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It’s another ordinary day on DCU campus, which is to say, yet again Zhao Yunlan is caught up in a Dixingren crime. Today’s perpetrator is a pompous graduate student who couldn’t help but use his power – a worryingly fine control of electricity – to wipe out his competitors’ computer drives and thus their research. Zhao Yunlan tangles with him on the grounds outside the Bio-Engineering Building, narrowly avoiding a jolt which would probably have stopped his heart, and is not exactly winning when Hei Pao Shi shows up in a wash of cold air and frost to apprehend the boy.
Everything chills out very quickly – the introduction of temperatures similar to liquid nitrogen will do that – and Hei Pao Shi stands with a heavy hand on his captive’s shoulders. His dark, gleaming eyes look out from the depths of his mask. “Has he done you any injury, Zhao-chuzhang?”
Zhao Yunlan throws his hands up behind his head, stretching. “Nah – nope, I’m fine. A little punk like that couldn’t take me down. Really, your presence wasn’t so urgent, Hei Lao-ge. I wouldn’t like to trespass on your time.”
“It was no trespass,” intones the black cloaked figure. The weight of his gaze is heavy as the pull of the ocean depths, old and immeasurable. His words are clipped as ever, as if conversation is foreign to him. “Thank you for your efforts.”
“Oh, sure, absolutely. Just doing my job. Keeping the city safe. And the university too – such a jewel, so many precious people here today.” It’s a stupid thing to say, especially to an age-old entity who has never displayed anything as individual as a personality. But Zhao Yunlan is self-aware enough to know exactly how smitten he is with a certain professor, and he’s never had much success in containing the excesses of his heart. He gives himself a pat on the back for repressing the urge to look up at Shen Wei’s window.
“Yes,” says Hei Pao Shi, apparently in agreement. Which is… odd. Zhao Yunlan frowns at him, and maybe he realises the strangeness because he lifts a hand and opens a portal. He steps through, dragging his captive, without another word.
The portal closes.
Zhao Yunlan shrugs, and looks up at Shen Wei’s window now that he’s alone with his thoughts and his humming heart. He has time for a quick visit.
Arriving at Shen Wei’s office, he finds the door closed. The light inside is on, so he knocks.
“Enter.”
Zhao Yunlan pushes the door open and steps in, already grinning. Shen Wei is sitting at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him and a small possibly antique tea cup to his left. Zhao Yunlan saunters forward, hands in his pockets, and preens a little at the wide-eyed gaze Shen Wei gives him – surprised, but not displeased. He throws himself down into a chair opposite the desk, crossing his legs and enjoying the way they catch Shen Wei’s attention, his eyes on the tight line of Zhao Yunlan’s jeans.
Zhao Yunlan probably would have produced a lollypop in a minute, entirely prepared to try to attract more of Shen Wei’s attention, except that his eye is drawn to the cup on Shen Wei’s desk. And the thin layer of ice atop what was probably hot tea. There are crystals trailing down the porcelain side, and glinting in a shimmering layer on his desk.
Shen Wei follows his line of sight, and stiffens. “Ah –”
Shen Wei’s office overlooks the greenspace below where Zhao Yunlan was wrestling with the Dixingren student. Anyone here could easily have seen it. Including Hei Pao Shi.
“Shen-jiaoshou. You know Hei Lao – Hei Pao Shi?” The name feels stiff on his tongue – he much prefers to be familiar and irreverent. He restrains himself out of need for clarity.
Shen Wei looks – not frozen, but calculating. Zhao Yunlan is familiar with this, with Shen Wei’s occasional cageyness. If he can prompt him with an inescapable argument, though, he will acknowledge it. Zhao Yunlan can tell Shen Wei bends the truth on occasion. But he doesn’t think he’s ever lied to him.
No. He wants to believe that.
“He was here, wasn’t he? In your office? He saw me outside, and came to do his job. There aren’t many things in an administrative office that could freeze a cup of tea to a desk,” he adds, pointedly.
