Chapter Text
Sui Zhou leaves the Yunhe district holding cells with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword and his leather cuirass digging into his chest. It must be the cuirass's improper fit that's causing him such discomfort. There are times lately when it feels as if he can't breathe, and it's only started since their arrival in Yunhe and the ridiculous farce he's been forced to play out.
He can hear Tang Fan behind him, his footfalls rushing to catch up. "Guangchuan, wait," he calls.
Sui Zhou steps over the threshold of the compound without a pause in his stride. "You shouldn't call me that," he reminds Tang Fan, not looking at him as he comes abreast with Sui Zhou. "If someone overhears, they'll wonder why the esteemed Tang-daren is so informal with his butler."
Tang Fan gives a huff. "If they question me, I will tell them I speak to my servants as I please. Now tell me what you meant back there. How is Ma Lin my 'good friend?' You know whatever friendship I show him is all in service to this case. I can't find out who's behind the forgery operation unless he trusts me!"
"Then you are an excellent actor," Sui Zhou says, staring straight ahead as they walk. The road is empty this late in the day, otherwise he wouldn't speak so freely. "You should be very proud of your skills."
Tang Fan bumps his slight shoulder against Sui Zhou's, and Sui Zhou does look at him then, if only to glare in the face of his secret smile. "Jealousy will turn you inside-out, Guangchuan," says Tang Fan in a sing-song sort of voice. "Why are you still playing the abandoned wife?"
Sui Zhou grinds his teeth. He cannot say why he's acting this way because the truth is not something he can repeat outside the safety of his own head: that he loves this man who swanned into his life and turned it upside-down within a matter of weeks. The truth is that he would do anything for Tang Fan; he would even bear the humiliation of pretending to be his servant during this fraught and delicate case.
But he can't gracefully accept that Tang Fan enjoys the company of the older man who is their suspect. Ma Lin has given Tang Fan everything Sui Zhou himself no longer can: financial security, luxuries and fine things, a whole mansion filled with pretty serving girls (no less pretty for their spying), and delicious homemade meals meant for only the two of them to share. This last one rankles the most, for even though their borrowed manor contains an excellent kitchen and Sui Zhou has been making plenty of use of it, Tang Fan is often so busy he has no time to eat the meals Sui Zhou cooks.
Tang Fan has not once expressed his displeasure at this or called it a hardship. It is like he has forgotten the taste of Sui Zhou's cooking, or perhaps found Ma Lin's dishes more to his liking. And as dangerous as their situation is, he seems to genuinely appreciate the old man's companionship. Li Mao as well! Another older, more accomplished man, and with a mind as quick and agile as Tang Fan's. How can Sui Zhou compete? He'd watched Tang Fan bring Li Mao books of poetry in prison, weaving long conversations about philosophy and morality. It makes sense for Tang Fan to be drawn to such powerful, learned men—but must Sui Zhou bear witness to his infatuations? It's not fair.
"Do you think Ma Lin will be convinced of your loyalty after this?" Sui Zhou says, changing the subject.
Tang Fan shrugs. Even this is an elegant gesture when made by his lithe frame. "Ma Lin is a wily old fox; I wouldn't be surprised if he needs yet another reason to believe he and I are both in the same boat."
"Another reason?" Sui Zhou shoots Tang Fan a look. "What more could he need?"
But Tang Fan is busy staring at his own reflection in a pool of water that they pass, humming to himself. Sui Zhou sighs and faces forward again. Whatever Tang Fan is thinking, he will share it when he sees fit.
They return to the manor house and Tang Fan retreats to his study. Sui Zhou considers following him, but he knows from experience that when Tang Fan is in the midst of an investigation, he will ignore all else to concentrate on the problem. Sui Zhou is better off leaving him to his thoughts, so he takes himself back to the kitchens. Ma Lin's largesse extends to the pantry, and there are many expensive, quality ingredients that Sui Zhou can put to use. He begins making a sweet dough without thinking too much about his actions. Dong'er will eat the cakes, even if Tang Fan has no time or inclination to try them.
One of the pretty maids shuffles in just after he's finished bringing the dough together in a fat ball. Her eyes dart around the kitchen before landing on Sui Zhou. If she is confused as to why a butler would also play the role of personal chef, she does not show it. She merely gives him a polite nod in greeting and says, "Tang-daren wants you in the west sitting room."
