.

Xuehua shifts nervously, looking to her master for direction, but Jiyan is transfixed by his armful of furious tiger, tail lashing and claws unsheathed. His throat bobs.

“Get your hands off me,” Geshu Lin hisses. “I can do it myself.”

Jiyan takes a steadying breath. “Geshu Lin-xiansheng, a few hours ago you were halfway over the Naihe bridge; I barely managed to wrest your life back. You are in no condition to be moving around.” Please be reasonable.

Geshu Lin does know, but he is not willing. A deep growl rumbles in the tiger’s chest, a deep breath pulled into his lungs.

—What is that? Jiyan’s scent has been shifting, thickening, but it doesn’t have the spice of fear. Something full-bodied with a stirring aroma.

It’s—Jiyan is—

Seeing Geshu Lin’s distraction, Jiyan has swiftly taken action, already setting Geshu Lin at the base of a tree.

“I’m sorry if my actions were unpleasant,” Jiyan says softly, quickly removing his hands.

His expression is slightly downcast, bringing out the droop at the corners of his eyes—fatigue from toiling to save his life, and Geshu Lin’s ire slips away.

“Please allow me to examine you,” Jiyan asks earnestly. “I’m worried your condition is still unstable. I’ll make it quick—”

“Stop talking nonsense.” Jiyan has the wrong idea. If he keeps going down that line of thought, treating Geshu Lin with kid gloves, he’s really going to lose his temper. “You’re fine. Just do it.”

“…Alright.”

Seating himself at Geshu Lin’s side, Jiyan takes his wrist.

Jiyan blinks. His gaze flicks up to Geshu Lin, then down to his fingers.

Geshu Lin watches with amusement as Jiyan lets go, rubs his fingers together, and then takes his pulse again. It’ll be a bit longer before he admits Geshu Lin was right. Idly, he admires the sunlight sparkling over the dragon’s jewel like horns, the glimmer of iridescent scales on the long, graceful tail trailing out onto the grass. It’s now that he notices why the dragon’s scent is so maddening—Jiyan has wrapped that emerald hanfu of his around Geshu Lin to cover the barely-there tatters of his clothes, swathing him in his scent.

Hm. Well, he’ll allow it since it’s comfortable.

“You’re… much better?”

“As I said.”

“You’ve completely stabilized. In such a short time…”

“You gave me a high-grade elixir.” He supposes credit should be given where it is due. “And you did a good job.”

The draconic tail makes a small, aborted movement. Jiyan lowers his head. “Even so, this isn’t possible,” he mutters, taking Geshu Lin’s pulse again. The findings are invariable. Forehead wrinkled, his scrutiny moves to Geshu Lin’s body, looking him up and down.

Geshu Lin’s brows lift. Lips curling, he lets his posture go languid, drawing one leg up and sprawling back suggestively. The movement is agonizing, but shaking up Jiyan’s composed poise is too great a temptation to resist.

Abruptly realizing that he’s been staring impolitely, ogling Geshu Lin really, a light flush is already climbing the back of Jiyan’s neck when Geshu Lin purrs, “My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

“No—I just—I wanted to check your wounds—” Jiyan’s mouth clicks closed, jerking to his feet. He moves away, going to fiddle with the horse’s saddlebags.

He knows Jiyan had no improper intentions, but this is much more entertaining. The dragon’s ears are red, his tail flicking restlessly.

Finding what he’s looking for, Jiyan asks, still turned away, “Are you thirsty?”

Naturally, Geshu Lin replies, “Aren’t you the one that’s thirsty?”

His smirk is pure evil.

Jiyan makes a small, horrified sound and thumps his forehead on the horse’s saddle. Xuehua turns her head to look at her master, neighing worriedly.

As Jiyan reassures his horse, Geshu Lin realizes that he is, in fact, parched. The ocean of salt water he guzzled had dehydrated him. He clears his throat. “Give the water here.”

Jiyan gives him an angry-embarrassed glare, his lips pursed. It’s inordinately charming when a stoic individual is flustered, Geshu Lin muses.

Despite his discontent, Jiyan still remembers to take two large gulps from the water gourd before tossing it to Geshu Lin.

The cool drink is a balm on Geshu Lin’s throat. He greedily chugs down the bottle.

Much better. Capping the gourd, he sets it down. “Didn’t you need to check my injuries?”

Jiyan’s tail drags with reluctance as he shuffles back over, avoiding eye contact. He settles back down, mumbling a polite “Excuse me” as he reaches for the robes covering Geshu Lin. Moving the cloth aside, he works on the bandages at his abdomen. Examining under the gauze, Jiyan’s hands slow. “You must still be in a lot of pain.”

Geshu Lin closes his eyes. “Tolerable.”

“I would offer pain medication now that you’re stable, but I expect you’ll refuse.”

“Correct.” Pain medications have sedative effects. This is an acceptable level of pain.

Jiyan sighs. He is silent as he changes the bandages and inspects the remaining injuries. After tying off the last bandage and packing his medical bag up, he sits there, expression troubled as he debates something with himself.

“Whatever it is, just say it.”

Jiyan’s tail curves around himself. He wets his lips. “I withheld some information from you as your health was in a critical state and I did not have the time to explain,” he starts delicately. “My identity is somewhat complicated.”

Geshu Lin’s eyes narrow. “Uncomplicate it.”

Jiyan’s posture straightens with formality. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Jiyan, Prince of Jinzhou and General of the Midnight Rangers.” He touches two fingers to his opposite shoulder in the traditional greeting of his people. “I didn’t lie to you,” he adds, “I formerly performed the duties of a combat medic but had to relinquish the role due to other responsibilities.”

Jiyan is the Dragon Prince? Jinzhou’s General?

Geshu Lin’s lips twist into a sarcastic smile. “You’re a man of many talents.” He studies the dragon in front of him. The tailored combat gear is well made but nothing out of the ordinary. The only item befitting a member of the royal family is the jade broadsword hanging at Jiyan’s waist, strapped at the small of his back. Perhaps the silken robe draped over Geshu Lin as well, the embroidery he runs his fingers over may be of real gold thread. “You were going to bring me into the city using your status?” The fortified walls of Jinzhou would be meaningless if they let just anyone through their gates.

“Emergency transport to the hospital is permitted for medical emergencies.”

“My condition is no longer critical.”

“Yes. As such, you must obtain clearance from border control at the city gates. Geshu Lin-xiansheng said you don’t recall what happened. Do you remember where you are from, or do you have anything to serve as proof of identity?”

This prince is still calling him xiansheng? “When someone of status is overly polite, it just feels like they’re fucking with you,” Geshu Lin informs him.

The dragon’s tail twitches. “In that case, I’ll endeavor to be more rude for your sake,” Jiyan says dryly.

Hah. So the stiff prince has a sense of humor.

“My memories are unclear.” The problem with falsifying an identity is that it tends to snowball, more and more falsehoods needed to maintain the fabrication. Geshu Lin is too lazy to bother keeping such details straight. The position of Jinzhou’s general or prince—either alone is enough for Jiyan to bring whomever he wants into the city. He wonders how far the prince’s benevolence will go. “As for proof, I don’t have anything other than what’s on me right now.”

Jiyan nods as if they aren’t both aware that Geshu Lin is lying through his teeth. “If you don’t have someplace to stay, please allow me to extend you Jinzhou’s hospitality. I can vouch for you as your guarantor. However, as someone of unverified identity, your activities would be monitored while you are within the country.”  

The offer stands in contradiction to Jiyan’s professed concern for Jinzhou’s safety and his role as the city’s protector. Taking these into account, neither pity nor kindness seem sufficient excuses.

“And what can I do to repay your generosity, Your Highness?”

“Just Jiyan is fine. You would be my guest and a patient besides. Nothing will be asked of you.”

Feline ears twitch with irritation. Jiyan has been straightforward with him until now. This obfuscation is not appreciated. “Do you make this offer to every stray you pick up?”

The dragon’s scent does something odd… nervousness?

“No.”

No further explanation is forthcoming.

Hongmin has likely announced to their peoples that Geshu Lin had died in battle and claimed the title of the Beast King for himself. Having been Geshu Lin’s second-in-command, he has arguable legitimacy as the next-in-line. Under the circumstances, Geshu Lin is in no rush to return to Heishan. At loose ends while his body and powers recover, he may as well live comfortably in the city while he is at it.

In the event that his evaluation of Jiyan is wrong, and the prince turns out to be scheming, it won’t be too late to correct the situation then.

“I’ll take you up on that offer then, Jiyan,” Geshu Lin drawls, tail swishing lazily. “Many thanks.”

**

With the prince himself as Geshu Lin’s guarantor, everything proceeds smoothly from his registration as a visitor at the gate office to his medical examinations at Huaxu Academy’s hospital. The only hindrance is Geshu Lin himself, who refuses to be gallantly carried everywhere by the damn dragon and is doubly incensed when Jiyan suggests a wheelchair.

“Then how does xiansheng plan to reach the medical ward?”

Jiyan’s tone is so charmingly polite that it must be passive-aggression. Tsk. “Drop the xiansheng if you’re just going to give me backtalk. Help me down, I can walk.”

Jiyan mutters darkly under his breath but does as bid. He doesn’t complain about the slow progress to their destination, even though he is essentially carrying the tiger’s full weight with Geshu Lin’s arm slung over his shoulder and an arm encircling his waist.

The physician that examines Geshu Lin performs a healing, bringing the pain down to what can be considered a background level. However, due to the severity of his injuries, several more days will still be required for recovery. The physician instructs him to remain on bedrest and prescribes salve and antibiotics.

His Forte examination, presented by a specialist in the field of acoustic medicine, is slightly more interesting.

“Your spectrum analysis demonstrates intense frequency fluctuations indicating high instability. Preliminary tests suggest this is the result of some kind of neurotoxin in combination with cystatins. Further laboratory analysis must be performed to identify the toxic substances contaminating your blood. For now, I will prescribe a medication for frequency stabilization and a tonic to promote resonance recovery.”

The analysis coincides with the history Geshu Lin had declined to provide. His Forte instability had begun after an encounter with a bizarre Tacet Discord, some mutated insectoid bearing an amalgamation of characteristics. Of those, he had recognized the tail of a scorpion. The beast is slain, its venom samples an ocean away, though it seems enough remains in his blood for diagnosis.

“Until we stabilize your frequency, you must not use your Forte,” the specialist emphasizes. “With the extreme anomalies in your resonance the external effect on your surroundings and the internal effect on yourself are unpredictable. These readings… you could end up with permanent damage or instantly precipitate a fatal Overclock. I know your Fortes are an indispensable part of your lives to Resonators, but this is no joking matter–”

Geshu Lin tunes out the rest of the lecture, having already understood the extraordinarily depressing point. He knows she’s telling the truth; he had already experienced some of what she described and vaguely sensed the potential of dire consequences in that final fight.

“As soon as we have the antidote, I will contact you at…” the physician’s expression turns uncertain at the listed address on the form, gaze darting to the prince, “the palace?”

“Patient Geshu Lin is my guest,” Jiyan confirms. “About the Forte spectrum analysis—” The topic is smoothly transitioned, Jiyan drawing the physician into a medical discussion.

The physician lets Geshu Lin take the records from her hand, still caught up in the technical talk. Flipping through the pages, he commits them to memory to review later.

**

When they ride out, Geshu Lin is seated in front of Jiyan again. Suffering the indignity is offset by his amusement at Jiyan—who is more embarrassed at the attention they draw than Geshu Lin. They get many wide-eyed looks, which seem to be primarily because of the prince’s robe draped over a handsome stranger and to a lesser extent because of the rarity of beast kin within the city—almost entirely populated by dragonkind.

“You’re keeping me in your palace?” Geshu Lin asks mildly as they pass through the relative privacy of a vacant alley.

Jiyan rapidly clears his throat. “At the imperial palace. Which is where I reside.”

“It’s also the residence of your King. Rather daring of you to place a foreign risk near your sworn sovereign. You’re so certain I’m harmless, is that it?” Geshu Lin puts a hand on the reins, calling Xuehua to a stop, the way he had seen Jiyan do before.

“Perhaps it escaped your attention, but you’re gravely wounded,” Jiyan returns acidly, though he doesn’t seem to have reached the end of his patience, his scent only lightly spiced with irritation. “That discussion can wait until you’ve rested.”

“Address it now,” Geshu Lin demands, displeased. He’s made it clear he doesn’t need the consideration.

Jiyan’s hands tighten on the reins.

At the silence, Geshu Lin twists around, jerking Jiyan close by the chest strap. “General Jiyan,” Geshu Lin’s use of his title is mocking, “your actions are unbecoming of this city’s guardian. This crosses the line of irresponsibility: it is gross dereliction of duty,” he growls. He doesn’t know why he’s so rankled by Jiyan’s unexplained negligence, but if one of his people were so complaisant, they would have lost their head for it.

Jiyan meets his gaze without flinching. “I have been Jinzhou’s General for a decade. It is you who are unfamiliar with this city, Geshu Lin-xiansheng. I have my reasons.”

“Reasons you’re not inclined to tell me?”

“I hope you can forgive my silence on the subject.”

Jinzhou’s King Jinhsi is rumored to have command over time. Is it confidence in his sovereign’s strength? Or perhaps that old adage to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. It’s a viable strategy, assuming you have the ability to suppress the threat.

“I would, however, have your word that you will abide the laws of my people within the bounds of Jinzhou, and that you will bring no harm to my King.”

Geshu Lin scoffs. “My word is all you need?” He drags the dragon closer until their faces are barely an inch apart, and sees Jiyan’s pupils dilate. This pretty prince obviously wants him, but he doesn’t think his initial evaluation of him is wrong: deplorably dedicated and dutiful to a fault, which makes his current actions all the more curious.

“Your word, if you please,” Jiyan insists, patiently unrelenting.

“A man in your position should not accept anyone’s word as inviolate.”

“I will take Geshu Lin-xiansheng’s advice to heart,” Jiyan says, and seems to mean it, unpretentious to an almost inappropriate degree.

He’s giving Geshu Lin a fucking headache. Why does he even care about this? Jiyan’s wisdom, or lack thereof, isn’t his problem. Geshu Lin releases him. “Fortunately for you, I don’t make promises I can’t, or won’t, keep.” A light breeze caresses his skin.

Is Jiyan doing something with his Forte? He knows of Aero users who claim to hear things from the wind, but truth telling is a bit of a stretch.

“I’ll abide your laws within reason. I won’t do anyone harm without just provocation, nor will any reprisal exceed the severity of the original offense. As for your king,” Geshu Lin drums his fingers, “I won’t strike unless there is threat to life, limb, or sovereignty.” These terms are excessively benevolent by his standards, but he has some interest in seeing what Jinzhou has to offer.

Jiyan’s brow creases, none too pleased with the leeway permitted by Geshu Lin’s vow. Though he doesn’t know which clan or country of beast kin Geshu Lin is from, their peoples’ laws often only respect strength.

“Take it or leave it, Your Highness.”

“Add three conditions. First: you’ll try to resolve any dispute with words before violence. Second: should the punishment meted by the law not satisfy you, you will give me a chance to rectify the situation before acting. Third: You won’t move to harm my king in any way unless there is intentional threat to life, limb, or sovereignty. In any other case, you will do your best to settle the matter without due harm.”

The conditions are mildly annoying, but Geshu Lin is willing to grant Jiyan his personal favor. He’s not going to just agree though, not after putting out an ultimatum a second ago.

“Make me an offer.”

Jiyan swallows. His gaze shifts.

Feline ears perk with interest. This should be good.

“In return, I’ll—I’ll cover your expenses. In Jinzhou.”

Geshu Lin smirks, the sly sway of his tail tickling Jiyan’s hand on the reins. “Will you. Are you sure you weren’t planning to do that already?” He hadn’t missed Jiyan unobtrusively paying his city visitation fees, and there had been a suspicious lack of medical bills discussed at the hospital.

The stoic prince isn’t so stoic anymore, a blush climbing the back of his neck to redden his ears. An agitated shift of the dragon’s heavy tail has Xuehua neighing in protest, stamping her hooves at the uneven weight.

Geshu Lin puts a hand down on a nicely toned thigh and feels the muscle jump. He leans in, and Jiyan leans back, but there’s nowhere for him to run.

“Hm?”

“Take it or leave it,” Jiyan grits out, returning his words.

The tiger laughs softly. “Sure, I can be gracious. Ben zuo will allow you the privilege of paying for me.”

Because it is a privilege. Providing for someone beyond the bounds of general hospitality has meaning in Heishan, a laden insult or something else entirely, but this is evidently not the case in Jinzhou. An affront to his honor, Geshu Lin would not tolerate. As for the other, none have been so absurd as to proffer Geshu Lin this gesture—only someone tired of living would dare. There’s something greatly amusing about this softhearted dragon prince unknowingly engaging him—the sovereign who rules the militant nation of beasts—in this dance.

Oblivious, Jiyan says, “Great. That’s settled. Let’s go.” He quickly urges Xuehua into a swift canter.

**

Jiyan endures more teasing when Geshu Lin realizes a door in his guest quarters connects his parlor room to Jiyan’s.

“No one uses it. It’s always locked,” Jiyan tries, but it’s a useless argument in front of the merciless tiger.

Metaphorical tail between his legs, Jiyan wishes him a good rest and executes a (swift) tactical retreat.

Chapter Text

The greatest joy and blessing for any dragon is to meet their destined mate.

Jiyan has heard it, seen it, and, as a pragmatic person, viewed this phenomenon with much skepticism. From the outside looking in, these so-called fated pairs weren’t so different from the rest; they had the same problems as any other couple. There was more love-blind foolishness involved, that was all.

Years ago, Jinhsi, his younger sister and the king appointed by their deity Jue, had met her fated one and instantly taken her in as her personal bodyguard. At the time, Jiyan had given his meimei a thorough telling off for her rash actions, lecturing her until sundown that day. Jinhsi hadn’t even done a background check on Sanhua, hadn’t given Jiyan, her General, the chance to evaluate this person.

But now…

“I owe you an apology,” Jiyan says, face in his hands and tail on the floor, sitting in the imperial study. His voice is muffled, barely heard above Jinhsi’s bright peals of laughter.

“The moment you met your soulmate, a suspicious stranger, you directly snatched him back and stashed him away in your side room!” Jinhsi exclaims, nearly crying with laughter. Her beautiful platinum tail thumps lightly against the seat. “Even I wasn’t that bad when I met Sanhua!”

Standing behind her king, Sanhua is unable to maintain her aloofness at the prince’s predicament, head turned slightly to the side, her mouth hidden behind her hand.

“I know. He’s not even a dragon.” Jiyan’s mate is a tiger. A savagely beautiful white tiger with wicked claws and vicious eyes. “Why did I bring him back. He’s the most suspicious person I’ve ever met,” he bemoans. “He lied to my face saying he doesn’t remember anything about himself.”

Before today, impulse control problems had been an abstract concept to Jiyan, but ever since he saw the damn tiger, his mate, dying on the shore, he’s been battling his own instincts which have gone into overdrive and are, frankly, insane, completely impervious to logic or propriety. Even now, he wants nothing more than to run back and scoop Geshu Lin into his arms, hiding him away in his rooms. He wants to tuck Geshu Lin into his bed where he belongs and curl protectively around his injured mate.

His injured mate, who would probably claw his face off if he attempted that. Geshu Lin did him a favor in mocking him. Had he not done so, Jiyan isn’t sure he would have been able to force his feet out the door of the guest chambers.

“Now, now.” Jinhsi pats his hand. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have let him in the city if you really thought him dreadful.”

“He’s dangerous. The first thing he did on waking was threaten the life of the person trying to save him!” Geshu Lin’s strike had been unbelievably precise, a hairsbreadth away from puncturing vital vessels, yet held rock steady despite his shaking arm. With one foot already in the grave, the tiger’s spirit had still burned so bright.

“Yes, xiongzhang, you’ve only told me that three times now.” Jinhsi’s grin is ear to ear. “I’m definitely not counting.”

“Jinhsi! Because it’s important.”

“Very important,” Jinhsi giggles.

It’s so rare to see her laugh like this, free and open, that Jiyan can’t help but smile, unable to hold onto his exasperation.

She pushes a cup of lemon tea over to him, sweetened with honey.

The drink never fails to soothe, warming Jiyan from the inside. “He scolded me for taking him into the palace with only his word as insurance,” he mumbles against the rim, still feeling—weird about it, a squirmy sensation in his stomach.

Jinhsi props her chin on her folded hands, eyes sparkling with delight. “Mmhmm. And did you like it?”

“Meimei,” Jiyan protests. “I’m—” he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m being serious. He really is a problem.” Had it been a malefactor that had encountered Geshu Lin, the tiger, fading fast, would still have taken their life with him. That level of will and strength… and brutality. Jiyan has met all kinds of warriors in his career, but no one quite like this.

Jinhsi hums. “A powerful Resonator, a Fusion user, though his Forte is currently unstable and unusable.”

“He can still wield his Forte if he’s willing to risk his life. Baizhi couldn’t get an accurate read of his Resonant Criticality due to the frequency anomalies, but she said his potential could theoretically approach the level of mine, maybe even close to yours.”

She arches a brow. “Maybe even more?”

“…And his regeneration is astounding.” Disquietingly astounding. At present, Geshu Lin isn’t a threat. Once recovered, with that kind of vitality sustaining him, he would be able to drag out any fight, a problematic adversary to take down. “I should have housed Geshu Lin outside the city.” It’s what he’s been thinking since bringing the tiger into the palace, guilt nipping at his conscience. “There are mansions on the outskirts that would serve.” There’s a lovely villa he has in mind, a secure and comfortable place to recover, but just considering it has his tail curling in tight with distress.