“I – yes,” admits Shen Wei, quietly. “He was here.”
Zhao Yunlan straightens, falling out of his casual posture. “Are you in trouble? Shen Wei – are you Dixingren?”
Zhao Yunlan has never known Hei Pao Shi to act outside of his mandate. As far as he knows, the Envoy isn’t even above ground when he’s not pursuing a lawbreaker. It’s the nearest thing to proof that he’s had that Shen Wei is wrapped up in much more than he seems to be. He’s always been supremely suspicious. He’s just always also been supremely attractive. Not just physically, but for his personality as well. Kind, polite, intelligent – and perfectly able to stand up for himself.
If anything, this should increase Zhao Yunlan’s suspicions. Instead, he finds anxiousness balling up in his stomach, tugging with little painful hooks at his innards.
“I’m not in trouble,” says Shen Wei, rather quickly. “I – Hei Pao Shi wanted information on some of my students. Including the one who attacked you.”
Zhao Yunlan blinks. “You saw that?”
Shen Wei nods to the window. Great, so Shen Wei saw Zhao Yunlan get knocked on his ass by a man almost ten years younger than him. Admittedly, he had the ability to generate enough electricity to melt sand into glass. Something decidedly beyond the power of Zhao Yunlan’s right hook. “The Envoy left in rather a hurry,” he says. “Are you alright?”
Zhao Yunlan rolls his shoulders absently. “Fine, fine. I just – didn’t think you had Dixing connections.”
“Well, I do study Dixingren biology,” points out Shen Wei, in a very reasonable tone. “Hei Pao Laoshi isn’t interested in academic studies, of course, but young Dixingren do sometimes gravitate to the university. Almost all of them have done nothing wrong,” he adds, immediately, looking momentarily stern. It’s delightful, his protectiveness of his students. Shen Wei truly is an exceptional professor.
Zhao Yunlan raises his eyebrows. “So Shen-jiaoshou is running an underground railway? And Hei Pao Laoshi knows about it?”
Shen Wei pales. “Certainly not. There is no such organization, and I am not involved in convening or aiding Dixingren students. I am merely… more likely to correctly interpret rumours than other professors, given my subject area. If I was aware of dangerous or illegal activity, naturally I would report it.”
“You’ve never reported it to me,” points out Zhao Yunlan.
There’s a moment of quiet between them. Shen Wei runs his fingers over the rim of his cup, which must be frigid. The ice on his desk is melting, forming a little puddle that reflects the ceiling lights. He looks up from beneath the fringe of his lashes, a look that in another would be calculating but in Shen Wei feels just reticent. “Forgive me, Zhao-chuzhang. I haven’t known you very long. And the former director’s reputation was… concerning. While I support lawful behaviour and justice, I don’t think I could turn over a student if I was unsure what treatment they would receive. Of course, this is no longer the case,” he adds, hurriedly, straightening out of his becoming pose. “But I have a little more experience with Hei Pao Shi.”
The one implication that Zhao Yunlan finds charming in this statement is the idea that Shen Wei has the power or even the awareness to retain custody of students whose fate he fears for. It’s wildly in line with Zhao Yunlan’s assessment of the professor – morally righteous, but also adorably naïve.
“Well, I don’t love that you’ve been afraid to come to us for help, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” He doesn’t ask Shen Wei again if he’s from Dixing. The non-answer suggests he is, but Zhao Yunlan is also aware that Shen Wei clearly is more subtle than he perhaps initially believed him to be. “Tell me more about Hei Pao Shi. How did you meet? Are you friends? Does he ever take off that mask?” He leans back, letting the intensity of his questions fade into chatter.
Shen Wei, still upright, does not relax. “He is a respected institution, Zhao-chuzhang,” he says, just a hint of reprimand in his voice.
Zhao Yunlan lifts his eyebrows. “Is he an institution? Or a man? I suppose I never wondered – but it must be hard to be both, hm?”