Does he? Sui Zhou nearly spits out the question. He drapes a clean cloth over the dough and unties the apron from his waist with a jerk. Tang Fan could have sought him out himself; there is no need to send one of the spy-girls into his kitchen. Of course, Tang-daren has an image to maintain. Sui Zhou seethes silently as he makes his way through the house.
He enters the sitting room to find Tang Fan in a chair, perched on the very edge of the seat. His fingers drum an impatient rhythm on his thighs. A tea set is laid out before him, his cup only half full. He springs to his feet at Sui Zhou's approach, his eyes a little wide, his face a little flushed.
"Oh. Good. You're here," he says easily, but his entire demeanor is at odds with his words.
Sui Zhou gives him an appraising look. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, nothing's wrong." Tang Fan stands straighter. He takes a deep breath, staring at the highly polished floor as he does so. When he looks back up, there's a smile on his face. "Come over here for a moment, won't you?" he says, and extends his hand, fingertips downward, beckoning Sui Zhou to him.
Sui Zhou rolls his eyes. He wants to remind Tang Fan that he is not a dog nor a child; he's not even a butler, not really, and when they're alone like this there's no need to treat Sui Zhou like a hired hand. He crosses his arms over his chest but does stride forward until he is standing before Tang Fan.
"What is it?" he asks.
Tang Fan's eyes dart to the doorway. He licks his pink lips nervously. His voice is the barest whisper. "I think this will work," he says, almost to himself. "It has to."
"What are you talking about?" Sui Zhou pitches his voice to a quiet murmur to match Tang Fan's. It's not outside the realm of possibility that they're being watched. All those maids, all of Ma Lin's eyes and ears. It's getting more and more difficult to keep secrets, Sui Zhou thinks with a horrible clench in his chest.
Tang Fan's gaze flits between Sui Zhou's face and the doorway. "Promise me you won't be angry," he says.
Now Sui Zhou is getting concerned. "Angry? About what?"
Light footsteps are coming their way, the soft tap of well-soled slippers against the floor. Tang Fan's eyes widen; his nostrils flare. He looks like a rabbit deciding whether to run from a wolf or stay perfectly still in the tall grass.
Now Sui Zhou's concern is growing into outright worry. "Tang Fan—?"
"I'm sorry," Tang Fan whispers in a rush, and just as the footsteps approach the open doorway, Tang Fan flings himself at Sui Zhou, his arms looping around his neck.
They're kissing. It takes a moment for Sui Zhou to register the action and assign it a name, but there's no mistaking it: Tang Fan's mouth is warm and slick, those recently licked lips pressed firmly against his. Tang Fan melts all of his slight weight into Sui Zhou, and Sui Zhou is forced to grab him around the waist to stop them both from tumbling to the ground. As shocked as he is, Sui Zhou notices that Tang Fan's eyes have slipped closed. It only seems polite to follow suit, so he does.
The kiss deepens somehow. Sui Zhou won't waste his time analyzing who is responsible. All that matters is that their mouths open to each other, and he is tasting Tang Fan and the good local tea he'd just drank, an earthy, warm flavor.
Sui Zhou hears, from the doorway behind him, the sharp hiss of someone inhaling a lungful of air. Tang Fan recoils and stares wide-eyed beyond Sui Zhou's shoulder. His cheeks are burning red.
"Ma Xiong," he chokes out. "I—ah, I didn't know you planned to visit me today."
Sui Zhou's mind races. He turns to see the older man, eyebrows raised in polite surprise, his hands clasped behind his back like he's about to give a lecture. Tang Fan clears his throat meaningfully. Sui Zhou is still holding him, he realizes. He releases his slim waist and lets his arms dangle uselessly at his sides.
Ma Lin inclines his head. "I apologize for interrupting, Tang-daren," he says in slow, measured tones.
"It wasn't—you see, it's—" Tang Fan shoots Sui Zhou a desperate look, one that Sui Zhou imagines might contain an apology. It might even be sincere. Then Tang Fan approaches their unwanted guest, wringing his hands, while Sui Zhou remains frozen on the spot. "This is all very embarrassing. Perhaps I should explain."
"No need, no need." Ma Lin holds up his palms. "It is my fault for entering unannounced. The maid directed me to come inside; I shouldn't have listened to her."
