I am not Chinese, and although I've tried my best to research for this fic and other Faraway Wanderers fics, there may still be errors that I am unaware of. If so, I apologize. If anything is offensive or incorrect, please let me know.
Title comes from Du Fu's "Welcome Rain on a Spring Night."
Wen Kexing kept his nails long.
It was rare, nowadays, that he was found without a weapon. He kept knives on his body, he'd sewn needles into the linings of his robes. He had his martial arts, honed to the point of mastery. But there had been a time when he'd had none of that, when all he'd had was his own body. All he'd had were his hands.
In those sorts of fights, any advantage could spell victory. He would probably never be in one of those sorts of fights again, but he could never be sure. So, he kept his nails long. Ten extra weapons, at the tips of his fingers.
He knew exactly what it felt like to claw a man's eyes out with his own nails. He'd done it twice. He never wanted to do it again, but, well, that was what he'd thought after the first time too.
He kept them immaculately manicured. Each nail was neat and clean, and if anything got underneath them, he removed it as quickly as he could. He took careful care of all aspects of his appearance, reveled in his ability to do so. He kept his nails clean for the same reason that he kept his hair glossy and silky, kept his topknot neat and tidy, kept his clothes elegant and spotless. The ability to keep himself clean was new and thrilling; he thrived in it.
And so, for all that his nails were ten extra weapons, he made sure they didn't look it. The weapons he kept on him at all times were clean, but his nails were beautiful. He shaped them, cleaned them, sometimes even painted them. He sat with Gu Xiang-
Well. Before, he had, at least.
He did not let himself think about it.
His nails were ten extra weapons, and they were beautiful ones. He cared for them, maintained them, used them when he had to. Otherwise, they became normal enough for him that he hardly thought about them. Delicacy, which had once been a hard-won battle, became second nature. He rarely ripped anything with his nails, nothing but the things he wanted to rip. He rarely hurt anyone, no one but the ones he wanted to hurt.
At times, he turned them on himself, but never too dangerously. They sent a shiver down his spine when he scraped them across his scalp; they left red parallel lines when he scratched them across his skin; they left four pinpricks of pain on each palm when he clenched his fists. Sharp pain, always, although he rarely made it sharp enough to bleed. He preferred sharp pain to a dull ache. He always had. He would rather be slashed by a knife than beaten by a club; a sharp pain could bring clarity in a way that a dull ache never did. When he needed that clarity, he could clench his fists and gain eight little notes of it.
He didn't think much about his nails, though, not outside of the focused moments when he did, and he wasn't thinking about his nails when he lay in bed with Zhou Zishu and traced his fingers lower and lower down his back. Their fight had ended in its usual draw, but he dipped his fingers lower and lower anyway, until one of them began to trace the cleft of Zhou Zishu's ass-
And then, it went no further; Zhou Zishu reached around and grabbed his hand tightly, all five fingers in his grip. A dull pain, but Wen Kexing had found even dull pain was acceptable when it came from his A-Xu.
"If you think you're getting anywhere near me with those nails," Zhou Zishu said, expression unimpressed, "you're a madman."
Wen Kexing didn't fight Zhou Zishu's grip, but he did pull their joined hands up to his mouth. "I am a madman," he said, and even as he spoke the words, he didn't know if they were an explanation, an apology, or a challenge. Zhou Zishu raised an eyebrow, but he didn't pull his hand away, not when Wen Kexing began to press kisses to his knuckles, not even when he nipped at one lightly with his teeth.
It was an implicit sort of permission. Zhou Zishu was the one holding Wen Kexing in his grip, but Wen Kexing was the one moving their hands. Zhou Zishu offered no resistance as he moved them so he could press a gentle, butterfly kiss to the inside of Zhou Zishu's wrist.
It was a vulnerable spot. Once, Wen Kexing had buried his teeth in the same spot on Zhou Zishu's other arm. He'd bitten down hard, and he'd licked up the blood afterwards, and Zhou Zishu had not stopped him. Wen Kexing had broken the skin, but he hadn't left a permanent scar, and he was gripped suddenly with the urge to do the same on this wrist, but harder; to break the skin so roughly that it could never be smooth again. He could leave a mark on Zhou Zishu like that, a permanent one, an intimate one, for what could be more intimate than the outline of his teeth?
He kissed the thin, fragile skin again. If he bit down, Zhou Zishu would not stop him. The power of it went to Wen Kexing's head, left him dizzy.
He could feel Zhou Zishu's pulse under his lips.
He kissed once more, and he disentangled their fingers to pull his hand away.
"I suppose," he said, "we'll have to see what happens when I win our daily fight."
They were both fully aware that Wen Kexing could have been winning the fights since the beginning. At full strength, they were more or less evenly matched, but Zhou Zishu was still recovering from the removal of the nails, the shattering of his meridians, the three month coma. If Wen Kexing had really wanted to win, it wouldn't have been hard. That wasn't what he wanted, though; he didn't want it to be something that he won, that he took. He wanted Zhou Zishu to give it to him. He wanted Zhou Zishu to lie beneath him, to bare his throat, to say that Wen Kexing had won. He would wait until Zhou Zishu did.
Wen Kexing didn't say any of that, and Zhou Zishu didn't admit that he'd been coming closer and closer to giving in for days; he just scoffed and asked, "Who's winning? Don't get ahead of yourself, Lao Wen."
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing whispered, pulling Zhou Zishu in for a kiss.
He threaded his fingers through Zhou Zishu's hair, and he was careful not to let his nails scrape. The delicacy was second nature, but…
He didn't think much about his nails, normally, but he could still feel the ghost of Zhou Zishu's grip around his fingers, if he thought about it, and he found he could think of little else.
This was a problem he would need to solve.
Wen Kexing did not trust Qi Ye. The huli jing of a man was too beautiful, too well-spoken. He was a few years younger than Zhou Zishu, and by all accounts he was a lazy layabout, but sometimes his peach-blossom eyes would have an incongruous age to them, a sort of depth that made very little sense when compared to the rest of him.
The Da Wu was easier. He was a straightforward man, saying what he meant with little embellishment. And, of course, he had saved Zhou Zishu. It was a debt, and normally Wen Kexing hated debts, but he'd overheard the Da Wu and Zhou Zishu speaking, before the surgery; he knew that Zhou Zishu had, at some point, helped the Da Wu save Qi Ye. Saving Zhou Zishu, he'd said, was hardly anything in comparison to that debt. Wen Kexing did not agree that Zhou Zishu's life was so cheap, but he understood. The Da Wu had not saved Zhou Zishu for Wen Kexing's sake, but Wen Kexing still owed him a debt for it, a debt that could never be paid. But the Da Wu had saved Zhou Zishu because of an unpayable debt of his own, and so the chances that he would ever call in to collect were slim.
Whether Wen Kexing trusted them or not, he didn't think either Qi Ye or the Da Wu meant him any physical harm. Qi Ye likely couldn't do him any physical harm if he tried. And the only other people on their remote, deserted, protected mountain were Zhou Zishu and Zhang Chengling, both of whom Wen Kexing trusted. He could relax a bit, on Mount Changming, as much as he ever relaxed anywhere. He still wore his needle-lined robes, of course, and he always had at least one knife on him, but it was often just the one. He had his martial arts, but he fought Zhou Zishu every day, often to a point of near exhaustion, in a way he would never do in a place where he didn't feel safe to be anything but his best.
He was safe, and so perhaps he didn't need ten extra weapons at the tips of his fingers.
He thought of cutting his nails down. He had the tools for it; he kept his nails neatly shaped, and he could use the same tools to trim them. He toyed with the idea, let it sit in his mind one morning as he readied himself for the day.
