Chapter Text
Sui Zhou attacks the lone man with the broad brimmed hat first—a single target is better than the two professional assassins that Li Zilong must have sent. His sword meets the stranger's with a loud shriek of metal. He hears Tang Fan call out his name, and he dares to look over his shoulder. He sees Tang Fan hesitating in the shadows. The other two are closing in from the other end of the street.
"Go!" he shouts, and something in his voice makes Tang Fan actually listen for once, spinning on his heel and racing away into the night. Sui Zhou shifts his stance to cover his exit, and the man in the hat follows. Their swords meet again.
Sui Zhou's opponent is huge, as broad as a stone wall, and does not give up any ground. He does, however, tip his head back so that his face catches the weak moonlight. This close, Sui Zhou can see him clearly.
"Jia Kui?" he spits out. "Why are you here?"
"Wang Zhi's orders," says Jia Kui.
Fear grips Sui Zhou by the throat. If Wang Zhi really is entangled in the conspiracy with Li Zilong and Ma Lin—
"To kill Tang Fan?" he demands. Their swords are still locked and neither show signs of relenting.
Jia Kui is not the sort of man to wear his feelings close to the surface, but Sui Zhou catches a slight quirk of confusion in his brow. "To help protect him." Jia Kui nods over Sui Zhou's shoulder. "Unless you'd like to handle these two alone?"
The fine hairs on Sui Zhou's neck stand on end, and he hears the telltale sound of two blades being unsheathed. He turns just in time to block a high swipe from one of the assassins. The other stranger slashes at Sui Zhou's middle, but is stopped by Jia Kui, who grabs him by the arm.
All right. For now, it seems Jia Kui can be trusted. Sui Zhou fends off his own man and slips in behind Jia Kui so they can fight back to back. It feels good, to finally have some outlet, someone to fight.
Their two opponents are formidable, but not perfect—one makes a misstep, gives Sui Zhou an opening, and after a flurry of strikes and counterstrikes, he has the man pinned against a wall with his sword at his throat.
"Tell me why Li Zilong sent you," he says, "and you can go free."
The man just grins at him. "Actually," he says, "you're going to put down your sword and come with us."
Sui Zhou lets his blade lean heavier against the man's throat. A thin line of red wells from his skin. "Why would I do that?" he snarls.
"Because if I don't bring you in, my friends will go to the manor and take the little girl instead." His grin widens.
All the air leaves Sui Zhou's lungs. His grip on his sword hilt wavers. He tries to remember their cover story. "She's just a servant. What would Li Zilong want with her?"
"I gather she's not just a servant, just like you aren't that little fancy boy's butler," he says. "It's up to you. What'll it be: you or her?"
It's not even a choice. Sui Zhou does not have to think at all. His arm drops and his sword falls from his nerveless fingers to rest in the dirt.
"Smart," says the assassin, and spins Sui Zhou around to hold a knife to his throat. "Hey! We're done here!" he shouts, and his compatriot scrambles away from Jia Kui.
Jia Kui catches sight of Sui Zhou being held captive, his sword on the ground. He takes a step forward, determination etched on his face.
Sui Zhou pins him with a look. "Don't worry about me. Find Tang Fan. Tell him I said you're bringing him boiled eggs." Hopefully Tang Fan will understand the secret meaning: that Jia Kui can be trusted, that he's here to help.
Jia Kui scowls. "Eggs?"
A frustrated grunt leaves Sui Zhou, and before he can elaborate or tell Jia Kui to just run already, one of the assassins hits him on the back of his head. Everything goes black.
When Sui Zhou wakes up, the first thing he notices is the noise.
It's loud. There's a harsh clanging sound that rings out every few seconds in a steady beat. It's hot, too, hotter than the kitchen with all the cooking fires going. Sui Zhou is sweating in his clothes. He sits up with a groan, touching the back of his head gingerly. His fingertips come away clean, no blood. And his hands and feet aren't bound, so that's something. He's been imprisoned in worse circumstances.
He peers around the room, but it's dark. No windows. The noise is coming from above, he realizes. He's in a cellar, no idea how long he's been out. He makes a careful inspection of the room, one hand on the wall, tripping over crates of some kind in the dark. There is one door and it's locked tight. There's nothing he can do about that, so he returns to his spot on the ground.
He waits. He waits a very long time.
His head pounds with the repeated clang of machinery above his head. Sui Zhou concludes the sound must be the forge. He's being held captive directly beneath Li Zilong's counterfeiting operation, though he can't imagine why. His stomach growls but he ignores it. His mouth is dry but he ignores it. His heart aches when he wonders if Tang Fan is safe, wondering about Dong'er. Those things, he can't ignore.
At last a door opens, a rectangle of light in the otherwise pitch black room. Sui Zhou lifts a hand to shade his eyes, but catches a glimpse of the crates that surround him. They must hold scrap iron; one has fallen on its side behind one of the stacks and burst, its contents in a pile on the floor.
The door shuts. A candle flame dances, illuminating the face of Li Zilong. He must shout to be heard over the forge. "Are you comfortable, Sui-baihu?"
The use of his former title is meant to elicit a response, so Sui Zhou does not speak, does not move. He sits in an easy sprawl on the basement floor and keeps his peace. He knows how men like this are. They love talking. Sui Zhou won't give him the satisfaction of a conversation partner.
Li Zilong tutts as he strides forward. "I was right about the girl, wasn't I? You wouldn't trade places with a mere servant. It's rather sweet, actually."
Sui Zhou keeps his face impassive. There is a retort on his tongue, a desire to tell this man that even if Dong'er was a stranger to him, he would never allow a child to be harmed. But men like this, who look at living humans and see only game pieces on a board, would never understand such things. Why even try to explain?
His silence seems to amuse Li Zilong, who laughs in a way that is drowned out by the noise. "Fine. Good. I suppose we will see soon enough if I am right about Tang-daren as well." He turns to leave.
The pulse in Sui Zhou's throat hammers in time with his headache. He knows he shouldn't rise to the bait, he knows—
He calls over the heavy clanking of the machines. "Right about what?"