"No, it's no fault of yours," Tang Fan insists. His voice is getting faster. "You have been nothing but kind to me since I arrived in Yunhe, Ma Xiong, and I'd hate for you to think I was some kind of—" He shoots a glance back at Sui Zhou over his shoulder. Sui Zhou can't even begin to parse its meaning. "Well, I am a cutsleeve," he tells Ma Lin, miserable, his eyes downcast. "I won't try to deny that. Not to you, my trusted friend. Ah, I'm so sorry!" He moves as if to bow low.
"It's all right, Tang-daren," Ma Lin says. He darts forward and takes Tang Fan by the arms, pulling him upright. There is a gentle, avuncular sort of smile on his face. Sui Zhou wants to wipe it off with his fists. "Yunhe may not be as cosmopolitan as the capital, but we are not some backwater little village. We don't frown upon such things here."
"No," Tang Fan says, his voice strained, "but surely you understand how my reputation would be in tatters if it became known that I've been—" He shoots a look at Sui Zhou, who isn't sure what to do, and so does nothing. "Intimate with a—a servant," he finishes in a hushed whisper.
Sui Zhou's mind starts to catch up with his racing heart. Of course, of course Tang Fan would dream up the most horrible, humiliating plan of action to endear himself to Ma Lin. Of course the kiss was all for show. Sui Zhou keeps his eyes on the ground as a chastised servant might. His face is going hot with anger, his fists clenching at his sides. He wants to break every beautiful piece of porcelain in the room, rip apart every gorgeous ink painting. He wants to wreck all the things Ma Lin has bought to fill up this house.
Tang Fan turns back to their guest. "It's not as it seems, please understand that. I'm not taking advantage of my position as his master. Even before he came into my employ, we were—like this." Sui Zhou picks up his head and sees Tang Fan bite his lip. "But then he was discovered with...forbidden books—" The way he says it makes clear that the books were of the cutsleeve variety. "—and lost his rank in the Imperial Guard. I had to find a way to keep him by my side, something that wouldn't raise eyebrows, so I brought him with me to Yunhe in the capacity of my butler." Tears spring to Tang Fan's expressive eyes. Distantly, Sui Zhou wonders at his hidden talent for pageantry. "He is not here under duress, I promise you. I'm not one of those horrible masters taking advantage. Tell him, Guangchuan."
He throws a beseeching look at Sui Zhou, who can only manage a faint nod in response. "It is as he says," he mutters. What else can he say?
"A very sad string of events," Ma Lin says, "yet you have done nothing wrong."
"But it won't appear so to outsiders! If word of this reached the capital," Tang Fan continues in a rush, "my career would be over. Someone like Wang Zhi could hold this over my head for the rest of my days!" He worries the yaopei on his belt with nervous fingers.
"Tang-daren, calm yourself," Ma Lin says, patting his arms. "This is your private business. No one else needs to know. I will certainly not tell anyone."
The heartbreaking relief on Tang Fan's face looks convincing. "You are truly a man worthy of my trust, Ma Xiong. There are no words for my gratitude," he says, and bows again. This time, Ma Lin lets him.
"Well." The older man throws Sui Zhou a glance, awkward but not unkind, and continues addressing only Tang Fan. "I had come here to ask if you would do me the honor of dining with me tonight, but of course if you have other plans—"
"Oh! You would still have me as your dinner guest?" Tang Fan rises to gaze at Ma Lin, his huge, beautiful eyes swimming with tears. Sui Zhou shouldn't be so impressed at his theatrics; he's always been a good liar, apparently. "Even after all this?"
"I meant what I said. I do not judge you, Tang-daren. We all have our indulgences; we are all mortal." Ma Lin claps him on the shoulder. He shoots another glance in Sui Zhou's direction. "Of course I would invite your beloved, but I fear it might also invite whispers."
"Correct, as usual." Tang Fan glows. "Then I will accept, of course. What are you cooking for us tonight?"
Ma Lin leads him out of the room, talking through the list of dishes he has planned for their meal. His hand slides from Tang Fan's slight shoulder until it is pressed more or less in the small of his back. Sui Zhou watches this with his pulse roaring in his ears. Just before they step through the doorway, Tang Fan turns and gives Sui Zhou a look that holds a promise that they will discuss this later. Sui Zhou would like to think there was a hint of shame, even, in that look, but he knows that's just wishful thinking. Tang Fan is never ashamed about what he thinks is justified.