He didn't like it. The chances that he would need his nails were slim, but the whole reason he kept them long was for the sorts of circumstances he couldn't foresee. They'd saved his life before, when he'd never thought he needed them.
He could compromise, he supposed; trim the nails down on one hand and leave them long on the other. One hand for Zhou Zishu, the other for himself. He didn't like the idea. It would be awkward and unwieldy, and anyway, he wanted to give all of himself to Zhou Zishu. He didn't want to keep one of his hands for himself.
But his stomach roiled when he thought of reaching for his nail kit, and the part of his brain that was still so much like a frightened child trembled in fear. The frightened child had not kept him safe, but it had kept him alive; he couldn't bring himself to ignore it.
The frightened child had never had anyone on its side, not really, not since he was nine and he came home to two bodies, one only identifiable by its shoulder blades. Some ghosts had been less awful than others, but he hadn't trusted a single one. The only person in the whole valley he'd trusted had been Gu Xiang, and she'd been under his protection, not the other way around.
He'd failed her. How could he give up any weapon, any advantage, when he hadn't been enough to protect her?
He'd been alone. He wasn't alone anymore.
The frightened child had never had anyone on its side, but now, he had Zhou Zishu, his A-Xu, his husband with perhaps enough blood on his hands to rival Wen Kexing's own. He wasn't alone, he had someone at his back, so perhaps, perhaps-
Perhaps being caught off-guard wouldn't be a death sentence-
But what if he was caught off-guard without Zhou Zishu-
He clenched his fists tightly. Four pinpricks of pain on each palm. Eight little notes of clarity. He clenched his fists tight enough to hurt, but not tight enough to bleed. There were plenty of people in the world who wanted his blood; he refused to do their job for them.
If they came for his blood, if he was unprepared-
He shook the thoughts from his head and swept from the room, wearing needle-lined robes and three knives. He often only kept one knife on him on Mount Changming, but the frightened child cried for more, and so he'd taken a second and a third. And, of course, ten extra weapons, at the tips of his fingers.
He was probably safe on their remote, deserted, protected mountain. He didn't feel safe enough.
He wondered, briefly, wistfully, if he would ever feel safe enough.
The daily fight ended in a draw. It didn't go on as long as normal; Zhang Chengling had asked for a lesson from his shifu, and the Da Wu had to do his biweekly examination of Zhou Zishu's body and meridians. It had been daily at first, then every other day, and now it was only twice a week and hardly even that necessary anymore. The Da Wu looked satisfied every time he checked, which made Qi Ye wrap a smug arm around his shoulders. Qi Ye had had perhaps the most faith in the Da Wu out of everyone, the Da Wu himself included. That bit of Qi Ye, Wen Kexing could understand. The two of them orbited each other easily, always close but never in each other's way, in a way that made some deep part of Wen Kexing burn with jealousy. He was jealous of them for other things too - they both knew parts of Zhou Zishu that he didn't, and he hated that - but the deep jealousy wasn't specific to them as people, but because of the ease of their relationship.
Perhaps he'd let some of that show on his face, because partway through the Da Wu's examination, Qi Ye left his husband's side and sat next to Wen Kexing instead. He poured himself tea, sighed in relief at its warmth, and then finally said, "Zishu is healing well. It won't be long before Wu Xi and I will be able to return to Nanjiang, I think."
"A-Xu is strong," Wen Kexing agreed, torn between emphasizing the affectionate nickname to show how close they were and bitterly hating that Qi Ye called Zhou Zishu by a name he'd never offered to Wen Kexing.
"He is." Qi Ye took another sip of tea and hummed. "You'll be more comfortable once we're gone, I assume. I will be too, honestly. It's too cold here, and there's only so much you can be stared at constantly before it's no longer flattering."
The words were a subtle rebuke. If Qi Ye thought he was going to get an apology, he was mistaken.
"I know you're still worried about him," Qi Ye added. "And I know you're protective of him. I'm glad. Zishu deserves to have someone take care of him. But I hope you know that you don't need to protect him from us."
"I know." And Wen Kexing did, truly. Zhou Zishu was in no danger from Qi Ye or the Da Wu. They were both still dangerous, though, and more dangerous to Wen Kexing than they were to Zhou Zishu anyway.
Qi Ye looked at him sideways. There was laziness in every inch of his posture, and yet Wen Kexing couldn't help but think that underestimating him was a mistake.
"Zishu loves you," he said after a long, calculating moment. "I've never seen him like this before, not with anyone. I'm glad to see it, to be honest. Zishu… I wish I could be more surprised that he took the Nails. The fact that he decided he did indeed want to live… That was because of you, Wen-gongzi, and I'm grateful for it."
"I love him," Wen Kexing said quietly. "He's my zhiji. My husband. I… If he had died, I would have followed him."
"I know how that feels," Qi Ye said quietly. His voice was mournful, regretful; Wen Kexing got the feeling he wasn't talking about the Da Wu, but he didn't know who he could be talking about. "I'm glad for both of you, then, that Zishu chose otherwise."
"I love him," Wen Kexing repeated. "I-"
"He loves you too. He might not always show it, but-"
"I know," Wen Kexing dismissed. He could read Zhou Zishu enough to see that, had figured out how to do that early on. Zhou Zishu was always wearing a mask, even when his face was his own, but Wen Kexing had learned at a young age how to recognize someone by the smallest traits; gait, bone structure, shoulder blades. Zhou Zishu could not hide himself from him.
"You're bothered by something, though," Qi Ye said quietly. "I can tell. You don't need to tell me, but… I've kept many things that were bothering me to myself, over the years, and it rarely helped. I'm lucky enough to have my Wu Xi to talk to, and when it's something about him that's bothering me, then I can speak to other friends. I used to speak to Zishu about it, back when we were all living in Da Qing together. If you need someone to talk to, I hope you'll know that I'm here."
It was an absurd offer. They hardly knew each other, and Wen Kexing certainly didn't trust the huli jing of a man. How could he tell him the things that were bothering him, the things that haunted his thoughts in the deepest parts of the night, when Zhou Zishu slept next to him and Wen Kexing's ghosts seemed the loudest? Ghosts couldn't come out during the day, after all; it was against the rules of the Valley.
Wen Kexing had lived in dark nights for so long. He never wanted to leave the day again.
"You and the Da Wu," he said to Qi Ye, hardly aware of the fact that he was speaking aloud. "You said… You can talk to him."
"Can you not talk to Zishu?" Qi Ye asked mildly.
"I can," Wen Kexing retorted defensively. "I can, but- Some things are-"
Qi Ye's eyes were old, far too old for the young man he was. "Some things are hard to talk about. I know. There are still some things…" His ancient eyes went distant. "Is this something you want to talk about? There are some things that are better left buried."
"I…" Wen Kexing looked down at his nails, curled his hands into fists. Eight notes of clarity. "I think I do. I don't know how."
"There's no one way to go about it, I'm afraid," Qi Ye sighed. "But with Wu Xi… I know I can trust him. I know there's nothing I can say to him that would change that. I've already done the worst thing to him that I could, and he forgave me for it. It took a while, and I nearly died in the process, but… That was years ago. We're married now, and happy. And so I don't worry about telling him things, not now, because I know that nothing I tell him can be worse than that morning."
"What did you do?" Wen Kexing asked, filled with morbid curiosity. Qi Ye most likely wouldn't answer him fully, he knew, but… The two of them seemed so close, so synchronized. What could Qi Ye have done to him before? And if it had truly been so bad, how could the Da Wu have forgiven him?