Li Zilong pauses with his hand on the door. He looks over his shoulder with a serenity that makes Sui Zhou itch. He leaves the door for the moment and glides over to Sui Zhou, standing at his feet. The candle in his hand flickers. He gestures for Sui Zhou to stand up, to come closer, and though he's loath to follow any orders, however innocuous they seem, Sui Zhou needs to know. He gets to his feet and leans in so that Li Zilong can whisper in his ear instead of shouting over the noise.
"About whether Tang-daren loves his devoted husband more than he loves solving his little mysteries," he says into Sui Zhou's ear.
Sui Zhou suppresses a shudder of disgust. He tries to draw away, but Li Zilong claws his fingers into Sui Zhou's robes.
"You see, I think he was sent here by someone. I think he wanted to ingratiate himself to that old fool, Ma Lin. I think he's been against us from the start. And I think he will go to great lengths to keep you safe. So I sent him a letter this morning to let him know you are my guest, and that if he wants you returned, he will provide me with the names of those who are working to uncover this scheme of mine."
Sui Zhou's jaw tightens. It's almost funny, the way Li Zilong has miscalculated so badly. Their playacting must have been more convincing than Sui Zhou had thought.
"You may as well kill me now. Tang Fan will never hand information over to you." For once, he doesn't have to lie. He knows it down to his bones: his life is worth nothing compared to this case, and Tang Fan understands that better than anyone. No one is coming to save him.
Li Zilong's eyes widen mockingly. "Not even for you?" He pats Sui Zhou on the cheek, laughing at his flinch. "So much for true love."
That is one thing they can agree on. Sui Zhou lets out one long breath through his nose. His eyes bore into Li Zilong. "Do you know what I think?" he says.
Li Zilong cups a hand to his ear. "What? Speak up, it's so loud in here."
"I think," says Sui Zhou, not raising his voice above a bare growl, "that you took the wrong man hostage."
No one is coming to save him. That's fine. He will save himself.
His hand darts out and snuffs the candle in Li Zilong's grip. The room is plunged into total darkness, but Sui Zhou remembers the layout well. He reaches for the broken crate and palms a small piece of iron, hard and blunt. No good. He drops that one and feels through the pile until his palm meets a dull edge. Better. He takes the piece and grapples in the dark for Li Zilong, who cries out to the guards for help.
The door opens again and two shapes block the light. Sui Zhou recognizes them as the men who took him off the street. He shoves Li Zilong at them, causing them to stumble, and then shoulders his way forward. In the dark, he can strike them before they can even see him get close. He is fast, and full of rage, and ready to hurt someone who deserves it. More men flood in; Li Zilong has employed a veritable gang, it seems, but it doesn't matter. Sui Zhou is his own army.
"I have had—" Sui Zhou shouts over the din of the forge as he kicks one man's knee out from under him. "—a very bad day!" He tosses one man into another. "A bad series of days!" He bashes the other's face into the wall. "And now—" He sits atop Li Zilong where he's sprawled in a heap on the ground. His fingers find a knife at the belt of one of the injured guards, and this he places just beside the reptile's wide eye so that the point threatens to puncture it like a piece of overripe fruit. "I just want to go home," he pants.
"So go!" Li Zilong's high, panicked voice would be extremely satisfying if Sui Zhou had time to enjoy it. His pupils jerk toward the door, which is slowly falling closed. "No one is stopping you."
For half a moment, Sui Zhou almost believes him. Something deep in his gut wants so badly to get out of here, to get to safety, that he makes a slight error. He takes his eyes off Li Zilong to gauge the distance to the open door, and while he's distracted one of the guards rolls to his feet and slashes at Sui Zhou across his back with his sword.
Sui Zhou's still wearing the dragon-embossed cuirass, so he's protected from the worst of the blow, but the sword edge catches low on his back, tearing through his robes and cutting into his skin. The pain is sharp and bright in this dull, dark room, and Sui Zhou is strangely glad for it. It brings everything into focus.
He fights tooth and nail. There is no artistry to it, just an animal howling in his throat, pushing him to bite and jab, to steal weapons from numb hands and fashion ones from whatever he can reach. He thinks he might kill one of the hired men. He knows he knocks out Li Zilong because he stops barking orders. There are more men to take care of, but Sui Zhou can feel exhaustion seeping into his bones. A hand grabs for him, but he slips free and moves as quick as he can toward the door.
The door leads to a hall, which leads to a set of steps carved into the rock. Is his pursuer following? Sui Zhou doesn't look back. He feels his leg bleeding sluggishly with every step. His fingers find a dainty little knife stabbed into the meat of his thigh. He wrenches it free with a grunt, lets it clatter to the stone floor.
He claws his way toward the light, toward the noise. Except the regular clanging of machinery has stopped—it's only an echo in his head that Sui Zhou is still hearing. Threaded through that is the sound of a dozen voices, men shouting different things. He squints as the light gets brighter. His hand shields his eyes. His back throbs; his leg aches; his skull is on the verge of splitting apart.
But still he puts one foot in front of the other. Again, then once more, then once again. Because one of those voices—he could swear it's Tang Fan's.
Sui Zhou turns a corner in the corridor and blinks at the sight. It must be a dream. Perhaps he's lost more blood than he thought, and this is all some vision his mind has conjured before he passes out. The floor of the warehouse comes into view in a swirl of activity. He sees the uniforms of the Yunhe guard filling the room, and in the middle of them all stands the slight, pale form of Tang Fan in his official's robes, giving orders in that bossy tone of his.
"Detain every man you find," he is saying. Jia Kui stands like a sentinel at his side. "Leave no stone unturned. He must be here somewhere, he—"
Then Tang Fan turns and catches sight of Sui Zhou leaning heavily against the wall. His eyes go huge. His mouth shapes Sui Zhou's courtesy name, silent in the din. He runs towards Sui Zhou, though in his dazed state, it seems to Sui Zhou that Tang Fan is caught in slow motion, his sleeves flapping so that he looks like a bird in flight. Sui Zhou takes another painful step forward, his blood-slick hand slipping on the stone wall. He falls.
