Work Text:
Li Lianhua finds the armour clinging to a piece of driftwood. He knows whose it is, knows its reputation, even if the sight of it isn't familiar. He knows what broke the links on it, creating the few small gashes. He almost casts it back into the sea, but the weight of it on his fingers refuses to let go.
It comes back to his new home, tucked into a sleeve. There is no furniture there yet, so he sets about lighting a fire, makes himself dinner and eats it on the half-built porch. Then he goes in, laying out the bedroll on the floor. The first thing to do tomorrow would be to build a bed and a table.
In the light of the single lamp he has, Li Lianhua pulls the armour out and traces the shape of its intricate links. It would fetch a fortune, if he sold it at the right place. It would keep him and Hulijing fed for years, even, but the thought of being in posession of that much money makes something itch under his skin.
"What do you think, Hulijing?" he says, as she pads over to join him on the bed and sniffs curiously at the new object. He holds it down for her to see better, and she promptly bites it. She's been teething these days. "Better this than my poor robes," Li Lianhua tells her, letting her have it.
~~~
Using Yangzhouman to regulate the poison is a learning curve. Every week or so, Li Lianhua finds himself in slightly lesser agony than the nights before. The improvement is slow but steady. Until it isn't.
This night, he can't help but cry. He meditates, circulating his qi through his meridians even though it burns against the ice of the poison. Tears stream down his face as a reflex out of sheer pain. After hours of it, the searing cold recedes back to a dull thrum in his lower dantian. His robes and the sheets are damp with sweat and tears and some streaks of contaminated blood, but he cannot find the energy to drag himself out of the mess. He slumps down as though the pain was the only scaffolding holding him up, and watches the dawn slip closer, turning everything an ethereal blue.
The dim light catches on something metallic that lies beside him on the bed. Hulijing had fled to her kennel when the pain had started, too scared to stay after barking and whimpering for the first hour or so. She had dropped her new favourite toy as she'd fled. His fingers reach for it, pat the saliva off it with the already messy sheets, and he looks closer. It is unharmed by the puppy's teeth despite being dragged through all kinds of filth and being subject to all the sorts of abuse an overexcitable puppy could inflict.
Word is that Di Feisheng is dead and gone. Word is also that Li Xiangyi is dead and gone, and as true as Li Lianhua is bent upon making that, it isn't exactly so.
The armour glints serenely back at him. Di Feisheng had looked just like this the last night of their lives; untouchable, unfazed, unflappable as he took away every single thing Li Xiangyi had.
Li Lianhua's gut twists with the urge to rip it apart, rip it to bits with Wenjing, the only blade that could pierce it.
The moment the thought occurs, he knows it's impossible.
A reminder, he tells himself. It will remind him of their arrogance. Of Li Xiangyi's foolishness, of Di Feisheng's betrayal, of the way they have destroyed their worlds and killed themselves at each other's hands.
Maybe he should thank Di Feisheng. For jolting him out of the delusions of grandeur he floated in, for stripping away everything and exposing his hypocrisy to himself. A strange, strangled noise reaches Li Lianhua's ears, and he realises it is his own laugh. Di Feisheng had been closer to the truth all along, really. There was no fixing the world, and only an arrogant bastard would ever think he could.
His hands move, slow and shaking, and undo the ties of his single robe. Letting it drop to the bed, Li Lianhua drags himself up till he is sitting slumped against the wall. Without a clue of what he's doing, he slips the impossibly fine metal over his head.
It settles light as sunlight on his skin, hanging loose on his thinner frame. An image, as absurd as what he's doing, flashes across his mind. He leans back against the wall and feels its thin, unbreakable steel between his fingers, feels the shape of broken links over the ribs and the stomach, and shudders as he remembers that night. He shuts his eyes against the ghostly memory of his own bottomless grief disguised as rage.
The image of Di Feisheng, pinned to the mast.
An image of something that had never happened— Di Feisheng wearing this armour on the rooftop where they had shared wine after their second match. His own hands slipping under this armour and feeling skin as he kissed into Di Feisheng's mouth, stabbing him straight through the heart so he died pinned to that very rooftop. His eyes looking up at him, at Li Xiangyi, with what should be just rage but instead feels closer to hurt.