"I betrayed him," Qi Ye admitted. "I betrayed him when he was at his most vulnerable. It was for his own safety, but it doesn't change what I did. And it certainly didn't make him any happier about the situation, since my betrayal kept him safe but kept me in danger. He was furious. He didn't speak to me for months afterwards. But we managed to work through it, and I think we were stronger for it." He looked over at Wen Kexing, something knowing in his gaze. "Not that I'm saying you and Zishu should betray each other, but… There's security, sometimes, in knowing that there's nothing you can't come back from."
"I want…" What did he want? He wanted to be Zhou Zishu's, heart and soul and body. He wanted to belong to someone, to be loved by someone, to matter to someone. He wanted to crack open Zhou Zishu's ribcage and fold himself up until he could fit inside, nestled around Zhou Zishu's heart. He didn't want to die - and oh, what a feeling that was, to want to be alive for some reason other than inertia and spite - but when they did die, he wanted to be buried in a single grave, so closely intertwined that anyone digging up the grave after they'd rotted wouldn't be able to tell whose bones were whose. He knew they would die at the same time; he wouldn't leave Zhou Zishu, and when his A-Xu left him, he would follow after.
He wanted to give himself to Zhou Zishu, but even more than that, he wanted to feel safe doing so. He trusted Zhou Zishu, but he did not, he thought, trust himself. Or maybe he didn't trust the world. No, certainly he didn't trust the world, but-
He wanted to give himself to Zhou Zishu. He wanted to feel that he could be safe, if he did so. He wanted to feel like he could file away his sharp edges, soften himself into something human, and still survive it.
Humans did not live for very long in Ghost Valley, so Wen Kexing had not let himself be human for twenty years. But he was not in the Valley anymore, so maybe…
The look in Qi Ye's eyes, when Wen Kexing finally looked up at them, was sad and old and knowing. If he pushed, Wen Kexing thought wildly, if he asked for more details, if he didn't know when to back off, then Wen Kexing would claw his eyes out. He'd done it before, twice. He'd hated it, but the frantic thrumming under his skin pushed for it, bayed for blood-
"Do you want something to drink?" Qi Ye asked, holding out a cup of tea, and he didn't ask anything else.
Wen Kexing took the cup. He watched the Da Wu finish his examination, watched Zhou Zishu's lips twitch at some joke. He watched Zhang Chengling bound back up to his shifu for advice, and he watched the Da Wu and Qi Ye share a look that spoke volumes.
He drank his tea, and he hoped it could reach that deep, jealous burn and put it out.
Zhou Zishu said something to Zhang Chengling, then he crossed to Wen Kexing. "Our idiot disciple needs a demonstration."
"Our?" Wen Kexing repeated, even as he set down his cup and followed Zhou Zishu over to Zhang Chengling. "You're the one he's accepted as a shifu. If anything, I should be his shimu, shouldn't I?"
Zhang Chengling's eyes went huge. Zhou Zishu rolled his. "Will you be a good little wife, then, and have dinner ready for us every day after a long day of training?"
"Do I not already cook for you, husband? You surely didn't think your huli jing friend was the one in the kitchen."
Zhou Zishu snorted. "I wouldn't trust Beiyuan anywhere near food preparation, but Wu Xi knows what he's doing. You should ask him to teach you some Nanjiang recipes."
"After our demonstration, perhaps," Wen Kexing replied. "Come, Chengling, and let your shimu show you how to deal with this shifu of yours."
Zhang Chengling tripped over himself to follow them, and Zhou Zishu shot Wen Kexing a crooked smirk. Wen Kexing wanted him so badly it hurt.
He would find a way to be his. He'd managed so many impossible things already; what was one more?
"You're quiet tonight."
There was suspicion in Zhou Zishu's eyes. Wen Kexing threw himself across the bed immediately, draping one arm over his eyes.
"Does my husband not trust me? What more does this loving wife need to do, to win his husband's confidence?"
Zhou Zishu, when Wen Kexing peeked, looked supremely unimpressed. "You being quiet is never a good thing. What's going on in that head of yours?"
Wen Kexing rolled onto his stomach, propping his head up on his hands to watch Zhou Zishu ready himself for bed. "This wife think of nothing but how best to please his husband, of course."
"We're not starting our spar back up this late," Zhou Zishu warned. "Even if it wouldn't be absurd, Beiyuan would kill me for waking him up. And then you'd kill Beiyuan, and Wu Xi would kill you, and Chengling would probably try to kill Wu Xi to avenge you and fail miserably."
"Qi Ye wouldn't stand a chance against you," Wen Kexing countered. "And I think I could take the Da Wu."
"Then Beiyuan would make me wish I was dead, which he's very good at. That man has practically turned being insufferable into an art form."
Wen Kexing could believe that. He had avoided Qi Ye as much as he could, especially at first, but they'd spent some time together while Zhou Zishu had been in his coma. Qi Ye had bullied Wen Kexing into sleeping and eating on a few occasions, and he'd sat with Zhou Zishu whenever Wen Kexing couldn't. In the process, though, he'd been thoroughly irritating, especially when trying to get Wen Kexing to do something he didn't want to do. If he truly bent all of that talent on one person…
"Alright, then," Wen Kexing sighed. "That wasn't what I was angling for anyway."
"What were you angling for, then?" Zhou Zishu asked.
Wen Kexing hummed. "I wasn't angling for anything. I was just admiring my beautiful husband."
Zhou Zishu sighed, turning away and stripping out of his robe. Wen Kexing watched hungrily, as always, and when Zhou Zishu turned, he reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips against one of the scars from the Nails.
They were gone. They were truly gone. Zhou Zishu no longer had a death sentence hanging over his head, which meant Wen Kexing didn't either.
"Careful," Zhou Zishu scolded gently. "Wu Xi said I should make sure not to reopen the wounds if at all possible, and those nails of yours are sharp."
Wen Kexing retracted his hand immediately, curling it into a fist. He knew how to be gentle, he did, but that didn't mean that accidents weren't possible. If he had an accident with this, if he ripped open one of those healing scars-
"Hey," Zhou Zishu said, one hand cupping the side of Wen Kexing's face. "I didn't tell you to stop touching me."
Wen Kexing looked up, tilting his head back and baring his throat. He never would have done that in the Valley, even if there was someone he liked enough to look at like this. Baring his throat would have just been an invitation for someone to rip it out. He knew that well; he'd done it himself, multiple times. He'd told himself, sometimes, that he wouldn't even really blame someone who killed him, given that he'd done the same thing to so many people before him. It was lonely at the top, and it was dangerous; being the Ghost Valley Master was like balancing on top of a knife, with hundreds of other knives around you, just waiting for you to fall.
He hadn't fallen. He hadn't let himself. He'd told himself that he wouldn't really blame anyone who'd tried to kill him, but that wasn't true; he would have blamed them, would have burned with hatred, would have torn them to shreds if they'd failed and he'd been able to.
There were a few people who had tried. None of them had succeeded. None of them had lived very long.
"Hey," Zhou Zishu repeated, uncharacteristically gentle. "Where are you going in that head of yours?"
"Nowhere," Wen Kexing replied automatically. "Why would I want to go anywhere else, when I have my A-Xu in front of me here?"
Zhou Zishu's hand curled around until it was at the back of Wen Kexing's head. If he wanted, he could grab a handful of Wen Kexing's hair and yank, pull his head back, tear at him the way so many people had and so many others had tried to do-
But all Zhou Zishu did was gently remove the hairpin from Wen Kexing's hair, then run his fingers through its silky strands. "You should get ready for bed. It's late."