But Tang Fan is there, and somehow he catches Sui Zhou before he can hit the ground. They collapse to the floor together, Tang Fan pillowing him in his lap.
"Li Zilong," Sui Zhou gasps out. "He's below in the basement. He—"
"No, Guangchuan, don't speak." Tang Fan's face is a pale oval hovering above him, mouth and eyes red. "You're hurt."
"I won't die from it," Sui Zhou manages to say, almost affronted by the idea.
Tang Fan stares at him. He has dark circles under his eyes. Sui Zhou wonders if he'd gotten any sleep last night, or if it's just dirt. Sui Zhou lifts a hand to wipe it away, but his arm protests at being lifted, so he drops it back at his side uselessly.
"If something had happened to you..." Tang Fan murmurs. He bends until his warm forehead is pressed against Sui Zhou's, his eyes slipping closed. "Oh, Guangchuan. Who would keep me fed?"
That makes Sui Zhou laugh, or at least try to. It comes out as more of a dry exhale, his side hitching in pain at the movement. His lips curve in something of a smile. It's absurd that they're lying on the ground like this; it's ridiculous that Tang Fan is here at all. Sui Zhou doesn't understand why he's here. He's very tired all of a sudden. He wants nothing more than to sleep.
Tang Fan seems to understand, thankfully. "Rest," he whispers against Sui Zhou's cheek. "I've got you." And his lips meet Sui Zhou's in a quiet kiss full of sweetness, of relief. Sui Zhou kisses him in return, clumsy and slow.
Before he's dragged down into unconsciousness, Sui Zhou wonders why their ruse is still in place, and for whose benefit Tang Fan is still kissing him. But then he goes under, and thinks of nothing.
When he wakes, the first thing Sui Zhou notices is that he is not in his own bed.
He's in the manor's largest bedroom, that lavishly appointed room where Tang Fan has been sleeping. He recognizes the painting of two cranes on the wall and Tang Fan's collection of hair ornaments on the dressing table. He turns his head with a grunt and stops short—on the other side of the bed is Tang Fan, laying atop the covers, curled into a tight ball facing Sui Zhou. He's sleeping deeply, his long eyelashes brushing against the dark shadows beneath his eyes. His robes show stains along the hem, likely from the filthy floor of the forge. Sui Zhou sits up slowly, careful not to wake him.
He looks down at himself, letting the bedclothes pool at his waist. He's shirtless, his wounds bandaged. Someone has dressed him in a fresh pair of loose black trousers, but nothing else. The pain is a distant echo; he'd probably been given some decoction that dulls it. He wonders who the doctor was that treated him and whether Tang Fan was able to keep himself from interfering with the poor man's work. He can imagine Tang Fan pestering a gnarled old doctor with constant comparisons to Pei Huai, far away in the capital. The thought is a warm one that lights Sui Zhou up from inside before he tamps it down.
Further investigation yields a tray on the bedside table holding a tea set. Two cups sit there, both full. Sui Zhou reaches over Tang Fan's slumbering form and picks one up. It's stone cold and tastes bitter, but he drinks it anyway just to wash the taste of stale sleep from his mouth. A chair has been pulled up to the bedside as well, he notices, as if Tang Fan had meant to sit vigil while Sui Zhou slept, then succumbed to sleep himself.
The house is quiet. Sui Zhou can't hear a single soul moving. Judging from the morning light playing at the windows, it's still early. He must have been asleep for a long time.
It's almost nice, sitting in bed with nothing to do. But Sui Zhou can't sit there forever. He needs to know what's happening. With not a little regret, he puts a hand to Tang Fan's shoulder and shakes him gently.
"Runqing," he says, low and quiet. "Wake up."
Tang Fan wakes as he always does, gracelessly and without an ounce of appreciation for the morning. He screws up his face and then buries it in the bolster. A wordless grumble gets muffled there.
"Come on," Sui Zhou sighs. He shakes him a little more. "Open your eyes."
That, Tang Fan manages to do. He turns his head, his gaze catching on Sui Zhou's face, and for a moment he smiles like a young boy, completely unguarded. His dimples show when he smiles like this. Sui Zhou feels his heart lurch at the sight, but the feeling is old by now. Practiced. Almost comforting. It still hurts, but he thinks maybe someday it will scar over.
"Good morning," Tang Fan says, and there is something about the softness of his voice that makes Sui Zhou think they are sharing secrets.
He lays down on his side so he can face Tang Fan across the short expanse of the pillow. "Good morning," he returns. Perhaps the maids are listening at the door. Why else would they be speaking in whispers?
He waits for Tang Fan to explain what had happened after he'd been taken captive; it's normally Tang Fan's favorite part of a case, filling in the gaps and showing off his knowledge. But for now, Tang Fan seems content to just lay there, gaze tracking over Sui Zhou's face like he can't believe he's real.
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Fine," Sui Zhou says. "The pain isn't too bad."
"That's good." Tang Fan's hand reaches across the bedclothes and comes to rest beside Sui Zhou's so that their fingertips are nearly touching.
Sui Zhou itches to know why they are laying together like this, to know what is going on. "Is Li Zilong in custody?"
"Hm? Oh, yes." Tang Fan makes it sound like it's an afterthought. "Thank you for making it so easy. He was in no state to escape when we found him. Jia Kui is bringing him back to the capital right now with a full escort from the Western Depot. Wang Zhi will want to question him." He stretches languidly, then falls back into a boneless heap. His little finger is now touching Sui Zhou's on the bed.
"And Ma Lin? Did he reveal the rest of the conspirators?'
"Better," Tang Fan yawns. "He handed over records proving their involvement. I've asked the emperor to be lenient toward him; he's going to be very useful, I think. Li Zilong had a lot of pots boiling. Ma Lin may lead us to uncover more than one." His little finger makes a petting motion across Sui Zhou's skin, a small touch that could be accidental. "A very satisfactory conclusion to this case."
