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Five years post-apocalypse, Sun Zheping had grown uncomfortably used to the world’s insanity. He’d also developed a theory that said insane world had something against him specifically, because life should not be this hard.
Or maybe that was just because he was a guildmaster. Or an S-ranked ability user. Or too stubborn for his own good. He didn’t deny his own choices had played a significant role in where he was now, but it seemed like if he needed to be punished, it shouldn’t involve quite so many other people.
At least a third of his raid party—an elite one, mind you—was dead. That meant seven people down. Their Cleric was trying to revive a body, which was fully intact if nothing else. Their Paladin was picking up the slack in keeping the survivors on their feet. Their Thief had been sent off to scout the way to the gate. Of their remaining attackers, the least injured stood in a semicircle, backs to the wall and facing the end of the tunnel they’d decided to make a stand in.
It was the best they could do, and in theory, they should be glad they still had over half their original numbers. But man, the world really was a bitch.
“I don’t think I can save this one,” the Cleric said, standing up. “Supposing I eventually succeed and revive him, I won’t have the mana afterward to help the rest of you.”
“Then leave him,” Sun Zheping decided.
A few of his subordinates shifted on their feet, but no one protested. This was the one body they’d managed to pick up, and mistakenly so—he hadn’t seemed dead, and maybe he wasn’t at first. But between the antechamber to the boss monster’s lair and where they were now, he must have croaked. It had been a long shot anyway, considering the hits they’d taken from the boss’s guards. Maybe they shouldn’t have tried.
Sun Zheping couldn’t regret trying.
“We need to move. The closer we can get to the gate before we’re found, the better.”
He didn’t explain his reasoning. It was obvious: the closer they were to the gate, the likelier it was they could make a quick escape. But Sun Zheping wasn’t counting on them making it through without fighting another couple of skirmishes. He had every intention of sending everyone packing before this became a mass casualty event; he just knew it would take a lot of sacrifice.
Or…not. Just his sacrifice. Which was a lot from his perspective, but nothing in the grand scheme of things.
He only had to keep reminding himself of that.
* * *
When Sun Zheping woke up, it was with the brief, hazy memory of running down an endlessly dark cave. Soon, even that deserted him, and he only recalled looking his party members in the eye and telling them to jog ahead of him, quick and quiet, with the emphasis on quiet.
“Surprised I’m alive,” he croaked to the man sitting at his bedside. It was probably a good sign he could still clock his surroundings so well despite being laid out in a hospital bed. His condition must be dire indeed, for him to need actual medical care.
“So am I,” said Han Wenqing, straightening in his seat. “You were already injured. What were you thinking, going on a raid like that?”
“It was a B-ranked dungeon,” Sun Zheping dully reminded him. “Also, I wasn’t injured.”
“Yes, you were. You were going to get surgery for your right arm and left hand. I know this because you told me. And then two days later, you went into a dungeon.”
“It was supposed to be easy.”
“Nothing is easy. Anything can happen.”
“Shut up, you dick. I’m aware. Can’t you hand-feed me some soup like a supportive person?”
Han Wenqing held up a cup of water with a straw. “You can have this. A doctor should be on the way. Don’t eat anything until you’re told.”
Sun Zheping was inclined to argue—food was very necessary for mana recovery—but seeing just how haggard Han Wenqing looked, he decided against it. He hadn’t seen Han Wenqing haggard in years. Dusty, bloody, bruised, disheveled, yes, but somehow, never truly worn out. It was one of the most infuriating things about him.
“Is Zhang Jiale holding down the fort?” he asked after swallowing some water.
Han Wenqing replaced the cup and leaned back in his chair. It seemed like a comfortable chair. Only the best for someone of Han Wenqing’s status, Sun Zheping supposed.
“Yeah. He’s come by every day, though.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“Sure.” A muscle in Han Wenqing’s cheek spasmed.
Sun Zheping wasn’t too tired to not poke fun. “I’m still not leaving you for him.”
“I know.”
