Chapter Text
If Zhou Zishu believed in Gods, he might think this weather was a punishment from them, a never-ending assault from the pitch black clouds above head. Two days, two days of endless downpour.
Each droplet of rain that hits his skin holds the force of a nail being driven in, crashing down from the black angry clouds seemingly filled with rage, resounding with loud thumps each time his dǒu lì is hit.
He has no choice but to brave the beating storm, even as his steed slips in the mud and huffs angrily every minute or so, he doesn’t stop. After all, Prince Yi will want his report as soon as possible.
Sīmìng lets out another huff, carefully walking up a small embankment while his hooves slip periodically, somehow radiating his annoyance at their situation. Zishu pats his neck with a small smile.
“We are almost to the main road.” He promises, running his fingers through its mane. “We can rest once we hit the next town.” The horse huffs again with displeasure, but continues forward, wary of the pitfalls and mud underfoot, which are now covered by water. The storm has turned into a small flood, and in the treacherous forest at the base of Mount Qingya, a landslide isn’t a far off possibility. They either need to stop now, or risk hurrying to the next town. Though which one Sīmìng would prefer is rather obvious.
He sighs in defeat, tapping his shoes against the horse's flank. “Alright, you win. Let me find an area for us to wait out the storm.”
Zishu carefully slides off of his horse, his boots landing in around an inch and a half of rushing water. “Wait here.” He orders the horse, grabbing the nearest tree and using his qinyong to easily reach the top.
Unfortunately without the interference of the leaves, through the rain it’s near impossible to see more than five feet ahead of him. They may have no choice but to continue forward.
However he stays a few seconds longer than necessary, feeling the cold and biting water wash him clean. Perhaps it could wash the rest of the blood off of his body, in a perfect world it would wash the blood from his hands entirely. Though he knows he shouldn’t think of such things, he begins to wonder yet again if he made the right decision by joining the Prince. As a naive sixteen year old, the answer was simple, he never considered his life could turn out this way.
With another heavy sigh he jumps from his perch on the tree, landing on the ground as softly as a drifting leaf.
Which is why he’s so confused when he’s suddenly tumbling down the embankment, choking on water and mud.
His training lets him easily land on his feet, though his vision is too blurred to be very useful. It’s not until it clears that he figures out what happened.
A man around his age sits a few chi away from him, covered in tattered red robes, though not only from the fall. His black hair is soaking wet and clinging to his features, only accentuating his sharp oval jaw and his full lips. His brows are set in pain as he cradles the ankle resting on his lap, ripping off another piece of what little robe he had left to wrap it. However the most interesting thing is his presence, or rather the lack of it. Zishu hadn’t sensed him coming, even while he was colliding with him.
The man suddenly freezes once he finishes the tie on his ankle, as if he’s just noticed him as well. His eyes dart up to his in less than an instant, they’re tapered and colored like the darkest obsidian, accompanied by large full lashes that catch small drops of rain. He feels as though he’s looking into an empty abyss when he meets them.
They stay still for a moment, each one trying to figure out the other, and each one coming back with question marks. The rain is far too heavy to catch a scent, which is how he normally judges strangers.
But then there is a chorus of voices, and the man can’t look away fast enough, scrutinizing the bank above head with a harsh set to his jaw. He finally looks back and meets his eyes again.
The sound of his voice is almost musical, even though it’s covered by the sound of rain. “Come with me.”
Zishu is so taken off guard by the order he almost laughs. “Excuse me?”
The man rolls his eyes. “Either come with me, or wait here and die. It is your choice.” And then with the flick of his hair he begins to run further into the forest, leaving Zishu thoroughly confused at the current situation.
The voices become closer, though still garbled by the incessant rain. There were several of them, five at the very least judging by the clashing of different voices.
Now Zishu was not scared of a confrontation, he was certain he could take them no matter who they were. But Zishu also didn’t have such an inflated ego as to think he was invincible, and the incoming flood certainly didn’t help the situation.
So as the voices get closer, he peers into the forest where the man disappeared, and begins to chase after him.
With his injured ankle, the man hasn’t gotten very far by the time Zishu catches up. Farther than he would have expected though.
He doesn’t comment at his sudden appearance, just continues forward as fast as he can, somehow remaining on his feet even slipping and struggling through the mud. They run- well the man hobbles- to what amounts to a half lǐ by the time they stop, and then turns suddenly and heads towards a wall of thick ivy. He simply pushes it aside, and enters whatever cavern is hidden behind it without hesitation.
Now, Zishu is a rather cautious man, he truly is, but his inquisitive nature often works against him. Even though he very well could be walking into a death trap, he’s far too curious not to, also he has now landed himself almost stranded in the middle of the never ending storm. Against his better judgment, he follows the man inside.
