Archive of Our Own

To love, to hold

The door slammed shut with a violence that seemed wholly unsuited to the elegant surroundings of Li Industries' executive offices, its thunderous report reverberating through the glass-panelled walls before subsiding into a silence more oppressive than the argument that had preceded it. For several moments, Li Yitian remained where his cousin had abandoned him, his broad shoulders pressed against the unyielding wall, his once-immaculate appearance bearing the unmistakable evidence of their confrontation. The fine silk of his shirt, imported at considerable expense and tailored to flatter every line of his athletic figure, had been thoroughly abused by Li Wang's careless hands, while his tie hung in disarray around his neck, its loosened knot an affront to the meticulous image he had spent years cultivating.

He ought to have been furious. Indeed, beneath the polished veneer of his composure, anger stirred like a restless sea beneath an apparently tranquil surface, threatening to rise and engulf whatever remained of his patience. Yet there was something almost laughable about the situation: a man who had faced down the most ruthless competitors in the business world, whose name could silence an entire boardroom, had been reduced to standing against a wall with his collar askew because his own cousin could not bear to hear an unpleasant truth.

A humourless chuckle escaped his lips, though it brought little relief from the bitterness gathering upon his tongue.

He had always believed that wealth and influence were sufficient to purchase a certain degree of certainty in life, and if affection could not be obtained through the same means, then at least loyalty might be secured through generosity, mutual benefit, and a sufficiently advantageous contract. Such had been the principles upon which he had constructed his existence, and they had served him well enough until this afternoon, when Li Wang's fist had closed around his collar and reminded him that even the grandest of empires could be shaken by the passions of a single foolish man.

"Sir?"

The voice reached him through the turmoil of his thoughts, gentle enough that he might have mistaken it for the lingering echo of some half-forgotten dream, had he not recognised the familiar warmth beneath its habitual restraint.

Li Yitian raised his head and found Xiao Zhan standing near the door.

His assistant had witnessed the entire confrontation, an unfortunate circumstance that might have caused another man embarrassment, yet Li Yitian discovered that the humiliation of having been handled so roughly was nothing compared with the unexpected pain of seeing concern reflected in those beautiful dark eyes. Behind the delicate silver frames of his spectacles, Xiao Zhan's expression remained outwardly composed, but the slight pallor of his cheeks and the tension gathering around his mouth betrayed an agitation that years of professional discipline had apparently proved insufficient to conceal.

For four years, this man had remained at his side through every triumph and disappointment, accompanying him from the glittering reception halls of City B to the lonely sterility of foreign hotel rooms, where business negotiations stretched long into the night and the only familiar face awaiting him upon his return was that of his assistant. Xiao Zhan had become so essential to the smooth machinery of his life that Li Yitian scarcely remembered a time when he had been obliged to face its inconveniences alone, and yet, gazing upon him now, he was struck by the disquieting realisation that he knew remarkably little of the heart concealed beneath that impeccable exterior.

"Sir," Xiao Zhan repeated, venturing closer with an expression of such earnest concern that Li Yitian felt an unfamiliar tightness beneath his ribs. "Are you hurt?"

What a foolish question, he thought, though the tenderness that accompanied it was almost unbearable. His shoulder throbbed where it had struck the wall, and the skin beneath his collar would undoubtedly bear the marks of his cousin's temper, but what significance could such trifling injuries possess when the sight of his dishevelled appearance had brought that shadow of distress into Xiao Zhan's eyes?

"I'm fine," he replied, summoning the reassuring smile with which he had dismissed countless inconveniences throughout his career, though the lie sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

Xiao Zhan's gaze travelled over him with a thoroughness that might, under different circumstances, have amused him. His assistant appeared to be conducting an inventory of his injuries, lingering upon the creased collar and loosened tie before lifting his eyes to meet Li Yitian's once more.

"May I?" he asked, raising one hand towards the ruined arrangement of silk at his throat.

Li Yitian inclined his head in silent permission, and Xiao Zhan stepped into the narrow space between him and the rest of the room, bringing with him the faint fragrance of sandalwood and freshly laundered cotton that had become so familiar over the years. There was nothing extraordinary in the gesture; his assistant had straightened his tie a hundred times, perhaps a thousand, and the familiar intimacy of those practical ministrations had never before disturbed him. Yet when those slender fingers brushed against the exposed skin of his throat, delicately easing the knot that had tightened during the confrontation, Li Yitian became suddenly, painfully conscious of every point at which they touched.

