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He is sorting through the medicinal rack searching for a particular herb when he hears about ‘The Doctor’.
It wasn’t the first time Baizhu has heard of him. His current patient is a fatui addled with the effects of anesthesia he’d had to administer to relieve him from the pain of stitching a severe wound on his left leg. He talks and talks, well into the night, and Baizhu only hums quietly in reply as he recedes into soft mumblings.
‘He’s a monster, he’ll kill me if I don’t do my job- no probably take my body first, and turn me into a lab rat.’ Among them, others being, ‘A genius in his own right, barely human, never constant, always different-’ this was where he was worried his patient had dropped into a shocked delirium, but, after checking his vitals and fluids, his body is fine. Baizhu chalks it up to mental fatigue, though the way his patient stares at the ceiling for hours on end would tell him otherwise.
Changsheng hisses at him to forget about it, nothing good will ever come from someone who revels in the pain of others to sate their own curiosity.
It takes him a week to finally deem the fatui well enough to leave, medications packed carefully in his hands. The man thanks him again and again, and even though Baizhu has the question sitting on the tip of his tongue he does not let it out, feeling the way Changsheng tightens her hold and hiss lowly at him.
It does not matter. There will be other patients and other chances.
That night he wakes up with a strangled gasp and a choked cough. It rattles his lungs, and he heaves in air again and again but he coughs it out just as much. Changsheng is sleeping so he tries to be quiet as he tastes iron in his throat, and the blood stains his sheets again as he tries not to vomit. His eyes water and he does not need his glasses to see the way his hands tremble, fingers dripped in crimson.
Not for the first time he wonders if he’ll die tomorrow.
He hears a small whimper, at that, and realizes that thought is much more painful than anything he had endured. Changsheng’s voice floats in his mind like a soft lullaby, and he cannot imagine a world without it.
Immortality is such a dangerous, far-off dream.
He wonders if ‘The Doctor’ would have any clue on how to gain it.
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Baizhu is cleaning his glasses by the riverbank when he finds the body.
“Don’t even think about it-” Changsheng hisses at him, but he is already lugging it out of the river from where it’s been floating from.
He’s panting from exertion by the time he tears off the damp, heavy clothes from the body, and he could feel himself go lightheaded when he starts compressions on the man’s chest but there is still a chance to save him, even when he felt no pulse.
“Chang- sheng-” he pants out, and she doesn’t need to ask him what he wants before she closes her eyes and sighs.
It is draining, every time he does it. Even though he has good control of it now, it still leaves him ragged and raw from exhaustion as he feels the essence of his life trickling from him.
Vaguely, he thinks he’d never seen hair that kind of blue before the body suddenly convulses, coughing out water, and taking deep breaths.
Baizhu’s sigh of relief is interrupted when a hand strikes his throat in a vice grip and slams him into the ground.
“YOU-” Changsheng’s scream rings in his ears as he starts to taste blood in his mouth where he has accidentally bitten his tongue. He blinks his eyes open, straining around the strength of the arms at his neck. He looks up and he sees red. Literally.
Dottore has a feral grin painted on his mouth, sharp teeth glinting from the sun, and eyes a startling red that stares at him with excitement.
“What’s this?” his voice although rasping, drops like venom and delight, “A pretty nymph come to save me?”
Baizhu is quick to act but Changsheng is faster, she slithers around his body, lightning-fast, bites the hand holding him, and immediately after Dottore lets him go with a hiss of pain Baizhu knocks him out with his dendro vision, concentrating for weak points even when he’s gasping for air at the same time.
The fatui drops to the ground with a resounding thud as they both stare at him, breathing heavily.
“Well…”Changsheng climbs on his stomach to his shoulders as he slowly stands up, “If you’re still set on ignoring my advice, at least chain him to the bed when you treat him.”
-
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The body starts dying as he carries it to an inn they’ve been staying on their long journey to obtain a rare herb on the outskirts of Liyue.