“A-Yan, how could you be so unwelcoming to your mate? It’s too impersonal, as if he’s just an irrelevant stranger,” Jinhsi chides.

Jiyan thins his lips in disapproval, of himself. “As Jinzhou’s General, the safety of my king and city comes first.”

“You’re wrong,” Jinhsi says sharply. “Is Jinzhou so weak that you need to make personal sacrifices? Do you have so little faith in me?”

“That’s not—that’s not what I mean.” Jiyan hesitates. “I thought you would agree with me. It’s not like you to be lax when it comes to Jinzhou’s security.” He had hoped she would talk some sense into him, or that Sanhua would.

“A-Yan,” Jinhsi takes Jiyan’s hand. Her small palms are warm. “How could I agree when you’ve nearly already convinced yourself out of your chance at happiness?”

Having listened to them silently until now, Sanhua speaks, “Your Highness, if Her Majesty was in danger, I would be the first to say something. You brought your gravely injured mate—whom, might I add, is currently bedridden—to the safest place in Jinzhou. I see no problem with this action. Whether he becomes a danger or not remains to be seen, but he has expressed no ill intent and, as Her Majesty wisely said, if you didn’t have good reason to believe he wouldn’t be a threat, you would not have brought him into the palace.”

“My judgment is compromised.”

Sanhua shakes her head, her Tacet Mark shining brightly in her right eye. “I believe in General Jiyan.”

Jinhsi smiles gently. “I also believe in my General, Jiyan-xiongzhang.”

It’s a strange feeling, Jiyan’s heart warming and sinking in the same moment, because he sees now why Sanhua had her head angled away until now. It isn’t just her pupil that is crimson, the whites of the Marked eye are also reddened. “Sanhua, your eye…”

“It’s nothing, Your Highness. A minor irritation. As you asked, I will report my findings. However, before doing so, I hope you will grant my discourteous request.”

“You don’t have to be so formal when it’s just us here,” Jiyan reminds her kindly.

Sanhua inclines her head. “Then: I would like to know what the wind told you.”

Jiyan frowns. “My reading of the Streams is not precise and can be misinterpreted.”

“The same can be said of this cursed eye.”

That’s true.

“The currents that came into contact with Geshu Lin’s aura were chaotic and difficult to decipher,” Jiyan recounts pensively. “The only clear impression is that he’s extremely dangerous.”

“But?” Jinhsi prods.

“…He doesn’t have malicious intentions towards Jinzhou. He was truthful when he said he keeps his promises, and solemn when he made his oath. But these interpretations can be distorted by the receiver’s perception. I fear that I am only hearing what I wish to hear from the wind.”

Jinhsi tips her head to the side. “Sanhua, why don’t you share what you saw?”

“As you wish, my liege. After receiving your Highness’s communication, I waited in the upper gallery to evaluate Geshu Lin-xiansheng. He has frequencies as chaotic and distorted as the Tacet Discords—”

Jiyan’s hopes plummet, but she continues on.

“—and frequencies as pure and brilliant as Your Highness and Her Majesty.”

“How is that possible?” Jiyan asks, stunned. In Sanhua’s eyes, souls don’t appear in only black and white, but they usually lean heavily towards one or the other. The appearance may even fluctuate over time, or it can be in the middle ground. Both extremes simultaneously, however, is unheard of.

“I’ve never seen the likes of it in anything, living or inert. The amplitudes were also extremely unusual. ‘Off the charts’ so to speak.”

“It’s the first time Sanhua has been punished for peeping.” Jinhsi lets out a small laugh, eyes crinkled with amusement.

A tiny quirk lifts Sanhua’s lips in an awkward smile, and Jinhsi beams.

Jiyan is relieved; the injury to Sanhua’s eye can’t be serious if Jinhsi is so lighthearted. “Aren’t you disturbed by what you saw?” Sentinels know he is unsettled by her findings.

“As you know, there is one other characteristic this sight can judge. What I can only describe as Truth or Lie, though these words only superficially represent what I envision. When Geshu Lin-xiansheng walked into the palace, he was True.”

The three of them have put their heads together to analyze the frustratingly indistinct findings from Sanhua’s sight and his wind on numerous occasions. As a result, Jiyan vaguely understands her meaning. “Even though he lied to my face, his heart is true.” Geshu Lin has no schemes nor desire to deceive… he really is just following Jiyan along to convalesce.

In Sanhua’s evaluation, Geshu Lin’s bizarre frequency pattern makes it a concern, but one that is uninterpretable—an outlier. The two extremes don’t cancel out, but they provide a kind of counterbalance. Consequently, the deciding factor for Sanhua is this second “quality”: his benign intentions.

Jiyan doesn’t agree with her assessment. “If Geshu Lin has frequencies as distorted as Tacet Discords, I don’t think he could be a good person,” he says quietly.

“Does Your Highness remember that man from two years ago who ‘escaped’ the prison?”

It’s impossible for him to forget; he still feels uncomfortable remembering it. The man had been caught performing a grotesque murder. Both Jiyan’s wind and Sanhua’s eye had judged the man as almost pure evil—it was both technically correct and also a misreading.

More accurately, the man’s heart was filled with malice… and vengeance. After thorough investigation, they discovered that he only ever harmed the most despicable, those whose heinous deeds would make even villains balk, and his cruelty was only ever as severe as their crimes. Despite these revelations, Jiyan hadn’t felt right letting that man back out amongst the populace after witnessing the brutality he committed in the name of vigilante justice. Ultimately, it was Sanhua who decided the man’s fate. At her request, Jiyan had given her leave to do as she thought best. Subsequently, Sanhua had ‘lost’ custody of the man, telling him to never again step foot into Jinzhou or he would face the letter of their law. The man had calmly told her, “The one I sought fled here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come. There’s nothing for me to do in your city.”

When Sanhua had conveyed those words to Jiyan, it had made him feel… strange.

The room is silent, the three lost in thought. That man was no virtuous character, but it was a lesson to the three of them on how important nuances could be overlooked if Jiyan’s wind and Sanhua’s sight were taken at face value.

Jiyan holds his head. “So all we know is that he’s complicated,” he concludes.

“I’ve always wondered what kind of person would be xiongzhang’s match,” Jinhsi remarks. “He’s far more interesting than I could have imagined.”

“You mean troublesome.”

“You’re worrying too much. Might I remind you that your tiger also gave you his word.”

“But—”

“Ah, ah,” Jinhsi waggles her finger. “You don’t trust in yourself, but I have faith in you.”

“You’re biased,” Jiyan points out.

“Very biased,” Jinhsi agrees, grinning unrepentantly. She pats Jiyan’s cheek, his hair.

Groaning, Jiyan lets his face thump onto the desk.

“Geshu Lin-xiansheng’s promise was interesting,” Sanhua muses, paying no heed to the sibling’s byplay. “Grievous bodily harm and personal freedom, he has clear values and limits.”

“And he accurately grasped where the limits of xiongzhang’s tolerance were in their brief meeting. I find that even more interesting.”

Why is that interesting? It’s disconcerting.

“Not quite,” Jiyan mumbles into the wood. “I did have to add those conditions.”

“Only a fool would start small in negotiations,” Jinhsi tells him primly.

“Jinhsi… whose side are you on?”

Jinhsi ignores his question. “Your tiger won’t take a life unless the other is after his own. An eye for an eye.”

“No. If he were free to do as he pleases, it definitely wouldn’t just be an eye for an eye,” Jiyan states with certainty, lifting his head. “He would repay the offence twice over, if not more.” Probably more.

Jinhsi smiles, having been maneuvering to this. “Then, hasn’t he already compromised for A-Yan?”

“Compromise is an integral part of relationships,” Sanhua contributes in solidarity.

Jiyan blinks. He swallows.

“It’s just because it’s convenient. He can receive medical treatment here and I’m paying for him—”

Jinhsi tuts. “He’s letting you pay for him, you mean.”

“He’s so arrogant,” Jiyan complains, finally able to voice this grievance. “What privilege. I’m the one doing him a favor.”

“But A-Yan is the one who wants to pay for him~” Jinhsi singsongs.

This is a terrible time for her to discover her childish side. (That’s a lie. It’s wonderful, she’s always had to be too mature.)

Jiyan goes on, his frustration with a certain tiger brimming over. “Who even calls themselves ben zuo these days? Who is he the master of?”

Sanhua coughs into her hand. “Well, Your Highness…”

“A-Yan, you’re making it too easy for us, obviously your tiger is the master of—”

“Jinhsi!”

**

Jinhsi extends an open invitation to Geshu Lin to join them for supper, meant for whenever he is in better health. Geshu Lin takes her up on the offer that very night, ignoring Jiyan’s attempts at dissuasion. Reflecting on the extreme vigilance Geshu Lin has displayed thus far, Jiyan stops trying to persuade him to wait until he has recovered. Having taken a nap, Geshu Lin does appear to be reinvigorated and it’s likely that Geshu Lin won’t be at ease until he has taken measure of Jinzhou’s ruler, the highest authority in the place he has chosen to reside in. Out of consideration for the tiger’s pride, Jiyan helps him to the dining room early so he isn’t seen being all but carried in.

It goes about as he thought it would. Geshu Lin isn’t blatantly disrespectful but he’s not exactly respectful either. Fortunately, Jinhsi has never cared about formalities. Sanhua is less blasé about it, her lips pursed with disapproval, but she holds her silence, having anticipated this from Jiyan’s description of the tiger.

Geshu Lin repeats his claim of amnesia to Jinhsi… but answers her questions about the beast clans, blithely contradicting himself in the next breath. He’s still making no attempt to conceal the lie, even before a sovereign. Geshu Lin paints a bleak picture of the brutality of the place he is from. Reading between the lines is enough to dampen Jiyan’s appetite. A society ruled by power where the weak are trampled. Consumed by battle, the value of individual lives is inconsequential.

“It is what it is,” Geshu Lin says, matter of fact, when Jinhsi asks his opinion of their way of life, probing deeper when Jiyan is reluctant to do so.

Needing to know Geshu Lin’s true feelings on the subject, Jiyan breaks one of his personal rules to respect others’ privacy; he pulls from the small streams in the room that flow in from the open windows.

What he receives from the wind has him stilling in place: a profound, embittered weariness, loathing the truth but forced to accept its reality.

“Does Geshu Lin-xiansheng also believe as those people do, that individuals without power have no worth?”

Geshu Lin laughs humorlessly. “Why ask these questions? You and I know only a fool would believe that. Lacking in strength is not lacking in ability. An intelligent person can make use of what they have.”

Make use, as if people are just another commodity in their unending struggle.

It’s an enlightening discussion, one that gives Jiyan food for thought. Geshu Lin lives a harsh life, one that suits him but doesn’t seem to give him much joy.

Jinhsi frowns a little. “So it’s truly ‘right by might’ in the beast clans. I’m obligated to remind Geshu Lin-xiansheng that matters are not handled in such a way here. In Jinzhou, violence is an absolute last resort, reserved for self-defense. I hope you can be understanding.”

“And if I’m not? Will Your Majesty set your General on me?” There’s nothing nice about Geshu Lin’s smile. “That could be interesting.” He twirls the dinner knife between his fingers, but Sanhua doesn’t even have her hand on her sword—these two are just grandstanding for some unfathomable reason.

Jiyan trades a long-suffering look with Sanhua. Geshu Lin already gave his promise, and Jinhsi knows the details of that promise. Jiyan has no idea what these two are trying to do but it’s like being trapped in a pond with two sharks.

Jiyan sighs. “Geshu Lin, please.”

“Tsk, can’t even take a joke.” Geshu Lin flips the knife back onto the table. He gives Jiyan a patronizing pat on the cheek. “Lighten up, prince.”

Chapter Text

Geshu Lin spends the better part of two days sleeping and healing up. The palace is a decent enough place to convalesce. The food is good, the bed is comfortable, and the guards outside the doors stay at a discreet enough distance that he doesn’t feel the pressing need to murder anyone. Anything he could want is provided without him needing to ask. A tailor shows up on the second day, presenting him with outfits reasonably similar to his original clothing and a few sets of hanfu. Geshu Lin ignores the hanfu and makes some corrections to his combat gear that the tailor dutifully notes down.

In the evenings, the prince comes by to evaluate his injuries and change the bandages. Seeing his restlessness on the second evening—able to stand and walk but unable to make it past the door, Jiyan invites Geshu Lin to join him in his study.

“I’ll be signing papers most of the day, but I would appreciate the company. I’ve a decent selection of books to peruse and there’s a lovely view of the east garden. I imagine that might be slightly more interesting than looking at these same four walls.”

The last bit is true enough; the view would be much improved with Jiyan sitting pretty. Geshu Lin takes him up on the offer. Jiyan’s definition of a decent selection is more like a small library. Most of the tomes are on warfare and strategy, with two shelves dedicated to medicine, and one to leisure. He selects two volumes on Jinzhou history, past and present.

The history books are a slog. Geshu Lin leafs through, skimming the chapters relevant to his purpose. “It seems Tacet Discords are the primary threat to Jinzhou to this day.” The creatures of chaos are a headache for Heishan as well but to a lesser degree; the beastkin are born and raised for war. As for Threnodians, one had loomed over their country in the past, but it had mysteriously disappeared one day along with their deity, leaving Heishan a godless land.

Jiyan glances up from his papers. “That’s correct. Since the Threnodian of War was defeated, it’s no longer on the scale of all-out warfare. However, TD outbreaks continue to threaten the populace and outlying lands.”

“A threat that has been reduced to the extent that Jinzhou’s General can dally in the capital,” Geshu Lin probes, trying to get a lay of the land.

“To the extent that I can provide some assistance to Her Majesty with matters of state as I should have been doing. Some of this work was originally mine to perform.”

Two proud dragons, willingly shackled by duty. It’s a shame, Geshu Lin thinks.

**

There’s only so long the written word can hold Geshu Lin’s attention.

“Come over here,” Geshu Lin idly demands in the early evening, setting up a chess board on the square rosewood table to one side of the room. He had known there would be a chess set in this study; qi being one of the four illustrious arts of the gentleman-scholar as believed by Huanglong’s snooty nobility. He hadn’t found a weiqi set but xiangqi will serve just as well. His real preference would be for a live playing field, but given his current condition, this will have to do.

“As much as I would love to entertain you, I must complete these forms by end of day.”

“Take a break. You’ve been hunched over the desk all day. My back hurts just looking at you.

Persuade me, says the longing glance Jiyan darts at the board.

Geshu Lin smirks. “I’ll make it quick, just for you. Surely you can spare a mere ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes? You’re rather full of yourself.”

Geshu Lin kicks out the chair across from him in invitation. “Come prove me wrong then.”

Geshu Lin plays a lightning-fast game of unmitigated aggression. Recklessly sacrificing pieces, he builds an unstoppable momentum, forcing his opponent into a brutal tempo, and executes the kill with three pieces left on the board.

Jiyan stares at the aftermath, a small furrow in his brow.

Geshu Lin observes him lazily, jaw propped on his palm. “I didn’t take you for a sore loser.”

“I’m not.” Jiyan’s tone is troubled rather than defensive.

Geshu Lin isn’t sure what that’s about, but he won’t complain when it results in a rematch. It’s been some time since he’s faced a worthy opponent.

“Let’s play another game,” Jiyan suggests, moving the pieces back. “There’s no need to rush; I have enough time.”

“Mm. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I want to play a proper game. That’s all,” Jiyan says evasively.

Geshu Lin mounts another offense. This time, Jiyan doesn’t let him force him into his pace, taking his time with each move. The end result is similar, though Geshu Lin retains five pieces on the board.

Geshu Lin’s brows lift when Jiyan silently sets the board again.

The third game concludes with Jiyan seizing victory though he doesn’t look happy to have won. When Geshu Lin had seen the loss approaching from ten moves away, he had turned it into a battle of mutual annihilation. The board is stark; only a few lonely pieces left standing.

“In my opinion, the saying that a person’s game reflects their character has little meaning.”

So that was it. Nothing changes in Jiyan’s expression but there’s a sharp spike in his scent. Reading so much into a simple game, is Jiyan trying to decipher him? The saying isn’t entirely wrong, but this isn’t how Geshu Lin usually plays. “A cautious person can play an offensive game, a reckless person can play a defensive one, and a proficient player can adapt to their opponent. But if what you’re deliberating so hard is whether I believe in victory at any cost, I’ll spare you the trouble. It’s not about victory but gains. If the gain is worthwhile, I am willing to pay the price.” This element was indeed representative.

“…Regardless of how great the cost is. Then what do you think of this match?”

“In xiangqi, a win is a win. The objective of this game is to capture the general. Therefore, I move with the assumption that the general’s life outweighs everything else on the board. If this principle is not true, it would be a completely different game. Then, all three games would be pyrrhic victories, no different from a loss.”

Accurately interpreting this, Jiyan says, “So it’s about material worth to you.” His lips are curled down at the corners. “Would you place a general’s value above the rest?”

Geshu Lin doesn’t know whether Jiyan is referring to the game or the real world, but it’s the same either way. “Is it the soldier or the general that wins battles? Unless the general is incompetent, the answer is clear. Why do you care so much about it?”

“…You are too cavalier in sacrificing pieces.”

“To control the flow of the game, it is crucial to maintain the initiative. Hesitation will cost you that initiative. I moved quickly but was I greedy? Was I careless?”

“You were reckless. You even left your General undefended.”

“I was ruthless, you mean. Every risk was calculated.”

Jiyan sulks. He doesn’t return to his desk.

Geshu Lin’s smile is conniving, having a hunch. “Are you wondering if I play weiqi the same way? Bring your set out and you’ll know.” Truthfully, he’s the one itching for a match.

Jiyan scowls. “I bet you just cut everything that could possibly be cut and pick fights across the board.”

“Do I? I don’t need to guess about you. I’m sure you focus on form and structure, building beautiful patterns. There’s no mystery there, but I’d still like to see it.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you what you want,” Jiyan grumbles. “That wouldn’t be a quick game.”

Geshu Lin laughs. “I’ve never needed to flatter anyone. On the field of weiqi, every piece is of equal value. Excessive sacrifice would only be cutting my own throat. Aren’t you curious how I’ll play?” he entices.

Jiyan looks sorely tempted, but still says, regretfully, “Another time, perhaps.”

Geshu Lin shrugs. “Your loss.”

**

Two days later, Geshu Lin is back on his feet. Having anticipated this from their daily checkups, Jiyan carves time out of his schedule to show Geshu Lin around. Their first stop is the breakfast shops for folded egg crepes, savory and crisp, which Geshu Lin promptly decides needs to be a part of every breakfast for the foreseeable future.

“I’ll see it done,” Jiyan agrees easily, sounding pleased. The city walk somehow turns into an impromptu food tour, which is more than fine with Geshu Lin.

The only issue they have isn’t really one at all: the shopkeepers refuse to accept Jiyan’s money. The city loves their prince, everyone from shopowners to children calling out to him as he passes by, tails practically wagging at the attention he gives them. The issue of payment seems to be an old argument, one that Jiyan is perpetually losing, looking helpless. It’s silly and nonsensical and makes Geshu Lin feel strange, as if he’s in some bizarre universe out of touch with reality. There is kindness in Heishan as well, it’s not like that place is the ninth circle of hell, but in Jinzhou it’s damn near the entire city, and he can tell it’s not just because of Jiyan’s rank or beauty that the people love him so.

Geshu Lin snorts at the subtle hangdog expression on Jiyan’s face, tail drooping low as they walk down the street. “Give me your wallet.”

“…What?”

Jiyan’s hands are full with the Loong whisker crisps so Geshu Lin pats over his waistband, triumphantly plucking out a blue pouch that clinks with shell credits. It has a nice weight in his hand as he tosses it up and down. “I bet they’ll take my money.”

“It’s my money,” Jiyan argues after a stunned beat.

The merchants don’t want to take the credits of the prince’s guest either. Geshu Lin gives them no choice but to accept, putting down the credits and hauling Jiyan away before they can try and give it back.

“Ah.” Jiyan appears to be having a revelation, if not a particularly welcome or helpful one.

“You’re too damn polite,” Geshu Lin confirms, in case the idiot missed the point.

Jiyan opens his mouth, and then closes it, considering and discarding several replies. In the end, he sheepishly holds out a paper wrapped Loong crisp to Geshu Lin in offering. It’s sweet, the pastry floss crunching lightly between his teeth.

“I don’t think your method will work for me,” Jiyan admits.

Geshu Lin shrugs. The solution is easy enough. “I’ll just hold onto this then.” He tucks the wallet into the inner pocket of his jacket.

**

Those within the palace address Jiyan as His Highness, while those outside call him General; a curious distinction. The palace is fixated on nobility, no surprise there, but the populace appears to value Jiyan’s role as a protector more.

The bruiser of a beastkin that Jiyan introduces to Geshu Lin addresses Jiyan as General, which makes him think that Calcharo had previously guarded the outlying lands and was only brought into the imperial palace for his sake. This hound has good instincts, instantly wary the moment Geshu Lin had been in his vicinity. With those ears and tail, that scent, he’s more dog than wolf, but he holds his ground when Geshu Lin stalks a circle around him, calm but braced for the potential of a fight. His ears are up with alertness, not pinned back with useless aggression. Much better than that spineless wolf back home. He isn’t overly respectful but the best never are.

