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Wang Zhi didn’t think it was a problem. Worse, he didn’t understand it.
The power struggles of the court never made much sense to him. Oh, he knew the process in and out, knew all the currents and shifts, the alliance and rivalries, knew to play it to his advantage. But he didn’t understand why. Why the officials and ministers worked so hard for more petty privileges and pieces of silver they had no need for, for scraps of power over meaningless territories within the enclosed land of the administration.
Of course, he knew the comfort of being at the top of the hierarchy – it surely made his life easier to rule supreme over the Western Depot. But he also did fine when he was still an attendant of the palace – the power and tools he needed to see his purposes fulfilled and his missions done, he could very well find them himself.
This wasn’t why most men struggled to reach those heights. They weren’t looking for more efficiency and more freedom – they wanted power for power’s sake, just to have it, just to know they could dominate those around them, command their fear, their respect.
That was a big one. Respect.
Wang Zhi didn’t get it.
He would be hard-pressed to name one person who did respect him or ever had. He had the trust and regards of His and Her Highnesses, but they were on a level that made it something else than personal consideration, too far above to even grant such a thing. He was looked down upon by the entirety of the court, he didn’t have any friends. The men he commanded knew to respect hierarchy and to fear him, but Wang Zhi had no illusion about what they thought of him personally. They understood their place, recognized his station and obeyed him, which was the important thing, as it meant his business could run smoothly.
But what they thought of him – it couldn’t matter less.
It never had. He didn’t need to be praised and he didn’t need recognition. Wang Zhi was just after one thing – to do his work well, to fulfill His Majesty’s wishes and lighten His burden. His Majesty was grateful on occasions, when he did well, and that was enough. Wang Zhi wasn’t after rewards, especially if that reward was such a trivial thing as respect. The reluctant deference people were obligated to show him by virtue of his status, that they all knew to despise him in silence while staying out of his way, it was enough.
Wang Zhi didn’t think it was a problem. After all, it never was, for him. But it was his mistake, not to remember that it was for other people. Then again, he had thought…
Ah. He had thought Ding Rong was more similar to him that he turned out to be.
He thought they had an understanding. That they shared a similar mind on this matter. Wang Zhi never received praise and he didn’t give it either, because it wasn’t the point, it was useless. He couldn’t deny being disappointed that his lieutenant had turned out to be exactly like all the rest – eager for power, for recognition. Desiring the mantle of leader of his little corner, for some strange reason.
Because Wang Zhi hadn’t given him enough. Hadn’t… what, valued him enough? Given him more power?
Thanked him?
Wang Zhi was blindsided by the man’s base desire, that it would run so deep he would turn against him, would hand him over when he knew it could cost their Emperor’s life. All so that he could be the one the men bowed to.
Wang Zhi had never earned any respect from anyone, but he had thought, maybe…
He had been wrong.
The look on Ding Rong’s face, when he'd put on the Commander’s uniform, Wang Zhi didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand why the man would crave it so. Didn’t understand him at all.
As it was, he didn’t understand himself either, on the matter of Ding Rong. Didn’t understand why, after all was said and done, he couldn’t bring himself to do away with the traitor.
He could give reasons, excuses – the man was truly capable and his death would be a waste, Wang Zhi was used to having him by his side, he was the person who knew him the most, he had served loyally and efficiently for many years, he was a rare talent among the mostly useless officials.
But a lot of people had been like that throughout history, and it didn’t prevent them from losing their life over their mistakes.
What then?
It was part of his reward, that he got to take Ding Rong with him to Hetao. His Majesty would never have let the man live otherwise, no matter his past services. Wan Han, Wan Tong and Shang Ming were protected by their high status, but Ding Rong surely wasn’t.
All that protected him, Wang Zhi realized with mild irritation, was his own attachment to him. He wondered how Ding Rong felt about that.