Wen Kexing hummed, leaning into the sensation of Zhou Zishu's fingers brushing through his hair. His nails scraped Wen Kexing's scalp a few times, and they weren't nearly as long as Wen Kexing's own, but they still sent a pleasant shivery feeling through his body at each touch. He wondered, absently, if Zhou Zishu would keep his hand in Wen Kexing's hair if Wen Kexing went down on his knees, if he pushed aside the thin robe that Zhou Zishu had draped over his shoulders and pressed gentle kisses to the inside of his thighs, if he kissed higher and higher-
But they hadn't done any of that yet. They weren't ready, and Wen Kexing wouldn't push; he didn't dare. They would get there eventually, hopefully soon, and if he pushed and ruined everything with his impatience, he would never forgive himself.
"Did you hear what I said?" Zhou Zishu asked, giving Wen Kexing's hair a gentle little tug. It wasn't hard like it had been when other people did the same; he didn't end up with a handful of hair or a bloodied bit of scalp. It was almost playful, and Wen Kexing eagerly searched Zhou Zishu's eyes for a mischievous spark. "Get ready for bed," Zhou Zishu ordered, and his eyes danced.
"A-Xu is so harsh with this poor wife," Wen Kexing said, widening his eyes as he looked up at Zhou Zishu. "Will he not help him prepare for bed?"
"Help?" Zhou Zishu repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Am I your servant?"
"You are my lord and husband," Wen Kexing replied, "and sometimes, that means helping me with my robes."
Zhou Zishu laughed, an uncommon enough sound to send a thrill through Wen Kexing's bones. "Alright, alright. You're impossible. Stand up."
"Ah, but is this not a sweeter angle?" Wen Kexing asked, looking up at Zhou Zishu through his lashes. "Looking at A-Xu like this, he looks like the strongest man in the world."
"You're delusional," Zhou Zishu said flatly. "Stand up."
He tugged a little again, and Wen Kexing let out a little breathy gasp as he allowed it. If anyone else tried…
But this was not anyone else, this was his A-Xu.
"Will my husband make me?"
"I told you, we're not sparring again."
"You're no fun," Wen Kexing sighed, but he did stand. He was a little taller than Zhou Zishu, but to his delight, Zhou Zishu kept his hand in Wen Kexing's hair, even as the angle grew awkward.
"Good," Zhou Zishu praised. "Now, let's get those robes off."
"My husband may do whatever he wishes with me," Wen Kexing replied, and he didn't even fully affect how breathless his voice came out.
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes. "Impossible wife. Take off your robes."
He tightened his grip on Wen Kexing's hair, but didn't tug yet. Wen Kexing could feel him there, could feel the strength in his arm.
If anyone else tried to make him do this, he would kill them. He'd had to do it too many times before. He'd been the old Valley Master's plaything, he'd had to fight off the attentions of so many ghosts as he grew, he'd had to distract them from Gu Xiang with whatever methods he could-
If anyone else twined their fingers in his hair and told him what to do, Wen Kexing would kill them with whatever weapons he had at his disposal; needles, knives, nails. But this was not anyone else; this was Zhou Zishu. This was his A-Xu. This was the only man alive who could command him and get away with it.
Wen Kexing's hands dropped to the knot of his robes, and he undid it. He slipped the silk off his shoulders slowly, hopefully alluringly. Zhou Zishu's eyes only flickered to the movement, and his face remained like stone, but Wen Kexing could see the tips of his ears go ever so slightly pink.
The power that rushed to his head was nearly as dizzying as Zhou Zishu's hand in his hair.
"Good," Zhou Zishu praised again. "Now, let's get the rest of them off."
At this rate, it would take forever to strip Wen Kexing completely of his layers and redress him for sleep. Wen Kexing planned to savor every second of it.
On the mountain, there was simultaneously little privacy and more privacy than Wen Kexing had ever had before. No one could sneak up on them, not where they were. No one could attack them. No one could even visit them, not really. They were safe.
But, on the other hand, the five of them lived in close quarters. The Da Wu wouldn't risk going too far from Zhou Zishu, while Qi Ye wouldn't go far from the Da Wu, and Wen Kexing and Zhang Chengling wouldn't go far from Zhou Zishu either. They had their own private spaces, of course, but any time outside of their rooms had no guarantee of privacy.
Wen Kexing had found, though, that being in the kitchen was only one step down from staying in his room. He was the only one on the mountain who cooked - although apparently not the only one who could, if Zhou Zishu was right about the Da Wu - and thus, other than at meals, few people entered the kitchen. Sometimes, Zhang Chengling would wander in looking for food, and sometimes, Zhou Zishu would wander in looking for Wen Kexing, but the Da Wu rarely came, and Wen Kexing would guess that Qi Ye had never entered a kitchen in his life. It wasn't true privacy, and Wen Kexing never felt quite secure enough to let his guard down, but he was safer. He was unlikely to be disturbed. He could think, he could be, and he didn't have to worry too much that anyone would go in to ruin that.
Still, it wasn't truly private, and Wen Kexing remembered that when Zhang Chengling sidled in.
"Looking for food?" Wen Kexing teased, not pausing in chopping vegetables for dinner. "Dinner will be ready before too long, but there's some walnuts over there, if you'd like."
Zhang Chengling happily took a handful of walnuts and began eating them. "Wen-shu, do you know why Shifu hates walnuts so much?"
"Didn't I tell you to call me Shimu?" Wen Kexing asked. Zhang Chengling went pink. "And your shifu is just a picky eater. Ridiculous, at his age."
"I like walnuts," Zhang Chengling said stalwartly. "I think Shifu would like them if he gave them a chance."
"Perhaps, but if he's not going to eat them, that leaves more for us," Wen Kexing replied. "Hand me some."
Zhang Chengling passed a few walnuts to Wen Kexing, who ate them with one hand as he checked on the rice with the other. "Wen-shu-" Zhang Chengling began, then corrected himself with a blush at Wen Kexing's expression. "Shimu, I- I was wondering if you could teach me how to cook."
"Teach you?" Wen Kexing repeated. "Why? You haven't shown any interest before, and I've tried to get you and A-Xu to learn. Goodness knows what you'd do without me."
"That's why I want to learn!" Zhang Chengling replied eagerly. "It's not fair for you to have to cook all the time, and…"
"And?"
"And… When you were waiting by Shifu's bed… I just wished I could make something nice for you, but I didn't know how, and the Da Wu was busy, and Qi Ye…"
"What did you even eat during that time?" Wen Kexing asked. He'd been focused solely on Zhou Zishu for those three months, on making sure he was breathing and clean and comfortable and drinking the Da Wu's medicinal concoctions at the correct times. He'd eaten, he was fairly certain, but he had no memory of what.
If someone had wanted to kill him, that would have been a good time. Wen Kexing hadn't been so unaware of his surroundings for a long time. If his would-be assassin had gotten close, he would have noticed them, but from a distance…
He shook the thought from his mind. It hadn't happened, and there was no point in dwelling on it.
"Qi Ye and I went down to buy food from the village at the base of the mountain," Zhang Chengling admitted. "And the Da Wu cooked a few times, but not much. And I just…"
"You missed home-cooked food?"
"I wanted to help!" Zhang Chengling cried. "I wanted to do something, and there was nothing I could do!"
Ah.
Wen Kexing knew that helplessness well. He'd felt it too, during the three month coma. He'd done his best to avoid it by caring for Zhou Zishu's every need, but there hadn't been nearly enough to do to fill up his mind entirely. He'd changed the bedding, and he'd washed Zhou Zishu's limp limbs, and he'd redressed him, and he'd poured medicine and water and broth down his throat, and he'd kept one hand tightly wrapped around Zhou Zishu's wrist to monitor his pulse. He'd done everything he could think of, and it still hadn't been enough to keep him from feeling entirely helpless. And Zhang Chengling… The poor boy had had nothing to do, and he'd been just as worried about his shifu as Wen Kexing had been. He'd lost a father before, after all.