A long silence. Hesitation weighed heavy on both sides. But Sun Zheping knew what his priorities ought to be.
“What happened, exactly? Who made it out in the end?” Hopefully everyone, if even Sun Zheping had made it.
“Thirteen survivors including you. From what I understand, you didn’t lose anyone else after getting away from boss, and everyone survived their injuries.”
Sun Zheping wrinkled his brow. It hadn’t even been the boss they’d gotten away from; it was the boss’s underlings who’d sent them running. Pathetic.
“We didn’t encounter any other monsters?”
“No.” Han Wenqing studied him. “You don’t…remember anything?”
“I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember the part where we got out.”
“Phoenix came in after you,” Han Wenqing said bluntly.
Sun Zheping’s jaw dropped. “Those happy-go-lucky idiots?”
“Ye Xiu was with them. It was just six people, I think, including him.”
“What the fuck…”
“Your Thief came out, called for backup, and was barred from going back inside till she’d explained what happened. In that time, Ye Xiu showed up with some heavy-hitters and his top Cleric. Went in, no questions asked.”
That was the stupidest thing Sun Zheping had ever heard. Like, all of it. First, they’d needed their Thief to return and report, so who had the bright idea of holding her back? Second, out of all the guilds in the country, big and small, why did Phoenix show up first, and with Ye Xiu to boot? And third, “no questions asked”?!
“So you’re saying Phoenix got us out.”
“Ye Xiu got you out,” Han Wenqing said, suddenly not as calm anymore. “Had to heft your limp body over his shoulders and carry you to the gate. His party kept yours safe on the way back. But you were farther way, much farther. Apparently, you had the bright idea to stay behind.”
If Sun Zheping thought he could lift his arms right now, he would be rubbing his forehead. Unfortunately, half his nerve endings were screaming at him to keep his limbs as still as possible.
“And the dungeon?”
“I had just left a dungeon of my own with my alpha team. Teleported to the scene as they were discussing sending Ye Xiu and his people back in. We ended up going in together to clean up and kill the boss monster.”
This was the most embarrassing day of Sun Zheping’s life (post-apocalypse). Not only did he lose seven elite guild members in a B-ranked dungeon, he’d needed two other top-tier guilds to complete the raid in Hundred Blossoms’s name.
Han Wenqing must have picked something up from his expression because he said, rather mildly, “You should have waited for surgery.”
Sun Zheping glared at him. “Under the circumstances, I’m fucking glad I didn’t. They might have all died without me there. The discrepancy between the outlying monsters and the core monsters was obscene.”
“That’s true.”
The easy concession stopped Sun Zheping’s mounting anger in its tracks.
“The boss and underlings were overpowered for the dungeon’s rating. I’m not sure how the B classification was reached, but that should have been an A, at the very least.”
Sun Zheping let out a slow breath.
Han Wenqing watched him carefully. “It wasn’t your alpha team in there, just one of your elites. The dungeon was above their level and you had no way of knowing. You thought you were just going to supervise, right?”
“I…” Sun Zheping bit his lip. “I only wanted to let off some steam.”
“You were worried about the surgery?”
“Yeah.” It smarted to admit it, but Han Wenqing would know regardless.
“I get it.”
Sun Zheping laughed, an ugly thing with barbs attached. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” Rather than take his injured hand, Han Wenqing pressed his palm to Sun Zheping’s cheek and turned his face so they could lock gazes. “I do.”
Leaning his head into that warm, familiar touch, Sun Zheping finally felt like he could breathe.
* * *
Ye Xiu came by later that day, which ended up being late at night. Sun Zheping had been cleared by the doctor to eat a small dinner, which he did in Han Wenqing’s company. Apparently, surgery would have to be rescheduled for when Sun Zheping was more well-rested. The fact he’d been unconscious for so long due to mana depletion was very concerning, the doctor insisted, and he was some specialist in ability user health, so his advice was expert.