It is, as he suspected, a small cave, only twenty chǐ or so long, and hardly tall enough to sit in, around two cùn above Zishu’s head, leaving the man’s pressing against the top.
With only a short distance between the two, they begin to unabashedly stare at each other, each equally suspicious and curious. However, the man still has no scent. Could the rain still be masking it?
This close, even in the dim light, Zishu notices how skinny the man is. Though muscular, there’s not a liǎng of fat padding his bones. As he saw earlier, his robes are ripped to shreds, though obviously very expensive, he suspects they were rather lewd even before their current condition. The neckline is a wide V, starting from the outer top of his shoulders and coming to around a cun below his protruding collarbones, the golden belt around his lower ribs is tight, and matches the golden wraps around the middle of his bicep, which is immediately followed by long loose red sleeves that easily fall open, though perhaps the rain has something to do with that. His lower robe is ripped practically everywhere, however there is an intentional split up the right side, ending mid thigh. The robes give him a good view of the state of his skin; horribly bruised in several places, and scattered with scars and cuts. One such cut freshly bleeding down his arm, yet the man doesn’t seem to notice it.
Zishu simply nods towards it, deciding to break the silence, though silence is a relative term with the echoing of pounding rain bouncing through the small cavern. “You are injured.”
The man seems almost confused until he looks to his arm with blood dripping all the way down to his fingers.
He mutters a small curse and rips another part of his clothing off. Zishu looks away immediately, at this rate he would be naked by the end of the xiǎo shí. Though his attention is quickly caught again when the man rubs his hand on the dirty cave floor and begins to put it on his wound.
“What are you doing?!”
He looks up, once again confused. “That way they cannot smell the blood as well.”
“You will get it infected.” Zishu chastised, crossing his arms like a fretting mother.
“If the alternative is death, I can handle a little infection.”
“Infection can lead to death.” Zishu points out with irritation.
The other releases a small smile, just barely tilting the corner of his mouth. “Die now, or die later. I prefer the latter.”
Zishu rolls his eyes and begins to dig in his robes, noting how the man’s eyes suddenly harden and turn defensive. “You could have just asked if I had any medicine.” He pulls out a small bottle of cream, his own herbal blend he’s found beneficial for all types of wounds. It doesn’t smell like daisies, but it has earthy undertones from the herbs he uses, good at covering the tinged smell of iron.
He doesn’t take it right away, simply keeps his sharp eyes on the bottle as if considering it a weapon. Zishu sighs loudly and pulls his dagger from his robes, sliding the blade ever so slightly over his finger, before putting it back. He then takes the balm, rubs his clean finger inside, and uses it on his fresh wound.
When he looks back the man’s eyes are wide and his mouth slightly slack, looking utterly shocked. Before Zishu can snap at him to stop staring, something unexpected happens. He begins to laugh.
At the beginning, Zishu found his voice musical, but his laughter blows that out of the water; light and unrestrained except for the palms he placed over his mouth to muffle it.
For a moment Zishu isn’t sure what to think of it, as he didn’t mean it to be a joke, but the more the other laughs the more he questions if he just missed the punchline.
Eventually he calms down, Zishu has been watching intently every second, raising a curious eyebrow.
The man lets out a small chuckle, but once it’s gone it is replaced with a brilliant smile. Zishu feels his heart skip, and is very annoyed by it.
“My name is Wen Kexing.” He says, nodding his head slightly. “And you are?”
Zishu looks him over again. Judging by his current state, its rather unlikely for him to be some sort of plant or spy digging for information. After all, he seems to be quite busy himself. But again, he is still cautious by nature. No matter how many times his worse judgment overrules it.
“Zhou Xu.”
“Zhou…” He breathes back, hardly audible. “I had a friend with that title a very long time ago.” The man’s expression changes to something new. Even with the still present tilt of his lips, something lingers behind his eyes. Sadness maybe? Nostalgia? Either way, in the next second it’s gone, that guarded gaze pushed back to the front lines.
With the way his face changed, just at the mention of the name, he can’t help but ask, “… who is he?”
Wen Kexing’s eyes continue to stare, a small wariness in his voice. “Why do you want to know?”
Zishu just shrugs. “What else do we have to do?”
That small smile tilts his lips again, but slowly falls. He’s studying him again, like he’s wondering if Zishu is sincere in his innocence. He seems to decide when he begins to speak.
“… He was-”
“Did you find him?” A voice begins to echo through the forest outside, sounding irritated but still far away.
Wen Kexing’s eyes turn from guarded to downright dangerous, the eyes of an animal ready to charge if someone dare get too close.
“No! That brat is fast.”
“Keep looking! Ghuzu will have our heads if we don’t find him!”