The warmth of Xiao Zhan's hand travelled through him with the insidious persistence of sunlight penetrating the deepest waters, illuminating desires that had lain undisturbed for so long that he had almost succeeded in forgetting their existence. He watched the graceful movement of his assistant's fingers, the elegant curve of his wrist emerging from a perfectly pressed cuff, and the faint tremor that betrayed his lingering agitation. A stray lock of dark hair had escaped its immaculate styling, falling against his temple with a carelessness that only served to accentuate the delicate beauty of his features, while his long eyelashes cast shadows across cheeks that seemed unusually pale beneath the office's golden afternoon light.

Li Yitian had always known that Xiao Zhan was handsome. Such a face could hardly escape notice, even in a world where beauty was frequently cultivated with the same ruthlessness as wealth, but he had regarded his assistant's appearance with the detached appreciation one might bestow upon an exquisite painting displayed in a familiar room. Only now, with the distance between them reduced to little more than a breath, did he begin to comprehend the singular cruelty of having possessed the privilege of looking upon such beauty every day without once considering the possibility that he might wish to touch it.

"Xiao Zhan," he murmured, and the name felt strangely precious upon his tongue, its familiar syllables transformed by the sudden awareness that the man standing before him was neither an extension of his professional life nor an indispensable piece of its machinery, but a living, breathing creature whose warmth had become the silent centre around which his world revolved.

"Yes, sir?"

The answer was perfectly ordinary, yet something in the quiet deference of those two words pierced him with an unexpected pang of dissatisfaction. Before he could examine the feeling, his hand moved of its own accord, his fingers closing around Xiao Zhan's wrist just as the younger man began to withdraw.

His assistant froze, the delicate pulse beneath Li Yitian's fingertips fluttering with the frantic rhythm of a captive bird.

"Sir?" he whispered, lifting his gaze with a confusion so exquisitely vulnerable that Li Yitian felt the foundations of his carefully ordered existence begin to tremble.

He ought to release him. He understood that much, at least, for whatever unnamed emotion had seized him could not be permitted to compromise a relationship built upon years of trust, and Xiao Zhan's continued employment must never depend upon his willingness to indulge his employer's passing whims. Li Yitian loosened his grip, allowing the younger man every opportunity to withdraw, but the moment his fingers began to slip away, a sudden desolation opened within him, vast and bewildering, like the exposed seabed left behind by a retreating tide.

"Don't," he said, the word escaping him with a desperation he would never have permitted another soul to witness.

Xiao Zhan's breath caught, and although his wrist was free, he made no attempt to step away.

"Don't… what?"

Leave me.

The answer rose from some forgotten depth within him, carrying with it the accumulated weight of four years of unacknowledged attachment. He wanted Xiao Zhan to remain beside him when the office emptied and the lights went out, to share the long journeys between cities and the quiet mornings before the world began demanding his attention, to occupy a place in his life that could never be vacated merely because a contract had expired or a more advantageous offer had appeared.

Above all, he wanted to see his face.

How strange that he had spent so many years keeping this man half a step behind him, content with the reassuring sound of his footsteps while depriving himself of the simple pleasure of looking into his eyes.

"Stay," he whispered at last, and there was something dangerously close to supplication in his voice.

Xiao Zhan regarded him in silence, his expression undergoing a transformation so profound that Li Yitian could only watch in helpless fascination. The carefully maintained composure that had served as his armour throughout their acquaintance seemed to dissolve beneath the weight of that single request, revealing a tenderness so fierce and sorrowful that it might have been mistaken for grief, had it not been accompanied by the faintest glimmer of hope.

For four years, Li Yitian had learned the intricate language of this man's smallest gestures, recognising displeasure in the tightening of his mouth, concern in the slight inclination of his head, and affection in those rare, unguarded smiles that appeared whenever he remembered to take his meals at a reasonable hour. He had become fluent in a language he had never consciously attempted to study, yet somehow remained ignorant of the message that had been written upon Xiao Zhan's face from the very beginning.

"Li Yitian…"

His name emerged from those beloved lips like the sweetest ambrosia, rich and intoxicating, stripped of the formal title that had always stood between them. The sound was no louder than a breath, yet it seemed to fill the vast office, passing through the accumulated silence of years until Li Yitian felt it resonate in the most secret chambers of his heart.

