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Shen Jiu wakes to the sound of water pouring outside. It's still dark within the room, none of the lamps on, but he knows for certain it is morning—the spot beside him holds no warmth after all.
He does not worry about it, it's normal for him to wake up later than his husband who usually goes out to fish just a bit after dawn breaks. He won't be fishing today, however, he normally doesn't during rain- The rain causing difficulties while out on the fishing boat. If not issue with netting, then the issue of coming home sick will do it.
Shen Jiu was lightly scolded once for daring to go fishing out in the rain. It simply wasn't much of a problem to him, he hadn't even taken the boat, only staying on the shore.
There weren't many fish daring to bite his hook anyway.
He doesn't even remember what had possessed him to go out that day. It seems so absurd now as he lies unmoving in bed with limbs arching from biting chills as if he were lied on cold stone instead of under the covers in a large warm bed. When he listens to the rain closely he can imagine that's so.
Eight years ago he had been there, inside the water prison no longer hung up by chains, but thrown to the stone platform caged by acidic waterfalls.
That beast had taken him apart like a doll, tried breaking himself to nothing but a husk. It had been satisfying to watch Luo Binghe's anger as everything he did, no matter the pain, was fruitless to kill off Shen Jiu's determination to fight and spit back at him.
All that power had lead to nothing. Nothing could fix a beast who would always be nothing more but a beast.
…
Then Yue Qingyuan had…
Shen Jiu rolls onto his side with a groan of pain. It only adds a numbness to his arm, but distracts from the phantom pain of steel slicing him open from the inside.
It shouldn't matter anymore. Everything he had known is far behind him, a life washed away by the one he found himself in now. A life that has treated him good despite how isolated he made himself the first year, only ever waiting for something to drop, for one of the villagers to be up to something, plotting about the outsider that suddenly dropped in on their peaceful lives.
It never came. They really are all so nice to him—well, some more than others. Ma Yao was a prickly one. He could respect that however.
Nevertheless… he likes the life he has right now.
The hours pass, Shen Jiu doesn't move from the bed and the rain doesn't stop. By the time he slowly slides the covers off his body, feet swung to land on the wooden floor, he thinks it must be wei hour.; ( Translation: wèi shí- 未時. 1pm to 3pm. ) The whole day wasted away because of some little aches in his limbs. Luck is one his side with the knowledge that outside the farm is taken care of, the livestock are fed and hopefully dry with the help he's gathered from the village. His limbs continue to ache as he stumbles across the room, the wood floor ice on his feet, with the sole goal of finding out where his husband is.
His search leads him to the kitchen where finally his body is granted the privilege of warmth against the skin. Ridiculous, he thinks. The bed did nothing but the too large kitchen is enough.
"JiuJiu-!" Xiao Dalan starts, skin flushed in what Shen Jiu can assume is embarrassment as he takes his stumbling steps over to the stove. Peering at what Xiao Dalan has cooking, he understands why the man is so red. It's nothing new, really, he just isn't that much of a good cook like others- Shen Jiu has no room to judge either, even if he can do so at a much better skill then the man.
Humming, he leans against his husband. The extra warmth helps his aches ease more.
"Are you tired? I should have brought the food to you quicker so you wouldn't have to move." Placing the spoon he used to stir down, Xiao Dalan takes gently takes Shen Jiu's hands in his own. "Your hands are so cold- I-I'll make you some tea to warm you up."
"Just the food is enough," Shen Jiu says with a small shake of his head.
Soon after Shen Jiu and Xiao Dalan, having eaten lunch, later dinner, both return to their bed. The rain continues to pour outside but Shen Jiu doesn't ache anymore. Curling up against his husband's chest, his body latching onto the warmth, he feels pleased.
Tomorrow will bring more warmth whether it rains or not. Whether he feels as if he is once more confide to the cold floor of a stone prison.