"What do you want to learn?" Wen Kexing asked. "Simple meals would probably be best, to start, but I can teach you more complex things if you really want to learn. But you have to be dedicated! And you have to be a better disciple for me than you are for your shifu."
"Of course!" Zhang Chengling promised immediately. "I'll- I'll practice just as hard as I do for Shifu! And I'll do whatever you tell me to do! Can I help now?"
Wen Kexing scanned his workspace. The rice was cooking already, and he didn't trust Zhang Chengling to keep an eye on it properly, but… Well, the boy knew how to use a sword, didn't he? He could probably chop vegetables.
"You can help prepare the vegetables while I prepare the meat," Wen Kexing declared. He beckoned Zhang Chengling over and passed him the knife. "Chop up the spring onions. We'll need… Hmm, about four."
"Yes!" Zhang Chengling cried, grabbing the knife and the spring onions.
"They've already been washed, but you'd normally need to wash them first," Wen Kexing added. "And do your best to make each of the pieces around the same size. Thin, but not too thin. Here, let me show you."
Wen Kexing made the first few slices, then he handed the knife to Zhang Chengling. "Be careful. Don't move too fast. I'd rather you be slow and neat than fast and sloppy."
"Yes, Shimu!"
Wen Kexing checked on the rice again, then he began mixing ingredients to marinate the chicken. The bird was already killed and plucked and prepared, so Zhang Chengling wouldn't have to endure that trauma again, but Wen Kexing would let it sit in the sauce for a while before he cooked it. He checked to make sure his sleeves were tied back properly, then he poured the marinade over the chicken, massaging it in.
"What are you doing?" Zhang Chengling asked, peeking over Wen Kexing's shoulder.
"Preparing the chicken," Wen Kexing replied. "I'm marinating it, to give it flavor."
"You look like you're just rubbing it."
"I am rubbing it," Wen Kexing replied with amusement, "but I'm rubbing in the marinade. I might make you do this next time. As long as I've killed the chicken beforehand, it'll be alright, won't it?"
Zhang Chengling went slightly pink. "Shimu, that was months ago!"
"Butcher a chicken properly, and I'll stop teasing you about it," Wen Kexing replied. "Are those spring onions finished?"
"Not yet!"
"Then work on those," Wen Kexing scolded lightly. He finished massaging in the marinade, and he went over to wash his hands. There was a bit of the sauce caught under one of his long fingernails; he carefully cleaned it out until they were spotless.
"Wouldn't it be easier to trim your nails?" Zhang Chengling asked curiously.
Wen Kexing felt something jump in his chest. He pushed it down. Zhang Chengling was just asking an honest question; he didn't deserve to be scolded for it. "I prefer them long."
"But they get messy, and they get things stuck under them, and they can break off!" Zhang Chengling countered. "Isn't it easier to keep them short?"
"For you, perhaps," Wen Kexing replied, "but I prefer them long."
"Why?"
Don't scold the boy. He didn't deserve it. Don't scold the boy. "Are you so good at chopping spring onions that you don't need to pay any attention to them at all?"
Zhang Chengling whipped back around, focusing intently on the spring onions as he chopped them. Wen Kexing checked the rice again and found it was finished, so he removed it from the heat carefully. He'd cook the chicken, and he'd add the spring onions once Zhang Chengling was finished with them, and then he'd send Zhang Chengling out to fetch Zhou Zishu. Zhang Chengling would fetch the Da Wu and Qi Ye as well, even though Wen Kexing wouldn't specifically tell him to; the boy always did. They'd sit and eat, and hopefully the tight feeling in Wen Kexing's chest would loosen. It always did, eventually.
If he focused on cooking entirely, perhaps he wouldn't feel it at all.
There had been times when it had been safer to keep his nails short. Wen Kexing had worn them long for most of his time in the Ghost Valley, both in his youth and in his time as the Valley Master, but when he'd been the old Valley Master's favorite, he'd learned quickly that keeping them long was a mistake.
The first time he'd gone to the old Valley Master with his nails long, he'd left with three broken fingers and two nails ripped out entirely. He trimmed them down that very night, forcing back panic and nausea, and he hadn't let them grow out again until after he'd skinned the old Valley Master alive.
Other than that, though, Wen Kexing had kept them long. As a small child, before the Valley, perhaps he'd worn them short; he didn't remember clearly enough to know. But as a small ghost, brought into the Valley as little more than a plaything, he'd learned quickly that he needed whatever weapons he could have.
Ten extra weapons, at the tips of his fingers.
He drummed his fingers on the side of the bath, listening to his nails click. They were his last recourse, his last defense. He'd used them once before while bathing; it was one of the few times he didn't have any other weapons on him. There were knives next to the bathtub, of course, and he had his qi, but sometimes, fights were too quick for any of that, and Wen Kexing would have to reduce himself down to the barest, most instinctual weapons. He'd scratch like a feral, wild thing.
Sometimes, he bit. He had a… complicated relationship with biting. Sometimes, it felt too intimate to do with someone attacking him, too much like a secret. He'd bitten Zhou Zishu, but not in an attack or a defense. He'd bitten Gu Xiang once, when she was small and still put things in her mouth; she'd bitten his robes, and he'd bitten her finger, just lightly. She'd stared at him in wide-eyed shock, then bitten him back. And he-
He'd bitten his father, when he'd ripped into his corpse with his teeth and swallowed-
Nails were easier. Nails were less complicated.
At least, nails had been less complicated, until now.
He drummed his fingers again. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. His nails clicked, and he felt the reassurance of their length, of the safety they could bring him. No one on the mountain would interrupt him in the bath - Qi Ye and the Da Wu gave him his privacy, Zhang Chengling would be too mortified, and Zhou Zishu knew better than to sneak up on him in such a situation - but if they did, he had his nails, just in case. If they were attacked, if he was attacked-
He wouldn't be, not on the mountain. Perhaps he could trim his nails down just as long as they were there, and then grow them back out when they left. It wouldn't solve the problem forever, but it could provide a sort of stop-gap measure, something that would put off having to come up with a more permanent solution for a while longer.
He could trim them down. He had the supplies. But the last time Wen Kexing had trimmed his nails down to the quick, it had been because he knew what the old Valley Master would do to him if he didn't. He hadn't done it since. He hadn't wanted to do it. He hadn't wanted to do it the first time either, but he'd known it was better than the alternative. He'd felt panicked, shaky, nauseous - he thought he might have thrown up afterwards, but the memory was too fuzzy to be sure - and he'd still known that it was better than the alternative. That was the only thing that pushed him through it.
If he didn't trim his nails now, the alternative was… What? He had to be careful touching Zhou Zishu? He already was; his zhiji was precious and he treated him accordingly. Zhou Zishu wouldn't let him put his fingers inside him, not with his fingernails, but was that bad enough to be worth trimming them? Zhou Zishu could prepare himself, couldn't he, and then Wen Kexing could…
Wen Kexing looked at his hands. How many fingers did he even need for that? Two? Three? Could he just trim those fingernails? Could he leave the others long? He'd considered it before, but hadn't wanted to do it; had wanted to give every bit of him to Zhou Zishu. But he couldn't bear the thought of being unarmed, he couldn't, so…
"Lao Wen?"
Wen Kexing blinked and realized the bathwater had gone cold. How long had he been in the bath? He had no idea.
"A-Xu," he called back, the name falling from his lips like it was the only thing they'd been made to say.
"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't drowned in there," Zhou Zishu called, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Ah, would my husband miss me?"
"I'd miss your cooking."