“What’s your rank, soldier?”

“Lieutenant General, daren.”

Geshu Lin flicks his tail at Jiyan. “A Lieutenant General as my babysitter when you’re not around? You flatter me, Your Highness.”

“I believe this is the bare minimum,” Jiyan says dryly, arms crossed over his chest. “I thought…” He shrugs. “I thought you might be more comfortable with Calcharo since he is beastkin.”

Considerate as always.

“New Federation. It’s a cutthroat world out there.”

Calcharo nods in grim agreement. It’s easy to see that he’s a soldier to the bone. More than being beastkin, that’s what makes them alike. Geshu Lin bares his teeth in a smile. “I like him. Careful, Jiyan, I might steal this one from you.”

Jiyan rolls his eyes.

**

Calcharo brings daily reports of Geshu Lin’s activities to Jiyan. Physical health fully restored, Geshu Lin heeds Jiyan’s request for him to remain in proximity of the city walls for an entire two days. He restlessly prowls the city, climbing the rooftops (why?? Is it a cat thing?). He enjoys the food and lingers near the street musicians, leaving behind coins from within the crowd with no one the wiser save Calcharo—the only one able to follow the swift flick of his fingers. He has no interest in the theater, though he does sit through one of Lingyang’s Lion dances.

“Did Lingyang react to him?” Jiyan asks curiously.

“Lingyang’s performance was enthusiastic.” Calcharo pauses. “More than usual,” he clarifies. “But he was also shy of Geshu Lin-daren. He sneaked a few peeks but didn’t approach.”

Interesting. Good natured as he is, Lingyang is far older than his appearance would suggest, not easily intimidated. More notably, he is a lion, a proud king of beasts, and a strong Resonator in his own right.

Jiyan finds something else interesting as well. “Why do you call Geshu Lin daren? You normally address guests without formal titles as xiansheng.”

“He’s a daren,” Calcharo returns definitively, and has no further explanation for it.

Following that, Geshu Lin expands the range of his pacing to the outlying fields and villages on the outskirts. He’s churlish when stopped by Verina, tail whipping agitatedly, but listens to the end of her chitchat, crouching down to hear her out. In the evening that day, he and Calcharo drop off a handful of rare seeds they had picked up in their wanderings. He doesn’t stay to hear her effusive thanks, leaving with a dismissive wave.

“You weren’t worried?” Jiyan asks, when Calcharo reports this to him. He has seen how protective Calcharo is of the young girl. “You evaluated Geshu Lin as highly dangerous.”

“No,” Calcharo replies promptly. He looks surprised at his own answer. Considering it more carefully, he says, “I don’t think I would be concerned unless Geshu Lin-daren has substantial reason to harm her. Even then…” he shrugs. He has no rationalization, just a gut feeling.

“You’ve followed Geshu Lin for a few days,” Jiyan notes. “I’d like to hear your opinion of him.” He lets Calcharo take his time pondering the query. His insight is always worth the wait.

“A man who would be fearsome and disastrous as an enemy, and difficult but stalwart as a friend.”

Chapter Text

At dawn the following day, Jiyan encounters Geshu Lin upon exiting his chambers, skulking and lying in wait by the door.

“Calcharo said you’re hunting Tacet Discords. I’m going with you,” Geshu Lin growls, stalking up to him. “I need to kill something.” Heavy, undirected killing intent permeates the air, the tiger’s gaze blazing such a brilliant gold that Jiyan is momentarily dazed, his mouth answering, “Okay,” before his brain catches up.

Calcharo, standing behind Geshu Lin, coughs lightly.

Jiyan recovers himself. “I mean, it’s too dangerous.” What’s dangerous is Geshu Lin. For Jiyan’s sanity. Bloodthirst shouldn’t look attractive on anyone. “You can’t utilize your Resonator powers before they’ve stabilized.”

“I don’t need my Forte to kill some TDs,” Geshu Lin sneers contemptuously.

Jiyan looks to Calcharo for support, but his Lieutenant General gives him a helpless shrug.

He doesn’t doubt that Geshu Lin is a capable warrior but fighting Tacet Discords without Resonator abilities is too dangerous. With the amount of murderous intent Geshu Lin is exuding though, Jiyan suspects if he doesn’t agree, Geshu Lin will go find trouble on his own. If he brings Geshu Lin along, he can at least keep an eye on him.

“Alright, but you must stay by my side and cooperate with the team.”

“Sure, fine,” Geshu Lin agrees with impatience.

“I have Geshu Lin for the day then. Calcharo, report to Commander Taoqi. They could use your assistance over there.”

“Yes, sir.” Calcharo salutes him. “Daren,” he says to Geshu Lin with a slight dip of his chin, a tilt of his head to the side.

Geshu Lin gives him a casual nod, and he goes.

Did Calcharo just bare his throat? He has never seen him do anything of the like. As an Exile, Calcharo’s knowledge of beastkin courtesy is patchy at best, and he rarely adheres to the ones he does know unless required.

Jiyan looks at Geshu Lin.

“Why aren’t we moving?”

Nevermind. There’s no use asking this person. “Has anyone mentioned to you that you’re very rude?”

“I am. What of it?”

“…”

Dangerous or not, going about with this kind of attitude and no Forte to back it up… Jiyan can very much envision Geshu Lin offending people left, right, and center. He’s lucky he landed in Jinzhou. “As a convalescing patient in a foreign land, shouldn’t you be a bit more restrained?” Jiyan asks wryly. “I can’t always be around to defend you.”

“You? Protect me?” Geshu Lin’s gaze flicks over him, dismissive. “The day hasn’t come when I need a hatchling to defend me.”

Hatchling?

Jiyan doesn’t have a temper, but Geshu Lin is giving him one. “A few days ago I had to carry you in.”

“Hmph. Should you have tried something, ben zuo wouldn’t have spared you.”

Jiyan can maybe believe that claim, but Geshu Lin’s delivery of it is really infuriating. “How have you lived this long and not been murdered in your sleep?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“How else? Ben zuo’s Forte is good. Without my Forte, still better than them. Even if the person wants to, what can they do?”

An involuntary spasm twitches the fingers of Jiyan’s sword hand.

Geshu Lin, of course, doesn’t miss it. “Oh? Want to go?” Sharp canines peek out from the corners of his grin.

Jiyan presses his knuckles to his forehead for a moment. “Please at least get a weapon before you start picking fights. What do you wield?”

“I prefer a broadblade, but any sword will do.”

“There should be something suitable in the armory.” Geshu Lin needs a good blade if he’s fighting without his Resonance abilities. One with a defensive enchantment would be best but they’re uncommon in broadblades. The two places that might have a decent one are the National Treasury—out of the question—and the Royal Armory.

The Royal Armory belongs to him and Jinhsi alone. The two of them only ever use their chosen weapons so everything in there is just collecting dust. His three most trusted people have confirmed Jiyan’s judgment of Geshu Lin… bringing him there should be fine?

**

Passing the second guarded set of doors, Geshu Lin asks interestedly, “Is this the National Treasury?”

“Of course not.” The Royal Armory is part of the Royal Treasury, but it’s only in name. One of their predecessors had been a collector, a weapon aficionado who had dedicated a separate wing to the Armory.

Jiyan has Geshu Lin wait at the third set of doors with the guards while he goes to open the vault. The layered lock requires a precise turn sequence of a multipart ward key, the flare of his Forte, and, finally, the fresh blood of the royal family. Tugging off his left vambrace, he draws a dagger from his belt and opens a cut on his forearm. Once an adequate amount has been spilled, he bandages the wound and straps the vambrace back on. He goes to fetch Geshu Lin, nodding at the guards.

“Follow me.”

Geshu Lin’s nose twitches, gaze dropping unerringly to Jiyan’s left arm.

Jiyan startles when his hand is taken, watching blankly as Geshu Lin removes his vambrace and tucks it beneath one of his belts for safekeeping.

“What are you doing?”

The guards are just as bewildered, hands resting confusedly on their hilts. Is—Is the tiger molesting their prince? If he is, do they draw their swords if their prince isn’t protesting?

Geshu Lin ignores them. Unwinding the bandage, he brings Jiyan’s arm up and laps over the cut.

Jiyan hisses at the roughness of the tiger’s tongue, tail unconsciously rearing up—only to be promptly smacked down by a fluffy white tail. Jiyan makes a strangled sound, the powerful draconian appendage plopping onto the floor in shock.

You don’t touch someone else’s tail in public! Ever! And Geshu Lin—with his own tail—

The two guards faces begin to redden. Half looking away but still needing to stand guard, they can only eat the dog food they are being force fed.

“Stop being a baby.” Geshu Lin holds out a hand. “Bandage.”

“You—what—”

Geshu Lin studies the two rosy faces and a red pair of ears. “Tiger saliva has antiseptic properties and promotes clotting,” he enlightens them in an are-you-idiots tone.

“Oh…” three voices say dully.

—No, that doesn’t justify Geshu Lin’s actions; it’s just that he makes it sound so reasonable, as if they’re the ones who are being irrational if they don’t agree with him—

“What’s wrong with you people? Do I need to get the bandage myself?”

Jiyan hurriedly backs out of reach when Geshu Lin’s hand moves towards his belt. “No! I’ll give you one just—wait a second.” This tiger is so unreasonable. He has no sense of personal space and even less patience. Digging out a bandage, Jiyan hands it to Geshu Lin.

It’s not a cultural difference, is it? This can’t be normal behavior amongst beastkin. Animals lick their own wounds, but beastkin are a civilized people.

…Not that this ill-mannered tiger could be said to be civilized.

“Do you lick anyone with a wound around you?”

“No.”

“Then why… it’s just a scratch.”

Geshu Lin shrugs. “Wanted to see what dragon tastes like.”

“…”

Finished bandaging the wound, Geshu Lin steadies Jiyan’s elbow and slides the vambrace back on, deftly buckling the straps. “Aren’t we going?” he prompts when no one moves.

“Your Highness,” one of the guards pleads tearfully, “please go in.”

**

Jiyan trails behind Geshu Lin as he pads a slow circle of the room. Every kind of weapon is on display, the finest of Jinzhou and beyond its borders collected over generations of the ruling bloodline. There had been more than one weapon afficionado amongst their predecessors, so the selection is extravagant, but Geshu Lin’s interest is lukewarm.

“You can take whatever you like from here.” Jinhsi had made the same offer to Sanhua, so she won’t say anything against it.

Geshu Lin’s steps slow, head cocking to the side. “Anything?”

“Yes?” Wasn’t that what he just said?

Geshu Lin turns on his heel, prowling over. The distance between them shrinks until they’re nearly toe to toe.

Jiyan swallows.

Leaning in, Geshu Lin lays a hand on the hilt of Jiyan’s broadsword, sheathed at the small of his back. “Even this one?” he asks, deep and throaty.

Except that one, Jiyan means to say, but what comes out of his mouth is, “I did say whatever you like.”

Geshu Lin’s lips curve. Drawing the blade, he gives it a swing, airily flourishing it with a turn of his wrist.

Despite its slender profile, Verdant Summit is on the heavier side for a broadblade. It seems too light for Geshu Lin?

“Good sword,” Geshu Lin says mildly, watching Jiyan.

Jiyan returns his gaze steadily, even as his heart pounds.

“How long have you had it?”

“Twenty years or so.”

“I think I like this one. It’s mine then, hm?”

“…On loan.” Good to know his useless lizard brain still has some limits, Jiyan thinks sardonically.

“Your Highness is so generous.” Geshu Lin saunters back over. His tail sweeps, slow and deliberate, low toward the ground.

Jiyan has no idea what it means. When he asked Calcharo for advice about beast-kin social cues, his lieutenant had said, “Cats are not dogs.” His expression was bland, but Jiyan had the feeling he was being deeply judged for not knowing this fact.

Geshu Lin invades his space again. He burns hot even for a Fusion user, like being near an open flame. Sword in his right hand, Geshu Lin reaches behind Jiyan with his other to grip Verdant Summit’s scabbard. Jiyan holds very still, arms hanging uselessly at his sides, caught in the beast’s sight.

Unhurriedly, Geshu Lin slides the sword back into its sheath, enclosing Jiyan in a near embrace. Geshu Lin chuckles. “I’ll spare you this time.” Patting Jiyan’s chest, he goes to peruse the broadblades.

**

A dilemma arises when they go to the livery yard to find Geshu Lin a mount.

“See, that’s a normal reaction.” Geshu Lin gestures nonchalantly to the herd of horses crammed against the farthest end of the corral from him, whinnying in panic and frothing at the mouth. The stable hands are in a fluster, shouting as they try to prevent the horses from trampling each other in terror.

These are the Midnight Ranger’s finest steeds that carry dragons. Mounted battle isn’t feasible for Resonators, but the horses are trained to ride towards Tacet Discords, the best of them able to stalwartly cross battlefields with elemental powers raging about, bringing their riders to their destination. There is absolutely nothing normal about this response.

“They’re not like this with Calcharo. He does upset them, but a few are willing to carry him. I’ve never seen them panic and stampede like this.”

Geshu Lin cuts him a look of disdain. “How could a mere pup compare with ben zuo.”

Jiyan is somewhat speechless on hearing someone call Calcharo a pup.

“They carry dragons.”

Geshu Lin makes a thoughtful sound, arms crossed as he observes the pandemonium. “The dragons of Huanglong are beings of might and majesty, but they are inherently creatures of harmony, descendants of the heavenly guardians of peace and prosperity; your deity, Jue, being one of those guardians. As for my kind,” Geshu Lin’s lips pull back to reveal vicious fangs, “we are but feral beasts. There is no gentility to restrain our savagery.”

Jiyan looks from Geshu Lin to the still hysterical horses. These war mounts stand their ground when faced with beast-type Tacet Discord so he thought some exposure would allow them to acclimate to the tiger but that clearly isn’t happening. He sighs. “Alright, Sir Savage Beast. Please go wait by the gates where you won’t terrorize the horses. I’ll bring Xuehua over.”

Geshu Lin doesn’t move, regarding him with interest. “Your wallet, your sword, your mount. What will you hand over next, your palace? It’s been a while since ben zuo has been pursued so aggressively.” He smirks. “The feeling is not bad.”

Jiyan sputters. “Who—who’s pursuing. I’m just—”

“Just?”

Uh. Jiyan maybe has been thinking of courting Geshu Lin. No, well, he has to reconsider it after today, but he hadn’t done any of those things for such a brazen reason!

“I was being hospitable.”

“If you’re so hospitable to everyone, it’s small wonder you have anything left in your imperial palace. Or…” Geshu Lin steps forward. Jiyan steps back. “I’m just special?” Another step. Another retreat. “But you’re not courting me, is that right?”

“Please stop teasing me, Your Excellency,” Jiyan tries desperately. “Didn’t you want to kill Tacet Discords?”

Geshu Lin keeps him hanging for a beat longer before shifting his weight back. “Anyways, I don’t need a mount. I’m a tiger.”

“…Tigers are good short-distance runners. We have to cover a long distance,” Jiyan says diplomatically.

“I’m tiger beastkin,” Geshu Lin amends. “I assure you, I have no problems with endurance.”

Jiyan pretends not to hear the purr, or wonder what the sound would feel like. “You don’t know how to ride horses, do you.”

They both look at the terrified horses.

“We could ride together?” Jiyan suggests.

“No.”

“…I’ll ride in front.” That probably isn’t less emasculating when Jiyan is the one guiding the horse, but Geshu Lin possibly doesn’t know that.

Geshu Lin considers this.

“Fine.”

Jiyan’s announcement to the company of Rangers that Geshu Lin will be joining them for the mission and riding with Jiyan is met with Very Serious, too-straight faces that mean his soldiers are probably hiding their smirks and slandering him in their hearts. A demonstration of Geshu Lin’s effect on the horses gets several raised brows and curious looks.

On seeing Xuehua unconcernedly carrying Geshu Lin, the mounts tolerate a closer distance than the previous herd with Jiyan and Geshu Lin riding a dozen feet behind the main host. The heat of the tiger’s body is horribly tantalizing; Jiyan curses his naturally cold-blood, sitting rigidly to keep himself from leaning into the hearth-like warmth.

“Show me how to control the horse,” Geshu Lin demands in Jiyan’s ear.

“How to guide Xuehua,” Jiyan corrects, sounding as calm as he doesn’t feel. The palm that rests casually on his hip sears like a brand, strong thighs pressed against the backs of his own.

Hot breath huffs over the back of Jiyan’s neck. He clutches the reins, suppressing a shiver.

“Sure, how to guide Xuehua.”

It’s as good a distraction as any. Jiyan shows him how to hold the reins correctly, explaining how to steer and signal Xuehua, demonstrating when the situation allows. His excellent draconian vision espies the perk of several pairs of pointed ears at the back of the group, the suspicious waggle of one or two tails. He just knows the subsequent teasing from his squadron is going to be endless.

They dismount a ways off from the Tacet Discords, leaving the horses with the squires and closing the distance on foot. Geshu Lin leads the pack, eager for blood with Jiyan anxiously keeping pace. He needn’t have worried; even without his Forte, Geshu Lin is a force of nature, weaving fluidly through the tumult of hurled elements and surging Fortes, cleaving through monsters with every powerful swing of his heavy weapon, pure brute force on another level. Wherever the white tiger goes is a scene of slaughter, a feral light in his eyes.

It’s an awestruck group of Rangers that returns from the subjugation mission. They swarm Geshu Lin curiously once they’ve handed off their horses.

“Just wait until ben zuo gets my Forte back. I’ll show you a real fight then,” Geshu Lin says, lazy and… sated—there’s really no other way to describe it.

It’s concerning, not attractive.

At the pompous self-address, some disturbing eyebrow movements are seen in the crowd.

…It’s the tiger being egotistical so why are the smirks still coming his way?

It’s with a headache that Jiyan returns to his office.

Chapter Text

Mercifully, Jiyan isn’t given any more trials after the day he rides out with Geshu Lin. Reassured of Geshu Lin’s ability, Jiyan sanctions his participation in Midnight Ranger missions with either Calcharo or Jiyan himself present. He is a welcome addition, appreciably bolstering their strength. On days he isn’t out wreaking havoc on Tacet Discords, Geshu Lin rambles through the city, dropping in on Jiyan when he is in his study twice to badger him for a game of chess. Once, Jiyan finds himself outside, sparring with Geshu Lin, not knowing how he arrived there when he had no intention of agreeing. Another, Jiyan is hauled out for a jaunt around town, sweet pastries in hand,

…and wallet safely tucked into Geshu Lin’s pocket.

At Jiyan’s invitation, Geshu Lin takes supper with the royal siblings and Sanhua every evening, a relaxed, informal affair. Geshu Lin is neither intimidated nor impressed by Jinhsi’s position as Jinzhou’s King, having no compunction wielding his sharp wit and sharper tongue against her or Jiyan. For all that, he’s not disrespectful either, nor does he disdain her youth, discussing politics and civics with her seriously. To Jiyan’s astonishment, this attitude of neither-hot-nor-cold acknowledgement has Jinhsi warming up to Geshu Lin. Dinner becomes a lively affair with the addition of one tiger, debates bandied about over the meals.

**

It's another office day for him when Geshu Lin comes by to visit.

“Jiyan,” Geshu Lin says, instead of his usual mocking Your Highness.

The oddly subdued tone has Jiyan lifting his gaze from the forms he is working on. Geshu Lin stands before his desk, his face a mask of impassivity. Geshu Lin’s appointment at Huaxu Hospital should have just ended. He must have come directly over. Was there an issue with Geshu Lin’s resonator abilities at the checkup?

Jiyan sets aside his brush. “What brings you by? How did the doctor’s visit go?”

“Fine,” Geshu Lin answers tersely. “Could you have a look at this?” He holds out a sheet of paper.

It’s the prescription for the antidote, moderately complex with two rare ingredients. “Did Doctor Wei say how long you are to take this medication?”

“Two months for a complete cure.”

Jiyan should be happy for Geshu Lin but…. Two months is too short, he thinks with a guilty twinge of his conscience.

To date, Geshu Lin has shown no interest in settling, waving off Jiyan’s suggestion of a formal contract for his work with the Rangers. He has made no inquiries regarding citizenship and only demonstrates polite interest in the local politics discussed on occasion at the dinner table, giving the impression of a transient visitor. Without knowing how Geshu Lin’s treatment would proceed, Jiyan hasn’t been able to bring up the topic of what Geshu Lin plans to do after he is cured… nor is he sure he wants to.

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad they were able to formulate the antidote. I’ll have the prescription sent to the Royal Pharmacist—”

“No.”

Jiyan frowns. “You don’t want them to make your medicine?”

The tiger’s tail jerks once before holding low and unnaturally still.

“Can you brew it? I’ll repay the favor when I’ve recovered.”

Jiyan stares, recalling their first meeting: Geshu Lin’s caution in taking medicine from him. He had thought it was due to the situation—Jiyan was a stranger and Geshu Lin was severely wounded in a recent attack.

“Geshu Lin,” Jiyan says, controlling his voice, “have you taken any of the medicine you have been prescribed?”

“They weren’t necessary.”

“Geshu Lin!”

“I don’t take medicine from people I don’t trust,” Geshu Lin growls back, irritated by the scolding in Jiyan’s raised voice. “I healed fine without them.”

“And the tonics for frequency stabilization and resonance recovery?” Jiyan demands.