Qiqi greets them with a tilted head but helps him with a shrug as she lays the man down on the bed. Her voice is low and soft as she says, “Smells of rot….close to death.”
Baizhu only sighs in reply, patting her hair gently, and hums absentmindedly.
But she was right, even when he sees no injuries on the body, he could sense the life force he’d just given draining away like a leaked faucet. A conundrum, in itself. A body that has reached its expiry date as if it was designed to die in a set time not known to him.
He is pressing a balm on the bruise blooming on his neck when he sends Changsheng and Qiqi away for an errand.
And it's ten minutes later as the moonlight starts to pool on the bed that he speaks, rasping and deep, and introduces himself as Dottore, a Harbinger. His eyes shine blood red and remind Baizhu of looking at a mirror, years ago.
Baizhu had foregone his braid, lets his long hair fall to the side as he stares at Dottore, eyes glowing yellow in the dark.
“You are going to die.” He says. He tilts his head, blinking at the way Dottore doesn’t mind it at all that his hands are tied to the headboards. “Why?”
Dottore’s grin is sharp but has lost its edge at the way Baizhu could see fatigue wearing down its tip, “Tell me what you are first.”
Baizhu laughs at that, low and quiet, “A doctor.” He smiles at Dottore’s scowl, “The boring type of course. My reputation is hardly like yours, Zandik.”
Dottore throws his head back and hacks out a laugh, but he doesn’t stop. He howls in glee, tears in his eyes as he sees the bewildered look Baizhu gives him. Perhaps this wasn’t the second harbinger after all? Baizhu really should have done a mental health test on him because he’s clearly not in his right mind-
“The healer in Chenyu Vale,
Always so kind and frail,
A spring full of flowers,
Winter of the last hour.”
Dottore’s voice is weak but it pierces through the quiet room like nails. His grin terrifying if it wasn’t accompanied by a trail of blood at the corner of his mouth. Baizhu stands up in alarm as he continues,
“This body was a test subject doctor. I won’t see the sun rise but I’m glad I could have the pleasure to be your first failure.”
Baizhu cuts the bindings off swiftly, he checks his pulse but it is too late,
“Don’t fret doctor,” and he spits the title out with venom, eyes wide with mirth,
“I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
Dottore dies with another small laugh. Eyes unmoving, breathing absent.
Baizhu sinks to the floor, staring at him.
Qiqi finds him like that and asks him if they could go back. He says yes, of course. He kisses her forehead gently, not minding how cold it is, and reminds himself that death is true and it lingers beside everyone and everything.
He opens the windows and does not remove the body until the first sunlight touches the bed.
-
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They do meet again.
He is dressed in non-descript Liyuen clothes, blue hair more faded, red eyes darker than before, and strides into the pharmacy like he hasn’t just died weeks before. Dottore purchases a series of medications Baizhu doubts he’ll ever use. In a moment of spite, he charges extra for it and the only reply he gets is a sharp grin.
Two days later he finds a dead body sprawled in front of the back door of the pharmacy. Baizhu kneels down carefully brushes away the strands of blue covering its face, and is not really surprised to see faded red eyes staring back at him. His pulse is gone, and rigor mortis had already started to set in by the stiff way its hand grasps the medications clutched in his chest.
“He is mocking us-” Changsheng hisses and Baizhu feels an incoming migraine creeping in as he thinks about contacting Hu Tao to send in the body after this.
-
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“Every night you walk in your death bed, doctor?”
Another rare disease, another chance of research, and another situation where he has to endure the pain. It is fine, he was used to this. And he goes to bed sick and barely breathing knowing this will pass, and he just needs to sleep for an hour to have more energy and continue his research.
It was raining, the kind where you’d barely notice it, sprinkles of tears on a quiet night. Changsheng sleeps through it just as two glowing red eyes appeared near his window.
“You….” He rasps weakly, head already feeling heavy as he lies down.
