Xingchen breathes in the now familiar scent of disinfection and other chemicals while he has his blood drawn for the umpteenth time, after going through several other tests. After more than a week in what felt like paradise, he forgot how tiring all these procedures were. But it's of course nothing he can't endure, given the promised result.
"Don't worry, this is the last sample we need," Lan Xichen reassures him. "I'm going to take you to your room now."
Said room is rather small, and apart from a wardrobe and a side table contains just a very strange bed. This bed is narrow and so high Xingchen fears he might fall off it, the way it happened to Xue Yang in Traveler's Delight, especially as there are no side railings on it.
Lan Xichen, however, quickly explains that the bed is adjustable, and shows him how it can be lowered to a less precarious position; not only that, there is an option that moves just the back part of the bed, which can, as the doctor explains, be used to help an immobile person to sit up.
While Xingchen still marvels at this strange contraption, Xue Yang puts a hand on his forearm. "I left your stuff by the bed, Little Starfish," he tells Xingchen before clearing his throat, "So, uhm, I'm gonna be off to my hotel," he goes on to say, in a somewhat strained voice, "a four-star one this time. After Traveler's Delight I didn't want to take any chances."
"Of course," Xingchen says automatically. Then the meaning of Xue Yang's words truly catches up with him. "You're leaving me alone?" slips from his lips before he can stop it.
"I'm afraid I didn't leave your partner with much of a choice," Lan Xichen tells him apologetically before Xue Yang has the chance to react. "Under normal circumstances, we might've been able to come up with something here at the hospital, but now with the pandemic–"
"No, I understand," Xingchen hurries to say, feeling a little ashamed for once again acting like a dependent child. During their time in Cloud Recesses, he thought he was growing back into his old self; he felt like he was rebuilding his strength, both in body and soul. He didn't suffer from any anxiety attacks, and overall felt much more grounded. The fatigue that had been consuming him since he found himself here has diminished significantly; on the last day before they left the retreat, he was even able to wake before Xue Yang did.
Not that he did much of anything with this additional time; he was content to stay in the bed with Xue Yang by his side, basking in the warmth emanating from his body. They weren't touching, but when Xingchen moved his hand just a little, his fingers brushed against Xue Yang's hip, and he felt a jolt of electricity running through him. This made him hastily retract his hand and keep his distance. There was a time and place for everything; no matter what his body desired, his heart told Xingchen that he was not ready for this.
Spending a few hours of every day away from Xue Yang helped Xingchen feel more self-reliant (even though he was aware he was still receiving help, just from a different source), but also realize how much he actually enjoys being together with the reincarnated version of his former enemy.
It is no wonder; this version of Xue Yang is simply very likable and easy to talk to. Even though he might come across as callous at times, often saying what is on his mind without consideration of other people's feelings, and possesses a rather macabre sense of humor, he also deeply cares about his family, friends, and now apparently also Xingchen himself, always going out of his way to help him.
So whether it makes him dependent or not, the fact is that Xingchen would simply like to have Xue Yang by his side, especially today, when the upcoming surgery makes his heart swell with both hope and anxiety.
Meanwhile, Lan Xichen excuses himself, letting them have some privacy.
At the very next moment Xue Yang crushes Xingchen in a hug.
"You know I wouldn't leave you here alone if I could, Little Starfish," the man whispers into his ear.
Xingchen nods into his shoulder, returning the embrace and enjoying the solid warmth of the other's body. He doesn't want to let go. He feels incredibly safe, even though it doesn't make much sense, given who exactly the man holding him in his arms used to be. But he can't change that he feels so safe as though no harm could ever befall him again. And that is not all.
He also feels cared for. Cherished. Loved, might be the right word.
That's how he's been feeling for the last week or more. At first he really thought that Xue Yang was doing all this out of some sense of obligation, or guilt, but neither obligation nor guilt could explain those lingering affectionate touches Xue Yang allows himself increasingly often.
And his looks; Xingchen cannot see them, of course, but he senses Xue Yang's gaze on him from the way his own skin prickles in not exactly unpleasant manner, and wishes he could see the expression Xue Yang wears at those moments. The idea that by this time tomorrow he might be able to do that makes his heart beat faster.