“If you’re going to take the whole world on your shoulders, look at all of it properly," he accuses. "How does it feel to bring them here to die?"
Li Lianhua jolts awake with a gasp, mouth tasting of stale blood. His fingers trace the gash right over his ribs again. Di Feisheng hadn't been all that unflappable, had he? He had looked at Li Xiangyi the same way both those nights, on the rooftop and on the sea. Like Li Xiangyi was the one who let him down, hurt him. Is he right about that, too?
Li Lianhua pushes the thought away before it can take root. No. The poison in his veins is real, the missing body of his brother is real.
Di Feisheng is the only one he can blame alongside himself.
He looks down at himself, clothed in the impossible steel with impossible wounds, and feels his gut twist in disgust. Scrambling to get it off of him, he retches without anything to throw up.
~~~
It stays in the back of his cupboard for years, till he's hunting for a piece of cloth to serve as a potholder. Hulijing, who is technically old enough now to have very many teething pups of her own, has gnawed her way through all the cloths he kept ready for this very purpose.
It catches his eye and makes him pause. Before any of what's flashing though his mind can take form, he remembers Hulijing can't rip through this one for sure.
He conjures up a new image — of Di Feisheng watching him use his treasured armour as a pot-holder.
Li Lianhua pulls it out with a smirk. It'll do well.
~~~
Li Lianhua and Fang Xiaobao are packing right after recieving Yu Louchun's exclusive invitation, when Fang Duobing catches sight of the armour again.
He snatches it off the table, comes closer to whisper so A-Fei doesn't hear. "Li Lianhua, you're still leaving this thing out around him? Do you want him to be invincible or what!?"
Li Lianhua had nearly forgotten. "Here," he says, taking it from Fang Duobing, and tossing it to A-Fei. Fang Duobing squawks in outrage as A-Fei catches it without missing a beat.
"What is this?" he asks.
"Armour. It's a peerless treasure I'm giving you. It's unbreachable," Li Lianhua says, with an overly solemn face.
A-Fei raises a skeptical brow, looking at the gashes in the armour. Li Lianhua is constantly impressed just how himself he is despite losing his memory. "Only one sword in the entire world can do that," Li Lianhua defends himself. A-Fei still looks skeptical as he pulls it on. It fits like a glove, even if A-Fei makes a face and shifts it around like he's a bit uncomfortable.
"And where is that sword now?" he asks.
So many questions. It's like dealing with a kid. A very snarky and perceptive kid who sees through any and all bullshit. It's very annoying. "It's gone too," Li Lianhua lies. "So rest assured."
A-Fei narrows his eyes at him, but begrudgingly accepts with a grunt.
Fang Duobing, who has been seething all along, drags Li Lianhua closer, hissing in his ear, "What are you doing, giving him that?"
"He's lost so much of his power, it's just for safety."
"He's still better than me," Xiaobao begrudgingly admits. "What if he remembers everything and tries to kill us? If you're going to use it as something more than a pot holder, why don't you wear it yourself!?"
"He won't do anything of the sort." Li Lianhua pats him on his arm reassuringly. "Besides, you'll be with me, won't you? I won't need it."
Fang Duobing sees exactly what he's doing, but is flattered despite himself. "You old fox," he mutters, turning around to Di Feisheng, who is busy testing his mobility with the armour on.
Li Lianhua watches too, and feels a twinge of something old and scarred behind his ribs. This version of Di Feisheng… he feels impossibly close to a friend. There's a moment where it feels like he'll shatter a little, as the parts of him that once filled with resentment and blame flood instead with guilt, and dangerously familiar affection; wounds too old that are coming undone, and a loneliness twines through him with it.
He tears his eyes away and goes back to directing Fang Xiaobao with the packing.
~~~
Li Lianhua laughs out loud for the first time in months as Di Feisheng carries a pot of soup over to the table with an all-too familiar pot holder. The laugh hurts his sore muscles, but he can't help it. It's his first time eating at the table in well over six months, and he can only guess how long his two caretakers have been using this thing.