“He is a man,” says Shen Wei, slowly. He sounds very clear on the matter; surprising. “But really, I would prefer not to discuss him. He is not someone to… gossip about.” His look at Zhao Yunlan is, just very slightly, repressive. From anyone else he would find the rebuke insulting; on Shen Wei it just looks hot, like a stern professor.
Zhao Yunlan laughs. “I see, I see. Shen-jiaoshou believes all the hype.”
With one hand, Shen Wei unsticks his tea cup, the remaining ice thin as the skin on a cooling bowl of soup; it falls to pieces and melts as he lifts the vessel. “The ‘hype’,” he says, slowly, “is quite real.”
It’s just a little irking, how respectful he is. More respectful than he seems, for example, towards Zhao Yunlan.
“Maybe you could tell me more about him,” begins Zhao Yunlan. “Say, over dinner tonight? I can make reservations!” He waggles his eyebrows.
Shen Wei puts down the cup and picks up his pen. “I’m afraid,” he says, with a polite but cool smile, “that I’m quite busy.”
***
The next time Zhao Yunlan is involved in a DCU investigation, it involves Yang Xi, a young woman who is desperately stalking physician researchers as she searches for a cure for her younger sibling with a degenerative disease. The stalking, unfortunately, tends to end with her stealing her targets’ memories.
This time, Hei Pao Shi gets there first. Zhao Yunlan, tipped off by the appearance of crackling lightning in an otherwise blue sky over the soccer field, arrives to find the Envoy ripping away from Yang Xi in a swirl of black fabric. Zhao Yunlan can’t tell whether she actually managed to even touch him or not, but regardless the next moment he has caught her by the arm and twisted it up behind her back, holding her still as she sobs and squirms.
“Zhao-chuzhang,” he says, in his usual emotionless affect. “All is under control.”
“Great – Hei Lao-ge is so industrious! Truly, he deserves his reputation.”
Hei Pao Shi just looks at him, as if waiting to confirm Zhao Yunlan doesn’t have anything important to say.
“I’m interested to know how you managed to track our suspect down. You haven’t been involved in the investigation. What a fine sense for wrongdoing you must have.”
Hei Pao Shi stares, unblinking. Finally he speaks: “I was advised by Shen Wei-jiaoshou.”
Zhao Yunlan grins. “Ah, of course. The University’s brightest gem, its number one beauty, and incidentally most popular lecturer. Even Hei Lao-ge isn’t immune to his draw, hm? Of course, as an innocent civilian, I hope he is being treated with all the respect he’s due.” Zhao Yunlan keeps the smile on his face, but he lets a thread of threat slip into his tone.
“Naturally,” agrees Hei Pao Shi. “You have my word, Zhao-chuzhang. I will never disrespect him.”
Before Zhao Yunlan can dig into that rather extreme statement, the Envoy has ripped open a portal, and is dragging Yang Xi through.
In a thoughtful frame of mind, Zhao Yunlan crosses the lovely green campus, carefully planted with tall shady trees and verdant shrubbery, to the Bio-Engineering Building.
He finds Shen Wei in his office, standing beside a boiling kettle on a small bar cart. Instead of alcohol it holds an antique tea set, with metal and wooden caddies on the bottom shelf. A charming touch. He looks up at Zhao Yunlan’s entrance, a sharp turn of his head, and greets him quietly.
Usually, when he comes here, Zhao Yunlan sits either on the sofa or in one of the guest chairs. But today, with Shen Wei busy making tea, he comes around behind the desk and leans up against it. It feels strangely intimate, a boundary crossed. Shen Wei scoops out tea into the teapot, his eyes tightening just slightly as he moves his wrist. If Zhao Yunlan hadn’t been watching him so closely, he wouldn’t have seen it. But he does.
Standing, he crosses to Shen Wei’s side to watch him pour the water in, and place the lid neatly atop the teapot. When he’s done, before Shen Wei can move away, he catches the professor’s arm.