This Dottore wears a tightlipped smile and assessing eyes. He is different, yet the same. He is not entirely human, and yet possesses human qualities. Baizhu’s mind wanders in lost contemplation and it's not entirely there as he whispers a question, the peaceful night bringing a breeze that makes the blue hair lighter than the night sway to the side.
“Do…..you know the answer to immortality?”
His laugh gets lost in the pattering rain, his voice rings through but does not disturb the nights tranquil, “Even if I do why would I tell you? I did my research on you, as I’m sure you did with me. A man seeking immortality when he dances with death every day…..you kill your chances before you can even find more. It is ridiculous. Stupid.”
He thinks this is the first time Baizhu has ever heard him talk so much. Maybe this Dottore was slightly more lenient. Or maybe his mind and body were just scrambled from the disease he’d taken and this was all some great illusion.
“To save is to sacrifice,” he coughs, and he breathes in, “I had a problem and I intend to solve it. My way.”
“You are soft.” snarled between sharp teeth, “You waste your talents on all these worthless lives- And for what? Pure heart and a body ridden with filth-”
“For duty.” Baizhu closed his eyes, he lets out a quiet sigh, “For love.”
The silence stretches on too long. The rain begins to lessen and Baizhu hopes his visitor would have the sense to close his window before he eventually leaves him.
“You could have been more.” A whisper, and a fact.
“I had a patient,” Baizhu mumbles, giving up on sleep. Tired eyes staring at the ceiling instead. “She told me if she dies today she’ll never reach the green trees of Sumeru, but if she dies tomorrow she’ll remember the fragrance of roses all her life, however short it may be. A life….” He swallows, throat dry, and blinks above the pressure building in his eyes, “A life is above justice or evil. And I am surely selfish, to want to save it all.”
He receives no reply, and Baizhu drifts to sleep.
It was not intended but he does not wake up until the first rays of sunrise reach his still-opened window. He clicks it close with a huff, and a small smile. He saves lives and suffers for others but he lives on, Changsheng a reassuring weight around him, Qiqi and Gui a constant he holds close.
A week later, he finds a flower sitting on the same window, beautiful purple, a pleasant fragrant wafting in as he delicately takes it.
-
He starts to classify them by common behavior, if not their personality.
The Dottore that visits him after that does not speak at all and has the kind of wide smile that would have given some children nightmares. He is sweet though, leaves coconut milk for Qiqi, and was not hesitant to discuss with him about the latest modern medicine together. It's good that Baizhu had acquainted himself with sign language before this.
The Dottore that comes after is destructive, crashing into the pharmacy and attempting to attack one of his customers that had raised their voice at him when they did not agree with the treatment planned. Baizhu was just about to suggest an alternative, when the customer is slammed on his back, Dottore growling in his face. It had taken a while for Baizhu to calm him down. That one vanishes after Baizhu gives him a very disappointed look.
This one is silly.
Baizhu raised an eyebrow at him,
“Nice bowtie.”
The mask does not hide the way his mouth curls into a smile, his earring glows luminous in the dark, and he giggles, surprising Baizhu when he walks and walks to Baizhu until they were so close, he could see the way his eyes drags down and up on Baizhu. Like someone starving, a craving making his teeth shine that much sharper.
“I don’t have much time darling.”
Changsheng hisses at him when he cups Baizhu’s cheek, but Dottore continues with a rushed whisper, “This one will not last long.”
And he does not need to tell Baizhu what he was referring to, even when Baizhu loathes the way Dottore would just throw away parts of himself like this like they were expendable. Like they did not matter.
“I wanted to feel this one last time, I think. Feel you.” And for the first time Baizhu sees uncertainty tainting his face, so confident in everything but himself. Dottore shakes his head, “What have you done to me? You have made me weak.”
He can feel the way Changsheng tightens around him in warning but it isn’t like he hasn’t been thinking about Dottore too when he was gone. He wonders and wonders and thinks that what is living really, without taking any risks?
He kisses Dottore. Just a soft peck, right at the edge of his mouth.