Xingchen's own feelings are a little harder to pin down. The misgivings he originally held have long since melted in a sea of gratitude, and the tentative stirrings of affection he used to feel for Chengmei, kept on a tight leash because of his intuition that there was a dark side to his companion, have blossomed into something more; some beautiful, but also fragile thing. So fragile that Xingchen fears that putting it into words might break it. So instead, he lets his body speak for him, gently patting Xue Yangʼs back as though it was the other man who needed reassurance at this moment, and not Xingchen himself.
…
After Xue Yang leaves, there is nothing for Xingchen to do but wait. Lan Xichen returns not long afterwards, explaining some more details about the surgery. Xingchen balks at the idea of something called urinary catheterization but he supposes that it is better than soiling himself while unconscious. Other than that, it just seems that he will be put to some kind of artificial sleep, and when he wakes up from that, he should be able to see.
It all sounds very simple, but when Xingchen is left alone, he still can't help but grow anxious. The bed under him feels unfamiliar, as do the sounds coming from behind the closed doors, even though he is able to identify them as the patter of footsteps and whirring of wheels of trolleys and chairs transporting other patients. The chemical smells he has grown used to, but that doesn't mean that he finds them pleasant, quite the opposite. He tries to recall the smell of pines and hay, which were his favorite scents at the retreat, but doesn't quite succeed.
No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, his mind keeps reminding him of the fact that this procedure hasn't ever been done before. There is no guarantee it will be successful. Apart from his own growing desire to be able to see again, Xingchen also feels the heavy burden of the importance of this surgery for humankind in general; he knows that there are millions of blind people who could benefit from it.
To take his mind off these uneasy thoughts, Xingchen reaches towards the side table next to the hospital bed, and his fingers find the rectangular phone Xue Yang bought him. Other than familiarizing himself with its basic functions, Xingchen hasn't really used it much. Now he wants to try calling someone.
The first person he thinks of is Xue Yang. Xingchen scoffs, because this is ridiculous. It's been just a few hours since the other man left. What would Xingchen even say, after so little time apart?
Instead, he presses the button for number two, which he has set as a speed dial for A-Qing.
She picks up almost right away, and thankfully doesn't ask him any surgery-related questions. Her first question is actually about Song Lan, making Xingchen really touched by her concern for his friend, even though he's sorry he cannot tell her more than the mysterious abbreviation, which leaves A-Qing none the wiser. He promises her – and himself – that whatever the result of his surgery, he will start to pour all his energies into finding his friend as soon as he can.
"How was the retreat?" A-Qing inquires next, "Big Jerk told me there was no Internet, is that right?"
When Xingchen confirms it for her, she erupts in a fit of giggles.
"I just can't picture it! My brother must've been climbing the walls with boredom!"
"Well, he wasn't happy at first, but then he got himself a new hobby. He picked up wood carving," Xingchen informs her.
"Huh. He did like crafting things when we were kids, that's true. But he never stuck with one particular thing. At one point he was all about making airplane models, then he went to anime figures, sometime later he swapped it for I don't even know what. Papier-mâché masks, maybe? Not big on patience, this one."
"I noticed," Xiao Xingchen says with a chuckle.
"Oh, I forgot to mention the time when he collected animal bones – mostly that'd be like, chicken bones from dinner leftovers, how gross is that! – and tried to make structures from them, because he saw a picture of some church made of bones and thought it was awesome. Mom didn't share his opinion, and threw all his skeletal art away as unsanitary."
This makes Xingchen laugh out loud, while A-Qing continues, "And then there was the time when he insisted – you know how I study English, right?"
"Yes, the modern universal language," Xingchen agrees.
"Our government might disagree with you on that but yeah. It's taught at schools, but not in an exactly fun way, with a lot of emphasis on overcomplicated grammar instead of teaching people to actually speak it. I didn't like those lessons either, but my brother really, really hated them. Once, he failed some grammar test, and said he'd stop learning English altogether, and that he'd learn Klingon instead! That's a fictional language in some sci-fi TV series, for your information. It sounds a lot like growling, so it went rather well with that angsty teenage act he was projecting at the time. And did I mention that our mom works as an English teacher? Imagine how happy she was about that," A-Qing tells him gleefully.
"Not much?" Xingchen manages to get out before he's overcome by another bout of laughter.
"You bet. In the end, she made him go back to learning English only by pointing out that there was exactly one computer game that requires the use of Klingon, compared to thousands and thousands that use English."
"That was a clever move," Xingchen observes.