He slowly inches towards the ivy wall, Wen Kexing doing the same just across from him. As they inch closer, Zishu can’t help but notice that Wen Kexing’s stance is nearly identical to his, and uses it just as well as himself. It’s almost like watching his own reflection.
They both barely part the ivy concurrently, hardly enough to see out of one eye. The man is getting closer, only around ten chi away, close enough for Zishu to see through the storm and get a glimpse of him.
The man is in a layered hanfu of red, clad with a leather belt. It is adorned by several black ropes with animal skulls hanging off periodically, and underneath the outer robe show black pants and black boots. However the most telling thing about him is the mask covering his face. The face of a devil.
He is from Ghost Valley.
Zishu drops the ivy and turns to Wen Kexing, who is pretending not to notice- though with how focused he seems to be on the man, he might not.
Why would the Ghost Valley be hunting someone like him?
“I cant see anything in this rain!” He starts screaming up the hill. “We should look once the storm passes!”
“He will be gone by then! Ghuzu will kill us if we lose him. Keep looking!”
His voice begins to fade as he moves away, further into the cover of the storm until he is completely out of sight.
It takes the count of a fēn for the man’s shoulders to relax ever so slightly, and then drop the ivy back to its cover.
“Ghost Valley?” Zishu doesn’t feel like giving him a breath. “Why is Ghost Valley after you?”
At the question Wen Kexing’s entire posture goes rigid, even more defensive than when faced with the physical threat of the man. His dark eyes have somehow turned even darker, his features becoming sharper. He stares at him for only a few seconds more.
“Lets go.”
“Wh-” Without another word Wen Kexing parts the ivy and takes a scan of the area, or at least as much as he can see, before simply walking out.
Zishu scrambles to follow him.
“Where are you going?”
“You have a horse, right?”
Zishu fumbles for a second, not sure what that has to do with anything but responding anyway. “Yes?”
“I need you to take me somewhere.”
“You- excuse me?!”
“Your horse is this way, right?”
Zishu reaches out to grab his arm, to pull him to a stop, but he doesn’t expect the reaction he gets.
Before his hand even lands Wen Kexing has taken a step to the side on his good ankle, and clasped his long fingers around his wrist in a death grip. In the next second he’s twisting Zishu’s arm behind his back in an attempt to immobilize him. At this point, Zishu’s instincts kick in. He follows the motion and dips under his grip, unraveling his arm before it can be pressed into his back and swinging his foot during his rotation. Kexing takes a step back dodging the foot barreling towards him, but his grip loosens ever so slightly, and Zishu quickly slips out. Taking his new freedom he uses the swift moving steps to dart behind. Kexing follows almost as quickly, but then stumbles on his injury. Zishu kicks his leg out again, and this time it lands. The surprise is visible on the man’s face, and Zishu is equally as surprised when he manages to grab his wrist and bicep as he falls, and pull Zhou Zishu down with him. In the flurry, Zhou Zishu lands on top of him, but is turned around and pinned in the next blink of an eye, warm hands around his cold wrists yet again.
“I win.” The beast above him nearly purrs, tightening his hold for less than a second before loosening it again.
A pit of annoyance and… definitely not anything else- spurs him into action. In one smooth motion he bends his knees and twists his body, using the ground as his leverage. Though Wen Kexing doesn’t seem like he’d resist either way.
Their positions are suddenly switched, Zhou Zishu’s hands now capturing his wrists and pinning him still, also straddling but hooking his calves around the other’s legs as well to keep him from turning the tables yet again.
“You lose.”
Both of them are panting, just at the excitement of a random spar, until Wen Kexing begins to smile and breaks into laughter. Zishu simply stays on top of him, studying the strange man he holds, but eventually finds himself with the ghost of a smile as well. His laughter is annoyingly infectious.
The laughter dies down into small chuckling, but his smile doesn’t change, he keeps looking up, making no attempt to break from the grip or move in any way. His warm body is completely lax underneath him, but a rosy blush begins to rise on his cheeks, even in the cold water. His smile falters slightly and he stops meeting his eyes.
“W-what? Am I so stunning you cannot look away?” It is supposed to be a joke, Zishu knows it’s a joke, but he can hardly hold back a soft reply of yes.
His black hair clung to his bones, the water seeming to caress his body with gentleness of a lover, causing an impulsive urge to stroke his skin, skin he can only imagine is softer than silk. His dark eyes, now downturned with timidness, are enhanced with long black lashes, so thick that they shadow like they’re lit by the moon. Even in the horrid rain his cheekbones are highlighted by the clouds, somehow sharpening and softening his features at the same time. The impulse to stroke his skin becomes stronger, followed by the impulse to… his hands squeeze tighter around his wrists, causing the man underneath him to gasp deliciously. Without the capability of thought he bends his head down towards Wen Kexing, whose lips are open slightly. But Zishu ignores them, and instead, nuzzles into the crook of his neck, nudging the gland around his neck with his nose. The man shivers.