Sui Zhou frowns. This is all good news but— "Then why are we still pretending?" he asks.
Tang Fan goes very still. His little finger stops moving. "Pretending?"
"The case is solved. Our ruse worked." It's still early in the morning, and Tang Fan's mind is always slower in the mornings, so Sui Zhou isn't surprised he must spell it out for him. "Do we still need to convince Ma Lin you're a cutsleeve for some reason?"
Tang Fan's gaze fastens to a spot between them on the mattress. His lips part like he wants to say something but cannot find the words. His eyes finally lift to meet Sui Zhou's but they are helpless and contain no answers.
Sui Zhou presses, "We must, if you brought me here to rest in your room instead of my own. And when you kissed me at the warehouse—was Ma Lin there for that?" He hadn't noticed him, but then again, there had been a lot of commotion.
Tang Fan still seems unable to speak.
Sui Zhou nods to himself. He doesn't need Tang Fan to lay it all out for him, not this time. "I see. If there are other contacts to be investigated, our cover would need to be intact. The disgruntled magistrate, his servant-lover. Makes sense." He looks blandly over to Tang Fan. "Why would you come for me otherwise?"
Tang Fan jolts like he's been struck across the face. "What do you mean?" he says in a whisper. "You were—" He stops and bites his lip, gaze dropping between them.
"I was bait, and Li Zilong thought you would be foolish enough to take it. But I guess you had to make a scene for Ma Lin." Sui Zhou watches him, curious about his strange reaction to the bare facts of the case. "Tang Fan? Is something wrong?"
"No. Nothing." Tang Fan sits up and climbs off the bed, reaching for his boots and shoving them onto his feet in a rush. "You're right, of course. I thought it best to preserve our cover story, just in case—ah, just in case." He grabs the other cup of tea on the side table and downs it in one gulp, grimacing at the taste. "Hopefully it won't be necessary," he says, staring down at the empty cup in his hands. "I know you're eager to...stop pretending."
Sui Zhou nods absent-mindedly. There is a part of him that will mourn the loss of Tang Fan's little touches and coy glances, his outrageous flirting and shameless kisses, but that part only wants to believe this is real.
It's the same part of him that's telling him something's not right. Tang Fan's breathing seems erratic, like he can't get enough air. And he's not meeting Sui Zhou's eyes.
"Tang Fan—" he begins, but Tang Fan puts down the cup and bustles toward the door without a backward glance.
"I should let you rest," he says, and all but flees from the room.
The harsh thud of the door makes Sui Zhou flinch. There is a silence in the room now that unnerves him. He realizes why: he is listening for Tang Fan's footsteps leading away from the bedroom, and he hears nothing.
Sui Zhou cannot stay in this plush bed. He throws off the bedclothes and struggles to his feet. His leg is stiff, unwieldy with bandages under his trousers, but he forces it into action.
The bedroom door opens onto a long hallway, and Sui Zhou sees Tang Fan only a few paces away, one hand leaning heavily on a decorative chest of drawers, the other covering his face. At the sound of the door, he turns, hand falling from his eyes, and stares at Sui Zhou with the look of a frightened rabbit.
There are tears in his eyes. Sui Zhou has never seen him look so miserable.
"What—?" He hurries forward, but Tang Fan just wipes at his face with his sleeve and dredges up a rueful smile.
"Guangchuan, go back to bed," he says. "You shouldn't be running around." He tries to turn away again, but Sui Zhou stops him, holding him by his forearm. It feels so slim under his grip, and seems to tremble under his fingers.
"You're crying," Sui Zhou says. It sounds like such a pointless observation.
Tang Fan shakes his head. "No, I'm just—I must be exhausted. Haven't you ever been so tired you could weep?" His voice breaks somewhere in his sentence and a fresh string of tears falls.
Sui Zhou knows his hand could tighten on Tang Fan's arm to the point of bruising, so he is very careful to keep his grip slack. "Tell me what's wrong."
"I can't," Tang Fan says. He sounds as close to begging as Sui Zhou has ever heard.
Tang Fan should never sound like that. It makes Sui Zhou feel helpless.
"Why not?" he demands.
Tang Fan looks away. Another tear slips down his face. "If I tell you," he says, "you'll want nothing to do with me."
Sui Zhou can't help the incredulous look that crosses his face. He tugs Tang Fan closer, his hand slipping down his arm to grasp his wrist. "Are you taking bribes?" he says in a quiet voice.
Tang Fan blinks, a tear dripping from his lashes. "What? No."
"Are you involved in the conspiracy against the Ming?"
"Of course not."
"Then there is nothing you can say that would make me leave your side." The words fall from Sui Zhou's mouth before he can claw them back. He'd meant to say less—keep more to himself. But the words are true, and Tang Fan needs to hear them, so he can't regret it that much.
Tang Fan freezes again. His pulse is thudding in his wrist, and it feels like Sui Zhou is holding a fluttering bird in his cupped hands. A few nights ago, Tang-daren had sat across the dinner table from a cold-blooded villain and hadn't batted an eyelid. Now he is so scared, and Sui Zhou does not understand what he's done to inspire such fear in him.
"Come on," he says, and puts a hand to the small of Tang Fan's back to lead him back toward the bedroom. "Let's talk in private. The maids—"
"I sent them away," Tang Fan says, miserable. "They're gone. It's just us and Dong'er now." He swipes a sleeve across his damp face.
Sui Zhou considers this. If there are no spying maids, why bring him to the lavish bedroom? Why would Tang Fan feign staying at his bedside when there was no one to report on his movements?
It doesn't matter. Tang Fan is upset; that's what he needs to focus on. "Come inside anyway." He herds Tang Fan to sit on the edge of the bed and closes the door. He takes a seat gingerly next to Tang Fan, not to close. He doesn't want to crowd him; he already looks ready to bolt at any moment. "Tang Fan," he says, "please talk to me."
Tang Fan clutches his hands together in his lap, fingers threading together like they can't bear to be still. He says nothing.