"Uh-huh. Oh, wait for the next one – that's only hearsay because it happened when I was still a baby, but when Big Jerk was in first grade, the teacher asked the kids how a chicken can be useful to humans. So everybody said the normal stuff like for eggs, meat, feathers. And guess what my brother said? That it can be used as an animal sacrifice!"
Xingchen is aware that this particular anecdote should probably make him feel unsettled, given the original Xue Yang's prowess in demonic cultivation, but he ends up laughing anyway, hard enough that his sides begin to hurt.
He says his goodbye to A-Qing soon afterwards, making her laugh in turn by claiming that if she told him any more stories, he might end up needing more than one surgery tomorrow.
He feels much better after their talk, but not at all ready to sleep. He tries listening to some music to wind down, but it is to no avail. A strange kind of restlessness has taken root under his skin, one that not even meditation manages to chase away.
He lies back on the bed and wonders what Xue Yang is doing. Probably using his phone and enjoying that he can once more connect to the Internet and do… whatever it is he usually does with it. Xingchen's notion about these things is still extremely nebulous. Or maybe he is sleeping already. Either way, Xingchen should let him have his rest.
Instead, he takes up his phone again and presses number one before tapping the dial button.
Xue Yang picks up immediately, confirming Xingchen's first assumption.
"Hey, what's up? Is something the matter?" he asks with worry, which makes Xingchen feel guilty for disturbing him. But since he's already doing that, he might as well go on.
"No. I just… can't sleep," he admits.
"That must be the nerves," Xue Yang says with understanding, "If you ask the doctors, they could give you something to calm down, but you wouldn't want that, wouldya?"
Xingchen shakes his head before realizing that Xue Yang can't actually see him, so he gives a resounding no.
"I've got an idea. Hold on a sec."
Xingchen obediently waits, curious about what Xue Yang has in mind. There is some sort of rustling sound at the other end, before he hears the faint but unmistakable sound of guqin, playing the same soothing melody he has been trying to master over the course of last week.
"But how… You broke the no recordings rule," Xingchen says as the realization dawns. It comes out more surprised than accusing.
"Yeah. But I don't think Lan-laoshi would mind in this case. The rule's in place so that people don't put stuff online without permission. Moreover it's you playing it, so I think you have a right to have this."
"Me? But I don't hear any mistakes. I thought it was the Laoshi playing," Xingchen objects.
"Nope, all you. It's from your last session. I was standing outside by the open window. You said you've never played before coming to the retreat, right? Learning so much in just a week? You must be a music prodigy or something, Little Starfish," Xue Yang says with such blatant admiration that it makes Xingchen blush.
"Lan-laoshi also said that, albeit not in so many words," he remarks.
"You don't say," Xue Yang says with a snigger, and Xingchen joins in his laughter. He doesn't remember when was the last time he laughed so much during a single day.
"Now go to sleep, Little Starfish, you gotta rest before tomorrow. G'night," Xue Yang tells him before falling silent and putting the recording on a loop.
Xingchen doesn't know what it is that eventually manages to put him to sleep – the relaxing guqin melody or the regular sound of Xue Yang's breathing in the background.
…
At first, there's light, an awful lot of it. So much light that it hurts in a way nothing has hurt for years. The fact that Xingchen is able to feel this kind of pain makes him delirious with excitement.
And that's before there are colors, green human-like shapes and grey and white blots that are probably machines of some kind.
Now when he is apparently able to see, he wants to look, especially at the people around him, but something is blurring his vision. Nothing turns crimson, so it's tears, not blood. He tries to raise his hand to his face, but finds out he can't move it.
Someone dabs at his eyes with a tissue, very gently.
"Can you see me?" a deep voice asks him, sounding as if it was coming from some faraway place even though he's sure that's not the case.
Xingchen finds out that his thoughts are very sluggish, because it takes him a while before he puts a name to this voice – Lan Xichen, of course.
His vision is still blurry, but he recognizes the oval of the doctor's face, half hidden under a green mask. He tries to speak but no sound comes out. He does manage a miniscule nod.
"Hello," a different voice says from the left, one that Xingchen eventually recognizes as Jin Guangyao. "Are you in any pain?"
Xingchen considers the question. By now, his eyes have adjusted to all the light a little; he's not exactly comfortable, but he wouldn't describe the feeling as pain anymore.
He shakes his head. Then he feels confused because the sharp white light above his head suddenly moves, together with everything else. He just about realizes that he's being wheeled somewhere before his vision goes black.