“Those are tonics, not a cure. I know my condition, it won’t deteriorate without them.”

“It won’t deteriorate but it won’t improve either.” Jiyan presses his palm to his forehead. He had no idea Geshu Lin wasn’t taking his medication. Geshu Lin must be dumping the medicine sent to his quarters, leaving the empty bowls for the servants to collect. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Geshu Lin mutters.

Jiyan steadies himself. It’s true that the previous medications had not been vital as long as Geshu Lin wasn’t utilizing his Forte, and if it’s an issue of trust…

Jiyan lets out a long breath. Obstinate as he can be, Geshu Lin is a pragmatic person, he doesn’t make self-defeating decisions. Geshu Lin trusts him now, he realizes. “Let me see your wrist.”

Geshu Lin compliantly extends his hand for Jiyan to take his pulse and examine his frequencies. As Geshu Lin said, his resonance is the same as before, irregular and unsteady, neither better nor worse. Jiyan retracts his hand and laces his fingers together, regarding Geshu Lin over them. “I’ll brew the antidote and the frequency stabilization tonics for you. In turn, you will take the medications as prescribed. Are we agreed?”

“You don’t have the time to make the tonics.”

“I can find the time.”

“They’re not necessary.”

“They’re not absolutely necessary, but they’re still greatly beneficial for the recovery of your Forte.”

“I’ve no desire to incur more debt with you. The antidote alone will suffice.”

“I haven’t said anything about debt.”

Geshu Lin eyes him warily. “Then what do you want?”

Jiyan smiles. “A ‘thank you’ is enough.”

Geshu Lin stares. “You’re an idiot,” he states flatly.

Jiyan hums. “I’m not hearing any gratitude.”

Geshu Lin paces away, tail flicking fitfully. He paces back, a sullen scowl on his face.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. He crosses his arms. “I’ll still be paying you back,” he insists.

“Alright.” Jiyan is happy enough with this result. Calling in his attendant, he instructs him to fetch Geshu Lin’s tonic prescriptions from the pharmacist and set up his brewing equipment and supplies at the side of the room.

As soon as the table is set up, Jiyan goes over to measure out the ingredients.  When the attendant has bowed himself out, he speaks to the person still in the room. “I’ll send the medicine over once it’s done. You don’t have to wait here unless you need to observe the process.”

“…Is there anything I can help with?”

“You know medicine?”

“No. I meant… your paperwork.”

Jiyan pauses in the middle of filling a pot and looks over his shoulder. Geshu Lin is scowling at the tower of parchment on his desk.

Seeing Jiyan’s hesitation, Geshu Lin growls, “Just hand it over. It’s not every day that ben zuo makes this offer.”

“It’s tedious,” Jiyan warns.

Geshu Lin arches a brow. “If there is such a thing as non-tedious paperwork, I have yet to encounter this mythical entity.”

Jiyan huffs. “Give me a minute.” Adjusting the temperature beneath the pots, he sets three timers and returns to his desk. Selecting a folder, he passes it to Geshu Lin.

Geshu Lin thumbs through the contents. “No wonder you handed these over so easily. Taxation records, supply inspection reports, granary shipment weight and tallies,” his voice rises in indignation. “Why the hell is Jinzhou’s prince balancing books for minor provinces? Do you not have accountants for this? A secretary?”

“I did say it was tedious,” Jiyan notes, mildly amused. “I run random bimonthly audits to make sure everything is in order. I’ve found this is a useful method of catching signs of unrest or unusual movements early. The mobilization of any faction requires funds and supplies.”

Geshu Lin gives him a thoughtful look. “A clever tactic, but you’ve created a lot of work for yourself. You don’t trust your assistants to handle it?”

“I have more comprehensive knowledge of major matters within Jinzhou, both military and political. I do enlist their aid as necessary, but I prefer to go over these myself when I have the time.”

“Tsk. No wonder you’re perpetually chained to your desk when you’re not out in the field.” Geshu Lin stretches out a hand. “Brush and ink.”

They work in concentrated silence, the only sounds the shuffle of pages and the swish of brush on paper. Jiyan gets up thrice to tend the brews, decocting one for Geshu Lin. He downs it in one go, makes a face, and continues writing.

After two hours, Jiyan has tea and snacks brought in. Sending the servant out, he carries the tray over to where Geshu Lin is working at a low desk. Geshu Lin had declined Jiyan’s offer of refreshments earlier, but Jiyan thinks he could use it—there’s a continuous low growl that has been emanating from the tiger’s chest for the last ten minutes. The sound is suppressed so it’s no more than a quiet rumble, quite pleasant to listen to—though it would be unwise to say that to the person himself seeing the way it’s accompanied by the irritated lashing of his tail.

Placing the tray on the table, Jiyan raises the hem of his robe and settles on the floor cushion opposite Geshu Lin, tail curving around his crossed legs. The traditional furnishing had been brought in at Geshu Lin’s request, the couch pushed back to make room for the low kang table and cushy rug beneath. Preferring this kind of archaic seating… Geshu Lin is rather old-fashioned.

“Ben zuo hasn’t had to do this kind of menial labor in ages,” Geshu Lin growls at him, elbow on the desk and claws digging into his scalp. The other hand wields the brush; sharp, vicious strokes of ink slashing across the page. The writing is barely legible, but all the final tallies are grudgingly neat.

“I deeply appreciate your help,” Jiyan replies pleasantly, pouring the tea and handing a cup to Geshu Lin.

Geshu Lin throws it back like a shot without looking up from the work. Form completed, he slaps it down on the finished stack and draws another.

Jiyan refills his cup and plates a small dessert, placing it in front of Geshu Lin. “Try a sweet-scented osmanthus cake. They’re fresh from the kitchen.”

“What are you here for,” Geshu Lin grumps. “Go do your work.”

Jiyan moves his chopsticks, placidly dividing the cake on his own plate into fourths to expose the golden middle layer of honey and crushed petals. The delicate floral fragrance of the osmanthus filling isn’t conspicuous to his nose, but Geshu Lin’s sense of smell is much more acute. Jiyan enjoys the dessert slowly, the soft, white cake crumbling delightfully in his mouth, its rich floral aroma pleasing the senses but not too sweet. It pairs harmoniously with the tea in his cup.

Geshu Lin writes another two lines before he succumbs to the lure—as Jiyan knew he would. The tiger’s dietary habits are nearly obligate carnivore, his evasion of leafy greens masterful: Jiyan always ends up with more vegetables on his plate sitting next to Geshu Lin. He doesn’t mind since he likes his greens just fine but it’s unbelievable that he, and Jinhsi, and Sanhua, have never caught the tiger in action. In any case, despite Geshu Lin’s culinary preferences mostly involving red meat—preferably still bleeding on the plate—and the occasional piscine, his sweet tooth is more severe than Jiyan’s.

Setting down his brush, Geshu Lin takes a bite of the cake. The treat rapidly disappears from his plate, the whip of his tail slowing. Two servings later, the fluffy white tail has relaxed into a lazy swish.

When Geshu Lin reaches for the last cake, Jiyan pins his chopsticks with his own before they can make contact. Without blinking, Geshu Lin strikes with his free hand, going for a snatch. The movement is so lightning-quick that Jiyan instinctively seizes the wrist, forcing it down. Geshu Lin’s gaze slowly moves up from the plate to lock with his, a dense, murderous aura seeping out.

“Wait, Geshu Lin—”

Two pairs of chopsticks hit the tabletop, Geshu Lin twisting out of his grip. Arms crossed in a disadvantageous position, Jiyan releases the wrist, snapping out a knife-hand block against the palm strike of the opposite hand. What occurs next is a rapid exchange of blows over the tabletop.

Jiyan is so flabbergasted by the absurdity that his capacity for speech escapes him, seeing Geshu Lin’s brutally beautiful martial arts moves in this context—fighting like it’s a matter of life and death …over the last piece of cake. Unable to match the tiger’s upper body strength, Jiyan is forced into dire straits. He feints an act of mutual defeat, going to crush the fluffy cake. Taken off guard by this deeply spiteful If I can’t have it, you can’t have it mentality coming from Jiyan, Geshu Lin makes a hasty move, giving Jiyan an opening to briefly force him still.

“Geshu Lin! It’s yours! I wasn’t going to take it.”

Geshu Lin’s expression scrunches in bewilderment. “Why are you lying?”

Jiyan doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I was going to tell you to save the cake to counter the bitter taste of the herbs. Your medicines will be ready in twelve minutes—No, ten now.”

Geshu Lin’s oppressive killing intent withdraws… but his hands don’t.

“I’m going to disengage,” Jiyan informs him, barely suppressing his laughter. “It’s just a suggestion: you can choose as you like to eat the cake now or save it for later so please don’t perform another killing move over the table,” he finishes dryly.

“Hmph. You wouldn’t die so easily,” Geshu Lin says, but his tail flicks once in amusement.

(He does wait patiently until after taking his medicines to contentedly savor the last slice.)

To Jiyan’ surprise, a variation is added to Geshu Lin’s selection of daily routines. He visits him in the office more frequently, grimly assisting Jiyan in his hopeless battle against paperwork. He drags his feet every time but determinedly rejects Jiyan’s demurrals, soldiering on.

“Non-negotiable,” Geshu Lin says, as if it makes any sense for a return of grace to be compulsory.

The soundtrack of a tiger’s deep growls is added to Jiyan’s study space along with pacification teatime breaks with sweets.

**

The Moonchase Festival comes around, colorful banners streaming between rooftops and auspicious red lanterns adorning the eaves and doorways. Same as the years prior, Jiyan grants leave to as many soldiers as he can, heading to the Rearguard Base with the remainder to secure their borders so everyone can enjoy the holiday without worry. On this day, the convergence of the dual moons draws the Tacet Discords forth. Jinhsi must stand guard in her city, its defenses lowered; and Jiyan must keep watch at the frontier, defending their borders. The day after, he always has festive cakes and snacks to taste, a Wish Lantern to send into the sky—Jinhsi saves them for him. To him, it’s more than enough, even if it’s not quite the same.

Jiyan checks in with Jinhsi and Taoqi regarding the city’s security before riding out, catching them in a side hall just off the foyer. They’re wrapping up their discussion when Geshu Lin wanders in. Already knowing what he’s here for, Jiyan pays him no mind, continuing to enumerate his reminders as Geshu Lin walks up to him. Without a word, Geshu Lin reaches into Jiyan’s waistband and plucks out his wallet, stuffing it into his own jacket. Jiyan has gotten so used to it at this point that he doesn’t even blink, even cooperatively angling himself to give Geshu Lin access. He doesn’t realize they’ve done anything unusual until Jinhsi covers her mouth with her hand, eyes bright with merriment. Taoqi is abruptly very awake, no sign of her previous sloth.

Naturally, Geshu Lin, the culprit, has already absconded, leaving Jiyan with the aftermath.

“General, I was going to mention that this spiel is already permanently engraved in my mind since you give it to me every year. But I believe there is a more pressing matter at hand.” Taoqi’s pale pink tail swishes. “I’ve been remiss in my duties as the Commander of the Imperial Guard, allowing our General to be robbed in broad daylight. Shall I go arrest that gentleman and retrieve your wallet?” she inquires blandly.

Jinhsi turns away. Her quiet coughs sound suspiciously like giggles.

Jiyan clears his throat, heat in his ears. “No need. He, ah, he has my permission to take it.” Geshu Lin doesn’t need to borrow from him when Jiyan has given him his own funds to use as he pleases. It’s just a persisting bad habit that Jiyan keeps failing to correct.

“Are you quite certain, Your Highness? There’s no need to be embarrassed. It happens to the best of us,” Taoqi insists, blinking innocently, because every last one of Jiyan’s subordinates are gremlins. If there had been a thief, they would be halfway across the city by now.

“I am certain,” Jiyan says, pained. “Thank you kindly for your concern, Commander Taoqi.”

**

Jiyan is on patrol when the night sky lights up with a brilliant burst of color, the boom of the fireworks heard even at this distance. He smiles on seeing it, wondering what expression Geshu Lin is wearing as he watches the magnificent display. Would he be excited, drawn in by the festive mood? Or would he be jaded, just another light show of many in his life? Shaking his head at himself, Jiyan sheathes his blade. “That’s the last of them,” he says to the two soldiers with him on this route to check the major outposts. “Good work today. Return to base.”

Turning away, he doesn’t see the proud smiles as the two soldiers smartly salute him. “Yes, sir!”

Jiyan does a final circuit, checking in with the Rangers manning the guardhouses before retiring to his room in the base. He’s just readying for bed, dressed in his sleeprobe when there’s a knock on his window. Seeing golden eyes and fluffy white ears, he rushes over to open it.

“Geshu Lin? What are you doing here? Did something happen in Jinz—mmph?” He blinks at the piece of flatbread suddenly stuffed into his mouth.

“You’re such a worrywart. Calm down. Your city is still standing; we didn’t party that hard.”

Oh. Then why is Geshu Lin here? He backs away so Geshu Lin can slip in through the window.

Jiyan chews on the flatbread in his mouth. It’s sweet.

“I don’t know why, but every last person was pestering me about you at that damned festival. They seem to have the misguided idea that you’re attached to my hip and wouldn’t shut up until I accepted your share of goods from them.” Geshu Lin points at Jiyan’s mouth. “That’s from the old man that runs the foodstall. I’ve got plumpcakes and wine too.”

Finished swallowing, Jiyan says, bemused, “You could have told them I’m out at the Rearguard Base. They should know; it’s the same every year.”

“I told them, for all the good that did,” Geshu Lin grumbles. “Your dragons have selective hearing. Anyways, it’s more than I could eat so I stopped by. Apparently, you’re supposed to consume these while appreciating the moon—you dragons sure know how to indulge. Let’s go to the roof.”

When Geshu Lin beckons, Jiyan follows without thinking, led forward by the lazy sway of the white tail. He’s stunned anew to find two sky lanterns on the roof, just waiting to be lit.

“You left Xuehua for me?” Geshu Lin asks, taking a seat.

“As a precaution.” Xuehua had been peeved, stomping her hooves when Jiyan had taken another horse, leaving her behind. He had explained to Xuehua that, in case of emergency, she was the only one brave enough to carry Geshu Lin. That had been followed by the bribe of two apples before she was pacified.

“You’re an idiot.”

The roof tiles are cold, the night breeze drafty through the thin layers of his robe, but the view from here is beautiful; the moon hanging full and low in the sky upon a blanket of glimmering stars.

Geshu Lin frowns on seeing him shiver. “It’s only a slight chill. You cold-blooded beasties are useless. Sit closer.” Unbuttoning his jacket, he tosses it over Jiyan’s shoulders.

Still retaining Geshu Lin’s body heat, the jacket is gloriously warm. Unable to resist the lure, Jiyan slips his arms into the sleeves and scoots closer. Geshu Lin cooperatively shifts until their thighs are pressed together, handing him a paper wrapped plumpcake and pouring two bowls of wine.

“I appreciate the thought, but I shouldn’t imbibe.”

“You could stand to be a little less responsible. You’re not even on duty.” Geshu Lin makes a sound of exasperation. “Forget it, you’re just like this. One bowl won’t get you drunk. Drink however much you want, I’ll finish the rest.”

Jiyan takes the wine from him, staring down at the bowl.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For all of this.”

Geshu Lin grunts, looking away. “Yeah, sure.”

Jiyan breaks the plumpcake down the middle, holding out half to Geshu Lin. He answers the tiger’s questioning look with a small smile. “It’s meant to be shared.”

The tiger’s returning grin is sharp. “I won’t be polite then.”

Admiring the moon with a cup of wine, the fragrant taste of well wishes melting in his mouth and pleasant company at his side; it’s been some time since Jiyan has enjoyed this. He blinks away the mistiness in his eyes.

Afterwards, Geshu Lin hands him a lantern and a brush.

“I wish for the peace and prosperity of Jinzhou,” Geshu Lin drawls, scrawling the words on his lantern.

Jiyan’s brow creases in bafflement. “You do?”

“I don’t believe in fortune from the heavens,” Geshu Lin states bluntly. “Ambitions and aspirations must be seized yourself with mortal effort.” His head tilts. “Then again, you do have a deity so perhaps a blessing is possible.” He shrugs. “Either way, I bet this is the wish you make every year, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jiyan answers, feeling dazed.

Adorned in moonlight, the white tiger is stunning, his gaze fierce and bright. “I’ll make it for you this time, you pathetic fool,” Geshu Lin says, “so write down what your heart truly desires for once.”

I’m so gone for him, Jiyan thinks, and forces his gaze down to the lantern so he doesn’t do something rash, like grab Geshu Lin and kiss him. His brush hovers in indecision for so long that he has to dip it in the ink again. He sneaks a peek at Geshu Lin, but the tiger isn’t looking at him. Geshu Lin is turned slightly away to give him privacy, his assembled lantern in his lap.

Because he is a fool, and because it is what his heart truly desires, Jiyan writes: I wish for the full recovery of my beloved’s health and for the fulfillment of his dreams.

Lighting the lanterns, they release them into the sky. Despite saying he doesn’t believe in wishes, Geshu Lin’s head is tilted up, watching the gentle glow float up towards the firmaments. His features have the same harsh set to them, but the wind carries to Jiyan a touch of wistfulness, a tinge of melancholy.

When the lanterns can no longer be seen, Jiyan says to the person sitting at his side, “You’re not staying, are you.” He knows; Geshu Lin has already said as much through his actions and non-actions. He had been clear, but Jiyan wasn’t ready to listen.

Geshu Lin turns to him. His expression is calm, his gaze steady.

“Your city is beautiful. Your people resilient and kind.”

Jiyan already knows that isn’t the end of what Geshu Lin has to tell, yet he’s still unprepared for the revelation that follows.

“But in Heishan,” Geshu Lin says, “I command a hundred thousand beasts.”

Heishan, an ocean away, a country Jiyan has only read about in books. But he does know this; there is only one person who can command the Hundred Thousand Army: the King of Beasts.

Jiyan stares mutely, struck dumb. He had considered that Geshu Lin could be someone with high authority, but this is beyond his imagination. The black mountains of Wuhan, the seat of the most formidable country on the Warring Continent, its military might unmatched. The day at the shore, his unreasonable strength, the way beasts and beastkin had reacted to him; these curiosities have all been answered.

“Ben zuo will reintroduce myself.”

The self-address falls differently now into Jiyan’s ears, not playful nor pompous, but befitting a sovereign.

“I am Geshu Lin of Heishan, King of Beasts.”

He performs no courtesy because it is all others that must lower their heads in his presence.

Geshu Lin, King of Beasts, Jiyan repeats in his head, trying to fathom the shape of it.

The same Geshu Lin who plays thrilling games of chess with him.

The same Geshu Lin who drags him out of his office and fights Tacet Discords at his side.

The same Geshu Lin who made a wish for him tonight.

Geshu Lin is the same person; he looks no different after the revelation, yet a gaping chasm yawns open between them, immeasurably vast.

What Jiyan had asked, for Geshu Lin to stay, is no more than a joke. Giving up a country for a single person.

No… if Jiyan has his responsibilities as Jinzhou’s Prince General, then Geshu Lin must bear that much more as Heishan’s King. Abandoning his country for a single person… This, Jiyan cannot ask. He can only laugh at himself, the sound soft and ragged.

“I’ve offended,” Jiyan says, his voice hoarse.

Geshu Lin’s brow creases when Jiyan rises unsteadily to his feet, something shifting behind his gaze as Jiyan puts a respectful distance between them. He goes to his knees, folding his hands flat on the shingles. Your subject, Jiyan-qinwang of Jinzhou is honored to meet Your Majesty—he means to say, pressing his forehead to the backs of his hands in the appropriate kowtow before the throne.

Tiles clatter, distance closed, and Jiyan’s arm is seized in an iron grip, disallowing him from performing the obeisance.

“No.”

In his haste, Geshu Lin is down on one knee, his visage severe. The vise of his hand is implacable as he draws Jiyan up straight. His fingertips are hot against chilled skin when they touch Jiyan’s face, lifting his lowered head until they are level, eye-to-eye.

“You don’t need to do this,” Geshu Lin says, steel in his voice. “Not you.”

It’s these small mercies, Geshu Lin’s small kindnesses, that reveal glimpses of the Beast King’s beating heart; that have irrevocably captured his own in turn.

Jiyan looks at him, his expression broken open, his heart on his sleeve.

When Geshu Lin releases him, drawing away, Jiyan feels achingly cold.

“Have I been cruel?” Geshu Lin asks.

He knows how Jiyan feels for him.

“Why? Why did you do all this?” Jiyan gestures to the forgotten wine bottle, the tidied brushes and ink.

“Because I wanted to,” Geshu Lin answers, straight and simple.

Of course. This is how Geshu Lin is: doling out cruelty and kindness in the same breath.

But Jiyan thinks of the warmth of Geshu Lin against him when they had ridden together, of blades crossed and impassioned arguments, of wishes beneath the moon.

Just as Geshu Lin could stay in Jinzhou, Jiyan could follow him to Heishan. He asked Geshu Lin to remain, but Geshu Lin will ask nothing of him, because the choice is no more than a fanciful dream. Their paths are decided, the future set in stone.

“This is what I wanted as well,” Jiyan says, “You haven’t been cruel because there is not a single thing I regret.” From their meeting to their inevitable parting, there is nothing he would want to change, not even his wish.

“I know,” Geshu Lin says. “This is who you are: you’re just this kind of fool.” His gaze is warm, his features softened, and it’s so easy for Jiyan to move over to sit next to the King of Beasts, to lean into his side to steal his warmth.