Shen Wei’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “Zhao-chuzhang –”
Zhao Yunlan unbuttons the white cuff of his perfectly ironed shirt and pushes it and the suit jacket up. Beneath it, there’s no watchstrap on his wrist. But there is a set of light bruises – the grip of a hand.
“Who hurt you, Shen Wei?” He only realises how tightly he’s holding Shen Wei’s arm, how close he’s pressed himself, when the professor pulls away from him, smoothing his sleeve back down over the marks. His gaze is low, the fan of his lashes shading his eyes, and there’s a pinkness in his ears. Not fear, or hurt. But maybe… embarrassment?
“No, it’s – not. That.” Shen Wei thumbs the button closed, with a carefulness that’s nearly prissy.
“Not what? Someone grabbed you. Who was it? Hei Pao Shi? He got the information on our suspect out of someone.”
Shen Wei looks up, eyes bright. “He would not use force to procure information.” He sounds indignant. His fingers smooth over his now-covered wrist, as if caressing it. Zhao Yunlan frowns.
“O-kay. Maybe he just got a little too excited? A little intense? Do you like –” Zhao Yunlan swallows the horrific words that are about to come out of his mouth; do you like it rough?
Could that be it? Could the marks be something else entirely? Not inflicted in violence, but passion?
Zhao Yunlan feels like he’s about to choke on his own tongue. It’s true that Shen Wei hasn’t exactly verbalized his feelings for Zhao Yunlan, but he’s seemed pretty interested. Captivated, even, by Zhao Yunlan’s mouth, by the stretch of his thighs and the warmth of his clingy touches. Surely he hasn’t misread the situation.
Surely Shen Wei isn’t intimate with Hei Pao Shi. The way he’s staring at Zhao Yunlan with wide, appalled eyes suggests that.
“Then was it someone else? Yang Xi? Shen-jiaoshou, did she threaten you?” Zhao Yunlan frowns, worried and wondering. How Shen Wei could have escaped, if so. How –
Shen Wei’s voice is sharp, whip-like. “No! No, it was – an accident. Clumsiness, on my part. To do with Hei Pao Shi.”
Zhao Yunlan’s eyebrows rise. “Hei Lao-ge touched you? Grabbed you?” It seems so perfectly in conflict with his perception of the masked Envoy, all ice and distance. What about Shen Wei could prompt such extreme reaction? He’s polite, reserved, neutral as water. At least, as far as his in-office personality goes; he’s certainly displayed hints that there’s a fire behind his eyes, something hungry and snapping. All of which to say, it’s hard to imagine he could make a response that would prompt the Envoy to use a bruising grip.
But his looks, though. Those heavily-lashed eyes, the fineness of his features and the rich pinkness of his lips, the breadth of his shoulders and the narrow tuck of his waist… Not to mention his always-impeccable dress. It certainly makes Zhao Yunlan want to ruffle him, to crowd in close and shove his hot hands up beneath that neatly ironed linen and ruin him.
Does Hei Pao Shi feel the same? Can he? According to legend he’s 10,000 years old. Dixingren live longer than Haixingren, but not that much longer. Zhao Yunlan has always thought of him as a… force. Power personified, with a purpose and a stilted manner. Is he even capable of something as natural as want?
Is Zhao Yunlan competing with a 10,000 year-old live wire in a cloak for Shen Wei’s affections?
Shen Wei is rubbing at his wrist again, looking shy. “It’s really just – between us, Zhao-chuzhang. You have my word, Hei Pao Shi did not overstep his boundaries.”
You have my word, Zhao-chuzhang. I will never disrespect him. The similarity of his statement to Hei Pao Shi’s makes Zhao Yunlan shiver. Maybe there truly is something between them?
