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Human interests take precedence over everything else.
Sometimes, in the silence that followed the ring of gunshots, the breeze would pick up and blow strongly, cutting his face with the chilly night air. Then, and if only for a few instants, it would take away the rusty smell of blood that his face mask did a poor job of covering. The other officers were struggling to keep the nausea at bay, and several rounds of them had already been replaced as the night went on.
Behind him, he heard Seraing tell the others that Colonel Lu could tune out all distractions thanks to his sharp focus and unmovable commitment. He was trying to sell it as a positive trait to admire and replicate, but Lu Feng knew that wouldn’t deter his subordinates from thinking there was something not right with him. If he’d cared, he might have ruminated over it, trying to find an explanation himself. Instead, he raised his gun and, after considering the wind’s direction, he pierced the air once more with a single, certain gunshot. The body hit the ground with an underwhelming thud, and behind it someone let out a piercing scream.
He lowered his gaze to switch the cartridge. More and more people who had passed the screenings were joining the rally at the district’s entrance, and their voices rose in protest again. The wind persisted, and he felt drawn to follow its direction and look behind him.
As if pulled by an irresistible magnet, his eyes spotted him before anything else. Framed by dozens of violent signs and angry, sorrow-stricken faces, An Zhe’s calm demeanor remained a stark contrast. Above, the green aurora bathed him in its otherworldly, soft gleam.
Just a while ago, he’d noticed An Zhe hadn’t left after passing his own screening, and he still found his attitude puzzling. No things about human behaviour normally surprised him, so he had no choice but to keep harbouring doubts about An Zhe’s humanity. Every time he started to think he’d cracked the code on such a harmless-looking man, he’d go ahead and do another incomprehensible thing, just like now.
He belongs up there more than he does down here, Lu Feng reflected, and was slightly shocked by his own thoughts.
So much for this sharp focus, he then told himself, annoyed. He had to forcibly tear away his gaze from An Zhe, who had been tenderly holding it in return, unknowingly relieving the waves of darkness that’d been silently crashing against his soul since the night had begun.
No matter how he looked at it, An Zhe didn’t belong in this place, but there was no other place he could have come from. Sometimes he looked like he’d come from a dream, and Lu Feng would then shake his head at the absurdity of his otherwise always logical thoughts.
Nonsense.
The person who had screamed passed the testing, but begged to be killed instead. He didn’t comply.
“Next.”
He would never say it out loud, but he was grateful for Dr. Ji’s timely intervention. Even after Howard’s death, the tensions remained high, and when he saw An Zhe again, he realised how weary he had actually become. Never during his career in the Trial Court had he seen such carnage, and he had been the perpetrator of it all. Maybe to an outsider, Colonel Lu’s retreat was a sign that he finally feared for his own life, but only a moment before he’d been willing to die to fulfill his duties. Was it out in the indifferent wilderness or in the confines of a city that despised him, he had always lived with his life on the line.
Before, he’d heard the protesters shout at him, asking when he would finally gain a conscience, when he would finally feel guilty for his crimes. Now, after he was proved right by the genetic test, only the wind howled his way. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to resent them for thinking of him as a psychopathic murderer. In their eyes, both probably acted the same.
However, the ideas people had of him were none of his concern. He worked for humanity, and responded only to its survival.
Instead, and much more worryingly, his decision to step back for the night was caused by self-indulgence. He craved the silence. The calmness that he had otherwise only found in An Zhe’s eyes. If he hadn’t been granted timid glimpses of it as the night went on, he might have stayed. Maybe retreating would reward him with a semblance of his real wish. He nodded at Seraing and walked past An Zhe, resisting the urge to search for solace in him again.
“Colonel,” An Zhe called.
And then he called breathlessly again, and again. “Please wait.”
Thankfully, albeit unexplainably, An Zhe insisted. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t give the coat to Seraing. What did he want from a man like himself? Favours? Protection? Money? Lu Feng would kill him regardless if he showed any signs of being infected. Was he somehow blinded by a strange fanaticism? Over the years, he’d noticed the occasional lingering gaze of women and men that seemed awestruck or mystified by his presence. All of these were normal behaviours, expected even, but in An Zhe’s tired expression he found no desires, no ambitions, no expectations.