"You're so mean to me!"
"If you want me to be mean, I can bar you from our bed tonight."
"A-Xu!"
"I'm going to bed soon," Zhou Zishu declared. "If you want to join me, come and do it soon. You'd better not wake me up."
Wen Kexing scrambled to get out of the bath. He'd cleaned himself before he lost himself in thought; all he had to do was clamber out, squeeze his hair dry, towel himself off, and throw on some light sleeping robes. He burst into the bedroom he shared with Zhou Zishu in a matter of moments, his hair dripping on the floor.
"That was quick," Zhou Zishu said dryly. "You're going to get water everywhere. Don't you know how to dry your hair properly?"
"Can A-Xu teach this foolish wife?" Wen Kexing asked, tilting his head and widening his eyes like a naive young maiden.
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes. "Come here."
Wen Kexing went to him immediately, then whined when Zhou Zishu pushed him down to the floor. "A-Xu!"
"Is my name all you know how to say?" Zhou Zishu scolded. "Useless wife, making me tend to your hair before I can sleep."
"How can this wife make it up to you?" Wen Kexing asked, turning his head to look up at Zhou Zishu.
"By not moving, for one," Zhou Zishu replied, forcibly turning Wen Kexing's head back. For a moment, Wen Kexing wanted to fight, but then Zhou Zishu's hands were back in his hair, and the moment passed. He didn't really dislike it that much when it was Zhou Zishu manhandling him, after all.
Zhou Zishu's fingers ran through Wen Kexing's hair, nails scraping his scalp ever so slightly, sensation so much better than any comb could ever be. "Needy," Zhou Zishu scolded as Wen Kexing leaned into him. "You liked my hands in your hair that much?"
"I like A-Xu's hands anywhere on me," Wen Kexing replied, although he had particularly enjoyed when Zhou Zishu had lightly pulled his hair the other night. "How could I not, when A-Xu's hands are so skilled?"
"Needy," Zhou Zishu repeated, but he ran his fingers through Wen Kexing's hair more slowly, his fingernails scraping his scalp with a bit more force. Wen Kexing felt his bones begin to melt.
His hair had been wet, coming out of the bath, but it hadn't been particularly tangled; Zhou Zishu spent far longer than he had to on combing it. When it was finally combed to his satisfaction, he separated it into three sections and braided them loosely. "There," he declared, "so it doesn't tangle overnight."
Wen Kexing turned to look up at Zhou Zishu with wide eyes. "If it does, will my husband brush it again?"
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes. "Perhaps. If my wife can make it worth my while."
"My husband is so good to me," Wen Kexing said, crawling up into bed.
Zhou Zishu didn't respond, but Wen Kexing could see the smile on his face before he blew out the candle.
The Da Wu had taught Wen Kexing some medical techniques, during the lead-up to the surgery and the three months when Zhou Zishu was comatose. All things that could be used to help Zhou Zishu, of course; Wen Kexing cared for little else. No one else alive was worthy of his assistance, except perhaps Zhang Chengling; but he was uninjured, while Zhou Zishu had had his meridians shattered and carefully rebuilt.
The Da Wu's techniques were of Nanjiang, often utilizing herbs that were rarely found outside of it. He'd brought supplies with him, what appeared to be an unending stream of them, and he'd told Wen Kexing that he could visit in Nanjiang if he wished to use them for anything else. He'd told Wen Kexing of some Nanjiang techniques that were practically impossible outside it; techniques that required freshly-harvested Nanjiang herbs or components from native creatures that rarely strayed outside its borders. There were a few things, he'd said with regret, that could have helped Zhou Zishu, but he needed the cold of the mountain more, and there no places cold enough in Nanjiang.
Wen Kexing absorbed all the knowledge he could, eagerly swallowing anything that could help Zhou Zishu. He wondered how much of what the Da Wu taught him had been known to his parents, and how much they'd known that the Da Wu didn't. He wondered if they'd tried to teach him any of the same things, back when he was young and stubborn and had no idea how close he was to losing everything he'd ever known.
A few days after the conversation with Qi Ye, the Da Wu stepped up to Wen Kexing while Zhou Zishu and Zhang Chengling were fighting and said, "Come with me. I have something to show you."
Wen Kexing shot one last glance at Zhou Zishu, then he followed. He was not inclined to be obedient, not normally, but the Da Wu had saved Zhou Zishu; he would do as he asked. And if the Da Wu had something to show him… Well, normally that meant he wanted to impart some sort of medical knowledge that would help Zhou Zishu, so Wen Kexing went without complaint.
The Da Wu had taken over one of the rooms as his private laboratory, and it was there that he led Wen Kexing. Wen Kexing had been inside before, but not often, and never alone; the Da Wu let no one in alone, not even his precious Qi Ye. It was not out of possessiveness, but out of protection. There were many things in the laboratory that could be harmful if handled incorrectly, and there were far too many risk of accidents. The Da Wu promised he had the antidotes for anything that could go wrong - "of course you do, my little toxin," Qi Ye had said fondly, "you always have the cure to everything" - but it was better to avoid being poisoned in the first place. Wen Kexing made sure to be aware of his limbs and his clothes as he followed the Da Wu to a table in the center of the laboratory.
"Do you know what phantom pain is?" the Da Wu asked, gathering ingredients.
"A sort of lingering pain, after an injury is healed," Wen Kexing replied. Like the way some of his scars hurt sometimes, for no discernible reason. "Will A-Xu have it, with the Nails?"
"He may," the Da Wu replied. "It should lessen with time. I'm going to show you how to make a potion that should blunt it. I could make something better in Nanjiang, but you won't be in Nanjiang, and this is made with ingredients that are easy to find anywhere in Da Qing."
That meant it was, quite possibly, something that the Da Wu had had to research himself before teaching it to Wen Kexing. He had enough Nanjiang ingredients on him that he could probably have made the other potions himself, but if they were on the road and Zhou Zishu began to feel the pain, Wen Kexing wouldn't be able to help. With this recipe, he could.
Wen Kexing bowed. "Thank you, Da Wu."
"You don't need to thank me," the Da Wu said in his usual blunt way. "I owe Zishu. This is only part of paying back my debt."
"He helped you save Qi Ye," Wen Kexing said slowly, probingly. He'd heard that much, but he didn't know any more of the story. He hated not knowing any stories that might teach him more about his A-Xu. "What did he do?"
The Da Wu was silent for a moment, perhaps weighing if he could trust Wen Kexing with the truth. Finally, he said, "Do you know who Beiyuan truly is?"
"Prince Nan'ning," Wen Kexing replied without skipping a beat. He'd spent a lot of time cut off from the world while in Ghost Valley, but he'd done everything he could to learn about the places and people outside. He knew the name Jing Beiyuan.
He also knew that Jing Beiyuan was supposed to be dead.
"When I was eleven," the Da Wu said slowly, "I was taken as a hostage in Da Qing. I was the heir to the previous Da Wu, and so I was brought to Da Qing to ensure the obedience of Nanjiang. And also, I think, to foster connections for the next generation, but… I did not foster many, except with Beiyuan."
"You fell in love with him," Wen Kexing said quietly.
"Very deeply," the Da Wu agreed. "We were around seventeen when I first realized. I don't know when he fell in love with me, but he did, eventually. But Da Qing was in danger, and my ten years as a hostage were up, and Beiyuan knew I would throw myself in danger for him, so he drugged me and sent me back to Nanjiang alone."
Wen Kexing didn't show any outward signs of surprise, but he couldn't help but feel some. That must have been the betrayal Qi Ye had mentioned before. Qi Ye was devious enough that there was little Wen Kexing would put past him, but drugging the one he loved…
Then again, it was to get him out of danger. Wen Kexing would do worse to protect Zhou Zishu.