He smiles thinly and nods. “Okay. Okay, then. But if he does – if you ever feel unsafe…”
Shen Wei’s eyes soften, his mouth petal-fine as the corners curl upwards. “Thank you, Zhao-chuzhang. I appreciate your kindness.” And then, in a lighter tone, waving his hand at the bar cart, “Tea?”
***
Much wheedling on his part convinces Shen Wei to come out for dinner with him. Although Shen Wei certainly hasn’t welcomed his interest with open arms, Zhao Yunlan is sure he can see it. Shen Wei’s always watching him when he’s in the room, no matter who else is, his eyes anchored on Zhao Yunlan as if by force. He never turns away Zhao Yunlan, no matter how busy he is with his job, and he often abandons it to follow Zhao Yunlan on investigations. And, unmistakably, undeniably, when Zhao Yunlan touches him – a brush of their elbows, fingers over Shen Wei’s nape, his arm around the professor’s shoulders – Shen Wei tenses up, but then melts into it. Zhao Yunlan knows the many faces of pure tender desire, and he reads it in the lovely line of Shen Wei’s body.
Dinner is cut unexpectedly short when the diner behind them recognizes Zhao Yunlan and has a monumental freak-out. Zhao Yunlan blocks the elbow thrown at his throat, but misses the backhand holding a heavy plate. It cracks into his temple and he goes over, the room spinning.
Everything blends together like finger-paint into a muddy indistinct reality for some unknown time. When Zhao Yunlan’s thoughts untangle themselves and he’s able to make sense of what his body’s telling him, he realises he’s sitting on the floor being held close to someone’s chest, the arms around him strong and steady. There’s a soft scent of ambergris and cedar mixed with lemongrass and just a hint of musk. Pleasant; refined; complex. He nuzzles in against it, enjoying it, somehow reassured. There’s a cool sensation at the back of his head, chill tendrils twining around his skull. He wants to relax into this embrace, lean in and close his eyes.
Well, fuck that, he’s a cop.
Zhao Yunlan forces his eyes open and sees a white collared shirt and a blue silk ascot. Shen Wei. Shen Wei is kneeling beside him, holding him. The strange coolness behind his head – an ice pack? – falls away as he shifts.
“Zhao-chuzhang? Are you alright?” Shen Wei looks down at him, eyes wide and concerned. There’s a background hubbub of noise, chattering conversations.
“You smell nice, sweetheart,” he says, because they’re the first words that come to mind. Shen Wei looks, if anything, more concerned. So Zhao Yunlan sits up, pulling reluctantly free of his arms, and rubs the back of his head. No coolness there, no lingering chill from ice. Did he imagine it? “What happened?”
“You were attacked by someone seated behind you. He fled when you went down. I called your office – Chu Shuzhi? – to notify them. Likely it was a Dixingren who did not expect to meet you here.”
Zhao Yunlan nods grimly. His head aches, but his vision is clear and there’s no dizziness. “Okay, good, let’s go.”
Shen Wei rises abruptly as he gets to his feet, holding Zhao Yunlan’s elbow. “Zhao-chuzhang, you should be checked out at the hospital. You were unconscious for a minute; you likely have a concussion. You shouldn’t – Zhao-chuzhang.”
But Zhao Yunlan is already pushing past the crowd of observers. He has a perp to nab.
***
Outside the restaurant they meet Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng, just arriving. “Good,” says Zhao Yunlan. “Lao Chu, you’re with me. Xiao Guo, you see Shen-jiaoshou home.”
Shen Wei stiffens at this, half reaching for Zhao Yunlan before stilling his hand. “Zhao-chuzhang. Really – this is foolish. Let me take you to the hospital, and send your team after the suspect.”
“My team hasn’t seen him. And you’re a civilian. I’m fine – no dizziness, no nausea. I can get checked out after. Because this guy isn’t a suspect, he’s a criminal. And if he went after me like an absolute moron, there’s just a tiny chance he might come after you, too.”
Shen Wei frowns. “Surely he was just eager to escape,” he protests.