He had been addressed by many names throughout his life, some accompanied by respect, others by fear, and a few by the carefully manufactured affection of those who hoped to benefit from his generosity. Never before had the simple utterance of his name inspired such an extraordinary mixture of tenderness and longing that he found himself almost incapable of drawing breath.

"Again," he murmured, unable to prevent the request from escaping him.

Xiao Zhan swallowed, and the movement of his throat seemed to hold Li Yitian's attention with an intensity bordering upon madness.

"Li Yitian."

The surrender was absolute.

He had stood unmoved before men whose fortunes exceeded his own, had refused to bow beneath the weight of threats and enticements alike, yet now he discovered that his vaunted self-control was no match for the quiet devotion of a man who had never demanded anything more from him than the courtesy of being heard.

When he stepped closer, Xiao Zhan did not retreat. Instead, his gaze dropped almost involuntarily towards Li Yitian's mouth, lingering there for an instant before lifting again, and the shy, unmistakable invitation in those dark eyes sent a surge of warmth through his body that left him trembling with the effort of restraint.

"May I?" he asked, his voice roughened by an emotion too powerful to be concealed.

A smile blossomed upon Xiao Zhan's face, transforming its delicate beauty into something so radiant that Li Yitian wondered how he had ever mistaken the pale perfection of his usual composure for the full measure of his loveliness.

"You're asking me now?" the younger man whispered, a tremor of laughter mingling with the tenderness in his voice.

"I should have asked a long time ago," Li Yitian admitted, unable to look away from the lips that curved so enticingly before him.

Xiao Zhan raised his hand, and those slender fingers, whose familiar competence had guided him through a thousand ordinary mornings, curled into the loosened silk of his tie. The slight pressure drew Li Yitian forward, and when their mouths finally met, he felt the last of his resistance dissolve beneath the exquisite tenderness of a kiss that seemed to contain everything they had been too foolish, too proud, or perhaps simply too frightened to confess.

There were no words capable of describing the extraordinary sweetness of that first meeting of their lips, although Li Yitian, whose professional life depended upon finding the precise language with which to express his intentions, discovered himself willing to spend an eternity attempting it. Xiao Zhan's mouth was warm and yielding beneath his own, his breath faltering with a nervousness that made Li Yitian's heart ache, while his fingers tightened upon the silk between them with a desperate insistence that betrayed the depth of his own longing.

How many times had they stood this close, separated only by the fragile conventions of their respective positions, while the possibility of such happiness remained hidden in plain sight? How many evenings had Xiao Zhan accompanied him to his car, wished him a pleasant night, and turned away without ever revealing that his own heart might be breaking beneath the weight of their farewell?

Li Yitian could scarcely bear the thought of all those wasted opportunities, and when Xiao Zhan made a small, helpless sound against his mouth, he abandoned the last pretence of indifference and drew him closer, one hand settling carefully against his waist while the other rose to cradle the back of his head. The younger man responded with a sudden ardour that stole what remained of his breath, his fingers relinquishing the tie in favour of Li Yitian's shoulders as the hesitant exploration of their first kiss deepened into something far more urgent.

The world beyond the office windows might have ceased to exist for all the notice either man bestowed upon it. The glass towers glittering beneath the declining sun, became no more than a distant constellation surrounding the small universe they had created between them, and the familiar sounds of the executive floor faded beneath the rush of blood in Li Yitian's ears. He was aware only of the slender body held against his own, the intoxicating softness of Xiao Zhan's lips, and the extraordinary realisation that the happiness for which he had unconsciously searched through years of shallow encounters and fleeting pleasures had been standing within arm's reach all along.

He had kissed before, of course, and the memory of those encounters was neither unpleasant nor particularly remarkable. They belonged to a life in which affection had been a delightful diversion, something to be enjoyed between business engagements and set aside when more pressing obligations demanded his attention. Yet those kisses now seemed like faded imitations of a masterpiece, their brief sweetness unable to compare with the devastating tenderness of Xiao Zhan's mouth against his own.

This was a homecoming, though he had never known himself to be lost: a ship returning at last to the harbour whose distant lights had guided it through a thousand lonely nights, only to discover that the promise of safe anchorage had been waiting patiently through every storm.

When Xiao Zhan's spectacles slipped down his nose and caught awkwardly between them, the younger man broke away with a startled laugh, his cheeks flushed a delightful shade of rose and his usually immaculate hair thoroughly disordered by Li Yitian's wandering fingers.