Sui Zhou swallows. "I told you about my nightmares." It seems petty to bring that up, as if Tang Fan owes him anything in exchange for that show of weakness, but Sui Zhou is not above such things. Not when Tang Fan looks as wretched as he does now.
"Promise me you won't be angry," Tang Fan says, and Sui Zhou remembers that moment—was it only a few days ago?—when Tang Fan had said the same thing right before kissing him for the first time.
"I promise," he says.
Tang Fan looks like he might be ill, and he doesn't meet Sui Zhou's eyes, but he sits there on the bed and says in a voice that only shakes a little, "I didn't know we were still pretending."
Wait. "What?" Sui Zhou's brow furrows.
"Two nights ago, right before Li Zilong's men captured you—you kissed me," Tang Fan says in a rush. He stops and waits for Sui Zhou to respond.
Sui Zhou frowns. "Yes, so they would think I was distracted. So I would still have the element of surprise."
A little moan leaves Tang Fan's throat. He covers his face with his hands and props his elbows on his gaunt knees. "I thought—maybe—it felt like you. Meant it. Like you wanted to say goodbye in case something happened to you, and then it did; I got that awful letter and I knew I couldn't just—" He lets his hands fall away. New tears drip down his chin. "I couldn't let him hurt you."
Sui Zhou knows, on some level, what Tang Fan is saying. He understands the words individually, but together, as a whole—it may as well be an ancient language from some dead people.
His silence must make Tang Fan panic. He blurts out, "I shouldn't have assumed. That was stupid of me. Of course you didn't mean it. I just wanted so badly to—" He clamps his lips shut and shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. I suppose I just didn't want to stop pretending. I'm sorry, Guangchuan. I know you hated every moment of it."
The world tilts. Sui Zhou isn't sure which way is up and which is down. Nothing makes sense if Tang Fan is saying these things to him. Is he dead? Is he dreaming? What is real if this is happening?
Tang Fan stands abruptly, making the bed shake. Sui Zhou stares up at him wildly, taking in his sleep-tousled hair and wet cheeks. He's so beautiful, Sui Zhou cannot breathe.
"Let's not mention it again," Tang Fan says, forcing some cheer into his voice. "You need to rest. Heal. Once you're well, we can leave Yunhe and go—" He gives a little sob. "Guangchuan, if I swear to never bring this up again, can I still come home with you?"
Sui Zhou is on his feet without a thought to the aches and pains in his body. His leg will have to wait. He puts a hand to Tang Fan's shoulder and turns him so he can see his face. He's crying still, and Sui Zhou cannot let that stand. Not when—not when he's just starting to believe this might be real.
"Tang Fan," he says, and folds him in his arms. Tang Fan goes limp against his chest, his hands curled into fists on Sui Zhou's breastbone. Sui Zhou presses his cheek to Tang Fan's temple and closes his eyes. "We go home together," he says into Tang Fan's hair. "Otherwise it's not home."
Tang Fan goes rigid against him. "You can't say things like that. Please, it sounds too much like…." His voice peters out, but Sui Zhou knows exactly what he means to say.
He knows because he's lived with the same hopeless wanting for so long, and to see it now reflected in Tang Fan, it feels like meeting an old friend. What a pair of fools we are, he realizes. What a pair.
Sui Zhou pulls away just enough to cup Tang Fan's warm, wet face in his hands and kiss him. He kisses him the way he should have when they were just pretending. He kisses him with all the pent-up feeling in his heart and hopes Tang Fan understands.
"All right?" he says against Tang Fan's open, panting mouth when they part.
Tang Fan's eyes are the size of carriage wheels. He looks as shocked as Sui Zhou himself felt just moments ago. A hysterical laugh bubbles up from his throat. He looks at Sui Zhou, his gaze darting across his eyes, his mouth, his entire face as if looking for the truth. There is a light in his eyes, the same dancing light that flickers to life when he's solving a tricky case.
He puts his hand on Sui Zhou's chest, over the bandages, light as an inkbrush on paper. "Do you mean it, Guangchuan? Honestly?"
Sui Zhou puts a hand to the back of his head and brings him into another kiss. This one is more determined, more solid. He licks into Tang Fan's mouth and swallows his startled gasp, and then he tastes the flavor of his happy whimpers. He pulls away to press a kiss to Tang Fan's ear, saying into the hot shell of it, "I love you, Runqing. Do you love me?"
"Oh," Tang Fan says, and he sounds so dazed, so unlike himself. Love has turned this brilliant creature into something stupid, and Sui Zhou loves that too. "Yes. For a long time. And now. Especially now." He smiles, that wide, unguarded smile, beautiful even with the tears lingering at the corners of his eyes.
"A long time?" Sui Zhou whispers. How long had they been in love with each other without knowing it? How much time had they wasted?
Tang Fan dips his head in acknowledgement. "A very long time." He glows as he says it.
Sui Zhou cannot wait to have him. His hands go to the belt at Tang Fan's trim waist. "Let me?" he asks.
Tang Fan has no objections; he can't seem to say anything coherent at all. He fumbles at the latch of his belt, tries to help Sui Zhou divest him of outer robes. "Are we really—?" he tries to say. "It's just, you're injured." His gaze flicks over the bandages that are wound around Sui Zhou's chest and torso, and his left arm. "We should wait until you're healed." But even as he's saying it, Tang Fan is pressing closer to Sui Zhou, molding himself against the line of his body, hot even through his layer of inner clothes.
"I don't want to wait," Sui Zhou says, and bites at the hinge of his jaw, just a flash of teeth that make Tang Fan suck in a breath. "Do you?"
"No." It comes out as a long whine. It makes Sui Zhou smile against Tang Fan's neck.
Then he sees the bruises there. They've softened into a dull violet ringed with yellow. There is something about the sight of those marks that makes his skin feel too small. He still hates that he'd hurt Tang Fan, however inadvertently, but he also feels a surge of possessive righteousness at the sight. Yes, why shouldn't there be some sign of him on Tang Fan's body? Some proof that he had been there? He knows it's wrong, but he can't help how he feels.