“If he was, all he had to do was be chill. He was behind me; I wouldn’t’ve seen him. I didn’t even know him. People who have no chill are the worst criminals, Shen-jiaoshou. They’re unpredictable, and that makes them dangerous. Please, go home.”
Shen Wei holds his gaze for a moment, his amber eyes searching deeply, distressed. It’s enough to make Zhao Yunlan feel guilty, but absolutely not enough to make him change his mind. Finally, the professor sighs. “Very well. I will go home. But please, take xiao Guo with you. I’ll take a cab; I won’t be in any danger. You need more support.”
Zhao Yunlan looks at him. “You promise?”
Shen Wei nods. Zhao Yunlan sighs. “Fine. Fine – but call a cab here. Plenty of people around. Okay?”
Shen Wei agrees. Zhao Yunlan reaches out without thought, driven by nothing but desire, and brushes his fingers over Shen Wei’s arm. “Be careful,” he says.
Then he gathers up Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng with a look and sweeps away.
***
Through a combination of his description and Lin Jing searching nearby cameras, they’re able to ID the perp and get a home address.
Imagine Zhao Yunlan’s surprise when, as they knock, a wave of sub-zero cold rolls through the door and walls. “Break it down,” he orders Chu Shuzhi, and the puppet-master’s strings make quick work of the particle-board door.
Inside, Hei Pao Shi is standing in all his dark, fearsome glory. He has his glaive in hand, and the same man Zhao Yunlan saw for only an instant before he smashed a plate into his head is kneeling at his feet, begging pitifully.
Hei Pao Shi doesn’t move as the door crumbles, but his gleaming eyes do snap to Zhao Yunlan. There’s starlight there, immeasurably old and powerful. Zhao Yunlan has no Dixing power but even he can feel Hei Pao Shi’s intense energy, the chill weight of it.
He walks forward, boots tapping on the bare wooden floor, his sluttiest jeans – worn explicitly for Shen Wei – attracting only a microscopic glance from the Envoy. “Zhao-chuzhang,” Hei Pao Shi intones, his voice grave.
“Hei Lao-ge. What a coincidence finding you here! I wonder how exactly you came to hear about this – our little perp here only just committed his first crime. Your omniscience is truly a sight to behold.”
Hei Pao Shi gives him an indecipherable look. Zhao Yunlan takes a step closer – and at Hei Pao Shi’s feet, the pleading Dixingren turns to lunge at him.
Even as he’s reacting, Zhao Yunlan realises that the man is only reaching for him to beg for mercy. But he’s already dodging to the side, and his head is throbbing thickly, and as the world spins just slightly his feet tangle with each other and he trips.
The world freezes.
Zhao Yunlan falls forward in sudden silence, and is caught by black-clad arms. Strong hands dig into his biceps as he tumbles into Hei Pao Shi. Almost instantly he’s being set on his feet, distance rapidly established. But it’s not quick enough that he didn’t catch a hint of the scent clinging to the Envoy’s robes. Ambergris and cedar, cut with lemongrass.
“Zhao-chuzhang,” says Hei Pao Shi, his voice low; he’s still holding him upright at arm’s length, seemingly without any effort at all. Zhao Yunlan wriggles free. All around them is stillness – the Dixingren at his feet is frozen, hands outreached. Chu Shuzhi is behind him, a gleaming blue thread hanging in the air at his fingertips. Guo Changcheng’s mouth is open, eyes wide.
Zhao Yunlan has so many questions, but one stands out clearly among the herd. “Shen-jiaoshou told you. You were with him.” For Shen Wei’s scent to be clinging to his robes they must have been embracing. Had Shen Wei gone home and summoned Hei Pao Shi, traumatized and worried, and set his lover on Zhao Yunlan’s attacker?
If so, why hide it? And why let Zhao Yunlan make a fool out of himself? Shen Wei isn’t the type to revel in men throwing themselves at him – Zhao Yunlan is very sure about that. He holds honour dearly. Is he trapped in a triangle of his own making? Can he truly not choose?