“Then we’ve both been fools.”

“Mm,” Geshu Lin agrees.

A soft white tail curls around the dragon’s, the two sweetly entwined with only the moon and stars to bear witness

“Since you insist on being senseless, then don’t look to the past,” Geshu Lin murmurs. “What’s gone is gone.”

Let this be enough; don’t dwell upon me.

A small smile curves Jiyan’s lips. He rests his head on Geshu Lin’s shoulder.

“I don’t make promises I won’t keep.”

Chapter Text

When Geshu Lin’s Forte is fully restored, Jiyan takes him to the Norfall Barrens. There, he witnesses the legendary black fire of the King of Beasts, this corner of their world set ablaze with infernal flames.

This is Geshu Lin’s parting gift, his gratitude—to lend his assistance in eliminating Jinzhou’s greatest threat. As they fight the horde of Tacet Discords side by side, their Fortes sing together, a chorus, a symphony; the essence of their souls resonating in immaculate harmony.

Does Geshu Lin feel it as well? The perfect complement of their souls.

Their gazes catch, and in the tiger’s eyes is wonder, elation… and reluctance. That is how Jiyan knows he does. The bittersweetness of a single battle together, experiencing this joyful union, only to have to part.

**

“You can’t bring a single jacket,” Jiyan argues. “What if you lose this one or if it’s damaged?”

Geshu Lin rubs his forehead. Should he try throwing Jiyan out of his room again? No, that’s futile.

“I don’t need the coat. I never get cold. You should know; you’re always taking advantage of me, using me as your personal heater.”

Jiyan rolls his eyes at the King of Beasts. The audacity. “As if you don’t like it. Who’s taking advantage of who is hard to say.”

“Hmph. I know the truth,” Geshu Lin accuses. “You just want me for my body.”

Half his attention occupied with packing, stuffing in a second jacket, Jiyan’s mind stalls. “Well. It’s not bad.” Realizing what he said, he quickly turns away, going to check the closet for the nth time.

There’s a susurrus as a tail swishes, ruffling the sheets.

Jiyan is driving Geshu Lin mad, acting as if he’s some child going on their first vacation. He’s going home to kill people. It’s not going to matter if he has two versus three towels—which Jiyan took an entire fifteen minutes to decide, debating with himself back and forth; or if he needs two different combs for his fur and hair.

Hells, Jiyan even checked his underwear, counting every pair. There was not even a flicker in his expression or scent, so he wasn’t teasing Geshu Lin, he was serious. At that point, Geshu Lin had put his head in his hands and submitted himself to whatever obsessive compulsive insanity this is.

“You need to take at least one set of hanfu,” Jiyan says for the fourth time. He’s worse than a nagging housewife.

“Do you think I’m going back for a picnic? What the hell do I need formal wear for when I’m going back to kill people?”

Geshu Lin goes for the bag on the mattress between them, intending to zip it closed and be done with it.

“Don’t you want to slay that wolf in style?”

Geshu Lin pauses for a second, just long enough for Jiyan to slip the hanfu into his bag.

…

Forget it. It’s too much trouble to keep arguing.

Jiyan has already moved on, paying him no attention as he mutters to himself. “Rations, gear, toiletries—” He runs down a mental checklist.

“Anything else?” Geshu Lin asks sarcastically, leaning back on his hands.

Jiyan touches his chin. His gaze moves to Geshu Lin.

“Just this.”

Mind ground into putty by Jiyan’s incessant nattering, Geshu Lin is unprepared when the dragon abruptly pounces, tackling him to the bed and… binding him tight?

“What are you doing?” Geshu Lin tests the give in his restraints, but he doesn’t have a lot of wiggle room. Jiyan, the cunning bastard, has grasped him in a hold that will be hard to break without harming him. He angles his head to the right, then the left, to see what this crazy dragon is doing.

Oh, it’s the tail firmly restraining him as Jiyan… snuggles in.

“Is this really necessary?” Geshu Lin complains. He tugs at the immovable tail, running his fingers through the soft fluff gracing the top ridge. A tiny shiver rustles the scales, but the tail doesn’t budge. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

Jiyan doesn’t reply, his face nuzzled into the crook of Geshu Lin’s neck. He makes small movements, elbow shifting in, weight readjusting a bit to the right, closing every bit of space between their bodies until Geshu Lin is trapped so snug that not even a breath of air could get between them.

“Let me breathe, for Sentinel’s sake,” Geshu Lin wheezes. That tail is ridiculously strong. His bindings loosen just enough for his chest to expand comfortably.

Geshu Lin stares at the ceiling.

After thinking for a moment, he puts his arms around Jiyan and tucks his nose into his hair. A white tail wriggles out to curl around Jiyan’s waist.

This probably isn’t going to end anytime soon. He may as well get comfortable

**

The ship is in the harbor, his travel bag packed when Jinhsi calls on Geshu Lin.

When he walks into the throne room, she is turned away from him, but the grandeur of a dragon king’s power is on full display. The majestic horns on her crown radiate a resplendent light, the power of Time flowing unbridled through the room.  The flutter of petals and leaves in elegant vases quickens and slows, the hands of a clock vacillating wildly between spinning and crawling.

The rolling and heaving flow of time in the room should be unnerving, but Geshu Lin regards her indignation on Jiyan’s behalf with cold disapproval.

“It was his choice to make,” he even reproaches her.

Facing the back of the room, Jinhsi closes her eyes, trying to settle her emotions. This isn’t what she had asked him here for; she hadn’t wanted him to see this.

But the unforgettable image persists in her mind: Jiyan wearing that small smile of his, enduring and resigned, his graceful tail coiled around himself in self-comfort as he sat in the empty nest he had made.

Would Geshu Lin still retain that stern composure if he had seen what she had? Her heart aches at the memory.

“I know,” Jinhsi says. She mentally counts down on a long exhale, the displaced time in the room falling back into step, resuming its natural rhythm by the end of the breath. “I respect xiongzhang’s decision.” She turns to face him.

Geshu Lin arches a brow. “Then?”

She knows the tiger’s stolid expression is at least partly a façade, but it still has her brimming over with vexation. “At least let me scold you,” she mutters discontentedly. This wasn’t what she meant to say either. At the heart of her dissatisfaction is a powerless frustration, because she understands that Geshu Lin must go. And she suspects, with greater confidence than Jiyan, that he has no desire to.

Geshu Lin regards her impassively.

She is considering how to get the conversation back on track when Geshu Lin walks over and takes a seat at the guest table, picking up the cup of tea that awaits him—prepared to stay for a while.

Jinhsi’s eyes widen in surprise, and she has to hide a smile. She has a stern talking-to she must deliver after all.

**

Geshu Lin isn’t a man who says goodbyes, though he halts his steps when Jinhsi swiftly descends the dais in a flutter of silk.

“What is it?”

“I forgot something.” Jinhsi will only get one shot at this; she’s already moving as she begins to speak, slowing Geshu Lin’s Time with everything she has. His innate aura reflexively resists the effect, centuries-old power shrugging off her Forte, but she manages to Slow him for the split second she needs to dart in for the strike—

—snaring him in a hug.

It’s so worth her mortification for the gobsmacked expression on Geshu Lin’s face.

Also, xiongzhang was right, she thinks dazedly, Geshu Lin is an amazing heater. Peerless, really. And here she thought Jiyan was perpetually tucked into the tiger’s side just to wantonly force-feed hapless bystanders dog food.

Geshu Lin doesn’t return the embrace, palming his face in exasperation. “Why are you two like this,” he growls.

Is this what embarrassment looks like on Geshu Lin? What did xiongzhang do, she wonders. After a while, Jinhsi decides she is satisfied and releases Geshu Lin.

Geshu Lin eyes her warily. “Are you done?”

“Not quite. I have one last thing to say.” The most important, and the real reason Jinhsi had called him here. Stepping back, she puts back on the mantle of a ruler, her posture regal as she boldly meets his gaze.

Geshu Lin had given Jiyan an unequivocal answer, but she suspects his true intentions aren’t nearly so decided.

“Geshu Lin-huangsang: there will always be a place for you here in Jinzhou,” Jinhsi pronounces with formal decorum. She must make this offer to him as Jinzhou’s King; for only a sovereign has the right to promise residency and safe harbor for a personage as consequential, and potentially problematic, as the King of Beasts.

The proclamation raises his hackles as she thought it might. Geshu Lin’s expression has darkened, his lips curling down. This mate of xiongzhang’s is a prideful creature.

“Do you have the qualifications to bestow your benefaction on ben zuo?” Geshu Lin demands coldly.

The King of Beasts needs no one’s magnanimity.

“Does zhen need qualifications to extend my hand to you?” Jinhsi returns. “Geshu Lin-huangsang really enjoys making things difficult for yourself.”

“A ruler should have their dignity,” Geshu Lin rebukes.

“But does that preclude accepting with grace?” Jinhsi counters. Does it preclude happiness? She doesn’t think it does.

“Tsk. Like brother like sister; you two have the same overly clever mouth.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Jinhsi replies sweetly.

Snorting coldly, Geshu Lin turns to go with a flip of his tail.

He is halfway to the door, when Jinhsi manages to gather her resolve. Heart pattering, she calls out, “Qianbei.” She hates how it comes out, soft and uncertain. Before she was King, she was the Crown Princess. There has never been anyone she could call her senior.

Geshu Lin doesn’t turn around, but he stops in his tracks.

“Qianbei,” she says, voice firming, “I just wanted you to know that you will always be welcome. I say this not as a king, but as Jinhsi of Jinzhou.”

The tiger is silent for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally says, voice rough. “I got it.”

“And I hope qianbei can consider this: even the King of Beasts needs a place to retire in peace.” If Geshu Lin looked back, he would see that her smile is impeccably courteous, though the platinum tail swishes twice.

Geshu Lin waves his hand dismissively as he goes. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Jinhsi will continue to harbor hopes for a brighter future—for them both.

Placing her bets on xiongzhang is never a loss.

**

News is slow to come from the other continents, but one event in Heishan is so sensational that the rumors sweep across an ocean to Huanglong.

They say the day the King of Beasts had retaken his throne, the palace had been bathed in a sea of carnage, blood flowing through the streets like a river. The traitors had been burnt alive in a conflagration so immense that the towering black flames could be seen from miles away.

As for the usurper, he had died a horrifically slow demise, personally executed by the King of Beasts—the most terrifying honor in their lands.

Some say it was a righteous conquest, that the betrayer had been a cravenly despot, paranoid of others seizing his power, a wolf who would rather kill a hundred than let a single threat go. Others say the Venerable is no better than the usurper, ruling his age-old kingdom with an iron fist.

**

The leaves change color, a year passing Jiyan by in the blink of an eye.

A decade, and the dragon prince is still doing his duty, vigilantly guarding his lands. It isn’t that he is waiting for someone who will not return, but that he acutely feels the passage of time, the days seeming to drag by.

**

Time moves on without regard. It’s twenty years from that fateful day, another Moon-Chasing Festival, another patrol. As always, Jiyan stands guard at the borderlands. Tonight, when he returns to base, he doesn’t retire to his room but climbs to the roof with a bottle of wine. He pours two cups with only the moon for company; one for himself, and the other sitting at his side. A lone cup, full to the brim, forever awaiting a person who will never come.

But the face illuminated by moonlight is neither heartbroken nor wretched. Just a little sad, a little nostalgic. The night breeze is chilly, but the memories he recalls as he gradually empties the cup keep him warm, each recollection a small comfort to his heart.

For a brief moment, just a moment, he allows himself to dream wistfully for more.

Did Geshu Lin know? Decades may pass, centuries may go, yet still Jiyan will linger. Because he has chosen to, because Geshu Lin was right; he is just this kind of fool. His lips tilt up at the corners, wondering where the tiger is tonight, if he is gazing up at the same moon.

The day after the festival, Jiyan holds the wish lantern in one hand, his brush in the other. He inks the brush and sets the darkened tip to paper.

For the first time, he hesitates, a black splotch spreading out.

In the end what he writes is this: I wish for the peace and prosperity of Jinzhou. His smile is wry as he sends the lantern off, watching it carry his wish to the heavens above.

Because at the core, he and Geshu Lin are the same. If he wanted, Jiyan could relinquish his duties, fly to the one who holds his heart in his hands. But Jiyan can no more leave Jinzhou undefended than Geshu Lin can leave Heishan unsettled.

**

On the twenty-ninth year, the fireworks bloom in the sky once again. Jiyan watches them go up with satisfaction, his spear in his hand and his comrades at his back. They’ve just finished cleaning up the Tacet Discords in this region, ready to turn back when the wind carries a faint breath to Jiyan: a lot grudging and a little wistful, the flash-heat of an infernal flame.

“I—I have to go back first,” Jiyan gasps, out of breath despite standing still.

“General?” “What’s wrong? We’ll go with you—” Alarmed, anxious voices speak over one another, having never seen their leader so frazzled.

“No. There’s nothing wrong. It’s—personal ” Jiyan hurriedly assures them. “I just need to meet someone.” Unable to wait a second longer, the azure form of a dragon soars into the skies, riding the wind to find its mate.

**

Seated on the rooftop peacefully gazing at the stars, Geshu Lin is startled when a dragon abruptly descends on him. He surges to his feet, a hand on the hilt of his blade, but Jiyan is already changing, his form folding down into a more familiar shape, dropping the last few feet into Geshu Lin’s arms.

“What the hell,” are the words Geshu Lin says upon seeing him for the first time in twenty-nine years, and then he says nothing at all, kissed until they are both breathless. When they finally part, Jiyan touches that beloved face, gaze desperately taking in the sight. His fingers trail through soft platinum strands, coming to rest on Geshu Lin’s shoulders.

“Will you stay?” he asks, heart suspended in uncertainty, because he’s not sure he can withstand another parting. Even his forbearance has a limit.

Geshu Lin stares up at him, his eyes bright. “Yeah,” he promises, “I’m here to stay,” and draws Jiyan into a gentle kiss.

On the twenty-ninth year, the King of Beasts puts aside his crown, and the Dragon Prince’s mate comes home.

al fine

Extra

“I wish for the peace and prosperity of Jinzhou,” Geshu Lin drawls boredly as he scribbles on his lantern, sitting on the roof.

Jiyan holds out his lantern out to a confused tiger. “Then you should write your wish on this one.” He smiles. “Because I already have everything I want right here.”

Geshu Lin’s face scrunches in disgust, looking as if he bit into a lemon. The dragon’s bright laughter is met with the tiger’s grumbling.

That night, two lanterns are sent up from the Desorock Base bearing the same wish for Jinzhou, their heart’s desire already at their side.

Chapter Text

The philosophical differences between Jiyan and Geshu Lin inadvertently reveal a small slice of Geshu Lin’s life. They’re arguing over a game of xiangqi that day when Geshu Lin harrumphs and says, “You remind me of someone back home. A pup that’s always running about underfoot.”

Jiyan brightens with interest on hearing Geshu Lin reminisce. The tiger is so cagey about his personal matters that Jiyan hoards every glimpse like gold. “How are we alike?”

Geshu Lin flicks him a look and advances his Chariot to capture, a move that reverses the position of Jiyan’s General from solid stability to imminently precarious. “He’s a dreamer like you,” he criticizes. “Always yapping about change with no sense of reality. I’m not saying you two are wrong in your censure. The beastkin Challenge tradition that grants dominion to those with combat prowess marginalizes and alienates those with intellect and talent, even directly stamping them out. It’s an inherently unfair system, a hotbed for coercion, harassment, and worse.” His lips lift in a sneer. “But do you two think you’re the only ones who have wanted to change it? Many a time, extraordinary individuals have gathered to abolish this system. Time and again, they have failed, the only product of their efforts the bloody death toll of a civil war, making the beastkin vulnerable prey to the rabid hyenas slavering at our borders. The Challenge system has stood for time immemorial, an embedded institution impossible to uproot—"

Geshu Lin’s diatribe continues on in that vein.

Jiyan listens quietly. Some of Geshu Lin’s criticisms are valid, but some of them he can’t agree with. It’s become more and more evident that Geshu Lin is someone of high position wherever he calls home, though whether it warrants that self-address of ben zuo remains debatable. His age is another unknown, but he has stated that it is greater than Jiyan’s. Thus, Geshu Lin’s experience also surpasses his.

Geshu Lin possesses intelligence, wisdom, experience, and is self-aware of these qualities. Consequently, getting him to consider a different viewpoint can be a tall order, depending on the topic. With him, Jiyan adheres to the wisdom of choosing his battles wisely.

This subject is one of great importance to Jiyan. He focuses on the board, noting down Geshu Lin’s points in the back of his mind.

Geshu Lin passes a glance over the game and slaps down his Chariot in imminent checkmate, victory all but sealed. “Why so quiet? Nothing to say for yourself?” he goads.

Jiyan lifts his eyes from the board, steadily holding Geshu Lin’s gaze.

“Every revolution begins with a single step,” he says softly.

He moves his Pawn a single space.

Geshu Lin goes still. Slowly, the tiger straightens from his slouch.

One move, and now he is the one in impending check. He deliberates for several minutes. However, certain of victory, he has left himself no avenue of retreat. He shifts a piece, the best he can make of the situation.

“Every grand undertaking begins with a dream.” Jiyan gives him a small smile. “What’s wrong with dreaming?”

Jiyan makes his move.

“That’s check,” Jiyan says gently. “Your General is dead.”

“It’s my loss,” Geshu Lin acknowledges, voice rough. “Jiyan, it’s not that simple.”

“I understand that; I do. But is it reality because we must accept it? I didn’t think you were one to submit to fate.”

Geshu Lin runs an agitated hand through his hair, ears flicking back and forth. “In overturning an established institution, upheaval is unavoidable. Radical reformation can only be carried out by one with tenacious passion and the heart to carry it through. Done halfway or incompetently would lead to utter ruination.”

Geshu Lin’s reply is too quick to come. He wants this change for the beastkin too, Jiyan thinks with dawning wonder. He’s been standing on this side with me all along; a flame that has been tempered.

“Then it is well that no revolution is achieved alone,” Jiyan says earnestly, and Geshu Lin is looking at him, listening. “If we cannot see it through, then we must trust in our successors to finish the task. Geshu Lin, is this not a cause worth fighting for? Is it not worth taking a chance?”

“And should it fail, who is it that will bear the cost?” Geshu Lin asks coldly.

“Success is built upon failure.” Jiyan’s voice goes soft. “Sometimes, it is built upon catastrophe. The failures you spoke of before, was there not a single worthwhile gain, however small?”

Geshu Lin is silent.

“The cost of failure cannot be borne. But one must also ask themselves this: can one bear the consequences of failing to change?”

**

In the wake of their debate, Geshu Lin is dour and silent, a cloud of gloom hanging over him as he broods over heavy thoughts. Hoping to improve his mood, Jiyan takes him to the cellar to choose a wine to enjoy with dinner.

“That’s the 50-year Royal Lotus,” Jinhsi identifies the baijiu being poured at a glance, noting the distinguishing golden filigree on the bottle. “You took Geshu Lin-xiansheng into the Royal Cellar?”

“Neither of us are drinkers.” At most, they have a glass to complement the food when the royal chef recommends a pairing. “The wine is just going to waste,” Jiyan justifies.

“Mmhm,” Jinhsi says.

“It’s a waste on you dragons; really not capable” Geshu Lin butts in, contributing his unwanted opinion. “Going around town, I haven’t seen a single one of your straight-laced kind that can hold your liquor.” He waves an attendant over. “Hey, bring me a bowl. How am I supposed to drink with this?” He spins the small cup between his fingers.

“Geshu Lin-xiansheng, that’s a prejudiced sentiment,” Jinhsi disagrees in a measured tone.

“Only if it’s not true. Or?” Geshu Lin’s smirk is one of patronizing disdain, an expression Jiyan believes he has specially cultivated for maximal potency in enraging people. “Going to prove me wrong?”

The now-familiar goad sparks knee-jerk irritation in those present.

Geshu Lin flicks his claws. “And drop the xiansheng. You lot only ever say it when you’re being disrespectful.”

Sanhua frowns. “Geshu Lin-xiansheng, please mind your words. It is you who are being disrespectful.”

Jiyan eyes the lounging tiger, the frost rimming the opposite side of the table. “Let’s all calm down. Geshu Lin, on account of my gifting you that bottle, let’s leave it at that, alright?”

Geshu Lin regards him with condescension, cheek propped on his fist. “You’re such a wet blanket, always playing the martyred peacemaker. I bet you’re no good at drinking either. If we threw you in as well, I could still drink you two siblings under the table.”

There is a loud clack as Jinhsi sets down her chopsticks. “Bring me a bowl.” She motions for an attendant to change out her cup, face set with determination.

“Jinhsi—” “My lady—”

“Now that I think about it, that’s probably still unfair,” Geshu Lin says pityingly. “Her Majesty is so dainty she wouldn’t count for anything. You might as well toss in the ice girl too. Maybe then you three would have a ghost of a chance at matching me.”

“…” “…”

**

Geshu Lin surveils the scene of the crime: three dragons face-down on the table. Jiyan has his head pillowed on his arm, mumbling something, while Jinhsi and Sanhua are tucked sweetly together, their cheeks rosy.