"Don't you want it back?" Li Lianhua asked, chuckling.
Before Di Feisheng can do much more than open his mouth, Fang Duobing pipes up, "I asked him exactly that! And you know what he said? He said he didn't like it! Of all things to be picky about," he huffs, puffing his cheeks up as he puts meat into Li Lianhua's bowl. "He won't even let me have it. And he lectures me about being wasteful."
"Such a precious treasure." Li Lianhua picks up his bowl and chopsticks slowly, looking at A-Fei for an explanation. "Are you sure you don't want it back?"
Di Feisheng casts an amused eye on the armour-turned-potholder, then raises a brow at Li Lianhua. "Why? Do you think I need it?"
"You needed it once."
"I won't be battling you again, will I?"
"Arrogant," Fang Duobing declares around a mouthful of mantou. "I'll beat you soon, just wait and watch!"
Di Feisheng snorts. "We'll see." After a second's pause, he looks properly at Fang Xiaobao as he pours himself a cup of water, and adds, "The armour was to protect my life. Even if you defeat me one day, I won't need it."
Fang Duobing's eyes go wide and surprised as the words and the trust they imply sink in. He looks away as he goes a little pink, and Li Lianhua ducks his head to hide a smile. "If- If not me, someone else might!" Fang Xiaobao darts a glance at A-Fei and away, looking down at the table instead as a calculating spark enters his eyes. "I'll talk to Mother. Tianji Manor can definitely make something more formidable."
"And I'm the arrogant one," A-Fei says and earns a scowl.
"It's called knowing one's abilities," Fang Xiaobao shoots back primly, biting into a jiaozi and visibly regretting it as he realises how hot it is.
The meal continues in amicable, mostly non-disastrous chaos. Li Lianhua watches as A-Fei eats, taking his time instead of wolfing down, as though savouring it. He can taste it a little better now, more and more every week. Di Feisheng is still Di Mengzhu to the world, even though the image he and the Jinyuan alliance bear has started to shift with a begrudging cooperation with the Sigu Sect and the Baichuan Court. He and Qiao Wanmian have managed to do more to help the Jianghu in the past year than he and Li Xiangyi ever got to.
But here, with them, he is A-Fei again. It fills Li Lianhua with a strange longing if he thinks about it too long.
He gets caught staring. "Still about that damn armour?" A-Fei asks, and Li Lianhua doesn't say no. A-Fei's lips press into a thin line as he looks at the thing. "It really is uncomfortable. Besides…" He looks up, meeting Li Lianhua's eye with a smile. "You've had it longer than I have. It's not mine anymore."
While Fang Duobing grumbles about that being a dumb logic, Li Lianhua turns the words over in his head. He keeps doing it while they poke fun at one another over the rest of the meal, while he's led back to bed on Fang Xiaobao's arm and tucked in and fussed over. It's a cold night. As has become their habit, Fang Duobing sits at his bedside till he falls asleep, meditating or reading or arguing recreationally with Di Feisheng about everything and nothing.
Tonight is relatively quiet, and Fang Xiaobao reads a few pages of a book that he staunchly refuses to call a romance novel before setting it down. He finds Li Lianhua awake, and turns to him.
"The breaks in the armour are from Wenjing, aren't they?"
Li Lianhua is admittedly a little surprised. He nods, wondering where this is going.
"Why did you keep it?" Fang Xiaobao asks. "Was it like… a trophy?"
Even he doesn't sound convinced of it, and he's right not to be. It was a lot of things, but never a that. Trophies are for victories. Nothing about that fight was ever a victory.
"It was nice to be irreverent," Li Lianhua tells him. A part-truth, without digging too deep. "I used to think A-Fei would get mad about it," he admitted, a smile slipping out.
"And now?" Fang Xiaobao asks again. This boy and his questions. He'd only gotten worse ever since they'd saved Li Lianhua, ever since he'd stopped leaving. "He's just as irreverent as you. The two of you are made for one another."
Li Lianhua feels only fond at the sight of Fang Xiaobao's pout. He can't help but half-tease as he asks, "Do you really want it? I can get A-Mian to find someone who'll repair it even. I'll pass it on to you, as your shifu."