Sun Zheping wished he could just hurry this whole thing along. The sooner he was fixed up, the sooner he could get back to his regularly scheduled program. He knew Hundred Blossoms would be able to look after their safety zones just fine with or without him, but he’d rather it be with him.
“I can’t believe you showed up here,” Sun Zheping told Ye Xiu when he came in. Han Wenqing, who’d been dozing off, snapped awake, bleary-eyed and frowning.
“Teleportation is very convenient.” Ye Xiu closed the door softly behind him and approached the bed. “The government can spread us out, but it can’t split us up.”
“How did you even know to come?”
Ye Xiu glanced at Han Wenqing. “He didn’t fill you in? One of the reporters who was waiting outside your dungeon’s gate for a statement is an acquaintance of mine. He sent me a message the second that Thief staggered out alone.”
“Seriously? That’s it?”
“That’s it. Cell phones have their uses, I guess.”
Sun Zheping scowled. “I mean, that’s all it took? A message from a reporter about a lone Thief in distress and you teleported here? It never occurred to you that may be a waste of time and resources?”
“Checking in on you is never a waste of time and resources,” Ye Xiu said calmly.
Well, what could Sun Zheping say to that? He leaned back more comfortably against the pillows on his bed. Ye Xiu could be a real bastard, but he wasn’t half-bad at providing reassurance when he bothered to try. The thing was, he probably wasn’t trying—he was only being honest.
Ye Xiu sat on the armrest of Han Wenqing’s chair, keeping one foot on the floor to steady himself. The three of them regarded each other with solemn expressions.
Three years ago, Ye Xiu had still been known as Ye Qiu, and newly on his own. Guild Excellent Era had essentially exiled him, and both Tyranny and Hundred Blossoms, based in the same city at the time, had been determined to recruit him.
But a year later, Ye Qiu became Ye Xiu and a new guild rose up around him. Excellent Era, with the untried and youthful Sun Xiang serving as their premiere S-ranker, had tried to sue him. Ye Xiu’s counter-suit had been legendary, and in the aftermath, the government set up new regulations concerning the guilds.
It had been bothersome, the adjustment period. Even more bothersome when the guilds were basically ordered to uproot themselves and secure and occupy different regions. However, it was understandable, and a hopeful sign: more of their world was being reclaimed. Humanity didn’t need to crowd together to survive, they could begin spreading out again. They’d just need protection in the process.
It was a hopeful sign. It also made it very difficult for Sun Zheping, Han Wenqing, and Ye Xiu to be together in any capacity.
(How they actually got together was a story for another day. But in summary: Sun Zheping and Han Wenqing had already had history, and Ye Xiu happened to be their type. This was concerning on a number of levels, probably.)
They made it work with teleportation spell matrices. Ye Xiu had a big hand in that little bit of magical ingenuity, enough that “magic-mana engineer” was gaining traction as a career choice for the more intellectually inclined ability users out there. And since Ye Xiu was involved, of course he managed to milk a few privileges out of it.
The deal was, everyone had to pay to use a matrix. But high-ranked ability users got a big discount if they needed to teleport for official business, even if it was on their own (which was a big waste, logistically). So somehow, meeting up for quick dates and sex got labeled as official business, because the Guild Professional Alliance’s chairman couldn’t stand Ye Xiu’s pestering.
Emergency uses of the teleportation matrices were covered by the government most of the time, even if it wasn’t all of the cost. Depending on the emergency, it would be free. And emergencies could be declared retroactively, but a good lawyer would need to argue the case. Ye Xiu and his buddies could have shown up to a completely normal dungeon raid, incurring a pointless debt. Even though things had turned out the way they did, they’d still have to get their legal department on it.
It seemed like a really silly thing to do. But none of Ye Xiu’s actions were silly in retrospect, ever. Sun Zheping sometimes wondered if the man had a precognition ability. His abilities were varied enough that it didn’t seem too far-fetched. (So varied, in fact, that the new classification system couldn’t even be applied to him. Ye Xiu was the only unclassified ability user in the world—who wasn’t ranked D or E, that was.)
