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When Shen Song finally gathers his wits, he finds himself being pushed down onto a chair in his room. The last thing he remembers is holding Qin-er’s scarf as the temple burnt behind him, he assumes the others must have guided him home some way or another.
The room is silent save for the clinking of bottles as Gong Sunli rummages around his cabinets, only broken when Gong Sunli informs him that he has sent their companion, Zhan Mao’er, to rest. He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and extends a shaky hand across the table to the teacups on the table. He flips two cups over gingerly and moves to pick up the adjacent teapot.
His hands shake as he is struck by an acute feeling of loss. He has fulfilled his duty of solving the string of murders and killed the man responsible for the elimination of his entire village, yet he cannot find it in himself to feel happy or even relieved.
As the adrenaline leaves his body, Shen Song feels empty as he weighs his options. Should he be appeased and go back to his old job as a chef or continue the seemingly never ending fight to get true justice for his family and village. He only breaks out of his reverie when he feels the pot being lifted out of his hands and looks down to see tepid water spilling over the edge of his cup and dripping off the edge of the table.
“Chef, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”
He jumps as his companion’s voice rings next to his ear. Shen Song doesn’t know how he failed to notice Gongsun Li’s approach. He feels himself being turned towards the source of the voice and his arms and sleeves lifted as Gongsun Li scrutinises his hands.
“Well, at least you’ve managed to not hurt yourself any further… although you really should go to bed. Any thinking should be done after a good night’s rest.”
Seemingly satisfied after his inspection, Gongsun Li retreats again and Shen Song can’t help but miss the proximity. He feels as if he has been yet again unmoored. Perhaps he has spent so long with his companion clinging to him, he no longer knows how to breathe without him by his side. The thought made his breath hitch, he did not know what to do with this revelation.
Before he can do anything reckless, he hears a stool being dragged closer to him and a familiar presence invading his personal space once more. He let out a shaky breath at the realisation that he had unknowingly let the man encroach on his being to the extent that no one else had done before. He unconsciously parts his legs to allow Gongsun Li to fit between them, and he is surprised to find that it did not feel like an invasion but as natural as breathing.
He startles as he feels a sting on his jaw and he can’t help but flinch.
“Don’t move!” At this, Shen Song stills, finally lifting his gaze. “I’m sorry if it hurts, but we have to make sure your wound heals properly.”
It is clear Gongsun Li has never had to tend to even his own needs, as evident by the grimace on his face while he clumsily applies medication to the cut on his chin. It would have been comical if it were not so endearing. Everywhere he touches makes Shen Song feel like he’s been lit on fire and he feels his scalp go numb.
His eyes follow the slide of tongue across lips as Gongsun Li licks his lips in concentration and Shen Song suddenly feels like he has front row seats to his own undoing. He drops his gaze hurriedly, desperate to look anywhere other than his companion’s face when he sees a scattering of purple and yellow peeking from where Gongsun Li’s sleeve falls on outstretched hand.
He feels his fingers circle his companion’s wrist before tugging his sleeve further down his arm to reveal angry purple blooming across snow white skin. He isn’t ready for the anger boiling beneath his skin as he yanks the arm closer for inspection. He wants to demand to know who has hurt his person, but the speed at which Gongsun Li averts his eyes stops him. He feels his heart sink as he realises that the person who has hurt Gongsun Li was undoubtedly him.
“Hey now, there’s no need for that,” Gongsun Li laughs. He uses his free hand to pull the hand fisted at Shen Song’s side and maneuvers the hand on his wrist into his lap. Shen Song can only watch as his fingers are gently loosened from where his fingernails have dug crescents into his palm. He doesn’t understand how Gongsun Li can still be so gentle to the man responsible for throwing him across a room and the bruises on his arm and probably his whole back.
He feels Gongsun Li’s thumb rub soothing circles into his palm. “You know, I’ve never been hit by anyone before,” he remarks casually. “My dad has only hit me once, and even he didn’t expect that I didn’t dodge his blow. My meals were so lavish for the whole week after!”
Shen Song winces as the guilt he feels amplifies tenfold. The bruises were clearly painful and something a spoiled young master would not be used to. Suddenly their proximity feels constricting and he wants to pull away. He feels like he should have stayed on that table, he can’t seem to stop hurting the people closest to him. As if preventing him from fleeing, the grip around his hand tightens.
“Shen Song, I was not brought up to bear pain,” Gongsun Li’s voice is quiet and steady. “But I have still chosen to chase after you.” There is a twinkle in his eyes as he cups the hand to his cheek, laughing.
“Well, I’ve spent so long chasing after you,” his voice is bright and confident as he gazes at Shen Song through his lashes. “Do you think I've finally caught up?”
For a minute, Shen Song is floored by the transparency of his companion who has so easily laid his heart bare. He is not oblivious to the weight of this vulnerability nor the question his companion is asking.
The tenderness and care with which his companion treats him feels like an anchor tethering him to their cruel world. Gongsun Li has never hidden his affections but this is his first request for the space Shen Song has not readily offered. Shen Song does not know how to even begin deciphering the nature of his feelings but he knows this; to hesitate now would be an insult to the magnitude of his companion’s unwavering devotion.
And so, for the first time in a long time, Shen Song acts before he thinks. He closes the distance between them and covers Gongsun Li’s lips with his own. He feels his companion’s grin widen and his lips part in a carefree laugh which makes Shen Song’s heart soar.
A hand threads through the hairs on his nape and a warm chest presses up against his. He feels like a tree that has finally grown roots and a lightness in his body like a feather floating on the ocean. With a relieved sigh, he surrenders to an all encompassing darkness.