He… may have miscalculated. He had been in a foul temper, itching for a fight. He knew Jiyan would be Jinhsi’s sore point and had struck with precision, but he had underestimated how deep that wound ran. Sanhua and Jiyan had started off primarily trying to reduce Jinhsi’s consumption, but as the liquor flowed and the tiger’s mouth continued to run, their tempers were lit, rising to match Jinhsi’s impassioned resolve.

These three had gone above and beyond. They aren’t just drunk, they’re comatose, not responding to any level of stimuli. He had called, shaken, and twist-pinched Jiyan. Nothing. He doesn’t need to try Jinhsi and Sanhua to know they’re no better. If they weren’t dragons, he would have to send them to the hospital. As it is, they just need to sleep it off.

But this triad of personas isn’t just anyone. This situation… is a problem.

He licks his lips. At least the wine was delicious.

An attendant comes forward. “I’ll have Her Majesty brought b—Ah!” She shrieks, hand going to her face when a knife flies past. Cheek stinging, she draws her shaking hand away, expecting to see blood but finds none. Only a slight red mark had been left on her skin.

Geshu Lin has seen the devotion of the palace’s attendants, a forceful warning is needed to deter the rest. The guards, however, will be more troublesome. Geshu Lin gets to his feet as four imperial guards rush forward, hands on their hilts.

“Stand down!”

Before the leader finishes bellowing, Geshu Lin has moved, standing in the space between the guards and Jinhsi, sword drawn and pointed towards the ground.

The guards blades have unsheathed in response, trading nervous looks between them. Geshu Lin was so fast that none of them could follow his movement.

“Geshu Lin-xiansheng, what is the meaning of this? Even if you are a guest of His Highness, assaulting an imperial servant is a crime.”

“No one has been harmed yet.”

The guard gestures at the servant but is astonished to see the red line on her face has already faded.

“If you want it to stay that way, keep your distance.”

“What do you intend to do?” The guard demands.

“I don’t intend anything. Just call the people I ask for to come take care of Their Highnesses and Sanhua. Go call Yang—” Geshu Lin stops.

She’s no good… he’ll be scolded... The pink one is worse if she’s called in from time-off, it would be passive-aggressive not-scolding.

Danjin, he decides. She’s a good kid. Even better, her sword shows no mercy to those with ill intent and is exceptionally skilled. She could probably take down half the palace alone if it came down to it.

“Call Danjin here.” Hm. If he takes Jiyan to his room in this kind of hostile setting, it might be perceived as kidnapping. Geshu Lin briefly entertains the thought of playing a hostage scenario with the dragon as the beauty in distress. Most unfortunate, that it could easily deteriorate and compromise his vow. Reluctantly, he adds, “And Calcharo.”

“Xiansheng, though you are an honored guest, you do not have the authority to command or obstruct us,” the guard’s voice rises, incensed at being ordered by this freeloading nobody. Not only that, but having the audacity to question their loyalty and threaten them. “You would do well not to overstep your bounds.”

“Overstep?” Geshu Lin’s smile is mocking. “Of us, who is it that dines at this table with your King and Prince? Having witnessed this, if you still don’t understand the situation, then you’ve served these years in the palace in vain.”

The guards bristle, unable to refute yet boiling over with discontent, aggression carelessly leaking out into their auras. “There’s no need to bring the Midnight Rangers into this. Xiansheng doesn’t know but we have served Her Majesty for over a century.”

“I’ve seen your faces,” Geshu Lin acknowledges coolly. He even knows their names. “But I don’t know you.” He hasn’t spoken with them or worked with them as he has with the Rangers. “Girl,” he says to the trembling servant. “Leave, and take your colleagues with you.”

The attendant’s legs have gone soft at the guards’ indiscriminate intimidation but is galvanized into motion by Geshu Lin’s words. With the tiger guarding their masters so fiercely, the only danger here is the servants being caught in the friendly fire. Recognizing this, she calls out to the other attendants, hurrying out the door with them. As soon as the great doors close ponderously behind them, the dense oppression of Geshu Lin’s killing intent billows out into the room, an immense pressure that buckles the guards’ knees and has their hearts trembling.

The three at the table remain peacefully asleep, the tyrannical aura not disturbing a single hair on their heads.

“My patience wears thin,” the Beast King snarls, and every delicate item in the room rattles with the sound, threatening to shatter—the glasses on the table, the vases on their pedestals, the screens of the windows.

He does not tolerate their kind—valuing their pride more than their masters, delaying so long.

The tiger seethes with palpable bloodthirst, only restrained by a promise.

“Let’s have someone bring Ranger Danjin,” the second guard suggests urgently. This… this isn’t someone they can provoke. They had heard tales of Geshu Lin’s strength from the Midnight Rangers but had dismissed them as exaggerations—the tiger’s Forte was suppressed after all, the claims were unrealistic.

And… he’s never seen Geshu Lin like this. Going around with His Highness or Calcharo, Geshu Lin acts like an indolent loafer, only becoming more animated when he squabbles with the prince.

The one in front of them… isn’t the same person. He looks as if he could kill in cold blood and think nothing of it, a monstrous murderousness in his aura.

“Zhiyi,” the lead guard says to their youngest through gritted teeth. His shirt is soaked through with sweat but he refuses to lose face in front of his people. “Go get Ranger Danjin and Lieutenant General Calcharo. Her Majesty will be hearing of this,” he promises Geshu Lin.

Geshu Lin regards him steadily.

The guard is the first to look away, hand clenched to hide that it is shaking.

Arriving to see this standoff, Danjin’s face is a mask of confusion, but has her sword in hand, held at the ready. Good girl.

“Guard Lan, Geshu Lin-qianbei,” she greets politely, saluting them both. “Guard Zhiyi said I was needed?”

“It’s like this. Jiyan gifted me a few bottles of fine baijiu and I wanted to share them, let everyone have a taste.” Geshu Lin takes the initiative to explain. Danjin doesn’t need to know the details. He may be an unscrupulous person, but he vaguely understands that they shouldn’t corrupt a good child like this with their bad example of betting and drinking. “We misjudged how strong the wine was; Their Highnesses and Sanhua accidentally drank too much and fell asleep. They need to be brought back to their rooms to rest, but these people—”

The guards shiver as Geshu Lin’s cold gaze passes over them.

“—I don’t know them.”

Scrutinizing the three at the table—deeply unconscious, Danjin’s confusion clears.

“Sanhua-qianbei as well?” she exclaims in wonder.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have kept offering. She’s too polite,” Geshu Lin says vaguely.

“Sanhua-qianbei is very considerate,” Danjin agrees. “Qianbei, please be more careful with your words next time.”

“I will,” the person lying to children says seriously, leaving everyone else speechless.

Danjin turns to the imperial guards. “Guard Lan and sirs, I hope you can forgive Geshu Lin-qianbei. He’s just a worrywart, concerned for their Highnesses because he’s not familiar with the Imperial Guard,” she explains earnestly. “Please allow me to apologize on his behalf.” She bows deeply.

Geshu Lin: “…”

This brat. He isn’t sure whether he’s more appalled at having a child apologize for him or for having his concerns dismissed as being a worrywart.

As she mollifies the guards, Danjin throws Geshu Lin a surreptitious wink.

She does understand. Ah, forget it. There’s enough tension between the imperial guards and the rangers without him stirring the pot. The leaders work in harmony, Taoqi being the Commander of the Imperial Guards, but some friction is unavoidable between the rank and file.

“Please allow me to see to Her Highness and Sanhua,” Danjin is saying. The guards know her, but she politely presents them her Ranger plaque, which grants her sanction for a high level of independent action, second only to Calcharo.

Guard Lan examines the plaque fastidiously before giving his agreement.

Thanking him, Danjin goes to surveil Jinhsi and Sanhua’s positions. After thinking it over, she lifts Jinhsi into her arms in a bridal carry and carefully slings Sanhua over her shoulder like a potato sack.

Geshu Lin’s lips twitch. This image… is really too beautiful. It’s a shame he can’t preserve it to share with others.

“Danjin,” he calls before she crosses the threshold.

“Don’t worry, qianbei. I’ll keep watch over Her Majesty and Sanhua until they both wake.”

Geshu Lin feels an inkling of guilt. She’ll be standing guard until late morning at least. “Mm. I’ve troubled you.”

“No problem,” she gives him a mischievous smile. “But next time, the snacks are on you!”

“You got it.”

Calcharo arrives soon after. He pauses in the doorway, taking in the tableau: the imperial guards; Geshu Lin between them and the table, sword drawn but pointed down in non-aggressive active guard; Jiyan fast asleep; three settings on the table and a few empty bottles of wine rolling about.

“Ah,” Calcharo says in understanding.

“I got them drunk,” Geshu Lin admits honestly. “Past drunk.”

“Guard Zhiyi informed me that Danjin was called in.”

“This… gentleman insisted,” Guard Lan spits out, along with a laundry list of Geshu Lin’s offenses.

Calcharo clarifies a few details such as the servant’s condition before addressing Guard Lan’s loudest complaint. “As a guest, Geshu Lin-xiansheng does not have the prerogative to command the imperial guard,” Calcharo concurs.

“That’s right he—”

“However,” Calcharo cuts him off firmly. “Prince Jiyan has made his regard for Geshu Lin-xiansheng clear; that he is to be afforded the highest hospitality in Jinzhou—for receiving someone of equivalent status to the prince himself.”

Jiyan did? Geshu Lin wonders. Since when?

Guard Lan grimaces at the chastisement. However abrasive Geshu Lin could be, they had handled it wrongly. Geshu Lin’s expressed concern was for their Highnesses’ safety and his actions were consistent with his claim. He had only stood guard, making no move to harm after the initial warning, but they had confronted instead of persuading, escalated rather than diffusing.  

“I’ll take things from here, Guard Lan. Thank you for your hard work.”

“…We’ll take our leave.” Sullenly, the guards shuffle out.

Geshu Lin sheathes his sword, the two of them circling the table to Jiyan. “I am not blameless in this, the actions I took were not proper, but you still let them off too lightly.”

“Between Commander Taoqi and I, who would you prefer to be rebuked by?”

Geshu Lin laughs, canines glinting in the light. “Point taken.”

Standing by Jiyan’s chair, Geshu Lin on the other side, Calcharo tries calling to him.

“General. General Jiyan.”

Jiyan breathes softly against the table.

“Don’t bother. He didn’t even twitch when I pinched him.”

“…Tiger pinch?”

Geshu Lin’s “pinch” isn’t the same as everyone else’s pinch.

Feline ears flick in irritation at the moniker coined by the Rangers. Bunch of crybabies, the lot of them. “Yeah.”

Calcharo nods, questions answered. In an unconscious state, a skilled martial artist should still instinctively react to danger, and Geshu Lin’s Tiger Pinch could rouse the dead. For Jiyan to have no reaction, his instincts have been taken out, leaving him defenseless.

He looks expectantly at Geshu Lin… who looks expectantly at Calcharo.

Geshu Lin gestures at Jiyan. “Why aren’t you moving?”

“General Jiyan is… frivolous when inebriated.”

“Frivolous?” What would that even look like on Jiyan? Geshu Lin can’t imagine it.

“Clingy,” Calcharo says more directly. “He’ll hug anyone in range. Because of the tail, his range is large,” he explains.

“…”

Calcharo tilts his head. “Should I carry him?”

“…I’ll do it.”

When Geshu Lin picks him up, Jiyan curls into him, hand clutching the collar of his robes and face nuzzling into his neck. Geshu Lin breathes shallowly as they make their way through the empty corridors, trying not to take in the alluring scent of the warm dragon in his arms.

“Where are the servants?” With the personality of the two royal siblings, they have loyal attendants and guards in abundance. They should be swarmed by now with protests and fussing.

“I sent them away for their safety,” Calcharo answers. Geshu Lin exhibits no signs of intoxication, seemingly sober but he suspects there may be some degree of inebriation. Under normal circumstances, Geshu Lin’s control is unquestionable. Currently, better safe than sorry. “If you need anything, I’ll summon them for you.”

Not noticing the look Geshu Lin slants at him, Calcharo continues, “Commander Taoqi wouldn’t let those guards near Her Majesty and General Jiyan if they weren’t trustworthy.”

“No one is incorruptible; you just need the right leverage,” Geshu Lin says. “Jinzhou’s big three out of commission; there are many hours until noon tomorrow; it’s a rare opportunity.”

“Geshu Lin-daren managed an incredible feat today,” Calcharo agrees dryly. Jinzhou is at peace, but avarice is ever present. There had been one perilous incident when an assassin guild had managed to incapacitate Jiyan and Sanhua concurrently. Geshu Lin had taken out all three without trying. Of course, this could only be accomplished with the dragons’ enthusiastic participation, voluntarily jumping into the pit Geshu Lin had unintentionally dug.

Geshu Lin snorts.

“You don’t think they’ll wake before noon?” Calcharo questions. The physiology of dragons should have no trouble metabolizing a basic toxin like alcohol, but Geshu Lin should also know this.

“…They were very determined.”

As for why they were so determined and who was the instigator, this does not need to be said.

The following silence is reproachful.

“Could you see to it that Danjin has an extra day off? I’ll consider it two favors owed, one for Danjin and one for this.”

“Nothing is owed,” Calcharo declines. “General is always fair; I will be appropriately compensated. Danjin as well—she will get that day off and more.”

If Calcharo won’t accept a favor…

Geshu Lin grimaces. “Sorry,” he says. There are few things shittier than being called in during your time off to clean up the mess someone else made.

Calcharo shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Calcharo may not mind, but he does, Geshu Lin realizes. “Should you ever need it, you still have that favor,” he decides.

Calcharo doesn’t refuse this time. Arriving at Jiyan’s bedchamber, he holds the door open for Geshu Lin.

“You’re not coming in?”

“I’ll guard outside. If you need anything, let me know.”

That gives Geshu Lin pause. Despite his rough demeanor, Calcharo is a meticulous person. As such, his actions accurately reflect Jiyan’s opinion.

Jiyan trusts him this much?

Geshu Lin looks down. The person in his arms snuffles and clings tighter to him. He sighs. “I need your help removing this.”

“Tail,” Calcharo reminds him. “I might get pulled in.”

If both of them fall into the dragon’s grasp, unable to escape, Calcharo would be trapped in bed with them. Such a situation would indeed be uncomfortable for Calcharo, Geshu Lin considers.

“Don’t feel obligated.”

In the end, through Calcharo’s heroic efforts and the substitution of a pillow, they manage to detach Jiyan from Geshu Lin and tuck him safely into bed.

Geshu Lin is lightly rebuked for drawing his weapon on the guards and attendant that night, but when the tiger leaves her office, there is a secret smile on Jinhsi’s lips.

Chapter Text

Jiyan had hoped to hide his embarrassing condition, but ultimately isn’t able to elude Geshu Lin’s observation.

“What’s wrong with you?” Geshu Lin asks when Jiyan shifts in his seat for the second time during dinner.

“Nothing,” Jiyan says, at the same time that Jinhsi sells him out with an insinuating, “It’s that time of the year for him.”

Geshu Lin’s eyebrows go up.

“Not that time of year,” Jiyan hurriedly denies.

“Hm? What time do you mean?” Geshu Lin smirks.

Jinhsi clears her throat, but Jiyan suspects she is hiding an identical smirk behind her hand. “Xiongzhang always molts during this season. It’s worse for him this year.”

Jiyan glares eye daggers at her, praying that Geshu Lin doesn’t pick up on her meaningful tone.

Blithely dodging his gaze, Jinhsi continues, “I’ve been trying to convince him to take a trip to the Hongzhen Village on Mount Firmament, an island territory, for water therapy. They have lovely hot springs that do wonders in alleviating the scale irritation.”

Feline ears perk with interest. “Hot springs?”

“Mmhm. It’s a snowy mountain, not ideal for our peoples but I’m sure that won’t be a problem for Geshu Lin-xiansheng.” Jinhsi looks at Jiyan. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if he couldn’t experience this marvel of Jinzhou?”

Sanhua provides a timely assist. “Hongzhen’s hot springs eggs are a unique delicacy. Their shaved ice desserts and silver lotus pastries are also quite the treat.”

Geshu Lin’s gaze takes on a fervent gleam.

“The Tacet Discords—” Jiyan protests.

“Are at the nadir of their activity after the convergence of the Dual Moons and will remain so for another week,” Jinhsi interrupts. “It has always been thus and even should something happen, I am here. As is Sanhua, Taoqi, Calcharo and everyone else.”

Jiyan is grateful for her good intentions, but he doesn’t want anyone to witness him molting, skin blotchy and peeling, especially Geshu Lin. And Jinhsi probably wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if she knew who Geshu Lin was, Jiyan thinks guiltily, but Geshu Lin had asked him to keep his identity a secret.

“Calcharo can take Geshu Lin to sightsee Hongzhen.”

“Medicine,” Geshu Lin reminds him.

Shit.

Sensing imminent victory, Jinhsi asks, “Would Geshu Lin-xiansheng like Jiyan-xiongzhang to accompany you to Hongzhen?” There is a cunning curl to her painted lips.

“Yeah,” Geshu Lin answers casually.

“…”

**

Preferring to travel light, Jiyan brings a minimal retinue with him to Hongzhen, the bare minimum for travelling royalty.

The mountain climate too frigid for Xuehua to withstand, Jiyan bids her goodbye at Frosting Harbor, leaving her in the trustworthy hands of the port’s stablemaster. They cross the sea of fog by ferry. On arriving at the Luminous Shore, the mist parts to reveal the majestic splendor of Mount Firmament, the crimson arch of Loong’s crest bearing Jue’s visage wreathed in clouds.

Hongzhen’s mayor, Xinyi, greets them at the town gates. When Jiyan introduces Geshu Lin as his companion, Xinyi welcomes him warmly and has one of her assistants give him a tour of the town while they discuss business. It’s mostly just a courtesy visit, Xinyi giving him an update of major affairs in the region over tea.

“Thank you for stopping by, Your Highness,” Xinyi says at the end of their talk. “It’s getting late and the distance to Lianyan Inn is not small; I won’t keep you any longer. If you’ll follow me, we have horses prepared for your trip.”

Ah.

“I am grateful for your efforts, Xinyi-nushi, but there might be a problem…”

**

The horses of Hongzhen are a hardy breed, thriving in the mountain’s arctic climate, but they are civilian horses. Their reaction to Geshu Lin is even more dramatic than the Midnight Rangers’ war mounts. Jiyan sees two horses go into a dead faint before he hurriedly ushers the tiger away from the stables.

Understandably stunned, Mayor Xinyi offers her apologies. After Jiyan assures her that no offence was taken and that the problem definitively was not the horses, she suggests another option: dog sledding.

“The sled teams are composed of wolfdogs so they should be less,” she searches for an appropriate word, “affected by Geshu Lin-xiansheng.”

“Perhaps,” Jiyan says politely, though he is rather doubtful. “How do dogs usually react to you?” he asks Geshu Lin.

“Variable. They don’t always flee on sight.”

That does not sound promising.

The wolfdogs are made of sterner stuff, the majority of them standing their ground. They do, however, whine very pitifully, cringing with their heads held low and their tails between their legs.

Seeing this scene, Jiyan is unable to subject them to Geshu Lin’s presence. It would be an act of animal cruelty…

“I think it best we go by foot. It’s what I had planned to begin with.” Jiyan had known the horses would not tolerate Geshu Lin, and the travel distance, though not ideal, is manageable.

“You planned to walk? With that cold-blooded constitution of yours?” Geshu Lin gives Jiyan’s bundled-up form a look of disdain.

Prepared for the weather, Jiyan is layered in woolen robes, a heavy cloak with a fur-lined collar around his shoulders. In contrast, Geshu Lin has made no wardrobe accommodations, wearing his standard dark, short-sleeved jacket. As if he doesn’t feel the cold, he stands leisurely with his arms folded across his chest.

“Don’t be stupid. You take a horse. It’s nice weather for a stroll; I’ll go at my own pace and meet you at the inn.”

It has gotten colder since their arrival, the wind picking up and the perpetual snow of Mount Firmament turned sleeting.

“…This is nice weather?”

“Are those pretty eyes of yours there for decoration?” Geshu Lin flicks his ears at him and smacks Jiyan’s arm with his tail.

With the heavy layers he is wearing, Jiyan only feels a muted pressure, but it sends a jolt through him, as if the soft touch had brushed over his heart.

Xinyi and the two guards with them have their faces turned slightly away, unable to watch this scene of flaunting affection.

He… He forgot to tell Geshu Lin not to touch people with his tail. Geshu Lin had never done it again in public, so it had slipped his mind, buried beneath the rest of the tiger’s absurdity.

“Are you ignoring me?” Geshu Lin growls, and lashes his tail at Jiyan again—why is he doing that?!

“Geshu Lin!” Jiyan hisses, moving to block the tail—just to stop it. He only realizes what he has done when he feels warm, silky soft fur in his palm.

It’s—it’s the tail. He has Geshu Lin’s tail gripped in his hand. All the blood drains from his face.

A heavy silence falls upon them.

The tiger has gone completely still, his unblinking gaze fixed on Jiyan.

Jiyan doesn’t even dare to breathe.

Geshu Lin uncrosses his arms. Two slow stalking steps forward and he is up in Jiyan’s space. “Jiyan,” he says, his deep voice smooth as satin, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to block you,” Jiyan explains. He would release the tiger’s tail, but some animal instinct tells him it would be more dangerous to do so.

“Were you.”

Jiyan swallows. He nods. “Yes.”

Geshu Lin lays a hand on Jiyan’s face, five sharp points resting lightly against his skin.  “Pretty prince,” he purrs. “You have a tiger by the tail.” His lips curve into a mocking smile. “Afraid to let go?”