…
The next time he opens his eyes, he is lying on the bed in the room he slept in last night. This time, there is no brightness hurting his eyes. On the contrary, the room is rather dim because the curtains on the only window are drawn, with the only source of illumination being a weak white light on a panel behind Xingchen's head.
A quiet sound to his right alerts him to the presence of another person, who is sitting on a chair next to his bed, wearing the same green clothes and mask like those donned by the medical staff. Xingchen's first impression is therefore that of a doctor. But as his vision is much less blurry now, he can see the dark, beautiful eyes shining above the mask, and knows that it is not the case. Just then a familiar voice asks, "You're awake?"
"Can you remove your mask? I want to see you," Xingchen says, his own voice sounding hoarse to his ears.
"Alright," Xue Yang mumbles, and puts the green fabric away.
Xingchen draws a shaky breath as he adjusts the bed to sitting position, to have a better look at the other man's face.
What is revealed to him is the same pretty boyish face as the one etched in his memory, if a bit older, but the expression on it is completely unfamiliar. Xingchen has never seen Xue Yang look so uncertain and vulnerable as he does in this moment.
For some reason, Xue Yang avoids his gaze, as if looking at Xingchen somehow hurt him, the way people avoid looking at the sun.
"Come closer," Xingchen says softly, and Xue Yang obliges him.
Xingchen raises his hand; this time he succeeds in doing so, even though it feels as if it was made of lead. He notices that there are several tubes connected to it, but it doesn't agitate him. Lan Xichen explained about those in advance; his mind is still fuzzy so he doesn't remember it in much detail, but he recalls something about pain medication and monitoring of his heartbeat.
Xingchen places his heavy, tube-laden hand on Xue Yang's cheek. He slides his fingers down in a caressing motion, marveling how smooth the other man's skin is. Then he realizes he said that out loud, even though he had no intention of doing so.
"You're high," Xue Yang tells him, which makes Xingchen frown.
"It's tall, Chengmei," he informs the other man. "No, that's not right, you're not Chengmei. You're Xue Yang," he corrects himself, "But never mind that. A mountain might be high, but a person is tall, don't you know the difference?"
Xue Yang lets out an amused chuckle, a lovely, musical sound that reverberates through Xingchen's very being.
"Being high means that you're under the influence of some mind-altering substance. Some strong painkillers, in your case," Xue Yang explains patiently.
"Ah," Xingchen murmurs, while he keeps caressing Xue Yang's face.
Xue Yang looks at him with strangely bright eyes, but doesn't say anything.
"Xue Yang," Xingchen repeats, trying out the sound of that name; it still sends a faint echo of fear through him, but mostly he just likes the way it sounds, and thinks it suits its owner well. Xingchen realizes that the last time he called Xue Yang by his name was still in the past, before he took his own life. Since he found himself in the future, he hasn't done so even once. This must be rectified right away, he decides.
"Xue Yang, Xue Yang, Xue Yang," he keeps saying over and over while the man in question looks torn between amusement and concern.
Xingchen only stops when there is a sound of someone coughing behind them.
It is Lan Xichen. He's holding a white board of some kind, with lines of black shapes ranging from very big on the top to tiny ones at the bottom.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I need to run a visual acuity test. Can you read this line for me?" Lan Xichen asks, pointing at the bottom row.
"No, I'm sorry," is Xingchen's reply. He can see the things Lan Xichen is pointing at clear as day, but he can't read them; they look like some sort of symbols, but not like any he has ever seen before.
The situation repeats itself with every following line, until they reach the top one, consisting of only a single angular shape.
"So you are able to see colors, but not shapes," Lan Xichen says with a thoughtful frown. "This is strange."
"I do see shapes," Xingchen objects, "for example on the third line from the top, there is a circle in the middle. And there is a half-moon on the farthest right of the line below, and another smaller half-moon directly under it."
Xue Yang seems to be the first one of them to realize what is happening here.
"Isn't there a Chinese version of this chart?" he asks Lan Xichen, "Pre-revolution one, preferably? He can't read Latin characters, and might even have trouble with simplified Chinese."
"Oh. Of course," Lan Xichen replies softly, probably remembering the unsavory cover story Jin Guangyao fed him with, but Xingchen doesn't really care about that at the moment. Let Lan Xichen think what he wants; the main thing is that Xingchen is able to see, and it is so wondrous he can hardly wrap his head around it.
The doctor soon returns with another board, this time full of Chinese characters, and Xingchen reads every single one of them, down to the last row.