“Where are you going?,” An Zhe asked him, and in the question he found instead the most honest concern. Facing the cold, relentless wind, and under the hateful stares of the angry mobs, this man was worried about him. Lu Feng handed him the coat again.
He’d keep him safe and take him home.
Growing up and during his training to become a judge of the Trial Court, Lu Feng had rarely slept by himself. He used to share the room with other children and, later, with other trainees. He was only afforded his own room once he became an officer. Later, during his expeditions to the abyss, he got used to resting among his peers while remaining aware of his surroundings, much like a prey animal. Despite all this, Lu Feng was a man who had never shared his bed, and for that reason An Zhe’s peaceful breathing was loud and disrupting.
He’d been expecting all types of things. Since all his other theories couldn’t hold ground, he’d started believing An Zhe was then looking for physical release. While getting ready for bed in the common bathroom, he’d offered him his own toothbrush. Was he that dense or extremely sneaky? He was normally able to see through the most innocent of acts, but he couldn’t make up his mind this time. Still, wouldn’t this have also explained the doll, his insistence to stay with him, the softness in his gaze? It would have, but that would have also made things too predictable, and Lu Feng had begun to catch up. Nothing ever was as simple as it seemed with An Zhe. Or maybe things were exactly the most simple way they could be, and his was the issue of overcomplicating everything.
As if to purposefully mock him and prove him wrong, once in bed An Zhe fell asleep with a naturality that left him, a man who was rarely fazed by anything, strangely bewildered. Even though he hadn’t rested for more than twenty-four hours now, sleep kept eluding him. He closed his eyes and focused on synchronizing his own breathing with An Zhe’s, if only so that he could ignore it better.
It must’ve worked, because he startled awake later at the faint click of a door. He checked the time, only an hour had passed. Beside him, the bed was warm, but empty. He got uncharacteristically irritated. He didn’t trust An Zhe, and now he had dared to escape his sight, had even managed to do it successfully. He blamed his exhaustion for not waking up earlier and gazed out the window absentmindedly.
Tomorrow, he’d have to work along with a leaderless CDA and the Lighthouse to investigate the root of the attacks on the dispersers, try to solve the issue, clean the districts and keep everyone safe. It was a monumental task he would have to take over with the help of people who most likely resented him deeply now. Still, the idea wasn’t as upsetting as the bad feeling he had about the whole ordeal. Such a catastrophic failure should have wiped out the entire Outer City in a few hours, and he wasn’t sure why this particular district had been spared. He started preparing for the worst case scenario, mentally reviewing all protocols previously agreed upon to ensure the safety of the Northern base.
It’d been why he’d suggested An Zhe to enroll for a job in the Main City. He could have just said nothing. He wasn’t used to interfering in other people’s lives, he certainly didn’t make the suggestion to anyone else. Even so, the idea of An Zhe getting trapped in the Outer City left a bad taste in his mouth. He told himself he still needed to solve the mystery of An Zhe’s true intentions, and he needed him alive for that. He looked at his side of the bed once more, and frowned. A few minutes had passed and he still wasn’t back.
He got out of bed, alert as if it were midday, and walked out into the hallway. For a few moments, everything seemed quiet. The flickery emergency lamps buzzed and emphasised the shadows in the windowless corridor, giving the building a vacant feeling. He headed down the hallway, in the direction of the water fountains. Soon, he started hearing faint voices that became more agitated the closer he got. The carpet muted his steps, so his presence went unnoticed behind the corner. Once the voices became intelligible enough, he stopped to listen.
“Why do you keep acting as if I mean nothing to you? I was always the closest person to you. You’re the one who’s making me do this, you know?”
It was a man’s voice, one he’d heard once before and, just like that time, it was dripping with conceit and barely contained aggression. In contrast, Lu Feng had to make an effort to hear the other person’s quiet answer.
“You don't mean anything to me anymore. I’m going now.” An Zhe turned his back to the man and started walking away from him, but he quickly got ahead, blocking his path. Lu Feng felt tempted to intervene, but a strange and selfish desire to know more about An Zhe’s life, anything that would help him read him better, stopped him.
“We promised we’d always be together. How can you be so cold? Especially after tonight. We only have each other in this world, you know that, right? I only have you.”
An Zhe remained silent, which only seemed to rile up the other man even more.