Wang Zhi recognized though, that it was his mistake. He knew people well, even if he didn’t understand them. He knew how they craved praises and acknowledgment, knew how to play it well. It was his mistake, for thinking Ding Rong was like him when he was like them, for thinking he didn’t need to play that game with him too.
They had to move on now.
The situation was unsustainable as it was. Wang Zhi had taken his seat as the governor of Hetao, and he’d placed Ding Rong by his side once more, because he didn’t know what else to do. But it wasn’t working and they both knew it. Ding Rong was all but chained to his side, subjected to his mercy, and just that knowledge made it impossible for Wang Zhi to treat him with anything but caution, almost pity.
It could only brew resentment in the man, could it not? It could only lead to further betrayal, or at least, to him neglecting his duties.
Wang Zhi couldn’t trust him with anything.
But they were alone here in Hetao – Wang Zhi couldn’t trust anyone at all. Not that he could before, but at least he knew the people of the capital, their strengths and weaknesses, the fine web of their interactions and bonds, he knew how to handle them.
It would take time to find his footing here – although he was quickly realizing that it maybe wouldn’t be as hard as he’d first thought.
They were far, far from the capital. The local leaders and officials had great contempt for him, but only because he was a eunuch from the palace, not because he was that eunuch. He could tell the difference between distrust for palace officials and disdain for Wang Zhi. And despite their reluctance, Wang Zhi was preceded by the rumors of his involvement in keeping their Emperor safe, and it did win him a begrudging regard that was entirely new to him.
Besides, the world was small in Hetao. The true dangers were the fights at the border, and Wang Zhi was an efficient strategist and, all in all, a fair leader, which was enough to earn his place among them. Most of their resources and attention were focused on that matter, and it left little time and opportunity for petty power grab and gossip. The officials were not all from the military, but they were all hardened to its lifestyle because of the area’s circumstances.
That straightforwardness was one side of the military that appealed to Wang Zhi, after years of fending through the deceits of court with fake smiles and honeyed lies. It reminded him of General Chen, so painfully righteous and frank, despite what it could cost him. The man’s position wasn’t far, and Wang Zhi was considering crossing the distance to meet him again. He had reasonable hope to find an ally in him, and wasn't that something.
He could grow to like it here, he thought.
But in the meantime, he needed Ding Rong to stand by his side.
It was an easy fix, wasn’t it? He just had to treat Ding Rong like he wanted. Like Wang Zhi did with the people he needed to be docile and obedient.
“The review of the armory is done,” Ding Rong said while setting a thick report down on Wang Zhi’s desk. The previous governor had poor management skills and the inventory was widely inaccurate – Ding Rong had been going over it for the past few days.
“Excellent,” Wang Zhi said with a smile. “Thank you.”
It didn’t have the intended effect. Ding Rong stared at him like he had just been insulted, and fled the room as fast as he could without outright running.
Ah. That was going to be a problem.
Wang Zhi tried it out a few more times, with resounding failure. He wasn’t doing this wrong – he was experienced in being pleasant in any circumstances and to anyone, regardless of how little they deserved it and how grating to his nerves. Ding Rong reacted every time like Wang Zhi had slapped him.
Wang Zhi couldn’t make sense of it.
Giving Ding Rong knew tasks and missions worked marginally better, but Wang Zhi maybe wasn’t able to hide his scrutiny and Ding Rong was aware he was being tested.
It couldn’t go on like this. He had to find a way.
He just wanted to go back. Back to how things were, where he didn’t need to doubt the man, where there was one person, just the one, that he didn’t have to be wary of. Maybe that was his mistake. To believe such a thing was even possible
If anything, he would settle for pretending.
“I’m sorry,” he said then. Even though he wasn’t, not really, because he still wasn’t sure what he had done wrong exactly. But maybe that would do the trick. Maybe that would appease the man.
Judging by the shocked expression on his face, it was another miss.