Afraid? He’s not afraid, he’s terrified. Why isn’t anyone moving? Their Prince is in crisis, he needs an intervention yesterday.

“Um,” Jiyan says.

The hand slides down. Having a premonition that something inappropriate, or possibly lethal, or both, is about to occur, Jiyan quickly grabs it, three claws against his neck. “Geshu Lin, we’re in public,” he reminds him urgently.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you grabbed my tail.”

“Please have some consideration for the people around you,” Jiyan pleads. He doesn’t want to know what kind of expression is on Xinyi and the guards’ faces right now.

“Consideration?” The tail curls coyly around Jiyan’s palm. “Who does ben zuo have to consider?”

Geshu Lin is still smiling. It’s a little bit terrifying, and a little bit something else.

He can’t feel the cold anymore.

“Let. Go,” Geshu Lin demands.

Permission given, Jiyan immediately releases the tail. Soft fur strokes over his palm as the tail slips away.

“So,” the tiger’s voice dips low, “you’re saying you want to settle this in private?”

The rumors are going to go wild, but Jiyan can only answer: “Yes.”

Geshu Lin doesn’t move.

“…Please.”

Finally, Geshu Lin takes a step back, allowing Jiyan to breathe again.

“Since your eyes aren’t working, I’ll enlighten you: I’m a Snow Tiger,” Geshu Lin says, nonchalantly continuing the conversation from before.

Jiyan stares blankly, trying to recall what they were talking about.

Xinyi clears her throat, facing them again. “I also recommend Your Highness travel on horseback. The weather looks to be worsening,” she hints.

…They were talking about transportation. Geshu Lin called this nice weather. A Snow Tiger… this is his natural habitat?

“I can have a guide show Geshu Lin-xiansheng the way,” Xinyi offers.

Geshu Lin gives her a curious look. “Do Hongzhen residents have innate cold resistance?”

“Xiansheng caught on quickly. Our bloodline has a mutation that those in the city do not. It allows us to comfortably reside in colder environments.”

“That’s settled then.”

“I would like to go with you,” Jiyan says quietly.

Geshu Lin regards him coldly. “Do as you like,” he says. “I’m not going to care about you anymore. If you freeze to death, on your own head be it.” Turning on his heel, he leaves with a snap of his tail, going towards the gate leading out of the town.

“Your Highness, it’s not good to be too stubborn when it comes to your partner,” Xinyi counsels wisely.

One of the guards nods, contributing his advice. “When my missus is upset, it’s best to give her some space.”

They’ve got the wrong idea. Geshu Lin is definitely no missus.

“I just can’t leave him alone,” Jiyan says helplessly, watching Geshu Lin’s retreating figure, the head of snow-white hair standing out amongst the crowd. Mount Firmament is a stable territory but there will be trouble if one goes looking for it.

Unaware of Jiyan’s worries, Xinyi and the guard trade a commiserating look.

Ah, young love.

Xinyi sighs. “At least you had the foresight to bring our Hongzhen people with you.” She addresses the two guards, one who had spoken earlier and the other flanking Jiyan’s side. “Bing’ge, Qin’ge, it’s been some time.”

The guards give the mayor their formal greetings, bowing deeply.

“Watch over His Highness well.”

“Yes, Lady Xinyi,” the guards chorus.

“Your Highness, please take care. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said the weather is taking a turn for the worse.”

“I will, Xinyi-nushi. Thank you for your concern.”

The rest of the prince’s entourage has gone ahead to tidy their quarters, bringing the luggage along to the inn. Their current group consists only of Geshu Lin, himself, and the two guards.

Their destination, Lianyan Inn, is the exclusive hot springs resort the royal family frequents, favored by nobles and the affluent. The mineral springs there are sublime and the remote location excellent for privacy, well worth the moderate travel distance from town.

A moderate travel distance on horseback. On foot, it’s a lengthier trek.

Bundled in so many layers, Jiyan is still shivering as he makes his way through the snow. As Xinyi had predicted, the temperature has dropped further. More daunting, is the harsh wind that penetrates through the layers of his clothing, chilling him to the bone. The only upside is that he isn’t itching all over anymore because he can’t feel anything.

“Your Highness, would you like another hand warmer?” Bing’ge inquires, anxious on seeing the unnatural pallor of Jiyan’s skin.

“The two I have are plenty.” Jiyan can stand a bit of cold, and the guards need the warmers as well. Resistance isn’t immunity, though that doesn’t seem to be the case for the beast stalking ahead of them. “Let’s just go quickly.”

Qin’ge hovers on his other side. “Your Highness, I could lend you my cloak. Please take it,” he urges, “your lips are blue.”

“That won—”

“You.”

Jiyan blinks in startlement, interrupted by the rude call from up ahead. Geshu Lin has stopped in his tracks, looking back at them. He curls his finger at Jiyan. “Come here.”

Qin’ge bristles. Bing’ge having witnessed these two together before, grabs his arm in warning and shakes his head.

Jiyan goes to Geshu Lin. “What is it?”

Geshu Lin observes Jiyan’s miserably shivering figure with indifference.

“You dragons, do you have some hangup about tails?”

“It’s a cultural difference,” Jiyan hurries to explain now that he is given the opportunity. “In Jinzhou, you don’t touch someone else’s tail in public or touch someone with your tail; it’s just not done.”

Geshu Lin has his head tilted in puzzlement. “Why? It’s just another appendage, no different from tapping someone on the shoulder or bumping them with your arm.”

Jiyan is briefly stumped. “It’s just—not appropriate.” And with the way Geshu Lin had reacted it’s different in one way at least—when it comes to grabbing and… probably pulling? A provocative action, as it is for dragonkin, though whether it provokes something sexy or murderous in beastkin he’s not entirely sure.

“You dragons are so prudish.”

“And you beastkin are too immodest.” Jiyan apologizes in his heart for the prejudiced statement; he just needs a retort. He doubts the tiger is representative of their race—Geshu Lin is more like an alien species of his own.

Geshu Lin rolls his eyes.

Jiyan is relieved to see that Geshu Lin’s temper has waned. He felt guilty for grabbing the tiger’s tail but hadn’t known how to make amends.

“That’s what was going on in the Armory with those two guards? I thought they were having a fit of vapors because I licked you.”

Bing’ge, (former) thirty-year resident of Hongzhen, trips on even ground and faceplants in the snow.

“I’m fine!” Bing’ge calls out quickly as Qin’ge helps him up. Both the guards faces are reddish, avidly evading eye contact.

“Or both, I guess,” Geshu Lin amends dryly.

“It can’t be normal for beastkin to lick people’s wounds.”

“It’s normal for cubs and family. Everyone else,” Geshu Lin makes a vague motion with his hand. “It depends on the people involved.”

“Huh,” Jiyan says, astonished. Having stayed still too long, he’s suddenly wracked by a powerful shiver.

Geshu Lin hooks Jiyan’s elbow, drawing him into his side without an inch of space between them. He radiates heat like a bonfire, and Jiyan wants nothing more than to plaster himself against the tiger to leech his warmth.

“If you’re cold, just stay by my side,” Geshu Lin mutters.

“Mm.” Jiyan ducks his head to hide a smile. “Thanks.”

They make it to the inn without further incident, attendants and inn staff rushing out to fuss over them as soon as they appear at the gates. They’re ushered into the lobby to warm by the braziers with a cup of green tea and a small, steamed bun confectionary. The dough is fluffy and soft, sweetened with brown sugar and stuffed with chestnut paste filling, made using the steam of the hot springs.

Defrosted and re-energized by the sweet treat, Jiyan and Geshu Lin follow the attendant to the private villa reserved for them. The suite is spacious, consisting of a living room, dining room, small study, two bedrooms, and full bath designed in the traditional style with low tables and woven mat floors. A small sitting area borders the living room, leading to glass sliding doors that open out onto a wooden deck. Beyond is a beautiful garden with a stone-lined hot springs bath, large enough to swim in. A bamboo fence encloses the courtyard providing privacy.

After brewing a pot of tea for them and reminding them when dinner will be served in their rooms, the attendant discreetly withdraws.

“Go ahead and hop in the springs,” Geshu Lin says, sipping his tea. “You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”

Thawed out, Jiyan’s scale irritation has returned with a vengeance. “I didn’t think I was that obvious,” he says wryly.

“You’re not, but you’re doing a fine impression of a stone buddha with how hard you’re repressing yourself.” Geshu Lin waves him on. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

“I’ll go first then.”

Jiyan detours to the study where he had the medicine pots and apothecary chest set up and starts the brews for Geshu Lin’s medications. After a quick shower in the indoor bath, he twists his hair into a low bun and goes out in his silk inner robes.

Passing through the living room where Geshu Lin is still leisurely drinking tea, he goes to open the sliding glass doors and is hit with a draft of wintry air. Shivering, he hurriedly closes the door, drops his robe onto a lounge chair, and climbs into the steaming springs. The relief is immediate, intense heat warming him to the core. He finds a corner to settle in, sighing in pleasure as his head lolls back on the ledge. The milky white water, rich with minerals, softens and soothes his irritated skin, lapping gently under his chin.

Geshu Lin joins him in the springs a short while later.

Jiyan doesn’t open his eyes until a few seconds after the initial splash. Geshu Lin’s hair is twisted back with a golden claw clip that matches his earrings.

Pretty, Jiyan thinks, and then realizes that Geshu Lin is making straight for him. Trepidation rises as Geshu Lin gets closer and closer until he is crowding Jiyan against the wall.

“Jiyan,” the tiger purrs, claws planted on either side of Jiyan’s shoulders, trapping him in his arms. “Shall we settle that account now?”

Jiyan jumps when something slinks over his thigh—the tiger’s tail. He gulps. Mustering his audacity, he decides to find out the answer once and for all. Reaching down, he grabs the fuzzy tail, gripping it tight.

A deep sound reverberates through the tiger’s chest, his gaze going molten with heat—

**

Greatly satisfied with the reparations he received, Geshu Lin exits the water first, leaving the languorous dragon to steep in the bath.

“Don’t fall asleep. Dinner is in half an hour,” Geshu Lin reminds him.

Jiyan makes a vague sound of assent without opening his eyes, his spine having been turned to liquid. After a while, he reluctantly rouses himself and swims over to the side. Bracing himself for the few steps through the freezing night air to the lounge chair where his clothes are, he notices a thick towel folded next to his inner robes.

In his haste, Jiyan had forgotten to bring a towel. It must have been Geshu Lin. He looks through the glass sliding doors, but the tiger isn’t in the living room. Rising from the water, Jiyan quickly goes to the chair and wraps the towel around himself. The fluffy cotton is full length and gloriously warm—tucked under it was a copper hand warmer.

Geshu Lin… this person…

Lips tilting up, Jiyan secures the towel around himself. Taking the warmer in hand and holding it close, he picks up his robes and goes into the suite.

**

Lanyan Inn’s customary welcome dinner is a lavish affair, an elegant array of beautifully plated dishes illustrating the colors and flavors of the autumn season, every element chosen with thoughtful consideration. The courses showcase the regional specialties, the highlights being the snow crab prepared three ways, freshly caught from the Luminous Shore. The essence of autumn is incorporated in the form of seasonal ingredients, bright persimmons in the appetizer and palate cleansers, a chestnut rice course, and red autumn leaves used to wrap the grilled meat course and flavor the simmered dish and clear soup. The selection is laid out on exquisite, handcrafted porcelain and lacquerware reflecting the warm seasonal theme.

It’s a feast for the eyes and senses, the height of haute cuisine on the continent, but Geshu Lin regards it with glumness. The finest, freshly sourced ingredients also means plenty of wild mountain greens and root vegetables. Their omnipresence in both larger and tiny dishes makes it impossible for him to sneak them all over to Jiyan’s plates. The tiger’s gaze drifts to the meat dishes on the other side of the table.

Jiyan’s mind is in a rare state of laziness, but an impending sense of peril for his delightful seafood servings galvanizes it back into lagging motion.

How had he coaxed Jinhsi in the past?

“The local greens have a refreshing flavor, very tasty,” Jiyan cajoles. “Here, try this one.” Leaning over the table, he plucks up a small bite from the appetizer plate, guarding it with a hand beneath and brings it in front of Geshu Lin’s mouth. “It has a light sweetness, just what you like.”

Meeting the golden feline gaze forcefully knocks the lassitude from Jiyan’s mind, but having already committed to the action, he is unable to withdraw.

Geshu Lin doesn’t leave him simmering in a fluster. With reluctance written all over his face, he takes the bite in his mouth, seeming not to notice anything unusual about Jiyan’s actions.

Acting casual, Jiyan sits back. “How is it?”

“It’s alright.” Geshu Lin surveils his plates. He glances up at Jiyan, seeming… expectant?

Having already stepped onto this path, it should be fine to stay the course, Jiyan reasons.

“…Have a taste of this one then, it has roasted chestnuts and sweet pumpkin in a savory broth.”

An impressive number of vegetables still manages to migrate over to Jiyan’s side but nearly half of the greens on Geshu Lin’s plates are cleared by himself and only one crab leg is stolen from him. Jiyan is satisfied with this outcome, rewarding Geshu Lin with a portion of his dessert, passing over half of the chestnut cake. “I can’t finish it,” Jiyan claims.

Geshu Lin isn’t polite with him, happily polishing off the plate.

Having had a long day, Jiyan decocts Geshu Lin’s medications for him to take and retires early.

**

Jiyan wakes up itching fiercely, his skin reddened in patches everywhere. Subsequently, he spends the entire next day wallowing in the springs with a tiger swimming around him. To their delight, the helpful inn staff provide floating bamboo trays for them to enjoy an unending stream of refreshments in the bath; fresh squeezed juices and ice fruit milks, an assortment of bite size snacks and desserts.

Jiyan feels much improved the day after, well enough to show Geshu Lin around town. After a quick morning soak, they make the trip to Hongzhen, Bing’ge and Qing’ge trailing them at a discreet distance. Despite leaving the inn early, they don’t arrive in town until nearly lunchtime.

“This won’t do.” Geshu Lin eyes Jiyan. The dragon isn’t shivering anymore but he is still clinging rather pitifully to his arm.

“I’m fine,” Jiyan assures him.

 “Listen first,” Geshu Lin chides. “There’s something we can try. Let’s go to the kennels again.”

Curious, Jiyan agrees. At the sled station, Geshu Lin goes to talk to the kennel master, who agreeably gathers a group of wolf-dogs in one of the enclosures for them.

“The kennel master said these are his toughest hounds. Go play with them.”

“Play with them? What for?”

“I was thinking of having you be an intermediary. Get the dogs familiar with you. Then, after lunch, we can introduce my scent to them. I’ll scent mark you and you go feed them.”

“Scent mark?” The pitch of Jiyan’s voice goes slightly high.

What’s more embarrassing is that he can see Bing’ge and Qing’ge behind Geshu Lin, staring at the sky and pretending to be deaf.

Cheeks feeling warm, Jiyan clears his throat. “You’re thinking this will acclimate them to you?”

“If the animal is smart, once they know I mean them no harm, they won’t be fearful and will listen well.”

It’s worth a try. Qing’ge helpfully goes to get a bag of treats from the kennel master. Taking it from him, Jiyan sends the two guards to save seats for them at Spring’s Taste for lunch and goes to pet the dogs. The hounds are initially wary, darting nervous glances at the tiger standing just outside the fence.

A quarter hour later, Jiyan has a crowd of dogs snuffling his hands and begging him for treats, even rolling over for belly rubs.

“Why am I not surprised you’re good with animals?” Geshu Lin says amusedly, forearms leaned on the railing.

Jiyan distracts the dogs that tense up at Geshu Lin’s voice with head rubs. He shrugs. “It’s always been like this for me.”

The hot spring slow-cooking at Spring’s Taste is worthy of its reputation, the natural flavors of the food brought out by the mineral waters. Following a satisfying lunch, they stop by the butcher for fresh steaks and return to the kennels.

“You’re going to mark me here?” Jiyan asks, gaze darting around the enclosure.

“Your face is too thin. I’m not going to do much and there’s no one here to see,” Geshu Lin remarks, stepping in close.

“Your face is too thick.” What Geshu Lin said is true though. Jiyan doesn’t know when he left, but the kennel master who had led them here is nowhere to be seen. “Where did Bing’ge and Qing’ge go?”

“I told them to go wait around the corner.”

Obeying Geshu Lin without informing Jiyan… do those two still remember who their General is?

“Hold still.” Geshu Lin steps in close, effectively distracting Jiyan from his thoughts. He lays a hand on the angle of Jiyan’s jaw. Leisurely, he nuzzles his way down Jiyan’s neck to the dip between his collarbones, then drags his nose over his clavicles, breath hot against his skin. Jiyan’s throat bobs, standing stiffly as Geshu Lin takes Jiyan’s hands and rubs their wrists together, one side at a time. As he does so, Jiyan feels something fuzzy slink over his waist and then slip down to trail over his tail, and it’s absolutely on purpose this time; Geshu Lin knows what he’s doing. The stroke of soft fur over his scales elicits a full body shudder that Jiyan doesn’t quite manage to suppress.

“Geshu Lin,” Jiyan hisses.

“Hm?” Geshu Lin smirks at him, tail drawing away to swish behind him. “All done.” He waves a hand. “Go on then.”

Utterly shameless. At least no one saw them.

Glaring, Jiyan snatches the bag of steaks. He turns to find the pack of dogs staring at them with wide eyes.

“…”

Could this be considered feeding dogs dog food?

**

Handing out the steaks to the pack is otherwise uneventful. Following that, Jiyan gives Geshu Lin a tour of the hidden gems in Hongzhen, small shops and stalls frequented by locals. When Geshu Lin shows some interest in the local handicrafts, some of the finest in Jinzhou, Jiyan takes him to peruse the wares. They’re polishing off their lotus pastries when they arrive in front of the spa Jinhsi had highly recommended, newly built after the last time Jiyan had visited Hongzhen years ago.

While they stand outside the doors, regarding the nondescript building with trepidation, Jiyan surreptitiously scratches his arm, having started to feel itchy again since their noontime meal.

Catching the small movement, Geshu Lin says, “Let’s go in.” His face is set with the grim determination of a man facing down an army. “Jinhsi said they have special treatments for molting season. It’ll do you some good.”

Jiyan grimaces. “Alright.” He turns to the two guards. “Bing’ge, Qing’ge, since it’ll be a while, why don’t you two go visit your families?” He interrupts their automatic protests. “You know this is the reason I brought you two with me. Anyways, it’ll just be in town. Go on.”

“Thank you, General,” they say together.

“If you would like, we can go by the butcher’s when we return,” Bing’ge adds thoughtfully. “Uncle Zou usually has leftover scraps at end of day.”

“For me to feed the dogs?” Geshu Lin touches his chin. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Thus settled, they part ways.

Squaring their shoulders, Geshu Lin and Jiyan enter the building. At the reception desk, Jiyan purchases the head-to-toe spa package Jinhsi had recommended.

For both of them.

“Jiyan,” Geshu Lin growls from behind him, a menacing beastly rumble that has the receptionist inching his chair back nervously. “What the hell do I need a salt and sugar body polish and body butter wrap for? Just the massage for me,” he says to the receptionist.

Jiyan gives the receptionist a reassuring smile. He turns to Geshu Lin. “Keep me company? Please.”

Geshu Lin sneers. “Need me to hold your hand, Prince?”

Jiyan not-so-sneakily slips his hand into Geshu Lin’s. The action is bold but his head lowers bashfully.

“…”

**

Geshu Lin flat out refuses the facial mask. “You have scales on your face. I don’t,” he says, and opts for extending his massage. “And change the massage from hot stone to Ashiatsu for me. They never manage enough pressure.”

As Geshu Lin makes his changes, Jiyan skims the catalogue and finds what he is looking for. While paying the bill, he furtively adds a fur grooming treatment to Geshu Lin’s regimen.

**

Jiyan emerges from the spa a new man dragon. Every inch of him from the top of his scalp to the tips of his toes has been massaged into blissful relaxation. He had been doubtful of the rest of the package, but the body butter wrap had done wonders in soothing the pre-molt skin irritation.

Bing’ge and Qin’ge are staring at them seeming dazzled. Jiyan can’t blame them. A light breeze sways Geshu Lin’s long locks which glow like strands of pure moonlight, luxuriously luscious with a glossy sheen after the almond oil and honey hair masque. The fur of his ears and tail is beautifully silky and downy soft, looking so touchable that Jiyan’s palms itch.

Geshu Lin’s expression is unamused but there is a mellow droop at the corners of his eyes. Jiyan had been appalled when the masseuse that treated Geshu Lin had stood on his back and walked on him, using her heels and balls of her feet to knead his muscles. She had stopped after five minutes, confirmed with Geshu Lin that he could barely feel it, and left the room to find another massage therapist. The strapping middle aged lady that had subsequently come in had wrung some truly obscene sounds from Geshu Lin with her feet.

Geshu Lin flicks his (extra fluffy) tail at Jiyan.

“Care to explain?” he growls.

“The scale oil rub isn’t useful for you, so I had it replaced,” Jiyan says righteously.

Geshu Lin glares at him with suspicion. Muttering darkly to himself, he stomps off. He stops after a few steps. “Aren’t you coming?”

Smiling, Jiyan hurries to his side.