"Shut up with that nonsense! You're no shifu of mine," Fang Xiaobao snaps, then looks annoyed at himself for taking the bait. "I don't want it, you old fox." His eyes soften as he keeps looking at Li Lianhua. Li Lianhua pulls the quilt higher up with a shiver, covering his neck as a draft passes through the window. It's easy to forget while teasing him that Fang Xiaobao can be dangerously perceptive.
"It's one of the few things you kept," Fang Xiaobao says, pulling down the heavier blinds over the window. "From before."
"I just found it washed up on the shore." Li Lianhua avoids Fang Duobing's eye as he shoots him a flat look. He turns more towards Li Lianhua, one leg curled up on the bed and the full force of his attention on him. "I'm not asking how you found it, I'm asking why you kept it."
Li Lianhua opens his mouth, three different ways to change the topic on the tip of his tongue, but none of it makes it out. A night spent on this very bed comes to mind— cold, alone, hurt, broken. It is so similar to the nights he's spent recovering now, but also worlds apart because he is never alone this time, even when he wants to be.
Fang Duobing has seen him at his most broken, has stayed even after being left behind and hurt so often. What was the point of not telling him? It would only be hiding from the truth himself.
"I kept things to remember my mistakes, and remember what I was grateful for," Li Lianhua admits. Shifu's gourd to remind him of what to cherish in this life. Wenjing to remember what his Shixiong had done for him and to honour it, before the truth came out. A-Mian's pouch to remember her determination, her honesty, and how he had let her down. The armour… "It was to remind myself to never trust the wrong people."
"That's gone all upside-down now," Fang Duobing thinks out loud with a wince, and Li Lianhua smiles in answer.
"It's what I used to tell myself, earlier," he says. "But the fact is that it kept me company, just like all the other things. It kept me company when nothing else could. As long as I had this, I hadn't failed alone that night. I had someone to share the blame."
Fang Duobing looks older than Li Lianhua keeps thinking he is, as he takes that in and nods. "I see."
"What do you see?"
Rather than answering, Fang Duobing asks, "So. What now?"
"What?"
"What are you going to do with it?"
Li Lianhua smiles to himself. "It's a perfectly good potholder."
Fang Duobing looks exasperated. "You— Even though I don't want it, at least give it to someone who will put it to use!"
That won't be as amusing, he thinks to himself. Out loud, he says, "Hulijing will keep chewing through all other cloths."
"Don't blame it all on Hulijing," he admonishes, no heat in it anymore. Then he looks Li Lianhua up and down, and an unusually teasing smile lifts the corner of Xiaobao's lips. "I see it now."
Li Lianhua glances at him sideways. "See what?"
"That the next time you call A-Fei clingy, you're being a hypocrite." Li Lianhua tries to swat at his shoulder and fails, sleeve catching in the bedsheet. He glares half-heartedly and wraps the quilt tight around himself again as Fang Xiaobao laughs, choosing to give up on the endeavour before losing too much face.
"Fang Shaoye," he warns. "Learn to be good to the person who will soon be making your meals."
"You're going to make questionable experiments anyways," Fang Duobing whines with a wince and sets his book aside. "It's cold tonight. Move over, I'll sleep here."
"Who's clingy now?" Li Lianhua mumbles as Fang Xiaobao worms his way under the quilt with him and curls up around him. The way his face is buried between Li Lianhua's shoulder and the pillow, Li Lianhua isn't quite sure how he's breathing, but he seems perfectly content, sinking further into the mattress and throwing a leg over him. He's warm.
"The quilt is enough. You're heavy," Li Lianhua complains out of habit, and Fang Duobing says nothing. Just as Li Lianhua wonders if he's fallen asleep already—
"Li Lianhua." Fang Xiaobao's voice is low, soft yet firm. His eyes are still shut. "Let me keep you company this time."
The words go and sit heavy and warm in his chest, just like Fang Duobing is wrapped around him. Li Lianhua smiles despite himself and his fingers find and lock with Fang Duobing's own where they rest against his heart.