And then Zishu notices it. He still has no scent.
Alarm bells begin to ring in his ears, the Qinyuan inside of him insisting that someone without a scent cannot be trusted.
Zishu practically jumps off of him, uselessly trying to brush the mud off of his clothes, though it will be gone in a few seconds from the downpour.
Wen Kexing pulls himself from the ground with a small hint of pain in his eyes, but it’s gone in the next second, replaced by his blank expression.
“I need you to take me somewhere.”
Zishu turns back to him, incredulous. “And why would I do that?”
“I saved your life.”
“Saved my-?! How in the world did you save my life?!”
Wen Kexing shrugs, but it is clear he is enjoying his reaction. “I took you with me to hide so they did not kill you.”
“You did not save my life!”
“I did.”
“You did not!”
“All I am asking is for you to drop me off somewhere! I cannot walk very far since you have crippled me.”
“And how did I cripple you?!” This man! This man is absolutely insane!
“I only hurt my ankle because you dropped down in front of me!”
“That is-!” … shit. “That doesn’t count!”
“And who says so?”
“You-!” Zishu growls in annoyance, scolding himself for rising to the man’s infantile bait, they are both standing in the middle of a monsoon arguing like children. “I’m leaving.”
He has the intuition to expect Wen Kexing to follow him, yet it is annoying all the same.
“Stop following me.” He snaps, pushing more wet hair out of his face for it to just fall back down.
“We are in the middle of nowhere! Where am I to go?”
“I don’t care, as long as it’s away from me.”
He hears a whine from behind him and the man catches up, placing a hand on his shoulder- or at least attempting to, Zishu pivots out of its path before it can land.
Their eyes meet again, this time filled with an unseen tension even their earlier spar lacked. Wen Kexing is the one who breaks the standoff, pulling a white fan out of his sleeve, before frowning at the rain and putting it back.
Zishu only stares at him for a second longer before turning back towards his previous destination. Once again expecting to be followed, but increasingly annoyed all the same.
He lets out a sigh of relief he wasn’t aware he was holding when he comes across Sīmìng, the stallion seemingly unharmed, though he glares at him for abandoning him in the rain.
His attention shifts when he sees Wen Kexing trailing behind him.
Sīmìng does not like strangers, no matter if they are betas or alphas, he simply does not like those he doesn’t know. And as he sees the man approaching, Zishu crosses his arms and coyly smiles.
Which is why it’s so strange when Wen Kexing approaches him so casually and puts his hand out, waiting for the horse to press his nose against it, asking permission to touch the stallion. Zishu’s lips part slightly when the horse does exactly that, in fact he cuddles into his hand!
He never even does that to Zishu himself!
He’s not jealous. Definitely not. He’s only gritting his teeth because he’s drenched in the cold.
That stupi- Wen Kexing, turns to him with a wide taunting smile. “I don’t think he would mind me accompanying you.”
“Well he does not get a say in the matter.”
“He’s the one going to be carrying us.”
“Well he’s-” A horse, Zishu reminds himself in exasperation. Not only is he arguing with an ass he’s arguing with a horse.
Without saying another word he climbs onto Sīmìng’s back with the shake of his head. Wen Kexing smiles widely and begins towards him. Zhou Zishu in no way helps the man even as he struggles, but he doesn’t immediately push him off either.
With a large huff of air he finally makes it behind the saddle, holding a large pout on his lips.
“Ah Xu, you’re so mean!”
Zishu blanches at the form of address. “Ah Xu?!”
Wen Kexing has the audacity to look offended. “Oh, Ah Xu. After going through so much together you can not think of me as such a stranger!”
“We met a xiao shi ago.”
The man smiles dreamily, tapping his chin. “Ah, and what good times those were.”
“That’s it, get off.” He ends up huffing angrily, yet makes no move to push him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll shut up now.”
“I doubt you’re physically capable of such a thing.” He spurs the horse into a small unexpected trot, forcing Wen Kexing to scramble not to fall and bringing a pang of smug satisfaction to his own chest.
“You don’t even know where we’re going!”
“I know where I’m going, you on the other hand can get off wherever you would like.”
“Oh? And where is it you’re going?” The other asks with obvious interest.
Oops.
“None of your business.”
“Oh come on Ah Xu, I need to know how close we will get to Suqian.”
… shit.
“I’m going in that general direction.”
“Oh? Where are you headed, Linyi?”
“I already told you it was none of your business.”
“So that’s a yes. And guessing by your uniform-”
“What happened to shutting up?”
“You will miss my voice too much.”
“I’m certain I can suffer through it.”
“But you don’t have to.”
Zishu lets out a breath and shakes his head again, not dignifying the conversation any further.