They are both frozen when he leans back again, red eyes searching at him, darting to his mouth, his eyes, and back down.
Baizhu smiles, “You will not die, as long as you promise to bring me another flower and come back.”
He turns around and pretends not to hear the way the footsteps rushed out just as he closes his door.
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Baizhu has a series of flowers that he often uses for his medicines. The Calla Lily is one of his favorites, though the Qingxin had always had many benefits. He could never really let go of his fondness for the Sumeru Rose though.
And one of them flutters to him, one night, stained with blood.
This Dottore is masked, pointed, with a downturned mouth. It was midnight, and the city never really sleeps but there is no noise to pierce through the thickening silence that envelopes them both. He steps closer, breathing heavily.
Baizhu does not flinch when he harshly throws his mask to the ground, but he takes a sharp breath when he sees the scars covering one of his red, red, eyes. The anguish look on his face does not fade even when Baizhu carefully places a palm on his cheek, rubbing the skin under his eye, near his scar.
“Which one are you?” Baizhu whispers and relaxes when Dottore steps closer to him, closes his eyes, and breathes in. He tilts his head down, nosing Baizhu’s neck and humming when he feels Baizhu shiver.
“Just the one. Just me.” He murmurs. Then, a choked-off admission, “Just me.”
Baizhu snakes a hand around his back, making slow circles, and he does not say a thing when Dottore claws at his back, pressing on to him like he wanted them to become one entity, gripping his hair in his fists tightly, breathing turning ragged.
“There are no more left, there is just me.”
Baizhu croons at him softly and pulls them inside. He asks him, “Zandik, what do you need?”
Dottore does not answer him. Instead, his hold starts to relax, as he instead opts to run his fingers over Baizhu’s hair. “Radiant jade, just like a gem.” His earrings are cold, glowing liquid blue in the darkness. He pushes Baizhu until his back is to the wall, and presses in more just so he could bite the space above Baizhu’s collarbone.
Baizhu gasps quietly, gripping Dottore’s shoulders. He had foregone his usual attire to his more simple, soft sleep clothes, and he groans when he could feel the way Dottore’s hands starts to wander.
“I don’t need anything. I-” he snarls, eyes flashing, breath hot on his neck, “I want.”
“I want this.”
They stare at each other, nerves alight, breathing loud.
The kiss this time is hot, messy, and perfect in the way Baizhu had never felt this alive in so long. Dottore bites into his lip and the low moan Baizhu lets out makes Dottore groan, pleased as their tongues danced, making wet noises in the room.
His lips are bruised, wet, and tingling, by the time they stumble into bed but Dottore pays it no mind. He licks into Baizhu with his obscenely long tongue, leaves bites, and pinches as he unwraps Baizhu like a present. Eats him like he just couldn’t get enough.
Baizhu feels his soul leave his body as he releases again and again under Dottore, his choked-off moans climbing higher, Dottore’s pressing hand and hot body making it harder for him to keep quiet. His legs are shaking by the time morning comes, his back an aching, trembling thing.
Dottore hums at his neck, sated and satisfied. He kisses and bites down his back, and Baizhu groans when he feels the evidence of his arousal again, pressing at his back.
-
Changsheng gives him a judgmental look for the whole day after Dottore left. Baizhu avoids looking at her and definitely avoids the topic of what had happened the night before. Qiqi does ask him though, if something has bitten his neck.
“Ah, no worries dear, just a mosquito.”
“Yes,” Changsheng’s voice rings, “a very big mosquito.”
Baizhu clears his throat in embarrassment and avoids the way Gui gapes at his reddening face.
He does not meet Dottore for quite some time, after that.
He tries not to feel disappointed about it, life goes on, and people come and go.
He just needs to survive, and cradle the lives that come to him for help. (And he will cradle this feeling he has in his heart, and never let anyone know.)
-
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A sweet fragrance greets him one morning, a flower shining beautifully in purple, and beside it, a letter addressed to him from ‘The Doctor’.
He opens it with a smile.