He should just focus on Tang Fan; that's what matters now. He guides him onto the bed, but Tang Fan has other ideas. He coaxes Sui Zhou down to the warm bedsheets so that he's laid out flat on his back.
"You shouldn't exert yourself too much," he says firmly, some of that bossiness returning. "There will be plenty of time for you to do that later, when you've healed and we're home." He colors prettily at the mention of it. "For now, why don't you just let me take care of you?"
Sui Zhou's heart folds in on itself, a letter creased before sending. He thinks of the choicest piece of lamb being placed in his bowl by green jade chopsticks. Of his cup being filled before any others. And he wonders, though he doesn't dare hope—
"You'd do that?" he asks through the lump in his throat. "You'd want to?"
Tang Fan gives a shrug. "I've always wanted to care for Guangchuan, though I may not always know exactly how best to do it. I think, right now—maybe this?" He strips off his remaining clothes, not even giving Sui Zhou time to rake his eyes over all the newly bared skin before he places himself gracefully in Sui Zhou's lap, his thighs bracketing Sui Zhou's hips.
Sui Zhou's eyebrows rise upward. Tang Fan is not nearly as shy as he'd imagined, but he's not complaining. His hands reach for him of their own accord, resting on his sharp knees.
"You look good there," he says. Tang Fan flushes with the praise. He's thin, and long—mostly leg. His cock is half-risen, its dusky head leaking a single pearl of fluid from its slit. His skin is dotted with beauty marks here and there but not a single scar that Sui Zhou can see. He's never known such a flawless expanse of skin could exist. His fingers flex on Tang Fan's knees. He's hard in his trousers, the thick line of it pressing up between Tang Fan's legs.
Tang Fan rocks back and forth against it, testing, listening to Sui Zhou's answering groan. His face falls into the same expression he wears when he's collecting clues. "I could ride you," he offers, "if you like."
If? Sui Zhou chokes on a laugh. "And here I thought you were a chaste little thing."
Tang Fan blushes again, this time in rare embarrassment. "No, I'm not a complete innocent. But I haven't ever—" He looks away like he couldn't possibly say.
Sui Zhou kneads at his thighs, feeling the tense, lean muscles there. "What?" he asks, only because he thinks it might be nice to explore something new with Tang Fan if he wants to try that. Some position, he thinks, or a different role. Sui Zhou isn't picky, not when it comes to him.
Tang Fan looks down at him then, his hair falling dark over his bare shoulders. "I haven't ever felt like this before," he says, quiet. He covers his face with one hand, only the edge of a rueful smile peeking through his fingers. "Ah, is that a silly thing to say?"
Sui Zhou's heart splays wide. He stretches just enough to tug Tang Fan's arm down so he can see his face. "It's the same with me," he says. "It's exactly the same."
Tang Fan smiles wide again, his eyes crinkling with happiness, and Sui Zhou cannot allow him to remain so far away. He reaches for Tang Fan's face, and Tang Fan leans down so that he doesn't have to move so much, and they share a kiss that doesn't seem possible. It's too perfect to be real. Sui Zhou's whole body lights up with it. He's starting to believe that this is real and that maybe he is allowed to have it.
Tang Fan leans across Sui Zhou to reach the bedside table. There is a little drawer, and from it Tang Fan removes a small earthenware pot stoppered with a cloth plug. Sui Zhou tosses him a questioning look, and Tang Fan smiles.
"I was—well, I was very optimistic about what would happen when you awoke." He opens the little pot and dips two fingers in. They come out glistening in oil. "Though I wasn't too far off, in the end."
Sui Zhou offers to handle this part for Tang Fan, but Tang Fan waves him off, his oiled hand disappearing behind himself. He hands the little pot to Sui Zhou as he works himself up and down on his own fingers. A flush climbs up his chest to his neck, his mouth open in a soundless cry. "Supposed to—lie back," Tang Fan pants as he opens himself up. "Let me do the work."
Sui Zhou is accustomed to being useful. He reaches for the ties that keep his trousers around his hips. The least he can do is join Tang Fan in being naked.
But Tang Fan makes an impatient whine at the movement. "Let me," he says, and with the hand that isn't being used to fuck himself, he unties the string at Sui Zhou's waist and shoves the thin cloth down just enough. Sui Zhou's cock springs into his hand; its eagerness makes Tang Fan laugh.
"You're gorgeous," he murmurs. His thin fingers play over Sui Zhou's length. "Thick and strong. It suits you."
Sui Zhou tosses his head back against the pillow. Just the simple touch of Tang Fan's hand is enough to send sparks down his spine. How is he supposed to be inside of him for more than an eyeblink before spilling? His self-control, which means so much, is being picked apart seam by seam.
"Here, let me." Tang Fan takes the little jar of oil from his slack hand and pours a stream of it over Sui Zhou's twitching cock. He slips his fingers free from his body and pumps both hands up and down the shaft, massaging the oil into Sui Zhou's skin. It feels like fucking a silken tunnel. Sui Zhou arches into it, but Tang Fan puts one slick hand on his belly and holds him still.
"Don't thrash," he says. "You'll hurt yourself."
"I'll just lay here completely motionless then," Sui Zhou breathes out in frustration. "Easy."
"Not completely." Tang Fan sets the oil pot on the bedside table with a click. "Just mostly." Then he's lifting his hips and holding Sui Zhou's cock upright so that the head is flush with his tight, wet hole, and he's sliding slowly onto it, and neither of them can say anything.
Both of their mouths fall open at the sensation. Tang Fan's body is like a furnace, and it's all Sui Zhou can do to grip his narrow hips and hold him tight. He wants to thrust up, but he doesn't want Tang Fan to stop and chide him again, and he doesn't want to give Tang Fan more than he can handle. He realizes his fingers are pressing too hard into Tang Fan's pale skin; he's going to leave bruises if he's not careful. His hands spasm as he lets go, fisting them instead on the mattress at his sides.
"No, don't." Tang Fan picks up his hands and puts them right back where they were. "Don't stop touching me."