"By the time I managed to return to Da Qing, it was almost too late," the Da Wu continued. "I found Beiyuan bleeding out in a battlefield. I brought him back to safety and nursed him back to health. I… At times, I didn't know if he would survive. It took a month before he even woke."
Wen Kexing felt a fierce burst of sympathy. One month wasn't as long as he'd waited, but he'd known, more or less, that Zhou Zishu would survive. As long as the Da Wu hadn't been worried, Wen Kexing had done his best to convince himself there was nothing to worry about.
But for the Da Wu and Qi Ye, apparently things had been more dire.
"Beiyuan was close with the current Emperor, back when he was the crown prince," the Da Wu said, almost absently. He didn't sound like he was telling a story to someone, he sounded almost like he was just talking to himself. Wen Kexing didn't dare break the spell, eager to hear how the story ended, how Zhou Zishu fit into it. "They were… friends, but Beiyuan was afraid of him. Helian Yi is a great man, but he is not always a good one." The Da Wu shrugged. "Beiyuan can be the same, and so can Zishu. But they've both left that life behind. Helian Yi cannot. I feel badly for him sometimes, but I knew I couldn't leave Beiyuan in his clutches. I knew that Beiyuan would be in danger for as long as he remained in that court, and I didn't think that Helian Yi would ever let him go."
The Da Wu looked at Wen Kexing, lifting his chin. He was younger than Wen Kexing, and shorter too, but in that moment, he looked almost imperious. "So I didn't give him the option to keep him. I told Helian Yi that Beiyuan was dead, and I brought him back to Nanjiang. Zishu helped. He found a body to play the part of Beiyuan's, and he made sure we were able to leave the city unmolested. I would not have the life I have now without his aid, and I will owe him for that forever."
"A-Xu is a good man," Wen Kexing said quietly. Better than Wen Kexing deserved, certainly. "And a romantic, even if he would rather die than admit it."
"I think perhaps we can all be romantics, if we're happy enough," the Da Wu replied. "Beiyuan certainly is. The amount of matchmaking he does in Nanjiang…" The Da Wu shook his head with obvious fondness. "He's looked for someone for Zishu, but he's never been able to find anyone he thought was perfect. I believe he promised him a 'slim-waisted Nanjiang bride' and has been looking for one ever since."
Wen Kexing's throat went dry with jealousy, even though the Da Wu had just clearly said that Qi Ye had never found Zhou Zishu's promised bride. "He'll have no reason to keep looking," he said, unable to keep the bite out of his words.
"He likes you," the Da Wu said absently, turning away from Wen Kexing to gather ingredients. "He thinks you're good for Zishu. He told me you were funny, and Zishu deserves someone who can make him laugh."
Wen Kexing had never once thought he cared about approval from Qi Ye. Hearing that he had it, though, soothed some ache that he hadn't known was there. Neither he nor Zhou Zishu had a family to introduce to their new partner, but Zhou Zishu clearly cared deeply for Qi Ye; he was something of a brother to him, making him perhaps the closest thing Zhou Zishu had to family. And, apparently, he approved of Wen Kexing.
"Here are the ingredients," the Da Wu said, setting a handful of little bottles down on the table. "Let me show you how to make the potion."
"Yes," Wen Kexing agreed slowly, then, more firmly, "Yes. Thank you, Da Wu."
"I already told you that you don't need to thank me. Pay attention. We'll start by grinding these herbs together."
Wen Kexing watched attentively, and he only let a small corner of his mind bask in the newly-gained approval of Zhou Zishu's family.
It wasn't until that evening, while Wen Kexing changed his robes due to a soup-related accident - perpetrated, of course, by Zhang Chengling, the clumsiest boy he'd ever known - that he realized that, while Qi Ye was the closest thing Zhou Zishu had to family, Gu Xiang had been the closest thing for him.
He wasn't sure what had made him think of her. Perhaps it was because she too had gone through a clumsy phase, although when she was much younger than Zhang Chengling. Perhaps it was because he knew she would have laughed at him, when the thankfully-cooled soup spilled all over his lap. Perhaps it was because he'd unfolded a new set of robes and noticed that there was a slight wrinkle to them, a few shallow creases in the silk. Gu Xiang had always been better at packing things neatly than Wen Kexing himself. Wen Kexing didn't know where she'd learned the trick of it, but she could fold things smaller than he could, and his robes never wrinkled when she was the one to pack them. Once they'd both realized that, she'd taken over packing his things entirely; another example of the way they'd pantomimed a master and servant relationship, even though Wen Kexing had never seen her as a servant. She'd been something between a little sister and a daughter, she'd been family, and she'd loved Zhou Zishu.
And, now, she was gone.
Wen Kexing had not yet gone back for her body. It had been months, and he didn't even know if it was still there, but he told himself he hadn't had the chance. At first, he'd been too weak; he'd hardly been able to get out of bed. Then, he'd been in too much of a hurry; they'd needed to meet up with Qi Ye and the Da Wu as quickly as possible, to save Zhou Zishu. And then, he'd been too occupied; he'd been preparing for Zhou Zishu's surgery, then sitting by his bedside, and now watching over his recovery. He hadn't had the moment to go down and dig her a grave, to carve the characters of the grave markers, to lay her in the ground in the last touch he would ever be able to give his little A-Xiang.
Perhaps it was simpler; he'd been too weak all along. Too weak to face the grave. Too weak to face her. Too weak earlier as well; too weak to save her, too weak not to let her save him. She had been his - his servant, his sister, his daughter - and he'd failed her.
What right did he have to prostrate himself at her grave and beg for forgiveness? Gu Xiang was gone; he could beg for her forgiveness as much as he liked, but she could not give it.
He could still feel her in his arms sometimes. Sometimes, the sensation would come when he thought of her, an understandable flash of grief, but sometimes it would hit him unbidden, unexpected, unexplained. He would be sparring with Zhou Zishu or cooking with Zhang Chengling or listening to the Da Wu, and suddenly he would feel Gu Xiang's blood on his hands, on his arms, soaking through his sleeves. He'd held her tightly, and she'd bled a lot; her blood had gotten everywhere. Her back had felt like bone and viscera. He could feel it so, so often.
He had not been sane since he was a small child, he knew that. But there had been a certain stability, ever since Zhou Zishu. A tentative one, with no guarantee of permanence, but something nonetheless. With Gu Xiang's death, Wen Kexing felt like he'd lost part of his foundation, and he was teetering again.
He had not entirely expected to survive the return to the Ghost Valley in the first place. When Gu Xiang had died in his arms, he had not entirely wanted to. When the Scorpion came to kill him, Wen Kexing had been complacent about his fate. He'd been grateful that he finished his work first. His only regret had been that he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to Zhou Zishu. It would be alright, though, he told himself; he could see Gu Xiang off, and then he could wait for Zhou Zishu to join him before passing into the next life.
And then, Zhou Zishu had saved him.
Wen Kexing wondered how much of him was left to be saved. How much of him was human anymore? His parents' deaths had taken most of his humanity. Gu Xiang's death had taken more. If Zhou Zishu died, Wen Kexing thought there would be none of him left, nothing but a ghost.
He did not feel like much more than a ghost anyway.
He could feel Gu Xiang in his arms again; a predictable insanity this time. She'd clutched his lapels. He'd kept her from collapsing for as long as he could. His hands had dripped with her blood. She'd called him gege, for the first and last time. Her blood had soaked through his sleeves, all the way down to his skin. He could feel it; his arms felt sticky with the specific tackiness of fresh blood. He could feel the shards of her bones against his hands, the awful give of her mangled flesh against his fingertips. Her blood and guts were caught under his nails. He had to be clean, he had to get rid of the blood, he had to escape this hell, he had to get her blood off his arms, he was losing his mind and he couldn't breathe and he was covered in Gu Xiang's blood, he hadn't been able to protect her, she'd died for him for him for HIM-
"Lao Wen!"