“I wish this hadn’t happened,” Ye Xiu told them both, “but let’s not linger on it, okay? You’re off-duty until you get that surgery, Old Sun.”
“I could be off-duty afterward, too. Forever.”
Which was why he’d been so stressed that joining a dungeon raid had sounded like a good idea. The thought of being unfixable—of this being the end of his career—was too horrific to bear. Disability or not, he’d never stop being an ability user. Who heard of an S-ranked guildmaster who couldn’t fight, couldn’t raid? It was absurd.
“Retirement wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to you,” Han Wenqing said, sounding tired.
Sun Zheping pursed his lips. “I’d rather die” didn’t seem like the suitable response here. Given his recent actions, though, they probably knew his opinion on that front.
Truly, he wished he could be content with sitting back and taking it easy. He’d never wanted any of this, none of them had. But power changed you; power molded you. Once you had it, you didn’t want to part with it, not when you lived every day of your life with the threat of gates and monsters looming over you.
Power meant safety, or some measure of it. Strength was how you stayed alive. How could Sun Zheping accept losing even a fraction of that?
Ye Xiu watched him knowingly. “Whatever happens with the surgery, you’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”
With a nod, Sun Zheping let the matter drop. It was beyond him; the outcome would be as fate determined. At least the doctors he’d talked to seemed optimistic.
Han Wenqing wrapped his arm around Ye Xiu’s waist and tugged him closer until Ye Xiu slid gracefully into his lap. “How about we relax for a bit?”
“Fine by me,” Ye Xiu said, making himself comfortable. His bright golden eyes, the most obvious manifestation of his high rank, were perfectly alert. “You both need your beauty sleep.”
“And you don’t?” Sun Zheping grumbled.
“I am beautiful regardless.”
Sun Zheping and Han Wenqing both scoffed. It was a wonder they had ever given this jerk the time of day. In a sane world, the three of them would have had a one-night stand and left it at that.
In this world, Ye Xiu was as reliable as an S-ranker got, and that would never not be important. Monumental, even. More than looks, more than money, more than power, ability users needed partners worthy of their trust.
They needed family, because that was what kept them human.
* * *
The next morning, Sun Zheping was released from the hospital. By then, Han Wenqing and Ye Xiu had both made themselves scarce so Zhang Jiale could catch him up on the guild’s most urgent affairs in between chats with the medical team.
Sun Zheping didn’t feel better about the upcoming surgery—officially rescheduled to five days from now, thanks to the backlog he’d be dealing with in the office—but he felt better in general. The elites who’d made it out with him were mostly or fully recovered and on temporary leave. Every other dungeon raid Hundred Blossoms had booked went smoothly, with no casualties. The safety zones were still safe, and neither the government nor the Guild Professional Alliance were sticking their noses in. A pretty good outcome all around.
The misclassification of that disaster dungeon was being looked into even now, but the materials collected from within had been processed. The mining team assigned to it would receive a bonus since they’d had to work double-time. It had, unfortunately, taken a while to extract the human bodies.
Contrary to popular belief, killing the boss monster didn’t destroy the dungeon; only neutralizing the dungeon’s magic nexus did that. But the boss was always prepared to defend the nexus, and the gate to the dungeon wouldn’t disappear while it was intact. Worse, if left intact for too long, the nexus would eventually destabilize, breaking the gate open—and releasing the monsters within.
Dungeon breaks were catastrophes. Even a low-ranking dungeon breaking open resulted in mass casualties.
It was almost impossible to kill every monster within a dungeon. While the nexus was functional, more monsters would appear. The boss might even revive in another form. The problem with a nonfunctional nexus, however, was the closing of the gate. It could take as little as two hours for a dungeon gate to dissolve after the magic nexus was destroyed. Thus, to strip a dungeon, its nexus’s destruction was delayed—for a maximum of twelve hours (by law). Recovery teams, mining teams, and every other type of cleanup crew that operated post-raid had to act quick. In some guilds, they were compensated nearly as well as raiding parties.