Is Hei Pao Shi a more attractive lover than Zhao Yunlan?
“Zhao-chuzhang…”
“Is that really wise? The omnipotent Hei Pao Shi, stuff of nightmares and legend, taking a mortal lover? Especially a defenseless, naïve, principled professor? Have you considered the risk to him? You have no natural weaknesses – but your attention makes him one. It makes him a target.”
Hei Pao Shi is staring at him. He seems lost for words.
“Surely you’ve considered this, Hei Lao-ge. If not, you’re in no position to be seducing helpless academics and –”
“Zhao Yunlan,” intones Hei Pao Shi, in a voice like thunder. Zhao Yunlan refuses to cower. He slips his hands into his pockets, nonchalant, and stares back.
“Who Shen Wei chooses is up to him. But I won’t let you endanger him. If you behave cavalierly, if you hurt him – I won’t look the other way. And if you think my dad was the worst Zhao, you have no idea how ruthless I can be.”
For a moment, Hei Pao Shi is still as old stone, immovable across centuries. “I am not Shen Wei’s lover,” he says at last. “Nor do I wish to be. Zhao-chuzhang. My heart is already given away. I seek no other.”
“That’s – but – what?” Zhao Yunlan’s carefully constructed card house argument is suddenly falling apart in a wash of slick paper.
“Please, step back,” says Hei Pao Shi. And, waving his hand, he unfreezes time.
Zhao Yunlan says nothing more as he drags the culprit up and opens a portal, the smell of snow and ozone filling the air. He gives Zhao Yunlan a significant look before stepping through – but significant of what?
Zhao Yunlan doesn’t know.
***
It’s late when he gets home. After the Envoy took the Dixingren back underground for sentencing, Zhao Yunlan spent several hours waiting at the hospital to be checked out, and then had to go back to 4 Bright Avenue to finalize some paperwork.
There’s a moth fluttering in a large, leggy spiderweb in the stairwell of his building; he looks at it for a minute before drawing his finger through the web, freeing it. It flutters to the ground and flaps there; he sighs and keeps going.
In his apartment the mess has only begun to creep back in following Shen Wei’s most recent tidying. He tosses his keys onto the counter and toes off his boots. His head is still throbbing so he doesn’t pour out any liquor, just a glass of water.
He’s just started stripping for bed, jacket hung up and t-shirt in its place on the floor, when a knock comes at the door. Zhao Yunlan looks up, then crosses over.
It’s Shen Wei, of course. Shen Wei with a little covered pot. He freezes at the sight of Zhao Yunlan’s chest, a faint blush dusting across his cheeks. “I heard you come in,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you had eaten. How is your head?”
Zhao Yunlan is pleased to see him, but he’s even more pleased to see Shen Wei’s obvious interest in the amount of skin he’s displaying. Fuck, he should have done this ages ago. He welcomes the professor in, closes the door behind him, and joins him by the island where he’s setting down his hot bowl. Inside is rice noodle soup with chili sauce and greens. “Head’s fine – hard as a rock, you know. Never anything to worry about.”
Shen Wei’s smile is small, tender. “Still. You need to take care of yourself.”
“Eh. I’m just glad you’re safe.” He takes a slurping mouthful of noodles; they’re delicious, perfectly cooked and spiced just the way he likes it. Shen Wei is truly a master chef. As well as handsome, academically accomplished, compassionate, and clear-hearted. It wells up in him in an instant – how happy he is Shen Wei could still be his. How far he’s already fallen for this man. His throat closes up as emotion swells, and he coughs.
“Zhao-chuzhang?”
He forces himself to swallow, giving his chest a couple of hollow beats. “Fine – I’m fine. Just – happy. To see you. You’re so – precious. You know that?”