“But that’s not your case, right? Now you like hiding under Colonel Lu’s wing, huh? How did you even manage to get his attention? He’s a lunatic, didn’t you see him tonight? You think he won’t kill you once he gets tired of you?”
At the mention of his name, An Zhe visibly winced.
“He’s fair. One day he’ll kill me,” he said slowly, with an odd finality, “but only if I’m infected.”
Lu Feng felt a strong need to understand all the undertones in An Zhe’s voice, which were normally harder to decipher than other people’s. He sounded just as sad as he did indifferent, as if he had long resigned to a fate where he’d inevitably die by the Colonel’s hands. Earlier that night, he’d told An Zhe he believed he was human, so his choice of words was strange.
“You’re delusional,” the other man replied with a humorless laugh. “It’s like you’re an entirely different person. I don’t get it. Aren’t you scared? Do you have a death wish? You used to avoid the judges at all costs like everyone else with half a brain!”
“I don't remember being like that,” An Zhe said, his tone suddenly rising. He met the other man’s eyes defiantly and continued, “I should have avoided you instead.”
The man stood next to An Zhe and his expression turned into a scornful grimace. “I’m worried about you, but you think you’re better than everyone else now that you have those monsters on your side. Call for him then, call the entire Trial Court for all I care!”
He grabbed An Zhe’s collar and pushed him hard against the wall, making him gasp in pain as the man's arm pressed hard against his neck. It instantly spurred Lu Feng into action, and in only a few long strides he reached them. He grasped the man’s arm, locking it behind his back and effectively separating the two. An Zhe looked at him with wide, worried eyes.
“Should the Trial Court send you to prison for assault, then?” His voice was glacial as he stared down at the man. He stopped wriggling once he realised who was talking to him.
“I’m– I’m sorry. We were just discussing personal matters, Colonel Lu. It’s not what it seems.” Lu Feng was shocked by how much he despised the stranger’s sudden docile tone.
“Do you have any personal business with this man?,” he addressed An Zhe instead, and he saw him recoil under the intensity of his gaze.
“No,” he answered simply, maintaining eye contact regardless. For some reason, it made Lu Feng even more frustrated.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?,” he asked him. His controlled voice betrayed no emotions, but he trusted An Zhe could perceive his exasperation.
“I didn’t think there’d be any issues. You were sleeping soundly.”
At the exchange, the man looked at Lu Feng and then at An Zhe, doing a poor job of hiding his own shock at the implication of their words.
“I’ll have to take him to the station. Go back to the room and stay there.”
“No!,” An Zhe exclaimed a little too quickly. Lu Feng frowned.
“What is it? You want to help him?”
“I don’t care about that, just…,” An Zhe shook his head, struggling to find the right words. “You need to rest.”
Don’t go, he was really asking. Lu Feng stared at him and quietly considered what to do.
“If the Court sees you steering up trouble again, you’ll wish I’d not let you go tonight.” He pushed the man away.
“Understood, Colonel.”
The man glanced at An Zhe one last time, but was pointedly ignored. He looked down and picked up the pace until he was out of sight. Alone in the hallway, An Zhe kneeled down and grabbed a water bottle Lu Feng had seen in his room before.
“I was thirsty,” he offered as an explanation. “I didn’t think anyone would be outside at this hour. He showed up out of nowhere.” He walked over to the water fountain and started filling the bottle.
“Tonight’s not a normal night. People can’t sleep,” was all Lu Feng said, and An Zhe hummed. He started for his room, and the Colonel followed close behind him. Once they arrived, he broke the silence again.
“Next time, just wake me up,” he said as he opened the door and walked inside, but An Zhe stood still at the threshold, looking at him strangely. He turned at him and raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his reaction. Then, An Zhe simply nodded and came inside.
He placed the bottle on the desk in front of the window and grabbed the glass next to it. He filled it up and drank as if he’d been on the brink of dehydration this entire time. Lu Feng watched him in silence. An Zhe raised his eyes to meet his gaze and calmly kept them fixed on him as he drank.
Following the water’s movement, Lu Feng lowered his gaze to An Zhe’s throat as he visibly swallowed. He was leaning against the desk, and the dim light from the window was giving his skin a greenish glow, doing a fairly good job of concealing the redness on his neck. He walked over to get a closer look.