They were both busying themselves with paperwork and reports, bent over Wang Zhi’s desk in the governor’s office. Wang Zhi had had most of the gaudy furniture replaced with simpler, more practical ones, and he’s asked for a second desk. Despite everything he still found appeasing the silent presence of Ding Rong by his side. At present, the desk stood empty, because they had been reviewing maps of the area earlier, and Ding Rong hadn’t gone back to his place to pen the patrols’ new rounds into the records.
The hour was late, the room dimly lit, and they were alone in this wing of the governor’s residence. Maybe the proximity was what prompted Wang Zhi to break the silence they usually respected so scrupulously. Or maybe he was just fed up with all this.
“For what?” Ding Rong asked, setting his brush down to meet Wang Zhi’s gaze properly. At least he was in a mood to give some damn answers for once. But of course he had to ask the hard questions.
For what?
For whatever led you to betray me.
“I guess there are things I could have done differently.”
If I was different, then maybe…
Ding Rong looked extremely puzzled, eyes wide and brows creased in surprise.
“Do you think you’re at fault?”
He was never an expressive man, nor a talkative one. He sounded incredulous, but Wang Zhi couldn’t be sure.
“Don’t you?”
Ding Rong schooled his features back into a neutral expression. Wang Zhi clicked his tongue, frustrated.
“Aren’t I the one who should have been different?”
Ah. He dared to say it. But…
“I don’t want you different,” Wang Zhi said without thinking. Ding Rong frowned slightly, caught off guard.
But it was the truth. Even if he had turned out not to be the man Wang Zhi thought he was… But wasn’t he? All those years, Wang Zhi knew where to stand with him. And Ding Rong had had dozens of opportunities to take him down. The fact that he lasted so long… That had to count for something.
“You don’t?”
Wang Zhi shook his head, throat tight and voice failing him suddenly because…
Ah. Because he was alone in that sentiment. He could see it in the guilt shining in Ding Rong’s eyes, the startling realization.
“But you do,” he said, because he liked to torture himself maybe, because he wouldn’t let either of them get away with no having to hear it. Ding Rong looked away at last, eyes wandering over the shelves spilling with books and scrolls, waiting to be reviewed and sorted by his careful hands.
So, here it was.
Wang Zhi should have been different.
He didn’t know why it cut so deep. It wasn’t much of a surprise, but again, deep down he’d held on to the hope that Ding Rong was the exception.
“I wish you would have made it easier."
It occurred to Wang Zhi then, that he had never heard Ding Rong talk like this before. Had never heard him express his feelings and desires in any way, or even refer to himself more than through the lenses of his abilities. I can do that. He could do a lot.
Even if Wang Zhi was the one to set them on this path, it was still disarming, unexpected. This too, Wang Zhi had just… forgotten.
It was foolish of him to only consider it now, that Ding Rong did have feelings after all.
“To be disposed of?” Wang Zhi snarled, vindictive. He prided himself on his resilience – he thought Ding Rong knew him well enough to infer it wouldn’t be that easy indeed. But the man shook his head.
“To be betrayed.”
That gave him a pause. Had it been that hard, really?
“You managed just fine,” Wang Zhi said, trying to sound conversational, to take back some semblance of detachment, but he knew he just sounded accusing.
Maybe even hurt. Dammit.
Ding Rong’s lips lifted up in a faint, bitter smile.
“If you think so, maybe I didn’t do so bad, yes.”
Wang Zhi remembered that moment so clearly. He wished he didn’t, but he couldn’t escape it – the cold weight of the blade on the nape of his neck, Ding Rong taking three steps, just enough to leave his back and oppose him instead, the determination on his face when he’d proclaimed him an impostor. Wang Zhi had rarely felt at such a loss in his life, nor so wrathful. Desperate situations were nothing new, but not to this extent, when he realized he had made the mistake he’d swore to himself he never would – take someone’s loyalty for granted. Rely on another.
