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Zhuzhi-lang is unable to sleep.
He’s tired—exhausted even—but slumber evades him, slipping between his cold fingers and coiling just out of reach. It’s probably the weather, he thinks as an involuntary shiver makes his jaw clench. One season is in the process of sliding to the next. The night air carries a chill that will only continue to grow as the sun rises and sets over the following days.
Zhuzhi-lang does not flourish in low temperatures. It hasn’t been a problem since Tianlang-jun kindly commissioned someone to make a small kang bed for his room, but tonight he sleeps under the stars. Far from the palace he is grateful to call home.
He shifts onto his side, repressing the urge to curl his knees up against his chest. He doesn’t wish to look silly when his lord awakens. Tianlang-jun is fast asleep, using his outer robe as a makeshift blanket and one of the many books he’d purchased earlier as a pillow. Said books are the reason they are unable to afford an inn for the night.
Zhuzhi-lang quietly exhales. His lord has always been willful. But it’s fine. He can manage until morning.
“Nephew.”
Zhuzhi-lang doesn’t startle but it’s a near thing.
“Why are you awake?” Tianlang-jun’s voice is low and gravelly with sleep. He peeks one shining eye open to squint at Zhuzhi-lang in the darkness.
“This subordinate could ask Junshang the same question.”
“Oh. Yes, I suppose you could.”
“...”
“I have a song stuck in my head. The one that young lady was singing as we passed the tavern.” He hums a couple of bars before clicking his tongue. “Ah, I’m off-key. But you get the idea. Now you.”
Zhuzhi-lang blinks. “Me?”
“Your reason for being awake. It’s quite late. You’re a growing boy, sleep is important.”
Zhuzhi-lang has been the same height since Tianlang-jun gifted him a human body all those years ago but he refrains from outwardly contradicting his lord’s words.
“Junshang need not bother himself with this subordinate’s trivial woes.” His shoulders go taut as he holds back another shiver. “Please return to your attempt at rest.”
Tianlang-jun simply looks at him.
Zhuzhi-lang grows bashful the longer he remains the subject of Tianlang-jun’s undivided attention. His hands clench into fists within his long sleeves. “Does…Junshang require something from this subordinate?”
Tianlang-jun’s eyes widen minutely, as if an idea has just occurred to him. “Yes! Take this off my hands, will you?”
In one easy motion, he removes the robe he’s been using as cover and tosses it over. Zhuzhi-lang catches it; the fabric is soft beneath his fingers. And warm. He holds it to his chest with hesitance, unclear of what exactly he is meant to do with it.
“I was too hot under there, practically melting,” Tianlang-jun explains flippantly. He adjusts his literary pillow and turns his back, settling onto his side. “Good night.”
“Junshang…”
“Hush,” Tianlang-jun murmurs. “I’m sleeping.”
Zhuzhi-lang presses his lips together in an effort to stave off an emotion he cannot parse. One that dampens his eyes and softens his heart. He pauses for the briefest of moments before carefully draping the robe over his own shoulders, tucking himself beneath it. He’s still cold but the added fabric does help keep out the worst of the chill.
“Thank you,” Zhuzhi-lang whispers, just in case his lord truly has fallen asleep so quickly.
Tianlang-jun makes an exaggerated snoring noise. It’s more like a sound effect one might read in a story than anything real. Zhuzhi-lang sighs internally. How silly…
“Junshang doesn’t snore,” he says quietly.
Tianlang-jun is predictably silent, and then: “That’s not what Xiyan told me.”
“Maiden Su was probably teasing you.”
“Ah. Yes, she does that.” Tianlang-jun flips over again to give Zhuzhi-lang a flat look. “Now go to bed before I start teasing you. ”
“!!” Zhuzhi-lang pulls the robe over his head. “Good night, Junshang.”
“Oh, what was that? You want uncle to tell you a bedtime story? I can recite my favorite passage of Jin Ping Mei–”
“No need! This subordinate is already asleep!”
As Zhuzhi-lang burrows deeper into the small section of warmth he has been given, he hears Tianlang-jun let out an amused breath. And Zhuzhi-lang suddenly finds it difficult to discern whether the warmth he feels is from the robe or simply from being at Tianlang-jun’s side.
Not that the distinction matters much, he thinks as the languid pull of sleep finally overtakes him.