Shen Wei ducks his head, eyes low. “Really – I’m not. Zhao-chuzhang, there’s no need to…”
“To what? Praise you? You deserve it. Adore you? I want to. Understand you? Shen Wei – I would like to. Really. Recently, I thought I understood all the mysteries you carry around with you so neatly, packed away like a lunch kit. But I was wrong. And now…” He leans forward, letting his head fall onto Shen Wei’s shoulder. To his surprise the professor doesn’t protest, just reaches up to thread his fingers through Zhao Yunlan’s hair.
His shoulder smells of his cologne – ambergris, cedar, lemongrass.
And, just slightly, like dabs of frost on a windowpane, there’s the scent of newly-fallen snow. A scent that hadn’t been there in the restaurant. A scent that – according to Hei Pao Shi – cannot be explained by an embrace.
There’s no explosion of realization, no firework that goes off. The truth just unfolds itself, soft as a spider web come undone.
A touch of ice, at the back of his head. A turn of phrase that was just a little too similar. A bruise on the wrist, after scuffling with a suspect. A nose for trouble, without any apparent consequence. The fact that Shen Wei never wears black. The fact that Hei Pao Shi is never in the same room with Shen Wei.
Zhao Yunlan closes his eyes, and laughs.
“Zhao-chuzhang?”
“Baby,” says Zhao Yunlan, lifting his head, both smiling and wincing. “Surely you could have been kinder. Surely you could’ve spared me looking like quite this much of a fool. Don’t tell me you enjoyed it – you don’t have an unkind bone in your body. And Hei Lao-ge has no sense of humour.”
Shen Wei grows still. His tongue dabs at his bottom lip, wetting it. He says nothing, eyes very dark.
Zhao Yunlan catches his wrist as his hand falls away from Zhao Yunlan’s hair. “Just tell me, Hei Lao-ge. Is your heart set on a different man than Shen-jiaoshou’s?”
“I…”
“Please don’t lie to me,” whispers Zhao Yunlan. “Not anymore.” Not an order – a plea. Shen Wei shivers.
“It’s the same,” he says, voice low. “Zhao Yunlan. It’s the same.”
Zhao Yunlan lifts Shen Wei’s hand to his mouth, and presses a kiss to his palm. He sees Shen Wei lean in, shoulders losing their tension, softening for him. From such a tiny thing.
“You don’t have to say it.” He murmurs the words into Shen Wei’s skin, breath puffing over the wet mark he’s left making the professor shiver. “I won’t make you say his name until you’re ready.”
Shen Wei laughs. Not cruelly, but not with much humour either. Just at the absurdity of the situation, perhaps. “Zhao Yunlan. It’s you. Of course it’s you.”
Zhao Yunlan draws him into an embrace. In his arms Shen Wei is solid, warm, breathing. Things he’s never even thought of in relation to the Envoy. Things he’s always desired from the professor. “You really – both of you really…?”
Shen Wei’s words slip past his ear, breath soft against his skin. “There’s just one of me, Zhao Yunlan. And my mind is quite made up.”
“Well,” he says, the joy of being wanted too big for him to get his arms around. “Good. That’s – but Shen Wei. You’ve been him all this time, being so distant, so cold!”
“You said it yourself. Hei Pao Shi has no weaknesses. I could not make you into one.”
Zhao Yunlan pulls away. “I don’t need protecting. I’m not –”
“A defenseless, naïve, principled professor?” asks Shen Wei wryly, one eyebrow raised.
“Aiyo, don’t throw that back at me. Shen Wei. You have to promise never to tell anyone about that. Promise!”
Shen Wei smiles. “I will gladly guard your indiscretions.”
Zhao Yunlan scowls. “You make that sound like I was having an affair.”
The professor dips his head slightly. “Well, I certainly wasn’t.”
“Shen Wei!”
The professor – the Envoy – looks up at Zhao Yunlan from beneath the fan of his lashes. Stardust shines in his eyes.
So there’s really nothing Zhao Yunlan can do, but reach out and kiss him.
END