But he’d thought… Wang Zhi had his own loyalty to get him through this life. He had built all his self on this certitude, that he would always work toward the same goal, that all his actions, big or small, would always be fulfilling one purpose only – to serve his masters, to further their goals and help their power.
All he was accused of – corruption, selfishness, ambition, envy, cruelty – none of it mattered as long as he knew the truth. Others could doubt him, but he knew. He didn’t doubt himself. And blessedly enough, His Majesty didn’t either.
And he’d thought, he’d hoped… If maybe he too could inspire this kind of feeling, in just one person…
He knew he wasn’t an exception. There were loyal officials in the court, there were some interested in something else than their own fortune. Thanks the Heaven, there were people His Majesty could rely on beside him, and Wang Zhi had taken great care to find and protect them, to watch over the ones that could be trusted – ensure they stayed in power, and ensure they stayed this way too. There was a growing number of them.
Wang Zhi didn’t need more than one.
And that was his mistake too. It was a fool’s wish – he should have known better. He should have known.
There was no exception.
But why not sooner then? Why didn’t Ding Rong work harder to undermine him, spill his secrets, sell his schemes? Why did he oppose the burning of the Huanyi Brothel, when Wang Zhi and the others were trapped inside, such a perfect opportunity, wasted?
To think, Wang Zhi had been so pleased. So proud. Not that he’d said anything. Was that a fault too?
“Why not sooner?” he asked, because he needed to understand, he needed to know, why Ding Rong had played along for so long. There had to be another reason than to make his betrayal hurt as much as possible.
“I told you,” Ding Rong whispered, reluctant but talking still. “You made it too hard.”
But in the end, not hard enough.
“See,” Wang Zhi said with a dry laugh, “I should have done things differently after all.”
How close then had Ding Rong come not to cross that bridge, not to take that final step? It made it almost worst.
“You changed,” Ding Rong said, as if hearing the silent question. He was echoing Sui Zhou’s words, but not his sentiment. He sounded almost accusing.
“Was it such a bad thing?” Wang Zhi asked, wounded. Had Ding Rong watched with contempt all this time, Wang Zhi visiting Tang Fan in his house, feeding Dong’er in the Western Depot, asking for their help, worrying about them? Was he disappointed too, as Wang Zhi was disappointed in himself for falling into this kind of attachment, which could only brew disaster in the end?
Disaster like Ding Rong resting his blade on Wang Zhi’s neck?
“It was a good excuse.”
Strangely enough, Ding Rong stood straighter since they were in Hetao, when he should have been more subdued than ever. But it wasn’t unwelcome. He met Wang Zhi’s gaze steadily once more, sitting straight, unyielding. Reliable, once.
“I couldn’t go along.”
You changed without me.
Wang Zhi wondered at that.
“Couldn’t you?”
He had been involved. With the poison, with the Bolang, he was there. Either way, he was by Wang Zhi’s side, he wouldn't be left behind.
Should have Wang Zhi just… keep him closer?
“I needed you,” Wang Zhi said, accusing too, resentful. But there was no denying it.
“You did?”
“Yes!”
They both startled at the outburst. Wang Zhi was irrationally angry at the surprise in Ding Rong’s voice, at him doubting such a simple, obvious fact. As if he didn’t know.
How did that happen?
He felt raw, exposed, and he knew he had to retreat, to hide back, to smile, because this was too much and he couldn’t afford to be so vulnerable, especially in front of Ding Rong, who knew him best and was closest to him and who betrayed him, in the end. By leaving his back and standing in front – and maybe there laid the issue too.
So he pushed forward instead. There was no use backing down now, and how much more fractured could things get, really? It wasn’t like Ding Rong could go anywhere anyway. He would stay. No matter what Wang Zhi said.
Ding Rong tried to look away again. Frustrated, Wang Zhi reached out, grabbed his chin to force their eyes to meet again, to keep the man’s gaze on him, as it should be. Ding Rong had to look at him. Ding Rong had to understand.