Hundred Blossoms had always been more than fair to their cleanup crews. Sun Zheping still signed off on the bonus for the miners. For all its awfulness, the dungeon had awarded them a good haul.
“Will we be splitting the earnings with Phoenix and Tyranny?” Zhang Jiale asked carefully as they were driven away from the hospital.
Sun Zheping peered out of the car window. “It’s likely. I’ll negotiate something.”
Zhang Jiale’s silence said everything he thought about Sun Zheping’s negotiation skills where Ye Xiu and Han Wenqing were concerned.
“Don’t worry. Those two feel pretty bad for me. They’ll cave.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t think fucking them is gonna help you much here, boss.”
“Don’t be crass.”
“Don’t make out in your office with the door unlocked.”
“I will for the sake of money.”
“Ugh.”
* * *
Sun Zheping got to keep the dungeon’s proceeds. For the most part.
Ye Xiu and Han Wenqing decided to stay in the vicinity until a day after Sun Zheping’s surgery. That meant they were taking a horrid amount of time off from their own work, but apparently, they trusted their guilds enough to let it happen. Sun Zheping supposed they all had pretty strong subordinates.
Ye Xiu had cast some low-level healing spells on Sun Zheping’s arms to help with mobility. Low-level healing was all he was capable of, but it still made a difference. Unfortunately, Sun Zheping’s injuries just didn’t respond very well to magic healing—that was why surgery was necessary to begin with.
“The human body will always have limits,” Ye Xiu declared after he had finished examining Sun Zheping’s hands. “Not even an S-ranker can escape permanent injury. Of course, in your case, it’s going to be temporary.”
“Some mobility may be lost forever, or so the surgeons warned me,” Sun Zheping grumbled. “Hard to say how much. And pain will linger, though it should be manageable.”
Ye Xiu patted the back of his left hand. “People can get used to anything.”
Han Wenqing returned from Sun Zheping’s kitchen with an unopened bottle of wine in one hand and three wineglasses in the other. He set everything down on the coffee table, popped the wine open, and began to pour.
Sun Zheping gave Ye Xiu a sideways look. “Are you really going to drink?”
With a wrinkled nose, Ye Xiu said, “I’ll try a sip. Whatever happens after that is not my fault, though.”
“Of course it’s not,” Han Wenqing muttered as he passed a glass to each of them. Sun Zheping took his with his right hand, which was steadier than his left. “It never is.”
“Let’s hope he just passes out,” said Sun Zheping.
“A sip won’t do that much. Although it might make me more fun in bed.”
Sun Zheping laughed, startled. “Drunk sex? Damn, there’s not enough alcohol in this house for that.” He and Han Wenqing both processed alcohol far slower. Ye Xiu was abnormal among S-rankers in this respect, just like in many others.
“I’ll be the drunk one,” Ye Xiu said decisively. “You two need only take advantage.”
“You’re so kinky sometimes. Not that I mind.”
Ye Xiu smiled and rested his head on Sun Zheping’s good shoulder. “You never do.”
Han Wenqing sat on the couch on Sun Zheping’s other side and pressed his nose against Sun Zheping’s temple for a moment. “He makes it really easy to take advantage, huh?”
“Too easy.”
“I think he’s trying to cheer you up with sex.”
“Well, it’ll probably work,” Sun Zheping admitted.
“Then let’s have fun these next few days, before your surgery,” Han Wenqing said. “Give your backlog to Zhang Jiale.”
“He may actually murder me.”
“We’ll protect you,” Ye Xiu promised.
Sun Zheping shook his head, trying not to smile. Protect him? They’d sooner kill him with their bedroom antics.
That wouldn’t be so bad, actually. Except for the part where he’d be without them in the afterlife…
He sighed to himself, relaxing into the couch, into the warmth of his lovers surrounding him. He wanted the surgery to go well—it had better go well. But if it didn’t, and he couldn’t raid dungeons anymore, or even lead a guild anymore…maybe it would be fine.
As long as he was alive, he could have this. Have them. And that was enough.