**

Their trick works. One by one, the hounds slink over to take the meat scraps from Geshu Lin’s hands. With Jiyan’s assistance, a few even let Geshu Lin pet their heads, cautiously wagging their tails. The transportation problem is thus resolved.

They take two dog sleds back to the inn, a swift trip.

**

Not long after, Geshu Lin’s bloodthirst disease acts up again. They enquire with Xinyi who is happy to provide some targets to point Geshu Lin at. While slaying a few troublemaking Tacet Discords and Fractsidus, they stumble upon a young lady determined to perform the locals’ Rite of Offering to Jue, but who is unable to do it herself. They take on the task in her stead. Along the way, Jiyan shares the origin and local tales of their deity Jue, the Sentinel of Time.

At the fourth site between the waterfalls, Bing’ge clears his throat. “Your Highness, since it’s almost noon, why don’t you leave this one to me and Qin’ge? The Tianqu Tree is just past the top of this waterfall, I think it would be worth showing Geshu Lin-xiansheng and a nice place to take lunch,” he suggests. Having anticipated a day out, the inn had packed meals for them into two layered food boxes.

At Jiyan’s hesitation, Qin’ge assures, “Please leave this to us, Your Highness. We’ll finish up here and bring the dog sleds around.”

“Alright. Geshu Lin and I will do the next one after that. You two can break for lunch then.”

Thus agreed, Geshu Lin and Jiyan take one of the food boxes, using the regional leap devices to reach the top of the falls. The Tianqu Tree is a magnificent sight with its canopy of gorgeous scarlet foliage, a vibrant contrast to the surrounding white snowscape. A clear blue pond surrounds the majestic trunk, vivid red leaves scattered picturesquely over the water’s surface.

“Nice spot for a picnic,” Geshu Lin says, admiring the sight. “You have a story for this one too?”

“The Tianqu Tree is considered a guardian of Hongzhen but its stories have been lost to time,” Jiyan explains as they settle beneath the canopy, spreading out a blue blanket thoughtfully provided by the inn. Jiyan settles on one side of the blanket, hunching his shoulders and drawing his cloak tight against the chill.

Geshu Lin flicks a glance at him. “What are you being so polite for? Come here.”

“Mm.” Going over, Jiyan huddles against Geshu Lin’s side.

They unpack the layers: poached chicken with ginger scallion sauce accompanied by rice and a selection of marinated side dishes.

A maple leaf drifts down and is caught between two claws before it lands on the food. Geshu Lin turns the leaf between his fingers, looking out at the peaceful scene. “It’s been a long time since ben zuo has lived such leisurely days,” he murmurs, mind seeming far away.

“Do you dislike it?”

Geshu Lin blinks. “Dislike? No. It’s not bad,” he says slowly, gaze lingering on the person beside him. “It’s not bad at all.”

**

Near the end of the week, the layer to be molted begins to separate in patches, the constant prickling sensation making Jiyan too miserable to go out, immersing himself in the springs for the slight relief it provides.

Geshu Lin goes into town on his own that morning. Jiyan is glum to see him go, but he is poor company at present, irritable and wretched.

Before lunchtime, Geshu Lin has returned, coming out onto the deck with a leather bag in hand.

“Why are you back already?” Jiyan asks, surprised. He swims to the side of the springs when Geshu Lin waves him over.

Crouching by the bath, Geshu Lin shows him his spoils.

“Why else? You’re such a sorry sight that I went to the spa to see if they had any recommendations. Red Algae Skin Mist for the areas that are peeling. Aloe Vera Gel and Milk and Honey Cream to soothe irritation of the new skin.” Putting them back into the bag, he takes the towel from the lounge chair and holds it out. “Come out. I’ll help you put it on.”

It’s a titillating offer, but Jiyan is reluctant. Nothing soothes as well as the springs.

“It’s not good to soak too long. I brought back dim sum from Yue Pavilion, didn’t you say you wanted to try it? You can hop back into the springs after moisturizing and eating.”

There’s dim sum? Hesitation discarded, he rises from the water and takes the towel, wrapping it around himself. Following Geshu Lin into the living room, he sees several bottles lined up on the table.

“Wuming baijiu and Hongzhen plum wine,” Jiyan reads off the labels.

Geshu Lin smirks. “World’s oldest anesthetic: alcohol. That’s not an invitation to get wasted, by the way. I hate dealing with drunks.”

**

Jiyan wakes up with Geshu Lin in his bed. This isn’t unusual these days. What’s abnormal is the thick fluffy tail in his arms that he is hugging. He’s itchy again, but the pair of lazy feline eyes staring into his takes precedence.

“Good morning,” Jiyan greets him tentatively.

“You don’t remember anything you did yesterday, do you.”

Jiyan hurriedly searches his memory. After Geshu Lin helped him with the lotions, he had felt significantly better; the dim sum was delicious; they had hotpot for dinner. Then, he went into the hot springs with a bottle of plum wine and—that’s it. Everything after that is shrouded in dense, impenetrable fog.

He doesn’t even remember getting out of the springs. He just has a no-context memory of lying on the living room floor next to Geshu Lin wanting to smack him for something, but too lazy to move his limbs. After considering this conundrum seriously, he had whapped Geshu Lin with his tail.

“See?” Geshu Lin crowed.

“It’s pretty convenient,” Jiyan admitted.

Which explains not a single thing.

“We had hotpot?” Jiyan tries.

Geshu Lin growls. “You’re not allowed to have alcohol in the hot springs again. Ever.”

“Why not?” Jiyan complains. “What did I even do?”

Geshu Lin looks pointedly at the tail in Jiyan’s arms.

It’s really soft.

“Still not letting go?”

When Jiyan doesn’t move, a slow smile spreads across Geshu Lin’s face. It has too many teeth in it, fangs really, and Jiyan has developed a most unfortunate conditioned reaction to it—

**

Jiyan got worked up for nothing. He’s in as miserable a condition as yesterday and can’t stand to be touched for long, nearly every inch of skin either smarting with irritation or new and raw.

He’s doubly miserable now. He must look as pitiful as he feels because Geshu Lin nudges him gently and makes an offer he hasn’t before.

“Your hair is a mess. Sit up, I’ll do it for you.”

Geshu Lin doing these domestic things is both nice and strange, and makes him want something fierce. After combing out Jiyan’s hair and putting it up in a bun, the day goes much as the one prior. He alternates between soaking in the springs and coming out to moisturize his skin. Peeling layers begin to come off in sheets. Geshu Lin helps him with the areas hard to reach himself on his back, spritzing and removing the shedding skin with tweezers in small patches. He does it one at a time to minimize the discomfort, followed with a layer of aloe vera.

It’s all very unsexy, and, frankly, kind of gross.

“Sorry,” Jiyan mumbles.

“What for?”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Jiyan,” Geshu Lin says from where he sits behind him, sounding bemused, “do I seem like a fair-weather friend to you?”

“…No.”

“Then don’t be stupid.” Geshu Lin tosses a small iridescent shedded sheet into the trash.

Jiyan ducks his head. Feeling awkward, he scratches the edges of an itchy patch on his elbow.

Geshu Lin smacks his hand. “Don’t pick at it. That’s not ready to come off yet.” He puts a round object in Jiyan’s palm. “Play with this if you need to keep your hands busy.”

“A snowglobe?” It’s an intricate one of Hongzhen with detailed carvings of the falls and pools. “I’m not a child,” Jiyan remembers to protest. Though he can’t deny the mystery is an effective distraction. He rolls the crystal in his hands, watching delicate glittering snowflakes fall within the miniature scene. “For Verina?”

“Mm.” Another thin sheet is removed and discarded.

Seeing the black leather satchel the souvenir came out of near his knee, Jiyan pulls it over to investigate. There’s two more snowglobes inside, different from the one in his hands. He sets them next to each other on the table. The Tianqu Tree one should be for Danjin, but he can’t think of who the other Hongzhen one is for. There are embroidered handkerchiefs for the young ladies and Hongzhen plum wine for the older adults. After counting through the people Geshu Lin has grown close to, this single snowglobe is still unaccounted for.

Jiyan hazards a guess. “For the pup back home?”

“If he’s still alive,” Geshu Lin replies absently, focused on his task.

Jiyan’s breath stills, back going rigid.

Noticing Jiyan’s abnormality, Geshu Lin consoles him, “He won’t die so easily.”

Why is he the one being consoled? For Geshu Lin to even want to bring something back, this person must be dear to him. Can he really be so calm?

At the same time, Jiyan understands a little.

“We had plans in place for this contingency. If he made it to the border, he’s alive. If not, there’s no rush to avenge his death.” Geshu Lin’s tone is calm and pragmatic.

This is a reflection of how brutal life in Heishan is.

Geshu Lin stops his work when Jiyan half turns to him, needing to see his face. “And… if your enemies have him?” he asks cautiously, because it’s impossible for Geshu Lin not to have considered the possibility.

Geshu Lin’s gaze turns frightfully cold, lips curling into a sneer. “Take him alive? They don’t have the ability.” The declaration comes out in a snarl, ears pinned back into his hair, a vicious kind of pride in his voice.

He does care. He cares a lot, Jiyan realizes. But the calm isn’t feigned either. Geshu Lin isn’t worried. If the pup is alive, he’s alive; if he’s dead, he’s dead. What’s the point of worrying? What’s the point of getting angry when he can’t do anything about it? When his Forte is back, then, there will be a reckoning.

It reminds him that Geshu Lin must leave, but it also eases his heart in a way, knowing that Geshu Lin has such an important, personal reason he must return, and knowing there are people waiting for him. Seeing how effortlessly Geshu Lin had drawn people to him in his short time in Jinzhou, Jiyan doesn’t believe for a second that this pup is the only person who is loyal to the tiger king, who will brave the wind and waves to stand with him in Heishan.

Jiyan lays his hand over Geshu Lin’s. “I’ve commissioned the Black Coast to obtain information on the situation in Heishan. I’ll let you know as soon as I receive it.”

Geshu Lin glances down at their tangled hands and shakes his head slightly, the brief flare of temper already gone. “It’s fine if you don’t receive any news. When Heishan has internal turmoil, unless they’ve lost their minds, the party in power will always try to suppress that information. If our neighbors learn that Heishan is vulnerable, they won’t be able to resist attacking.”

On the Warring Continent of Wuhan, warfare is simply a part of life.

“Heishan only releases information when we want to make an announcement. For example, the coronation of a new king,” Geshu Lin says wryly.

This coincides with the little intelligence he has been able to gather on Heishan.

“What’s the pup’s name?”

Geshu Lin tilts his head. “Why ask? You’ll never meet him.”

“I’d still like to know.”

With a shrug, Geshu Lin tells him, “Xiangli Yao.”

Jiyan memorizes the name. He swallows and asks the question that has been plaguing him. “Is—is he yours?”

Geshu Lin stares at him in blank incomprehension for a few seconds. When he realizes Jiyan’s meaning, he scoffs a laugh, “Of course not, I hate kids.” He flicks Jiyan’s tail. “What nonsense are you thinking?”

Jiyan relaxes. His gaze moves to the snowglobes. This person’s words and actions don’t seem to match up. “When you spoke of this pup before, it sounded like he is an adult.”

Geshu Lin smirks. “He is.”

“…Why are you giving him a child’s toy?”

“What does it matter? He’ll like whatever ben zuo deigns to give him.”

As he thought, this person is just a bully…

“Face forward,” Geshu Lin says. “I’m almost done. Put those back where you found them.”

Jiyan turns around. After having a swathe of shed skin removed and the tender new skin covered with a layer of soothing aloe vera, he feels well enough for his curiosity to be piqued. “I didn’t think you were the type to buy souvenirs,” he prompts. In fact, from what he knows of Geshu Lin, it’s very strange of him to do so.

“It’s called courtesy.”

“You don’t do courtesy,” Jiyan says doubtfully. As he is putting the items back, he senses something off about the satchel. The space inside doesn’t correspond to the outer dimensions, a discrepancy of about a finger’s length. A false bottom? He feels around surreptitiously.

“I’m done,” Geshu Lin tells him with feigned calm. “Go have a soak. Stop snooping about in my things.”

Jiyan has already snagged a seam with his claws and worked it open, snagging two items from the hidden compartment before Geshu Lin snatches the satchel away from him.

“Jiyan,” the tiger growls, low and dangerous. “Give. Them. Back.”

Ignoring the unsheathed claws brandished at him, Jiyan examines the items. They’re weapon pouches with subtle, elegant embroidery. It’s the silk scent sachet he finds inside, more elaborately embroidered, that sparks his memory. “Are these yuyong hebao?” He asks excitedly. Yuyong hebao are ornamented purses specially made for the imperial palace once a year to be awarded by the sovereign, an old tradition of the Warring Continent. Most nations’ rulers would gift silk fragrance pouches, but Heishan was more practical, gifting weapon pouches containing a symbolic fragrance sachet. At the end of the year, the Beast King would bestow these to his highest generals, courtiers, or ministers, an extraordinary mark of imperial favor.

When Jiyan looks up, Geshu Lin has a fierce scowl on his face seeming… very embarrassed.

“I just find it interesting because we don’t have this custom,” Jiyan explains quickly. Also, he finds Geshu Lin doing this terribly cute. “I’ve only read about it in history textbooks.”

“…It’s just habit.”

The tiger’s ears flick agitatedly, but he doesn’t stop Jiyan from taking the satchel from him this time. Laying them out, the hebao match the number of souvenirs. Just like the souvenirs, the embroidery design of each pouch is unique and individualized. “You’re using the souvenirs to replace the pouches. You weren’t going to gift the yuyong hebao.” Geshu Lin having them made is symbolic, a sign of his regard. Jiyan feels warmed through on seeing how many of his closest people in Jinzhou Geshu Lin holds in such high esteem.

It’s puzzling that there is only one for Geshu Lin’s people in Heishan though, and then it isn’t. Geshu Lin had been betrayed… it means Xiangli Yao is the one person he unconditionally trusts. That there is even one is surprising. He thought Geshu Lin didn’t believe in unconditional anything; the tiger’s trust issues are deeper than the sea.

“I have yet to retake the throne.” As Geshu Lin is now, he is just a deposed king. “Giving them would be no more than a joke,” he says, lips twisting in self-deprecation.

Jiyan takes Geshu Lin’s hand, careful of the razor-sharp claws. “It’s just a sign of huangsang’s regard; why not give it?” He tries out the title on a whim and is surprised at how effective it is in mollifying the tiger’s pride.

“What huangsang,” Geshu Lin mutters, but the bunched tension in his shoulders has relaxed by half, the claws retracting with a quiet snick. “You didn’t hear a word I said.”

“In Jinzhou, it’s customary to give small gifts at the end of the year to friends and family,” Jiyan says, thinking quickly. Geshu Lin will have left already so there should be less objection. “I can give the yuyong hebao then and say it’s from us both.” He perks up when Geshu Lin doesn’t immediately reject this. “The Beast King gives these with seven pearls and eight jewels inside,” or so Jiyan had read, and Geshu Lin’s continued silence confirms this is correct.

If Geshu Lin doesn’t want them to be recognized as yuyong hebao…

“We could have the pearls and jewels made into bracelets for the ladies. It might work for Lingyang too, maybe an anklet?”

“…Girls don’t like wearing the same jewelry as someone else. They’ll each have to be customized.”

So Geshu Lin did want to give the hebao; it must be something meaningful to him. Perhaps a final farewell, or an expression of sentiments he won’t show. Jiyan moves closer, slipping into Geshu Lin’s lap. “We can pay a visit to the jeweler’s when we get back. For Calcharo…”

Jewelry is a no. There’s nothing practical that can be made with pearls and gems—

“Just give it.” Geshu Lin’s hands rest on Jiyan’s hips. “The meaning is enough.” Calcharo will get the gist of what it means without needing it to be spelled out for him.

Jiyan puts his arms around Geshu Lin’s neck. “I think you’re missing one though, huangsang.”

Geshu Lin snorts coldly. “What, ben zuo’s personal favor isn’t good enough for you?”

The dragon’s tail, which had been winding its way around Geshu Lin’s waist, droops despondently. “Oh… there’s really nothing for me?”

Geshu Lin shifts restlessly.

“…I already gave it,” he mutters.

Already …? When did he—

Straightening in realization, Jiyan feels around in his hair and pulls out a pin, long locks tumbling down his back in a cascade. The hairpin is made of a rich cherry wood, delicate plum blossoms carved into one end, simple but elegant. Under him, Geshu Lin has gone so tense that he may as well have turned to stone.

“It’s not much.” Geshu Lin has a grimace on his face, glaring at the pin as if he can’t stand to see it in Jiyan’s hands. “I’ll get you something better.” He moves to snatch the pin.

Jiyan blocks him, clutching the hairpin to his chest. “It’s mine.” There is only one reason Geshu Lin would be so defensive about it. “You made it for me,” he says, feeling giddy, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Ben zuo hasn’t had the time to do such frivolous things in years,” Geshu Lin says, and it sounds apologetic. He had discarded many previous attempts, but even this pin doesn’t meet his satisfaction. Who knows how many times he had nearly tossed it in the fire.

Reassured that Geshu Lin won’t try to take it from him again, Jiyan looks at the hairpin, touching the beautifully carved plum blossoms. He leans in for a kiss, a bright smile on his face. “I love it. The pin is lovely.”

Another kiss, and the rigid tension in Geshu Lin begins to ease up; it’s rare to see Jiyan smile like this. Geshu Lin pulls him in for the next kiss, but before his hands can start to wander, Jiyan pats him on the chest.

“Let me up. I’ll be right back.”

Grumbling, Geshu Lin lets him go.

Jiyan goes into the bedroom and comes back with a comb in hand. Settling on the floor in front of Geshu Lin, he brushes a light kiss over the corner of Geshu Lin’s scowl. “Would huangsang do me the honor of putting it on for me?”

“Stop calling me huangsang, you brat. I’m not going to do whatever you want just because you say it.” Geshu Lin crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to take the comb and hairpin. “Ben zuo already gave it. Do it yourself,” he growls, tail flicking irritably, but to Jiyan it sounds like coax me.

Indeed, after some cajolery, Geshu Lin indulges him. The way Geshu Lin’s fingers linger in his hair makes Jiyan think Geshu Lin actually likes playing with the long strands. This person just loves to be difficult.

“What’s in your hand?” Geshu Lin asks as he finishes up, sliding the pin through an elaborate bun. He would have preferred a half-updo for Jiyan, but the dragon’s back is still too tender.

Jiyan had a third object in his hand when he came out of the bedroom which he had kept out of Geshu Lin’s sight.

“Something for me?” Geshu Lin is curious what item has Jiyan fidgeting nervously.

“I don’t know if it’ll be to your tastes,” Jiyan hedges. “I was going to give it to you later.” He had been thinking of a way to present the gift, but Geshu Lin giving him the hairpin had provided him with an opportunity.

Geshu Lin pats his waist in a wordless request.

The dragon’s tail drags with reluctance as he shifts around to face Geshu Lin. The box Jiyan hands over is made of carved ebony wood, thin and slightly longer than the length of his palm.

Geshu Lin opens the box, setting aside the cover. Resting on a bed of azure silk is a necklace. He lifts it out by the fine black metal chain to examine more closely, laying the green tooth-shaped pendant in the palm of his hand. It’s not a single piece of pure jade but instead painted over with imperial jade that has been crushed into powder. Incredibly wasteful, unless the material beneath is more valuable. He can hear the anxious rustle of the dragon’s tail over the woven mat but, unlike Geshu Lin, Jiyan doesn’t offer to take the item back.

Of course he wouldn’t; it’s priceless.

“Geshu Lin!” Jiyan protests, the words garbled when Geshu Lin grabs him by the jaw, thumb pressed into the hinge.

“Open,” Geshu Lin demands. When Jiyan’s mouth stays stubbornly closed, his tone becomes stern. “Be good,” he says. “Open your mouth.”

Jiyan isn’t sure why he obeys, but he does.

The lower row of teeth has a fang missing halfway back on the right.

When Geshu Lin releases him, Jiyan rubs his jaw warily.

Holding it in his palm, Geshu Lin can sense the power of the artifact. “What kind of enchantment requires the blood and bone of a dragon?”

Jiyan stiffens. “Blood?”

Geshu Lin cuts him a look. “Just because Calcharo can’t smell it, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Why do you have to be so abnormal,” Jiyan mutters. “The pendant has a protection enchantment. It’ll activate on its own if needed.”

Geshu Lin is silent, lids lowered and lips pursed as he stares at the pendant.

“Will you wear it?” Jiyan asks tentatively. Having someone’s tooth hanging from your neck may be too unpleasant. “You can wear it under your shirt, or I can have it encased in—”

“Shut up, idiot.” Geshu Lin holds the necklace out to him. “Put it on for me,” he says gruffly.

Jiyan takes the necklace, hesitating. But even if Geshu Lin doesn’t like it, he still needs him to wear it. There is enough power in the charm to heal Geshu Lin from the brink of death one time.

Jiyan yelps when he is suddenly scooped up and settled back in Geshu Lin’s lap.

“Really stupid,” Geshu Lin admonishes. “How could I not like it?” He lifts his chin, the King of Beasts baring his throat to Jiyan in a gesture of absolute trust, yielding to him.

Jiyan swallows. His hands feel unsteady as he lifts the chain to Geshu Lin’s neck, clasping it at the back.

“How does it look?” Geshu Lin asks.

“…It looks good.” The necklace suits him well, better than Jiyan could have hoped.

“I know,” the tiger says, purring in his throat, and leans in for a kiss.