“I need you now.”
The tone wasn’t right – he meant to be commanding, threatening even, but this was too earnest, to open.
Too close to heart. And so daunting, how true it was. But not as daunting as Ding Rong answering in a heartbeat, with no hesitation nor doubt.
“You have me.”
Wang Zhi startled, went to sit back, but Ding Rong grabbed his hand before it could leave his face.
He didn’t do anything with it – he seemed as stunned as Wang Zhi felt.
Wang Zhi wondered if he had it wrong then. What Ding Rong wanted, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched after all. Maybe it was just the same thing Wang Zhi did.
Just one person.
Ding Rong standing at his back, as always, and then suddenly moving in front, facing him, defying. What if he had been at his side instead? Would that have been enough?
They would never know. But things were different here. Here, far from the capital, where no one knew them and no one cared much either, things could be different. They could be different – the expectations weren’t the same, the consequences either.
“You have me,” Ding Rong said again.
Here, no one was watching.
Slowly, slowly, Ding Rong pulled Wang Zhi’s hand back to his face. As Wang Zhi’s fingers brushed against his cheek, as Ding Rong’s eyes fluttered, overwhelmed much like Wang Zhi was, he wondered if this was there before, and if so, for how long.
He wondered if this was a chance, then, among the turmoil, if they had earned that reprieve after all the trials they had been through. Wondered if this was another reward, and if he wasn’t being too greedy for the want seizing him suddenly, for how alluring that new possibility was.
He reasoned that no one needed to know. And things no one knew could do him no harm.
Wang Zhi leaned in, pulled his hand – it worked, Ding Rong followed along, so that they wouldn’t break contact. Their forehead touched, Wang Zhi sighed, something akin to relief, though he didn’t know what he had been worried about.
“Do you know why I didn’t kill you?”
He looked down, Ding Rong’s eyes too close and his nerves too frayed.
“No,” Ding Rong answered. Wang Zhi felt the word against his lips. He smiled.
It was so obvious, he didn’t get why he didn’t understand it before, why it seemed such a mystery, when the reason was so simple.
“I don’t want you to be gone.”
It had nothing to do with what Ding Rong did and didn’t do, with how talented he was and how useful he could be. Wang Zhi didn’t want him gone from his side. Such a base wish, so foolish and dangerous, yet so defining too, absolute.
“Not even now?”
Wang Zhi had never asked for a single reward, for anything at all, had never tried to grab something for himself. Just that one thing, he could be allowed, right? He could get it, could keep it. Just that one thing.
He felt defiant then, emboldened, overwhelmed by the urge to move them both forward, to cross a line they had never even dared to look at before. To get this, something that wasn’t granted to him by anyone other than himself, because his will was strong enough, because they had earned it.
He tipped his head up just so, to press their face together, to lay his lips, ever so faintly, on Ding Rong’s lips. The barest touch, and the elation, the staggering relief, when Ding Rong gasped softly but didn’t move back, eyes open wide.
“Not ever,” Wang Zhi confessed against his lips, and was rewarded, finally, by the feel of a smile answering to his own. A stray tear too, maybe, sliding on his hand. He didn't find it as alarming as he could have. He didn't feel anxious at all.
“I’m sorry,” Ding Rong said, and Wang Zhi laughed because surely the order was wrong, but he had been waiting, waiting to hear those words, just so he could answer.
“I forgive you.”
And only then did Ding Rong truly settle, and only then did Wang Zhi realized that this was what he had been waiting for too, from the start, while being unable, as he always was, as Wang Zhi was too, to chase for it.
They would have to remedy that, he thought.
He didn’t feel the need to warn him off, to hear him say it was the first and last time, to order him – beg of him – never to do it again. There was no use in the words, and against all logic, against all his principles, Wang Zhi simply trusted it wasn’t needed.
Wanted to trust, at any rate. Decided to.
They would do it different this time.
They wouldn’t let go.