Wen Kexing let out a horrible noise when hands gripped his wrists, some combination of a scream and a sob and a snarl. He fought against the grip, trying to wrest his hands free, trying to clean off the blood, trying to save Gu Xiang, trying to join her-
"Lao Wen, calm down! You're hurting yourself!"
Good, Wen Kexing should hurt. Gu Xiang had taken the fatal blow for him; a little pain was the least of what he could bear in repayment. She'd died because he hadn't been able to save her, because he'd needed her to save him, because he hadn't been good enough and he hadn't been prepared enough and he hadn't been enough. He was a lunatic, he was a murderer, he was a ghost, he could only ruin and never save-
The hands let go of his wrists, then they reappeared on his cheeks, holding his face so tightly it almost hurt. "Wen Kexing!" the voice said firmly, with a not-quite-hidden tinge of desperation. "Look at me. Calm down and look at me."
His face was pointed towards someone; Wen Kexing blinked until the image resolved itself into Zhou Zishu's drawn face. He looked worried, but some of the worry seemed to melt away when Wen Kexing was able to meet his eyes.
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu said, his voice much gentler, "what the hell are you doing?"
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing breathed, and he didn't know what words would come out of his mouth until he whispered, "I don't want to cut my nails."
"Then don't," Zhou Zishu replied with the usual bluntness he used with Wen Kexing. "Just stop digging them into your own arms."
He was digging his nails into his arms, wasn't he? Wen Kexing looked down and saw that the blood under his nails was only his own, weeping sluggishly from half-moon wounds. He'd been changing his robes; he hadn't had clothes on to protect himself from his own hands. He hadn't felt Gu Xiang's blood on his fingertips, he'd felt his own.
Slowly, Wen Kexing uncurled his fingers and let go of his arms.
"Alright," Zhou Zishu said gently. "Alright, Lao Wen. You're alright."
Wen Kexing let Zhou Zishu pull him into an embrace, falling bonelessly against his chest. One of Zhou Zishu's hands splayed across his back, sending thin streams of qi to close the wounds his arms, and the other cupped around the back of his neck, holding him close. "It's alright," Zhou Zishu murmured, "I've got you, you can just… keep crying if you need to," and that was how Wen Kexing realized he was crying. Not sobbing, not weeping, just crying silently, tears dripping off his cheeks. He rarely cried; for a long time, he'd thought he'd forgotten how.
The tears felt good, like a relief. Wen Kexing closed his eyes and buried his face in Zhou Zishu's shoulder, and he let them fall.
He didn't quite fall asleep, but he drifted. He came back to his body when Zhou Zishu shifted underneath him, and he wondered how long it had been. The wounds on his arms were gone; the blood under his nails remained. The collar of Zhou Zishu's robes was soaked through.
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing whispered, his voice raw.
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu replied. "Let's clean you up."
Wen Kexing let Zhou Zishu pull him to his feet and lead him to the bed. He sat on the edge, as directed, and waited as Zhou Zishu disappeared briefly out the door. He was in his body again, but he still felt somewhat untethered, like he wasn't properly in his own body but instead was shifted a bit to the left. He didn't know how long it was until Zhou Zishu returned with a bowl of water; he didn't think it was long.
"Can I?" Zhou Zishu asked, holding up a wet rag, and Wen Kexing nodded without properly comprehending what was being asked. Carefully, Zhou Zishu wiped the blood from his arms, scrubbing it away until his forearms were slightly pink but spotless. Wen Kexing watched as Zhou Zishu dipped the rag in the water to rinse it, then took one of his hands and began to clean it in turn.
The blood seeped into the water, turning it red. One year, an owl overturned a bowl of red water-
"You said you didn't want to cut your nails," Zhou Zishu said as he carefully cleaned the blood out from under them. He didn't elaborate, but Wen Kexing could hear the question in his words.
He had tried to solve the problem himself. He had failed. He should have talked to Zhou Zishu from the beginning.
"I want to… touch you," Wen Kexing said slowly, trusting that Zhou Zishu would understand and let the words pass without breaking their fragile truce on such matters, "but I… I don't want to cut my nails."
"Then we can figure something out," Zhou Zishu replied. "Just don't cut your nails. It's not that big a deal."
Of course he would say so. Wen Kexing let out a rasping noise that sounded almost like a laugh, if the listener was generous.
"A-Xu. I want to be gentle for you. I want to be human. I do not know how."
The look on Zhou Zishu's face was entirely unimpressed. For a moment, Wen Kexing was worried, although he knew he had no need to be. Zhou Zishu had seen him at his worst, and he had not run; he would not run.
It was easier to know that than to feel it. Wen Kexing hoped it would get easier to feel it with time.
"When," Zhou Zishu said, "did I ever say I wanted you to be gentle?"
"A-Xu."
"Why would I want someone gentle? What would I do with someone gentle? I deal with enough of that with Chengling, you think I'd want to deal with it with a partner too? You're supposed to be my zhiji, Lao Wen. How am I supposed to be known by someone who's gentle?"
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing repeated, the name leaving his lips like a prayer.
"Gentle," Zhou Zishu scoffed. "As if I'd want someone gentle when I could have someone like you."
"Very well," Wen Kexing said over the burst of warmth in his chest, "I won't be gentle. But you must want someone human."
Zhou Zishu shrugged. "You're human enough."
Wen Kexing let out a humorless laugh. "The Ghost Valley Master, a human? I was born a ghost, A-Xu, didn't I tell you?"
"You're not the Ghost Valley Master anymore, you dramatic ass," Zhou Zishu countered. "You're my annoying wife."
"A-Xu… With what I've done…"
"You've killed people," Zhou Zishu said flatly. "So have I. You've done worse. So have I. Someday, Beiyuan and I can tell you about all the things we did to put Helian Yi on the throne. If you're not human, Lao Wen, then I'm not either. We can both be monsters together." Zhou Zishu shrugged. "Or we can both decide we're not going to do that shit anymore, and we can be human together."
It sounded lovely. It sounded impossible. "Can we decide that?" Wen Kexing asked. "If I am not the Ghost Valley Master anymore, then what am I supposed to be?"
"Wen Kexing," Zhou Zishu replied. "Lao Wen. My zhiji. Chengling's shimu, if you insist on calling yourself that. A pretty good martial artist. An annoying scholar who quotes poetry too much. A weirdo who comes up with creepy bedtime stories. We can be what we want to be." He looked at Wen Kexing. "What do you want to be?"
"Yours," Wen Kexing replied immediately. "I want to be yours."
Zhou Zishu smiled at him, just a little bit. It wasn't a wide smile, Zhou Zishu rarely smiled widely, but Wen Kexing loved it anyway.
"Well, that's a good start."
Three days later, Wen Kexing found a small bottle of nail paint on the table beside their bed. Heaven only knew where Zhou Zishu - for of course it had to be a gift from Zhou Zishu - had gotten it. When Wen Kexing checked, the paint wasn't his usual red, but instead a lovely pale green, like the first shoots of new growth when the plants returned in the spring.
It would clash horribly with at least half of his robes. He loved it.
That night, he would ask Zhou Zishu to help him paint his nails, his ten beautiful extra weapons. Perhaps one day, he would no longer need them, but until then…
He was human. He was alive. Zhou Zishu was by his side, and he was his. And for now…
For now, that would be enough.