"Your glasses," Li Yitian murmured, smiling despite the ache of separation.

"Your fault," Xiao Zhan replied, though the affection in his voice rendered the accusation entirely unconvincing.

"I shall endeavour to be more considerate."

He removed the offending spectacles with the greatest care, placing them upon the nearby desk before turning his attention once more to the man who had so completely conquered him. Without the familiar silver frames, Xiao Zhan's eyes appeared larger and infinitely more expressive, their dark depths shimmering beneath lashes that seemed almost indecently long. A faint redness lingered at their corners, and his lips, softened and slightly swollen by their kisses, possessed a beauty so irresistible that Li Yitian felt a fresh wave of longing rise within him.

He was beautiful.

Unbearably, maddeningly beautiful, and the knowledge that he had been blessed with the sight of this face every morning for four years without once allowing himself to appreciate its loveliness seemed an offence against nature itself.

"Xiao Zhan," he whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair away from the younger man's forehead, "why didn't you say anything?"

The smile upon his assistant's face faltered, and for one painful moment the old reserve threatened to return, drawing a veil across those expressive eyes. Yet Xiao Zhan remained close, his hands resting against Li Yitian's chest, where the hurried beating of his heart betrayed the extent of his agitation.

"Would you have listened?" he asked softly.

The question struck with a force that his cousin's violence had never possessed, for Li Yitian recognised within it the quiet despair of countless conversations dismissed, countless warnings ignored, and countless moments when his own arrogance had rendered him deaf to the feelings of the man who cared for him most.

He wished he could deny it. He wished, with a sudden desperation that bordered upon grief, that he might turn back the hands of time and become the man Xiao Zhan had deserved from the beginning. Yet even now, when the temptation to offer a beautiful lie was almost overwhelming, he knew that such a falsehood would only deepen the injury he had already inflicted.

"Perhaps not," he admitted, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of Xiao Zhan's cheek. "But I'm listening now."

For several moments, the younger man said nothing, and Li Yitian found himself suspended between hope and dread, awaiting his judgement with an apprehension greater than anything he had experienced before the most consequential business negotiations of his career. He understood, at last, that there were treasures no amount of money could restore once lost, and that the affection of the man standing before him was infinitely more precious than every possession bearing his name.

He lowered his hand and offered his open palm, allowing Xiao Zhan the freedom to accept or refuse the invitation, and when those slender fingers finally slipped between his own, the relief that washed over him was so profound that he had to close his eyes for a moment.

"Then listen carefully," Xiao Zhan whispered, stepping closer until the warmth of his body banished the last traces of cold left by the office wall.

His free hand settled against Li Yitian's chest, directly above the heart that had finally betrayed its owner, and when he spoke again, the words emerged with the quiet certainty of a truth that had endured far too long in silence.

"I am in love with you."

Li Yitian had never considered such ordinary words capable of destroying a man's entire understanding of the world, yet as they settled between them, he felt the magnificent edifice of his former convictions crumble into insignificance. He had spent years believing that devotion must be earned through wealth or secured through obligation, that love was a commodity like any other, subject to negotiation and the inevitable fluctuations of fortune. Xiao Zhan, however, had offered him four years of steadfast loyalty without demanding anything in return, and Li Yitian, blind fool that he was, had mistaken the most precious gift of his life for nothing more than professional diligence.

He raised their joined hands to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss against the smooth skin of Xiao Zhan's knuckles while struggling to master the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Let me love you," he answered, his voice scarcely more than a whisper, though the words carried the weight of a vow he intended to honour for the remainder of his days.

Xiao Zhan laughed, a soft and breathless sound that dissolved into something perilously close to a sob, and Li Yitian looked up to discover tears gathering along the dark fringe of his lashes. The sight pierced him with a tenderness so fierce that he could only draw the younger man into his arms, holding him against his chest.

Xiao Zhan raised his head, his eyes shining with a happiness so luminous that Li Yitian wondered whether the sun itself had descended from its lofty place in the heavens merely to witness their reconciliation.

"Always," he murmured.

And when Li Yitian bent to kiss him once more, he did so with the certainty that whatever storms might await them beyond the sanctuary of this room, he would never again mistake the comfort of familiar shores for the limitless wonder of the sea.

For the tide had finally carried him home, and this time, he had no intention of letting it take him away.