Sui Zhou looks up at him, speechless. Tang Fan looks more wanton than any of Sui Zhou's filthiest fantasies. He's impaled halfway on Sui Zhou's cock, his hair tossed over one shoulder. As Sui Zhou watches, Tang Fan lifts a hand to his chest and pinches desperately at his right nipple, rolling the little bud of flesh between his fingers. He stares at Sui Zhou as he does it, his mouth hanging open.
"Does it feel good, Guangchuan?" he asks.
Sui Zhou's thumbs circle the points of his hips, digging in a little as Tang Fan sinks onto his cock, then rises. "Yes," he hisses.
Tang Fan's hand crosses his heaving chest in search of his other pert nipple, and that one too gets plucked. Sui Zhou can see how much pleasure it brings him, and he wants to bring Tang Fan pleasure too. His hands leave Tang Fan's hips and stray up his belly to toy with his hard, brown nipples. The effect is instantaneous. Tang Fan's spine curves like a longbow and he cries out. He says Sui Zhou's name in that voice that sounds so wrecked, it's barely more than a whine.
"Guangchuan, oh, Guangchuan, what are you doing to me?" He plants his palms on the mattress on either side of Sui Zhou's chest and leans down over him, closer, hotter. The portion of his hair that hangs loose falls around them like a curtain. Sui Zhou's hips find the rhythm of Tang Fan's movements. Tang Fan's cock, red and neglected, bounces between them. Sui Zhou wants to wrap his hand around it and feel Tang Fan come apart around him. He wants to see him, hear him when that pleasure overtakes him.
But before he can, Tang Fan grabs his hands in both of his and holds them against his breastbone.
"Will you do something for me?" he asks. He lifts Sui Zhou's hands over the notch between his collarbones, to the base of his throat. He swallows as he guides their joined fingers around his throat.
Sui Zhou's hips stop thrusting. His veins go cold with ice. "Tang Fan—" he says in alarm.
"Please?" Tang Fan keeps working himself up and down Sui Zhou's cock, nearly sobbing with it. "Just a little? I can't stop thinking about how it felt."
This isn't something Sui Zhou can do. Except that he has. But he didn't want to—doesn't want to hurt Tang Fan. The thing inside him that is its own army, he can't let that touch something as beautiful as this.
Some of his anguish must be clear in his eyes, because Tang Fan slows his movements and peels his nerveless hands away. "You won't hurt me," he says. "I trust you." He clasps their knot of hands over his heart. "We're awake and we're here together. Just the two of us. Could you try? And if you hate it, we can do something else."
There is something in Sui Zhou that wants things, things he shouldn't ever have. He wonders if this is one of them. His fingertips brush against the smooth, perfect skin of Tang Fan's chest. The choicest, most tender piece of flesh.
"I'm not going to squeeze," he says when he finds his voice. "I'll just touch—where you want me to."
Tang Fan's eyes light up. His entire body flutters around Sui Zhou's cock, giving its own squeeze. "That's perfect, that's all I want. Here." He puts Sui Zhou's hands around his neck again. His pulse is a thundering beat. "Just hold me."
It feels like Tang Fan has asked him to hold a sword to his throat. It feels like he's asked Sui Zhou to dab poison on his lips. It feels wrong to be doing this, but it's also—not as frightening as he thought it would be, once they're doing it. His hands fit snugly around Tang Fan's throat, his thumbs nudging into the soft flesh beneath his chin. He can feel every swallow, every gulp of air Tang Fan takes. He is not hurting anyone, and Tang Fan is awash in pleasure. His eyes are glazed but filled with adoration as he stares down at Sui Zhou. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and then remains there in plain sight, like it's too much of a burden to tuck it back into that hot mouth.
"Talk to me," Sui Zhou says as Tang Fan's hips speed up again. If Tang Fan is talking, then he'll know he's all right, that he can breathe.
"Aiya, what should I say?" Tang Fan gasps out. Each word is a thready whine under Sui Zhou's hands.
"Tell me you want this." It's his voice, but it sounds so deep and dark, he barely recognizes it.
"I want it," Tang Fan pants. His hands grapple along Sui Zhou's body, fisting in the loose fabric of the trousers that have fallen to his thighs, clutching at Sui Zhou's ribs. Seeking leverage, Sui Zhou realizes.
He can help with that. He shifts his hips beneath Tang Fan, groaning as he thrusts even deeper into him. Tang Fan's hands fly to his wrists, not pulling his hands away from his throat, but clinging there to keep Sui Zhou in place. Sui Zhou understands what he needs completely. He holds Tang Fan firmly by the neck as he pounds up into him at a punishing pace, marveling at the slutty sounds that pour from Tang Fan's mouth. Little cries, pleas for more, sweet words of longing—they are beautiful sounds, but they are not the one Sui Zhou wants to hear most of all.
He ignores the twinge in his ribs as he sits up, bringing his eyes level with Tang Fan's. They stare at each other while Tang Fan whimpers and begs. "Guangchuan, please, don't stop, don't ever stop."
He decides to ask for something, a thing just for him. "Call me husband," he says.
The reaction is immediate. Tang Fan tightens on Sui Zhou's cock, a low moan spilling from his mouth. "Guangchuan-lang, yes, you're always so good to me, you hold me so tight, you give me just what I need, Guangchuan-lang, my loving husband—!"
That is the end for them both. Sui Zhou tears his hands away from Tang Fan's throat and instead wraps an arm around his waist, crushing them together. Tang Fan squirms on Sui Zhou's lap and laces his own arms around his neck. Sui Zhou's free hand works its way between their bellies and wraps around Tang Fan's cock, milking it as it spills freely. Sui Zhou gives one final thrust deep into Tang Fan and holds there as he comes. Each pulse sends a shiver through Tang Fan, who gasps in time with each loaded beat.
Sweaty relief follows. Nuzzling into each other's hair, their shoulders. Sui Zhou isn't sure if he'll ever breathe normally again. His lungs seem to have broken.