“Does it hurt?”
“Do you want some?”
An Zhe was looking at him with a small, sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed for failing to consider the Colonel could be thirsty as well. He offered him the same glass he’d been drinking out of, and for the tiniest of instants Lu Feng felt at a loss for words. So he wasn’t doing these things on purpose? An Zhe hadn’t done anything weird the whole night and only seemed to be acting politely. Was something wrong with himself instead, then? Were they actually his, the ulterior intentions?
“It stings a little, but it isn’t bad,” he assured him, his arm still extended towards Lu Feng. He stared at the glass for a moment longer before accepting it. He brought it to his lips as he tried to read An Zhe’s hidden feelings, but he only saw soft contentment in his open expression.
“Let me fill it again,” he offered once Lu Feng finished drinking.
“No, that’s okay. Show me your neck.”
An Zhe appeared wary for a second, but then he extended his neck, offering him a clear view of his pale skin, and Lu Feng frowned slightly. Was he always this compliant? Was this the result of working on the third floor? How exactly had he been surviving so far? How did he meet the man from the hallway? What did he mean when he said he should've avoided him? His curiosity irritated him to no end. He didn’t want to know anything about An Zhe. He wanted to know everything.
He placed his right hand around his neck and traced his throat with his thumb, pressing the reddened area until An Zhe winced.
“Don’t obey anyone so readily. You’ll end up choked to death,” he warned him.
“Is that what you’ll do?” An Zhe looked up at him with clear eyes that easily showed his anger.
Adorable, Lu Feng thought, feeling a sudden pang in his chest. He softened his hold, but kept his hand in place while fighting to understand his conflicting emotions.
“If I have to,” he replied simply. Then, he took a look at the rest of his neck, massaging it with his fingers while An Zhe stood there, wordlessly. He was about to let him go when he noticed the quickening pulse on the side. He was used to this. He knew what fear looked like, had seen it countless times in the reactions of almost all the humans he had ever encountered since he became a judge of the Trial Court. All his life he had trained not to let anyone else’s emotions affect him, and his body barely reacted to the most extreme situations.
Why, then?
Why did he feel his heart beat faster in return?
He placed his index and middle finger on the artery, feeling every thump. An Zhe tried to catch his eyes again, so he readily gave him what he wanted and returned his gaze with renewed intensity. Lu Feng felt himself losing the track of time.
“Colonel,” An Zhe called, his voice merely a whisper. It failed to break Lu Feng out of his daze. “You should rest for at least a few more hours.”
He tugged at his sleeve, pulling him towards the bed. Lu Feng followed him blindly, as if hypnotised. For the first time since he had any recollection, he felt his body move before his brain, his actions no longer the result of a deliberate thought process.
He barely registered his knees hitting the mattress, or the way An Zhe pulled the sheets over themselves. He felt his body give in to the accumulated exhaustion, his bones aching just as much as his heart. An Zhe gave him a small smile and he closed his eyes, his hand still holding onto Lu Feng’s cuff.
He quickly followed suit.
When Lu Feng woke up again, the sun was just about to rise on the horizon. The sky had the purplish glow of late night dreams and, as he stared at An Zhe’s sleeping face, he was able to forget yesterday’s horrors for a whole minute.
Then, he remembered.
The smell of fresh blood, the piercing sound of his gun going off time and time again, the screams, and the wind, the relentless wind. He looked out at the city skyline, a perfect portrait of fake serenity, and his eyes immediately went back to An Zhe. His skin had the tone of the moonshine that forced its way among the tumultuous clouds of a stormy sky; his hair the softness of the breeze that picked up between gunshots.
Just where had he come from?
He got ready for the day, making his best effort to disconnect himself from the placidness and warmth he felt by An Zhe’s side. The other man barely stirred. Then, he spotted a piece of paper on the desk that read Oppose the Arbiter’s brutality. He scoffed, but grabbed a pen anyway and turned the flyer around.
I’m sorry I had to leave first.
Take care of yourself.
Don’t do anything reckless.
I’ll come find you as soon as I can.
Please, head to the Main City. Just don’t stay here.
Thank you.
He stood still for a moment, then quickly scribbled:
I’ve left.
Call if anything comes up.
Lu