Work Text:
"I have something for you," Yizhi says. They are in the corridor, she is in her wheelchair and he is in the too-sleek robes of chancellor. He hurriedly adds onto the end: "My Empress."
"What are they?"
"Compression stockings." Upon seeing her confusion, Yizhi clears his throat and elaborates. "They help with blood circulation, especially after surgery. I thought maybe..."
Zetian takes the package in her hands, carefully avoiding where his own fingers clutch it. Frustration builds up inside of her; he really can't touch her, not even when he's giving her a medical item.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
Yizhi can't meet her eyes, but he can smile if only softly. "May my Empress live ten thousand years."
Qin Zheng frowns when he first sees them on her. He makes no effort to try and stop her from wearing them, even when Yizhi goes, but when his hands find her legs they run at the band, glide across the fabric and stroke. Taking them off her becomes a ritual in bed.