"You were supposed to lay back and do nothing." Tang Fan is so clearly pouting though his face is hidden from view, and it makes Sui Zhou bark a laugh. "Are you in any pain?"
"It isn't going to kill me," he says. He takes Tang Fan by the chin and guides him so they can face each other again. "And you? Let me see."
Tang Fan presents his throat like a sheep with no sense. "If you left any new marks, it's not your fault. I told you, I bruise easily."
Sui Zhou turns his head this way and that but only sees a little redness on Tang Fan's skin, nothing more than the flush that he gets when pleased. "Nothing," he says, and notices that Tang Fan pouts at that too. He lifts off Sui Zhou's softening cock and stretches out beside him.
"When will my lao gong give me some new love bites?" he sighs. He palms the side of his neck where the old bruises are painted in purple and gold. "These strawberries he planted are already fading away."
"He will give you more after you rest for a while," Sui Zhou says. His heart is buzzing with what they've done and what they are to each other now. "You need some sleep."
"And later, breakfast?" Tang Fan wheedles.
Sui Zhou knows they should wash off the spend and the sweat, but he can't bring himself to leave this bed, not when Tang Fan is curling up beside him with his head on his shoulder, soft and open and his.
"I don't know what we have left in the kitchen," Sui Zhou says. He puts an arm around Tang Fan to keep him close. For once, he isn't worried about his nightmares while sharing a bed. He can feel his eyelids going heavy, that bone-deep exhaustion that means his mind won't have the energy to torment him.
"You can make me boiled eggs," Tang Fan says sleepily, his mouth stretching on a yawn. He burrows deeper against Sui Zhou's shoulder. "Those are good for bruises."
"That's not how—" Sui Zhou starts, but then stops explaining when he realizes Tang Fan is already asleep, snoring lightly.
Sui Zhou follows, as he always does.
Five days later, they depart for the capital. Duo'erla and Wuyun see them off, and though Tang Fan is sad to leave his friends in Yunhe, they promise to visit and give him boxes packed with cold food for the trip. It's a relaxed journey with the old pair of cart-horses plodding along at an easy pace. Sui Zhou and Tang Fan ride side by side up front. Dong'er climbs atop their baggage to nap for the first part of the trip, grumbling about their early start. When she wakes, she walks on foot beside the cart so she can pluck flowers or investigate an animal burrow. Sui Zhou keeps an eye on her while holding the reins in one hand. The weather is excellent, clear and sunny with a cool breeze. There is not a hint of rain in the sky. Tang Fan's hand finds his free one and squeezes briefly. They share a look, and Sui Zhou tries to engrave the memory of this moment on his heart so he will not forget this feeling. There are not many perfect days to be had, even in a long life, and he knows this is one of them.
"Sui-dage!" Dong'er calls from up ahead where the road forks. She points uphill at the right hand path. It's narrow, less traveled and more overgrown with weeds. "Can we go this way? There's a lookout point ahead."
Sui Zhou can't help the smile that comes to his lips. "Did you memorize the entire map of the area before we left Yunhe?" he calls back.
"Don't be silly; I memorized it ages ago, before we left home." Dong'er puts on her most pleading look as the cart horses approach her and the fork. "Please? It's supposed to be very beautiful. I'd like to see it."
Tang Fan leans over the cart traces to nudge Sui Zhou's shoulder with his own. "It won't make much difference if we take a little detour. We'll get home this evening instead of this afternoon."
"You're not in any rush?" Sui Zhou keeps his voice bland, but his gaze catches Tang Fan's with a heated promise. Before they left Yunhe, they had agreed they would fall into Sui Zhou's bed the moment they arrived home and not leave it for an entire day.
Tang Fan's cheeks take on a pretty blush. He turns his head, and Sui Zhou can see the fresh red love bites he'd left on Tang Fan's neck just that morning. "Oh, I am eager to get back," he says, "but look." He tips his chin at Dong'er, who is still watching their approach with huge, begging eyes. "Our daughter asks for so little." A complete lie; Dong'er asks very specifically for her favorite foods and candies and new hair ribbons and ink and whatever else she wants whenever she pleases. "Can't we indulge her? Just this once?"
Sui Zhou has always thought himself hardened by life, but it's moments like these that prove how soft he's been made. "Why not?" he murmurs, and turns the horses onto the right path.
Dong'er cheers loudly and hops up onto the back of the cart. "Thank you, Sui-dage!" She clambors over the assorted trunks and baggage to hug him, her little arms wrapping around his neck. "You're the best."
"Excuse me!" Tang Fan puts on his mock-offended tone. "I am the one who argued your case successfully, Dong'er. You should be thanking me."
Dong'er dutifully bounces over to the other side of the cart to embrace Tang Fan the same way. She whispers, but Sui Zhou hears her anyway: "And thank you for making Sui-dage so much happier. I thought I was going to have to explain some very basic facts to him."
Sui Zhou smiles at the back of the horses' heads and tries not to laugh.
They reach the lookout point just before midday. It's beautiful, just as Dong'er said it would be. Sui Zhou tethers the horses and gives them water before joining Tang Fan and Dong'er near the cliff's edge. From here they can see the entire valley spreading out below them. The river sparkles like a long string of jewels in the sun. Villages appear as tiny clusters of brown and white with wisps of smoke rising from a few cooking fires.
Sui Zhou takes it all in, feeling like he's somehow seeing the whole world at once, and feeling very fortunate. His chest expands with an unnameable emotion. He thinks about it for a moment and decides another man might know it as peace.
Dong'er slips her hand into his. "Can I get a little closer?" she asks.
"Just a bit. Don't let go of my hand," Sui Zhou says, and walks with her until they're a few paces away from the very edge of the cliff.
Tang Fan joins them, wrapping an arm around Sui Zhou's waist and leaning his head against his shoulder. He sighs in contentment. "What a view."
Sui Zhou turns his face to kiss Tang Fan's temple. He gives Dong'er hand a quick press to let her know he's still there. They are in no rush to get back to the capital, he remembers.
He's already home.